The Avalon Ladies Scrapbooking Society

by Darien Gee

  To learn about Ava had been a shock, but it had been a double whammy because Ava was pregnant, too. There had been disbelief, then anger. As the days became weeks her emotions hit highs and lows but eventually settled on the plateau of guilt.

  Guilt because she couldn’t give Bill a child, as if it were somehow her fault. Guilt because she’d been so difficult and closed off that past year. Guilt because she’d yelled terrible things at him when he left. And then guilt when he died, as if she had somehow been responsible for making him turn down the wrong way on that one way street. Guilt because she forbade Ava from coming to the funeral. He may have been living with Ava at the time, but the divorce wasn’t final and Bill was still her husband. It was always possible that he might have come back to Isabel, too. Always possible.

  But not likely.

  Isabel knew miracles happened in other marriages, that somehow couples could find their ways past affairs and broken trust. For a long time she thought that there might have been hope for them, but now she’s not so sure. The truth is their marriage had been stuck in neutral for a long time. She never saw it as a bad thing but it wasn’t until Bill left that she realized it wasn’t enough.

  The doorbell’s ringing. Isabel takes a deep breath, then goes to answer it. Ian Braemer is standing on her new porch, proud.

  “Looks great, doesn’t it?” he says, waving his hand down the length of her porch. “We’re going to start painting but I thought you might want to take a look, take a little walk on it. Nice, huh?”

  Isabel steps carefully out onto the wood. “Wow,” she says. She’s been living so long with the bare framing that she almost forgot what it was like to have it be so solid, to have a floor beneath her feet. Suddenly it looks so spacious. And, a porch swing. She can see it now. Right over there, to the left of the window so it doesn’t block the view from inside the house.

  “A porch swing would be nice,” Ian says, his hands on his hips. “You could put it right here.” He opens his hands and points to the exact same spot Isabel was looking at.

  Isabel walks the length of her porch, leans against the railing, takes in the view of her front yard from the comfortable shade of the patio. It’s nice. She turns and can picture herself leisurely stretched out on a whitewashed swing, reading a book, a glass of lemonade nearby.

  And then she remembers that her house is for sale, maybe even sold.

  “The new owners can put it in,” she says to Ian. Next door she sees a movement in one of Bettie’s windows, a flicker of the curtain, then nothing.

  “Okay, then,” he says. He motions to Jeremy, who’s sitting in the car with headphones on, his head bobbing to the beat. “Hey, son, break’s over!”

  There’s something about the way Ian calls to Jeremy that makes Isabel want to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head. Son, she thinks as she goes back into the house. Such a simple word. Words she’ll never speak, nor will Bill.

  Son.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You seem qualified,” Dr. Creighton Marks is saying. He’s flipping through Ava’s job application, nodding as he goes. “But you haven’t been working as a dental assistant for the past few years. Why is that?”

  “I wanted to stay home with my son,” Ava says, giving him what she hopes is a confident smile. “He’s in preschool now, so I’m ready to get back to work.”

  “Strombauer and Kidd,” he reads. “I think they have a new name now. Strombauer Dental Associates, I believe. Shame about Dr. Kidd. He was a nice man.”

  Ava swallows, wonders how much Dr. Marks knows. His office is in Laquin, on the opposite side of Barrett and a town away from Avalon. Far enough away that she’s hoping he hasn’t heard any of the gossip, doesn’t know who she is. “Yes,” she says. “He really was.”

  “Everything looks good. My assistant is getting married and moving to St. Louis in a month, so the timing is perfect. The last step is your reference check. My wife will kill me if I don’t do my due diligence, so I’ll give Dr. Strombauer a call as soon as we’re done.” Dr. Marks smiles as his eyes flicker to the framed photo on his desk. “She’s the real boss around here—sometimes I feel like I’m the one working for her.” He chuckles.

  Ava laces her fingers together in an attempt to keep from fidgeting. “I haven’t talked with Dr. Strombauer lately. I don’t even know if he remembers me since it was over five years ago.”

