Goldenrod

by Ann McMan

  “Okay, Doc.”

  Maddie was just beginning to wonder if maybe she’d been wrong about an ulterior motive behind Curtis’s visit when he shattered her hopes.

  “So, Doc? I was kinda hoping maybe we could talk for just a minute about Roma Jean?”

  Shit . . .

  “Roma Jean?” Maddie asked him. “Is she not feeling well?”

  “Oh, no. It ain’t nothin’ like that.” He took a moment to consider his statement. “Least, I don’t think it’s nothin’ like that.”

  “No?”

  “No, ma’am. I wanted to ask if you noticed anything—different—about her lately? You and Miss Murphy, that is.”

  “Different . . . how?”

  She knew she was playing dumb, but it seemed important to have Curtis actually state what was on his mind. She wanted to be careful not to blunder into something that lay beyond what he was prepared to discuss.

  “Well,” he looked down at his hand, soaking in the antiseptic rinse. Tiny bubbles covered the surface of the cut. “Folks have been talking about how much time she’s spending with that Charlie Davis. At first, me and Edna didn’t think nothin’ about it, but now we wonder if maybe she’s . . .” He shrugged, and didn’t finish his sentence.

  “Curtis?”

  Curtis looked up at her. He had bright, hazel-colored eyes. Maddie had never really noticed them before. They were clear and very pretty. And right now, they looked scared to death.

  “What is it you want to ask me?”

  “I don’t wanna give any offense.”

  “I don’t think you will.”

  “Well. Edna and me was wondering if maybe you thought Roma Jean was . . . was maybe like you and Miss Murphy?”

  Oh, man . . .

  “Are you asking me for a medical opinion, Curtis?”

  “No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “I’m just asking you as a friend—and as somebody who cares about Roma Jean like we do.”

  Maddie relaxed a little bit.

  “Curtis, you do know it wouldn’t be right or fair for me to express any kind of opinion about Roma Jean—especially about something in her life that’s so personal?”

  “So, she hadn’t said anything to you about it?”

  Great. There was no way to answer this question without confirming his suspicions—or violating a previous confidence of Roma Jean’s.

  She decided to take a different approach.

  “Curtis? Is there a reason why you and Edna don’t feel comfortable just talking with Roma Jean about your concerns?”

  “Oh, no.” He seemed alarmed at the idea. “We couldn’t do that. What if we’re wrong?”

  “What if you are? Roma Jean is an adult, and she has a good head on her shoulders. She’ll know if you’re asking from a place of concern versus one of judgment.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Or is that the problem? You’re afraid to ask because of how she might answer?”

  He nodded. “It ain’t that we have any real problem with it, Doc. We know that people these days can love whoever they want to love. Nobody much cares about that anymore. It’s just that . . .” He waved his free hand in frustration. “Me and Edna just wanted Roma Jean to find some nice fella and settle down. Maybe have a bunch of grandbabies? It don’t look like that’s gonna happen now. And that makes it hard for us to ask her about it. We don’t want her to think she let us down if it ends up being true. And right now, I don’t think neither of us could hide how sad we’d be—and that ain’t fair to her.”

  “Curtis? There’s not a thing in the world I can say that could help you be a better parent to Roma Jean. You just proved that you’re an expert on all the parts that matter.”

  He looked unconvinced.

  Maddie patted him on the arm. “You’re a good dad. Roma Jean knows that. She’ll talk with you when or if she has something to share.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so. Now,” Maddie lifted his hand from the antibacterial bath, “let’s get you bandaged up and on your way.” She smiled at him. “I don’t want Natalie to miss out on her boiled ham.”

  “Oh, heck,” he said. “She already took it on with her—that and about six pounds of roast beef and turkey. She said they was having some big to-do at Cougar’s tonight. Something about getting a contract with Wheaton? I guess they’re getting into that moving business big time.”

  Maddie wasn’t sure that was good news—not if it meant James would be gone on more overnight hauls.

  She finished applying the bandages to Curtis’s hand.

