Approaching Menace (18 page)

Three well-dressed salesclerks showed customers jewelry. One stood in a corner doing nothing. Sylvie had wedding rings set on the counter in front of a young couple.

“Josie,” Sylvie said, revealing her surprise to see her daughter.

“I need to speak with you,” Josie said without greeting.

Sylvie turned a wide smile to her clients and told the young woman to try on the ring. Her smile then swiveled toward Josie. “Well, speak.”

“Could we talk privately?”

Sylvie shook her head. “What is it?”

“Stop saying he’s coming back.”

Sylvie shrank back. Her smile faded. “What?”

Leaning close, Josie lowered her tone. “Nobody cares how skinny you are or how clean you keep the house. Dad is
not
coming back. And you have to stop saying he is.”

Her mother glanced at the customers. Her face shaded as she attempted to smile but instead grimaced. She looked at Josie.

“He’ll never come back,” Josie said.

Sylvie’s shoulders sank. The golden tint seemed to leave her eyes.

Josie hated to hurt her, but the words had to sink in. “You’re driving Colin crazy. Me,too. Please stop.”

Sylvie’s drawn-on eyebrows rose. Josie was angry with herself for again being the villain. She didn’t want to offend her parent or hurt Sylvie’s chance at a sale. She was chastising herself for her own worries when she heard her mother whispering.

“That time of the month,” Sylvie told the people standing nearby.

As Josie stomped away from the store, she glanced back to see almost everyone watching her exit. Many were nodding.

Sylvie didn’t return home as usual by nine-thirty. She was probably angry. That was fine. Colin’s emotions were at stake.

And Josie had finally recognized her own doubts about her father. Why
had
he left all those times, especially the final one? She was older than Colin and had watched their father’s comings and goings more often. Josie had seen his intoxication and heard the raised voices behind her parents’ bedroom door.

One time Jack Aspen came back after a long period of straying, and Josie recalled clinging to him for so long afterward it seemed he would not be able to leave her again. “I love you, Daddy,” she repeated so he could never forget. And if her mother was guilty of trying to improve herself and their home so he’d want to stay, Josie knew she had done her own share. She’d tried to keep everything neater, to fix French toast dipped in vanilla for his breakfast, to bring him extra strong black coffee to go with the daily newspaper. She’d tried to ask for nothing so he wouldn’t feel pressured.

Josie mulled on those days from her youth while Colin lingered in his bath. Those were days she didn’t want to remember.

A click let her know the bathroom door had opened.

“Colin,” she called, going toward him when he didn’t come to the den.

His hair was still damp. The wet spot on Spiderman’s cape in the center of his pajamas let her know he hadn’t done a thorough job of drying himself.

“Do you want to come and visit?” she asked, hoping for his company. It was past his bedtime, but he could sit awhile. He’d done homework earlier in the evening, and she’d drawn. But after some time Josie had realized she was only pondering. She’d added only two curves to her design.

“I’m going to bed,” he said.

“Dream well.” She watched him glance back and smile slightly to acknowledge her words. Then Josie returned to her perfect gown, urging herself to complete it.

No creativity would come. She envisioned herself as a teen, a time she recalled as feeling not too pretty, not quite ugly but with flaws. Sylvie had accidentally became pregnant with Colin. Josie was excited then but heard the gripes. Her dad didn’t like his wife to look so ballooned. He complained about how many kids they’d wind up with, and how much kids cost. That’s when Josie had determined she had also been an unwelcome pregnancy.

She’d grown up feeling her parents loved her. Her dad sometimes gave her cash or gifts. Sylvie showed her love. But Jack Aspen came and went so often, especially while Sylvie was pregnant, that Josie had begun to feel unwanted.

Colin’s birth came while she was in high school and she’d been happy. He had been such a small bundle, and she’d held him close, rocked him and felt his comfort. He looked like their father. After Josie graduated, she left home. Just like her father. She hadn’t planned to return. Her parents could work things out or not. They were no longer her problem.

But they were. Josie could no longer deny it.

