by Terri Thayer
Kit laughed. “You bet.”
Tammy greeted April perfunctorily. No one noticed but April, but she felt the chill. Tammy’s hands shook slightly as she showed April the cards she was making. They were straight from the manufacturer’s suggestions; Tammy wasn’t changing them at all. She was just cutting and pasting. Rocky, sitting close to Tammy, watched April closely.
Piper looked up at Tammy’s work. “I thought the idea was to make a card that you can’t find at a Hallmark store.”
Rocky glowered, but Kit was the one who came to Tammy’s rescue. “People will love getting your cards,” she said. “Just because you made them.”
Tammy smiled wanly. “I’m not in a creative mood.”
Rocky was working on a new collage. April saw she had already stamped a three-leafed plant and a graduation cap. The Castle was in the center of her piece again. Oddly, there was a picture of a hot dog in a circle with a line through it. April didn’t presume to understand what Rocky was thinking.
Piper’s table was littered with the papers mothers collect during their kid’s school years. Report cards, perfect attendance awards, a program for “Our Town,” and even a birth certificate. April saw the birth certificate had been altered. Frankie Imperiale’s name had been handwritten in the blank for the father’s name in big block letters.
A parent no longer denied. April moved away from Piper without comment. She didn’t know what to say.
Suzi was stamping flowers on a silk scarf. She was sitting next to Piper, watching April closely.
Turning away from Suzi’s gaze, April saw Mary Lou and Kit laughing as they scrapped together. April felt a pang in her heart that made her look toward the door to the kitchen. She had one thing to do before she could get started. She pushed open the kitchen door.
Bonnie was setting small desserts on a silver three-tiered dish. She looked tired.
“Long day?” April said. It was difficult for her to see how hard her mother worked.
Bonnie looked up, surprised. She used her forearm to brush a hair from her cheek. “I thought you were crafting with your friends,” she said.
“Friends? That’s a bit of a stretch,” April said.
“They’re nice people, April.”
April heard the warning in her mother’s voice. Not to judge so quickly, not to draw conclusions about people because of their social status. But that wasn’t the source of April’s doubts tonight. Tonight she was worried one of them was a murderer.
“Okay, Mom. I don’t want to fight.”
“How’s your father holding up?” Bonnie asked.
“We don’t have to talk about him,” April said quickly. “Vince is handling him.”
Bonnie wiped down the counter, the pink tile chipped in places. The backsplash was old yellow linoleum attached to the wall with a stainless steel band that was bent and pulling off the wall in spots. The stove was old, with only four burners. Whatever money the club had spent, it hadn’t been in the kitchen. This was the last place the members saw. And yet Bonnie sent out wonderful meals each day.
“It’s really okay, April.” She sighed.
April’s scalp tightened. “That’s why I came in here, Mom. I wanted to tell you I know you’re doing the best you can. I have no idea what it must be like to live in this small town, day after day, with your ex-husband three miles away with his lover. That must be unbearably hard.”
Bonnie looked surprised, then snorted. “You should have heard the old biddies at church the first time Vince came to the Sunday social with your dad. Mrs. Gearhart nearly had a coronary.” Her face crumpled and her voice filled with tears. “I didn’t know what to do.”
April put an arm around her mother’s shoulder. “There’s not exactly a handbook on how to deal with your husband’s homosexuality.”
She leaned into her daughter, her voice whispery. “Maybe I need to write it. I’ll call it Meet, Gay, Love.”
It was a good sign that Bonnie’s sense of humor was returning.
“Mom,” April said, her laughter quickly turning to tears. She laid her head on her mother’s broad shoulder. Bonnie’s hand patted her with a familiar heaviness. Her mother’s hand fit so neatly between her shoulder blades, it felt like a part of her.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” April said.
“Hush, baby, hush,” Bonnie whispered. “It’s my fault as much as it is yours. I hardened my heart, God help me, even against my own child. Your father hurt me so much, and I took it out on you.”
