Written on My Heart (30 page)

F
riday night, Bud hobbled up from Ida's at about midnight.

He woke me up out of a sound sleep with a gentle shake and a whispered, “Florine.”

I stared up at what I could see of his face in the murky dark. “What's wrong?” I said. He pulled back the covers.

“Bud, I don't want to—”

“Come down to the porch. I want to talk to you,” he said.

“Talk to me here.”

“I don't want to whisper,” he said.

I followed him downstairs even as sleep pulled me backward. We walked through the living room, hall, and kitchen and ended up on the porch in side-by-side rocking chairs. “Do you want some tea?” he asked.

“No, I want to go back to bed.”

“What I have to say won't take long,” he said.

“Okay, what?” I said. I yawned.

He drew in a ragged breath and let it out. “I called Billy today and he's getting me into an AA meeting. I'm going, Florine. I can't lose you and the kids. I know you want to live here and that's fine. I want to live with you. I can figure something else out. If you want to work at Ray's, you can work at Ray's. You can do whatever you want to do. Just don't leave me.”

His eyes glittered in the small light cast by the half-moon hanging high overhead.

I wanted to throw my arms around him and say yes, yes, yes, but instead, I said, “Go to the AA meeting. Let's take our time. I want to live with you too. You know the conditions.”

“I know,” he said. “You're being a hardass, and I guess you got a right to be. I guess that's one reason I love you. You got my word that what's been happening is going to stop. I promise.”

“I don't care about your promises. I care about you being sober.”

We rocked back and forth for a minute or so.

“You sending me back to Ida's?” Bud said.

“I am tonight,” I said.

He stopped rocking and looked at me. “Okay,” he said.

We kissed good night at the door and I watched him hobble down the path. It was all I could do not to call him back to me. Instead, I forced myself inside and walked upstairs.

“Mama?” Arlee called.

I walked into her room. Travis was sound asleep. “What is it?” I asked my daughter.

“I want Daddy,” she said.

“He'll be home soon,” I told her. We walked across the hall and cuddled for the rest of the night.

Ida let herself into the house early on Saturday morning. She stood and watched me try to cram sneakers onto Arlee's restless feet.

“I can do it,” Arlee said, so I let her put them onto the wrong feet and tangle the laces before I untangled them and put them on the right feet. I double-knotted them, as my mother had done for me.

“I heard Bud leave last night,” Ida said.

“Then I guess you heard him come back too,” I said.

“I did,” she said. “He's still in bed. The sleep will do him good.”

Arlee pointed to her feet and said to Ida, “I did this myself.”

Ida smiled. “You have a wonderful imagination,” she said to Arlee.

“Do you want some tea?” I said.

“Love some,” Ida said, and we went into the kitchen. I put on the kettle for her.

Travis, who had been crawling around his toys on the floor, followed
his grandmother into the kitchen. When Ida sat down at the table, he pulled himself up. She set him on her lap. “Billy's coming down this morning to talk to Bud about things,” she said.

I said, “Bud told me he called him yesterday. Said Billy was going to get him into an AA meeting.”

Ida looked at me. “I called Billy a few days ago. Billy said Bud needed to take the first step. I'm happy he's done it.”

I nodded. “How is Billy?”

“He's much better,” Ida said. “Back to performing services.”

“You took good care of him. He's lucky to have had you do that.”

“Maureen helped. I think she has a crush on him. She's been moody since he left.”

I'll bet, I thought. The phone rang. It was Robin, asking if she could come down to visit. She asked how Bud was doing. He was doing much better, I told her, and I would love to have her visit.

I hung up the phone and joined Ida, again. She said, “My son is lucky to be alive.”

“Damn lucky.”

“It's hard to know what to do. Obviously he can't handle hard liquor the way his father couldn't handle hard liquor. Sam blacked out too sometimes. Didn't remember what he had done or said.”

“I know what to do, Ida. I expect Bud to shape up.”

She nodded. “Of course you do. He's lucky to have a strong woman in his life.”

“Two strong women,” I said.

Ida looked down at Travis. He grinned at her and pulled her nose.

“Can I get a cup of coffee?” Bud said from the kitchen doorway.

“Daddy!” Arlee shouted, and ran to show him the sneakers she had tied.

Robin, Arlee, and I took a walk later that day, up over The Cheeks—soon to be
My
Cheeks—and up the path that led to the park. Little hunks of snow humped up here and there, but we kicked it aside and kept walking.