  “You try to keep this dry for at least the next twelve hours, okay? Then dab some of this cream on the cut before you put new bandages on it. I’ll put a few extras in a bag for you.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Doc.”

  “It was my pleasure, Curtis. You be more careful with that slicer.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He got to his feet. “I want to thank you for not getting upset when I asked you about Roma Jean. I hope you know Edna and I think you and Miss Murphy have been real good role models for her.”

  “Thank you for saying that, Curtis. We’re very fond of Roma Jean.”

  Curtis nodded and turned to leave, but paused before reaching the door. He turned back around to face her.

  “That Charlie Davis?” he asked. “I heard she was good friends with the granddaughter of Nelda Ray Black, and all. But is she good people?”

  This was one question Maddie had no problem answering.

  “Yes, Curtis. She’s very good people.”

  He gave her a short nod and exited the room.

  Maddie dropped back onto her stool.

  I so should’ve listened to my mother and gone into psychiatry . . .

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Syd knew she was taking a chance by showing up uninvited. It wasn’t a type of behavior she normally indulged in, and she wasn’t sure what kind of reception to expect. To be fair, Lizzy had every right to refuse to see her at all.

  She had forgotten how desolate it was out in this part of the county. Lizzy was still living in the riverfront bungalow that had once belonged to David’s eccentric aunt, Iris. There had been a time, after Beau Pitzer’s attack, when it seemed that Lizzy might part from her pioneer spirit and look for a house closer to town. No one would’ve had trouble understanding that. The memory of what could have happened to each of them the night Beau showed up at Lizzy’s bungalow, half-crazy on meth and looking for money—and something else more sinister—was still terrifying. Syd hadn’t been back out here since that night, and she felt the unwelcome reminder of that experience wake up inside her like a restless dog.

  Which, she could see, were also plentiful out here.

  She passed yet another house ringed by a yard full of furry mastodons. The ungainly beasts wasted no time proving their fondness for snacking on wayfaring strangers. Her Volvo, which now ran on about three of its five cylinders, had a hard time outrunning the pack. One of the dogs managed to sprint alongside her car—snapping and salivating—for at least a tenth of a mile. Long enough for her to observe that it had a pronounced underbite and dark markings around its muzzle.

  She thought it looked a lot like the mayor.

  It was another unseasonably hot day, and she had all the windows down. The Volvo’s air conditioning, which had worked poorly twenty-three years ago when the car was new, was now completely useless. She worried that one of the more enterprising dogs might actually contrive to leap inside the car. It was a relief when she finally turned off the county road and made the slow descent along the lane that led to the small bungalow.

  She wondered if Lizzy now had a dog.

  If she does, I’m not getting out of the car.

  Syd was impressed by the changes Lizzy had made. For one thing, the monster-sized stacks of firewood that David’s Aunt Iris had surrounding the place like a stockade had obviously been burned or sold off. That change alone made the setting look more inviting. The house itself now sported fresh p
aint, replacement windows and a new front porch.

  Lizzy’s Subaru was in the driveway. Syd had gambled on the likelihood that she would’ve come straight there after the clinic closed at five. It was now just past five-thirty. Since Syd hadn’t said anything about her errand, she was hopeful she’d make it back to the farm before Maddie got there, which usually was about seven o’clock. Unless, of course, they had Henry. On those nights, Maddie arranged her schedule to be home in time for an early dinner.

  Syd didn’t have to worry about screwing up her courage to knock on the door. Lizzy apparently heard her car pull up and came out onto the porch to greet her. Syd thought she looked surprised but not wary. She took that as a good sign. Lizzy looked tired. Her fair complexion looked paler than normal, although her thicket of red hair seemed as wild and vibrant as ever.

  She made a determined effort not to look at Lizzy’s waistline.

  She got out of the car and walked over to the steps.

  “Hi, Lizzy. I guess my whole element of surprise just went out the window?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Lizzy leaned against the porch railing. “But it’s good to see you, regardless.”

  “Is it?” Syd was dubious.

