Written on My Heart (14 page)

B
ud left for Stoughton Falls again almost the minute I got back. Dottie showed up at The Point the next day and I was glad for her company. On Thursday afternoon, she and I took Arlee up to Ray's to pick up the mail.

Madeline had Travis. “Give me some time with that baby! I won't wreck him, I promise. After all, look how my girls turned out,” she said, rolling her eyes. Evie hadn't come home the night before. “If she isn't dead somewhere,” she told Dottie and me, “I'm going to kill her.”

Dottie had something other than Evie on her mind. As we walked along, she said, “I've found out that even if I go pro, the bowling tour don't pay that well. I been adding it up. Unless I want to live in my car, I'll probably have to back my bowling up with an honest living, like bossing high school girls around a gym. Jesus, don't I hate the thought of doing that. I remember what pains in the asses we were to the poor suckers who tried to whip us into shape. Thankless job. And them kids won't care that I'm a champion bowler, so they won't be as impressed as they should be.”

“Comes back around, I guess,” I said.

“Does,” Dottie said. She stooped down, bundled Arlee into her arms, and made a farting noise into the bend of her little white neck. Arlee screeched and giggled.

Dottie plunked Arlee down on the road and Arlee said, “Agin!”

“We're almost at the store,” I said. “Dottie will do it some other time.”

Dottie and I grabbed her hands and scooted her up over the front steps of the store.

“Hello, pumpkin!” Ray hollered when he saw her.

“Jeeza!” Arlee said.

“Great,” I muttered to Dottie.

“He's been called worse, I bet,” Dottie said.

Ray reached in back of him, took the mail from Grand's slot, and handed it to me. Her written name,
Florence Gilham
, in faded ink on yellowed paper, was still above the slot. I hadn't asked Ray to change it, and I never would.

I shuffled envelopes like gin rummy cards. One, two, and three. Bills, bills, and bills.

“I'm going to have to get a job too,” I said to Dottie. “Can I come help you?”

“Might just as well,” Dottie said. “Bring a whistle.”

One small cream-colored envelope with my name and address in block letters on the front postmarked Long Reach. My heart sped up. “Shit,” I said.

“What?” Dottie said.

Ray handed Arlee two lollipops. “One is good,” I said.

“Two is better,” he said.

“I'm not supposed to open this,” I muttered.

“Why not?” Dottie said.

I turned to Ray and held up the envelope. “Where did this come from?” I asked him.

“The mailman,” he said. “He stops in a truck every day and drops off the mail. Been doing it for years. Neither rain, sleet, nor snow stop him from his appointed rounds.”

“Thanks for clearing that up,” I snapped. “I thought maybe you shit it out and put it into the box.”

He gave me a look. So did Dottie. And Arlee. Then Stella came into the store and we all looked at her.

“What?” she said. “What's happened now?”

“Hi, Stella,” Dottie said. “How the hell are you?”

“Doing good, Dottie. Better than I have for a long time. How about you?”

Dottie walked over to Stella, and Ray walked over to me. “What the hell is up your butt?” he grumbled. “You pissed at me or the mailman?”

“Neither of you,” I said. “I'm sorry.” I took Arlee's sticky hand, brushed past Dottie and Stella, and went out the door.

“Daw come,” Arlee said.

“She'll be along in a second,” I said. “We have to go home.”

At the house I showed the letter to Dottie. “I'm supposed to give this to Parker before I open it,” I said. “In case there might be fingerprints.”

“But it's addressed to you.”

“It is, isn't it?”

“You and Ray and the mailman already messed up the envelope.”

“We did, didn't we?”

“We could try and steam it open,” Dottie said. “Can't harm nothing.”

“I could take it out by the corners and pinch the paper along the sides so the middle doesn't get messed up.”

“Could.”

So we did. Dottie ran it along the teakettle steam and the flap let go. We turned the kettle off, sat down at the kitchen table, and looked at the now-opened letter.

“Well,” Dottie said. “You going to read it?”

My fingers danced along the edges of the white paper folded inside its envelope cave as if it were on fire. “Different postmark. The first one was from Freeport,” I said. “The second one was from Lewiston.”

“That's weird.”

I held the folded paper in front of me. My fingers trembled.

“Okay. Here goes,” I said. Lined paper. Same flowing cursive as the second one.

Your games are not amusing and I don't like to look like a fool. I would rather you tell me you do not want to meet me or see me again. Please advise. I love you.

“Who the hell is this from?” I said. “Why the fuck am I getting these letters? Who is sending them?”

My mind cast around for someone, anyone, and I suddenly remembered Patty, the funny, wild friend who had taken the trip with Carlie the weekend she had vanished. Would she know something about the letters? I wished I could show them to her, but she had left for New Jersey right after Carlie had disappeared. I had never heard from her again, even after I had written her a letter.

“I wonder what happened to Patty,” I said to Dottie.

“Christ, you jump around. What does it look like in your head?” She stood up. “I'm going to get Travis. I just heard some yelling. Evie must be home. I'll be right back.”

