Assault and Batting

by Rothery, Tess

  Colleen looked surprised but nodded. “Yes, I took it as a senior with your mom and Amara. Melinda didn't take it with us. She was in show choir. None of the rest of us could sing, but we made cookies and brought them to her concerts, her little cheering section.” She did the thing with her finger and her hair again, her movements nervous and jerky, like her words.

  Taylor didn't know who had taught the class, but she wondered if they had all learned to do that thing with their pinky finger as a way to keep food out of their hair, the way her mom had always done. The way Taylor caught herself doing now and again.

  Colleen had a lot in common with her mother, as you do when you grow up in a small town that has its own ways and culture.

  “What I wanted to say, but failed,” Colleen took a deep breath, “is that you are Belle’s sister and Belle is my family and so you are my family too. Your mother is gone, but if you need an aunt, I’m here.” She looked at Taylor, waiting.

  Taylor bit her bottom lip.

  “See, if Belle decides that she wants a relationship with me, and wants to spend, I don't know, Easter or Thanksgiving with me someday, I hope with all my heart that you would also come. Because you’re family.” Colleen rushed through her words.

  A young server with her hair in two braids interrupted them. They ordered coffee and sandwiches as though their meal together didn't hold their fate above them as the waters rose from below.

  The server left and they waited again in silence, this offer of replacement family hovering over Taylor like a cloud, or maybe like an umbrella.

  It was up to her to break the silence and she couldn't. She didn't know how. She couldn't say thank you because she didn't mean it, because she didn't want to replace her mother. She couldn't tell Colleen to go away or get out of her life, because she didn't mean that either, because the idea that there was this umbrella in the rainstorm waiting for her was something she’d be a fool to reject.

  The idea that Colleen wanted them both, even though she was fully grown and full of whatever mistakes and problems adults have, was overwhelming.

  It was good that the sandwiches came because it gave them something to talk about. Colleen said hers was delicious and she liked it.

  Taylor ate for a while in silence, then blurted out, “Who’s her father?”

  Colleen set her sandwich down. She seemed to hold her breath, and it was many moments before she answered. “His name was Brick O’ Doyle. He wasn't a good man. I don't have good memories of him. And yet in his life he did do one good thing. He created Belle.”

  Taylor nodded, absorbing the statement. It was true, he had created Belle. Without this guy, whoever he was and whatever he had done, there would be no sister for her. Her mom would still be gone, but she’d be so much more alone. “Is he someone I need to worry about?”

  Colleen shook her head slowly. “No, I didn't put him on the birth certificate. He was out of my life by then, in prison actually. Drugs.”

  “And now?”

  “He died in a fight shortly after he was released, about seven years ago. He never knew about Belle. After he was arrested, he and I never spoke again.”

  That was a relief. One less person to worry about taking Belle away.

  “When would you like the three of us to get together?” Taylor asked.

  “Will you ask Belle that question?” Colleen asked. “I'd like to do this on her schedule, in her time, as much as possible. I feel awful for rushing her. That was wrong. It was a mistake.”

  Taylor let out a slow breath, then gave her an apologetic smile. “I'll ask, but if we wait for her timing, we may be waiting forever.”

  She frowned. “But she came to see me…”

  Taylor nodded. “I know, and who knows what exactly motivated her. At least part of it had to be rebelling against me. If it sounds like I want all of us to get together she may not want to.”

  Colleen sipped her coffee. “Okay. I've been a rebellious teenager, I get it. I'll call her. I'll make sure she knows that you are still very hesitant.”

  They looked at each other, that moment of honesty standing between them. It was true. Taylor might not think Colleen had murdered her mom, but she was still very hesitant about all of this.

  Salem wasn’t Portland, but it was a big enough city to have shopping, and Taylor needed to shake the angst that meal had caused in her. She told herself she was just going to walk off the nervous energy, but she didn’t. She went straight to Hobby Lobby and cleared out their shelf of chicken wire storage items. Flour Sax was looking dated, had been for a long time. She needed to replace all the wicker with something more stylish anyway, and this was a write off. Swiping her card through the little reader sent a shiver of relief up and down her spine. She inhaled, maybe for the first time since she sat in the booth at the restaurant.

  Retail therapy indeed.

  On her way back to Comfort, she passed the restaurant again.

  It was very politic of Colleen to offer to be her “aunty” too. But she had aunties coming out of her ears, something Colleen knew very well as she had grown up in Comfort.

  Sure Taylor understood how buying things could ease a little internal combustion, but she would not let Colleen buy her affection that way. Colleen would have to prove she was worthy of Belle.

  Back at Flour Sax, Taylor acted like this mini-redecoration had always been part of the plan.

  “These are cute.” Roxy leaned her hip against the workshop table, her arms loaded with chicken wire baskets. “Where do you want them?”

  “Ummm…” Taylor scanned the main shopping area. There weren’t as many wicker baskets to replace as she’d imagined. Her first arm load had done the job. “Maybe save those for a minute? We could toss them in the small bedroom upstairs.” The smaller bedroom in the two-bedroom apartment was the one her mom had grown up in.

  Roxy stifled a giggle.

