Troubled waters, p.26
Troubled Waters, page 26
Macey smiled warmly at him, then glanced down at herself. “I don’t know. Just look at me. I look like a mud wrestler.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I see what you mean.” He handed her a fresh towel. “Maybe this will help.”
“I doubt it, but thanks,” Macey said as she scrubbed at her face with the towel. “Well, if you can stand looking at this dirty mug for a while longer, I’d love some hot soup.”
He winked at her. “How fast can you eat?”
———
Noah offered Macey the leather chair while he took the couch. They each had a soup cup filled with the steaming tomato variety. With each spoonful, a wave of warmth crossed her heart, though she wasn’t totally sure it was all because of the soup. She and Noah traded smiles as they ate.
Finally Noah spoke up, saying, “That was pretty intense.” Macey cocked an eyebrow. “I mean your story.” He set his cup down. The spoon rattled inside of it, indicating it was empty. “That must’ve been a very hard thing for you to share.” Macey’s eyes darted in embarrassment, and her hand crawled up to her face and hid her eyes. “I’m proud of you,” Noah continued, and Macey peeked at him through her fingers. “You’re very brave.”
A short tight laugh emitted from her mouth. “Brave? Hardly.” She shook her head and all but lost her appetite for the soup. “It’s just such a mess—that’s what it is. A horrible, painful mess. And it always will be.” Macey sunk into the leather chair.
“I’m sorry it happened,” said Noah. “But it explains a lot.” He shrugged. “Or at least a little.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s always been a little bit of talk, you know,” he said carefully. “Good-hearted small-town talk. Your father never spoke about it, but I knew him well enough to see the sadness in his eyes. The same sadness I saw in yours the first time I met you.”
“Did he ever talk about me?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I know he always cared for you and thought of you often.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Macey said.
“I knew your father well,” Noah insisted. “I had coffee with him twice a week. He and your mom have been like grandparents to my girls. He was a good friend. A kind man.”
Macey tried not to glare at Noah. “Really? So it must be hard for you to imagine him doing those things, saying those things.”
“A little. I know he was a very upright man. A very godly man. So it doesn’t surprise me that he reacted to your news with . . . disappointment.”
“Disappointment? You call that disappointment? It was rage in its purest form. He hated my guts, Noah. I’m sure the only reason pictures of me are still around in the house was so my mother wouldn’t die of a broken heart. As far as I can tell, the day I left, he never spoke of me again. It was like I never existed. He shunned me and never looked back.”
“Is that what you think? Your father hated you all these years? Really hated you?”
“What else should I think? That he was just a little too busy to come find me? That he was too embarrassed to apologize? I told him I was sorry. I asked for his forgiveness. He never gave it to me.”
Macey noticed that Noah was looking down at the carpet, his eyes distant with a private thought. She wanted to go on, continue to vent her frustration over her father, but something quieted her. It was the look on Noah’s face.
“It’s sad,” he stated, his voice struggling. “It’s sad that you two had to end this way.”
“It’s not my fault,” Macey said, her voice equally as strained. “I was young; I made a mistake. He wasn’t willing to forgive me. What else could I do.” It was a statement, not a question, and she eyed Noah, daring him to challenge her logic.
His lips pressed together, and again his eyes became distant. This time Macey’s patience was growing thin. What was his hesitation? It wasn’t as if he’d made it a habit of protecting her emotions.
“If you’ve got something to say . . .” Macey met his eyes.
Noah cleared his throat and nodded. The light in the room bounced off his eyes in a way it hadn’t just moments ago, and Macey realized she was seeing tears. What could be upsetting him like this? She squeezed her hands together and tried to wait for his timing.
“I had always wondered,” he began softly, “what your father was doing. I guess I never put it together, and he wasn’t the type of man who invited personal questions. He liked to talk about the weather, agriculture, and the church. And occasionally his coffee.” Noah smiled through his tears. “But every single Thanksgiving and Christmas, your father would—” Noah stopped and sighed heavily—“he would go to the bus station. And wait. For several days prior to and on the actual holiday, there he was at the bus station. People would see him, you know, just sitting there, that favorite old hat of his in his lap, just . . . waiting.”
Macey’s hands fell open, palms up, and her eyebrows rose. “Waiting for what?”
He looked directly into her eyes. “Waiting for you.”
She heard the words yet didn’t understand them. She stared hard at Noah, waiting for an explanation.
“I guess he never really expected you to step off that bus. I know he didn’t.” Noah paused. “Maybe it was some weird way of punishing himself. I don’t know.”
Chimes outside alerted her to the fact that the rain had stopped and a soft breeze had replaced it. She hadn’t even known Noah had chimes, but they echoed a haunting melody as the last bit of daylight filtered through the windows. The storm had finally blown on through.
“The rain’s let up,” she said as she stood. She set her unfinished cup of soup next to her on the table. “Thanks for the soup.”
She started toward the door, but Noah jumped up and took her arm. “This is a lot to process, I know. But don’t let it go without taking it to heart. It means something.”
