Fatal, Family, Album

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  What an ugly future was in store for the Owens family.

  Nancy fiddled around in the area of her seat cushion and brought up her scarf. Winding it slowly around her neck, she said, “Rochelle has told me in no uncertain terms that she’ll never, ever get over her dad marrying me. She’s gone as far as telling me that I’ll regret this as long as I live.”

  By mutual agreement, Nancy and I gathered our belongings and walked to the door. In the soft glow of the sodium-vapor lamps, snowflakes spun their way to earth. The day had been cold and heavy; the night was colder still and oppressive. The moist and damp atmosphere seemed to pin us down. Instead of enjoying the expansiveness associated with the out-of-doors, I felt claustrophobia. I couldn’t get over the sad story that Nancy had shared, and I wished—oh, how I wished!—that she hadn’t burdened me with her misery. The thought of living under the same roof with someone who actively wanted you dead made me weak in the knees. Hadn’t I grown up in a similar environment? With a father who was dangerous?

  How bizarre it would be to hear such threats from the mouth of a teen. How frightening it would be to know your husband didn’t believe his daughter plotted against you. The whole story sounded like something straight out of Rebecca!

  Coming back to the here and now, I shook my head. Just the memory of Nancy Owens’ misery cast a pall over me. I told myself, “She’s dead and I’m not. I have to cheer up.”

  My gloomy thoughts traveled with me as I drove home. I took the back way, avoiding heavy traffic. I needed to calm down and clear my head. But my plan didn’t work. Instead, I grew more and more anxious as my old BMW moved along from one darkened street to the next. I pulled into the garage with a sigh of relief. Our house seemed strangely quiet as I walked from the garage past the laundry room and into our kitchen. Usually Anya and Erik are buzzing around, hopping up and down while doing their homework at the dining room table.

  Not tonight.

  I missed my daughter. This gave me a sudden empathy for Bert Owens. No wonder he had bent over backwards to keep his child happy. What parent wouldn’t? Especially if that parent felt responsible for creating chaos in a child’s life?

  Entering the kitchen, I realized I’d brought along my very own little cloud of freezing air. Gracie galloped down the stairs and greeted me by standing on two feet and putting a front paw on each of my shoulders. Her tail thumped the wall repeatedly, indicating how happy she was to see me. The warmth of my home blanketed me as I sniffed the air appreciatively. The savory fragrances of garlic, onion, celery, and chicken set my mouth to watering. Brawny must have put on a pot of chicken noodle soup. How wonderful it was to come home to a hot meal! From the oven came the fragrance of popovers.

  “What have ye heard from Anya?” Brawny had followed Gracie down the stairs. Standing before me, she was wringing her hands, a motion you read about but rarely see.

  “Nothing. Not a peep. How are the boys?”

  “Better, but they both have had a bit of a temperature off and on. They’re asleep right now.” Her head tilted as she regarded me seriously. “Anya hasn’t had any communication with you at all?”

  “No. Has she texted you?”

  After watching Brawny shake her head in the negative, I said, “Me neither. I’ve texted her. Usually she texts a message or two between classes. Not today.”

  I turned my back on Brawny because I was struggling with tears, but Gracie saw me. The big black-and-white giant stood on two legs, putting her blocky muzzle at eye-level with me. Those brown eyes searched my soul. Sensing how hurt I was, Gracie did something I’ve rarely seen her do—she yodeled.

  “My, my.” Brawny stared at the dog in wonder.

  “It’s okay, girl.” I rubbed the big dog’s ears and eased her back to a four-paw structure.

  “She’s not happy that you’re upset.”

  “Nope.”

  “Have you spoken to Mrs. Moore?”

  “Yes. Earlier today. She assures me that Anya is coming around.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I do, too.”

  For the next two hours, I kept myself busy, washing and folding clothes, hoping the distraction would help. It didn’t. Not much. In fact, I was getting more and more depressed when Jennifer called.

  “Sorry, but I wanted to speak to you without the kids overhearing,” she explained.

  “No problem,” I lied.