The man who had sometimes seemed funny, who at times had appeared to be the strength of the family—and who might have a kidney that matched Colin’s—would
not
be coming back.

Sylvie must finally realize that.

And me too, Josie decided. She put away her drawing and carried out the garbage. Their father probably
had
walked out because he couldn’t handle Colin’s illness. Or maybe he couldn’t handle the thought of them all.

Josie shook her head, trying to get rid of the past. The steps she took in life never seemed her own. Somehow her parents followed right behind, dragging her backward.

She was so inside herself, envisioning her father, tall and broad shouldered and often with pinkish cheeks and a giddy smile, that she didn’t notice anyone in front of the garage.

“Josie,” someone said, and she jumped back, breath catching in her throat.

A man neared and with the patio lights beyond Josie began to make out his frame. He moved closer. “Mr. Allen.”

“Sorry I frightened you.” He paused a few feet away from her.

“Some things seem to be getting to me lately.”

He nodded. “I only came over this late because I saw your lights out here were still on.” His hand stretched out. It held folded money. “For the beach jacket.”

“Oh no.” Josie waved his offering aside. “I was happy to do it. Little Annie looks so cute in it. Of course she looks adorable in anything.”

“I insist.” He pressed the money into her fist. “Especially because I’d like for you to buy fabric and make another one. If you have the time.”

“Another one?”

“For me. Would you do it?”

“Certainly.” Her boss could have bought a beach jacket from any fine retail store, but he wanted her design. She was flattered. “What color? Do you want to choose the fabric?”

“I’ll leave that all up to you. You make great choices.” He walked off, and thoughts of excellence filled Josie’s mind. Leaving Colin so she could study fashion design seemed impossible. But maybe she could start her own business making beach jackets for entire families.

She grinned and then watched the dark shadow return. Allen stood beneath the light near the garage. “I almost forgot. At the store you spoke of trying to get more organ donors.”

He had her rapt attention. “Yes, I’ve been mulling on ideas.”

“That seems such a worthwhile cause. I’d like to help.”

“It definitely is worthwhile. Donated organs save lives. I keep praying that someone’s kidney will prolong Colin’s years.”

“I’ve mentioned donating to my wife and a few friends. They’re all considering doing it.”

“Great! I’ve put together some thoughts on advertisements.”

“Wonderful. You’ll need money. I’ll be glad to make a donation.”

Tears touched her eyes. He went home to watch a movie with his family, and Josie was filled with such happy thoughts she didn’t think to take up discussing her father anymore with her mother. Sylvie seemed as cheerful as usual once she parked and came out of the garage. Neither mother nor daughter acted as though anything unusual had transpired between them that day.

* * *

The next afternoon Josie browsed in an arts and crafts shop. She asked a salesclerk many questions, and he led her to shelves filled with paints and helped her find sturdy posters.

Back at home, Josie used the Yellow Pages to begin making a list of businesses. Then she rose from the table and paced, rehearsing the speech she might use. “Hello,” she said brightly, “this is Josie Aspen. Have you ever considered how little good your eyes will do you after you’re dead?”

She groaned. “That sounds horrible.”

She yanked the refrigerator door open, stared inside, shut it, and strode back and forth. “Good morning, my name is Josie Aspen.” She wouldn’t wait for a response but would dive right into her spiel. “I know you won’t need your kidneys after you’re gone, but I know someone who does. Would you care to donate yours? Perhaps also some money?”

Josie flung herself down to a chair and grabbed the list she’d made. “I can’t do this.”

She hung her head and wondered how she’d ever considered she could accomplish her plan.

From the den came a humming.

She peered up. With head cocked to one side, she could see Fred accomplishing his chore. Keeping her little brother alive.

“Oh yes, I can,” she said. She stood in the doorway and watched Colin sleeping. His coughs didn’t wake him.

Returning to the kitchen table, Josie retrieved a pen and wrote words she would try. Maybe not perfect, but a start. If some things failed, she could try others. She only knew she had to attempt something that might help people in need—especially a thin one with brown bangs and deep dimples.

