Lady Blues

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  Before I could torture myself further, she leapt up and took my hands in hers. “Daddy?”

  I looked up at her and winced. “You don’t call me Daddy anymore, unless you want something.”

  “No, not this time. I just want to tell you that we’ve made a big decision.”

  I waited.

  She exchanged glances with Adam and breathed deeply. “I’ve closed the clinic.”

  I knew it.

  She squelched my reaction and shushed me. “Now, Dad. Don’t worry, it’s just for a week. Adam and I are going to the Poconos. We’re getting married, with a justice of the peace.” She sat down again, as if bracing for a storm.

  My insides relaxed and water flowed over the dam, swirling the fears away. I burst out laughing. “Is that all? My God, I thought it was something awful.”

  “You don’t mind, then?” she said.

  “Mind? Heck no. I don’t care how you get married, when you get married, or where you get married. Long as you two are happy. Now, Maddy, on the other hand…”

  Freddie rolled her eyes. “Well, I know she was excited about our wedding, but I think she’ll be better off worrying about her own. I’m just not into all that frilly stuff.”

  Adam took her hand again. “We just want to make it official, you know? Without all the stress and expense of a big ceremony.”

  I nodded. “I’m with you on that.” A trickle of alarm chased down my spine. “But wait a minute. When you’re married, where will you live?” I imagined my grandchildren being whisked away from me and grew cold. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing them.

  “Dad, I hope you don’t mind, but we’d very much like to stay here with you and Camille. The house is so huge, and Mrs. Pierce has watched the kids since they were born, and you and Sig make great backup babysitters.”

  Relieved, I let out a long breath and smiled. “And I’m a better cook than you.”

  Adam snorted and Freddie cuffed him.

  I scraped back my chair and approached her for a hug, whispering in her ear. “Of course you can stay here. Besides, someday this house will be yours.”

  Freddie’s eyes widened. “Really? Mine?” It seemed as if the idea had never occurred to her.

  I turned and walked to the cabinet, took out a glass, and poured myself some orange juice. “Of course. Elsbeth and I lived here with my folks when you were born. We were very happy. And they passed the house on to me when they died. That’s the way it works. It’ll be yours someday.”

  Her eyes filled and her voice thickened. “Thank you, Dad.”

  I swigged the juice and rinsed the glass, setting it in the sink.

  “Never mind that, you’ve got more important things to think about now.”

  Freddie brushed moisture from her eyes and stood, fussing with the suitcase and a list she’d posted on the refrigerator.

  “I gave Adam’s parents the same information. It’s all the doctors and emergency numbers. Here’s the Knapp’s number, too. They’ll expect you to pick up the kids on Saturday, if that’s okay? They said they’d call you if there were any questions. And I’m pretty sure Mrs. Pierce will be back before then, so it shouldn’t be hard to—”

  I stopped her flow of words. “No worries. We’ve got it covered.” I took out my checkbook and filled in Freddie’s name on the first line. “Camille and I wanted to contribute, anyway.” I signed it and ripped it out of the book. “Take this and put it toward your week together.”

  Freddie accepted the check and hugged me tightly. “Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”

  I waved them out of the kitchen. “I know. Now get going. You wanna get there before dark, don’t you?”

  A lump formed in my throat as I watched them drop the suitcase in the back of Freddie’s Sienna and head down the driveway toward their future.

  ***

  I changed into shorts and a tee shirt and wandered out to the garden in a strange and unguarded silence. Drifting in and out of the rows of newly sprouted peas, the whole scene felt unreal. It seemed odd not to hear the punctuating laughter and shrieks of my little companions. Even the dogs had stayed inside, snoozing on the couch. I stood alone with my thoughts and the birds, who swooped overhead from the blue spruce to the sugar maple, singing glorious symphonies.

  So much had happened recently. In the unexpected quietude, the thoughts merged, flying in and out of my brain.

  The fire. The discovery of the red welts on Lily’s back. Thom’s sudden death. The funeral. And the recovery of her identity papers.

  I still wanted to know who had hurt her.

