Blood Wounds (7 page)

Mom's face contorted. "All I wanted was to get you away from there," she said to me. "And now you say you have to go back?"

"You got me away," I said. "I'm alive because you got me away. Let me say goodbye to my sisters. They didn't have you. They didn't get away."

I've seen Mom cry before. I've seen her cry at sappy movies on TV, and I've seen her cry tears of pride for me, for Brooke, for Alyssa. I saw her cry on her tenth anniversary, when Jack gave her the diamond ring he couldn't afford before they got married. I saw her cry when she told me her parents had died in a car crash.

I wanted to comfort her, but I couldn't. If she looked at me, she wouldn't see me. She'd see Dwayne and Pryor and everything she'd tried so hard to forget.

"If you want, I can stay with Willa," Pauline said to Jack.

"No," I said. "No, please, Pauline. I can't worry about you while I'm there. Faye'll look after me."

"Well, I'll travel with you," Pauline said. "After you're settled in, I'll go to Santa Fe. I have friends there I haven't seen in a long time. When you're ready to go home, I'll come get you."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked. "It's a big imposition."

"I'm sure," Pauline said. "Curt and I are going to go home now, and the three of you can figure things out. I'll find the best route to Pryor and make the arrangements. We can go tomorrow. Jack, if you call the police, you can tell them I'll be stopping at your house to pack some things for the trip."

"Thank you," I said.

"There are four people in this room who love you, Willa," Pauline said. "Don't you ever forget that."

"I won't," I said, because I knew that was what I was supposed to say. And the Willa Coffey who had existed until two days ago always said and did what she was supposed to.

F
AYE OPENED THE DOOR
and folded me in her arms. I stood there, shaking uncontrollably, half laughing, half crying, swallowed by her embrace, and feeling, finally, that I was home.

Pauline gave me enough time to pull myself together, and then she introduced herself. Faye knew Pauline would be bringing me, and for a moment I thought she'd hug her as well, but instead she held her hand out, and the two women shook hands and exchanged looks.

I love Willa,
each one said with her eyes, and once they both knew it, their smiles became genuine and affectionate.

"I forgot to ask if you're allergic to cats," Faye said as she helped us carry our bags in. "I sure hope you're not, because I've got three of them."

We shook our heads.

"Good," Faye said. "Larry spends most of his time outside, and Curly spends most of his time upstairs, but Moe is a people-person kind of a cat."

A large orange cat proved Faye's point by ramming his head into my ankle. I bent down and patted his head and was rewarded with a purr. It was the sweetest sound I'd heard in days.

"How was the trip?" Faye asked, leading us to her living room. "Are you hungry? I have a snack prepared in case. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Beer? Soda?"

"A beer sounds wonderful," Pauline said.

"My kind of woman," Faye said. "Some ginger ale for you, sweetie?"

"That would be great," I said.

Faye went into her kitchen and came back with two bottles of beer and one of ginger ale. "Sit down," she instructed us. "Anyplace Moe lets you."

We took seats. Moe checked us all out and settled for Faye's lap.

"He knows who feeds him," Faye said, rubbing his head affectionately. "You were saying how the trip was."

"Long," Pauline said. "But we made all our connections and the rental car was waiting for us, so we can't complain."

"I don't see why not," Faye said. "I complain about most anything. Never occurred to me you need a reason."

Pauline laughed. "This may be the best beer I've ever had," she said. "But two more swallows and I'm going to be out."

Faye nodded. "Your bodies are telling you it's an hour later than the clock," she said. "Willa, sweetie, I've got the spare room all set for you. And Pauline, you get my bedroom for the night."

"Oh, I don't want to put you out," Pauline said. "I could stay in a motel."

"There're no empty motel rooms for thirty miles," Faye said. "The reporters are like vultures."

I worried that Pauline would be offended, but instead she laughed. "I'm an old retired reporter myself," she said. "And we certainly can be vultures. But I still don't want to put you out of your bedroom."

"You're not," Faye said. "I sleep on the living room couch most nights anyway."

"I should call Mom," I said. "I told her I'd call when we got here."

