We had a outdoor get-together Saturday afternoon that stretched into the evening hours. Besides all of us McFaddens, and the same-as-McFaddens,
namely Kristin and Nancy, some of the neighbors dropped by, too, and of course, Marie.
The surprise guest of the evening was Crane's mystery lady. There was nobody more surprised than me when he came back with her in the Jeep.
Though later, I thought that I shouldn't have been that surprised. There'd been enough hints if I'd chosen to look for them. But my mind had been on
other things lately.
When she climbed out of the Jeep, and walked across the yard with Crane, she was wearing jeans and a yellow sweater, and looked entirely
different from the way I was used to seeing her.
"Hello, Harlie," she greeted me.
"Hi, Miss Noel," I said.
"Cindy," she told me with a smile.
"Cindy," I said, and smiled back.
Crane looked happy. Almost lit up inside.
As the sun started to descend, I followed Hannah as she went into the house, to carry more food out. It had been unamimously decided
for a bonfire to be built, and Hannah had gone in search of marshmallows to roast.
She began going thru the cabinets in the pantry. "It seems as though I saw some marshmallows around here," she said.
"Me, too," I agreed. "But I bet the boys ate them already."
"Hmmm," she said, hesitating and leaning against the cabinet in thought.
"Maybe there's some in the freezer downstairs," I suggested.
"Maybe so. Would you go see?" she asked me.
"Okay," I said, and went down the back stairs to the basement. I turned on the all the lights and went to the freezer against the far
wall. It's so old that the lid has to be propped up with a board to hold it open. I did that, and then stepped onto a wooden stool to lean over and start
sorting thru the freezer. Packed with meat, and vegetables from our garden that Hannah had bagged up, I hadn't moved very much before my
hands were feeling frozen.
"Find anything?" Hannah called down to me.
"Not yet," I called back. "I don't think we have any."
"I'll see if one of the boys will go get some," Hannah said. "Go on and come back up, sweetie. I'm going back out."
"Okay," I called to her.
I started to step down from the stool, and bumped the board, and, of course, predictably, the lid fell with a vengeance on the top of my head.
I swore, "Bat shit! Bat shit!"
I stepped down, rubbing my head, and tossed the board across the room for good measure. It fell against the wall and hit a metal storage cabinet,
making a loud, clanging noise.
In a fury of temper I began to pick up nearby items and fling them at the cabinet, enjoying the sound. I had just flung two plastic buckets at it,
and when they didn't make a loud enough noise to suit me, I picked up the wooden stool. I had it raised above my head, ready to toss,
when there was a clearing of somebody's throat.
I turned, startled, to see Brian standing there. He was leaning on the bannister, watching.
I lowered the stool down to my side. "How long have you been standing there?" I asked him.
"Long enough."
"I thought everybody was outside," I said.
"I came in to get some more lemonade."
"Oh," I said, feeling embarrassed. He was regarding me with a serious expression, but he didn't look angry.
"Maybe it's a good thing that I came back inside, huh?" he asked. "So I could save that innocent cabinet from bein' murdered?"
I gave him a half-smile. "Yeah. Maybe so," I said, and set the stool on the floor.
Brian came down the last couple of steps, and walked closer, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
"You're pretty angry, huh, peach?"
"Yeah. I am." There was a certain relief in saying it, out loud that way, at last.
"The custody thing, mostly?" he asked.
"Mostly." I sighed. "And anything that has to do with it."
"It'll pass," he said.
"Not soon enough."
He gave me a sad sort of look, as if he wasn't sure what to say. "I'm mad, too," he offered.
"Yeah?" I asked, looking at him with interest.
"Yeah. I'm pissed as hell. If I could, I'd take care of it in my own way. But, since that's not an option, we're just gonna have to
wait it out."
"You could take care of it your way," I said, only half-joking.
"I could, but I don't think the judge would be pleased."
"I guess not," I said.
"I'd end up behind bars, most likely," Brian said.
"That would be bad," I said, and this time I smiled at him for real. We'd crossed from serious to what I knew was joking.
Brian took the end of my braid in his hand and twirled it back and forth.
"I don't look so good in stripes," he said, and winked at me.
"No," I said, going along with his teasing. "Stripes definitely are not a good look for you."
"Yeah?" he countered.
"Yeah," I said, and he wrapped his arm around my neck, rubbing the top of my head with his knuckles.
7
On Monday afternoon, when Guthrie and I got home from school, and went inside to change our clothes, Hannah was there
to greet us, as usual.
She asked about our day, just like always, but I felt as though there was something off about her. She seemed to be forcing
herself to act cheerful.
"How does tacos sound for supper?" she asked us.
"Sounds good," Guthrie said.
"Fine," I echoed.
As she went back off towards the kitchen, Guthrie and I exchanged looks.
"Now what?" I asked.