“You excited about California?” I asked Robin.

“For now, I guess it's where I want to be. It's nice to be near Dad, and I love Valerie.”

“You might miss the seasons.”

“I might.”

“You might need somewhere to stay when you come to visit.”

Robin smiled. “I might,” she said.

“I might have a place for you.”

“No offense, but your house is about filled up.”

“I'm talking about Daddy's house.”

“What do you mean?”

I told her, and we grabbed hands and jumped up and down.

“Me too,” Arlee said, and we all jumped up and down. Then we walked on.

“You know, you should rent it out. You'll need the income. It shouldn't be empty,” Robin said.

“I haven't even told Bud,” I said. “We'll have to talk about what to do with it.”

“You should have told him before you told me.”

“I couldn't wait anymore. I only found out yesterday and I'm rolling it around in my head.”

I wanted to show Robin my secret place, and so we skirted the brush and took the path that led to the Barringtons'. A large crow flew toward us. The closer it came, the lower it flew, until Robin and I ducked. The satiny brush of a black wing touched my cheek as the bird rose again.

“What the hell?” I said.

“Jesus crow,” said Arlee.

“That was weird,” Robin said. “In Ireland, crows represent war and death on the battlefield.”

“That's gloomy,” I said. “And we're not in Ireland.”

“We're Irish. Your mother is Irish.”

“I want to go, Mama,” Arlee said.

“Me too,” I agreed, and the three of us trotted back to the main path and walked to the bench. We watched the water flow for a few minutes, but we couldn't shake the creepy feeling surrounding the low-flying crow, so we headed back toward the house.

When we reached The Cheeks, Robin and I jumped down. As I reached up to help Arlee, we heard two women screeching at each other from Daddy's house.

“Don't you dare!” (Stella's voice.)

“Ain't yours to dare me.” (Grace.)

“Grace, those are mine.”

“No, they ain't. They never was.”

“I want to get rid of them.”

“Not yours to get rid of.”

“What do you care? Please, give them to me.”

“She should know.”

“She doesn't need to know. She's got enough problems.”

“I'm giving them to her.”

Thumps in the house, then a yell, as if someone had been hurt. The front door opened and the screen door whined, and then slammed. Slammed again. “
No!
” Stella hollered. “Give those to me.”

“Let's see what's going on,” I said, and Robin, Arlee, and I ran around the house to the sight of the two sisters tug-of-warring at a wad of paper.

“Hey,” I yelled, “cut it out.” Stella and Grace stopped and looked at me. Another door slammed as Bud crossed the road from our house. Billy, who had evidently come to visit Bud while Robin and I had been walking, followed him.

“What the hell is going on?” Bud said.

Grace ignored him. “I got some letters from someone to your mother,” she said to me.

“They're nothing,” Stella said. “I was going to burn them.”

“Whatever they are, they belong to Florine. Hand them over,” Bud said. With his busted-up face and battered body, no one sane would
have argued with him. The trouble was, neither sister wanted to be the first to let go, so Bud grabbed the letters from between them. A couple of them fluttered to the ground and Stella snatched them up. Bud held out his hand.

“They're nothing, really, Bud,” she said.

“Yes, they are,” I said. “What are they?”

Stella sighed. “Oh, Florine,” she said.

“What are they, Stella?” I yelled.

“Oh, they're stupid, really. They're letters to Carlie from Edward Barrington. If she'd wanted you to have them, I'm sure she would have given them to you.”

“Maybe she would have if she hadn't disappeared, Stella. Give Bud the letters.”

“Florine, stay calm,” Billy said. I glared at him.

“Mama,” Arlee whimpered, and I lowered my voice.

“Are those the letters someone has been sending me?” I asked.

“Oh, honey,” Stella said. Her face crumpled and she sat down on the front steps. “Why does it matter now?” But she handed them over to Bud.

“Thank you, Stella,” Billy said. Bud scowled at all of us and said, “I'm going back across the road.” He limped away, Billy talking to him as they walked.

I said to Stella, “Anything having to do with Carlie will always matter. Always.”

“I sent you some,” Grace said.

I stared into her plain face. “What?” I said.

“I sent you some,” she said.

“You sent them? Why the hell did you do that?” I said.

Grace shrugged. “You been so mean to Stella.”

“What?” Stella and I said at the same time.

I walked toward Grace. “What's between Stella and me has nothing to do with you.” Blood does boil. I know it does, because mine was about to blow out of the top of my head.

