Lavinia gave it a little shake. “Her backpack. She forgot it on the sidewalk over there. Claude picked it up when he went out to chase off the mockingbird.”
“When did she forget it, Lavinia? This morning?”
“Now he thinks that crazy mockingbird is building a nest in the mulberry tree. Can you believe it? Those birds, they’ve given him nothing but trouble.”
“When did she leave her backpack, Lavinia? This morning?”
“Just a few minutes ago, I think. You know how kids can be. I’m sure she just laid it down, got distracted by something while she was walking home.”
A mourning dove hooted in the distance. Then, with no warning, the weekly garbage truck came lurching around the corner, ready to grab trash with its gigantic green claw. Nora took the pack from Lavinia as she watched the approaching truck. “Walking home? Isn’t the school bus late?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Tansy is not home yet.”
“Well, I could be wrong about the bus. I didn’t see it. Claude found her backpack and I just assumed.”
“She’ll be in trouble with Ben again if she’s gone off to play with Erin. We’ve told her she has to check in with us before she does that.” Nora took her cell phone out of her jacket and called the Hamm house. Her voice tinged with disapproval, she asked: “May I speak with Tansy? . . . Well, is Erin there?” Then, as worry began to seep in, “How long ago did you say? . . . You haven’t seen Tansy at all?” The sanitation truck roared forward, its airbrakes bringing the vehicle to a huge, squealing halt at the curb next door.
How stupid to be anxious like this.
Nora punched in the number to Stitch ’N Time, the fabric shop where she worked. “Babs? Did Tansy call over there after I left? Or did her teacher call?”
“I don’t think so. But let me check around.”
Nora could hear Babs Stanton’s voice asking, “Anybody call for Nora?” A long, lingering silence, then muffled noises as she came back.
“Nope.”
This feeling, on the edge of concern. Nora kept reminding herself of the times she hadn’t needed to worry. She kept reminding herself of times when Tansy had just stopped to play in someone’s yard.
With a hurried good-bye to Lavinia, she began to walk the neighborhood, checking yards, swing sets, fences. Any minute now and she’d hear shrieking children playing, dogs barking, birds rustling up out of the hedges.
How odd, the silence. How odd that the wind didn’t blow. Nothing moved. She stopped, listening, wondering if this neighborhood had ever seemed so deserted before.
Across the way she could see Cubbyhole Creek doing what Texas creeks did in October, sitting orange-stagnant, floating leaves as still as moored boats on Caddo Lake. Even the mallards had gone. Nora stopped on the sidewalk corner and with small, wise eyes peered in both directions. She waited with her hand on top of her head, as if she needed to hold her thoughts in.
There can be no accounting for the passing of time. How it rushes when a person wishes it would stand still. How it stops when someone wishes it would move along.
“When did you come and tell me? How long has it been?” Nora asked Lavinia when she passed her in her own yard.
Lavinia checked her watch. “Only about ten minutes or so.”
It seemed like hours.
“Nora? You want us to help you look for her? Are you that worried about this whole thing?”
“Tansy?” Nora began to walk faster. “Tansy?” In another place besides Texas, Nora might have gotten an echo, some sound bouncing back to prove that it had gone out at all. But in this flat grassland place where a person could see the freight trains curve off toward Oklahoma in the distance, her calls filtered to nothingness, in the same direction as the tracks. That was all the answer Lavinia needed; she ran to find Claude and call other neighbors.
Nora began to think about taking the car, lecturing herself. Oh, I’ve just missed her. That’s all. She’s waiting at the house, wondering where I am. And with one last false start of confidence, Nora backtracked to 125 Virginia Street, traipsed through the rooms, found them empty. Her heart began to pound when somebody banged on the front door. “Tansy Aster?” But it was only another neighbor asking, “Have you found her?”
Nora shook her head, ignoring the feeling, the adrenaline tingle in her limbs, the distant uncertainty. She’s okay. She wouldn’t be missing. Of course, I ought to pray
But that wouldn’t come, either. No words. Only pounding numbness. Only the rush of impossibility through her ears.
