It was true, every word her son said. Kristine started to cry. “What will I do without you?”
“What did you do before?” Cala shot back. “You were never there for us. You were always busy with dear old Dad. You were never too busy for him. Sadie was more a mother to us than you were. I’m sorry, Mom. I wish it was different. We’ll look after Tyler. We’ll call to let you know how we’re doing.”
“When ... when are you leaving?” Dear God, she’d caved in.
“Next week. We have to settle in, get jobs, get the lay of the land. Mr. Dunwoodie offered to drive us to Georgia. He’s a really nice man. I think he felt sorry for us. He went to Georgia Tech, too. He pulled as many strings as Sadie did.”
Kristine curled into the corner and stared out the window. She wished she could lie down and die. She didn’t mean to say the words aloud, but they tumbled from her lips like a runaway train. “Your father was a stern man and had definite ideas about child rearing. I don’t want you to hate him.”
Kristine was jolted from her nest in the corner of the car and flung forward when Mike slammed on the brakes on the old country road. “Our father and your husband was a sadistic son of a bitch. My back and ass are full of scars from the beatings. So are Cala’s. Tyler has psychological problems. We’re going to get him fixed up. They have counselors at school who will help him. We’re just damn lucky Dad’s mind games didn’t screw up our heads. Cala and I fought him. Sadie and Jim helped us. Sadie wanted to go to the CO, but Jim said it would be worse on us if he did. It was our decision to endure. Just so you know, we couldn’t have done it without them. That’s why Dad hated Jim so much and why he used to make fun of Sadie all the time. Tyler wouldn’t open up, though. He was afraid of Dad. That was okay; Cala and I had enough hate in us for him, too. You let it happen, Mom.”
“Every child gets a whipping once in a while,” Kristine said lamely. “My father used to spank me all the time.” Her voice was lamer still when she said, “I never hated him for the spankings.”
Mike groaned. “We aren’t talking about a spanking here. Cala, pull up your sweater. Show Mom your back. Is that what you call a spanking, Mom?”
Kristine gasped, her hand going to her mouth.
“End of discussion!” Mike roared as he slipped the car into gear and barreled down the road.
Kristine ignored her son’s words. “Your father would never ...”
“Where were you, Mom?”
“You never cried ... you never said...”
“The goddamn book, Mom. Good little soldiers didn’t cry and whine. We were good little soldiers. Where were you, Mom?”
“I was there. Your father ... didn’t like interference. He said his way was best. You should have come to me. I swear, I didn’t know. Dammit, you didn’t cry. I didn’t see ... I stopped giving you a bath when you were five. You wanted to do it yourself. What ... what did he use?”
“His army belt,” Cala said quietly. “I’m adding child abuse to the charges when we file our suit.”
“Dear God.” It was all she could think of to say. This had to be some kind of black nightmare. All she had to do was wait it out, and she would wake up. It wasn’t going to happen. Deep in her gut she knew what her children said was true. They had absolutely no reason to lie. Mike was right. Where in the name of God was she when all this was going on? Doing all the things the book said she was supposed to do so her husband could move up in rank. Luncheons, committees, driving pools, dinner parties. Call Kristine. She’ll be glad to do it. And she had. Because it pleased Logan. Everything in her life was about pleasing Logan. Merciful God, what had she done to her children and herself? How was she ever going to make this right? She gave voice to the question in her mind.
“We’re home,” Cala said tightly.
“So we are.” Kristine wondered if the deep weariness she felt showed in her voice.
“I’ll put the car in the barn. It’s supposed to snow tonight,” Mike said.
“I made dinner,” Cala said.
“That was nice of you, Cala, but I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go upstairs and ... and think about things.”
“Mom?”
“What is it, Cala?”
“I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. This way is best. Time and space between us is probably what we all need. Mom, he isn’t coming back.”
Kristine turned to face her daughter. “If you believe that, then why are you leaving?”
