Just Claire (9 page)

“
I
, uh. Mean, uh. . .” Valerie tapped her lips. “Shh.”

Extending a hand to Valerie, ClaireLee waited. But Valerie pushed strands of hair from her face and stayed hunkered down. “When they're gone, I'll get up.”

Glancing around, ClaireLee said, “There's no one here.”

Peeking across the top of the crate, Valerie sighed. “Kaye and Wendy.”

“They've left—come on.” ClaireLee wiggled her fingers.

Valerie hopped over, holding a feather duster. “Swear you won't breathe a word to anyone you saw me?”

She did the pledge. “Girl Scouts' honor.” Then, she lowered her arm to her side. “But why?”

“Especially not the Lavender Girls,” Valerie said in a hushed tone.

ClaireLee puckered her lips in thought. “But, you are a Lavender Girl, silly goose.”

“If they find out, I won't be.” Valerie tapped her lips, again.

Curious for sure, ClaireLee said, “About what?”

“You know.” With a sweep of her hand, she waved over the store and all of its belongings. “I work here, because I'm not of high society.”

This jarred ClaireLee. “Hi what?”

“I take it you haven't heard of high society?” Valerie focused on the cans of food, moving a few, labels facing forward.

Helping her, ClaireLee turned some of the cans. “No, I haven't.”

“Back in Boston the Lavender Girls live in luxury—fancy houses with swimming pools, tennis courts, and the best private schools.” She folded her hands in front of her. “Wendy even has a nanny, who came with her here to Gallagher Springs.” Valerie's eyes grew round. “Kaye's and Wendy's dads own the same company and are the bosses on the tunnel job. Meaning, they have gobs of money.”

Brightening at the similarity of words, ClaireLee said, “I call my grandmother Nana.”

“I mean a live-in-babysitter-type nanny, who's like a mother.”

ClaireLee stiffened. “Her mother died?”

“Oh, no.” Valerie waved her palm. “The nanny lives with them and takes care of everybody.”

Crossing her arms, ClaireLee said, “Never heard of such a thing.”

“I'm drop-dead serious, ClaireLee.” Valerie raised a brow.

All she could think to say was, “Okay.”

“Did you know Kaye brought her housekeeper, and both their mothers stayed in Boston?”

This brought to mind her mama. “Why didn't their mothers come along?”

“They said something about their involvement in committees and clubs back in Boston.” Valerie shrugged. “I even overheard my dad tell my uncle something interesting. The owner of the tunnel project, Mr. Temple, had the interior of the old community building remodeled into two elaborate lodges joined together like duplexes.” She winked. “They're just for the two bosses and their families.”

“Uh-huh.” ClaireLee leaned in closer and whispered, “What's a duplex?”

“Two houses attached together, and Wendy and Kaye moan about how tiny the living space is. Now do you get how rich they are?”

“I think so.” Tapping her shoe, ClaireLee wanted to grasp what amount of money would allow all this. But she couldn't.

“These girls expect everyone in their club to be well-to-do.” Valerie shook her head. “This is why there's only the three of us Lavender Girls. No one else meets their standards.”

“You know, I'm confused.” Clicking her tongue, ClaireLee scratched an ear. “What's this got to do with why you were hiding?”

“They think my dad owns this market, but it's my uncle Billy's.” She lowered her lashes. “He asked me to sweep and dust Friday afternoons. It gives me spending money.”

“Shucks.” ClaireLee paced the floor. “Where did they get the idea your dad owns the store?”

“Who knows?” Valerie paced with ClaireLee. “I can tell you, when they get something in their heads, it's the gospel truth.”

“You're not one of them.” ClaireLee sat on a crate and narrowed her eyes.

“No.” Valerie clutched her elbows.

I knew there was something different about her.
ClaireLee nodded. “I noticed you don't get involved with the mean things they've said and done.” She puffed her cheeks with her breath, and let it out. “You're caught in the middle.”

Brushing a hand over the feather duster, Valerie said, “I'm living a lie here in Gallagher Springs.”

Grasping her fingers on her lap, she said, “I feel caught in the middle with Belinda and the Lavender Girls.”

She gave a knowing nod. “True.”

