Shadow of a Life

by Tifani Clark

  *****

  We ditched our bikes on my lawn and climbed the stairs to the front door. My heart skipped a beat as I reached for the doorknob. The door wasn’t open, but it wasn’t closed either. It was as if someone had pushed it shut behind them and it didn’t quite latch.

  Camille scrunched up her nose as she looked at me. “What’s wrong? You look scared.”

  “Guys, I know the front door was shut and locked. I double-checked it before I left my house. Someone’s been here.”

  “You’re positive you locked it?” Peter asked with concern.

  “Yes!” I snapped at him without thinking. I was scared.

  “Is there any chance your dad missed his flight and came back already?” Camille asked as she slowly backed down the stairs.

  “He would’ve called me. Guys, someone has definitely been here. What if they’re still inside?” I was freaking out.

  Peter put his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s check it out. It’s probably fine. Maybe the wind caught it.”

  He led the way while Camille and I hovered close behind. He threw the front door open and peered inside before stepping over the threshold. We looked around the living room first and didn’t see anything amiss. My heart thumped loudly in my chest and I was sure if anyone was hiding inside they would be able to hear it. We stepped through the kitchen doorway and collectively gasped. Someone sat the kitchen table drinking a glass of ice water.

  “Mom?”

  “Jamie.”

  “You scared the crap out of us.”

  “Why?”

  “You left the door open. We thought someone was in here.”

  “Someone is in here. Me.” She laughed.

  “Hi, Lillian,” Camille said as she stepped out from behind Peter. She loved my mom and always called her by her first name—which my mom insisted on. I think their personalities were more similar than mine and my mom’s. I was more like my dad.

  “Hey, Cam. I’m loving your new hairstyle.” Mom gave Camille a little squeeze on her way to give me a hug.

  “She cut her hair in November, Mom.”

  “Well, it’s new to me. Who’s this?” she asked, looking at Peter.

  “I’m Peter Ashby. I live nearby.”

  “I remember you. You came to Jamie’s birthday party when she was little. Wow, you’re all grown up now. You even have muscles.” She playfully patted him on the arm.

  I was mortified. I didn’t know who was more embarrassing when it came to boys—my dad or my mom.

  “That was a fun party,” he offered. I’m sure he barely remembered it.

  “Mom, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “I dunno. I thought you might like the surprise. Is Dad at work?”

  “He’s in Chicago.”

  “You mean he just left you here—by yourself?”

  I didn’t respond because I knew she didn’t actually care. If she did, she wouldn’t have left me all those years ago. Dad referred to Mom as his Wildflower. She was full of life and made the world prettier and happier wherever she went, but you couldn’t control her. Her seeds fell where they may and sprung up in random places just when you least expected it. I thought of her as a gypsy. She went from one job and one town to another, trying new things and exploring the world. She phoned or wrote a letter now and then, and sometimes she even dropped in unexpectedly. I loved seeing her, but after every visit my dad would retreat to his office for weeks and I was left even more alone.

  “So, Jamesie, what are you guys up to? I came to town to see some friends and thought I’d pop in for a visit.”

  First, I hated the pet name she had for me. Second, I loved the fact that visiting me was the secondary part of her reason for being there. I tried to stay calm. I knew that was how she operated and I couldn’t let it get to me. Just try to enjoy her while she’s here. This situation is probably still better than having her here permanently, fighting with Dad.

  “We were thinking about renting a movie this evening—maybe getting a pizza, too,” I said.

  “Fun. Can I come?” Mom was a perpetual teenager.

  “Of course you’re invited,” Camille insisted before I had a chance to tell her no.

  Well, I guess I didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble for having a “party.” There would be “adult” supervision. I just hoped Mom didn’t try to flirt with Peter or Travis—I would definitely have to find a new town to live in if that happened.

  The four of us sat down in the living room and listened to Mom tell stories about her current life. The woman knew how to live—I could give her credit for that. She had just started to tell about the month she spent on a cattle ranch in south Texas when we were interrupted by the buzzing of the doorbell.

  “Oooh, it’s probably Travis.” Camille jumped up and opened the door.

  “Hi, Camille. Is Jamie around?”

  I couldn’t believe who stood at the door. It was Rita, looking very anxious. How does she know where I live and why is she here? What should I tell Mom? I’m sure I looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “Uhh . . . hi. Come in, Rita,” I opened the door wider for her. “Mom, this is Rita. She’s the mother of one of my friends.” I hoped Rita would play along with my charade.

  Mom didn’t stand up, but greeted her warmly from the comfort of the couch. “Hi. It’s good to meet you. I’m sure Jamie has told me all about your daughter . . . or is it son?”

  Rita looked at me. “Oh . . . that would be daughter. Sophia.”

  “What a beautiful name? Is she here with you?”

  “No. That’s actually why I came to see Jamie.”

  We had the attention of the entire room. Three other sets of eyes were on us and Rita seemed hesitant to proceed.