April protested, “I wasn’t very lovable in those days. Before Dad left, I’d been a real creep, just trying anything to get your attention. After he left, all I wanted to do was get out of town.”
“I was the adult, April. You were just a kid. A crazy, mixed-up kid. I was supposed to protect you, to love you no matter what, but I couldn’t. I was too hurt. I’d thought your father was the love of my life.”
She pulled back and smoothed the hair from her daughter’s forehead. April could smell the sweet cream-puff dough she’d been baking.
Bonnie said, “For so long, I thought there was something wrong with me. Your father tried to be a good husband. He tried. And he was a good daddy.”
He was. That’s why April had missed him so. “You did your best, Mom.”
Bonnie shook her head. “Maybe. But I can do better now.” She brushed the hair out of April’s eyes and kissed her eyelids, gently, as if kissing a newborn.
“Go play. I’m making chocolate-covered strawberries. I’ll bring them in as soon as they set up.”
Her favorite. April kissed her mother. She started to leave but stopped at the door. Her mother had been honest with her. Now it was April’s turn to tell her the truth.
“Okay, but first, I’ve got something to tell you. About my life in San Francisco. About my marriage. About Ken.”
April and her mother talked for an hour in the quiet kitchen. She told her mother everything Ken had done to her. She cried and her mother dried her tears. Finally, when April was all talked out, her mother kissed her.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I know you loved Ken.”
Bonnie reared back, her eyes wide. “Ken? I don’t give two hoots about that little shit. He hurt my little girl, and he should rot in hell.”
April burst out laughing. This was so far away from the reaction she’d expected. “What happened to Ken, the darling son you never had?” she asked, gasping for air.
“He’s cut out of the will, starting now,” Bonnie said. “My millions will have to go all to you.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom. I’ll try to spend them wisely.”
“Let me finish up here,” Bonnie said, giving April a shove out the door. She gave April another kiss and smiled. Her face was peaceful, and she didn’t look as tired as she had an hour ago. April felt lighter, too.
Back at the stamping room the atmosphere had definitely changed. She heard Officer Yost’s name and hesitated in the doorway. Her good mood vanished as she heard angry words. Piper was talking, her hands flying about her face as she stood next to the table. She had a stamp in her hand that she was gesturing with.
She said, “He frickin’ grilled me today. It was ridiculous. Over and over again, asking me the same questions. When was the last time I saw Frankie? What did he say? Where was he going? Over and over.”
Rocky and Tammy exchanged a whispered conversation. Mary Lou and Kit were focused on their projects, although April could tell Mary Lou wasn’t missing anything.
Piper wasn’t finished. “I told Yost the last time I saw Frankie, I was telling him if he knew what was good for him, he’d leave town and never come back.”
April looked sharply at Rocky. Seemed she wasn’t the only one running Frankie out of town. But he never got the chance to go.
“I bet that shut Yost up,” Suzi said, clearly trying to get her friend to stop her diatribe.
Piper said, “My father will so have him fired. The Lewises were here long before he was.”
Deana sai
d, “I’m sure he’s just trying to establish when the man died. It was so long ago. People’s memories fade. I don’t remember where I was that night.”
April felt she had to step in. She wanted to know what people remembered of that night. “That’s because you were home in bed,” April said. “If something special had happened to you that night, you’d remember.”
“What happened to you?” Piper said snidely. “I mean, I gave birth, and then the father of my child disappeared for good. What did you do?”
April took in a breath. “I outed my father to my mother and caused them to break up.”
Silence filled the large space. Every hand hesitated over its project, every eye turned to April.
“April, honey,” Deana said. “That’s not really true.”
“You can ask my mother,” April said, pointing to the kitchen door. “I dragged my dad home from the job trailer and told her that their marriage was a sham.”
Conversation ceased, even the whispers between Rocky and Tammy. Eyes slid off April’s.
