Skyward (33 page)

And she sat shivering alone in the darkness, afraid of the thunder and wishing for the comfort of her own mother’s arms. The wind gusted again, bringing with it the first drops of rain. She sniffed the air and could almost taste its cool sweetness as she swallowed hard, her heart fluttering madly, feeling as though she were teetering at the edge, waiting for the fall.

A bolt of lightning seared the sky, crackling, heralding the thunder that followed.

“Storm’s coming,” Fannie said, stepping out onto the porch.

Ella ceased her rocking.

“Marion’s asleep. Hope that thunder don’t wake her up. I had a devil of a time getting her settled.”

Ella pushed against her foot, setting the rocker moving. “I know what you’re doing,” she said in a flat tone of voice.

“And what’s that?”

“You’ve made me the bad guy.”

“Oh, please…”

“The mean person who takes her candy away and gives her shots and doesn’t let her watch television.”

Fannie rolled her eyes. “I just told her she couldn’t have any more candy. Like you wanted me to.”

“No matter what you say to Marion now, we both know that you’ve set it up so that in her eyes you’re the victim. Just like her. That I won’t
let you
give her candy. That I’m
making you
help give her shots. And I’ve seen you sneak to turn the TV on when I leave for the clinic, like it’s some kind of game. You’re acting like her playmate, not her mother.”

Fannie put her hands on her hips and moved to stand in front of Ella, towering over her. The two women stared at each other as thunder rolled in.

“We both know that’s not what you’re really mad about,” Fannie said, her eyes sparking like the lightning overhead. “You’re pissed that I left Marion in the first place. And now you’re mad that I came back. That I’m moving in on this little love nest you’ve got going for yourself.”

Ella’s foot blocked the pendulous rocking and she abruptly turned away.

“But what really rocks your boat is that Marion wants me, not you. She wants
me.
”

“Of course I’m upset!” Ella cried, unable to stop the burst of feeling. “I’m hurt and angry. God, I’m so hurt! I love that child. I want what’s best for her. You’ve put me in the position of destroying all that I’ve built with her. I want to have fun with Marion, too. We used to do everything together and now I’m completely cut out of the picture, except to be the wicked witch. You’ve forced me into that role and I resent it.”

“So what? You’re not her mother.”

Ella felt slapped and sucked in her breath. When she could speak she said with a pained defeat, “I know.”

Fannie took a step closer and leaned forward, tilting her shoulder and saying in a lowered voice, “And Harris is my husband.”

Ella raised her eyes to meet Fannie’s. “I know.”

Lightning cracked so close now it lit the sky, illuminating the treetops that waved and trembled in the increasing wind. Drops of rain splattered against them as the first rumblings of another clap of thunder began.

Fannie took a few steps back and angrily swiped at her hair. She seemed electrified and began pacing in the corner of the porch.

“You know something?” Fannie asked, stopping once more in front of Ella. “I’m mad, too. Not at you, but at me. Because I screwed up. Screwed up good. I hurt the two people I love most in this world. And I hurt myself, too. I’ve done some pretty horrible things. Things I’m not proud of. But I want to change.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I do,” she repeated. “That’s why I came back, see? I haven’t used in months. I’m clean. Really I am. And I want a chance to make it up to Marion. I don’t know about Harris. He may never forgive me. But Marion… She has so much room for me.”

The sky opened up and the rain began coming down in earnest. It hammered the porch roof with a deafening roar and flowed from the roof in sheets. Ella rose from the rocker and headed for the door. Fannie reached out to grasp her arm and hold her back. Ella turned on her heel to glare at her, but Fannie’s eyes were burning with intent and her grip was iron hard.

“I want to be a good mother,” Fannie said to her, shouting to be heard over the storm.

“Then be one.”

“The fact is, I can’t do it alone.” She released Ella’s arm, crossing her own. “I…I need to learn to take care of her. I need to learn about this diabetes stuff, her diet and her shots. There’s so much I don’t know. I’ve seen you with her. You’re good at it. So sure of yourself. Look, I know I’m the last person you want to help, but I have to ask. If not for me, for Marion. Please, Ella, teach me how to take care of my child.”

Ella lay limp in the hot, soapy water of the claw-footed bathtub. From time to time she’d run a cloth over skin that held the memory of being thoroughly caressed. This was not the same body of the woman who had arrived at this strange sanctuary months earlier. The seasons had changed. The weather had gone from cold to warm, the trees from bare to lush with foliage. She had changed.