  “I was wondering if you’d heard from Sophia, Jamie. She’s not answering her cell. I needed to tell her something. You know how she is about keeping her cell charged, though.” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh yeah—I know Sophia. I heard from her a couple of hours ago, actually. She was hanging out with Nick in Hai . . . Hartford, you know.”

  “Oh good. I hoped she was still with him. I thought she might have left him by now. If you talk to her again, can you give her a message for me, please?” she asked.

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  “Will you tell her that her Goodwin relatives are in town and I think they would like to see her?”

  I could feel my eyes clouding over as I understood what Rita was trying to tell me. We exchanged knowing looks and Rita nodded. I was sure Cam and Peter caught on, too. Camille sat on the couch biting her nails, something she only did when she was really nervous. I hoped Mom wouldn’t notice the concern rapidly spreading through the room.

  “Well, I better get going. My husband’s probably wondering where I disappeared to. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Peters,” Rita said.

  “It’s just Lillian. Call me Lillian. Oh, and it was nice to meet you, too, Rita,” Mom gushed.

  I showed Rita to the door and she squeezed my hand and whispered, “Be careful,” right before I shut the door. I stepped back into the room and plopped down on the chair I had previously occupied. Camille, Peter, and I exchanged looks, but none of us dared say anything. You could have heard a pin drop in the room.

  “She was nice. And very pretty. How come I’ve never heard you talk about Sophia before?” Mom finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

  “She’s kind of new to town. I guess she hasn’t come up in conversation, yet.”

  Mom seemed to be okay with that answer and a thoughtful look spread across her face. “Did Rita say that their Goodwin relatives were visiting?”

  “Yeah, I think that’s the name she said.”

  “Huh. I wonder if you’re related to your friend. That would be really funny, wouldn’t it?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “You know, because you have Goodwin relatives, too.”

  “What are you talking about, Mom?”


  “My mother was a Goodwin. I’m sure you knew that, honey.”

  “Why would I have ever known that? You never talk about your family. Why haven’t you told me about them before now?” I yelled.

  Mom’s mouth dropped open at my outburst. “Jamie, why are you getting so upset? I didn’t know you cared about your ancestors, I guess. Sorry.”

  “Do you remember any of their names?”

  “Sure. Grandpa and Grandma Goodwin.” She laughed before looking around at her audience to see who would be amused by her joke. Camille was the only one who took the bait.

  “Honestly, Jamie, I can’t remember anyone’s name right now. I just remember Grandpa Goodwin talking about his crazy relatives sometimes. I think there were a pretty wild bunch of people in his family line. If you really want to know their names you can look through their stuff. I think when Dad moved you over here from the other house he just put everything that had been in the attic there into the attic here. Grandma Goodwin saved everything and she passed it on to my mother. When my mom passed away, I inherited all the junk.”

  I looked toward the stairs. “What kind of stuff is up there?”

  “I can’t really remember. Most of it was in old boxes that probably haven’t been looked through in decades. I’m sure it’s mostly paperwork and maybe a few old pictures and trinkets. Maybe you should go through it—there might be valuables up there. Remember to share with me if you find anything worth a lot of money.” She laughed.

  Every part of my body begged for a race up to my room to climb the curving staircase leading to the attic. I was afraid if I acted too anxious Mom would question my motives even more—or worse, she might offer to help. I did not want her around if I found something important.

  “So how long are you staying, Mom?”

  “Do you want to get rid of me already?” she asked, pretending to be hurt.

  “Of course not. I just wondered how much time I get to spend with you,” I lied.

  “Well, I think my friend wanted to leave kind of early in the morning. That’s his car outside. I dropped him off at another friend’s and he let me borrow his car to come over here.”

  I looked outside and saw a blue SUV with New Jersey plates parked across the street. I’d noticed it when we first came home, but assumed it belonged to someone visiting a neighbor. I was glad Dad wasn’t there to witness Mom talking about other male friends.

  The doorbell rang again and that time it really was Travis. Mom offered to drive us all to rent a movie. After the week and a half we’d been having, we opted for a comedy rather than a horror movie, although normally that would have been more fun. I vetoed anything romantic, hoping to avoid watching any awkward love scenes while sitting at my house with the boy I was infatuated with and my semi-estranged mother. Mom offered to spring for the pizza, but I picked up the tab knowing she lived on borrowed money half the time.

  We were soon back at my place enjoying our pie dripping in cheese and the latest comedic release. Mom stayed in the room and watched the movie with us, but thankfully she behaved herself. I had fun, but my mind was on one thing only and it wasn’t the movie. I couldn’t wait to get into that attic, and I desperately hoped Mom didn’t change her plans and decide to stay longer. At the end of the night she offered to drive everybody home so that Camille and Peter wouldn’t have to ride their bikes in the dark and Travis wouldn’t have to walk. I was sure Peter and Cam would be over in the morning and they could just get their bikes then.

  Mom and I stayed up late talking that night—girl to girl and woman to woman. It was nice. It had never happened before. I ended up admitting to her that I liked Peter, and she sincerely told me she hoped it worked out for me because she liked Peter, too. I fell asleep happy that night.