  “Anya is fine, but I can tell she’s sad. On the way home from school, Nicci asked Anya to help her re-organize her closet. You can imagine how excited Anya is about that!”

  Despite myself, I laughed. Sheila has always made sure that Anya has adorable clothes to wear. My child is appreciative of her grandmother’s generosity, but Anya has never shown the same level of interest in her wardrobe that most of her female classmates have. In fact, my daughter has told me that she finds Nicci’s passion for fashion to be tedious.

  “We both know that Anya would rather have a tooth filled than help Nicci organize her closet. She’s only being agreeable so she can play the part of a good guest. You’ve taught her well, Kiki.”

  “Thanks, I think. What should I do, Jennifer?” I couldn’t help myself. I hated the fact that Anya and I were estranged.

  “You have the hardest job possible. You have to do nothing. Nothing at all. You have to wait Anya out. This is going to get old for Anya really fast. Hang in there.”

  ~*~

  With three kids and three adults, laundry is an ongoing process, not a task that ever ceases. Erik woke up grumpy, but now he was happily watching Sponge Bob Square Pants in the family room. I dumped a warm basket of clothes on the sofa next to him and folded as he watched.

  Erik asked me if he could help. I gave him the washcloths to fold.

  I could tell that he was both lonely and happy that Anya was gone. After all, he’d gone from being an only child to one of three in the space of six months. His idea of heaven was not having to share any attention, having both me and Brawny to himself. Especially since he was getting over being sick, he acted clingy. I couldn’t blame him. Poor dude. After dinner, we went back into the family room. He crawled up into my lap and snuggled in. At his behest, I read him one book after another. When I needed him to hop down so I could nurse Ty, he left me reluctantly and crawled into Brawny’s lap. It was her turn to read to him, and she did until his bedtime. Ty was already asleep in my arms.

  “Let me check Erik’s temperature and then I’ll take the baby upstairs to bed.” From a pocket of her sweatpants, she withdrew the flat thermometer and pressed it against Erik’s forehead. “Still one hundred degrees. No school for you tomorrow, young sir.”

  The nanny waved the flat thermometer at me. “Let me check Ty.”

  The baby’s temperature was slightly higher than normal, too. Now she gave me a once-over. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired.” Realizing she needed the truth, I added, “A little sore.”

  “Not surprising. You shouldn’t be lifting anything or working so hard. Not to mention climbing stairs with the baby in your arms. Hand Ty to me and I’ll put him in his crib.”

  The transfer was made without waking the baby. Brawny stared down at me. “You should try to get some sleep. You have a crop on Friday, right?”

  “Right. Also one on Saturday. Just call me a glutton for punishment. Erik?” I beckoned to the little boy as the nanny left the room. “Would you walk upstairs with me?”

  Even though his eyes were droopy, he wasn’t ready to give in. “I don’t want to go to my room. I’m not sleepy.”

  “Well, I sure am.” I held out my hand. He obligingly hopped off the sofa and came to me. “Would you mind if I lie down on your bed? Just for a minute or two? I am so tired. Maybe we could read together.”

  Of course, he couldn’t read. Not yet. But he liked to pretend he could. He especially enjoyed the Where’s Waldo series that had once enthralled Anya.

  Anya.

  Was I just tired? Had I overexerted myself? Or w
as the ache I felt a symptom of missing my daughter?

  Keeping a strong grip on my fingers, Erik led me up the stairs. Once we made it to his room, I put the overhead light on low by using the dimmer switch. “Erik, honey, can you go and get me my Kindle? It’s beside the bed.”

  The self-important way he walked suggested that he was thrilled to be my big helper. He came back with the e-reader in hand and solemnly presented it to me. I thanked him, and we snuggled together on his big boy bed, a twin-sized mattress we’d put on the floor just in case he rolled off it.

  As the warm skin of his neck rested against my arm, I reminded myself to cherish these moments. Since coming to live with us last summer, he’s slowly come to accept me. I wasn’t his birth mother, and I hoped that he would never forget Gina, but he called me Mama Kiki, and on occasion, just plain Mama. Those first few months, he would only go to Brawny if he needed comfort. Now it was Brawny first, then Detweiler, and I was running a close third.

