Homecoming (53 page)

“Hi,” she said as she threw her bag into the back seat. “I was just telling the fellas that I was leaving my car here for the weekend. I didn’t want them to think I’d been kidnapped or something.”

“Maintenance guys?”

“Farm ops. We were jawing about how we can make sure we’ve got a good skating pond this year.”

“Skating pond?”

“Uh-huh. There’s a low lying area right down at the base of that hill,” she said, pointing. “Last year was a little dry and we didn’t have enough standing water to freeze. This year they’re going to pump some water up from the lake if they need to.”

“Do you charge people to skate?”

“Oh, no, it’s not for guests. Just us.” She gave Jill a speculative look. “I guess I could bring a friend.”

“Then I’ll sharpen my skates.”

“Winter’s on its way. No doubt about it. Time to load all of my gear into my trunk. Now that I can park in the garage, I won’t worry about having my car broken into.”

“Gear? What kind of gear do you need?’

Lizzie snuck her chilly fingers up under Jill’s sweater, tickling her ribs. “You’re just gonna have to wait and see, aren’t you.”

Jill laughed as she pushed Lizzie’s hand away. “Don’t kill us before winter gets here.” After turning onto the main road that would lead them to the interstate, she asked, “Will you play DJ? We need some good driving music.”

Lizzie fussed with her phone, looking for a good playlist. Jill kept taking glances her way, loving how she bit her bottom lip when she was thinking.

Obviously satisfied, Lizzie leaned her seat back and stuck a foot up on the dash.

“Is that a good idea?” Jill asked. “Some trucker’s going to drive off the road.”

She grasped her skirt and fanned it playfully. “No one can look up my dress from behind. It’ll be all right.”

The tone Jill had used stuck in her head. Damn, she hated being a scold. “Sorry I’m picking at you. I think I’m a little edgy.”

“I know.” She put her hand on Jill’s leg, then brushed her fingers across her jeans. “If you’ve changed your mind and don’t want me to come with you, I won’t be mad.”

“You’re mad for wanting to come,” she grumbled. “It’s not going to be fun.”

“Jill,” she said softly. “We’re not partners only when we’re having fun. Come on now. Get your head on straight, bucko.”

Jill turned and gave her a brief smile. “How many nicknames do you have for me? I’ve lost count.”

“Those aren’t nicknames. Just names. They don’t stick for long.”

“True. I’m not complaining, by the way. Jennifer used to call me babydoll. Almost exclusively.” She turned enough to let Lizzie see her raised eyebrow.

“Nice,” Lizzie teased. “Good way to make you feel the age difference.”

“Ick! I never thought of it like that. I focused more on the ‘doll’ part. Since I never felt like a doll, it always seemed like someone else’s name applied to me.”

“Now that name’s going to be stuck in my head. You can slap me if I use it, but I probably will.”

“Yeah, that’s just what I’ll do,” Jill said, rolling her eyes. “You’re the mistress of hyperbole.”

“Awful nickname. Really awful. You’ve gotta keep working on that, babydoll.”

“Ooo, it’s gonna be a loooooong weekend.”

***

After pulling into the family driveway, Jill tried to make her fingers release their death-grip on the wheel. “I don’t want to do this,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m happy to let my mother throw everything of mine away.”

“That’s not fair,” Lizzie said gently. “Your mom’s got a lot of work ahead of her to pack up a house. How long has she lived here?”

“Forty-one years, I guess. She inherited some property when her father died, and sold some of it to buy the house when she got married.”

“Free and clear?”

“Yeah, I think so. I guess she might have had a mortgage, but she owns it outright now. I do her taxes.”

“Interesting. I’m surprised she lets you see private stuff like that.”

Jill thought about that for a second. “That is odd, isn’t it? I’ve been doing them since I was in high school. I assume she’d rather have me know her business than someone in town, but I bet it was a close call.”

She opened the car door, stood and took a long look at the property. It wasn’t a spectacular house, mostly because neither of her parents cared about decorating or upgrading the interior. But the yard was awesome by any standard. Four seasons of color, with lots of texture and visual interest. It was at a low point now, but she knew she’d truly miss it in the spring, when the bulbs her mother painstakingly overwintered burst into life.