Macey looked up at him. “Maybe it meant something once. It doesn’t mean anything now. He’s dead. And I never arrived home on that bus, did I?” Noah’s eyes flashed disappointment, and he let go of her arm. She continued to the front door, where she turned and said, “Thanks again for the soup.” She started to leave the house, but not before adding, “And for listening.”
A small smile lingered on Noah’s lips, and then Macey left, shutting the door behind her.
———
Still barefoot, she walked slowly back over the bridge while enjoying the cooler temperatures the storm had ushered in rather dramatically. Grime and dirt plastered her body, but for some odd reason she felt clean. Clean and also confused. A little less tormented, though more aggravated now, more unfocused. Could it be that Noah had made up the bus-station story? That seemed more plausible than imagining her father sitting there every Christmas and Thanksgiving for seventeen years, no matter what his motivations were.
From where she stood on the bridge she could see that her mother was still awake, for the windows of the house glowed warmly in the impending darkness. This would be her last night here. She was thankful, but sad. So many questions left unanswered. Maybe it was better that way. The more she discovered, the crazier everything became. Wouldn’t her life be better back in Dallas?
She watched as the water rushed under the bridge. The rain had swelled the river, increasing the current’s power. Tomorrow’s heat would lower it again. But for now, it was majestic and healthy. Then she saw it.
Down by the sharp and jagged rocks on the bank nearest her, a white muddied box, opened and wet, lay embedded in thick mud. From where she was standing, she could make out the gown’s sleeve, almost looking as if it were reaching up toward her. She took several steps back and closed her eyes.
“You’ll want to keep this for your own child someday, won’t you?”
Macey turned and finished crossing the bridge, never looking back at the little box and gown.
Twenty-Five
At first she thought the wind was blowing the back screen—for four years Jess had promised to fix the latch yet never got around to it—but then she heard footsteps and knew Macey was finally back home. Evelyn greeted her.
“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, looking her daughter up and down. “What happened to you? Are you okay?” She reached out to touch Macey’s face, but her daughter withdrew, though still offered a smile.
“I’m fine, Mom. Just got caught out in the rain.”
Evelyn escorted her through the kitchen and into the living room, where Perry Como was singing “Rock of Ages” by way of a dusty old record she’d found earlier that evening. Her daughter glanced in the direction of the music.
“If you’ll change out of those clothes, I’ll put them in the wash. This mud out here can stain like the dickens.”
“Okay,” Macey said. She looked tired.
Macey climbed the stairs to go change, while Evelyn waited patiently downstairs, preparing a pot of bedtime tea. The water rumbled through the pipes, and Evelyn assumed she’d decided to take a shower.
On the dining room table Evelyn smoothed out the fabrics and tried to position herself in the light to get a good idea of the color. She’d never looked terrific in pink, but for summer she thought a nice pink floral pattern might do nicely anyway. Only fifteen minutes had passed when she saw Macey again, slowly descending the stairs, her hair wet and combed away from her face, a bunch of clothes under her left arm.
Evelyn met her at the landing. “Here, let me take those. I’ll get ’em in the wash and have ’em dried by the time you leave.” She looked at her daughter and tried to ask casually, “Tomorrow morning, right?” Macey nodded. “Don’t you worry, these stains will come out. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” Her daughter nodded again but appeared as if she hadn’t heard a word. Evelyn made her way out to the laundry room in the garage and started the wash. A side-by-side washer and dryer were two of her biggest luxuries. They’d purchased the set seven years ago, although she still preferred to dry her towels and sheets out on the line.
She found Macey in the kitchen, pouring tea. “Where’s the honey?” she asked.
Evelyn went to the pantry and found the jar. “This is from Tex Bartlett. He’s got a bee farm up the way, and you’ve never tasted honey like this. He sells it all over the country now. He’s always given us enough at Christmas to last us the whole year round.”
Macey added a little of Tex’s honey in her tea, stirring and thinking some faraway thought as if she were the only one in the room. Evelyn stood nearby in silence, her own thoughts disengaging her for the moment. This was it. Her last night with Macey. She had to say something. She had to mention it. She owed at least that much to her daughter, didn’t she?
Her daughter turned, and Evelyn lost her train of thought. “I have something to show you,” she said, and her daughter followed her into the dining room. Evelyn swept her hand in the direction of the table. Macey walked over to it, her expression puzzled.
“Fabric?” Macey asked.
Evelyn smiled. “I’m sewing myself some business suits,” she said, lifting the floral print for Macey to see better. “Just a couple. Enough to get me by until I can make more. It’ll be tough, but I think I can do it by Friday. I once sewed a bridesmaid’s dress in an afternoon when the bride’s uncle dropped a cigarette on it and burned it to ashes. But that was in desperation, and I’m not sure I could do it again. I’m not the fastest draw on the sewing machine.”
Macey walked around the table, looking at the different fabrics while sipping her tea. She looked so tired. Evelyn watched as she didn’t even make it all the way around, but ended up collapsing into a chair and staring into space.
“Which ones do you like?” Evelyn asked.