Her eyes slowly closed and she let the water settle around the curves of her breasts and kneecaps, white islands above the water. Her dilemma floated in her mind, repeating over and over again the decision she could not refute.

How many times over the years had she bitterly complained to anyone who would listen about all the mothers who had refused to participate in their child’s illness? Or about those who didn’t even bother to show up for the training classes, or simply turned a deaf ear to the instructions Ella had tried to offer? She used to pray that just one mother would come to her and say, “Please, teach me to take care of my child.”

Ironically, the only woman who had asked was the only one Ella wished had not.

Ella was a nurse. That’s who she was. And as a nurse she was committed to helping children thrive.

And so, she would help Fannie.

Ella closed her eyes, seeing the argument to its logical conclusion even as the last of her hopes and dreams drained from her. She would teach Fannie how to care for Marion and her diabetes. It was what she was trained to do. It was the right thing to do. And thus, by doing this, she knew she was opening the door for her own departure.

The Cleanup Committee.
The common name “buzzard” is the in correct, slang term for vultures today. “Buzzard” is derived from the French word busard, or hawk, and correctly refers to buteos. Early settlers in North America, however, incorrectly used the name for vultures. Vultures provide a natural cleaning service for the world.

21

THE TWO YOUNG VULTURES WERE WREAKING havoc. They’d picked a hole through the roof and were plucking out bits of insulation. They followed the volunteers around whenever they carried trays of food to the pens until some one relented and fed them. And now that they knew where their next meal was coming from, they were permanently roosting in the shade of a large oak by the weighing room. They sat there now, shoulder to shoulder, watching Harris labor with the heavy chain-link fencing. Harris didn’t know what he was going to do with them.

They were imprinted on humans and clearly had chosen to live among them rather than with the other vultures. Yet he didn’t want to give up hope of reunification. He was moving the dog pen from The Restaurant to the shaded area near the clinic so that he could keep an eye on them until they got a little older. Then they’d try once more to release them.

Inside the clinic he could see Ella’s profile as she worked in the treatment room. For the past week, Ella had been teaching Fannie how to take care of Marion and her diabetes. She was a good teacher, slow, careful and patient with Fannie’s endless questions and fears. Ella had used Marion’s teddy bear to show the best spots for the shots and to let Fannie practice giving injections. Ella had naturally been hesitant to give Fannie any syringes at all, given her drug history, but Fannie swore on a stack of Bibles that she was clean. In the end, Ella moved forward with the instructions. Each day got a little better, at least as far as the training went.

Harris looked over at the house in the distance and no longer experienced that swell of comfort he had in the past several months. Once more, his house was a place of stress.

Their routine was their lifeline. Each morning they awoke to breakfast. He grabbed a bite and went to the clinic. Then he came back and they endured the clink and clatter of the silverware as they wordlessly cut and chewed their meals. Afterward, they escaped again to their chores. One day became two, then a week, then two weeks, and still they maintained this absurd civility. When Ella decided to spend more hours at the clinic, they altered the routine a bit and kept on going.

But the joy was gone. Ella was withdrawing. They barely spoke anymore, and when they did, it was only about business of one sort or another. She was loath to touch him. Even a brush of shoulders caused her to skitter away. The situation was like it had been at the beginning, only much worse because now they were going backward in their relationship. The strain showed in the brittleness of her voice and the pale color of her skin. When their eyes met she always dropped her gaze, but not before he caught a look of pain.

In contrast, Fannie was blooming. The healthy routine and diet, as well as long hours in the sun with Marion, put the pink back in her cheeks. She’d stopped wearing makeup and she resembled more the beauty she had been when he first fell in love with her. She made frequent invitations for time alone or to share his bed, and several times she’d moved to embrace him, but he always turned her away. He felt little for her now.

Looking up, he saw Fannie was coming toward him, her stroll across the field easy and confident, as though she belonged here and had never left. She still wore those tight shorts and skimpy tops that exposed her flat midriff, styles better suited for a girl in her teens. He sometimes wondered if that was the age when her maturity ended. She’d likely end up one of those pitiful adults who never accepted adulthood. Peter Pans who clung to their youth by refusing to accept grown-up responsibilities.

“Where’s Marion?” he asked when she drew near.

She pointed to the resident bird pens. “She wanted to say hello to the crows. Lijah is with her.” She bent forward in a teasing manner while her eyes glittered. “Don’t you worry none. I’m taking good care of our little girl.”

