Troubled waters, p.6
Troubled Waters, page 6
“Who could forget?”
“It was the craziest thing. They were out huntin’ quail, and for some reason Becker’s gun, which was lying in the bed of the pickup truck, just went off and kept shootin’! It was ricocheting off the pickup and sending the men flyin’ for cover.” Patricia was laughing hard. “Bobby Sunchen said Dale Jessett peed in his pants, but Dale swears that didn’t happen. ’Course, Dale swears Bobby was crying like a baby, so they probably both just made up stories on each other. It was still funny, though.”
“Did anyone get hurt?” Macey asked.
“Buck Stanley took some buckshot in the hand, and poor Pete got his kneecap blown off. But it coulda been a lot worse.” Patricia shook her head. “That all happened before I moved to Parsons. But I swear, people all over these parts know that story.”
Macey laughed, then looked at Evelyn. “More coffee, Mom?”
“Thank you,” Evelyn said. Suddenly she realized everything was packed. She went to the closet and saw it was empty of all his things. The sight was like an illusion, and her mind wasn’t comprehending it. A gentle hand patted her shoulder—Patricia’s. It had done that a lot lately.
“I better get to bed. It’s been a long day.” Macey stood on the other end of the room, pouring Evelyn’s coffee. “Here you go. I’ll set it on your dresser.”
Evelyn left the closet. “The covers are pulled back for you. Fresh towels are on the end. And I left a glass of water on the nightstand, because you used to like that.”
Macey walked to the large bedroom window. “This is a big storm. Are you sure we shouldn’t have the TV on? Just to see how bad this is supposed to get?”
Evelyn joined her at the window. “The reception is no good during storms anyway. It’d only be static.” She touched her fingers to the pane. “Have you lost all your instincts?”
Macey laughed a little. “Instincts?”
“Sure. Don’t you remember what your dad taught you? You both used to be able to predict weather as good as those weathermen, and without all the fancy equipment.”
Her daughter turned to look outside. “The rain isn’t going sideways.”
Evelyn smiled and hugged her from the side. “See? It’s like riding a bike.” She left the window and picked up her coffee mug. “No. This one isn’t going to be too bad. Just noisy.”
Patricia gathered her things. “Well, I best be going.”
Evelyn looked at her. “What? It’s pouring rain out there! Why not stay the night? Your room is still there for you.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve driven in a rainstorm or two.”
“But it’s a forty-five minute drive.”
“Evelyn,” Patricia lectured, “it’s time you start taking care of yourself. Not everyone else. I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral. You need to get plenty of rest.” Patricia hugged her and then proceeded down the stairs. After a few seconds they heard the front door open and close.
Macey said good-night, told her mom they could move the boxes in the morning, and went to her old room, quietly shutting the door.
Evelyn was left alone, only the sound of the thumping rain to fill her ears. She shuffled back downstairs to wash out the coffeepot and caught her reflection in the bay window. She hadn’t done much looking at herself in the past few years. There in front of her stood an old woman. She pulled on a curl or two of her hair, all of it gray now. She’d stopped coloring it some years ago when she was spending so much money trying to keep up. And then there was the whole cancer scare about hair dye.
The window distorted her image, and she wasn’t sure if her dress was wrinkled or not. She tried to smooth it out. What in the world would she wear tomorrow? She didn’t own a thing in black. None of her old church dresses fit her anymore. Maybe she could wear the blue dress with lace she’d made a few years ago. Jess liked it. Maybe Macey would help her with her makeup. With all the talking going on this evening, she’d forgotten to remind Patricia about her hair and nails.
A bolt of lightning brightened the room for a second, followed by a clap of thunder that shook the china. Evelyn moved from the window, tired of staring at the image in front of her. With all the humidity, there wasn’t going to be too much anyone could do with her hair anyway.