“They’re all nice. I like the floral, though.” She said it while staring at another pattern, and Evelyn realized her daughter’s mind was heavy with thought.
“I’ve been working hard on the computer, too,” Evelyn said. “I’m faxing, I’m printing, I’m saving. I worked on it all evening. How’s the tea?”
“Perfect.” Macey looked into her cup. “Thanks for working so hard on all this, Mom. You’ve been a real trooper.”
“I suppose I needed to learn all this a long time ago.”
“No. No, you didn’t. And I’m sorry that you had to now. All this . . . it changes a person.” She glanced over to where the computer sat on the table. “It’s a relief to know there are actually people alive still who live at a normal pace, whose lives aren’t dictated by a machine.” She sighed and sipped her tea. “Anyway, enough of that.”
Evelyn pushed at her cuticles as she said, “What time do you leave tomorrow?”
“11:04.”
“Well, I’ll get up early and make you a nice breakfast.”
Macey smiled. “I’d appreciate that.”
Perry Como’s soothing voice was now singing “Amazing Grace.” It was the only sound filling the room, muffled only by the corner wall that stood between the dining area and the living room.
“How’s Noah?”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
Evelyn stood and fussed over the fabric. “I don’t know how good I’ll look in a double-breasted blazer. I guess I’ll find out. I’m going to lengthen the skirt to below my knees. That’s only appropriate for a woman my age.”
“You’ll look terrific,” Macey said absently.
“Had two chickens die today. The heat. Just keeled over.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No big thing. We usually lose four or five before the summer’s over.”
Macey nodded. Evelyn’s heart fell to her stomach when Macey stretched her arms over her head and stood.
“I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I’m flying straight to New York. I better get to bed.”
“Wait . . .”
Macey turned and looked at her. “What?”
Evelyn swallowed hard. She had to say something. “Macey,” she began, her voice croaking in her throat. “I can’t let you leave without . . . without . . .”
Macey leaned forward as if to help pull the words out of Evelyn’s mouth. “Yes?”
“. . . without, um . . .”
“Without what?”
Evelyn’s chest cramped with fear. “Without giving you my blackberry cobbler recipe.”
“Your blackberry cobbler recipe?”
Evelyn stared at the carpet. How could she be such a coward? She glanced up and their eyes met. Her heart pounded in her chest as she attempted it again. “No, not just that.”
“Mom, I appreciate it, but I’m not much of a cook. I probably wouldn’t use it.”
“Wait,” Evelyn said again. Macey had started toward the stairs. “There’s something else.”
Macey stood, one hand on the rail, waiting for Evelyn to speak.
“Honey, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I should’ve called. I should’ve come to see you. I made a lot of mistakes.” She couldn’t help but hang her head as she spoke. It shamed her to think she’d let so many years pass with so little contact between them. Tears rolled down her face, and she tried wiping them away, but they were immediately replaced by more so she gave up and focused on what she wanted to say. There was so much to say. Her thoughts were jumbled. As she worked on sorting through each one, to say what needed to be said in a way that made sense, her daughter cleared her throat.
“You’re not the one who made the mistakes, Mom,” her daughter told her. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” She then turned and hurried up the stairs, never looking back, quietly shutting the bedroom door behind her.
Evelyn was shaking so terribly she had to sit down. She lowered herself onto the bench near the entryway and stared at the empty staircase. The house was perfectly silent now, except for the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the old grandfather clock that sat in the corner of the entryway. The tears kept flowing, and with the silence came more.
Tomorrow would be the first day she would be completely alone. She hadn’t said an ounce of what she’d wanted to say to her daughter, and now the opportunity was lost.
An hour went by as Evelyn sat on the bench. Complete darkness had set in, and as she listened more carefully, she could hear the familiar melody of the katydids outside the house.
She didn’t have the strength to pray. What else could she say? There was no time left for miracles. If only her own time could run out as quickly. She glanced up at the grandfather clock, the numbers blurry without her glasses. She wondered how many times the hands would have to go around before time would stop for her.
Twenty-Six
Now listen carefully, Mom,” Macey said, talking between bites of eggs, toast, and cantaloupe. “You just be yourself. You’re charming, nice, and personable, and that will go a long way in helping you to get this job.”
Her mother sat across from her. She nodded and blinked through puffy eyes. Normally she was chipper in the morning, but this day there was a heaviness that Macey noticed.
After gulping down half a cup of coffee, Macey continued. Her eyes were puffy, too, although there was nothing new to her feeling exhausted. It was an everyday occurrence. “The woman there seemed very eager to help you out, and I hardly think there’s a chance you can go wrong.” That was practically a lie, but Macey knew if her mother didn’t feel confident, she didn’t have any chance at all. “I’ve written down all the information you’ll need to know on that piece of paper. Make sure to arrive early, okay? I know you drive a little slow so leave in plenty of time. I’ve drawn you a map, but you know where it is, so I’m not worried about that. Downplay your weaknesses, okay? Don’t tell them anything they don’t ask. Emphasize all the things you do well, and make sure not to mention you just learned how to use a computer this week.”
