Lucy helped her pack. They went downstairs together, ate breakfast, then checked out and got in the truck and headed west on I-84. Portland, Oregon lay a little over an hour away.
Forty-five minutes downriver they hit the first of the strip mall suburbs east of town, passing a plasticene array of pedimented post-modern retail warehouses, their parking lot seas interspersed with processed timber townhouses crowded in fenced subdivisions alongside the freeway. Land O' Lakes. Lake O' the Woods. Timberline Villas. Emerald Forest. Mt. Hood Heights. Named as if words made woods. By the time they reached the edge of Portland Lucy had cooked up a story of sorts, although she knew it wouldn't stand much scrutiny. Lucy hoped her mother wasn't in a scrutinous mood.
They made the final approach on automatic pilot. She'd been here last for her father's funeral. "This is it, kid," Lucy said as they pulled up in front of the quaint white wooden house on the neat little block lined with other houses the same size and shape. It was cute, if slightly shabby. Mom's boxy American car was parked in the driveway. The curtains were open, a good sign. For years Daddy'd kept them closed, rain or shine, day and night. In the warm spring sunshine clusters of tall white and purple irises bloomed on both sides of the front porch, beneath open windows. "The home turf. My 'hood." She turned off the engine and took a deep breath. Home sweet home. Nobody on the streets. That always took a minute to get used to, coming from manic New York. "So what's the story, one more time?"
"My mom's your friend Janey Robbins, lives near Bend. My dad's Jack. They're divorced. You're giving me a ride to go see him in Seattle."
"Right. The rest you can make up." She took Ellen's hand. "Just don't tell the truth, kid. Not just yet. OK?" Ellen nodded. "You can let the dog out now." Ellen opened the door and the poodle scrambled out and took off. Lucy threw open her door and whistled sharply. Claud came to a skidding stop half a block away and headed back.
Her mother opened the front door and came down the steps. "Lucy, darling, hello," she called out, hurrying towards the truck. "Gosh, that's a big truck," she said. "You must have a lot of things. Is that your dog? I didn't know you had a dog." Lucy met her halfway for a hug. She had stiff red-brown hair, now streaked with gray. She was medium-tall and thin like Lucy, and wore a sleeveless pink button-up blouse, pale green toreador pants, and little white sneakers. She was a year into widowhood. These days she and Lucy "worked" at their relationship. Mom worked at not disapproving everything Lucy did; Lucy worked at not hearing disapproval—or was it disappointment?—in every word her mother spoke.
"Hi, Mom. Yeah, that's Claud the poodle. I got him in Santa Fe a while back. Remember when I was doing that story on those fake statues, and..."
"Well, what have we here?" Mom said, as Ellen came into view. "Hello there, young lady," she said.
"Mom, this is Ellen Morris. Remember my pal Janey Robbins? This is her daughter. I picked her up at Janey's house near Bend. She’s headed up to Seattle to see her Dad, Jack Morris, so I thought I'd give her a ride, and..."
"Hello, Ellen," said Mom. "I'm Lucy's mother. Althea Ripken. How are you?"
"Fine. Hi," said Ellen.
"Lucy have I got a surprise for you! You're not going to believe who's come to visit from California."
"California? Who do you know from California?"
"Well, maybe we should wait till she gets back from church. Then...well, you'll see."
"Church? It's Thursday morning! Who goes to church on Thursday?"
"Some people," her mother said. "Some people go everyday, Lucy."
"Yeah, right," Lucy said. "But meanwhile can we maybe have something to drink so I can get started unloading? I've got to deal with this truck situation ASAP."
"Certainly, Lucy. Come on inside." Sensing her own hostility surfacing, Lucy flashed Ellen a be-cool glance as they headed up to the house.
"Irises look great, Mom," Lucy said.
"Yes, well, ever since you planted them they keep coming back, don't they?"
Lucy walked into the house she grew up in.
The house looked bright, cheerier than she remembered. Sunshine flooded the once-perpetually gloomy, gin-soaked rooms. "So Mom, you were saying about somebody from California?"
"Let's go in the kitchen. I made some iced tea. Had a hot spring this year," she said. They followed her into the blue, floral-wallpapered kitchen and sat down at the yellow-topped table while she poured tea from a pitcher into tall glasses with ice. Hearing the ice crackle-melting Lucy felt her years shrinking away until she and Ellen were like classmates, watching Mom bring the tea over. "So, Lucy, guess what?" her mom said, handing over the glasses of tea. Lucy took a sip. Intensely sugared as expected, it tasted good.
