Interrupted (3 page)

I looked up to see Sam staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re awful pretty, Allie,” Sam whispered.

I gave him a little smile, feeling too charitable at the moment to be annoyed. “Good-bye, Sam,” I said instead. “And thank you for the help with the pansies. They don’t look as bad as I thought they would … you know, with you helping and all.” I cleared my throat.

Sam jumped off the counter and shook my hand with his good one before walking out the door. “Good-bye, Allie.”

I rolled my eyes before going back out to the garden.

I opened my notebook and smoothed down the fresh page. Even without looking up, I could tell Mama was watching me from her seat in the armchair.

“What are you writing?”

I looked up, surprised by the coldness of Mama’s tone. She was glowering at me, the light extinguished in her blue eyes.

“Nothing, Mama.” I lifted the journal so she could see. “I’m just writing in my diary.”

Mama wrapped her favorite blanket around her tightly and pursed her lips. “What are you writing about?” Her voice began to grow tense. “Are you writing about me, Allie? What are you saying about me?”

“Mama, calm down.” I reached out a hand toward her. Her eyes widened as she flinched away. My hand suddenly felt cold and empty, suspended in the air. I clenched my fist and let it drop.

I read aloud what I had written. But by the time I lifted my head, Mama was staring at the clock on the wall, her face expressionless.

“Allie?” she asked after a few moments.

“Yes?”

“Can we go on a picnic tomorrow? Invite that boy, Sam. Tell him to go on a picnic with us tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mama.” I looked down.

Mama stared at me. “Call him now. He might forget.”

I sighed and reached for the telephone on the table.
This is going to be embarrassing
.

Sam answered. “Hello?”

I fidgeted with my skirt. “Um, hello. This is Allie Everly.”

There was a pause. And then, “Oh, hi, Allie!”

My face reddened. Thank heavens he couldn’t see
that
over the telephone. “Mama wanted me to call and invite you on a picnic tomorrow. By the pond, I guess. She’s packing a lunch and everything.”

“That sounds like fun.” Sam’s voice grew excited. “What time are you having it?”

I glanced at Mama, who had fallen back asleep. “Probably at noon.”

“Great!” There was an awkward silence. “Okay. See you tomorrow, Allie.”

The line clicked dead. I sighed and placed the telephone back on the retriever. Mama snored lightly from the sofa.
She looks …

I gulped down the liquid in my throat and glanced back down at the journal page. A tear escaped my eye and smeared a fresh stroke of ink. I groaned and blew on the page.

Oh, I’m just so happy! We’re both just so happy in the summer!

I closed the notebook with a slam and left to do the dishes.

The water felt deliciously cold, licking my bare toes. I smiled and let my foot make little swirls across the surface of the lake.

I paused and tapped my pen to my mouth.
What’s a descriptive word for love?
I racked my brain.
Adoration … affection … fondness … devotion …

I smiled and began scribbling in my notebook again.
Devotion
.

My hand began to cramp. That was always a sign that it was time to stop for the day.

I massaged my fingers and read over the poem. “Mama.”

It was the perfect description of her. I smiled and lifted my toes out of the water, hugging them to my chest.
She’d love to hear it
.

“Allie!” Mama called. “Sam’s here!”

Raising myself off the little wooden dock, I scooped up my journal and shoes. Beside me, Daphne purred and stretched out. I laughed and nudged her with my foot. “Come on, lazy-head.”

I walked back through the apple grove, struggling to carry my things. Bending under a twisted branch, I smiled at the twosome sitting on a little blanket.

“Hello.” Sam’s grin seemed to stretch forever. His dark hair was mussed and there were dirt stains on his trousers. I wondered if he’d been working outside.

“I packed a lunch,” Mama said, motioning to a basket. It was her tradition. She always packed the lunch, and I never interfered. Never.

I picked up a jar. “Is that why you brought homemade relish?”

Mama nodded and smoothed out her dress. Her blue eyes looked so hopeful and expectant.

I sighed and sat on the blanket. “Very well. We’ll eat what Mama packed.” I opened the basket and looked inside.
Mayonnaise … jelly … pickled onions … canned peaches …

“Mama, did you bring any bread?”

Mama shook her head, blinking.