“Because we know you, Mom. You are going to sit here and wait for him to walk through the door. It isn’t going to happen. We don’t want to watch you destroy yourself, and that’s what you’re going to do. In your mind you’re already trying to find an excuse for what he did to us, so you can live with it. We aren’t going to be that far away. There are telephones. We all need to heal. We aren’t the brightest people in the world, but from where we stand this seems to be our only option. If it doesn’t work for us, we’d like to know we can come back to this place and, by the same token, if you need us, you only have to call.”
“This place?” Kristine said in a strangled voice.
“Yes. This place. Your home. We never had a real home. All of us wanted that. You know, a room of our own like the one upstairs that was yours when you were little. It’s still your room, with all your old things. We never had things to keep. Each move stuff got lost or thrown out. The beds were the same. The rooms were always different. We’re going to get an apartment off campus. Tyler will be able to visit and eat with us. The first year he has to stay in the dorm. He needs friends. It’s going to be good for him, and for Mike and me, too.”
Kristine felt such a sense of loss she didn’t know what to do. “You grew up right under my eyes, and I didn’t even notice. My God, what does that say for me?” she muttered to herself as she made her way to the second floor.
It was Cala’s turn to sit down on the steps and cry. Her sense of loss was so overwhelming, Mike had to put his arms around her.
“Guess she didn’t take it too well, huh?”
“About as well as we’re taking it. I hope we’re doing the right thing.”
“Sadie said it was the right thing. Jim agreed. Mom will have to snap out of it with us gone. Look, if it doesn’t work, we can come back and go to Virginia State or some other local college. This is for now. Later will take care of itself. It’s dinnertime, so I suggest we eat and talk in the kitchen. Where the hell is Tyler?” Mike demanded.
“Mashing the potatoes. Go easy on him, Mike. He’s never been away from home before. This is a big step for him.”
“All of a sudden I feel like I’m fifty years old,” Mike grumbled as he headed for the kitchen. “Phone’s ringing! ”
“I got it,” Tyler said. “It’s Sadie.”
Cala reached for the phone. “Everything is fine, Sadie. We just got back, and Mom went to bed. We told her in the car. She didn’t take it too well. Yes, she’s upset with you, but she’ll come around. She still has hope. I could see it in her eyes. I don’t think she’s ever going to give up. Thanks for everything, Sadie. Give Jim a big hug from all of us. Of course we’ll write. I have to warn you, we won’t be making any overseas phone calls. If you hear anything, will you let us know? Bye, Sadie.”
Their plates loaded, grace said, Tyler held up his hand. “I just want to know one thing. Do we love Mom or not?”
Cala and Mike looked at one another. “Of course we love Mom. Now, let’s eat and talk about something pleasant for a change,” Cala said.
Upstairs in her old childhood room, Kristine paced. How was it possible to be so stupid and blind? She’d failed her children, and Sadie and Jim had been there to pick up the pieces. Mike was right. Where in the hell was she when all this was going on? Was she deaf, dumb, blind, and stupid as well? Did cooking meals for her children, washing their clothes, and asking if their homework was done make a good mother? The answer was obvious. Somehow she’d convinced herself, or Logan had convinced her, that her family was a tight little fam
ily. Doing things together, the children home all the time. She racked her brain to think of things they had done together as a family. Where were those memories?
Damn, she needed to think, to plan. Maybe a warm bath, a nice glass of wine, maybe two, and then bed. Tomorrow would be time enough to think about the past week and today’s events. Yes, tomorrow would be soon enough.
Kristine wished the earth would open up and swallow her as she watched her children load their bags and trunks into the back of Aaron Dunwoodie’s minibus, which had the bank’s name emblazoned on the side in bright red letters.
“It’s not too late, Kristine, to change your mind. There’s plenty of room. Are you sure you don’t want to come along?”
If she had any doubts about changing her mind, they evaporated with the looks on her children’s faces. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. It’s nice of you to drive them all the way to Georgia.”
