The Seventh Mother (23 page)

T
he next morning, Emma went to breakfast with me. We rode the elevator down and walked slowly to the dining hall. Lorelei waved to us from a table.

“I saved you some seats,” she called.

We filled our trays and went to sit with her.

“I’m glad to see you up,” she said, grinning at Emma.

“I’m glad to be up,” Emma said. “I don’t know if I could take another whole day of just laying around.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do next?” Lorelei spread jam on a piece of toast.

“I think we’ll drive up to Indianapolis and try to find Jenny’s grandmother.”

“That’s where I’m from,” Lorelei said. “The address on your envelope is actually very close to where I live.”

“Really?” Emma stared at her.

“Like I said,” Lorelei said, smiling, “it’s a God-thing. You-all should follow me up and stay with me while you’re there.”

“Really?” I said. “Can we do that, Emma?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Emma said, her cheeks reddening. “We can’t put you out like that.”

“You won’t be putting me out,” Lorelei said firmly. “You’d be helping me make good on a promise. Besides, I’ve got plenty of room. It’s just me and the cats. You-all can have the guest room for as long as you need it.”

Emma opened her mouth, but before she could speak her eyes widened. She was looking over my shoulder. I turned and saw Mrs. Rigby standing at the door, waving to us.

“Is she a friend?” Lorelei asked.

“Yes,” Emma said, rising to hug Mrs. Rigby.

“God, Shirley, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Me too, honey.” Mrs. Rigby stepped back and surveyed Emma from head to toe. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Emma said.

She turned back to the table. “Shirley, this is Lorelei. She’s from Indianapolis, and she’s been so kind to Jenny and me. Lorelei, this is Shirley. She’s the one who told me about this place.”

Mrs. Rigby sat down at the table opposite Lorelei.

“I came here years ago,” she said. “My sister used to work in the kitchen.”

Lorelei smiled and rose. “I’ll let you talk,” she said. “Meantime, think about my offer.” She touched Emma lightly on the shoulder. “I’d be glad to have you stay with me.”

Mrs. Rigby arched her eyebrows as Lorelei walked away.

“She wants you to stay with her?”

“She knows about . . . why we’re here. She had a friend once whose husband was abusive. She just wants to help.”

“Have you seen my dad?” I asked.

Mrs. Rigby nodded. “I was in the diner last night and he came storming in, yelling for Emma. Then he yelled at Resa that she’d better tell him where ya’ll went. Harlan came out front and I thought they might come to blows. But Resa just kept saying she didn’t know where you were, and finally Brannon left.”

She turned to look at Emma. “I’ve never seen him look like that.”

Emma nodded. I did, too. I’d seen Daddy mad before. Not often, but sometimes. And when he was mad, he didn’t look like Daddy at all. I shivered slightly.

“Did he ask you where we are?” I asked.

“No, honey.” She smiled at me. “He wouldn’t ask me anything. I don’t think he even saw me there.”

“I’m sorry to put Resa and Harlan through that,” Emma said.

“They’re all right,” Mrs. Rigby said. “They’ve seen worse, I guess. Harlan did tell Brannon he should call the police if he was really worried.”

“Do you think he will?” Emma’s face blanched.

“No,” Mrs. Rigby said, shaking her head. “He won’t call the police. He’s in too deep, and he knows it. But he is looking for you.”

She took Emma’s hand and held it.

“I don’t think you should stay here,” she said. “Too many people in town know about Loretto. I’m afraid someone might tell Brannon about it.”

Emma sat in silence, her face paler than ever.

“We should go with Lorelei,” I said. “And we should leave today.”

Emma looked at me, then down at the table.

“I just don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

“Honey,” Mrs. Rigby said, “if this Lorelei has offered you a place to stay, maybe you should take it. Maybe it’s God’s way of telling you where to go.”

Emma stared at her without speaking.

“Let’s ask Sister Frances,” Mrs. Rigby said. “She’ll know what you should do.”

We carried our trays to the kitchen, walked back to the main building, and took the elevator to the second floor.

“Sister?” Mrs. Rigby said, standing in the door to the kitchen.

“Oh, Shirley!” Sister Frances put down the dish she was drying and hugged Mrs. Rigby. “How are you? We’ve not seen you in such a long time.”

“I’m fine,” Mrs. Rigby said. “I suppose you heard about Damon?”

“We did.” The nun nodded. “We said a novena for him.”

“Thank you.”

“And how are you now? How are you holding up?”

“I’m good.” Mrs. Rigby smiled. “I have a job.”

“Good for you!”

“Emma helped me get it.” Mrs. Rigby turned toward us. “She’s been such a good friend to me.”

“And now you’re being a good friend to her.”

“We came to ask you a question.” Shirley dropped down into a chair. Emma sat down, too.

“What is it?” The nun sat down opposite Emma.

“Lorelei has offered us a place to stay in Indianapolis,” Emma said. “I don’t want to burden her. But Indianapolis is where Jenny’s mother is from. I’m hoping we can track down her mother, Jenny’s grandmother.”

