Authors: Shelley Noble
Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #General
Alden slipped past them into the house.
They were just coming inside when Alden returned to the kitchen. “I put your things in the hallway.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you for bringing her home,” Therese said. “Would you like something to eat, Alden? Coffee?”
“Thanks, but I have to run.”
He headed for the door. Meri followed him and stopped him before he could get away.
“You’ll have to talk to me at some point.”
“I know. But there’s plenty of time. Talk to your Gran first.” And he left her standing in the doorway. Like the coward he was.
I
hope what you learned last weekend isn’t responsible for your accident,” Gran said as she put a cup of chamomile tea on the table at Meri’s good elbow.
“No. It was the fault of some rusted bolts. Promise.”
Gran fidgeted. “Did you read the diary?”
“I’ve started on it. Mom’s handwriting was never the best, and it’s faded over the years. I’ve gotten to where you had to identify Riley at the . . .” Meri couldn’t continue. It sounded like a novel, not her life.
She changed the subject. “There is so much going on at work; the project is running out of money. We’ve had to move to a four-day workweek, so that’s why I decided to come home and stay with you.”
“This is where you should be.” Gran straightened up. “You just rest for a while.”
“Thanks.” Meri’s hand really hurt, but she’d opted for ibuprofen instead of the prescription painkillers because she wanted to read more of her mother’s diary. And then talk to Gran. And then talk to Alden.
She gave Gran a quick hug and went into the living room. Gran had piled cushions against the arm of the sofa and Meri settled into them, pulled an afghan over her knees, and opened the diary.
It’s hard to fathom but no one has come to claim that poor child. She’s lying in the morgue like a Jane Doe. But we know who she is. Or was. And Mother has convinced me that we should approach her parents; surely they must be out of their minds with worry, wondering where their daughter is.
Mother gave her name to the authorities. She didn’t mention Meri. We don’t want to lose that child to bureaucratic red tape. She wants me to return Meri to the family, but I reminded her that we promised Riley to take care of her. Mother is uneasy. She’s afraid that we’ve broken the law. I don’t care. I won’t let harm come to this precious baby.
Mother calls every day to see if the body has been claimed. And the answer is always the same. I know the family is in town, that the police have contacted them. What are they waiting for?
Meri was half aware of Gran coming into the archway then leaving again. What Meri really wanted to do was to get through the diary and pick her grandmother’s brain for what really happened in chronological order. If Gran could remember.
Mother insists we go to meet with the family. Insist they acknowledge Riley and the baby. I argued until I was hoarse, but she’s adamant. I finally agreed, but I insisted we not take Meri with us and not mention her until we were sure they would treat her right.
Mother made an appointment with them for three days from now. She told them what we wanted, and she said they almost refused to talk to her. I told Mother they must be monsters. But she said they probably thought we were running some kind of scam.
For being a farmer born and raised, my mother has some uncanny street smarts.
The next page was blank as if left for the passage of time, and when Meri turned to the next, it was several days later.
They tried to pay us off!
They accused us of lying, told us that their daughter had died on a trip to Europe and was buried over there in the family private cemetery. And how dare we attempt to extort money from them with these cruel lies. We were stunned. It was a bald-faced lie, and we all knew it. But the man and his wife didn’t waver. Just acted all starched up and looked down their noses at us like we were vermin that somehow had skittered into their grand mansion.
They threatened to call the police and, bless her, Mother said as cool as anything, Please do, they’ve been trying to contact you for days. I wanted to applaud.
They backed down then and Mr. Rochfort did try to buy us off. Which put Mother’s back up. I have to say, I’ve never seen her so fierce, and I was proud to stand beside her. I wasn’t nearly so brave. And then she said something that floored me. She told them we wouldn’t be bothering them again and that Riley and her baby were both buried in our family cemetery if they would like to visit.
Mrs. R flinched at that, and I had a hard time not bursting into tears, thinking of those lost lives. He said they wanted to hear no more about “this girl,” as he called her, or her bastard child, pretending that they weren’t his own daughter and grandchild. But he didn’t fool anyone in that room. Mrs. Rochfort just stood beside him, letting him talk for her. And I swore then and there they would never get Meri in their clutches. One glance at Mother told me she thought the same.
The servant showed us out. I was more than ready to go. As soon as we were on the street, I asked Mother why she had lied about Riley being buried. She just patted my arm and said, she will be. She went down to claim the body that afternoon.
We buried Riley today next to little Rose, just Mother and me and the Reverend Thomas. We only told him part of the story, that she was an unclaimed runaway, and we would be happy to give her our name. So she was buried as Riley Calder. I’m afraid I’ve broken the law but I don’t see any other way to proceed. Or maybe it’s that I don’t want to. I don’t think I could let go of little Merielle under any circumstance. She’s as precious to me, more so, than the premature child that lies next to Riley Rochfort in hallowed ground, a comfort to each other.
Mother arranged it all. I’m so awed by her strength and willingness to take in this child. But when I told her so, she said, don’t be ridiculous. How could we ever give this baby up?
Meri, you should grow up knowing how much you are loved. You are truly my daughter and Mother’s granddaughter and to hell with anyone who tries to prove differently.
Meri’s eyes were getting tired and her hand was hurting, and she was half tempted to take one of the prescription pain pills.
She skimmed over the next few pages in hopes that more pieces would fall into place, but they were all about taking care of the baby. Only one passage brought her out of her descending lethargy and made her forget all about her hand.
Alden comes every day to see Meri. He’s such a serious boy. He’ll sit by the crib just watching her. Yesterday she smiled at him, but instead of making him smile, it seemed to make him more unhappy. I think something is worrying him, but he won’t say what.