  “What?” Taylor tried to get a stack of caramels to stay in a round chicken wire style bowl. The holes were just two big. With a small grimace of irritation, she dumped two handfuls of the soft, paper wrapped candy back into the wicker basket and stuck the whole thing in the chicken wire container.

  “Sorry. That’s where your mom stuffed stuff she didn’t need after a trip to town too.”

  “Ahh.” Taylor eyeballed the baskets Roxy was holding. It was a small number compared to what was still in the Audi.

  “I thought when Amazon started its three day delivery to Comfort your mom would sort of ease up on the panic-shopping, You know, the thing where when you’re in town you feel like you need to buy all of something…since you won’t get there again any time soon.”

  “Yeah…I know the thing.” Not only had Taylor picked up all the wire containers Hobby Lobby had in store, she’d also grabbed an excessive number of mirrors framed in decorative weathered arched windows because they were on sale and would make the store brighter.

  All of the walls in Flour Sax were already either windows or floor to ceiling fabric shelves.

  “I can put these upstairs,” Roxy said, “but I’m going to town on my next day off…”

  “And you’re offering to return them?”

  “I mean, just if you accidentally got too many…” Roxy’s bright smile appeared judgement free.

  Taylor felt judged anyway. She sniffed loudly to avoid answering for a moment. “I needed some stuff for home too. I’ll just take it all.”

  “Sure, that’s fine.” Roxy set the baskets on the counter and shifted from foot to foot.

  Taylor had never asked about her limp before, but remembered, again, that Roxy was not only a hard worker, but someone who never complained about the trials she faced.

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just haul the extras back out to the car. They are cute though, right?”

  “Adorable…” Roxy chewed her bottom lip. “But…”

  “Don’t say it.” Taylor didn’t have room in her small house for all of the stuff she’d just bought, or room in the shed
out back, either, since it was filled with all of the great finds she had dragged with her from Portland.

  “I say nothing. I just hope you know that if you um, need to talk or anything, um…” She offered a sympathetic grin. “I’m here.”

  Taylor attempted to appreciate the offer. Roxy meant well. But as she carried the haul back to her car, she felt her friend’s overly concerned gaze on her the whole way. Shopping wasn’t a real problem. Not like drinking too much. And anyway. It wasn’t like she was going to town again any time soon.

  * * *

  That night Taylor stacked as many chicken wire baskets as she could on the only counter in the kitchen that had any room, then hid more in the backs of closets and under sinks. She had to accept defeat regarding the mirrors and left four of the four feet by two feet impulse purchases leaned against the wall by the TV. After realizing Roxy was right and she needed to take a trip back to Salem to return one or two items, she sent Belle a text imploring her to help her with the YouTube show.

  They met at the scratched up oak coffee table in the living room without argument, or enthusiasm.

  Grandpa was with them, but he was reclined in his chair, snoring softly.

  Belle opened her laptop, logged into the business account at YouTube, and began to show Taylor how the website worked. The views and income had fallen precipitously since their mom's death.

  Taylor actually staggered from her seated position, when she saw the numbers.

  Her most popular video from the previous month had over two-hundred thousand views. “That’s about $1400,” Belle spoke as though Taylor was a child. Taylor didn’t appreciate the tone, but she wouldn’t argue right now since Belle held all the cards.

  The most recent video posted, the last that had been scheduled before their mom had died, only had twelve thousand views.

  “Views have dropped because there isn’t new content.”

  Taylor leaned in and read the comments on the videos.

  Someone had posted their mom’s obituary in the comments under the third to last video in the channel.

  The last two videos had dozens of comments about their mom's passing. Slightly over half were sympathetic little memorial posts from quilters around the world, but the rest were calling them ghouls and other terrible names for continuing to run shows without acknowledging her death.

  Those comments told them they were heartless, money-grubbing monsters. They didn't consider that these videos had been scheduled before her mom passed and that logging into YouTube and canceling them wasn't their main priority during their time of crisis.

  And yet, the drop from $1400 of income on one video to less than $100 made Taylor rethink her priorities.

  What if they couldn’t recover from this?

  “Jonah’s next video will fix this. He’s making a memorial.” The reality that some teen she’d never met was creating a memorial video to their mother, for the fans stung. If she’d been a good daughter and followed her mom on her crazy internet quilting career, she would have her own favorite clips to use. But self-flagellation doesn’t get the job done, so she dismissed the shame and tried to move on. Only productive thoughts and actions tonight.

  Grandpa’s soft, snuffling, snores were the only sound at the moment, so Taylor hit play on the last video. Her mom was smiling at both of them as she stood over a rainbow of colored fabrics spread across her table. “It's a double rainbow isn't it?” She grinned, cheeky, in reference to the old viral video. “It feels like a miracle even though it's just fabric.”

  Taylor tried to catch Belle’s eye to see if she got the reference, but she wasn't revealing anything from behind her shaggy black bangs.

  “What did Mom do with the projects she made?” Taylor hadn’t seen any stacks of stuff in the storage, certainly not a couple of years’ worth of extra random projects.

  “Roxy would know.” Belle’s attention had moved to her phone. She expertly typed and avoided eye contact while talking. A real multi-tasker.