Deana grabbed April’s shoulder and pulled her aside. She had two deep frown lines between her eyes that April had never noticed before. Deana said, “I’m going out to my car. I’ve got a big shipment of stuff that Tammy ordered in my trunk. Give me a hand, will you?”
April looked around the room. No one would make eye contact with her. She’d gone too far. Now she would never get anyone to talk to her about Frankie. She felt like crawling in a hole.
“Sure,” she said.
The two friends walked outside together. It was getting close to eleven. The night air was soft. April could hear crickets and frogs croaking from the water hazards. She breathed in the summer smells and let the quiet fill her pores. Still, she felt like an idiot.
Deana opened her trunk and pulled out two large bags by their handles. She set them on the ground and faced April, taking April’s upper arms and looking at her closely.
“Listen, April, I’m sorry I cut you off, but I feel responsible for this group.”
“And my life story is too sordid for them?” April said testily. Deana’s sense of propriety was well honed.
Deana tsked. “You know how it is in a small town. We know each other’s stories. Intimately. Or at least we think we do. It’s better not to flaunt them. We can only get along by pretending not to know that Suzi’s Aunt Mary is really her mother.”
April swallowed a protest. She was on Deana’s turf. This was her scene. The Stamping Sisters was her business.
“I promise to be a good girl.”
Deana handed her one of the bags.
“Oof,” April said, as the heavy bag threatened to pull her arm out of her socket. “What’s in here?”
Deana pulled out a box. “Tammy always orders the complete line every season. All the stamps, papers, inks, matching ribbons and eyelets. It’s a huge order.”
April was amazed. “That must be expensive,” she said.
“Thousands of dollars,” Deana said.
“Can she afford that?” April had seen Lyle’s paycheck, and nursing homes weren’t known for paying their employees well.
Deana shrugged. “She’s never bounced a check to me. I know it’s excessive, but Tammy gets a little obsessive. Before stamping, she was collecting silver jewelry. It’s always something with her.”
“Stamping is a disease,” April said, hoisting the second bag, leaving Deana free to carry the large box.
“This stuff is as addicting as crack cocaine,” Deana said.
“Speaking of crack, did you hear my mom’s making chocolate-covered strawberries?”
“Let’s go,” Deana said, quickening her step.
Bonnie was in the room when they returned, setting out the platter of huge strawberries. The stampers surrounded her, drawn to the chocolate like bees to honey.
April unloaded her burden on a side table near Tammy and gave her mother a wave. “You almost done for the night?” she asked.
Bonnie said, “Nearly. I’ve just got a little more cleanup.”
Tammy jumped up to look at the items Deana and April had brought in. She exclaimed over each one, gently caressing the packages and showing off her finds. She seemed to get happier with each package she opened. Rocky sat next to her, lining up her purchases like a maid of honor at a bridal shower.
April settled in a chair and worked, feeling the stamps in her hand and smelling the inks, relaxing in spite of herself. The repetitive motion soothed her, like rocking in a boat on a gentle sea. She sank into the work, stamping images that were important to her. She’d carved a gently curving ocean wave stamp before leaving California. She combined it with seaweed and an image of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Tammy called to her from across the room. “Your phone’s over here, and it’s ringing, April.”
April looked up. She must have set her phone down near Tammy when she’d carried her purchases in. She listened for the ring. It wasn’t a call; it was a text. And only one person texted her. Ken. That was a message she didn’t need to get.
“Just leave it,” April said. “I’ll look at it later.”
The phone chirped again. April finished stamping an image of a bird and got up, sighing. She’d have to turn the damn thing off.
Her phone wasn’t there. She looked for Tammy to ask her where it was, but she was gone, too. The door to the kitchen was swinging, as though someone had just gone through it.
When April pushed open the kitchen door, she didn’t see them at first. The stainless steel prep tables were gleaming. The worn countertop was shiny, and the backsplash shone brightly. A big spaghetti mop lay next to a bucket of water that smelled like ammonia. A noise behind her made her turn.