"Gee, I don't know, Mom. How about...you found Jesus! Did Jesus come up from California to save our souls?"
"Don't talk like that, Lucy," her mother said. "Lucy's always been one for wisecracking," she said to Ellen. "Got herself in a lot of trouble in school that way."
"She's been really nice to me," Ellen said.
"Thanks, Ellen," said Lucy. "See, Mom. I ain't so bad. And you know I like Jesus OK. I just don't...take him quite as seriously as the Christians do. Hey, it's not like you raised me to praise the Lord on a regular basis, Mom."
"You have a sister, Lucy," her mother said softly, matter-of-factly maximizing the drama.
"What?" Lucy laughed. "Mom, you're sixty-two. Don't tell me you...got knocked up and had a baby this year. Seems a little..."
"She's your half-sister. I found out after your father died. Your father had...well...anyway, she's about a year older than you, she lives in San Diego, she has a husband who's a lawyer, she has three kids...and she's a lawyer herself."
"You're joking! A sister? A lawyer with three kids? Are you crazy? How did you..."
"She called me on the phone. Apparently her mother heard from mutual old friends that your father was not well, and decided to tell her about him—about who her real father was, but she got the information too late, or it was mixed up, and so when she called he was already gone. When she found out that she had a sister she wanted to call you but when I told her you were headed out here she decided she wanted to come up and meet you. It was supposed to be a surprise but now that you're here, well, you know, I never could keep a secret. Thought I did a pretty good job not saying anything over the phone the last few months."
"I'll say! Jee-esus, you did, Mom. Whew," Lucy said. "Well I'll be. She's here? Where is she? My God. A sister of my own. I've been an only child all my life," she said to Ellen. "Or so I thought. This is kind of...big news."
"Wow," Ellen said. "Pretty neat."
"I was thinking that, too," Lucy said. "Pretty fucking cool! A sis!"
"Lucy!" her mother said. "Don't talk like that in my house."
"Sorry, Ma....I'm just a little...overwhelmed. So what does she look like? Where is she? I want to meet her."
"She'll be back soon, and you can see for yourself," Mom said, pouring more tea. "Oh...and Lucy," she added. "What I said about church—I was talking about her. I guess you need to know that she is a devout Christian."
"You're kidding! You mean like...a fundamentalist kind of thing, or..."
"I mean she believes in Jesus. Talks about him a lot. She's very...old-fashioned."
"I thought you said she was a lawyer."
"She is, but...well, she can explain it herself. She just drove up." Lucy looked out the window as a sleek new black BMW stopped in the driveway behind her mother's ten year old Chevy. She watched herself climb out. Not herself but what she would be if she was a married Christian lawyer from San Diego: rich, respectable, and utterly self-assured in a kind of humble yet confident way. Long straight blonde hair, upright walk, proper navy blue dress and sensible shoes. But Lucy could see she looked a hell of a lot like her.
"I'll let her in," Lucy said, jumping up to run to the door. She flung it open, and there stood her sister, blue eyes the same as Lucy's, with a little cross of gold on a chain around her
neck. "My God," Lucy said. "Hi! I'm Lucy. You must be...Jesus, you know mom didn't tell me your name." She laughed.
"Loretta," she said, and they hugged. "Praise the Lord," she murmured. "Thank you Jesus." They pulled apart, looked at each other.
"I can't believe it," Lucy said. "You look...we look..."
"Like sisters!" Loretta said, laughing and crying. "Lucy and Loretta." They hugged again. "It's a miracle," Loretta said. "Thank you, Lord." They separated.
"Yeah, just like a couple of peas in a pod. How about that?" Lucy said. "It's amazing, isn't it? A sister. Holy Maroly!" Lucy couldn't help but stare. She was so like her and yet so unlike her. Lucy felt like the hand-washed version, wrinkled, loose-fitting, and funky. Loretta was bleached, starched, and permanent pressed. "Loretta, this is my friend Ellen. Actually she's my friend's daughter, but she's my friend too. Ellen...my sister, Loretta."