  “Of course, it is.” Lizzy motioned for Syd to join her on the porch. “Wanna come up here and have a seat? It’s too hot inside the house.”

  “Okay.” Syd joined her and they walked over to where Lizzy had an enormous wicker settee and two matching armchairs. Overhead, a big Panama fan moved in slow circles, pushing warm air around. “Is your air conditioning on the blink?”

  “No.” Lizzy sat sideways on the settee and propped her feet up on a big striped pillow. “I just hate having to turn it on this early in the season. You know how it is—once you crank it up, it pretty much runs nonstop for six months.”

  Syd nodded. “I think this summer is going to be another one for the record books. Of course, we seem to be saying that now about every summer, don’t we?”

  “No kidding. I picked a supremely bad time of year to get knocked up.”

  Syd wasn’t sure how to reply.

  “It’s okay.” Lizzy filled the conversational vacuum. “The rabbit died and now the cat’s out of the bag.” She gave Syd a wry smile. “Are there any other animal euphemisms I missed?”

  “Um. How about bacon in the drawer?”

  “In foal?”

  “Stung by a serpent?” Syd added.

  “In pig!” Lizzy proclaimed.

  In pig? Syd was perplexed. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

  “I think it’s a precursor to getting bacon in the drawer.”

  “Oh.” Syd shook her head. “Who comes up with this stuff?”

  “Men.”

  “Of course.” Syd rolled her eyes. “Bless their hearts.”

  “Yeah,” Lizzy agreed. “They’re pretty much assholes.”

  “Especially my brother.”

  Lizzy seemed surprised. “I won’t deny that he’s missed a few opportunities to regale me with demonstrations of his caring and sensitivity. But I’m surprised to hear you share that assessment.”

  “Why? I’m horrified by his behavior.” She hesitated. “And my own.”

  Lizzy didn’t offer a response. Syd took that as implied permission to continue with her apology.

  “I had no right to interfere in your private life the way I did, Lizzy. I was wrong to share my conjecture with my brother. I was wrong to discuss anything about your relationship with him. You also need to know that Maddie never broke your confidence. I drew my own conclusions based on what she didn’t say, and guessed at what I thought might be true. For that—and for my interference—I am deeply sorry, and I apologize.”

  Lizzy listened without interruption. She took her time to respond when Syd finished.

  “I don’t blame you for wanting to help your brother, Syd. Even though he’s acting like an ass, I know this is hard for him, too. And for you. I don’t doubt that you had good intentions.”

  “I’m still mortified about what I did. Maddie was furious with me. Is furious with me,” she corrected. “Rightfully so. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope you’ll believe me when I tell you that I honestly thought he’d behave like a grown-up—finally.” She slowly shook her head. “I was wrong.”

  Lizzy sighed. “I think we’re both victims of the same malady.”

  “What’s that?” Syd asked.

  “We both love him.”

  “I guess that’s—good?”

  “Trust me. It doesn’t feel like it right now.”

  “Lizzy, I completely understand if you choose not to answer—but do you know what you’re going to do?”

  Lizzy shifted her position on the settee. “I thought I did. I was sure that this wasn’t something I was ready for—especially if I had to go it alone. It’s always been one of those hypotheticals you live with, you know? In the background. At least, women do. We all know it’s a possibility—whether it’s something we want to do or not. I mean . . . I’m sure it was something you thought about, too. Before you were married. While you were married. Hell. Maybe even now?”

  Syd smiled. “While Maddie does have unsung talents, I’m happy to share that those rumors are false.”

  “Please don’t shatter my illusions. I need my fantasies right now.”

  Syd’s surprised reaction to her comment must have shown on her face.

  “Not that kind of fantasy,” Lizzy clarified.

  “Thank god.”

  “But, doesn’t it piss you off that we live in a world where women still have to wrestle with everyone else’s moral judgments when we make what should be personal choices about our own lives?”

  “Yeah. It does.”

