Mother (29 page)

He shrugged.
 

“What are you so happy about?”

“Nothing. I just thought a ride out in the country would be nice.”

She stood. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed the edge of his jaw. “Now tell me what’s really going on.”

“Nothing, I swear!” He laughed.

“Whatever you say, Magic Man.”
 

“I was just about to tell Prissy what we saw earlier,” said Phyllis.

“All right,” said Prissy. “Let’s hear it.”

“Well.” Phyllis leaned closer. Her cleavage - if you could call it that - twitched like wrinkled prunes. “As I said, we just
happened
to be outside-”

“Because Phyllis was
smoking,
” interrupted Aida, unable to contain herself.

Phyllis shot her a hateful look.

“Well, I hate to ruin your fun, Aida,” said Prissy, “but I’m well aware of Phyllis’ decision to take up smoking again.” She gave Phyllis a disapproving look. “I can smell it a mile away.”

“
Anyway,
” said Phyllis. “We thought we saw movement in your upstairs window-”

“I had my binoculars because I was looking at my yard,” said Aida, nodding.

Phyllis sighed. “Would you like to tell the story, Aida?”

“I just wanted to make it clear why I had the binoculars.”

Prissy knew full well why Aida carried those binoculars around. Everyone did.
 

“
Anyway,
” said Phyllis. “We looked into your window-”

“With the binocul-”

“And we saw Claire and Jason in one of the rooms upstairs.”

Prissy sighed. “I see.”

Aida sat forward, waiting for a reaction.

“We aren’t trying to pry or anything, of course,” said Phyllis. “We just thought you should know.”

Aida nodded.
 

Prissy heard a car starting outside. Jason and Carlene were going somewhere.

“Anyway,” said Phyllis, “you didn’t hear it from us, but you might consider putting some locks on the doors or something. They spent an
awful
lot of time up there.” She paused. “I wonder what they were looking for.”

Indeed.
“I appreciate your letting me know. I’ll have a talk with them.”

“You didn’t hear it from us, though,” said Phyllis.

Aida nodded.

“Of course not.” Prissy stood. “I’m getting a headache.” She gave Phyllis a pointed look and the woman reddened. “I’m going to have to go lie down, ladies.”

She ushered them out of the house, noting the Prius’ absence.
And they didn’t even bother to tell me where they’re going.

Prissy smoothed her clothes and hair and headed up the stairs.

“Well,” said Phyllis, as she and Aida walked home. “You’d think she could have at least offered some leftover treats we brought her.”

“It’s your cigarette smell, Phyllis,” said Aida. “She’s allergic.”

“Oh, bullshit,” said Phyllis, digging into her purse. She lit another smoke and pulled on it. “Why is it that everyone is allergic to smoke these days? I don’t buy it.”

“Some people really are, Phyllis.”

Phyllis wasn’t listening. She paused and looked back at Prissy Martin’s house.
I know when I’m being lied to.
She didn’t know what Prissy was up to, but it sure as shitting wasn’t a headache that had made her usher them away so quickly.

Prissy shoved the key in a third time and jiggled it. Nothing. They’d changed the lock on the apartment.

Rage trembled in her fingertips. Locked out of my own home! How dare they? Just to be sure, she tried one more time.

Nothing. “Well. I see. So it’s okay for them to enter my home without my knowledge and rummage through my rooms, but apparently, I’m not allowed access on my own property!” It wasn’t acceptable, and Prissy intended to do something about it.

New Digs

“I’m hungry,” Claire said. “You’ve driven us all the way around Snapdragon. It’s pretty, but I need sustenance.”

“Your wish is my command.” Jason turned right onto a narrow street dotted with well-kept little houses.

“Are we lost?”

“Nope.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. And, it’s a picnic.”

“I don’t see any delis. Or parks.”

“Be patient.”

Claire sat back, her stomach growling. “Our baby is very demanding, Magic Man. He needs me to eat something, now.”

Jason turned onto another street then into a driveway behind a black Toyota pickup. The house was white with dark green trim.
 

“Who lives here?”

“Paul Schuyler.”

“We’re seeing him?”

“That’s who I was talking to - he’s invited us over for a barbecue.”

“You could’ve told me.”

“He wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Why?”