  Dr. Marks nods. “Well, if you want to give him a call and let him know I’ll be getting in touch, that’d be fine. I’d like to do this sooner rather than later so I can tell my assistant we’ve found her replacement.”

  Ava swallows. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll let him know to expect your call.”

  They shake hands and she leaves, holding it together until she’s safely tucked into her car. The minute she closes the door, she starts to tremble.

  She thought she was up for it, thought she’d be able to ask Randall Strombauer for a reference if it came to that, which it has. But now she doesn’t know if she can do it. She’d easily take a million stare-downs from Isabel instead. One minute on the phone with Dr. Strombauer is filling her with fear.

  It’s not that he knows the truth, that he knows enough details to humiliate and intimidate her. It’s because she’s never felt safe around him, even though he never crossed the line until that last day. Innuendos, yes, and suggestive, obnoxious flirtation, but he always seemed to keep his distance, seemed to like watching her from afar, liked to see her squirm under his scrutiny. It was always uncomfortable and a bit creepy, but Ava always felt safe because Bill was there.

  Ava needs this job with Dr. Marks. He’s a nice man, and she can tell he’d be pleasant to work for. It doesn’t hurt that the pay is much higher than she’d expected and there’s a nice benefit package to boot. In short, she can’t afford to pass this up. She’s going to have to call Randall Strombauer.

  In her apartment, she sits at the kitchen table, her eyes resting on the telephone. She still knows the number by heart. It takes her five tries before she’s able to dial the number without hanging up.

  “May I ask who’s calling?” The receptionist doesn’t sound familiar. Mrs. Clarkson had worked for them for years, had been hired on the day Bill and Randall opened the practice. Now the voice is younger and less friendly, clipped.

  “Ava Catalina.”

  She’s put on hold, Muzak playing in the background. Ava takes small breaths, wills her heart to stop racing. Enough time has passed that maybe she’s making this into something bigger than it is. Asking for a job reference, that’s all this is.

  “Dr. Strombauer here.”

  At the sound of his voice, Ava feels herself shrinking back. He sounds exactly the same, more gruff, more impatient.

  “Dr. Strombauer, it’s Ava Catalina.” When there’s no response, Ava clears her throat and tries again. “I used to be a dental assistant in your office a few years ago?”

  “Ava!” His voice is suddenly friendly, as if he’s just placed her. “Now this is a surprise. How are you? Doing well?”

  His exuberant greeting catches her by surprise. “Yes,” she says. “I know you’re busy, but I’m looking to start work again as a dental assistant and I’d appreciate it if I could count on you for a job reference.”

  “I see. Where are you living now, still in Avalon?”

  The question is innocent enough, but Ava suddenly shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Um, no,” she says.

  “Barrett, then? Got some nice dental practices over there, I think.”

  She decides to avoid the question altogether. “So, um, would it be all right if I give them your name and number so someone can call you?”

  “Sure,” he says, and it seems like he’s dropped it. His voice is friendly again, no longer prying. “No problem. Who might be calling, so I can tell Tina to put them through when they call?”

  “Dr. Creighton Marks,” she says without thinking, then realizes her mistake.

  “Creighton!”
comes the delighted crow. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Still living in Laquin, is he?”

  There’s no way around it, she realizes. He’ll be able to figure it out, no matter who calls. At least he doesn’t know where she lives, doesn’t know about Max. She looks anxiously at the picture on the table. “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ll take care of it. I’m sure Dr. Marks will love you.”

  There is no mistaking the scorn in his voice. Ava doesn’t know what this means, but she manages a quick thank you and hangs up.

  She knows that employers have a legal obligation to only offer the facts of previous employees—if they were on time, their job title, things like that. But Ava also knows that in a small town these rules don’t apply. She knows that Dr. Strombauer is smarter than that, knows that he has a sharp lawyer in Chicago who is just as aggressive as Dr. Strombauer and who gives him advice that lets him dance as close to the edge as he can without falling over. That was always Bill’s complaint, that his partner could talk his way out of anything, that he always seemed one step ahead of Bill whenever they sat down to talk about the business or review the financials. Bill was smart, but Dr. Strombauer was savvy, even crafty, and had encouraged Bill to agree to several shortcuts in the dental practice that soon became problematic for Bill. When Ava had first started working there, the strained relationship between the two dentists was evident, but Bill wasn’t ready to change anything.