Grace said, “You're an awful person. Treated your father so bad he died early. You walk around this place like you own it, but this is Stella's house and you made her feel so bad . . .”

Stella said, “Grace . . .” just as I slapped her across the face with my right hand, and then my left one. Arlee screamed, “Mama!” as Grace, who evidently had been a boxer at some time in her mysterious life, smacked me in the left eye, hard, and I went down.

Then Bud was somehow there again with Billy, who backed the Drowns sisters into the house while Bud helped me up and hustled Robin, a shrieking Arlee, and me into Grand's
house.

R
obin went for the freezer and cracked open a couple of trays of ice cubes. She rinsed out a clean dishcloth and tied some cubes inside of it. “Here,” she said. “Hold this against your eye.”

I did what she said and bent down to Arlee's level. My little girl was shaking.

“Mama's okay,” I said. “I shouldn't have hit Grace.” Arlee wrapped her legs around my waist. I picked her up and we both sat down on a kitchen chair.

“Anyplace else hurt?” Robin asked.

“My hands sting,” I said.

“Fuck were you thinking?” Bud growled.

“Grace sent her the letters,” Robin started to explain.

“I'm not asking you, Robin,” Bud said. “I'm asking my wife.”

“Grace sent those letters,” I repeated.

“Nut job,” Bud said. “Nut freakin' job.” His eyes crackled with anger. “Look,” he said, “only you would pick a fight with the craziest woman on Earth. And I'm so damn sick of all of this. We got to figure this out. You want me to move on and quit drinking? Okay, then, you get this shit settled, so we can both just stop fiddle-farting around with ‘where the hell is Carlie?' Christ on a crutch, this needs to go away.”

“Daddy's mad,” Arlee observed from my lap.

“I don't blame him,” I said. “He's right.”

“You think I'm right?” Bud said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, Hal-the fucking-lujah.” He threw his arms into the air, and then flinched.

“Bud, how are you feeling?” Robin asked. “I drove down to see how you were.”

“Like I've been hit by a car, but otherwise good.”

“If you don't mind, I'd like to look at your scrapes and cuts before I leave.”

Bud nodded. “Thanks,” he said. “Thanks for everything.”

The front door opened and closed. Billy walked into the kitchen with Stella and Grace in tow. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Are you kidding me?” I said to Billy.

Billy held his hand up. “Be charitable,” he said.

“Why should I? They—”

“Because Grand would want you to,” Billy said.

Dammit, I thought. Yes, she would.

“I want to explain,” Stella said.

Robin said, “Well, we were just saying that we'd all like to get this settled, so why don't you two sit down at the table.”

“Just talk. Then go,” I said. I said to Arlee, “Mama's going to talk to Stella and Grace. Think you can go in the other room and color for a little while? Maybe you can make Robin a nice picture?”

Arlee stomped over to Grace and hit her leg. “Leave Mama alone,” she said.

“Say you're sorry to Grace,” Bud said, picking her up. “You should never hit anyone, and you shouldn't swear.”

“Mama did.”

“That was bad for Mama to do,” I said. “Say you're sorry to Grace.”

“You first,” Arlee said to me. Billy ducked his head to hide a smile.

I frowned at Grace and said, “I'm saying I'm sorry because it's the right thing to do.”

“Least you're doing it,” Grace said, and I fought to keep myself in the chair.

“Now, Arlee,” I said, taking a deep breath, “tell Grace you're sorry.”

“Sorry,” she said to Grace.

“Okay then,” Robin said. “Can we all sit down?”

We all sat.

“Everyone set?” Billy asked.

“Let's get this over with,” Bud said.

“I'll be quick,” Stella said. “I found these letters upstairs in the house, tucked away in back of an eave, when Leeman and I were turning it into a sewing room.” She looked up at me. “I didn't want to show them to Leeman. It would have broken his heart.” She touched the pile of letters. “I only read one. I don't know what the rest of them said because I didn't open them. But the one I looked at was full of . . . well, things that . . .”

“I'm not going to read them,” I said. “I'll turn them over to Parker. He already has her letters to him. I didn't read those either. Why didn't you burn them if you didn't want Daddy to know about them? Why didn't you throw them out?”

“Oh, I was going to do it,” Stella said. “But someone held me back.” She looked at me. “Your mother haunts that house,” she said. “Everywhere I turn, it seems like she stands just outside the corner of my eye. I swear, sometimes, I can smell her perfume. I've tried to paint her out, redo the house to confuse her, anything to get rid of her, but of course I never will because she always sat first in Leeman's heart. After Leeman died, she didn't go away. And she's still there. It was her that told me to keep the letters. Somehow, Grace got a hold of them and thought she'd do something stupid and wrong.”