"Hi," Ellen said shyly. "Nice to meet you."
"Hello, Ellen," said Loretta. "You must be about...sixteen. My Candace will be sixteen in August."
"You have a fifteen year old daughter?" Lucy said.
"And an eleven year old boy and a nine year old girl. Lucas and Mary. I thank the Lord all three have their health and they're good kids."
"Lucy doesn't have any kids," said her Mom. "She's been too busy with her career in New York. Right, Lucy?"
"Yeah, that's right, Mom."
"What do you do, Lucy?" said Loretta, gazing at her. Was it that she looked so much like her, only so totally different, that made her seem so strange? Or was it that she had a really odd way of staring?
"Oh, at the moment I'm...between things. But I've been working as a photographer and a writer for magazines and stuff in New York for years. I got a book published a year or so back and about twelve people bought it. I really like it in Manhattan, but...I got kind of burned out, so I decided to move to Seattle. I'm on the way there now."
"Hmm," said Loretta. "Sounds interesting. I was in New York several times when I lived in Boston, but I didn't like it much. Too noisy, and..."
"When did you live in Boston?" Lucy asked.
"Actually it was Cambridge. I went to law school at Harvard," Loretta said. "That's where I met Jeff. My husband. We graduated together."
"Wow," Lucy said. "I'm impressed. Harvard law."
"But Seattle is wonderful. We...Jeff and the kids and I...were up there at a family life conference last year. It's a lovely city."
"Yeah, it is," Lucy said. She'd been up there last year, too. Making herself sick sniffing heroin with a 25 year old rock n' roll singer, helping a friend out of a failed marriage to a late-blooming gay man, generally misbehaving. "I'm gonna stay with a friend for a while, then maybe get a place, I don't know..."
"Well, let's not worry about that now," said Loretta. "I just can't believe you're here. That we're here, together. It's a miracle, don't you think, Lucy? Don't you just want to thank God?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever," said Lucy. "Pretty amazing. Hey, you look great, you know. My mom said you were a year older than me, but you don't look a day over thirty. And with three kids, that's something."
"Prayer keeps me young, Lucy. Plus I run fifty miles a week, but that's..."
"Fifty miles a week! That's some serious mileage."
"Jeff got me into it. He was a long distance runner in college. Almost made the Olympic team in '84. We ran together in the Jesus Marathon in Arizona last year."
"Jesus Marathon?" Lucy asked. "What's that?"
"Every mile brings a smile to the face of the Lord," she said with a smile. "And a dollar to the cause. With eleven hundred runners that was a lot of dollars."
"I can imagine."
"Do I detect a note of cynicism in your tone, Lucy?" Loretta asked, still smiling.
"Cynicism? No...I'm just...not really a Christian is all, so I find it a little hard to take seriously all the Jesus talk."
"Jesus is the way, Lucy. You just have to let him in to your heart." She radiated a kind of aggressive serenity. "He's the truth."
"He may be your truth, but he's not mine," Lucy said.
"No. There's a difference between having an opinion and knowing the truth of Jesus, Lucy. I'm a lawyer, and believe me, I know how relative and situational ethics can be. But Jesus is beyond all that. He is the Truth."
Lucy gave her a harder look, which she sweetly returned. "Yeah, OK. Well, anyways, it is pretty miraculous that we're here in this room together right now. I swear to God, Daddy never said a word—about you I mean—all my life. But look at you. Look at us. We're practically twins." Except for the cross and the attitude behind it. The husband and the three kids. The fifty miles a week. The woman was too, too virtuous. But Lucy knew there was no virtue in feeling superior and so she let go of the feeling. This was her sister!
"Now girls," said her mother. "We have to...I don't know how long you're planning to stay but with Loretta in your room things are a little crowded, and..."
"You're sleeping in my room?" Lucy asked her, sounding more querulous than she intended.
"You have John Lennon on the wall where Jesus belongs," Loretta said. "I don't think Jeff would approve, but I kind of like it for a change. Of course since its your room I'll move now that you're..."
"No, that's OK. Hasn't really been my room in almost twenty years. Poor dead Johnnie is probably covered with spiderwebs by now. Ellen and I can sleep in the living room. I seem to recall that brown couch is a convertible. OK by you Mom?"
"Fine. Do you want to start unloading your things now?"
