by Lisa Stowe
Chapter 12
“I thought Ethel had some long running affair with the mayor,” Rachel said, cutting a huge cinnamon role in half, releasing steam and scents of spices.
“She may have,” Florence said. “But she was a madam wasn’t she? Nothing to say she couldn’t share her bed with whoever she wanted. Maybe some railroad man caught her fancy. You’re the historian dear. See if there’s something about Ethel going away for a vacation about the same time that boy was born.”
“I’ll do that,” Rachel said.
“Do you remember any more stories about Charles?” Cody asked.
“Charles? Oh, he’s a quiet boy. He takes care of his mother you know. He never gets to play with us." Florence pinched off a piece of cinnamon roll. “Of course, that was a hard time, what with the war and all.”
Florence told rambling stories for two or three more hours, sometimes repeating ones she had already told, and sometimes forgetting what year she was in. But Cody and Rachel sat patiently through it all, listening to words of a time long past. There was nothing more about Charles, but Cody could have sat the day away, soaking in the warm acceptance of the old woman. But eventually Florence flagged.
“What was your name again dear?”
“Cody.”
“That’s right. And where was I, Carly?”
“About to head off for a nap,” Rachel said, slipping a hand under her grandmother’s elbow.
“Oh yes. It’s been so nice having your friend here, dear. So nice to have company. What was her name again?”
Watching Rachel support her grandmother across the kitchen, head bent to catch Florence’s rambling words, Cody saw with aching clarity what was missing with her mother. Rachel loved her grandmother. It was there in the patience, the respect, the kindness. Cody couldn’t remember the last time she had done something for her mother without feeling anger or bitterness or frustration. She was sure she had loved her mother at one time, and maybe she still did, but if so it was buried beneath too many memories held onto for too long.
Cody never thought of herself as having any similarities to her mother, but maybe holding grudges past their due date was one of them. She had to admit she tugged out her mother’s transgressions, chewing on them long after she should have tossed them away. Maybe, by hanging on to the hurtful words and demeaning actions, Cody had done nothing more than keep wounds open and bleeding.
“She’s asleep,” Rachel said, coming out of the back room and shutting the door behind her. “Want some more tea?”
“Sure,” Cody responded, still thinking about May and the rocky road they traveled as mother and daughter. “Where are your parents?”
“Mine? Oh hell, I don’t know. Traveling somewhere. You know, part of the ‘retire and abandon their kid for the motor home’ crowd. How about yours?”
“My dad’s traveling as well,” Cody said after a moment. “Well, sort of. He left when I was little and I’ve never heard from him since. My mother raised me alone, and I didn’t know I had any other family until my grandfather showed up.”
“I bet that made your mom and you close.”
“Actually,” Cody said, “Just the opposite. My mother is…what’s a good word for her? A martyr. Know what I mean?”
“Not really. Give me an example.”
“I take her grocery shopping, and we always park in the disabled slots. I don’t know how she got a handicap permit. Her biggest health problem is her weight." Cody fidgeted with her plate, pushing crumbs around with her finger. “She gets out of the car just fine, but as soon as she sees someone, she’ll put the back of her hand to her forehead, and get short of breath. She’ll lean on me, and the person will go get her one of those motorized carts to ride around in, all the time looking at me like I’m a terrible daughter because I’m just standing there.”
Rachel actually laughed and Cody had to think back over her words, looking for the humor she had missed.
“Shit, Cody. I can just picture it. Tell me another.”
“I’ll be at one end of the house and she’ll call me into the room where she is sitting and ask me to bring something to her, and it will be something that is just out of her reach. So I’ll have dropped whatever I’m doing, come from wherever I’ve been, to pick up something all she had to do was stand up to get.”
Cody tried to smile, to add humor to the story, but it felt like a grimace on her face.
“And, god forbid if I complain, because then the martyr comes out with a big sigh, and she starts telling me to never mind, she’ll get it herself, she’s sorry she’s such a hardship for me, and then she’ll move into telling me all she had to give up to raise me, especially when…” Cody’s words dried up. She had started out half joking, wanting to keep the conversation light, but the familiar phrases sank their teeth into her heart.
