Welcome the Little Children

by Lynda McDaniel

  “Yeah, and pigs fly,” Horne spat. “Come on, buddy, that just doesn’t make sense. She makes a long trek home, then suddenly decides to leave you and the kids, taking nothing but that tiny suitcase? And heading where? Back to the goddam bus stop? On foot? At night? Are you kidding me?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. She came back and went wild. I knew she hated Maddie, and I knew I’d been wrong to take up with her, but Lilah was so hard to live with. I got mad and told her to go away and leave us alone. I was sick of the upheavals, and the kids were all torn up by her tirades. I said she was welcome to come back if she ever got it together.”

  “I’m not buying it, son. Something’s happened to that woman, and you’re the last to see her alive.” Horne left that hanging in the air. Enoch looked over at me for help, but I didn’t have any to give. I didn’t know what had happened; this would have to play out Horne’s way. “I need you to come down to the station with me. I want to go over this again, and this time get at the truth.” Horne started dragging Enoch toward his car.

  I stood in front of the steps leading off the deck. “Wait a minute, Horne. We need to figure out what to do about Astrid and Dee.”

  Horne restrained himself while Enoch and I talked. I noticed two scared kids creeping outside to watch, so I tried for a cheery voice when I told Enoch they could stay with me. There was no one else to call on, and Jake would help take their minds off the nightmare unfolding in their lives.

  When Horne began pushing Enoch into the backseat behind the metal grid, Dee started crying. I picked him up while Astrid ran to the car window to tell her father that the “authorities” were wrong, she just knew it.

  Jake did make the ride home easier. I could hear both kids in the back, patting him and talking gently to him. When we got to the store, we all scrambled up the steps. As soon as I opened the door, their moods lifted, as if it were all a big adventure. The home above a store!

  I pulled together a simple dinner of soup and cheese, whole wheat bread and apple—not all that different from the first meal Astrid and I shared. Then I made the bed in the guest room and asked if they wanted to stay together, or did one want to sleep on the couch in the living room? “Together,” they said in unison.

  The next day, I was on duty at the store. I couldn’t afford to take more time off, so I took the kids with me. Astrid acted like a twenty-something sales person and talked with all the customers. It was fun for her to play store, like I used to do at her age. Give her a couple more days of it, I thought. But I had to admit—I enjoyed her company and the customers seemed to get a kick out of her, too.

  Dee colored in the back with crayons and books Cleva brought with her. She helped keep an eye on him, drinking coffee and eating anything she wanted from the store (and taking more home with her). It was a good deal for both of us.

  That evening, I was glad for the chance to get to know Dee better. He wasn’t as impish as Astrid, but he seemed like a happy little boy, playing with some toys Cleva left for him. And, of course, Astrid helped me with dinner.

  I couldn’t imagine what would happen to those kids if Enoch were sent to jail for any length of time. More than likely, they’d get caught up in the family services bureaucracy. Horne seemed hell bent on making a case against him, and I had to admit it wasn’t looking good. He was convinced that after Lilah told Enoch she was leaving for good, Enoch harmed her somehow, pushing her and that suitcase Otis Cale’s dog discovered down the cliff and into the water.

  While the kids stayed with me, I could tell they enjoyed the relative quiet at my home. They played together with an innocence that was both sweet and heartbreaking. They were too young—even twenty-something Astrid—to know how serious things were for their father.

  The next evening, just after dinner—I’d made spaghetti and meatballs, which seemed a hit given the red smears on both the kids’ faces—I was washing dishes when I saw Lonnie’s cruiser pull up and park in front of the store. Enoch got out and said something to him before shutting the car door.

  “Your daddy’s here,” I said. Both kids jumped up and opened the door just as Enoch got to the top of the stairs. He hugged them and murmured something only they could hear. He nodded at me and looked at the mess in the kitchen.

  “Smells good. I don’t suppose there’re any leftovers.”

  I smiled. “You’re luck has finally changed.”