She thought about going to the kitchen and finishing up the dishes, but instead she sat down on the sofa and let the rain soothe her. She imagined Jess in front of the TV, banging on the side of the old box, trying to get a picture to come through. And just like she always did, she’d tell him it was useless and that he might try picking up a book once in a while. He’d keep banging and she’d go make sure some meat was thawed out for the next evening’s supper.
Instead, here she was, sitting alone, listening to a storm pass on through.
She could hear Macey upstairs getting ready for bed and thought about going up to see if she could get her anything, but she decided against it. She could see the pain in her daughter’s eyes. She could see she didn’t want to be here.
Her heart sank. She wondered again if she had done the right thing with the letter. Could things be different now? Maybe her daughter would want to stay longer. Maybe they could talk about the past.
She shook her head and squeezed the pillow on her lap. She knew it wasn’t best left alone. Just like back then, though, she didn’t know what to do now. Her own fear of confrontation might keep her daughter away for seventeen more years, and Evelyn doubted she had that much time left.
Upstairs, the noises stopped, and Evelyn guessed Macey had finally turned in. Now the house was quiet. Even the storm was dying down, only a light rain misting the windows.
She took a deep breath and looked around. This was how the rest of her life would be. Quiet and lonely.
Six
Macey was used to getting up early, and this morning was no exception. The sun coming in her window woke her before 6:30. She washed her face, gazing at puffy eyes and blotchy skin. She’d slept hard.
As she opened her bedroom window, a light morning breeze pushed the lace curtains to the side. The fields of wheat, still wet from the night’s storm, glistened in the early morning sun.
Today was her father’s funeral. Why was she here? What had made her return home? Her mom had Patricia for support and all her friends at the church. It had been so strange how she’d willed herself not to come home, yet here she was, standing in the same bedroom in which she’d packed her suitcase seventeen years before.
She stretched her arms far above her head, then slowly touched her toes, a technique she’d learned when she was in her yoga phase. She’d become more limber but certainly never found any inner peace. These days she did kickboxing. Again, no inner peace, although it sure felt good punching things.
She pulled on her running shorts and tied her shoes. She’d have to get her exercise before it got too hot. She’d probably run up north, see if anything had changed. Doubtful. It hadn’t changed in the eighteen years she lived here. And no one expected it to change for another hundred years. There was always the possibility of a flood, but sometimes even that didn’t work.
Downstairs, her mother stood at the stove, never hearing her come down. Macey cleared her throat and she turned around.
“Good morning! Hope you’re hungry!”
She was, and she quickly glanced at the table, hoping to find something that wouldn’t sit heavy in her stomach.
Evelyn rushed to the table. “Now, listen. We’ve got sausage and bacon. I know, I know. But there’s also fresh strawberries and some cream. Right now I’m whipping up some pancakes. You do eat pancakes, don’t you?”
Macey pulled the strawberries closer to herself. “Mom, you don’t need to make a big breakfast. You shouldn’t even be cooking. This is a hard day for you.”
Evelyn lifted a pitcher of orange juice. “Freshly squeezed. No sugar added.”
“Thank you,” Macey said. “And, Mom, I’ll eat a couple of pancakes if you make them.”
Evelyn grinned and turned on the griddle. She brought over a basket of biscuits and some gravy. “Just thought you might like some biscuits and gravy. We had quite a bit of gravy left over last night. Biscuits aren’t going to kill you, are they?”
Macey smiled and took a biscuit, thankful for the peach preserves sitting on the table. Evelyn went back to the griddle and poured out the batter. “Honey, you can borrow a dress of mine if you’d like. I have several that don’t fit me anymore. They might be a little big on you, but no one would notice.”
Macey looked down at herself, then chuckled. “I brought a dress. This is what I run in. I thought I’d run up north, see what’s going on.”
Evelyn flipped a pancake. “Oh, you should! Benny Trailor just built himself a new tractor store. It’s bringing in business from miles around! And the old feed store’s still there. Lester’s granddaughter runs it now. She’s always been good with numbers so she does his books, too.”