"I guess. Yeah, sure, let me just walk the dog first, OK?"
"I'm going with you...I mean, can I come too?" Ellen said anxiously.
"Why don't you stay and help me make up the bed, young lady?" said Mom.
Ellen looked worried. "No, I want to go with Lucy. If that's OK."
"Yeah, its fine," said Lucy. "She and Claud have seriously bonded, Mom. So..."
"I'll help you with the bedding, Althea," said Loretta.
"We can do it later," said Lucy.
"No, I'll take care of it," said Loretta. "I like making beds."
"Really? Never been one of my favorite activities," Lucy said. "But OK, you want to do it go ahead. And thanks."
They went out the front door. Claud waited on the porch.
"Let's go, pup," said Lucy. "Walk time." They started down the sidewalk.
"Wait, lemme get my backpack," said Ellen.
"What's the...yeah, OK," said Lucy, remembering what it held. God, life in New York City had seemed so precarious and now she recalled it like Eden before the fall. Ellen fetched the green pack from the truck and slung it over one shoulder. They headed off. Lucy looked back and saw her sister's face in the window. "So what do you think?" Lucy said after a moment. "Hey, come back here, dog," she shouted, as Claud dashed across a yard in pursuit of a squirrel.
"About your family?"
"I guess that's what they are, aren't they?" Lucy said. "Yeah, about my family."
"Your mom's OK. Your sister...that's so weird, finding out you have a sister after all those years thinking you didn't, and then...I can relate."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothin'...just weird family stuff I guess. I mean I know its exciting but its kind of odd too isn't it? It's like...oh, never mind. It just changes everything around. She talks about Jesus a lot. But what are we..am I gonna do? Do you want me to go?"
"No. Long as we, you know, keep our cover, I think we can stay here a day or two and then head up to Seattle. Just be careful what you say." They turned a corner, and Lucy pointed. "See that tree? The big one with those boards way up high? That was my treehouse. Used to bomb boys with major water balloons from up there. When my dad got too drunk I'd go up there and hide out."
"Your dad drank a lot?"
"He got wasted almost every day," Lucy said. "He was a miserable soul."
"That's too bad."
"Yeah, it was. We had some good times, but he was too whiskey-pis
sed most of the time to do much. Way it goes I guess. Families can be a lot of trouble sometimes." She looked at Ellen. "So have you thought any more about what you want to do about your pregnancy?"
"I was thinkin' I should talk to...like you said, a lawyer, about it....and then...I don't know, Lucy, I...I just can't make up my mind to...you know, get an abort...I think it's wrong! I can't help it." Lucy put an arm around her shoulders.
"There's still time to figure it out. But sooner is definitely better. How about we visit a clinic here in Portland, and just look into your options, OK? You might want to talk to someone who knows more about this stuff than I do. It doesn't mean a commitment. Maybe we can get some advice from someone who's had some experience. Does that sound OK?"
"I guess so. But...you won't make me get a...you know...if I don't want to, right?"
Lucy stopped. She put her hands on Ellen's shoulders and looked into her face. "I promise. I won't make you do anything except I wouldn't mind if you stopped dying your hair, because it would match your eyes better if you left it dark. And your eyes are beautiful, Ellen."
They went back to the house, had the mom and sis move their cars, and then Lucy backed her truck into the driveway, parked it, and opened the rear end for the first time in a week. Her stuff looked shabby outside the confines of her loft. She had intended to unload the back half of the stuff into storage here, and drive the truck with the rest to Seattle, but now she did not want to spend any more time with that truck. Things seemed to be getting just a little too hot. So Lucy, Ellen, and Loretta, possessed of seemingly endless amounts of energy and good cheer, offloaded most of it into the garage, leaving a pile of boxes, bags, and miscellany heaped on the edge of the driveway to be loaded into a rented car.
"Well, that does it. Everything's out," said Loretta, sweeping the last of the trash out of the back with a flourish, flawless still in khaki work pants and white button-down shirt. She had a little pink scarf tied round her neck, pale suede gloves, and not a drop of sweat showed on her face.
"What a heap of junk," Lucy said, looking at her worldly goods. She wore a white t-shirt and old jeans. " Why did I bring all this garbage all the way from New York?"
Utah: A Lucy Ripken Mystery (The Lucy Ripken Mysteries Book 7) Page 10