  After Enoch finished dinner, I drove them home. Astrid and Dee were sound asleep in the back, so Enoch talked freely. Something about riding in the dark, the warm interior lit only by greenish dashboard light, must have felt safe as a confessional. “I begged for a lie detector test, but the sheriff just scoffed; said it wouldn’t stand up in court. After a while, though, I think even he knew he didn’t have anything to hold me on. He left Deputy Parker to watch over me while he drove to Spruce Pine to interview Maddie again. Thank God she described it just like I had, with Lilah storming off on her own.”

  I waited a beat and asked why he or Maddie hadn’t told Horne about this earlier.

  “We’d talked about it, and in twenty-twenty hindsight, we should have. But at the time, we believed the confession of an adulterous relationship would just make matters worse. It didn’t happen all that often. I knew it was wrong, but sometimes I got so lonely. Haven’t you ever felt that way?”

  I nodded. I’d felt lonely much of my life. “Okay, but what was she doing at your house that night?”

  “Great timing, huh? Maddie’d called and asked if she could come over. I thought Lilah was gone on one of her jaunts, so I said yes. She said she’d make us dinner, which sounded great; I don’t need to tell you I’m not much of a cook, and Astrid said she was ‘unavailable.’ While we were alone in the kitchen, Maddie started harping on me to push out Lilah so she could move in. I guess a lot of people get to feeling awful lonely out here in the mountains. But I couldn’t ask the kids to just forget their mother—crazy as she was—and throw Maddie a housewarming party. We were arguing, and I told her it was over. I was sick and tired of women telling me what to do.

  “Then the door flew open, and Lilah went haywire. She ranted a while, took off her barn coat, changed into something warmer, and ran out. I swear I don’t know where. After she left, I told Maddie she could spend the night—on the sofa. I’m damned glad I did, too. I wouldn’t have an alibi without her.” He paused before adding, “I feel guilty as hell, but I don’t miss Lilah. The kids aren’t as edgy, either. We could never figure out how not to piss her off. We’re better off without her.”

  20

  Abit

  I’d moved on, best I could, after Fiona told me to get lost. Not that she’d had the decency to tell me to my face. No, she’d used my answering machine, just saying that same thing about not having kids would be like cutting off a limb. I kept hoping she’d call back so we could talk things through. After more than a month went by, I gave up.

  Things like that change you, as surely as a scar on your face makes you look different. But a scar on the inside does even more damage. It runs deeper, out of sight. You’re never the same person after somethin’ like that. How could you be? Those old-timers I sat with outside Della’s store—I used to wonder how they got so broken. No more.

  Just when the hurt was easing some, damned if that man I saw Fiona swaying with at a concert didn’t show up at the shop. Dr. Gerald Navarro, he said as he shook my hand (his hand so cold and limp it reminded me I needed to cook that trout Tater Matthews brought over). The Doctor was taller than me and so out of my league, I felt like a real hick, what with sawdust in my hair and them baggy overalls. At least he’d taken off his white coat, but his shoes were shiny, his shirt pressed and unwrinkled late in the day, and his suit perfectly tailored. Even his beard looked clean shaven, not creeping up on five o’clock shadow like mine.

  He walked all round my shop, running his hands over works in progress, like I needed his damn fingerprints messing up the finish. Finally he said, “Fiona speaks so highl
y of your woodworking skills,” beaming like a preacher blessing his flock. “I want to order a dining room table for her new apartment.”

  New apartment? That meant I didn’t know where she was living anymore; I couldn’t even picture her sitting on her couch or easy chair, looking out at that big oak tree shading her front window. And Dr. Gerald Navarro seemed to have no idea I’d been her true love, oncet upon a time. I didn’t tell him she was still mine.

  He asked a bunch of stupid questions before ordering a curly maple table, four-foot by three-foot rectangle with curved legs. I had trouble writing up the order form, my hands were shaking so bad. And I did somethin’ I’d later feel ashamed of: I charged him extra. Maybe that went against my notion of “be kind,” but it helped take some of the sting out of the order, at least at that moment. Not a lot, but enough to ease my pain. Like Della’d said, I needed to be kind to me, too.