  “I don’t mean to completely reject Tom’s stated religious scruples about abortion. But, really? If his Catholic upbringing is so damn sacred to him, then how the hell could he be so cavalier about wagging his junk around out of wedlock? If you ask me, that whole wingnut brand of morning-after piety is nothing but a bunch of male chauvinist bullshit. How dare he suddenly get religion and insist that his faith and values need to drive any decision I choose to make about my own body?”

  “He doesn’t have that right, Lizzy. Nobody does. He should respect and understand that this is your decision to make.”

  “Wanna know something? If he hadn’t acted like such a self-righteous asshole, I would’ve gladly asked him to help me sort through this. I honestly thought that maybe—just maybe—he’d surprise me and decide that he actually was ready to make a commitment to us. Well. Here was his big chance. But all I got from him was a big ole nothin’ burger of recrimination for not telling him sooner—and a lecture about what all he was and wasn’t ‘comfortable’ with.”

  Syd was very glad her mother wasn’t hearing this.

  Tom wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a year . . .

  “Lizzy, I don’t have words to tell you how much I regret my brother’s behavior. I wish I could change this outcome. You cannot imagine how much I wish I could change it—change him.”

  “Yeah.” Lizzy gave a bitter-sounding laugh. “I wish you could change him, too. As it is?” She laid a hand over her abdomen. “I just need to make my peace with going it alone.”

  “For what it’s worth, you’re not alone. You know that Maddie and I are here, and we’ll help and support you in any way we can.”

  Lizzy met her eyes. “You say that now—but how will you react when I call you at three in the morning with a squalling infant?”

  Syd knew she needed to tread carefully. She didn’t want to overreact or put too great a value on anything Lizzy hinted at.

  “Even then,” she said.

  “Oh, shit. I don’t even know what I’m saying. I change my mind about every two seconds.” Lizzy sat up. “Wanna come inside and have a glass of wine?”

  Syd demurred.

  “Don’t worry,” Lizzy added. “As tempting as it is, I haven’t succumbed yet. I
’ll just have a tonic on the rocks, with a slice of lime, and pretend it’s the world’s biggest VT.”

  Syd stood up. “Why not make it two, and we’ll pretend together?”

  “Works for me.”

  Lizzy got up and led the way inside. She stopped halfway across the living room.

  “Uh, oh. Do you mind making them?” She gestured toward her kitchen. “I feel a sudden need to hit the bathroom. I think that hot dog I had for lunch is about to make another appearance.”

  “Oh. Sure. No problem. Take your time.”

  Lizzy hurried off toward the back of the house.

  Syd found the tonic and limes in Lizzy’s ancient refrigerator and opened half a dozen cabinets before finally locating a couple of tall glasses. She was just beginning to coax the ice cubes out of a metal tray when Lizzy walked back into the room. She looked pale and distressed.

  “What’s wrong?” Syd set the ice tray in the sink.

  Lizzy sank down onto a stool. She appeared so unsteady that Syd walked over and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  She looked at Syd, but her brown eyes seemed unfocused. “I guess we don’t have to worry about late fees on that Name the Baby book I checked out last week.”

  Syd noticed she was holding a tied-off plastic bag.

  “Lizzy . . .”

  She nodded. “I’m pretty sure I just had a miscarriage.”

  “Oh, honey . . .” Syd pulled her close.

  “I called Maddie from the bathroom.” Lizzy’s voice was small. “She’s waiting for us at the clinic.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  The Bixby Bowladrome was having a “renaissance.”

  At least, that’s what the owners had decreed a year ago when they made the bold decision to rebuild after the tornado tore off the roof and demolished two of the outside walls. The way they saw it, they couldn’t shut it down.

  The place had become world-famous.

  That was because it was here, on this very spot, that Deb Carlson’s flame-red Camaro finally came to a rest after being swept up in a maelstrom that blazed a path of destruction across three counties. The epic storm hurled Deb’s beloved car around like an eight-cylinder wrecking ball. After its epic reign of terror ended, the car landed, light as a feather, across three lanes at the south end of the bowling alley. It remained there for nearly three weeks—until it was removed to a more distinguished final resting place.