"Why don't I show you your room?" Faye suggested. "You can call from there."

I followed Faye upstairs. It wasn't until I saw the twin bed, carefully made up with pillows and an old patchwork quilt, that I realized just how tired I was.

"This is my grandma's house," Faye said. "Everything got left here, including me. I dug through the attic this morning and found those old yearbooks. I thought you might like looking through them, so I left them on the night table."

"Thank you," I said. "Are there pictures of Mom in there?"

Faye nodded. "And of Budge," she said. "He was in my sister's class in school, so I have those yearbooks too."

I had a thousand questions, but I knew I was too tired to hear any of the answers. "Thank you, Faye," I said. "For letting me stay here. For everything."

Faye hugged me again. "Call Terri and get some sleep," she said. "The bathroom's down the hall, and I left the night-light on. Don't be surprised if Curly ends up on the bed with you. He's probably in the closet right now. He thinks this is his room."

"I'll like it if he does," I said. "Thanks again, Faye. I'll see you in the morning."

Faye gave me a long look, but then she kissed me good night and left me alone. I called Mom's cell and I got her voice mail, so I called Jack.

"Terri's sleeping," he told me.

I'd spoken to Mom while Pauline was doing the paperwork for the rental car in Amarillo. Still, it seemed odd that she hadn't stayed up for another couple of hours to make sure I'd arrived at Faye's. Either she was still angry at me for my trip to Pryor or the sedatives she was taking had kicked in.

"I'll talk to her tomorrow," I said.

"You could come home tomorrow," Jack said. "And talk to her in person."

"My sisters died," I said. "I'm staying for their funeral."

"Your sisters live in your home," Jack said. "Here in Westbridge. I want to make sure you understand that, pumpkin. We're your family—your mother, Brooke, Alyssa, me. Nothing is ever going to change that."

We both knew everything had changed and we both knew I wasn't supposed to say so. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," I said. "Love you, Jack."

"Love you right back," he said, the way he had for all the life I could remember.

I hung up, used the bathroom, and climbed into bed. A large gray cat jumped onto the foot of the bed, so I shifted over to give him some space.

There was a table lamp next to the bed, and a pile of old high school yearbooks. The most recent one, almost twenty years old, was on top. Pryor High School had a graduating class of forty-two seniors that year, so it was easy enough to find Mom's picture.

It was a formal yearbook picture, and Mom looked subdued, unsmiling. Her hair was long and straight and her gaze seemed to focus outside the frame of the picture, as though she was staring at something far away. Her future maybe, or any place that wasn't Pryor.

It was fascinating to look at Mom's picture, see her as she was when she was just a year older than me. But I was even more intrigued by the quote under her picture.

Don't look for me here,
it said.
It's there you'll find me.

"I'm not looking for you," I whispered as I put the yearbook down. "I'm looking for me, Mom, and I have to look here."

T
HE CLOCK BY THE BED
said 5:25, but my body told me it was 6:25 and time to get up. Curly was on Texas time and snored gently by my side.

I turned on the lamp and pulled out the oldest of the yearbooks. It took a long time before I found a shot of Budge, but there he was on the football team.

That was the only picture of him from his freshman year, and he had a helmet on, so I couldn't really see him. I pulled out the next year's yearbook and looked some more. He was back on the football team, but he'd made the basketball team as well, so I had a chance to see his face, his body.

He looked like the other boys in the yearbook, grimy and uneasy. I jumped ahead to his senior year and found his formal picture.

They listed his sports teams, but there was no quote. Maybe they didn't have quotes that year, or maybe Budge wasn't the quotable kind. Instead there was a brief description of him:

Budge is one of the most popular boys in school, especially with the girls.

I stared at the picture, trying to see why he was so popular. A quick survey of the other boys showed Budge was one of the better-looking ones, but he wasn't stand-out handsome. There were at least two other boys in his class who I thought were better-looking.

He'd stared sullenly into the lens, looking straight at it, not like Mom with her faraway glance. His downturned mouth, so similar to mine, gave no indication that he even knew how to smile.