Lizzie came around and took her hand. As they went up the walk, the door opened and her mother appeared, squinting at them like she wasn’t quite sure who they were. Lizzie kept holding Jill’s hand, which was kind of nice. There was no reason to act like they were just friends.

“What were you doing standing out there for so long?” her mother asked, already cross.

Jill ignored the question. “Mom, this is Lizzie.”

Lizzie removed her glove and extended her hand. “We’ve met before, Mrs. Henry, but it was a long time ago.”

“Where would I have met you?”

Jill flinched. She’d been hoping her mother could suck it up just once and be cordial, but that was obviously hoping for too much. At least she’d responded to Lizzie’s extended hand.

“At church. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

Jill put her hand on Lizzie’s back and urged her inside. “Let me take your coat,” she said, after helping her remove it. By the time she’d returned from placing their coats on a chair in the den, Lizzie was walking through the living room, commenting on the decorating.

“I love how clean and pared down everything is,” she said. “It’s so easy to let things build up.”

“I can’t stand mess. Never could. People keep a load of crap. Do you watch those shows? About hoarders?”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Lizzie said. “I’m not the cleanest person in the world, but I can’t stand to look at that kind of chaos.”

A smile lit her mother’s face, making Jill start. She was certain those muscles, seldom used, had atrophied. “Oh, you should watch. You’ll never feel cleaner.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Do you live at Jill’s?”

“Uh-huh. I just moved in last month. She has a lovely home. Very clean,” she added. “I bet she learned how to keep a neat house from you.”

“Certainly not from her father! He’d live in filth if I didn’t clean up after him.”

“Where will you be living in Arizona?”

“Scottsdale. In a townhouse. It took me a long time to find a place with a little yard that I could take care of.”

Lizzie stood in front of the picture window that overlooked the backyard. She turned and gave Jill’s mom such a warm smile it had to have melted her heart a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier yard. You must work on it every day of the year.”

“Just about,” she admitted. “You’ve got to keep on top of things. Thank god the leaves have almost all dropped.”

“I’m sure you couldn’t find a place with a yard anywhere near as nice as yours, but I have a feeling you’ll have it in shape before too long. How many times did you have to go out to Arizona?”

Acting like that was a strange question, she said, “I’ve never been there. I did it all on the internet.”

“Never?” Lizzie’s face betrayed her surprise.

“No. But I read the weather report. It never snows, and that’s all I care about at this point.”

“Then you should be good to go,” Lizzie said, her smile so charming and nonjudgmental that Jill could see her mother begin to thaw. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“I’ve got a sister there, but I don’t think we’ll be bosom buddies or anything like that. She can be a royal pain in the butt.”

“I’ve got two sisters,” Lizzie said, speaking softly, as though they were conspiring. “I know just what you mean.”

“Where do you work?” she asked, giving Lizzie as careful a look as she did a tree at the nursery. “You didn’t get all dressed up to come see me.”

“I work at Hollyhock Hills. I try to talk people into giving us money.”

“I’ve never been there. They say it’s nice, but…” She shrugged. “I guess I should have gone to see the gardens.”

Lizzie frowned and bit at her lip. “I wish I could have taken you on a tour while the gardens were still in bloom. It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Jill?”

“It is,” she said, knocked out of her passive viewing of the conversation. “It’s great.”

“Did you used to have funny hair?”

Good lord!

“I did,” Lizzie said, laughing. “Really funny. I thought it was cool, but I’m sure I looked like a fool.”

“I
knew
that was you! You’re the last of the bunch, right?”

“Uh-huh. Two girls, then four boys, then me.”

“Well, you look a lot better than you used to. I would have cut that mess off your head while you were sleeping.”

Lizzie smiled warmly. “I’m sure my mom wanted to, but I’m a light sleeper.”

“Do you want some tea? I’ve got cookies too.”

“Sure. We’ve got all day, right, Jill?”

“Uhm…sure. I guess we do.” Watching Lizzie thoroughly charm her mother, Jill followed along as they made their way into the kitchen. It was absolutely weird. Disconcerting. But also really nice to be able to lurk in the background and observe. Much better than being on the firing line.