* * *

“Yes!” Josie strode out the front door, felt warm, and eyed the sun setting behind the treetops and roofs of houses across the street, where Mr. Fletcher worked in his yard. She stretched her arms, closed her eyes, and dropped her head back, taking deep breaths of the damp air while reviewing the phone calls she had made.

Most of the places she had called were open since she started with stores in the mall, which wouldn’t shut until late. At each store, she asked for the manager. Josie then told who she was and explained what she was trying to do. Help her brother and others who existed each day hoping to survive.

She would contact some donor headquarters but in the meantime, beginning in their hometown and the surrounding areas, she’d have one step forward. Then she’d put another. And then more steps until who knew what area might be covered?

She was asking local patrons to consider becoming organ donors, something most said they’d thought of before, but like with so many good causes, the intention got interrupted by daily tasks. “But now,” Josie told each person she’d spoken with, “I am asking you to really do it if you haven’t yet. Fill out an organ donor card on the back of your driver’s license.” She said the most important thing to do was to speak to their families about their wishes. “Otherwise at the time of one’s death, donating the organs becomes a difficult challenge for family members.”

Josie suggested to managers that they speak to employees and ask them to consider doing the same.

“Imagine what a difference you could make,” she’d said, “in helping one person, or many, survive. All of us hope we won’t be leaving this earth for a while, but for some of us, the time will be sooner than later. And whenever that happens, do you realize how much you could do for others?”

To the business owners who didn’t seem rushed, she told of all the body parts that could be reused: corneas, liver, heart, pancreas, lung, tissues, and others. Most people expressed surprise about how much from one person could generate new life or vision for another. And most said yes, they would fill out donor cards immediately.

When Josie explained that she’d begun a campaign right here in Windswept and would be getting her work on the air, quite a few mentioned they’d like to make a contribution. Their responses made Josie forget how her palms dampened when she’d started making those calls. Now she knew she could also begin making calls in person.

Her heart felt full as she stretched her arms farther and then brought them down, wrapping herself inside them. What she’d begun might not take root immediately. But taking that step had been something she’d wanted for a long time.

Feeling perfectly fine, she opened her eyes and smiled at the last rays of sun sinking into the branches of their maple trees.

She heard shuffling. Maurice Exely stood a few feet away.

“Maurice,” she said, and he moved through the grass toward her, eyes rheumy and the area below them engorged. A thick hand rose toward her.

He held out a football.

“Oh, that’s Colin’s.” She accepted it from him.

His hand remained extended. His eyes slid to the right. Then they appeared frightened.

“Josie, did you get everything?” LauraLee Allen asked, coming across from her yard.

“I sure did.”

Josie saw her other neighbor departing. “Thanks, Maurice,” she called. “I’ll give it to my brother.”

The retreating figure with hands covered by coat sleeves did not turn back to indicate he’d heard.

“That sure is a weird bird,” LauraLee said when she neared.

Josie glanced again at the large penguin-like figure and took LauraLee inside to show her purchases and tell of her phone calls. They made arrangements to get together the next day.

After LauraLee left to prepare dinner, Josie wanted to pay bills. She grabbed those she was responsible for and looked in the cubbyhole where Sylvie placed new mail. It was empty. Josie strolled out to the mailbox near the street where their box stood beside a matching one belonging to the Fletchers.

The water bill lay on a flyer advertising a furniture sale and Sylvie’s issue of
Beautiful Homes
. Underneath the magazine she spied something blue.

Josie almost missed the last item. It was soft and cut about two inches square.

She took it out and turned it over in her hand, recalling where she had seen it. A shiver ran through her. This fabric was royal blue and silk, exactly like the scarf she had taken from her mother’s shoulder.

Across the street, Aubrey Fletcher lay on his lawn chair, even though night had descended. The only light came from lanterns near his front door. Josie thought of asking if he’d seen anyone near their mailboxes, but reconsidered. The mail had been delivered hours ago. She also recalled that a dark blue sedan had been parked in front of the Fletchers’ house.

She walked to the garage to check her car’s floorboard, where she’d last seen Sylvie’s scarf.