Since my mom hadn't been born and raised around Murphys, I was puzzled. I looked at the woman
more closely. There was something about her. Something around her eyes. It wasn't that she was
familiar to me or anything. I knew I'd never seen her before, but there was something that I couldn't
quite put my finger on.
A sudden thought occurred to me. My mom had gone to college for a year before she married
my dad at eighteen. This lady looked a lot older than what my mom's age would be if she'd lived, but maybe she'd been a teacher or something.
"Did you meet her at college?" I asked.
"Oh, no," the lady said, looking a little sad. "I knew her well before that. I knew your mother all
her life."
"I thought you said you'd never been to Murphys before." Now I really was puzzled.
"I said I'd never been here," she said, gesturing to the Dari Kurl building. "But Murphys? Yes, I've been
here, I'm sorry to say."
She sounded a little bitter. And saying it like that? 'I'm sorry to say'? What did she have against
Murphys?
"How did you know my mom?" I asked.
The lady smiled, just a little. But it was a sad smile. "That's a question that I want very much
to answer, Harlie. But it will take more than a few minutes. Could we sit and talk for awhile?"
This entire thing was strange. She was being so mysterious.
"I'm done with work in a few minutes," I said, "but I'm supposed to be heading home-"
"Oh, yes," she said. Again there was what sounded like a bitter tone to her voice. "To your brothers."
I wrinkled my forehead at her. She knew about my brothers, too? Before I could say anything she spoke again, "A few minutes of conversation should be alright, surely?"
I knew that I was going to stay to talk to her. There was no way that I wasn't going to stay, even if it meant
being late getting home.
But all I said right then was, "I'll get your order for you."
I walked back to the building, ignoring the honking and yelling of all the kids parked
around the Dari Kurl parking lot. I turned the order in to Mike. Then I went in the tiny back room,
where there's a little sink, and hooks to hang jackets on. I took a paper towel, and ran water on it,
dabbing at my face. I felt flushed, and my heart was racing in excitement.
Who was this woman? How was she connected with my mom? And with me, enough to know
my name? I went back out, and took a couple more orders. I kept looking toward the white car,
halfway expecting her to have disappeared, be gone before I could find out what was going on.
But she stayed, parked in the same spot. I went to pick up her order, and told Mike that I
would be leaving as soon as I brought back the money for it.
He peered at the clock on the wall. "Still have twenty minutes," he said.
"Oh, for gosh sakes," I said. "I don't care! No wonder Betsy walked out on you. You're
impossible."
He was staring at me, as I grabbed the order and walked back to the white car.
"Here's your order," I said, a little breathlessly.
She took the sack, and handed me a twenty. "I'll get your change," I told her, and
hiked back to the building.
I handed Mike the twenty, and grumbling, he made change. When he went back to his cooking,
I reminded him he owed me for my four hours of work.
Mumbling again, something about ungrateful kids, he punched at the cash register again, and
handed me my eighteen dollars.
When I said goodbye, he didn't say it back. I didn't particularly care, though.
I slung my jacket over my arm, and made my way back to the driver's side of the car.
I stood there, and we looked at each other for a long moment, until she said,
"I'm Karissa."
I nodded, handing her the change, and when we were still looking at one another after another long moment, she said,
"Why don't you sit in here with me? It will be easier to talk that way."
"Okay." I went around to the passenger side, and opened the door, settling myself into
the seat. Even at that moment, when I was nervous, and curious and excited all at the same time,
I noticed the opulence of the interior of the car. The seats were leather, and the dash boasted
all sorts of fancy gadgets.
I noticed that the sack of food that I'd brought her was still sitting unopened in the seat. She was,
however, holding her cup of water. She turned in the seat to face me.
"I can't get over how much you resemble your mother," she said, studying me so intently
that I felt a little uncomfortable. "You could be her mirror image at sixteen."
Then, in an abrupt change of subject, she said, "How long have you worked here?"
"Since yesterday."
"I see."
I'd had enough of her dancing around the issue, dangling what she had to tell me like a carrot in
front of a horse.
"Please tell me about how you knew my mom."
Karissa took a deep breath. "Alright. This isn't easy for me, Harlie. I'd like you to keep in mind
that I personally felt that you should have known."
My stomach clenched in nerves. "Known what?"
"About your mother's family. What have you been told?"
"Umm, her parents died when my brother Adam was a baby."
"That's true. What else do you know?"
"No sisters or brothers. She was an only child."
"She didn't have brothers, that's true. But she did have a sister. Me."
I stared at her, open-mouthed. My mind began to jump around, latching onto possibilities.
Maybe my grandpa had been married before he married my grandma. Or something.
Before I could ask, she guessed my intent. "Not a stepsister. Not a half-sister. We were
sisters, with the same parents. We grew up in the same house. I was a lot older, yes, but we
were sisters."
I was so stunned and surprised that I didn't say anything.
After a few moments of silence, Karissa said, "It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"
"Yeah." I couldn't wrap my mind around it. I'd grown up with my brothers, and that
was it. No grandparents. No aunts or uncles. No cousins. Just the eight of us. Until Hannah
had come along. I'd asked when I was little why we didn't have grandparents like other
kids, and Adam and Brian had told us that both sets of grandparents had passed away.
When there was grandparents day at school, Marie had always gone for Ford and Guthrie
and I.
"I wanted you to know. You and Guthrie. But Adam-" her voice hardened, "Adam and Brian,
they didn't feel that I was a fit influence, a proper aunt for you kids."
"You tried to see us? Guthrie and me?"
"Yes. And Ford, too. But they said that I couldn't-"
"Why? Why would they say that?"
"Something about not wanting you kids mixed up, or some nonsense like that."