She wasn’t sure whether minutes or hours had gone by before Ben drove up in his truck. “Ben,” she called, running out into the street and stopping him, grabbing hold of the open window. “We can’t find Tansy.” Then the rain began, a breeze came up, wind chimes clanged from porches, and the edge of a storm moved in.
PART ONE
Tess
Eight years earlier
CHAPTER ONE
If Nora Crabtree had expected her life to change, it wouldn’t have been because she sent her husband to Bargain Food Basket for the groceries. That’s exactly where it all began, though. On Aisle 8 beneath the sign marked Condiments, Salad Dressings, and Sandwich Spreads, Ben told her later, right there beside the ranks of ketchup bottles, Spanish olives, and pickle jars.
Nora heard Ben call her name, “Nora? No-o-ora?”as he jostled in through the front door with arms full of grocery sacks. She turned off the faucet, lifted her chin, and called, “In the kitchen, honey!” She propped a pan in the dish drainer and reached for a flowered dish towel to dry her hands. “Did you remember the orange juice?”
“No.”
“Oh, Ben. Juice is what we needed from the store in the first place.”
“I know that.”
“Then, wh—”
She turned and saw his expression, and decided that something must have happened. She saw it in the sharp motions of his hands, his face gone as colorless as the limestone road-dust that coated everything in Gilford County. The towel stopped moving in her palms. “What is it?”
He dropped the grocery bags on the counter beside her. A cluster of carrots, lacy tops still intact, tumbled out. Two grapefruits thumped into each other and rolled in opposite directions like billiard balls. “You have to come outside.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Have to come outside . . .”
“But . . . Ben . . . what is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
Ben had left the front door open and, without another word, he propelled Nora toward it. He pulled her through the living room, past the aging lamp that cast its low, comforting light into the shadowy corner, past the cheap chest of drawers where Nora stored magazines. And, for one insane moment, as he hurried further ahead of her, she wondered with some odd, futile hope, if this was going to be like one of those absurd television commercials where the husband leads the wife to the driveway to show her some expensive sports car with a red bow.
Ivy lined the brick wall beside the door and the pyracantha obstructed the view from the porch, but she could see the entire expanse of lawn; there wasn’t anything parked in the yard except for their twelve-year-old Chevrolet Lumina. Nora gripped Ben’s elbow and glanced a question at him.
He only narrowed his brows in the direction of the Lumina. “She doesn’t have a car anymore. She was hitchhiking. She ended up . . .” That’s when Nora noticed the girl climbing out of their car. Even though she gasped, no air went into her lungs.
Nora gripped Ben with her other fist as the ground began to buck and pitch beneath her. Everything around her, everything that she had thought was steady and solid and fixed, began to spin out of control. Her mouth went dry.
Ben coughed into a curled fist, as if he were trying to steady his voice. But he couldn’t do it. “It’s Tess,” he said, his voice catching over her name.
Tess.
“I was just shopping,” he said. “Looking for those pickles you like on yo
ur hamburgers, Nora. I looked up from the basket and there she was, standing in front of me, waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“Waiting for me to recognize her, I guess.”
Nora stared. True, she was barely recognizable. This wasn’t her daughter. Not this girl, who looked older than her young years, already beaten and worn down by life. Not this girl, who did not resemble in the least the little child who had once watched Ben assemble her first bicycle, who had asked with innocent blue eyes and her hands outspread as if she had just finished a magic trick, “Why didn’t you read the destructions?”
They jumped at her voice now, both of them, when she spoke. “Well, don’t get all freaked out or anything.”
So, that was it? After two years of not knowing whether she was alive or dead, or whether she was still hooked on cocaine after they had forced her into rehab up in Dallas. After the day she’d tried to run away from them, and the Oklahoma Highway Patrol had picked her up near Tecumseh. And the day she’d made it as far as Bartlesville, only to spend the night in the Washington County Jail because it took hours for Ben to drive that far north to pick her up. After the six thousand dollars she’d spent, using a credit card she’d stolen from her father’s top bureau drawer.