  Kip’s awakening. The strange Novacom reps and their agitated and rude behavior. Kip’s discovery of his son, Curtis, and their tender reunion. The knowledge that Arabella was actually still alive.

  And what about this connection with Glenn Miller? Would the world ever discover the truth about his disappearance? Was Kip privy to the facts behind this seventy-year-old mystery?

  I tried to place each thought in its proper cubbyhole in my brain, then eased the doors shut.

  Leaning down, I tugged on a dandelion in the corner of the garden. It wasn’t too deep, and came out more easily than I expected. As I rested on my haunches and pulled at a few clumps of crab grass, I gazed across the yard as if seeing it for the first time.

  The hillock of dirt I’d turned into a perennial patch by the back of the barn swirled with blue. Clouds of forget-me-nots, riotous and overrunning the edges, floated above the ground in colorful splendor. Beside them, blossoms of the purple money plant glowed like jewels in the late afternoon sun.

  Patches of vibrant tulips, deep crimson, white with purple edging, pale yellow, and outrageous clumps of fluorescent orange circled the tree trunks between the barn and house. They grew thick, six or eight deep in massive rings. I made a mental note to have Oscar document the glory of spring, knowing he would capture the beauty forever with his unique photographic style.

  The apple, plum, and peach trees bloomed in various stages. I walked toward the Gala apple tree and drew a branch toward my face, inhaling the perfect sweetness of the blossoms. Creamy white with rose edging, the blooms felt soft against my face, but dislodged easily from their branch and fluttered to the ground in wafting cascades of snowy petals.

  A touch of color caught my attention in the asparagus patch. There, mingled in the thick layer of straw, something purple grew. At first, I thought it might be a volunteer Johnny-jump-up, but when I got closer I realized the tender tip of a new asparagus shoot had broken through the ground. My heart beat faster and I knelt beside the long patch, pulling back layers of straw to reveal stalks of young asparagus.

  I unearthed three-dozen spears. Working my way down the row, I snapped them off at the base and collected them in a hammock I made with the bottom of my tee shirt. The purple-tipped variety had the same delectable taste as the green, and my mouth watered as I mentally sifted through my asparagus recipes.

  I turned toward the house just as Siegfried and Lily arrived in the Jeep.

  Lily headed inside and Siegfried hailed me. “Professor. How’s it going?” His words sounded laced with sadness. Or concern. I couldn’t quite tell.

  “I’m good, Sig.” I motioned toward the picnic table and laid the asparagus down as he straddled the bench on the other side. I told him about Kip and Curtis, and Freddie and Adam.

  “That is good about Mr. Kip. He will have a son now, Ja? But I knew about Freddie and Adam. They told me before I took Lily to her English lesson.”

  “So, I’m the last to know about this, too. Typical. I’m always the last to know, huh?”

  I thought the little joke might earn a smile, but he remained solemn.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  His face tightened and he passed a hand rapidly over his hair, moving a stray strand out of his eyes. “I… it…” Tears swelled in the corners of his eyes.

  “What is it, Sig? Can I help?”

  He brushed the moisture away as if trying to
deny whatever truth had led him to such sorrow. “Nein. It is Lily. She told me something bad today.”

  I waited for him to collect himself.

  “She used a little English. But mostly making movements with her hands.”

  “What did she say, buddy?”

  He drew a deep breath and flushed. “I put my hand on her shoulder, by mistake. She hurt. I asked why.”

  I nodded, encouraging him to continue. “And?”

  “She points to the picture of her brother on the bureau.” His eyes welled again. “She pretends to hit something with a belt. And after, she points to her back.”

  My heart sank. “Oh, Sig. I’m sorry.” I covered his hand with mine. “Could you get any sense of why he did it?” As if there’d be any reason on earth that would justify such horrible behavior, I thought.

  He shook his head and raised his clear blue eyes to mine, like a child numbed by his virginal brush with evil. “Why?” he asked, choking on the word. “Why would he do that?”