“Why do Wendy and Kaye hate Belinda?” ClaireLee said.

“Because they want to rule, and Belinda doesn't like anyone bossing her around. She's always been the boss around the school until now.”

“I thought so.” She nibbled her lip. “Belinda told me something else, but I just knew there was more to it.”

Valerie waved out her hand. “Is there anything I can help you find in the store?”

“I need a chunk of cheese.” She sprang from her makeshift seat.

“Take your pick.” Valerie moved toward the cooler. “I'm kidding. There's the one-and-only brand Uncle Billy carries.”

After selecting the largest block of cheddar and a bag of macaroni noodles, the girls headed to the front of the store. Valerie raised her voice. “Uncle Billy, you've got a customer.”

From behind the counter, Mr. Holcomb came out of another room. “Is this your friend, Val?”

“ClaireLee Monteiro.”

“I've met this young lady.” This time they shook hands. “Your daddy use to come in here quite often, but I imagine it's your job now.” He pointed at the candy display. “You girls take your pick. It's on the store.”

Searching for her favorite, ClaireLee chose peanut-butter-striped taffy, and Valerie did likewise. ClaireLee peeled off the wrapper and sank her teeth into the gooey marvel. The two girls chatted as they ate. Valerie licked her fingers when she finished. “I've got to get back to dusting before my dad picks me up after work.”

“See you on Monday.” ClaireLee waved. “Thank you, Mr. Holcomb.”

Valerie pantomimed zip-your-mouth-closed.

ClaireLee gave the Girl Scouts' honor sign once again.

Nearing the driveway of the cabin, ClaireLee thought of the lie she told. How it pricked her conscience like a hot goathead sticker on bare feet. She walked past the kitchen window, and her knees locked.

Taking backward steps, she crouched underneath the glass. When she peered through the windowpane, Mama sat at the dinette table. Her fuzzy hair was more like a mouse nest. Stone-cold still, Mama appeared dazed.

Clutching her groceries tighter, the macaroni in the sack crunched.

A
cereal box
lay at Mama's feet.

The trail of flakes reminded ClaireLee of the story of Hansel and Gretel. Crumbs ended at a tent made of blankets over the rocker and bed.
Mama's acting like a statue, and where are Lolly and the baby?

ClaireLee opened the makeshift towel door. Feather squirmed on Lolly's lap, where she sat cross-legged on the floor. A worn blanket covered Feather's entire body, and he wiggled.
Is it hard for him to breathe?
ClaireLee crooked her finger. “Give him to me, Lolly.”

“My baby.” Lolly puffed her cheeks, pulling him closer.

“I'm not playing, little miss.” She gritted her teeth, concerned over Feather.

Lolly squeezed her narrow features into the Stubborn Look. “He's mine, Sissy Pie.”

Forcing herself to stay calm, ClaireLee tried a new tactic. She said in a sweet voice, “Yes, he's yours, and your baby's wet. Do you want to help change him?” Lolly pushed him from her lap; ClaireLee grabbed him, and tore off the blanket. Feather gasped in wide-eyed wonder.

Both sisters crawled out of the blanket tent. Lolly sat on the bed with her legs bent at the knees and to her sides. She chose a crayon and scribbled in her horse coloring book, as though ignoring ClaireLee, who frowned over her little sister's aggressive behavior.

With a job to do, she checked inside Feather's diaper and crinkled her nose. “A shooy diaper. I don't think you should help me this time, Lolly.”

“Feather cried.” Lolly stopped drawing. “I feed him.”

ClaireLee stared at Lolly then searched inside Feather's mouth with her finger. He gagged. A soggy flake stuck to her nail. She wagged her finger at Lolly. “Never, ever, put anything in his mouth. He could choke to death. He eats only Mama's milk.” She glanced at Mama, who hadn't moved a smidgen.
Mama, please say something.

“I'm bad.” Lolly was bowing her head.

“No, just don't do it again.” Swaying with the baby, ClaireLee said, “Where are the boys, anyway?”

Fiddling with her fingers, Lolly said, “Don't know.”

“They better not be at the pond.” She moved toward the floor. “Why did you make this mess?”