“Wasn't wrong,” Grace said.

“It was,” Stella said, sharp as sleet. “It was very wrong. You had no right to do it. And I want you to apologize to Florine, Grace.”

“I did it because she—”

“I don't care what you think she did, Grace,” Stella said, raising her voice. “Say you're sorry.”

Grace pressed her lips together.

“Say you're sorry.”

A tear rolled down her stony cheek. “I'm sorry,” Grace whispered, and she got up and left the house. I saw her walk across the road from the kitchen window, her head down, her arms at her sides.

“I can't figure her out,” I said.

Stella sighed. “I know. No one can. She's the oldest out of four of us sisters. She jumped off a cliff on a dare near our house when we were small. She's lucky she lived, but she hurt her brain. My sisters and I take turns taking her in.”

“We never talked about your family,” I said.

“We never talked about a lot of things,” Stella said. “I regret that. I really do. Anyway, we all love Grace, but we've all had to apologize for her actions at one time or another. Grace can function—she drives and so on—but she doesn't have the personality to be able to work for long without offending someone. She's very blunt.”

“No kidding,” I said.

“She's overly protective and we have to be careful what we say when we're around her. She's also nosy and she watches too many detective stories on television. She found the letters during one of her stays with me. I told her they were private, but she knows we have a history. I guess she thought she'd shake you up by sending the letters to you.”

“What about the postmarks? There were different postmarks,” I said.

“From where?”

“Lewiston. Freeport. Long Reach.”

“Frances lives in Lewiston. Judy lives in Freeport.”

“That explains it,” I said.

“I'm sorry,” Stella said again. “I'm always sorry around you for something.”

“It'll be dull around here without you,” I said. Stella looked up and we shared a smile.

“You too,” she said. “Then you want the house? Have you talked it over with Bud?”

“I haven't had a chance,” I said. I looked at him. “Stella wants to sell us the house . . .”

Bud snorted. “We can't afford it.”

“For a dollar.”

He looked at Stella. “What?” he said. “
What?
”

“That's what I said,” I said. “She's getting married to someone who lives in New Hampshire. She wants us to have the house.”

Bud thought about that for a few seconds. “Buy it,” he said. A twinge of pain crossed his face.

“You need to rest,” Robin said.

“I know, but I can't get up,” Bud said. “You're all killing me.”

Robin scraped back her chair and went over to him. I stood up as he did. He let Robin take his elbow. The stair risers creaked as they took it slowly.

Stella stood up. “It's settled then. I'll have movers take away the stuff and the house will be cleared out and you won't have to bother with it.”

“Just take what you want,” I said. “I'll deal with the rest later.”

“Good,” Stella said.

Forgive
, Grand said. I sighed. “Why don't we forgive each other before you go?”

Stella said, “I would love that. Should we shake hands?”

“That's okay,” I said. We smiled at each other and she left.

Billy said, “That was a good thing you did. Now you can go forward.”

“Grand made me do it,” I grumbled. “Thank you for talking to Bud,” I said. “I hope it takes.”

“I hope so too,” Billy said. “He knows what he's got in his life, and he's determined to keep it. He knows you mean what you say. He loves you. You're one of a kind.”

I blushed and looked down at the pile of unopened letters. The risers creaked again as Robin came back downstairs.

“What are you going to do with these, really?” Robin said.

“I'm going to give them to Parker, just like I said.”

“I don't think we've met,” Billy said to Robin.

“I'm Florine's cousin, Robin Collins,” she said.

“I'm Billy Krum. Baptist preacher, lobsterman, carpenter, cancer survivor, world-class sinner, poker player, and, let's see, anything else?”

“An angel,” Arlee yelled. She ran to him and he snapped her up.

“No angel,” he said to her. “Not by a long shot, pumpkin.”

“Come on upstairs, Billy,” Bud called from the upstairs landing.

“On my way,” Billy said.

“Tea?” I asked. “Coffee?”

“No thanks,” Billy said. “Nice to meet you, Robin,” he said, and he headed upstairs.

Robin looked at me. “A lot just happened,” she said.

“Yeah. A lot always happens,” I said.

Arlee said, “I want ice cream.” Travis woke up and whined for me. I headed upstairs to get him.