I cursed myself.
I should have known she couldn’t pack lunch by herself. She can’t do anything by herself
. I forced a smile. “Oh, well.” I pulled out the jar of peaches. “We’ll feast on peaches and pickled onions. That is, if you don’t mind, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “I love canned peaches.”

I screwed open the lid and pulled out a slippery peach. Mama reached out and devoured it in a single gulp. I frowned. “Be careful not to choke.”

I pulled out a peach for myself. Sticky sweetness slid down my throat. I licked my lips. “Yummy. We sure did a good job on these.”

Mama smiled softly. “Yes, we did. David always says I don’t cut the peaches small enough, but he doesn’t know anything.” Her brow creased. “Allie, did I cut the peaches small enough?”

You didn’t cut them at all. I did
. I cleared my throat and glanced at Sam. He was studying Mama, his brow furrowing. “Yes, you cut them small enough,” I answered.

Mama nodded and placed her hands in her lap. “David was going to join us, but I couldn’t find him in the study.” She frowned at me. “When I can’t find him, it’s always because he’s in the study.”

What in the world is she talking about?
I put down the jar of peaches and gently touched Mama’s wrist. “Daddy isn’t here anymore, remember?” My voice lowered. “He left six years ago.”

“Oh.” Mama smiled. “Well, I don’t care, because I know I cut the peaches small enough!”

I patted her wrist. “Yes, and they’re very good.”

Sam nodded. “Best peaches I’ve ever had!” He wiped juice off his cheek and shone that ridiculous grin at me.

I reached into the picnic basket for the jar of pickled onions. “Onion?”

Mama didn’t answer.

I looked up to find her staring in stony silence at the water. “Mama? What’s wrong?”

She glanced at me. “I refuse to eat with a stranger staring at me.”

“What are you —” I sighed. “No one’s staring at you.”

Mama raised a dark eyebrow and glanced at a duck sitting on the glassy pond. I rolled my eyes. “A duck?”

“It’s watching us, Allie.” Mama folded her hands. “It’s waiting.” She shivered. “I won’t eat while it’s staring at me.”

I sighed and put down the jar of onions, climbing to my feet. My heartbeat fluttered as I glanced at Sam. He clambered up and brushed off his pants. “I’ll help you wrangle the duck.”

I glared at him. “Thank you ever so much.”

With one last glance at Mama, I grabbed my shoes and trudged across the orchard.

The duck stared at us in silence as it glided across the surface of the lake. “Go. Shoo.” I waved at it.
This is ridiculous
.

Sam snorted. “Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!” He began waving his arms above his head and jumping about. “Shoo!”

The duck continued to stare at us, unfazed.

I looked back at Mama. She watched me, her hands in her lap. The duck obviously had to go.

I dropped my shoes on the dock.
Here goes
. I lifted a foot and cautiously placed it in the water, squeezing my eyes shut.
How am I going to get the duck if I can’t swim?

I peeked an eye open and lowered my voice. “Please go before she throws a fit.”
Great. Now I’m talking to a duck
. I bit my lip. “It’s for your own good, I promise you.”

The duck stared at me and swam around in smooth circles.
Is it mocking me?

My face began to grow hot. I reached an arm out and pushed at the bird, attempting to physically shove it away.

The duck jumped up and flapped its wings in a fury, honking loudly as it advanced in our direction. I screamed and in my panic hurled myself backward, landing in the water. I yelled again as the ice-cold water seeped through my thin dress.

Sam was hollering, half from fear and half from laughter. “Run, Allie! Run!”

I scrambled to my feet and took off behind Sam. The duck followed, his feathers ruffling.

The apple orchard had never seemed so immense. I ran through the trees, looking over my shoulder. The duck had finally stopped and was strutting around the pond, the obvious victor.

I collapsed on the picnic blanket and wrung out my soaking skirt.
Darned fowl
.

“Mama, the duck can’t go. I … uh …” I licked my lips. “I spoke to it and it …”

Mama blinked, smiling at me.

My shoulders slumped. “Never mind.”
I guess I won’t have to worry about duck-filled dreams tonight
.

Sam was snorting in laughter, grabbing his stomach. “That was … that was priceless! The look on your face! You were talking to a duck!” He rolled onto his back. “Oh, this is so nice.” He sighed, a satisfied look spreading across his face.