Taking huffing breaths, Lolly now rubbed an eye.

Irritation grew within ClaireLee, and she left the baby on the bed safely against the corner wall. She grabbed the broom and swept. “For crying out loud, Lolly, why would you get into the cereal? I left you a lunch.” She stopped sweeping.

With mumbling lips, Lolly said, “Bouds eat it.”

She cocked her head. “
Birds
ate
your
sandwich?”

“Yeah. Mama says snow bouds hungy.” Her bottom lip trembled. “I'm bad.”

Flinging a hand in exaggeration, ClaireLee let go of the broom and it hit the floor. “Why do you keep saying this?”

Below a dainty neck, Lolly's shoulders heaved. “I hold my sandwich, but Mama gets it.” She jumped from the rocker. “I go like this to Mama,” she said and pantomimed grasping for what Mama had taken.

Mama took Lolly's food and fed it to birds?

ClaireLee sagged into the rocker and waved to Lolly. Lolly nestled into her sister, while ClaireLee's anger toward Mama sizzled. So what if the cabin was a disaster, and the boys ran off to heaven knows where?
I can't do everything and be everywhere at once.
She relaxed into Lolly's snuggle, patting her littler sister's back in a gentle rhythm and certain Lolly's confusion matched her own.

Was Mama changed because of her almost death?
ClaireLee pressed her feet on the floor. “Let's clean this messy floor. Afterward, I'll feed you. We'll get milk, the jam, and bread.” She rose from the rocker.
I can't imagine this mama, our mama, doing this to Lolly. But, my sister wouldn't lie.

ClaireLee finished sweeping around Mama's feet.
Mama's never been so dirty, or her hair so messy.

With the broom back in its place behind the front door, ClaireLee helped her sister dump tablespoons of cocoa mix into their mugs. While ClaireLee poured in the warm milk, Lolly stirred and asked a zillion questions. “Why is Mama sick? Why won't she get betta? Why don't we go home?”

Why, why, why? Why do I have to answer these questions, Lord?

Sitting across from Mama, ClaireLee sipped the steamy drink. “I think, Lolly—oh, I don't know what I think.”
Please, Lord, help me.
She cleared her throat and began again. “I think Mama doesn't realize what she's doing.” She tapped fingers on the table, hoping Mama would snap out of it and acknowledge them. “Do you understand, baby?”

Shaking her head, then nodding, Lolly licked milk off her lip. “Mama will be Mama someday soon?”

“Yes, sweet pea.” She fluffed Lolly's bangs. “Mama will be better soon.” With those hopeful words, she shook Mama's arm. “Please, Mama. It's me, ClaireLee. Wake up.”

Chin drooping, Mama's eyelids twitched and ClaireLee's heart fluttered.

Mama said, “Mom. Home.” Her forehead hit the table. ClaireLee squealed, and she jumped back, toppling over the chair and spilling her chocolate milk in a crooked stream across the table.

“My mama's sick.” Lolly whimpered and squished her eyes shut. “Her's so sick, Sissy Pie.”

“I know, Lolly.” ClaireLee dampened a dish towel and spread it across the milk mess.
Mama's scaring me, too. I never knew anyone could act this way.
“We'll make Mama comfortable when I'm done here.”

Lolly hopped down. “Mama needs her pillow.” She brought it back, handing it to ClaireLee. “Her's so tired, huh?”

They slid the pillow under Mama's head and ClaireLee said in a soothing voice, “Rest, Mama. Daddy will come soon.” She thought of a hymn to calm her shaky insides and sang, “Hear my plea, dear Lord, look down on me. . .”

After singing, ClaireLee glanced at the clock.
Would you hurry, Daddy?
She pinched the bridge of her nose in hopes of blocking the tears.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.

W
here could Daddy be
?
Hurry, hurry, hurry, please, please, please.

Daddy was coming home from work early to help ClaireLee with supper. She bought the macaroni and cheese to go with the chicken he would bring home to fry. A few minutes later, a ruckus hit the front door— Laddie and the boys. Liam spotted Mama slumped over the table and froze.

Grayson ducked around Liam and peered at Mama's face. “Why are you acting like you're sleeping?” He shook her shoulder. “Mama?”