“I have business there, so it’s no problem. I guess that’s it. Now, if you youngsters will just say good-bye to your mother, we can be on our way.”
They look like they’re rooted to the ground, Kristine thought. They don’t know what to do. She solved their problem by running down the steps to gather them all close. “I know you don’t believe this, but I am going to miss you.” Tears sprang to her eyes when she felt Tyler’s trembling body. She stroked his hair, and whispered, “I love you,” in his ear. “I swear, you two are the best-looking set of twins I’ve ever seen,” she said lightly before she kissed them soundly. “Please come home soon,” she whispered.
“Bye, Mom,” they chorused before Kristine ran into the house.
In the kitchen, she broke down completely. How was she going to manage alone? How was she going to get through her days in this old barn of a house? Where would the noise come from? How did you cook for just one person? How did you walk past a child’s empty bedroom and not cry?
Kristine raced up the steps and down the long hall to enter Mike’s bedroom first. It was so tidy and clean she swallowed hard. She knew she could bounce a quarter off his bed and catch it in her hand. Where were the pictures, the trophies, the ball and glove? Mike had those things. She was sure of it. In a frenzy she opened dresser drawers, then moved on to the closet. Nothing. Everything was gone. It was as though he’d never been here. Maybe he stored his things in the storage closet downstairs. He should have left something behind, a paper clip, a pencil, a rubber band. A second search yielded nothing.
Cala’s room was the same, barren and empty, clean and tidy.
Tyler’s room surprised her. He was the sloppy one of the three, yet his room looked exactly like Mike and Cala’s. There was no stray sock, no pencils or rubber bands. She knew then, in that one instant, that her children were sending her a message. What exactly the message was, she wasn’t sure. What she did know for certain was they were gone, and she was alone. And all because of Logan.
A quick glance at her watch told her it was only nine o’clock. What was she going to do for the rest of the day? Make something for dinner so that she could eat it for the rest of the week? Write a letter to Logan she would never mail? Wait for it to snow so she could shovel the walk in case she wanted to go someplace? She looked around, a helpless look on her face before she reached for the wine bottle on the kitchen counter.
Kristine tugged and pulled the heavy footlocker from the front porch into the house—Logan’s personal belongings, which had arrived by Lucas Freight. Her heart took on an extra beat. If Logan’s locker was here, he must be close behind. Finally, she was going to get some answers.
Using all her strength, Kristine pushed and shoved the heavy trunk across the wood floors. She knew the metal corners were gouging and nicking the old oak floors, but she didn’t care. Logan’s belongings meant more to her than some three-hundred-year-old floors. This had to mean Logan was on his way. Finally. A month and a half overdue, but he was coming. She was sure of it. It would be just like Logan to show up on Groundhog Day and laugh himself silly.
How was she going to open the trunk? Where was the key? Logan had the key, of course. All the bank records must be inside. Did she dare break the lock? Should she wait for Logan to arrive? Maybe she should call the kids. Maybe she should have a drink. Brandy in coffee would be good. Ten o’clock in the morning wasn’t too early if you were going by the time in Germany or England or even Spain or Italy. Besides, she needed something to shore up her nerves.
Kristine was on her third cup of coffee before she got the courage to go to the storage closet for a hammer. On the way back to the kitchen her gaze drifted to the coffeepot. She’d made four cups, and the pot looked like it was still more than half-full. She purposely avoided eye contact with the brandy bottle on the counter.
When she told Logan about the trauma she’d been through these past weeks, he would forgive her for breaking into his trunk. The hammer rose and fell, twice, three times, then, on the fourth try, the metal flange flew to the side.