  Why does anyone hurt another being? I couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t imagine any reason on earth why he would hit his sister. Was he an alcoholic? Did he fly into drunken rages and she just happened to be in the room? Was he abused as a child? Was this a manifestation of some horrendous childhood?

  A cowbird sang overhead. The sound floated down and around us, making the harsh truth seem even viler. And I had no answer for my gentle friend. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  ***

  I’d just strained the asparagus in the steamer basket when Camille and Shelby came home. Shelby dropped her backpack on the floor, grabbed a hunk of banana bread and some milk, and sauntered into the great room to listen to Ella Fitzgerald. Max and Boris sat beside her and begged for tidbits, tails beating on the rug and doggy eyes following her every move.

  Camille greeted me with a warm hug and seemed to collapse into me. I held her for a long time, and mumbled into her hair. “You okay, baby?”

  She nodded, pushed back, and searched my eyes. “I’ll live, but I just spent an hour calming down my mother. She thinks Freddie and Adam are making a huge mistake.” An eye roll followed and she sank onto a kitchen chair. “Do you know how hard that was?”

  I smiled at her. “Indeed.”

  She managed a small laugh and shot me a look of mild concern. “You’re okay with this, aren’t you?”

  I chuckled. “I don’t understand why everyone makes such a big deal about it. We’ve had our share of big weddings. You know my wedding to Elsbeth was overdone. And Freddie’s first wedding was huge, too. That’s why I was so glad you agreed to a nice small ceremony for us. All those trappings are just extras. They’re not necessary.”

  She relaxed. “I told Freddie you’d say that.”

  I pulled her up again and wrapped my arms around her waist. “So, you knew, too?”

  Shelby called from the great room. “She told me, too, Dad.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “The last to know. It’s just my destiny, I guess.”

  Camille kissed my mouth and ran one finger down my nose and to my lips. “You’re so abused. Poor baby.”

  I laughed and turned to the fridge. “Let’s get the toast made. There will be five of us tonight, so we need about ten pieces.”

  She reached for the plates in the cabinet. “Are you kidding? Siegfried will eat at least four, maybe five pieces.”

  I snorted and agreed. “Okay, let’s make fifteen.”

  Over dinner, I relayed the news about Curtis and Kip. Although I wasn’t sure if Lily understood, Camille and Shelby babbled back and forth with excitement, imagining the reunion of Bella and Kip, discussing Curtis’s life, wondering if he was married with children, and more.

  On Siegfried’s fifth piece of buttered toast and asparagus, he stopped to wipe his mouth with a paper napkin. “Professor? You will have Mr. Kip and his new son for dinner Sunday, Ja?”

  I took a swig of cold milk and smiled. “Of course. Kip’s really grown on me, and he loved meeting you guys. What are a few more places at the table? We’ve got room.”

  Siegfried looked up in surprise, his eyes clouded with confusion. “He grows on you? Like a plant?”

  Shelby snorted a laugh and I held up one hand to explain. “No, no. It’s just an expression. It means I’ve become very fond of him. That’s all.”

  He chuckled in relief. “Ah. Gut. Ja, we all like Mr. Kip.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  On Tuesday morning at ten, I drove to the nursing home to visit Kip. When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw three patients—former patients—being escorted outside by family members. An elderly Chinese gentleman, who had been completely mute, walked with what appeared to be his wife and two sons toward a black Saab. He moved slowly, but chatted with them, laughing and joking. They loaded his bags and waved to me on the way out.

  A woman who I’d mentally referred to as the yellow bathrobe lady passed me on the arm of a young man. Dressed in a dated white suit and heels, she squeezed past me at the entrance. I almost didn’t recognize her. We exchanged smiles and she walked tall toward a life she’d lost years ago, to be reclaimed a few weeks after starting the Memorphyl.

  The Novacom rep maneuvered a cart along the hallway with three large boxes of Memorphyl on top. He passed and ignored an elderly black man dressed in a suit, who carried his own suitcase and walked slowly on his wife’s arm. The expression of joy on her face nearly brought me to tears. Her husband had been lost to her, and now he’d returned.