“I dunno.” He killed the engine and grinned. “He’s my boss. It would have been rude to ask.”

Claire opened the Prius’ door, then looked at her husband. His eyes were twinkling like Christmas lights. “You’re still keeping something from me.”

“Who, me?” He got out, taking her arm and guiding her up the walk to the front door.
 

She could smell charcoal burning. “I wish I’d worn something decent.”
 

“You look great.”

Jason rang the doorbell.
 

“In ratty jeans?”

“Yep. You’re glowing.” He grinned.

The door opened and Paul Schuyler appeared. “Jason, thanks for coming.” He turned his baby blues on Claire. “Jason showed me your picture - but it didn’t do you justice. You look beautiful, all grown up.”

“And you look as handsome as ever.”

“Except for the extra twenty pounds.” He laughed and pulled Claire into a bear hug. “We have some catching up to do, but my coals are perfect right now, so let’s get our burgers grilled before we start talking.”

Claire felt dizzy. “That’s a good idea.”

They followed Paul into the house, through a neat but rather bare living room, into a sunny kitchen with white cabinets. Paul opened the back door for her but she pulled a chair from the kitchen table and sat. “You boys go do the grilling. I’ll wait here.”

“Are you all right, Claire?” Jason asked.

“Just a little dizzy.”

Paul looked concerned. “Can I get you some water?”

“Yes, please.” Her forehead broke into a light sweat as nausea threatened.

Paul drew a glass and grabbed a chip bag off the counter. She drank while he opened it and put it in front of her. “They’re just plain chips. I didn’t know what you guys would like.”

“Perfect.” Claire drained the water. While Paul drew another, she began on the chips.
 

Paul handed her a refill. “If you want to lie down … ”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Jason asked. He glanced at Paul. “She’s passed out before. The doctor put her on vitamin B shots.” He turned back to Claire. “Did you take your shot this morning, sweetheart?

“I did, and I’m fine. This is more about low blood sugar than anything else. Dr. Putnam said it will pass soon.” She went at the chips with gusto, already feeling better. “Go grill those burgers. Medium-rare for me, please.”
 

“Yes, ma’am!” Paul headed out, leaving the back door open.
 

“You’re sure you’re all right, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Jason, I’m fine. I’ll sit here and rest. Don’t worry.” Outside, Paul was whistling the Andy Griffith theme. “He’s such a big doofus. I love him.”

Jason chuckled. “As well you should.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” He kissed the top of her head and went outside.

He’s not telling me something.
She ate another chip and then noticed what lay on the table, half hidden behind condiments and plates of sliced tomatoes and onions. The Snapdragon High School yearbook from Tim’s and Paul’s junior year. She wiped her hands on her jeans and picked it up.

Paul’s yearbook was signed by the entire student body, from the looks of it. Seeing a few bookmarks, she turned to the first one and found the junior class student photos. She flipped to the M pages and found her brother’s solemn face. He was boyish, his golden blond hair combed back, his shirt and tie immaculate. But it was his eyes that gave Claire pause. They looked distant, tortured.
What were you thinking when they took your picture?
Her own eyes tried to well up.
Damned hormones!
It wouldn’t do to have the guys come in and find her blubbering. She flipped quickly to S and found Paul Schuyler. He wore a great big grin and had freckles over his nose that wouldn’t fade for another year. His cheeks were a little round, but he was adorable. Someone had kissed the photo, leaving hot pink lipstick behind. It was signed,
“Love you, Paul! Chastity
.” Claire didn’t remember anyone named Chastity.

Turning to B, she found Tim’s girlfriend, Stephanie Banks. She wasn’t as pretty as Tim’s caricature made her, but that was love for you. She was a gawky girl with thick glasses and braces on her smile. Her dark auburn hair was permed into a frizzy mass of curls that would have been right at home on a poodle. Claire wondered what Stephanie was doing these days … and if she ever thought of Tim.

Jason entered and set a paper plate in front of her. She looked at the big toasted sesame seed bun and the huge patty on it. “This is a work of art.”

“Yep,” Paul said, bringing in two more plates. “I am an artist and meat is my medium.”

Laughing, Claire began loading the burger with mayo, ketchup, onions, cheese, pickles, and tomatoes.
 

“She never used to eat like this,” Jason said as he and Paul sat down.