Dottie went out the door and I went to the phone and dialed Parker. He showed up about an hour later, his cruiser in front of the house calling attention to the fact that, yes, something was off yet again in Florine land.

“I just handled the edges of the paper,” I told him.

Parker looked as if he didn't believe me. He picked up the envelope, took reading glasses from his front shirt pocket, and put them on. “Long Reach postal mark,” he said. As he read the short message, I looked over his shoulder at it again.
Your games are not amusing and I don't like to look like a fool.
I could agree with that. Then I looked again.
Your games are not amusing and I don't like to look like a fool.
Who talked like that? And then it hit me.

“Edward,” I said. My skin crawled.

“Who?” Parker said.

“Edward Barrington.”

“What about him?” Parker said.

“He talks like that. Amusing. Advise. We don't use fancy words like that around here.”

Parker's eyebrows bent into a serious-looking
V
. “Lot of folks use big
words, Florine. Don't go trying to be some kind of detective. Watch out who you accuse of something you got no proof about. And if you want me to help you, stop opening them letters.” His chair scraped as he got up.

He turned to go, and then he turned back. “We don't even know if these letters have anything to do with Carlie. ‘C' doesn't tell us anything. And you know, Barrington ain't that bad a guy.”

“Well, I know him in a different way,” I said to him.

“Don't think something about someone because you don't like them,” Parker said.

“All right, already,” I said. “I get it.”

After Parker left, Arlee bugged me to let her color, so I pulled a box of crayons and a coloring book from a kitchen drawer and we sat down at the table together. She was partial to blues and purples. I started her on a picture of a house just as Dottie walked back in with a sleeping Travis. She put him down in his bassinet on the porch and we went back into the kitchen and sat down. I filled her in on the latest exchange between Parker and me.

“Edward
does
use big words,” I said. “He talked that way to Andy and me that time he came to take Andy back home with him. And he gives me goose bumps. Wouldn't hurt for Parker to check on it.”

“Suppose not,” Dottie said. “Not to change the subject, but Evie's in big trouble. Some guy dropped her off a little while ago. Older. Just dropped her and gunned it out of here. Smells like she went swimming in a keg.”

“'Least she didn't drown.”

“If she keeps up this happy bullshit, she might. Bert's about ready to drop her overboard with a rusty anchor wrapped around her legs.”

“Well, let's hope she wises up,” I said. “Like I did.”

Dottie gave me a look.

“What?” I said.

She left shortly after that and I fed Travis and Arlee, after scrubbing big loops of violet crayon from the surface of the table. Next time, I would put newspapers down on the table's surface when Arlee colored, until she learned how to stay within the lines. Maybe she never would. That would be fine with
me.

J
une faded away in its quiet green way, and Arlee turned two with a little cake, balloons, and everyone who loved her there to help her celebrate. The first week of July slipped into place. Bud took the week off and drove to The Point. I puttered as he did chores and helped Billy replace the old picket fence between the cliff and the house.

It was about twenty feet to the rocks below the ledge where Grand's house stood. When I had been little, Grand, who had a sixth sense about where I shouldn't be, would yell out the porch screen for me to “stay away from the cliff” whenever I wanted to slip through the gate to stand looking down. I had long outgrown the urge to toss down clams or mussels to see them break on the rocks, but now I had babies who would want to do the very same thing. Arlee was already mastering the art of running out of sight. I wouldn't have thought a kid could move so fast, but I was finding out how tricky she could be. So we decided to replace the fence.

When Billy showed up early on the morning of July 3, I noticed dark circles under his eyes. His smile was small and the light in his eyes dim.

“Hey, Florine,” he said.

“Hey,” I answered back. “You want some coffee?”

“Nope,” he said. “Lots to do today. Bud ready?”

“He's upstairs getting himself pretty for you,” I said. Billy ignored my joke.

“I'll get to it, then,” he said. He spotted Arlee and his face brightened. “Suffer the little children,” he whispered. He picked her up and she hugged him. His eyes shut tight as he held her, and I saw something sad pass over him. He put her down. “I'll get cracking,” he said, and went outside.

Bud walked downstairs a few minutes later and I poured him a cup of coffee. As he drank it, I brought up something that had occurred to me in the middle of the night.

“What if another letter comes while we're back in Stoughton Falls?”

“Ray will forward it,” he answered. “Or Dottie will let us know.”

Dottie was staying in the house for the rest of the summer. I figured it was the least I could do for her. Life at the Butts house had gotten louder in the last couple of weeks, what with Madeline and Evie going at each other hammer and tongs.

“Too much hissing,” Dottie told me. “Why the hell I came home, I don't know.”

“To see me,” I said.

“You're out of here,” Dottie said. “I'd go too, except for my jeezly job at the park.”

When I asked her if she wanted to stay at Grand's house, I thought for a scary minute that she was going to jump on me and give me a bear hug.

“Please keep it clean,” I told her.

“Grand will make sure I do,” she said. “I can just hear her saying, ‘Dorothea, things don't stay clean by themselves.' She'll keep me in line.”