But there was something about his eyes, a little narrowed, a little untrusting, that reached out to me, his daughter who hardly remembered him.

If I didn't know him, if I didn't know what had become of him, would I have stared into those eyes and thought about the pain they could inflict? Would I have said, "Those are the eyes of a killer," or would I simply have thought he was squinting, uncomfortable posing for the picture?

If I hadn't known he was my father, would I have looked at the picture and seen myself in it?

Jack had kept his yearbooks, and Brooke, Alyssa, and I had looked at them once or twice, giggling at the dated clothes and hairstyles. Jack had told us stories about his high school, and he even had a couple of his trophies on display in the den. I knew more about his past than I did my mother's, and until a few days ago, the only thing I'd known about Dwayne Coffey was his name. And even that wasn't accurate, since he went by Budge.

I went back to Mom's yearbook and looked up Faye. She'd gained fifty pounds over the years, but there was still the same kindness in her eyes.

Mom had held on to the one good thing about Pryor, I thought, putting the yearbooks back on the nightstand and preparing myself for what the day might bring.

P
AULINE AND FAYE
were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping their coffees. They looked like they'd known each other for years.

"There's orange juice if you want," Faye said. "I'm not a big breakfast person, but there's sweet rolls in the freezer and bread in the fridge for toast, and strawberry jam. I have eggs if you want me to make you some."

"Toast sounds fine," I said. I opened the refrigerator and pulled a couple of slices of white bread out of the package, then dropped them into the toaster. Faye showed me where the plates and glasses were, and I poured myself some orange juice.

"I thought about making you some big fancy breakfast," Faye said. "But that's for company, not family."

"This is fine," I said. "I'm not big on breakfast either."

"We all should be ashamed of ourselves," Pauline said. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and it sounds like none of us eats it."

"If God wanted me to eat a big breakfast, he would have made the day twenty-six hours," Faye said.

We laughed. It felt so strange to hear laughter, like hearing a song you knew sung in a foreign language.

"We were discussing your plans for the day," Pauline said. "Faye's arranged for you to see a lawyer."

"It wasn't much of an arrangement," Faye said. "Sam Whalen's my boss and I schedule his appointments. I cleared a space for us this morning, figured we'd get that over and done with first thing."

"Why do I need to see a lawyer?" I asked. "No one's accused me of anything."

"No, of course not," Faye said. "Besides, Sam's not that kind of a lawyer. Oh, he helps folks with their DUIs, drunk-and-disorderlies, but he's more your everyday kind of lawyer. Wills, real estate, divorces."

"Is he the only lawyer in town?" Pauline asked, helping herself to another cup of coffee.

"There's always two lawyers in any town," Faye said. "No point being a lawyer if you don't have another one to argue with. But Sam's the best, and what he doesn't know, he knows how to find out."

"I still don't see why I need a lawyer," I said, pulling the toast out and spreading jam on it. "I was hoping to do things today. I want to go to the cemetery where Mom's parents are. Maybe meet my great-grandmother, the one that raised Budge."

"Oh, sweetie," Faye said. "You can't go knocking on Mavis Coffey's door and introducing yourself. Her grandson just died and her three great-grandbabies. The last thing she needs is another shock, even if it's the good kind of shock."

"Besides," Pauline said, "Faye has to work, and you have no way to get around."

"So I see this lawyer and then what?" I asked.

"Willa," Pauline said sharply.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just ... well, I don't know what I thought, but this is so important to me. Being here and seeing things and learning about my families. Mom won't talk about anything. I guess I wasn't thinking. I guess I don't belong here any more than I belong back home."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Faye said. "It isn't becoming. And start facing reality. This town right now, it's radioactive. I'm not saying everybody here dies peacefully of old age, but we're not used to little children being slaughtered and we're not used to reporters showing up on our doorstep, asking all kinds of questions that make us feel like it's our fault Budge Coffey went crazy. Now Pauline's gone way out of her way to bring you here and I'm taking time off from work, and Sam's rearranged his calendar so he can see you, and we don't expect much from you in return except a little politeness. You think you can do that for us?"