“That sounds like a fine idea.”

“But,” Emma said, “I don’t know if Brannon will come looking for us there. I don’t want to get Lorelei into any trouble. Or . . . well, you know.”

“Emma, if Lorelei has made the offer, she knows what’s at stake. I think it will be good for her to have you stay. And good for you, too.”

“I agree.”

We turned to see Lorelei standing in the doorway.

“I told you, I have plenty of room and I’m happy to have you. Seriously, I want to do this. I need to do this.”

I stared at her, wondering why she would need to do anything for us.

After a pause, Emma rose and took Lorelei’s hands.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can’t tell you how much . . .”

“Shirley thinks we should go soon,” I said. “She said my dad is looking for us, and too many people in Campbellsville know about this place.”

“All right, then,” Lorelei said. “I’ll go pack up, and you-all do the same. And then we’ll hit the road. Okay?”

“Thank you,” Emma said again.

Mrs. Rigby followed us to our room. Then she reached into her purse and took out a white envelope.

“Here,” she said, shoving the envelope into Emma’s hands. “I wish it was more, but it’s all I could scrape together right now.”

Emma opened the envelope, then tried to hand it back to Mrs. Rigby.

“Shirley, I can’t take this. It’s too much!”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Rigby said, backing away. “You were a friend to me when I really needed one. Now let me be a friend to you. You’ll pay me back when you can.”

Emma threw her arms around Mrs. Rigby and both of them cried. Finally, Mrs. Rigby pulled back, straightened her blouse, and gave us a teary smile.

“Call me when you get there,” she said. “But don’t use your phone. It might have a GPS on it, or something.”

She turned and walked out of the room quickly. We heard her shoes clicking down the stairs.

“How much did she give you?” I asked, staring at the envelope.

Emma took a stack of bills from the envelope and began counting.

“Two thousand dollars,” she said finally. “My God, I can’t believe she did this.”

“You-all about ready?” Lorelei’s voice called down the hall.

“We’ll be there in a minute,” Emma called back.

We gathered our things, made the beds, and walked to the elevator.

“Where are you parked?” Lorelei asked.

“Right by the building,” Emma said.

I said nothing, just clutched my bag and held my breath, waiting for the elevator door to open. I hated small spaces.

“I’ll pull around and you can follow me,” Lorelei said. “It’s a white Honda.”

We put our things in the trunk and got in the car, then pulled out and followed Lorelei down the drive, away from our safe haven at Loretto and toward an uncertain future in Indianapolis.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Emma said. Her voice shook a little. “I hope it’s the right thing.”

“I hope so, too.”

W
e drove west for a while and then turned north, covering the same roads we’d followed just a few months earlier on our way to Campbellsville. I thought about that drive, how excited I had been, how it all seemed like such a grand adventure. Now . . . well, now I was on the run from Brannon with Jenny, pregnant and scared to pieces.

What if Brannon did call the police? Could I be charged with kidnapping? What if there really was an explanation for the lockets and the driver’s licenses? But how could there be? My head ached just thinking about it all.

We drove in silence for a long time. Jenny sat beside me, staring out her window. She held her stuffed bear in her lap. She looked much younger than her eleven years.

“Are you doing okay?” I asked.

She nodded, but said nothing. Her hands clutched the bear tightly.

“I’m sorry,” I said over the lump in my throat. “I wish I could make everything all right.”

She sighed heavily.

“I wish I could talk to Lashaundra.”

“I know. I wish I could call Resa, too.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see them again?”

“I hope so.”

“Do you think Daddy misses us?” Her voice was small.

“I’m sure he misses you, honey. And I’m sure you miss him.”

“Will I ever see him again?”

“Oh, honey, I’m sure you will. We just need to . . . we have to figure some things out.”

I glanced over at her and saw her lower lip tremble.

“Do you wish you never met Daddy?” she asked.

The question felt like a punch in the stomach; it nearly took my breath away.

Did I wish that? If I’d never met Brannon, I would still be at the campground in Idaho, living in the bunkhouse, eating at Zella Fay’s, working with the horses. I’d be safe.

But if I’d stayed, I wouldn’t have met Resa and Harlan, Angel and Shirley. I wouldn’t know Jenny. I wouldn’t have this baby growing inside me.

“No,” I said at last. “I’m glad I met him, and you. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have this baby.” I patted my belly.

“She’s changing lanes,” Jenny said, pointing to Lorelei’s car. I pulled into the right-hand lane behind her.

Ahead, Lorelei’s turn signal came on. I followed her off the highway and into a McDonald’s parking lot.

“Okay,” she said, walking to our car. “We’re going to get onto the loop in a couple miles. We’re going east. Traffic is heavy sometimes, so if we get separated, just keep on the loop until you see the exit for Washington Street. Then go straight ahead through the light and I’ll be in the parking lot waiting for you.”

“Washington Street. Got it.”

“You doing okay, kiddo?” Lorelei smiled across me at Jenny.