Breathing like a racehorse, Kristine squatted down to pull and tug at the heavy lid. A wave of dizziness swept over her at the scent emanating from the trunk. Logan’s scent. Her touch was reverent when she removed each item to place it carefully on the floor next to her. She loved the feel of her husband’s things, loved the smell, loved touching the toothpaste tube. It wasn’t until the trunk was completely empty that she realized there were no brown, accordion-pleated envelopes. However, there was a stack of letters that had never been opened. Letters she’d written. His wallet and car keys were the only other items in the manila envelope. Logan hadn’t touched the trunk once she packed it. Fanatic that she was where her husband was concerned, she knew the toothpaste tube was exactly the way she’d packed it. There were no messy clothes. Everything was ironed to perfection and stacked neatly.
Kristine pawed through the contents, her breathing ragged and raspy. If Logan’s wallet and car keys were in the trunk, that had to mean something happened to him. Logan never went anywhere without his wallet and keys. Who put the letters, keys, and wallet in the trunk? Logan? Some stranger? Who? She looked around, her eyes wild. What does all of this mean?
She needed more coffee. More brandy. Lots and lots of brandy to figure this out.
Rage, unlike anything she’d ever experienced, rivered through her. She kicked at her husband’s belongings, scattering them in every direction. That was when she saw the scribbled words on the back of the manila envelope. She squinted to read the words.
Colonel Kelly was in such a hurry to return to the States, he asked me to ship his belongings January 1. Enjoy your new life.
It was signed by Corporal John McElveen.
Kristine peered at the date. January 1. It was now February 1. She’d been in Germany on the first of January. She’d tried to locate Corporal McElveen but was told he’d been reassigned to a post in the States. No other information was given her.
It was all too much for her. With one of Logan’s tee shirts in her hand, Kristine curled into a ball on the braided rug by the fireplace, the tee shirt next to her cheek.
She slept, tears running down her cheeks even in sleep.
5
Kristine sat on the sagging front steps leading up to the wide front porch. In her hand was the coffee cup she was never without. Only she knew the cup held more liquor than coffee.
She heard the car before she saw it. Were the children finally coming home? They’d said maybe in June, but then June passed, and now it was July. Maybe it was better if they didn’t come home. Maybe it would be better if she just drank herself to death. Would they come home then? She didn’t know. An hour from now she wouldn’t even remember having these thoughts. She slurped from the heavy mug.
There was dust on the road. The dust meant the car was coming to the house. She never had guests or company of any kind. For one crazy second she wondered if it was Logan. She rejected the idea the moment she saw the red lettering on the bank’s minibus. Aaron Dunwoodie. He was dressed impeccably, the way all banke
rs dressed, but he had an extra plus; he was fit, trim, and very good-looking. She felt like calling him Judas.
“Get off my property. I didn’t ask you here. Go away. I don’t want to talk to you. You’re a Judas is what you are.”
“I need to talk to you, Mrs. Kelly.”
“Why? I have nothing to say to you. I am not overdrawn at the bank. Take your bus and go back to the bank. I’m never going to forgive you for helping my children leave me. You had no right to do that. No right at all. Why are you still here? I told you to leave.”
“I’m concerned about you, Mrs. Kelly. Your account has been inactive for six months. How are you living? What’s happened to you?”
“I hit rock bottom is what happened. You took away the only thing I had left—my children. If you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police.”
“How are you going to do that, Mrs. Kelly? Your phone was disconnected last month. You have no electricity, either. That’s what happens when you don’t pay your bills.”
“So what! It’s none of your business. I have plenty of candles.” Maybe that’s why she hadn’t heard from the children.
“There’s a rumor in town that a deranged person is walking the highway and the fields. They say the woman has hair like a wild bush and ragged clothing. I came to see for myself. They’re talking about you, Mrs. Kelly.”
“It’s a free country. I didn’t do anything wrong. Go away. I was born here, and I’m going to die here.”
“When was the last time you ate decent food, had a bath, washed your hair?”
“That’s none of your business. I told you to go away.”
“How long have you been drinking? You’re drunk, Mrs. Kelly. It’s nine o’clock in the morning.”
“Yes-I-am-drunk! That’s none of your business either. Don’t you need to open your vault or something?”
Celebration Page 8