Tammy was holding Bonnie by the hair. Bonnie looked terrified, her eyes wide. April felt sick to her stomach when she saw the heat gun in Tammy’s hands. It was too close to Bonnie’s face. April could feel the warmth coming off it.
“What are you doing, Tammy?” April cried.
Tammy shoved Bonnie into the room and dropped the heat gun on the counter. She quickly grabbed a broom that was leaning against the countertop and pushed it through the door handles, barricading them in.
April went to her mother and gathered her in her arms. She felt her mother’s heart beating wildly. “Tammy!” she shouted. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Quiet down,” Tammy hissed. “What is this?” Tammy held out April’s phone. The text-message beep sounded again, but Tammy was pointing to the picture on the phone.
The picture of Frankie’s bashed-in skull.
Tammy shoved April away from her mother. April tripped over the mop bucket and fell to the floor, scraping her arm on the way down.
Tammy dropped the phone with a clatter and snatched up the heat gun, holding it again to Bonnie’s throat, which was as white as skim milk.
April gasped as Bonnie grunted, “Tammy.” The heat gun could produce severe burns.
“Pick it up.” Tammy’s eyes were like balls of steel, tiny black rivets. “I want you to listen to me, April. I want all of your attention.”
April picked up the phone and stood. She tried to take a strong stance with Tammy. Her elbow smarted and she felt blood dripping. “I can’t concentrate with you holding a heat gun to my mother’s neck.”
Bonnie shook her head slightly. Don’t move, she mouthed. April felt her heart harden at the sight of her mother in danger.
“Whatever you want, Tammy, this is not the way to get it,” she said through clenched teeth. She opened her jaw to force herself to relax. She could barely breathe in. Her chest felt like it would not expand enough.
“Shut the phone,” Tammy said. Then she positioned Bonnie against the barricaded door. There was a small glass window alongside it through which April could see into the room where the stampers were, but none of them had noticed anything amiss.
April wondered where the knives were in this kitchen. Damn her mother’s obsession with clean counters. She ha
d to put everything away before she went home. April leaned against a drawer and pulled it open slowly behind her, trying to see what was inside without Tammy noticing.
“You could have saved me that night,” Tammy said.
“Saved you? From what?” April said.
“From Frankie. You walked right by us. He was raping me,” Tammy cried, the pain of that night so present in her voice that April felt it sting on her skin like ice pellets.
“I don’t understand,” April said. “I never saw you with him.”
“I heard you, you and your father. Lyle told me it was you.”
April tried to concentrate. She couldn’t form a picture of what Tammy was saying. “My father and I were talking inside the job trailer . . .”
Suddenly April remembered the couple she’d seen in the bushes as she biked to the trailer. “Oh my God, I thought . . .”
Tammy’s eyes were far away. Someone was pounding on the door now, but she heard nothing. “He dragged me away from the party. He took off his pants and hung them in the tree. While he was . . . on top of me, the pants slipped off the branch and landed right next to me. I grabbed the belt buckle and hit him.”
“Tammy, I didn’t know you were there, I swear.”
Tammy snapped back to the present. “Show me the pictures of Frankie,” she demanded.
April opened the phone again, held it where Tammy could see and thumbed through the pictures she’d taken. Tammy jerked with each one. Her eyes were sad. “I knew it. I killed him.” She jerked the heat gun near Bonnie’s eye.
April flinched and cried out, “Tammy, Frankie was shot. The police found a bullet.”
Tammy looked confused and tightened her grip on Bonnie. Bonnie’s face was pale, and April wondered when she had last eaten. If she knew Bonnie, it had been hours ago. Bonnie knew how to feed people, but she wasn’t good at taking care of herself. April needed her to be strong now.
April saw Rocky’s face in the round window. She tried the door, rattling the handles.
“Tammy,” Rocky yelled, her voice muffled. Tammy looked that way, then back at April.
“There was nothing on the news about a bullet,” Tammy said.