Before ClaireLee could explain, a car door shut. Daddy hollered from the outside porch, “I'm back. Let's get the meal on, kids.” As he stepped inside the doorway, he held a box labeled “Monteiro Chicken.” His furry brows slammed into a frown.

“What's your mama doing?” He shot ClaireLee a stern expression, his eyes ricocheting off of ClaireLee and Mama. “ClaireLee?”

She laced her fingers together. “When I got here, she was staring at her glass of milk. Later, she said, ‘Mom, home,' and fell over.”
Please, Daddy, do something.

Heaving a sigh which made ClaireLee wince, Daddy dropped his load. “Dotty?” He touched Mama's head, and his voice grew rough. “Get up.” He tried to lift her. “You need to c'mon.” She didn't, so he pleaded, “Dot, our children need you. I need you. Please don't do this.”

Do this? What does Daddy mean?
ClaireLee's chest tightened, and she pressed on the spot.
Does it mean she can help it? Whatever this is.

Liam shuffled his feet, and the littler kids gripped ClaireLee's arm, clinging to her like warts. She peeled off their fingers, ready to bolt.

Breaking the silence, the baby squealed. Every eye zeroed in on him at the living room bed, except his mother's. Feather's angry fists socked at air. ClaireLee scooped him to her chest, and he hit her cheeks. Thinking fast, she stuck a finger in his mouth, and he sucked.
What will happen to us?
He grunted, squeezing his face into what ClaireLee believed was a knot of disproval.

Seeming unable to move, Daddy stood over the table. Finally, he said, “Boys, help me get your mama to bed.” They heaved her upright—the boys on one side and Daddy on the other. After settling Mama under the blankets in bed, Daddy took Feather from ClaireLee and propped him so he could nurse. Mama's eyelashes flickered, a hand resting on the baby. She tucked him closer to her, and this comforted ClaireLee.

“She's waking.” Daddy caressed Mama's forehead. “My pretty lady.”

While Feather gulped and smacked on his meal like a starving piglet, Mama's lids opened, and her dull eyes stared at Daddy. Mama sighed, and ClaireLee caught the sigh like one would catch a cold, or the flu. Whatever Mama had wrong, was ClaireLee able to get it? The idea created a shudder, which echoed throughout her whole being.

Daddy cupped his hand over Mama's, his raindrop-tears buried within his Irish red beard. Bowing his head, his lips moved in prayer. “Father, please—”

ClaireLee didn't mean for her voice to squeak. “I'll go”—she pointed toward the kitchen—“cut the chicken.” She waited for Daddy to say, “Mama will be fine; don't worry.” He continued to pray, and ClaireLee's heart cracked.

Steps ahead of ClaireLee, Liam said, “When are we gonna eat?”

“Mama's sicker and sicker, huh, ClaireLee?” Grayson tagged beside her.

Beating them into the kitchen, Liam placed cups, plates, and utensils on the table for supper. He told Grayson, “Normal people don't do this, you little cootie.”

“I'm not a bug, Liam James.” Grayson crossed his arms with a huff.

Dabbing her eyes on her blouse sleeve, ClaireLee said, “Mama
is
sicker.” She opened the box of raw chicken, three carcasses in all, and lifted one by its featherless wing.
All I know? I want Mama back.
Finding the bird's cartilage, ClaireLee cut between the bones like Mama had shown her long ago when she was only ten.

The boys clashed butter knives like swords and ClaireLee mumbled under her breath, “I want to go home, too, Mama.” Her tears leaked onto the chicken. She washed off the meat under the stream of water.
I'm scared we're never going to be a normal family ever again.

“Weady. Set. Go,” Lolly yelled. The boys raced to see who could butter their four slices of bread first. Lolly cheered for the brother she wanted to win. “Go, Gayson. Beat the meany.”

Over all the commotion, Daddy was now adding madrone hardwood to the woodstove. Then, in the kitchen, he lifted the window halfway. Curtains puffed from a breeze, slap-slap-slapping his face. Daddy's shoulders heaved with sobs.

When's Daddy going to stop crying?
ClaireLee covered her mouth and gulped her own sobs.