  I was glad The Doctor was already heading to his car when Shiloh came back from meditating, though he seemed to know exactly what had just happened. We both looked out the window as he drove off in a Porsche. “Figures” Shiloh said as he squeezed my shoulder. “Sorry I ever told that joke.”

  I wished he’d left it at that, but he went real quiet-like. “What?” I asked.

  “What do you mean ‘what?’?”

  “You’re pondering somethin’. I can tell.”

  “We’re getting like an old married couple,” Shiloh said, pulling on his mustache. “I was just thinking about the Second Noble Truth: According to Buddha, the basic cause of suffering is ‘the attachment to the desire to have and the desire not to have.’ That’s why you’re suffering. You want what you can’t have.”

  I was so heartsick, I just ignored him. I didn’t have the stamina for two jerks in one hour.

  After that, I went over to Della’s, saying I needed to buy some milk, but we both knew I was after somethin’ besides groceries. I told her about my afternoon.

  “Did you tell Shiloh to go fuck himself?” I could tell Della was mad; her face had turned bright red. She got that way when folks dumped their judgments on me—or really anyone she liked. “First the so-called Christians did a number on you while you were growing up, and now the laughing Buddha is having a go. What’s next? You don’t know any communists do you?”

  I chuckled a little and answered both questions. “I didn’t say anything like that to Shiloh, and I don’t know any commies.”

  “Opportunity lost,” Della said as she priced some funny looking spaghetti.

  “Yeah, but I have to work with him. I need his help.”

  “Well, there’s that,” she said, though I could tell she hated to admit it. “I have a lot of respect for Buddhists—real ones,” she went on, “but Shiloh has grasped just enough to be dangerous. I hate it when any convert, be it Christian, Buddhist, or whatever, uses tenets like weapons against someone trying his best. That’s not how they’re meant to be lived.”

  “Well, when he started up again, I did tell him to take a long walk offa short pier.”

  She smiled. “Of course you’d find better words.”

  By then it was closing time, so she invited me up for an easy supper, as she called it. She’d poached some salmon that she put atop lettuce with an amazing creamy dressing. Said it had avocado in it, but I couldn’t figure where she’d got ahold of one of them round here. We focused on eating for a while, but after a spell, she asked, “What kind of table are you making that damn doctor?”

  “I’m not making it for him, Della. I’m making it for Fiona.”

  I didn’t know which of us was more surprised when, all of a sudden, Della started to cry. I couldn’t recall when I’d seen her broken up like that. She excused herself and went into the bathroom. I could hear her blowing her nose and all, and when she came back she said two things: “Abit, I’m proud to know you,” and “All I’ve got for dessert is chocolate ice cream.”

  As if that were a problem.

  I put everything I had into that table. I chose my best curly maple boards and sanded the table as smooth as Fiona would’ve. I worked so hard, I started dripping sweat into the wood. After a time, I realized they were tears. I tried sanding them out, but they were as stubborn as my heartache. Under the table, I carved the initials RB + FO for Rabbit Bradshaw + Fiona O’Donnell. They were tucked up near one of the leg joints. You’d have to look hard to see them.

  I got a good photo of the table before some men The Doctor hired loaded it into their truck. I was glad I didn’t have to see him again. Any satisfaction I’d gotten from charging him extra was spent.

  Late that day, I was finally finishing up Della’s table when a shadow fell across my workbench. I turned and saw Daddy standing in the doorway, looking kinda ghostly with the low sunlight shining behind him. It startled me so bad, I was glad I wasn’t working on the table saw, or I’d’ve been short two or three fingers. He’d never just stopped by in the two year I’d made my woodshop there. That didn’t surprise me, given how I was raised, but I wondered why he was coming round. I already felt down, what with my last connection to Fiona gone with that table, so I didn’t want him heaping his shit on me.

  “Daddy, what brings you over?”

  He kinda hemmed and hawed for a little before saying, “I just wanted to say that I really liked that girl, Fiona.” I braced myself for some lecture on how I’d fucked up. “And I’m sorry she disappointed all of us. You especially.”