Guthrie shrugged, and we went our separate ways. When I was finishing with feeding the goats, and closing the gate, I saw Adam and Crane
coming up thru the pasture on four wheelers. Crane waved, and I waved back.
They parked, and got off, and then stood talking for a few minutes. Nothing unusual in that, so I stopped paying attention. I was scratching Elwood P.
Dowd's head when they both started walking my direction.
They came to lean on the fence, and I squeezed thru the center of the fence.
"Hi," I greeted them.
"Hey," Adam said.
"How was school?" Crane asked.
I shrugged. "Okay."
"You got a lot of homework?" Crane asked.
"Some. Another quiz in biology tomorrow. And a test in English to study for."
"Okay. I'll help you study for the biology."
"Okay."
I sensed it rather than being certain. Maybe I was just getting so that I expected something to always be happening to cause turmoil. It wasn't a fun
way to live.
"Has something else happened?" I asked.
"John called today," Adam began.
"Bad news?" I asked anxiously. "I swear, if it is-"
"Settle down," Adam said. "John says everything's going along about like he'd expect."
"Oh," I said. "Well, then what is it? Because I can tell from your faces that it's something."
"The woman from family services, Ms. Barbee?" Adam began.
"Barber," I corrected.
"Barber. She apparently got the impression that you were reluctant to talk in front of Guthrie the other day."
I stood there, staring at Adam in temporary disbelief. "You're kidding."
"No. That's what she said, I guess."
"Well, that's just stupid!" I said with spirit.
"She'd like to talk to you again. Alone," Adam said.
"No way!" I said, raising my voice.
When they both just stood there, looking at me with similar sad and sympathetic expressions, I straightened to my full height.
"I'm not going to do it!" I announced.
Adam reached out and rubbed my shoulder. "Settle down," he said again.
He was looking at me full-on, his eyes sad, and kind.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. "Do I have to, Adam?" I asked, all my bluster gone as quickly as it had come.
"John says it's not something the court will require. You've already talked once."
"Okay. That's good," I said, in relief.
"Uh huh," Adam said, but again I sensed something more.
"Is it something I should do, though?" I asked then. "I mean, will it hurt the case if I don't?"
"John doesn't think so," Adam said.
"Okay."
We walked towards the house together, and once we were inside, I got started on my homework. After supper, I spent the rest of the
evening studying for biology, and working on an essay for my Wednesday night class. When I was getting ready to head up to bed, I paused
beside the edge of the couch, where Adam was sitting beside Hannah, a cup of coffee in his hand.
"Going to bed, sweetie?" Hannah asked.
"Yeah." I hesitated. "Adam?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think I should talk to Ms. Barber again?"
Adam looked up at me. "I told you, John said you don't have to."
"I know. But I'm asking what you think."
Adam's face softened a little. "No. I don't think you need to."
"Okay," I said, feeling a little better.
I gave them both a hug and went up the stairs to bed. I was tired, and I went to sleep right away, I think. Sometime later I woke up,
a nagging headache beginning. I went downstairs the back way, to the kitchen, where I got a glass of juice, and shook a couple of Tylenol
out of the bottle that was kept in the kitchen window. I swallowed them and then took my glass of juice and went thru to the living room.
Only one of the lamps was still on, and I heard voices coming from the front porch.
I was close enough that I could catch snippets of the conversation thru the screen door. Enough to know that it was Brian. And Adam.
I was fairly certain I heard my name. I stepped closer to the door, staying to the side so they wouldn't see me.
It was hard to make out for certain, but I thought that it was Brian's shadow standing, and Adam sitting in the porch swing.
"You can't, Adam," Brian was saying.
There was a sound then, a strange sound. Like choking almost.
"I don't know how I'd let her go," Adam said, in a raspy sounding voice.
"Lord, no, neither do I," Brian said.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to hold back my own emotions. They were talking about me. I was sure of it. And Adam was-crying? Or
at least he was close to it, it sounded like.
"She's our baby, Brian," Adam said then, and his voice broke. "Our baby."
"I'm tellin' you, there's nothing or nobody that's gonna take any of our kids from us. You hear me?" Brian said, his voice rough, and I
saw his shadow lean towards Adam's.
"Yeah," Adam said, sounding hoarse, like somebody does as they start losing their voice to laryngitis.
I heard their boots scuffing the porch floor, and I turned to race up the stairs, not wanting them to know that I'd overheard them talking.
I spilled some of the juice as I ran, but I didn't stop to clean it up. I made it to my room, shutting the door, and setting the glass down before
I lost control of myself. I buried my face in my pillow, and cried.
My strong, solid brothers, who'd always seemed larger than life to me. To see them, lost in their own fear and sadness that way. Grieving. Worrying. In their own need.
I cried until there was nothing left, and then I laid awake, staring at the ceiling, and making plans. I knew what I had to do.
7