“When what?” Rachel asked, fingering back wisps of her hair.
Cody stared at the bobbed brown hair, at the way the light pooled gold in strands and wondered why someone with such beautiful hair would cut it so short. She would have grown it long, worn it as a badge of beauty. Unlike her own hair, ugly in its frizzy red wildness. It was why she kept it cropped, so she could ignore it. She had tried wearing it long and in a braid but it had still been too visible. Her eyes dropped to her hands, clenched in her lap, seeing freckles and mannish fingers that never seemed to hold a ring right.
“Cody?”
“Oh, sorry. I was just remembering.”
“No you weren’t. You were going to repeat what your mother said, and you clammed up.”
“My mother can say things that hurt, and say them more times than you need to hear them. Sometimes it’s like she doesn’t think you realize her words are true, so she has to keep pounding them into your heart day after day long after you’ve given up telling her you don’t need to hear them anymore. I end up mad, and then get angry because I’m mad.”
“Let’s go out to the living room,” Rachel said, picking up her tea and another cinnamon roll.
Cody followed, hoping the weight of her words would slide off her heart and stay in the kitchen.
“I can tell you one thing anger does." Rachel sank onto an armchair and clumped her boots up on the coffee table. “It allows you to say things you might not have the balls to, and it helps you stand up for yourself. And damn, girl, that sounds like something you need to do.”
The jarring notes of Rachel’s cell phone invaded the room.
“What is that?” Cody asked, relieved to be saved from having to respond.
“Combiechrist,” Rachel said, her boots clumping from the coffee table to the floor as she stretched her legs out so she could retrieve the phone from the pocket of her jeans. “Like heavy metal on acid. Love it." She flipped her phone open. “Hello? Yeppers Jess, she’s right here.”
Rachel tossed the phone to Cody, who managed to catch it before it hit the floor.
“I got your message about the prank phone call,” Jess said. “You didn’t say if it was male or female.”
“It was a whisper. I couldn’t tell.”
“So nothing you could identify. Did you call the main switchboard to see if they transferred the call or if the person knew your room number?”
“I didn’t think of that,” Cody said. “I’m sorry. I guess I was rattled.”
“No problem. I’ll follow up on that with the motel. I’m also wondering if you’ve thought about what the call could mean.”
“No,” Cody said. “Unless by tattling they meant talking to you.”
“I agree. Either that or they’re worried about something more they think you might have to tell us.”
Cody gripped the phone tighter. “I’ve told you everything.”
“I believe you Cody. But I’m wondering if you might be willing to do something for me. Like go back up that trail. I’d like Matt to take you up there and see if anything jars your memory. You were in shock. Maybe you saw something you didn’t realize the importance of.”
“How does that help with the phone message?”
“It doesn’t,” Jess said. “It just gave me the idea. I’m working a couple angles with the phone thing. I don’t want you worrying about that. If you get another call though I want you to call me or Matt immediately.”
“I can do that." Cody relaxed. It was easier to agree to a phone call than going back up that trail.
“Great. So what about trying that trail?” Jess wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily. “Matt could meet you there in an hour.”
“I’m at Florence’s, but I guess Rachel could drop me off.”
“Perfect. I’ll let him know. Thanks Cody. And don’t worry too much about the call. Like I said, I have a few ideas.”
Cody closed the phone and handed it back to Rachel.
“So, we have time for another cinnamon half?”
The call had interrupted the confessional about May, and Cody was relieved when Rachel didn’t bring her mother back up.
“How long have you worked at the museum?” she asked.
Rachel licked cinnamon off her fingers. “Oh, about five years I guess. I got the job right out of high school. The benefits are good and I love anything to do with history, but you saw granny. At some point I’m going to need to pay for a full time caregiver for her. My wages aren’t going to cover that expense.”
“How long before you have to do that?” Cody asked.
“No idea." Rachel stood. “Hell, she’s strong. Come on, I’ll run you down to town and then I’m going to come back and sit with Granny for a while.”