He frowned and bent to renew his struggle with the unwieldy chain-link sections.

“What are you doing?” she asked, coming closer.

“Putting up the dog pen for those two vultures over there.”

“Oh,” she replied, casting a cursory glance at the birds. “Harris, can you stop a minute? So we can talk?”

He looked up hesitatingly. “What about?”

“You know what about. About us.”

He sighed and straightened, looking at her steadily. “There is no us.”

“I know. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

He looked over his shoulder toward the clinic window. Ella had moved somewhere and was no longer visible. “Come on over here,” he said, guiding Fannie to the shade of the oak.

She followed him, brusquely shooing away the Tweedles as they neared the picnic table. “Go on, get out of here,” she said, clapping her hands.

“Leave them be, Fannie. They’re not doing any harm.”

“I can’t stand those things. They give me the creeps. My mama used to tell me they’d eat my eyes out if I was bad.”

Harris held his tongue against the words he’d like to have said about Fannie’s mother. The vultures moved to the opposite side of the patio, watching them warily.

Fannie stepped up on the seat to sit on the top of the picnic table. Once settled she coyly patted the wood beside her.

He remained standing, putting his hands on his hips. Fannie shook her hair, then ran her hands through it, pulling it back from her face. It was meant as a nonchalant gesture but it struck him as too practiced.

“What do you want to talk about, Fannie?” he asked with out enthusiasm. “Are you getting ready to leave?”

She let her hair drop and moved her hands to her kneecaps.

“You can be pretty cruel when you want to be.”

“I don’t mean to be cruel. Just realistic.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “You told me you needed a place to crash till you got back on your feet. I figure you must be getting kind of bored about now.”

She recoiled, hunching her shoulders. Her hair fell forward, cloaking her face. “I guess I deserve that,” she said. Then she jerked her head up and faced him, eyes pleading. “Harris, I’m so very sorry for walking out on you and Marion. I was sick, okay? Maybe not with a disease like your mama, but mentally. I was pretty messed up. I had a lot to overcome, you know that better than anyone. You know the way my mama was. All those so-called daddies that came through our place…” She shook her head, as though to scatter the memories away.

“That was a long time ago, Fannie. You’re not a child any more. You’re not even a young woman. You’re nearing thirty years old and you have a child of your own. You can’t use that as an excuse forever.”

“It’s just…some things are hard to forget, Harris.”

“I can’t argue that,” he said in a low voice.

“I wish to God I never got caught up in drugs. I guess I just needed to escape in any way I could. If only I was able to go back in time and change things.” She dropped her hands and shrugged in defeat. “But of course, I can’t.”

He looked at her, squinting in the sunlight to see her eyes and mine the truth. “Did you need to escape from me? Really, I need to know. Is that why you started using again after we were married?”

“No! God, no. It wasn’t you and it wasn’t Marion. You were always good to me. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you to come home to. I need to know that you’re here for me, Harris.”

“Then why?”

“There’s something inside of me that makes me feel so restless sometimes. Like my skin’s crawling, and I have to go off and—” She was getting worked up, rubbing her arms and rushing her words. “I can’t explain it! I’ve made a lot of mistakes, done things I’m not proud of. More than I can ever tell you. Just believe me, Harris, I’ve paid for my mistakes. I’ve learned my lesson. And I’m tired, so tired. All I want to do now is stay home and be with my little girl. And my husband, if you’ll let me be a wife to you again.”

“Fannie…”

“All I’m asking for is another chance,” she pleaded. “I’m trying so hard, you can see that, can’t you?”

“But for how long? Another week? Another month before your skin starts crawling again and you leave?” He could feel his pent-up anger and resentment building again.

“I won’t go again. I promised Marion I wouldn’t.”

“Marion might believe your promises. I can’t,” he said, looking away.

“What do you want me to do?” she cried. “I’m her mother. She needs me, Harris, not Ella!”

Harris swung his head around again, glaring at the mention of Ella’s name.

“Oh, I’m grateful to her, that’s the God’s honest truth. She’s taught me how to take care of my daughter. But that’s her job. We don’t need her anymore. I know you have feelings for her, but her being here is confusing to Marion. We’ll never have a chance to be a family as long as Ella’s around. I can take care of the house now, too. And someday, when things settle down, I’d like to help you with the birds, the way I used to. We used to be a good team, you always said so.”