Another pancake sizzled after being flipped, and the smell of homemade pancakes made Macey’s stomach grumble with anticipation. The strawberries melted in her mouth. Macey mused at the fact that her mother talked of these people as if Macey hadn’t been gone for all those years. The fact was, she hardly remembered anyone.
Her mother offered her a bowl of blueberries and a banana, then brought over the pancakes. Macey spooned a few blueberries on top of a pancake and started cutting up the banana, eager to dig in. “Mom, aren’t you going to eat?”
“You don’t worry about me,” Evelyn said, pouring more batter onto the griddle. “I’m not going to waste away.”
It had been a long time since she’d had someone fix her breakfast like this, a long time since she’d had anyone to eat breakfast with. She sat up straight and held her fork properly. All these years of singleness had wreaked havoc on her manners. Half the time she didn’t even use a napkin. She looked at the one sitting next to her plate and picked it up, gently placing it on her lap before starting in on the feast. Her stomach was accustomed to an everything bagel with no-fat cream cheese. She hoped she could run with this much food in her stomach.
Finally her mom joined her at the table. She sighed heavily as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. She then put a biscuit on her plate and spread gravy over it, but did nothing more than stare at it.
“How about some strawberries, Mom?” Macey pushed the bowl toward her. But Evelyn waved a hand at it, her bright blue eyes hazy with tears.
“I’d never really imagined Jess would go first.” Evelyn filled another orange juice glass to the top, though she hadn’t even taken a sip out of the first she’d poured. She glanced up at Macey. “You think about these things when you get older. Who’ll go first. I always thought it’d be me. Maybe I just always hoped.” Her fork scooped up the gravy around the biscuit and put it on top. “It’s unfair to love someone for all these years and then have to live without them. It’s a cruel thing . . . real cruel.”
Macey’s hunger subsided, and she set her fork down. She didn’t know what to say. She had no idea how to comfort her mom. All the contempt she felt for her father made it particularly hard. She knew her mother grieved. She knew she should be grieving, too. But she wasn’t. At least not the way her mom was.
“I’m glad you have Patricia,” Macey said after a bit, and Evelyn agreed with a brave smile. “She’s quite a fireball.”
“Yep. Good woman, that Patricia.” But this was all that was said, and Macey’s head pounded with stress. Finally Evelyn looked up and said, “You better go on that run of yours. We don’t have much time. I’d like to get there by nine so I have time to say one last good-bye.”
Macey swallowed. She’d hoped to arrive a few minutes late so she could slip in the back unnoticed. Of course her mom expected them to ride together, and she couldn’t let her own mother drive to the church by herself to bury her husband.
“I’ll be back in plenty of time,” Macey assured her, then downed the last of her orange juice.
Evelyn wiped a few tears from her cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re here. I couldn’t imagine doing this without you. I hope you can stay awhile.”
Macey smiled but said nothing. She opened the front door by giving it a little tug to get it unstuck. Outside, the morning air was still fresh and remarkably still. She could hear her mom following behind until she too had come out the front door.
“At least it’s a beautiful day,” Evelyn mused. “It would be terrible to have it pourin’ down rain.”
Macey agreed and bent down, stretching her back muscles and hamstrings, and then stood back up, reached around, and grabbed an ankle to stretch out her thigh. “I miss this air,” she said, rolling her head from side to side. “It’s so fresh here and easy to breathe.”
Evelyn took a few more steps out onto the front porch, pulling her old tattered robe closed. “I suppose I just take it for granted. I’ve never known nothing else.” Evelyn looked west. “I was born in a farmhouse two miles up the road. They tore it down about four years ago. We had a storm come through. But nobody’d been livin’ there for twenty years. I think maybe Jed Burnhill used it to store his hay.”
Macey knew the house well. She thought it was funny how her mom would tell her the story nearly every time they passed it when she was a child, as if she’d never mentioned it before. Not too many things change. Macey dropped her heels off the edge of the step to stretch her calves.