Liam and Grayson halted their butter game, and Lolly leaned into ClaireLee. “Cutains give Daddy owie?”

Groaning, he kissed the top of each child's head, ending with ClaireLee. As Daddy dipped lard into the cast-iron skillet, his voice shook. “I don't know what to do, Claire Bear.”

Waiting for the tallow to heat, he wrapped an arm around ClaireLee's shoulder. This gave her courage to make a grown-up suggestion. “Daddy, shouldn't we go home, where Nana can help us?”

His muffled “no” came harsh against her ear on his chest.

Clicking her tongue in disappointment, she moved away from him. She squeezed her eyes as though she could block out his decision.
Please, Daddy, we need to go home.
Resigned to his authority, though, she passed Daddy the plate of spiced and floured chicken. But, her heart would hurt until they left Gallagher Springs, California.

Arranging each piece of meat in the grease, where it sizzled, Daddy said, “You'll continue to take over your mama's jobs, until she feels better. This means laundry now, also.”

This collapsed the last of ClaireLee's hope.
More work?
For sure, her life was a disaster.

Daddy kept talking. “I've been doing the wash at Holcomb's. Bill has a washer and dryer set up behind his store.” Daddy ran water over his hands. “I'll give you a dime each time you go to pay for the use of them.”

ClaireLee flung open the refrigerator door. She slammed the cheese on the counter. She didn't care a whit if Daddy knew her insides were blown into a zillion pieces.

M
uch later
, as everyone slept, ClaireLee peered over her jacketed shoulder and clicked shut the front door of the cabin. Laddie crawled from under the porch and licked her hand. As ClaireLee tucked her writing materials under her arm, she said, “Hey, Laddie, Laddie, I love you.” She kissed his head and rubbed an ear. Her doggie breath puffed like a miniature smokestack in the glow of her flashlight. “Your fur's cold, poor boy.”

“C'mon.” She held Laddie's radar ear and began her trek on the snow-crusted trail to Rushing River. The galoshes crunched, sank, crunched, sank. Her feet grew colder with each step, while flakes of snow fell.

ClaireLee wasn't scared of the river, even though it had taken Belinda's dad from her. After witnessing the river's beauty, ClaireLee longed to sit near its banks. She still feared cougars, but her need to visit the river drew her outdoors, anyway. It was true Laddie was half the size of those wild cats. But his heart of love for her was huge. He would be her protector.

The lamplight's glow splashed on the trees, creating shadows.
Where does the crippled jaybird sleep?
The first time she and Belinda had walked the trail, he squawked in a scolding voice. Maybe he warned of the river's danger. Maybe his toes hurt because of his limp.

She sang, “Jesus give the weary calm and sweet repose. . .”

Upon entering the clearing near the bank, she dug her feet deeper into her rubber boots and climbed the rock. Just as before, the white-water rapids dominated all sounds. She settled on the flattest spot and wrote the people she trusted:

D
ear Nana and Papa
,

I hope you are doing well. I miss you with all my heart. I bet Mama hasn't written, so you don't have our TEMPORARY address.

Something is wrong with Mama, and I'm worried. Daddy tells me to work more. Working is not helping her. Please come. Your visit will make her happy. I just know it.

You must have figured by now we have a new baby. Mama almost died having Chipper Frank (baby's name). I call him Feather, and he is cute. We do love him, but Mama cries and stays in bed. Today, I found her as still as a statue. It scared me, Nana.

The kids know something is wrong. I want to go home with you. If you come.

I love you!!! XXOO Hope to see you soon!!!

Your devoted granddaughter,

ClaireLee.

P.S. I hope you find us. It is in the middle of nowhere.

P.P.S. I would write what roads to take, but I don't have a map.

P.P.P.S. We live in Gallagher Springs, California, and Redden is the biggest town near us. We live off Pit Street where it dead-ends. Make a right. We are in cabin number nine.

P.P.P.P.S. Please do not tell Daddy I told you about Mama! You could say I wrote you because I missed you (I do).

C
laireLee's icy
hands fumbled to fold and tuck the letter within its envelope. On Saturday after she did the laundry, she would buy a stamp.
I'll give Mr. Holcomb the letter to mail—my SOS.