The fence got finished around noontime and I fed Billy, Bud, and Arlee lunch. As I warmed a bottle for Travis, Stella called “Yoo-hoo” from the screen door.

“Come in,” Bud called, and she rounded the hall and walked into the kitchen carrying a plate full of brownies. She ignored me and beamed at Billy and Bud. She said, “I saw you both working so hard in this sun, and I figured Florine wouldn't have time to make you something special. So I baked these.”

“Thank you, Stella,” Billy said.

Bud said, “You eaten lunch, Stella? You want something? Sit down.”

Stella looked at me. I raised my eyebrows and shrugged and Stella took that as a yes. She sat down as I slapped together a ham and cheese sandwich for her.

“How you doing?” Billy asked her.

“I'm just fine, Pastor,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

He nodded. “I'm okay,” he said. “I'm here on this beautiful day, helping a friend, hugging babies, and eating the best ham and cheese sandwich I've ever had.”

“The brownies aren't half bad either,” Stella said, “if I do say so myself.” She looked at me. “Where's that beautiful baby boy?”

Maybe it was because Billy was helping us out, and Stella had supplied brownies. Maybe generosity was the word of the day.
Maybe
, Grand said,
you could do something nice too
. I pulled Travis's bottle from its boiling pot and tested it for warmth and said to Stella, “This will be cool enough in a couple of minutes,” I said. “You want to feed him?”

“I would love to feed him,” Stella said, her voice filled with quiet surprise.

She took the foil off the brownies for Bud and Billy. They each grabbed two. Bud handed one to a wide-eyed Arlee, snatched her from her high chair, and they all headed out into the sunshine. I tested the milk for temperature, lowered Travis into Stella's arms, and handed her the bottle.

Stella crooned something to a contented Travis, who moved his pudgy hands in the air in a way that reminded me of kittens kneading on their mother's tummy.

“He's so beautiful,” Stella whispered. “Is oo a pretty boy? Whose pwiddy boy is oo?”

The high pitch in her voice and her baby talk irritated me and I lost the urge to be kind. “Why did you bring the brownies over, really?” I asked.

She sighed. “To poison everyone,” she said. When I didn't smile, she
rolled her eyes. “Really, Florine, where does your sense of humor live? Is it even in the same zip code as the rest of us?” She looked back at Travis. “I wanted to see this widdle biddy boy. And to check on Billy.”

“Why?” I asked. “You after him now?”

“Oh, for crying out loud. No. I wanted to see how his cancer treatments were going. That okay with you?”

My heart dropped to my stomach. “Billy has cancer?”

“Well, yes,” Stella said. “I thought everyone knew it.”

“I didn't know it.”

Stella readjusted Travis in her arms. “Some kind of leukemia. He's had it for about a year. He just let the congregation know a week ago.”

That explained things. I didn't congregate. Ida and Maureen must have known, yet, they had kept it to themselves. Why hadn't they told me? I looked out of the kitchen window and saw them walking up our way. Sadness for Billy washed over me.

He was good people, as Grand would have said. Billy had come to our house late one night when Daddy had been at his worst, during that hell-ridden time after Carlie had disappeared, before Stella showed up. I had been at my wits' end, what with missing my mother and fearing what Daddy might do to himself. When Billy had knocked at the door late that night, most likely because Grand had called and asked for his help, I let him in. On that dark night he and Daddy had fought the devil head-on and forced him into an uneasy truce. Compassion. That would be a big word Edward might use. Well, I knew it too. Billy had shown compassion that night and I would never forget it. 

“It's too bad,” Stella was saying. “Can't think of how to thank him for helping me through my awful days and nights. Brownies seemed to be as good an answer as any.”

“I'm going into the garden,” I said, bending and reaching for Travis. “We can finish his bottle out there.” Stella got up from the chair and Travis and I followed her outside.

Billy sat on the grass beside Maureen. Ida and Bud sat next to each other, each leaning back in two of Grand's Adirondack chairs. I
handed Travis and his bottle to Bud and sat down on the arm of his chair. He snuggled our son in his arms. Stella dragged a lawn chair up to complete our little ragged circle.

“Almost the Fourth,” Billy said. “Razzle-dazzle on the beach this year?”

“Ray's got a few things up his sleeve,” Bud said.

“I might come down and bless the works this year,” Billy said.

“Someone will probably roast a pig,” Ida said.

“I can bless the pig too,” Billy said.

“And the potato salad?” Maureen said.

“If it has lots of mustard in it,” Billy said.

We spun out conversation and the pauses in between as delicately as a spider web. No one mentioned cancer. We watched Arlee run across the lawn, the early afternoon sun twisting her fine hair into thin copper wires. Her little legs blurred against the summer grass. At one point she climbed up onto Billy's lap and hollered, “Biffy Jeezus!” Billy's eyes filled and he blinked to clear them. “I don't believe anyone has ever said anything so nice to me before,” he said, and hugged her.

We sat there until the heat drove us further into our own
days.