  I couldn’t remember when Daddy had shown me any sympathy, and I was grateful for it. You’d’ve thought that might’ve made my heart hurt even more, but it eased it.

  “Thanks, Daddy. Won’t you come on in?”

  “No, no, you’re busy.”

  “But I could show you what I’m working on.”

  “Oh, I see plenty from the window—when you load it onto that Sherlock’s truck.” I’d always known there weren’t much that got past the big plate glass window at the front of the house, and maybe somehow he knew that table was for Fiona.

  “You could still come on in,” I said as I put down my chisel. When I looked up, he was gone.

  21

  Della

  “Honey, we ain’t seen each other in too long. How ‘bout I cook for us tonight? You could bring some wine and spend the night. What do you say?”

  Cleva. Best friend anyone could have. She had an uncanny way of calling at just the right time. “I say a great big, grateful yes. Can I bring anything else?”

  “Just that old hound.”

  The Holt case had gone cold, and I’d gone back to being a shopkeeper. During August, the store had been busier than ever—people gathering to speculate about our crime wave. But once school started after Labor Day, everything returned to business as usual, and my sense of plodding through life reared its head again.

  I didn’t close early, much as I wanted to, but I locked the front door at six on the nose. Jake didn’t require any convincing, hopping into the Jeep before I was ready to leave. We drove to Cleva’s, about five miles from town. Her home perched atop a ridge, not far from the falls; the rush and rumble of its waters made me relax almost as much as the friendship.

  I was looking forward to watching the sunset from Cleva’s ridge, but when we arrived, the sky seemed reluctant to give up on the day. Barely a hint of color registered along its sun-kissed horizon. When I got out of the Jeep, Jake scooted past me to stare down a squirrel. I didn’t worry about him; he’d prowl around for a while before he’d head back for his dinner, which I’d remembered to bring along.

  After we got ourselves settled, I poured two glasses of Grüner Veltliner and we carried them to Cleva’s porch, where we watched the sun offer up a few rosy rays before finally slipping away, eliciting some oohs and aahs from both of us.

  “Praising the heavens is about the only thing I feel good about these days,” I said. “I’ve seen too many sad stories. Not just living here, but in D.C. where I wrote all those articles. I know I told you about earning the nickname G
houlfriend—because I seemed to attract the most violent assignments. And I can’t even imagine the misery you’ve seen as a teacher and later a principal.”

  “Honey, I don’t want to go there,” Cleva said. “I will say this might be the best wine I’ve ever had.” We clinked glasses and sat quietly.

  Jake came over, looking at me with those big brown eyes. “Dinner?” I asked in a sing-song voice, and he twirled twice. When I put his dinner down, Cleva asked if I were ready for ours. “Let’s sit a while longer,” I said as I settled back in my chair.

  No words passed between us until I broke the silence. “Funny how they lived here fifteen years, but no one knew Lilah Holt enough to miss her. Though at the store I’ve heard murmurs about ‘those poor kids,’ which is always followed by ‘and that good for nothin’ father.’ But you know, over the weeks since I first met Enoch, I’ve come to appreciate him. Our rocky start has leveled off into respect for one another. He’s even stopped by the store, asking his own cooking questions.”

  “Yep, that’s a strange case. Do you still think they feel relieved that Lilah is gone? The thought of that breaks me up.”

  “I do. Of course, I haven’t seen Astrid in a while, but Enoch seems happier as a single dad. And Astrid was more relaxed the last time I did see her. Bipolar is such a wicked condition.” I told Cleva about my friend walking up the middle of Connecticut Avenue, and she shook her head.

  “Well, on that happy note, let’s join Jake and have some dinner.” She said it in the same sing-song I’d used with Jake. We stood and hugged each other, trying to ward off the sadness that seemed to have enveloped us.

  I’d hoped Cleva would make one of her signature dishes, and I lucked out. Chicken and dumplings with an array of fresh vegetables from her garden—tomatoes, zucchini, and green beans—on the side. At seventy-nine, Cleva hadn’t slowed down much, at least not when it came to her garden. We finished off the bottle of wine with chocolate cream pie compliments of Lonnie Parker’s mother.