  Until Max. When Ava told him about the pregnancy, fearful that he’d be upset, fearful that she’d be alone, his response had surprised her. She hadn’t asked him for anything, hadn’t expected anything. She treated their time together as a gift, and she treasured it. She saw his kindness right away, his heart, but it wasn’t until the last year that anything had happened. It had been unexpected and quiet, not at all like how the beginning of an affair would seem. There was no moment of weakness, no alcohol, no sob stories being passed between the two of them. Instead it was a flash of kinship, an instant recognition of someone understanding—and appreciating—who you are. There was chemistry, too—there had been since the first day she started working there—but it wasn’t until that day in the break room, when he handed her a cup of coffee before she had the chance to ask. Their eyes met and they both saw it.

  They fit. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, two seemingly disparate people who didn’t look like they’d be a couple yet complemented each other nonetheless. Bill with his easygoing attitude and unassuming demeanor that hid an undertone of frustration about the tedium of his life, about his desire for more. Ava with her optimism and unwavering belief that life was meant to be happy. Joyful. That anything was possible.

  They wanted the same thing—to be happy. Never did she expect they would grow so close that she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Not once did she expect that he would leave Isabel. Ava was hopeful but she also knew the realities of life. She thought that this stolen moment was just that—a moment that would come and eventually go.

  When she discovered she was pregnant, it all fell apart. She was emotional, scared, suddenly filled with fear for her future. Maybe it had always been there, dormant and lurking behind her supposed happiness, but now it was out in the open, looming like a storm cloud, gray and threatening.

  When he said he wanted to be with her, with the baby, that he wanted a new life where things could be fresh and new and alive, the truth was she had her doubts. She loved Bill unequivocally, but she couldn’t help wondering if this was all just a phase for him, a midlife dissatisfaction with where he was and where he was going. She wondered if it would pass. Bill had a long history with Isabel, a marriage that seemed borne more of friendship than romantic love, but still there was that mutual respect, the years of shared memories and experiences. Ava knew how this would look to anyone on the outside—an older man, a younger woman, a baby on the way. Too cliché for words. She actually tried to talk him out of it.

  But Bill was resolute, determined to finally “do right” by everyone. Telling the truth to Isabel, staying with Ava, ending the partnership with Randall. The day he told her it was done, that he’d told Isabel and Randall, that he and Ava could finally and openly create a life together, she’d felt disbelief and then unbridled joy. They started planning for the future, full of hope and excitement for what was to come.

  And then, the accident.

  Ava was at the apartment. Bill had been running errands, had called to say he was on his way home. Home to her, to their small nest.

  When the phone rang hours later, she picked it up, worried but also ready to tease him for being late. But it wasn’t Bill. It was Isabel, calling from the hospital, her voice flat and void of emotion. She delivered the news fast and without preamble. Ava had slid onto the floor in shock.

  At the hospital, everything happened so fast. Ava had no role, no paperwork to fill out, no doctors to talk to. Isabel was still the wife, the person whom the police had called even though the divorce was days away from being filed. They had no idea who Ava was. Ava had no legal rights, no voice in the decision making. Her relationship with Bill was not acknowledged.

  And his mother. Ava remembers how Lillian Kidd had collapsed in the waiting room shortly after seeing her son in the morgue. Ava hadn’t meant to stay, aware of Isabel ignoring her, but she couldn’t leave Bill until she knew what was going to happen. When Bill’s mother realized who she was, she started screaming at Ava. It took two orderlies and a nurse to calm her down, and it was then that Isabel said that Ava should go.