  As her mom was organizing fabric on screen, Taylor considered the years’ worth of projects and the impact they could have on their little shop. If even half of them were still around, and they packaged them right, they might be able to draw some of these YouTube fans to Flour Sax to buy them.

  She didn't say any of that to Belle, though. She didn't seem in the mood.

  “I'll do my best to keep up Mom’s filming schedule and hopefully we won't have lost too many viewers.” Taylor paused the video.

  “Wonderful.” Belle didn’t look up. “You'll be able to focus on the one thing you really love.”

  “I don't know that I feel that strongly about YouTube videos.” Taylor tapped her pointer finger on the mouse pad. It would be nice to finish the project her mom had started in her last video. It would give them continuity. The plan she’d come up with was based on what she perceived as gaps in her mom’s videos and her own strengths. She hadn’t considered what the fans might actually have been looking for.

  Belle sent her bangs flying with a strong puff of breath. They fell back over her eyes and then she spoke. “Not videos Taylor, money.”

  Belle’s words made no sense. Taylor wasn’t money obsessed. She was just good at business. And when you’re good at business, you make money. And Belle had been the one saying they needed to get the show going again in the first place. Wasn’t that so they could make money?

  Belle gave her a headache.

  “It’s just so important for you to keep the business running, isn't it? You got me out of school for my mental health, but then put me back in as fast as you could so you could focus on work again instead of pretending you care about who killed Mom.” Belle’s mouth was set in what could only be called a grim line. She stood from her crossed leg position with the grace you only get after years of dance lessons but stomped up the stairs like she was mad at them.

  Taylor stared at the screen. Her mom was frozen, paused with one hand on the fabric, her gaze directed just off camera.

  Grandpa snored contentedly in his chair.

  Taylor did care about how her mom had died.

  She just didn't know what to do about it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Kirby house was everything Taylor had pictured it being. Huge, new, and on a tiny piece of property. There was no yard to speak of, just a slim patio and a deck above it. She felt a little sorry for Colleen’s two sons till she saw the full basement “play” room dedicated to their need to run around.

  Colleen gave them a tour full of nervous laughter and too many words. As Taylor watched her stumble up her own staircase on their way to the eat-in kitchen where she had prepared a cozy dinner, she realized Colleen was terrified.

  Not of Belle, who was wearing gray instead of black and had a smidgeon less eyeliner on today, but of Taylor.

  Taylor wanted to calm Colleen before they started digging into her story, but she couldn’t suggest a drink, and couldn’t think of anything else that calmed a person.

  Belle slid into one of the cushioned French country chairs at the round breakfast table as though it was her second home, though as far as Taylor knew she had still only been here the one time before.

  “Hmmm. It smells delicious. Is that fresh bread?” Belle’s voice was kind and her body language so comfortable.

  Taylor wanted to believe it was forced, but she didn’t. Belle looked like she was glad to be here. Honestly and truly.

  Colleen nodded, her face bright with excitement. “Just Rhodes rolls. I’m not a great cook.”

  Belle helped herself to a roll and pulled it apart.

  Taylor was embarrassed by her bad manners, but every little action Belle took seemed to do Colleen’s heart good.

  A timer chimed and Colleen removed a pan of lasagna from the oven. “This, I did make. It’s Dave’s mom’s recipe. She’s Italian.” She carried the ceramic casserole dish to the table and set it on an ironwork trivet. “And let me bring the salad over, then we’ll have a nice meal and just
talk.”

  “Mmm.” Belle made a satisfied sound, her mouth full of dinner roll.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Colleen asked,

  They had glasses of ice water with lemon wedges at the table already.

  “Soda? Something else?”

  “No, thanks. This is perfect.”

  “It’s no bother, really.” Colleen stood nervously next to the fridge.

  Belle kicked Taylor under the table.

  “Do you have any cola? Coke, Pepsi?”

  “Yes!” Colleen seemed relieved that Taylor took her up on the offer. She took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice from inside the fridge door, then opened a can of Hanson’s All-Natural Soda and filled the cup.

  She joined them and passed the food around.

  For someone who claimed to be not much of a cook, the lasagna was tremendous. Taylor said so, and Colleen again looked like she had been reprieved.

  “I don’t dare ask the secret, since it’s probably an old family trick.” Taylor wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap between small talk and what they had come for.

  “It’s the sausage,” Colleen said simply. “I buy Italian sausage from a deli downtown. It’s amazing the difference having a professional season things makes.”

  “Colleen…” Belle asked after making almost half her lasagna disappear, “That last night…you and mom weren’t getting along.”

  She tilted her head. “No. I regret that fight so much now.”

  “Can you remember what it was about?”

  Colleen flushed. “I’ll never forget. It was just so embarrassing now that I realize it was our last night together.”

  Taylor felt awful for Colleen. To end a lifelong friendship with a fight would have been devastating.

  “Was it about…nachos?” Taylor asked.

  Colleen looked at her in surprise. “Nachos? No. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “We asked some of the other girls what they remembered about the night and they mentioned you fighting. One of them thought Mom had said nachos…” Belle helped herself to another roll.