“I guess so.”

“We’re almost there.”

She got back in her car and we pulled onto the highway.

“Do you think my grandmother is still alive?” Jenny asked.

“I hope so,” I said. “I really hope so.”

“I wonder what she’s like.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“Maybe she can tell me about my mom.”

“I’ll bet she’d love to do that.”

Jenny sat for a long time staring out the window.

“Will we have to tell her my mom’s dead?” she asked suddenly. “Or do you think she already knows?”

Oh God, I hadn’t even thought about that.

“I’m thinking she already knows,” I said softly. “It’s been eight years. She might still hope, but she probably knows your mom is gone.”

Jenny sniffed and wiped her nose.

“I know it’s awful,” I said. “But I promise it will be better for her to know for sure, instead of just wondering. And . . . and she’ll get to meet you. I know she will love to meet you. You’re her granddaughter, you know.”

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Oh, Jenny, of course she’ll like you. She’ll love you. You’re a wonderful, wonderful girl, and everyone loves you. Plus, it will be like a little bit of your mother coming back to her.”

“Her letter said things were hard between them. What do you suppose that means?”

I thought a moment before answering, choosing my words carefully.

“Lots of mothers and daughters have trouble getting along,” I said. “I loved my mother, but I didn’t get along with her a lot of times. Sometimes, the people we love the most are the ones we hurt the most. But I’m sure your grandma loved your mom. And I’m sure she’ll love you, too.”

“Emma?” Jenny’s voice was a mere whisper now.

“What?”

“What if she wants me to live with her?”

Another punch in the stomach.

“We won’t worry about that now,” I said. “For now, we have enough on our plates. Let’s just get to Lorelei’s first, and we’ll figure out the rest later. Okay?”

“I don’t want to live with someone I don’t know,” she said firmly. “Even if she is my grandma.”

“Don’t worry.” I squeezed her knee. “I’m not letting you out of my life, Jenny. I promise you that.”

I thought back to the day I’d left Micah’s house, driving in the predawn, abandoning the car along the highway, making my way to Salt Lake City—all the while, worrying about my younger sisters, especially Clarissa.

I couldn’t save Clarissa that day. But by God, I could save Jenny now.

“There’s Washington Street.” Jenny pointed to the exit sign. I pulled onto the ramp and followed Lorelei to the light. She waved and put on her right turn signal.

I followed her down the busy street into what looked like a small town surrounded by city. We turned right onto another busy street and then right again onto a drive lined with trees and tidy brick houses. Lorelei pulled into a driveway beside one of the houses, and I followed her.

“Here we are,” she said, when we got out of the car. “Home, sweet home.”

“It’s pretty,” Jenny said.

It was a charming little house, redbrick with green-shuttered windows. A flagstone walkway led from the sidewalk to the front porch, lined with tulips and daffodils. It looked like something from a movie, small-town America, any town.

We got our things from the car and followed Lorelei onto the porch. She unlocked the door and we stepped into a little foyer. A small bench sat just inside the door, with a mirror hanging above it. A huge orange cat appeared, yowling loud and rubbing itself against Lorelei’s ankles.

“This is Simon,” she said, stooping to pick up the cat. “He’s my good kitty, yes he is.”

The cat was purring now, almost as loudly as it had yowled before.

Lorelei showed us the guest room, painted pale yellow with matching quilts on the twin beds.

“You-all just relax and settle in,” she said. “I’m going next door for a minute to let Mrs. Hanson know I’m back. I wasn’t supposed to get home till Tuesday, and I don’t want her to think someone has broken in!”

Jenny sat down on one of the beds, stroking the quilt softly.

“This is really pretty,” she said.

I sat down beside her and gathered a corner of the quilt.

“The stitching is beautiful,” I said. “I used to quilt, when I was younger. But I don’t think I ever did anything as nice as this.”

“Did your mother teach you?”

I nodded and smiled, remembering long afternoons in my father’s house, sitting with my mother and sisters around a quilting frame, hands flying as fast as the gossip.

“Maybe someday you can teach me.”

“Maybe I will,” I said. “When all this is settled, maybe we’ll get a quilting frame and I’ll teach you.”

Jenny sighed and lay on the bed, resting her head in my lap.

“I hope that comes soon,” she whispered.

I stroked her hair, wishing with all my might that I could just erase the ugliness of the last few days and make it all better. If only Jenny hadn’t gone into the attic. I shook my head. No, it was better to know. I had to know. I had to protect myself and my baby. If only none of it was true. If only Brannon hadn’t . . . I couldn’t even make myself finish the thought. Brannon had done awful things. As soon as Jenny showed me the licenses, I knew. I’d seen his anger, I’d felt it. And I’d told myself I could live with it. But now . . . now I knew. Now there was no going back.

I felt a bit of damp on my hand as I brushed Jenny’s cheek. She was crying, not making a sound.

I began crooning the song my mother used to sing to me when I was a little girl and sad.

“Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you . . .”