Just, Don’t get all freaked out or anything.
Nora had always imagined what this moment would be like, with her little girl finally come home, running into her arms, holding on. Mama, Tess would whisper in a tone reminiscent of when she’d been three and had needed Nora to save the world. Mama, I’m home.
This was far different. They did not embrace, nor did they come close to each other. Nora couldn’t welcome her daughter with open arms. She and Tess had been estranged too long. It hurt far too much. This strange girl yanked off a filthy bandana and shook free all that white-blonde hair that everybody from fifteen miles around would recognize.
The dirty bandana twisting, untwisting between Tess’s fingers, and already it seemed that she was trying to get away from them.
“I’m not staying.”
Three people moving around each other as if they were locked in a cage together. Three people, each afraid of what might be lost if they made a wrong move or said the wrong thing. The father stood tallest, closer to fifty than forty, his shoulders and jaw square, his hair going to grey, his skin ruddy from days supervising his highway crew. Beside him, his daughter’s frame seemed slight and fragile, her skin as pale as candle wax, her violet-blue eyes desperate. The mother was barely the shortest of the three, with lines around her mouth and eyes, a sharp chin; her hair could be seen as blonde even though it had faded.
I should welcome her, Lord, Nora thought. I ought to be able to forget all the times she’s left us and all the times she’s pushed us away and all the times she made choices that broke my heart.
In mute disapproval, mother and daughter stared at each other. Nora finally said, her voice as dry as dust, “It’s a surprise, seeing you.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Honey,” Ben said again, his voice firmer now, and Nora knew that he was trying to step in and save them. “Tess, why don’t you come on in the house? All those groceries I just bought at the store. There’s Chips Ahoy.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t come in. Mom doesn’t look very glad to see me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” And, as he said it, Nora felt Ben’s hand tighten over her shoulder. As Tess walked toward them, everything around Nora became indistinct; the lawn blurred into dabs of color. She stood, watching, ready to follow her daughter into the house, her heart as empty and impassive as sand. All the years of bleakness had left her bereft of feeling, too frightened even to hope.
“Sit down on the sofa,” Ben said when they got inside. Tess turned away from them and began stalking around the family room as if she were looking to buy the place. “I’ll get the cookies.” And he dug out the blue Chips Ahoy bag from the other packages, tore it open so fast that the seal broke and crumbs flew everywhere.
Tess said, “I don’t want anything to eat.”
“Nothing to eat?” Ben stood holding the bag as if he’d been destroyed, his wide shoulders slumped. “But you were just at the grocery store.” Cookies had been the only thing he had known to offer.
“I’m not hungry. That’s just where I got dropped off. I was buying—” A pause. “—something else.”
They stood staring at each other beside the broad couch in the family room, with the thick Texas sun seeping in through the open blinds and casting perforated shadows on the polished wood floor. “You want me to bring your duffel bag inside?” Ben asked. “It’s still out in the car.”
For a moment, Tess shot a glance at her father that reminded them both of the way she’d looked at him when she’d been eight, when he had been able and willing to do anything for her. But her expression hardened then, and she said, “Yeah, it’s out there. But no big deal, okay? I can carry it in myself, if I decide I want to.”
You wanted to get away from us, Nora ached to say. Why have you come back now?
“Don’t you want to stay awhile, honey?” Ben asked in a pleading voice that showed he was just as doubtful of where he stood with her as Nora. “Were you here because you had other plans? Did you come to see friends instead of us?”
Tess gave them both a narrow-eyed look that was a touch uncertain. “Okay, so I came back for a day or two. It isn’t such a shocking thing. Kids come home all the time.”
“But you weren’t even at the house. You were at the grocery store.”