Today I found him standing over her while she slept, tears falling on the blanket. I asked him what was wrong? At first he only shook his head, then blurted out, “Did I kill her?”
I was stunned. Fortunately, Mother was in the room and she took charge of the situation. Sat him down and asked him what that nonsense was about. I guess trying to spare him, no one had told him about Riley being killed on the highway. He was so afraid he had killed her by dragging her into the dinghy then leaving her on the beach to come get help.
It took much persuasion to dissuade him that it wasn’t at all his fault and that he had been brave and managed what few people would or could have done. Then Mother gave him a softened version of what really had happened. It seemed to make him sadder. And I nearly cried myself when he asked in this quiet little voice. “And she left her baby?” Mother soothed him and after a while he returned to the crib and played with Meri until Mother told him it was time for him to go home. He leaned over and kissed Meri, and I heard him whisper. “Don’t worry, Meri. I’ll take care of you. I promise.” Mother and I looked at each other but said nothing. But we both watched out the window until he was home. He seemed less worried, but I’m afraid this whole incident may have scarred him for life.
Meri closed the diary. No wonder Alden didn’t want to talk about the past. Even reading about it seemed too intimate, and in a way she wished she hadn’t. She had never questioned his place in her life. He’d just always been there.
She knew she’d always been demanding of his time. When Gran or Wilton took her to Alden’s football games or soccer tournaments, she’d whine and pout when he went with his friends afterward instead of coming home to play with her. Sometimes he did go home with her when she became too demanding, and now she burned with embarrassment. Even when he was away at college, he always called or wrote her silly little notes.
When she was in college, he was the first person after Gran that she wanted to see when she visited. How selfish she’d been. His marriage was falling apart and she’d wanted him all to herself.
It was normal to her, something she took for granted. But since having brothers who barely took time to text or phone or visit unless they had dirty laundry to bring home, she understood now how unusual his dedication had been. But again she had taken it for granted . . . until now.
Even now he was still taking care of her. Meri let out a breath. She’d have to tell him that he didn’t need to feel responsible for her anymore. She could take care of herself. She knew she had to tell him, but already she felt a little bereft. Once she acknowledged it, could things ever be the same between them?
She reluctantly turned the page, but the rest of the diary seemed to be about her growing up and continued sporadically through the first couple of years and finally ceased all together. Meri had a feeling the writing stopped with the appearance of Dan Hollis.
Her grandmother said they would talk after dinner if she felt like it. She’d tried calling Alden to invite him to dinner, but “The man has his phone turned off.”
“He must be working,” Meri said.
“He works all the time.”
“Shall I walk over and ask him?” Meri asked.
“No, no. You just stay put and take care of that hand. I’ll go.”
But Meri insisted she felt fine. Besides, she wanted to talk to Alden alone.
A
round five Meri set off across the dunes, wondering if she had been too precipitous about wanting to talk to him. What would she say? What she was really afraid of?
I know you promised to take care of me. I hope that’s not why we’re friends.
He’d probably look at her like she was crazy. Chances are there were times when he didn’t even remember making that promise. Kids did stuff like that all the time. And he hadn’t always taken care of her. He’d gone to college, moved to Manhattan, so there were years they’d hardly seen each other except at holidays.
By the time she walked over the dunes, Meri had talked herself out of the whole assumption. She’d blown the whole thing out of proportion. He’d promised as a boy, and it was vain of her to think he was still keeping that promise out of an exaggerated sense of duty.
Because that would mean that their whole relationship was built on something that had nothing to do with her. That she couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe. He was older. Naturally he would have looked out for her, just as she looked out for her younger half brothers. That was perfectly normal. Surely he had forgotten his promise a long time ago.
And most of her believed that.
Regardless, she wasn’t to find out that night. The house was locked up; not even Alden’s habitual reading lamp lit the interior. She even walked around to the garage, an unattached wooden building that looked as if a brisk wind would knock it over. It was empty, except for two dinghies propped against the wall.
Just as well,
Meri thought as she trudged back across the dunes toward home. Her whole arm was hurting now. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk. Or maybe he was just busy getting ready for Nora’s visit. He probably had shopping to do. Plans to make. And Meri had to confess, the walk had exhausted her; she was too tired to learn any more tonight. She’d eat dinner with Gran, then pop one of those pills and go to bed early.
She had two more days to find out the whole story, or at least all of the story that anyone knew. Then she remembered that Nora would be arriving sometime tomorrow. That too was okay, because the longer she waited, the longer she thought, the easier it was to make herself believe she didn’t need to know the real reason Alden had always been her friend.
B
y the time Meri returned home, her feet were dragging, her hand was throbbing, and pain shot up her arm in bursts like electrical shocks. She hoped that didn’t mean something was wrong.
“Probably just means you’re doing too much,” Gran told her and made her sit down while she inspected the bandage and her arm. “I don’t see anything unusual, but if it’s not better in the morning, we can drive in to the doctor’s. What I think you should do is take one of those pills the doctor gave you and go to bed early.”
Meri nodded. She forced down some baked chicken and didn’t protest when Gran handed her a pill and a glass of water and helped her upstairs to her room.
She fell asleep almost immediately but was visited by such dreams of storms and demons that they could have rivaled Alden’s drawings. She was surprised to open her eyes to sunshine the next morning.
She lay there blinking in the light, wondering if she should just take the day off, not worry any more about her past, concentrate on the present, maybe even contemplate her future. She hadn’t talked to Peter since the night at the hospital, and she didn’t want him to think she was neglecting him. (Or that she had chosen Alden over him.) She hadn’t. She just wanted to go to Gran’s where she knew comfort and acceptance, even now.