***

After drinking tea and eating Fig Newtons, they put their coats back on and went into the garage. One wall was filled with boxes labeled “Rich,” the other, with far fewer, had Jill’s name on them.

“I have a dumpster coming on Friday. So if you don’t want any of this, just leave it right here. They’ll take everything that’s left.”

“What about Dad’s stuff?” Jill asked. “Is he coming?”

“He’d better.” She crossed her arms over her chest, as if daring her to take his side.

Jill was about to ask more questions, then realized it was none of her business. Her parents had always had a very odd relationship. One she’d never understood. It was too late to catch up now.

“I can look through this, if you want to go back inside,” she said. “It’s awfully chilly out here.”

Lizzie met her eyes for just a second, then turned back towards the house and said, “Let’s go have another cup of tea. Jill can take her time and we won’t have to freeze.”

“I hate the damn cold,” her mother agreed, scurrying back inside. Lizzie paused on the threshold and raised an eyebrow in question. Jill waved, giving her permission to go. She wouldn’t have minded Lizzie staying, but she didn’t want her mother commenting on the things she’d saved. It was, undoubtedly, curated with her own unique take on things.

As expected, there was very little that Jill would have chosen. Lots of clothing, all of it outdated and child sized. Knowing her mother, she’d saved everything that had a lot of wear left in it. She hated to throw away perfectly good things. But she also hated to give things to charity. That let people in town see what they had and possibly comment on it.

In a box, she found every card she’d ever given or sent; birthday, mother’s day, and later, Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter. Every one still in its envelope. With Jill’s childish hand slowly growing into her current one. Why had she saved them? And why throw them away now? One more question she’d never have answered.

The next boxes had some real treasures. Books. Loads of books. Some from her mother’s youth, and a few from her grandmother. Five books, obviously old and fragile, were written in French. Those must have been her great-grandmother’s. Hardbound, high quality, well-used. Inside the covers, the name Elizabeth Bergeron was written in a fine, elaborate hand. Her great grandmother shared Lizzie’s name. So cool!

Jill didn’t really have room to display all of these books, but she was keeping them. Books had been her oasis when she was a girl, providing a place to get away, to dream, to fantasize. If not for reading and the Davises… She shivered, thinking of what would have happened to her.

The last box, clearly in her section, bore things from her mother’s youth, along with some of her grandmother’s keepsakes. A number of photos, chronicling a rural Vermont girl’s Depression-era life. There were several of a nicely dressed couple, assumably her great-grandparents. One might have been taken when they were newly engaged, another at their wedding, staged and very sober. Then a series of photos of her grandmother and her siblings, taken at a professional photographer’s studio. Jill held one out at arm’s length, reading the tiny gold script. “Smith Bros., Bellows Falls, Vermont.” She’d never seen any of these things. Had no idea they existed.

Then her mom’s high school yearbooks. She searched through, finding a photo of her mother as a freshman, looking a little wary of the camera. She was the kind of girl Jill wouldn’t have approached. Chilly, defended, she looked like she’d be unfriendly at best. Paging through to the seniors, she found her father. Rich Henry, in his blazer, wide tie and moderately long hair. He was a very good looking boy, a winning smile making him look like he’d easily reach the title his classmates bestowed on him, “Most Likely To Succeed.”

The invitation to their wedding, just over three years later. Jill’s birth announcement four years after the wedding. A tiny white dress, probably from her baptism. A pair of well-worn high top white leather shoes. Her high school graduation announcement. All things signifying mileposts. Cast aside.

Without waiting for Lizzie, she opened the garage door and hustled the books and the mementos into the trunk. Then she came back inside, took her phone from her pocket and dialed. “Dad?”

“Hey, Jill. What’s up?”

“I’m at Mom’s and I wanted to make sure you knew she was going to throw all of your stuff away on Friday.”

“Throw it away?”

“Yeah.” She opened a box, labeled “clothing.” “All of your suits, dress shoes…”

“God damn it!” He was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. “Can you pick it up for me? I wasn’t planning on spending the holiday driving over there.”

“Uhm…no,” she said, even though she could have put at least his suits and shoes into her trunk. “Give her a call. She might let you go through it later. I’ve got to go now. Have a nice Thanksgiving.”