“Glad you think so,” I muttered. I sat back and looked around the orchard. The ripening apples swung from the trees, wobbling in the wind.

“Allie, are those your shoes?”

I followed Mama’s glance and saw my shoes still sitting on the dock. I sighed. “Yes.” Focusing on Mama, I stood and took a step back. “Stay right here on the blanket. I’ll only be a minute.”

I ran down the hill to the lake and scooped my shoes off the dock. The duck was still gliding across the water, staring at me blankly. I rolled my eyes. “Stupid duck.” I stood back and watched it take off in flight.

Sighing, I turned and trudged back up toward the picnic blanket. I squinted at the sun. It was getting late. I paused. The picnic blanket was empty. Mama wasn’t there.

“Allie!” Sam shouted.

I dropped my shoes. My heart began to race. I whipped around and scanned the orchard. “Where are you?”

Someone sneezed. I ran in the direction of the sound, my shoulders dropping once I approached the source.
Mama
.

She was perched in a tree, reaching for an unripe apple. She looked down and brightened. “Oh, Allie. Can you help me reach this apple?”

I ran up beside Sam and stood at the base of the tree, grabbing one of Mama’s dangling legs. “Come down from there,” I said calmly, although my pulse was throbbing. “Climbing trees isn’t safe, remember?”

Mama licked her lips, looking panicked. “I … I can’t.”

“What do you mean?” I forced my voice to sound light and teasing. “You got up there, didn’t you?”

She began to mumble to herself about being dizzy. She swayed, reaching out to grab the trunk for support. “Allie … my head. It feels …” Her voice was slurred.

I took a shaky breath and began to climb the tree. The wood was too smooth, too slick.
How did she get up there in the first place?

“Grab my hand,” I said, extending an arm to her. “I’ll get you down.”

Mama stared at me with her large blue eyes. “What?”

“Give me your hand.”

She recoiled as if I were a poisonous adder, slamming her head against the trunk of the tree. “Get your hand away from me!”

I winced at the impact of her skull against the wood. But Mama wasn’t crying, wasn’t even moaning. The only emotion on her face was fear of me. She was terrified of her daughter.

“Mama …” My voice cracked. I licked my lips. “Please. Give me your hand. We’re going home now.”

Mama began to cry, the tears streaking her pale cheeks. “Get away from me!” She buried her face in her sleeve. “I won’t go anywhere with you!”

She’s going to fall. She’s going to get hurt
. I glanced down and began to panic. We weren’t very high, but the ground was just far enough away to cause damage if she lost her balance. “Stop this nonsense!” I tried to grab her wrist. “Come on. At least let me pull you down.”

She turned her head from me and sobbed into her arm. “Go away!”

My heart sank.
She really doesn’t know who I am
.

“Okay,” I whispered, releasing her wrist. I climbed down the tree and settled in the grass. Peering up at Mama, I let out a long sigh. “If you’re not going to come down, I’m just going to wait.”

“I’ll never come down!” Mama sniffled. “I … I …” She gasped for breath. “I told you I cut the peaches small enough! I did, I did.” She covered her face with her hands, muffling her sobs.

I lowered my eyes and sank onto the ground, picking up a stick to trace patterns in the dirt.

Sam squatted beside me, leaning against the tree. “Allie, I …”

Mama choked on a sob, then began to quiet down. Her shoulders were still shaking, but her breathing slowed.

I glanced at Sam. He was watching me, his blue eyes brimming with tears. I looked away.

“Allie?” Sam whispered.

“What?” I jabbed at the ground with the stick.
Stupid dirt
.

“I’m sorry.”

Those two words hung in the air — punctuated by Mama’s stifled cries. “So am I,” I whispered, curling my knees up to my chest.

“Can I …” Sam bit his lip, then reached out to touch my hair. “Is there anything I can do?”

I jerked away. “No.”

“Oh.” His face fell. He dropped his hand and stuck it in his pocket. “I guess I’ll go.”

“Okay.”

He stood and lingered for only a second before turning away. I looked up at his back and bit my lip. “Sam?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming to the picnic.” I gave him a small smile.

He grinned slowly, his blue eyes crinkling. “I had a good time.”

I watched him walk away before I picked up my stick again, drawing letters in the dirt.