  Ava winces at the memory, at the reminder of how her life has been stripped away, bit by bit, since that day. For Max, it’s the only life he knows, but for Ava, she knows what could have been.

  “Stop it,” she tells herself, because she isn’t going to do this. She isn’t going to slip into a well of self-pity, she is going to get them out of this. She is going to turn things around, she is going to get them on solid ground.

  She picks up the phone again and dials the number for Dr. Marks’s office. When the receptionist puts her through, Ava smiles even though she knows he can’t see her, forces her voice to sound upbeat and positive, exactly like the kind of person you’d want working for you.

  “Hello, Dr. Marks? It’s Ava Catalina. I wanted to let you know that I spoke with Dr. Strombauer and he’s expecting your call whenever you—”

  “Hi, Ava. I just spoke with him, actually.” The warmth from Dr. Marks’s voice is gone and he sounds wary. Or is it her imagination?

  She clears her throat. “Oh, okay. Well, if you have any other—”

  “Unfortunately I had another applicant come in with more recent job skills, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to offer you a position at this time. We’ll keep your résumé on file, however, and let you know if we have any future openings. Thank you for calling, Ava.”

  And he hangs up.

  Ava stares at the dead phone, hears the drone of the dial tone. She knows as well as Dr. Marks that he won’t be calling her. She doesn’t know what Dr. Strombauer said, but she knows he is the reason she didn’t get this job.

  Ava slams the phone into the cradle. She stares at it, her chest heaving, her eyes stinging with tears.

  Then she shoves the whole thing onto the floor.

  She jerks the cord out of the wall, hears the plastic crack from the outlet. Ava is not an angry person, she has never had a temper tantrum about anything, but now she feels wave after wave of despair and frustration, each one bigger than the last, overtaking her. She will never get another job as a dental assistant. She sees that now, sees how Randall Strombauer will ruin her chances any time she needs a referral. She hasn’t worked anywhere else. Which means the one chance she had of actually supporting them has just evaporated.

  Her small kitchen suddenly feels confining, limiting, insufficient, infuriating. Ava spins around, seeing all the flaws, the peeling paint, the chipped linoleum, the cabinets that don’t hang right. The mismatched dishes, the mismatched gla
sses, the random forks and spoons and knives that don’t go together. At first Ava had seen it as eclectic and fun, each different and unique, but now she sees it as a collection of junky stainless steel and cheap china, a poor attempt at hiding the truth.

  Ava doesn’t think, just grabs a trash bag and starts to shovel everything inside—the hopeful secondhand bakeware, the slow cooker, the pots and pans. For what? They will never need more than two plates and two sets of utensils, because they never have anybody over. Bill will never walk through that door and the other mothers shy away from her at preschool, suspicious of the young single mom. She has no friends. Her family hasn’t spoken to her since they found out she was pregnant by a married man. She had moved to Avalon for the job, then moved to Barrett after Bill died. She is alone. Alone, that is, except for Max.

  At the thought of her son, Ava feels the anger drain from her body, leaving her weary and sad, a heavy trash bag in her hands. She could put everything back, but what would be the point? It’s not going to change anything. She wishes, for once, that she could let it all go and let her life officially fall apart, but she can’t. She has to think of Max, because she is all he has.

  She is sobbing now. Max will grow up with no one other than Ava to teach him what he needs to know, and she knows that is not enough. She is not enough. Max deserves more—he deserves to have a father, grandparents, aunties, uncles, playmates, and friends. People to advise him and counsel him and love him. People he can turn to and count on. Ava needs those people, too. People who will help her make good choices and not try to sabotage her efforts to make a better life for her and her son.

  Like Randall Strombauer. Ava sniffs and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Her life is where it is because Ava was slow to adapt to their circumstances, waiting for a solution to present itself. She’d been tentative, hoping that people would meet her halfway but now she knows that if she wants anything, she’ll have to go out and get it herself. And right now she wants to know what Randall Strombauer said to Dr. Marks, which she is certain was either inappropriate or a lie. A phone call demanding the truth won’t yield anything.