“Your flowers are beautiful, Mom,” Macey said, pointing to the three flower beds along the walls of the house. “I’ve never had much of a green thumb.”
Evelyn started laughing. Macey smiled a little, not knowing what was so funny, but her mom was now laughing so hard she was turning red in the face, her eyes tearing faster than she could wipe them. “What a hoot!”
Macey laughed. “What?”
Evelyn turned to one of the flower beds and pointed to it. “They’re all fake!”
Macey looked down. “Fake?”
“Silk flowers I bought at Marie’s Craft Store.” She took a step down, still laughing. “Your father was always such a stickler about having flowers planted every year. But this last year when he got so sick, I just couldn’t keep up with the gardening and taking care of him. So I planted these!”
“Are you serious? They look so real!”
Evelyn nodded and laughed some more. “I pulled the whole thing off like a regular scam artist! I even stood out here and watered them, waving at your father while he sat up there in the wheelchair looking out from the window. I suppose I’m going to have to pull them out before winter or the whole town’s gonna know my secret!” Evelyn roared with laughter again, hanging on to the railing. “He even commented that he’d never seen our flowers look so beautiful.”
Macey laughed again, getting more of a kick out of watching her mom laugh about it. The laughter finally died down, and Macey did one more stretch. “Well, I better go run. Be back soon.”
Evelyn said good-bye as Macey took off down the driveway and onto the road that ran in front of their house. She headed north, waving to her mom, who still stood in the doorway watching her. Her mom’s pleasant smile and beautiful laugh filled her mind. How could she do anything but cry on a day like this? Her mom’s strength amazed her.
As the sun rose higher in the eastern sky, it warmed the air and left Macey’s back damp as she tackled the steep hill before her. This certainly beat running the track at the fitness center or twenty blocks of sidewalk downtown. Picture perfect trees towered above her, their long limbs stretching across the road toward one another, almost sheltering her from the low sun. All this beauty, yet so much darkness.
She would stay the weekend, but that was it. Monday morning she would be gone.
———
Evelyn kept busy by cleaning up the dishes from breakfast, the whole time scolding herself for fixing too much food. She always fixed too much. She poured all the fruit into one bowl, wrapped up the biscuits, dumped the leftover pancakes into the trash, and wiped the table clean. It was almost seven-thirty and she hadn’t done a thing to get ready. She didn’t want to. And she still didn’t know what she would wear.
Evelyn scrubbed the dishes and dried them until they sparkled, so consumed by her washing that she didn’t hear Patricia come in. Her presence was soon revealed, however, when she knocked over a chair, startling Evelyn half to death.
“Sorry, sorry!” she chimed. She carried three plastic grocery bags that hung from her arms. “Evelyn Steigel, just what do you think you’re doing?”
Evelyn smiled, setting down the dishes to help Patricia with her load. “I didn’t hear you come in. Guess I had the water running.”
They put the bags on the table. “You’re not even dressed!” Patricia poured the contents of one of the bags onto the kitchen table. Evelyn picked up nail polish, lipstick, and curlers. She looked at Patricia. “Bet you thought I’d forgotten, didn’t ya?” Patricia said as she organized the mess on the table. “I thought you might’ve enjoyed conversing with your daughter more than curling your hair last night. I figured I could come over early this morning and fix you all up.”
Evelyn sat down at the table, tired already, and the day had hardly begun. “Thank you, Patricia. I’m so glad you came.”
“Where’s Macey?” Patricia had already spun Evelyn around and was picking at her hair.
“Went out for a run.”
“Now, I thought we’d use the number three curlers. You know that always gives you a lift. We might try a little rouge today, too. I know you ain’t keen on color, but I think you’re going to need some rose in them cheeks of yours.”
Evelyn sat still in the chair, her hands lifeless on her lap. “Whatever you want.”