  He was clingy now because he was sick. When kids don’t feel well, a parent is a source of great comfort. I realized that many businesses don’t understand why working women need to stay home with their sick children, but the reality is that no one knows your child like you do. No one can comfort a sick kid like a mother or primary caregiver. If you are forced to go to work and leave that child with a caregiver, you won’t be able to concentrate anyway.

  I think it’s funny that companies want to hire “good” people but then they want those same people to ignore other priorities in their lives. How could a responsible person ignore his/her aging parent or sick child? They couldn’t. A person who would ignore the needs of family is hardly likely to be loyal to co-workers. Yet, many businesses penalize people for showing responsibility when a family member needs help. That flat out doesn’t make any sense.

  Considering both boys were still feverish, Anya’s absence was well-timed. Because she was out of the house, she probably wouldn’t get the tummy bug her brothers had contracted. I could spend quality time with Erik. I didn’t need to worry about Anya’s needs, so my attention wasn’t divided between them. At this stage of his life, Ty was an eating and pooping machine. Sure, he was learning all sorts of things like what his fist tasted like and that crying helped you get what you want, but his need for my attention was limited. Since babies sleep so much, I could concentrate on Erik.

  I told myself this was a good thing. A very good thing.

  So why did I feel empty inside?

  CHAPTER 16

  Detweiler came home and slept on the sofa rather than wake me up. He planted a kiss on my cheek before he left for work, since I had to get up then anyway. I had dreamed about Anya, and consequently, I woke up with a dream hangover, a fog that sticks around even after you’re up and back to the world of the living. Regardless, I got ready for work and slapped on a cheery face when talking to Erik over breakfast. His temp was down a degree. Not yet normal, but definitely on the mend. Ty nursed and fussed. His temp was unchanged. Brawny gave them both doses of liquid Tylenol. We’d decided that only one of us should do the dispensing so there couldn’t possibly be a mistake. Once again, I found myself grateful that she was a part of our lives.

  As I walked past Anya’s empty room, I suddenly remembered that poor Clancy hadn’t heard from her adult children in weeks. Who was I to be whining about my daughter? After my toast with almond butter, a bowl of fresh fruit, and my coffee, I hustled Gracie into my car. On my way to work, I practiced smiling. I even sang silly songs to get my spirits up. We have a simple rule at the store: Only one person can be down in the dumps at a time.

  I had to pull up my big girl panties and get a grip on my life.

  Clancy must have come to the same conclusion. She seemed totally energized. When I asked her what she’d put in her coffee, she answered, “Matcha. My spirits were dragging and I was having trouble waking up, so I stopped by a grocery store and bought a bottle of matcha. It’s a superfood made from dried and ground up green tea leaves. The antioxidants in it are off the chart. So’s the caffeine, but it doesn’t give me the jitters. Matcha helps me focus and stay in a good mood.”

  I was impressed. After that little commercial, I busied myself planning the Friday and Saturday night fundraising crops for Zoo Keepers. First I went to my computer and pulled up everything that was public knowledge about the event and the people who were involved. I learned there would be an appearance by one of the local high schools’ marching bands. Further research pulled up more interesting facts. Not only was the Budapest zoo one of the oldest in the world, but in 2007, it was also the birthplace of the first rhino born from artificial insemination. No wonder Hungary would be represented when Prince William came to visit our zoo!

  Excited by this new information, I decided that in addition to the zoo pages, I would design a page featuring Budapest, our Sister City. I cut out strips of red, white, and green, so that croppers could use the colors in that order to recreate the Hungarian flag. A small map of the country added a fun touch as well. As an afterthought, a gold star was included in the page kits to make it easy for people to mark the country’s capital.

  I was totally absorbed in what I was doing. So much so that I didn’t notice that Clancy was standing at my elbow until she spoke up. “Cute, but if we don’t put together a description of the event, all your hard work will be wasted. No one will know about it, and no one will come.” She picked up the tiny map of Hungary, just as we heard a knock on the back door. She carried the map along with her as she let Curtis in.