Nora thought, I can’t help it, Lord; I don’t trust her. I don’t want to be suspicious. I don’t want to expect the worst, but I do. She felt ashamed, above all. No matter how badly a mother’s been hurt, she ought never to feel such horrible dislike for her own daughter. She couldn’t help herself; the words just erupted out of her. “Why would you just show up like this?”
“What is it, Mom? You think I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t need something from you?”
Ben tried to divert them. “Nora—”
“You’ve spent your life trying to get away from us, Tess. I don’t know why anything would be any different now.”
“You think, to be here, that I have to have a reason?”
“God help me,” Nora said. “But I do.”
That’s all she needed to say to make Ben stand up and march away. Nora stared after him, debating whether or not she ought to feel guilty for being honest. She knew he was going to bring in Tess’s duffel, even though the girl had said not to bother.
Nora’s heart ached for her husband. After all this time, he was still trying. She knew he was thinking, Give her another chance. Bring her belongings inside. Anything that might make it harder for our daughter to leave us again.
“Tess,” she asked. “Are you stoned?”
A beat. “No.”
Nora made a circle around Tess and headed for the groceries that needed unloading. She rifled through the bags, shoved aside bacon, and picked up the butter, already forming sweat on the carton because it was warm. The cold things would be ruined if they sat out any longer. Nora pushed the half gallon of Rocky Road into the freezer and closed the door with a pop. She placed the bottle of Tabasco in the pantry with a hard little thump. She skated the milk across a wire refrigerator shelf, taking pleasure in the hard thrum it made, like a pianist rolling a fist over the keys.
“Daddy,” Tess said. “I think I’d like to stay someplace else. I know when I’m not welcome.” And the minute she called him Daddy in that wounded tone, Nora felt coerced. Tess was trying to turn them against each other again, the way she’d done so many times before. It was a miracle their marriage had been able to survive their daughter.
With her bedraggled green overnight case dangling at his side, Ben accused Nora with his eyes. He grabbed the screen and held it shut. “No, Tess. Please.”
“You can’t keep me here,” she said with a slight, hard smile. “Not if I don’t want to stay.”
>
“But I think you do. I’ll put this in the—”
He stopped. Nora knew what he’d almost said. The guest room. Tess didn’t have a room here anymore. Nora had cleaned everything out. She had bought white lamps from Pottery Barn and had painted the walls a sterile yellow. The bed-in-a-bag linens were new and crisp.
Ben didn’t finish his sentence. He followed his daughter, who knew where she was going. As Ben carried the bag, Nora saw something drop from one of the pockets. Because the wadded sack said Bargain Food Basket, Nora snatched it up, assuming it must be something else he’d brought home from the store. She unwrinkled it and peered inside.
“Hey, this is—”
Tess turned and saw her.
“What are you doing?” She grabbed it away. “That’s mine.”
Nora had seen enough to make her curious. The narrow pink box had lain sideways and Nora hadn’t seen the label. She’d glimpsed Can be used as early as— And This kit contains everyth—
Just as Tess had grabbed it out of her hand, she was able to read these baffling words:
THE MOST CERTAINTY IN A TIME OF UNCERTAINTY.
Nora pressed her bottom lip with her teeth. “It fell on the floor. I was just picking it up. Why did you rip it out of my hand?”
“Because it’s none of your business.”
Goodness, Nora thought. When had it gotten so hot in this house? She fanned her T-shirt at her neck. Out the window in the side yard she could see the sun bearing down through the gaps in the high wooden fence.
What could that little box mean?
The answer to her unspoken question came suddenly, grave and warm. She’s pregnant. It had to be; why else would Tess grab the bag that way? Well, of course that’s why she’s come home. Of course, that’s why. She wouldn’t have come if she didn’t need something from us. She needs us to help her because she’s pregnant.
They reached the guest bedroom and Tess stared. Over the months of no visitors, Nora had used the room for sewing. Yards of gingham and polyester were draped over the dresser. Both chair arms were swathed in challis, one arm green, the other one blue.
If I Had You Page 2