“I’m eating for an army.” She examined the burger. “Um, you don’t have any peanut butter, do you?”

Paul stopped squirting mustard to stare at her. “Peanut butter? Seriously?”

“She’s pregnant,” Jason said. “And she’s got a thing for peanut butter right now that you wouldn’t believe.”

“Well, no, I don’t have any. I could run to the market-”

“No, no, that’s not necessary.” Claire brought the burger to her lips. “It was silly. Eat, both of you. I hope you have enough meat for seconds.”

Paul laughed. “That I do.”

“Something’s going on with Prissy, and I don’t like it.” Aida Portendorfer studied her husband.

Stan, who’d been absently petting Pookie Bear while reading a John Grisham novel, looked up. “What do you mean?”

“She’s up to something, Stan. And I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, Aida-honey.”

Pookie Bear whimpered and pawed at Stan’s hand, urging him to continue petting.

“She seems edgier than usual. Nastier. I almost thought she was going to threaten me.”

Stan’s brow shot up. “She couldn’t possibly know-”

“Of course not,” said Aida quietly. She didn’t even want to mention
that
subject. She’d given it a lot of thought and had drawn the conclusion that the secret was safe, but there was something about Prissy’s eyes, some hidden knowledge that gave Aida doubts. It was a look that said,
I know
all
about you, Aida Portendorfer. Don’t press me.
It had chilled her.

Stan set his book down. “There isn’t anything you’re not telling me, is there, Aida-honey?”

“No. I’m probably just being paranoid. Prissy’s been on edge and I’m reading too much into it.”

Stan relaxed, watching her a moment. “You need to let it go, Aida.”

She nodded.

“It’s time to let it go. I wouldn’t care if the world knew what we did, but since you do, we’re going to make sure no one ever finds out.”

“You
bitch!
”

Geneva-Marie ducked just as the crystal vase her mother had given them as a wedding gift flew past her head. It exploded against the wall behind her. “Burke, please.” She cowered behind the chair, tears flooding her face.
 

“How dare you question me, you stupid whore!” Burke clamored toward her on unsteady feet and grabbed her by the hair, pulled her upright. He shook her hard. “This is
my
house and I’ll come and go as I please, you fucking bitch!” His breath, thick and rancid with whisky, washed over her.
 

He slapped her and the force sent her flying, toppling over the chair. She crumpled to the floor like a rag doll. “Please, stop!”

But Burke Collins did not stop, would not stop. He ambled toward her like a gorilla, and just as she got to her hands and knees and tried to crawl away, he kicked her in the ribs. Her wind knocked out, pain shooting through her, she fell face-first into the carpet.

“You bitch! You
fucking
bitch!” He kicked and kicked. “Why the
fuck
do you care when I get home? Are you hiding your boyfriend in here?” Another kick to the stomach. “Is that it, you cocksucking whore?”

He stopped and looked around, teetering. “Where is the fucking sumbitch, huh?”

“Burke.” Geneva-Marie’s voice was just above a whisper. “No one’s here but me and the boys.” He’d come home early from the furniture store, reeking of liquor, and had continued drinking for the last hour. Geneva-Marie had made the mistake of asking him why he’d left work, and it had set him off. In the past, he’d thrown things, slammed doors, and punched walls, but he’d never hit her. Until now.

“Calm down? Calm
down?
Is that what you say to the man who’s taken care of you your whole goddamn good-for-nothing life? Calm down?” He issued another hard kick, knocking her down before she could gain ground.

“Mommy!”
The voice of her youngest son, Chris, barely registered.

Through a blur of tears, Geneva-Marie watched as the little boy’s face fell into a tortured mask of shock.

“Son,” said Burke. “I …”

Chris’ older brother, Barry, appeared in the doorway and stared. “You bastard!” Barry charged Burke. They landed with a hard thump. Glass broke, and Barry was screaming - wild savage screams of incoherent rage.
 

Geneva-Marie struggled to her feet. “Barry,
stop!
” She ran toward him but it was too late. The sixteen-year-old was big enough now to overpower Burke … and that’s exactly what he did. Barry straddled his father, fists flying, pummeling Burke’s face. Burke warbled and made impotent attempts to dodge the wild beating, but Barry didn’t miss, not once. “Don’t touch my mother!” he screamed.