  “Hungary!” His face brightened when he noticed what she was holding.

  Gracie got up from her dog bed and wandered over to sniff the newcomer. Fortunately, Curtis wasn’t scared by big pooches. In fact, he loved up Gracie as if she were his own stuffed dog. She wagged that huge tail of hers hard enough to beat a cadence against the drywall. After letting her indulge her love of affection, I put Gracie back in her doggy playpen, and Curtis went to work.

  On that happy note, Clancy and I came up with descriptions and prices for the page kits.

  “I still need a mega-cute project for the event.” We’re known far and wide for the diverse papercrafting ideas I’ve produced. No fun crop would be a success without one. I put on my metaphorical “thinking cap” and went to my work table to get down to the nitty-gritty of crafting.

  Although the tabletop wasn’t too wet to use, it was definitely damp. Curtis helped me spread a thick layer of oilcloth on the surface. With my self-healing craft mats, that would be enough for me to use while spreading out my papers and supplies. Now all I lacked was inspiration.

  Because Will and Kate were coming to town, and because they were bringing their two young children, I decided the focus should be on kids and animals. After all, that was a natural pairing.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with these?” Curtis held up a large yellow plastic container. Inside were toys we kept here at the store for the express purpose of keeping children busy while their mothers shopped. A doll’s arm stuck out as did a molded plastic dinosaur. Clancy could easily wash and sanitize both, a chore we did weekly, although we sprayed the contents of the box with a sanitized spray at the beginning of each business day. While Curtis patiently held the tub, I rustled around in it, doing a touch-test to see how wet the toys were. My fingers found a thick board book, and I pulled it out.

  “Would you mind taking the rest of this stuff to Clancy in the back?”

  “Not at all.” The lilt in his voice suggested he had a tiny crush on my pal.

  Good, I thought. A bit of positive attention would be perfect for Clancy’s ego right now. Although I hadn’t asked, I was fairly certain she hadn’t heard from her kids. If she had, she would have told me.

  I set the board book on the oil cloth. It had to have been the ugliest, dumbest board book I’ve ever seen. Clancy had found it at a garage sale. I’ve often said, “I’ve never seen a book I didn’t like!” But I had to make an exception for this o
ne.

  The pictures were poorly drawn. There was no story line. The colors were ugly. Our young visitors ignored the book, and who could blame them? Actually, of all the stuff that was worthy of tossing out after our fire, this travesty rose to the top of the list.

  Or did it?

  Only one corner of the last page was damp. The other sturdy cardboard pages were fine. The book measured six by five inches. There were eight pages internally, plus a front and back cover. Ten surfaces that I could transform into a zoo-themed album. Yes, this was an ugly book, but it wasn’t the only ugly book in the world. There were probably more like it. I could send Clancy to Goodwill and thrift shops for the purpose of buying more of these hard-cover children’s board books. If we could get them cheaply enough, they could form the basis of a terrific project, a zoo book.

  With that in mind, I dove into my project. A couple of hours later, I had an adorable finished album. One crop down, one to go. If I could come up with another great idea, that would encourage people to attend both crops, instead of just one.

  Thinking, thinking, thinking…

  I needed a bathroom break.

  “Did you hear the latest?” Clancy came into the back room. She held her phone in one hand. “I get these news alerts, and one just came through. They’re going to issue tickets to control the flow of visitors to the zoo on Sunday when Will and Kate are there.”

  “Makes sense. I presume they’ll vet the visitors, too.”

  “Yes,” Clancy said as she scrolled down the screen. “To apply for a ticket, you have to send in your driver’s license number, passport number, and other personal information. Once they decide if you’ve passed the vetting test, they’ll put all interested parties into a hopper and draw names. Sounds fair enough.”

  “I guess it does.” With that, I ducked into the john.

  After doing my business and washing my hands, I changed out the toilet paper because the roll was down to its two last squares. Holding the paper tube in my hand, I had a brainstorm. Why not turn empty tubes like this into animals? By flattening the tube, you would make an envelope, a sleeve. Into that you could put a narrow album. How cute would that be? Super-cute!