I was still staring at her, puzzling this over in my head. It didn't make sense. Why would
Brian and Adam have kept an aunt from us kids? An aunt that wanted to be a part of our
lives?
"They were very insistent about it. They told me to stay away from you, and to let
you grow up without any interference," she went on.
"That doesn't sound right," I said, slowly. "I mean, it doesn't sound like Adam at all. Having
you around would have helped them. It would have made their lives easier."
"Well," Karissa hesitated, "I'm certainly not going to say that I wasn't at fault with
some things. But I've always felt that they shouldn't have lied to you-"
"I don't think they lied about you. Exactly," I said, trying to remember just what
Brian and Adam had said about aunts and uncles.
"They didn't tell you that you had family-that you had an aunt who
would have taken care of you-" she objected.
"I don't remember exactly what they said," I told her, taking offense at her choice of
words. "But they wouldn't have done it without a good reason. I know that for sure."
Karissa took a measured glance at me. "You're very loyal to your brothers," she said,
sounding like she wasn't entirely pleased by that. "Of course that's only natural, growing
up like you have, in this God-forsaken town, with only a houseful of men-"
I'd heard enough insults about my brothers. I sat up straight and looked her
right in the eye. "They did a good job with me! I always had everything I needed!"
"Yes, but you could have had so much more. A woman's touch. You needed that. No little
girl should grow up in a house with all males. Without any sort of tenderness, or the care
you deserved," she said.
"I got the best care any kid could have," I told her. "I thought you were going to talk
about my mom. That's what I wanted to hear about. Not insults about my brothers!" I got out
of the car, and started to walk off, towards my own truck.
"Harlie, wait! Please don't go." she called after me.
She sounded genuinely distressed, and I stopped walking, to turn around. She'd gotten
out of the car, too, and I was surprised by how tall she was. Much taller than my mom had
been, according to what I'd been told.
"I shouldn't have said those things about Brian and Adam. There's just so much
that I want to say to you. I handled it wrong. Please stay and talk to me," she said.
I hesitated. "I'd like to hear about my mom." That was truly an understatement. I
was craving to hear things about her. Aching to hear things. But not, I thought, at
the expense of my brothers being berated.
"Yes. Alright. There's so many things about her that I can tell you," she assured me.
"Okay." But just to make things clear, I added, "But I don't want you to talk
about my brothers like that. They're really great."
"Alright, Harlie," she said.
So I got back into the car with her. And she talked. Being ten years older than my mom,
she told me in great detail about the day that they'd brought mom home from the hospital as a newborn,
and then she told me about the kind of childhood my mom had. Things that she'd liked to
do as a child.
"She was the roller skating champion of our neighborhood," Karissa said. "She really liked all
sports."
"She loved riding horses, too," I added.
"I don't know about that," she said, and that odd bitter tone was back in her voice. "She never
rode horses growing up. That probably happened after she met Adam."
I didn't have to ask to know that Karissa, for some reason, had not liked my father. It was evident in
her tone, and it was evident in her body posture, the way that she stiffened up when she said
his name.
I looked over towards my truck, and saw Myrna, leaning near to the windshield, then, obviously
seeing that I wasn't sitting in the truck, she looked around the parking lot.
I got out of the car, and called out to Myrna, "Are you looking for me?"
"Yes!" she called back. "Phone call for you!"
I knew immediately who was on the phone for me. I wasn't sure how long I'd been sitting there
talking to Karissa. But they would be wondering about me at home.
"I'll be back," I told Karissa, and ran up the small incline to the building.
Mike wasted no time in making a sharp comment as I burst inside.
"This is a business phone," he snapped, from his position behind the counter. "It's not
for personal calls."
"I'll make it fast," I told him.
He just scowled at me.
I picked up the receiver, not sure just what I was going to say. It wasn't as though I was going to
tell the family over the telephone that I was late because I'd met a long-lost relative that they'd never
bothered to tell me about.
"Hello?"
"You were supposed to leave there by five. Where the heck are you?"
"I'm sorry. I got to talking to someone, and I wasn't watching the time-" I began.
"Well, it's nearly six-thirty. We were getting worried."
"Sorry," I said again.
"Well, head on home now," Crane said.
"Okay. You're not mad, are you?"
"We were worried. But no, I'm not mad."
I said goodbye, and hung up the phone. Mike just scowled at me again, not bothering to
say anything.
I went back over to the car where Karissa was still sitting. She rolled down her window.
"I need to get going," I told her, feeling a little uncertain. What did I say now? Nice to meet you?
Thanks for stopping by to tell me that my mom had a sister? Have a nice life?
"Oh. I'd hoped we could talk a bit more." She looked disappointed.
I wanted that, too. After she'd stopped talking about my brothers, I'd enjoyed talking to her,
hearing about my mom, things I'd never known. I was greedy to hear more.
"Yeah. But they were worried about me at home. I was supposed to be home an hour
ago."
"I see," she said. "Could we meet again soon?"
"I think we can. I'll talk to my brothers."
"I was actually thinking that we should keep things between just us two. For right now," she said.
"I don't know," I said. "I think I'd feel kind of weird about that. I try not to lie to them. I mean-"
"I'm not suggesting that you lie," she hastened to interrupt me. "Just hold off a bit. Adam and
Brian won't be pleased that I've done this. Approached you this way."
"I think you're wrong about that. They'll understand. But alright, I'll wait to talk to them,"
I promised, and the sinking feeling in my stomach as I said it, well, that should have been an omen. A
sign of things to come. A sign that I shouldn't lie. A sign that I should go right home and tell
the family about meeting Karissa. It's too bad that I decided to ignore that sinking feeling. It would
have saved me from a lot of trouble.
7