  Smiling at them, my heart swelled and the word miracle repeated in my brain.

  I rounded the corner to Kip’s room to find Debbie loitering in the doorway, her cart of pills by her side. She leaned in, as if listening to something of great interest.

  I moved up beside her and realized she was watching Curtis and Kip. Kip held the phone to his ear, and spoke with emotion into the receiver, nodding and smiling and nodding some more.

  “He’s talking to Bella,” she whispered. “She’s coming home next week to see him.”

  A romantic wave washed over me as I leaned against the doorsill and unabashedly listened. Kip raised a hand to me, and I waved back. Curtis beamed beside him.

  I listened to the conversation for a while, then glanced down and noticed the cart full of pills.

  The white cups of pills, normally full of bright pink, were now filled with yellow.

  “What happened to the Memorphyl?” I asked Debbie in a hushed whisper.

  She shrugged, still smiling at Kip. “It’s no biggie. They just changed the colorant. Said it was irritating some of the patient’s stomachs. Something about allergies to the dye.”

  I nodded. “Oh, good. That’s one drug I’d tell them not to mess with. It’s not only a treatment, it appears to be a cure.”

  With a wistful smile, she brushed a loose lock back from her face. “A cure is right. We’ve discharged four people today. They’re going home to resume their lives. Pretty soon these memory centers will be out of business.”

  She laughed, but the words struck a chord of truth. What would happen if all the Alzheimer’s patients were cured?

  Curtis excused himself from his father’s side and stepped toward us. “Hello, Gus.”

  I shook his warm hand and gestured to his father. “Bella?”

  He grinned. “Yes. They’ve been on the phone for a half hour already. He doesn’t seem to want to hang up.”

  “Well, they do have a lot of catching up to do.”

  He turned to Debbie. “I hope to get Dad’s room ready by Sunday. Mom’s coming back up from Florida the next day. They’re both going to live with me. My house is so huge, I’m going to welcome the company.”

  I wanted to ask him if he lived alone, but it wasn’t the time. Did he have a wife? Children? Something about the sadness in his demeanor hinted at recent loss.

  “Well, I’m going back to the school. Just wanted to check in on Kip and see if he was doing okay. I didn’t
mean to intrude.” I waved to Kip, who beamed and waved back. Turning to Curtis again, I whispered. “If you need any help getting him moved in, just holler. I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

  He took my hand again and squeezed it. “I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for my father and me. You can’t imagine…”

  I waved away his thanks with a smile, and backed out the door. “It was my pleasure.”

  Debbie sighed and leaned against the doorjamb again, basking in the light of lovers reunited. “Bye, Gus. See you tomorrow.” She didn’t turn, but fluttered her fingers over her shoulder.

  A pang of sadness hit me when I passed the plastic mannequin at the receptionist desk. True to course, she studied her long red nails and avoided my eyes.

  After this week, Kip would be safely ensconced in his son’s home. He wouldn’t need my help any more.

  The sense of impending loss surprised me. We’d only been friends for a short while, but there had been something so satisfying about our relationship, I’d looked forward to our daily visits. Being needed by someone so lost and alone felt good. Helping him remember, solving his mysteries…it was wonderful. It hit me as I pushed out into the April sunshine.

  Kip might not need me any more. But I’ll miss him.

  I resolved not to let the friendship die because of changes in circumstances, and planned to follow Siegfried’s lead to invite all three of them to the house for Sunday dinner, once they’d settled in and been properly reunited. I crossed the parking lot with more bounce in my step, jumped into the car, and returned to my office.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  On Wednesday afternoon, our mother hen returned to the roost. Mrs. Adelaide Pierce, housekeeper and nurturer extraordinaire, breezed into the kitchen in her flowered housedress and chunky black shoes, put on her apron, and started washing dishes.

  “Adelaide, welcome home,” I said.

  Humming her favorite show tunes, she frowned and wiped down the faucet as if it had grown thick with bacteria since she’d been gone. “My goodness, Gus. What happened to my sink?”