She leaned forward to take his hand and hold it tight while her eyes pleaded. “Harris, honey, I’m still your wife. I still love you. And I want to make it up to you. I may not deserve much, but I deserve a chance. It’s my place to be here. To care for our child. This is my home,” she blurted out before succumbing to tears.

Harris wanted to put his arm around her, to console her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do more than let her hold his hand as she wept. She cried copious amounts of tears that flowed down her cheeks till he couldn’t bear it any longer. He moved closer to her as she sat on the picnic tabletop and wept, pulling out a kerchief from his pocket and handing it to her. She took it to swipe her face, then reached up to grasp him around his waist and press her face against the front of his jeans. It was a gesture of intimacy that made him uncomfortable but she held tight, still sobbing. Looking around, he saw only the Tweedles standing nearby, watching them with seemingly little interest.

“Sorry,” she said when she brought herself back under control. “I’ve been holding that in for so long I guess it was like the dam just broke.” She sniffed and wiped her nose and eyes with the kerchief. “I’ll give this back after I launder it,” she said with an attempt at a laugh.

“Mama!”

It was Marion, looking for Fannie.

Fannie laughed, more brightly than before. “That child does flash about. She’s going to wear me down. And I love it,” she added quickly. She looked up at Harris expectantly, waiting for some answer. “She’s our child.”

“Marion comes first,” he said to her, moving toward an in escapable decision.

“Of course,” she replied, her eyes opening wide with anticipation.

“I’ll give you this one last chance, Fannie. For Marion’s sake.” His words caught in his throat. Hearing them, he realized he’d just repeated Ella’s words.

Fannie lunged up to wrap her arms around him, delighted. She clung to him, pressing her body against him.

So, this was his decision, he thought dispassionately. After all the angst and sleepless nights, at the end of the day, it came down to duty.

“If you goof up on her medication, even once…”

“I won’t!” she exclaimed, giddy with pleasure.

Marion rounded the corner, stopping short when she saw her parents in each other’s arms. Her ponytail was askew and her knee was skinned, but she looked like any other healthy five-year-old running amok on a summer’s day. She stared at them for a second, as though trying to figure it out. Then her face broke into a heartrending grin and she bolted for them with arms outstretched, throwing herself into her father’s arms with complete faith and abandonment.

Harris bent to grab her and swing her up to his chest. Marion reached out her free arm and linked it around her mother’s neck, then tugged, bringing both of them close to her so that they were all bound together in a family hug.

None of them saw Maggie standing near the door of the weighing room. Nor did they see Ella standing beside her before she turned and ran in the opposite direction, disappearing behind the cluster of oleanders.

Maggie found Ella leaning against a chinaberry tree, clutching her hands in fists at her sides and staring with a fixed expression out across the water. She was like a stone statue, holding herself hard and unyielding. It didn’t seem natural.

“A good cry will do you good,” Maggie said as she came near. “My mama always told me to let it all out and I’d feel better. She was right, too.”

“No,” Ella said. She was holding herself together by a thin rope and had to keep herself very still and breathe hard or she’d lose control. “I won’t cry. For I have no one to blame but myself. I never should have let myself love him. Love Marion. They weren’t mine to love. He was married. I knew that. He had a wife but I wanted him. I wanted Marion for my own. I stole the fire, like Prometheus. I knew it was wrong but I did it, anyway, and now I’m being punished.”

She looked up at her friend and seeing the compassion in Maggie’s eyes, she almost lost it. “Do you know how the gods punished Prometheus? He was chained to a rock while an eagle or a vulture ate his liver. Then it grew back and got eaten again. So the pain never stops, you see. Kind of like love. It’s fitting, don’t you think?”

“Cut it out, Ella. I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“It’s true.”

“He’s not really married. He’s only tethered and he’s too dumb to undo the knots.”

“What difference does it make? He’s bound to his wife. I can’t pretend any longer.” She pushed herself from the tree, plucking a fallen leaf from her braid as she walked through the tall grass toward Maggie. She stopped short and looked at her tall, strong friend and was filled with gratitude that she had this anchor in her life.

“I thought this all through with that cool logic I’m so proud of. When I arrived, I saw myself as a helper to every one. The efficient, competent Ella Majors back in form. I neglected to anticipate that I’d fall in love and want this happiness to last forever. I let myself believe Harris and I had something real. But I can see now that I’ve just been playing house. Living out some childhood dream. And I’m so angry at myself for falling into the trap.”