Summer Shadows

by Gayle Roper

  Celia bit back her grin. She’d seen Karlee’s idea of combing a doll’s hair many times. Halloween fright wigs looked good in comparison.

  “She gets into your things and plays with them because they’re yours, and she wants to be like you. She thinks you’re wonderful.”

  “I’m terrible,” Jess whispered, renewed tears in her voice.

  “No, honey, not at all. People get mad at each other all the time. What makes us a loving family is that we don’t stay mad. We forgive each other, and we love each other.”

  Jess was silent for a minute, thinking about her mother’s words. “Is that why Daddy left?”

  Celia blinked. “What?” Had this new catastrophe somehow brought the old one to Jess’s mind? She hadn’t talked about Eddie for months.

  “Did Daddy leave because he stayed mad?” Jess’s voice was small and desperate. “Did he stay mad at something I did?”

  Celia hugged her daughter and kissed her on the top of her head. Had the girl been carrying this worry and guilt inside for years and only now had the courage to voice it? “Daddy stayed mad all right, sweetie, but not at anything you did.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Absolutely sure?”

  “Absolutely sure.”

  “But he told me I was stupid and couldn’t do anything right.”

  Celia wished Eddie were here right now so she could scorch him with her X-ray vision. Saying such a thing to a child, any child, but especially to your own daughter, was criminal. What had she ever seen in that thoughtless—She stopped and took a deep breath. She counted to ten, reminding herself that not only didn’t she say words like that anymore; she didn’t even think them.

  “He was wrong about you, Jess.” Celia put as much authority in her voice as she could. “You are very smart, and you did not do anything that made him leave.” Except maybe be alive, Celia thought. But then, the same could be said of her.

  “Then was he mad at something Karlee did?”

  “No, not at all.” Celia stared at the wall over Jess’s head and forced out what was regrettably a lie. “He loved you girls both very much.”

  Jess was silent, and Celia knew she wasn’t buying it. She couldn’t blame the little girl. Eddie had made it clear that he resented his daughters. Of course he resented the whole world, but that didn’t ease a daughter’s pain when her daddy told her he didn’t like her.

  “Then was he mad at you?” Jess asked in a small voice.

  Celia sighed. How much of Eddie’s ranting and raving had Jess heard? “Mad at me?” If only it were that simple. “It’s very sad, honey, but Daddy got mad at everything and everybody. Me. His boss. His parents. Life. Everything except you and Karlee.”

  Jess sat up and blinked at Celia. Her mouth was a little round O of astonishment. “Was he even mad at God?”

  Celia looked at her daughter’s huge, brown eyes, so like her father’s down to the gold flecks that swam in the irises and the thick lashes that shadowed them. This older daughter of his had his wonderful facial features miniaturized and feminized, and Celia had no doubt that she would one day be a stunner, just like Eddie.

  But please, God, not his deceitful heart. Not his duplicity and weaknesses.

  Even thinking about Eddie saddened her, not as much because of the loss of her marriage as because without a backward look, he threw away the very best and didn’t even realize it. “He’s mad even at God,” Celia agreed.

  “That’s sad, Mommy.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Because God loves him. And so does Jesus.”

  Celia and Jessica sat in silence for a few minutes. They had been in Karlee’s hospital room for several hours now, watching, weeping, thanking God. There was no extended family to come see them, to surround them with love and concern. There were just the three of them, interrupted once in a while by the nurse who came in to check Karlee for potential concussion.

  “I’d like to talk to the doctor who cared for Karlee,” Celia had told the nurse several hours ago. There were questions to ask and answers to get.

  “Of course you do,” she had answered. “The orthopedist who set Karlee’s arm is gone for the weekend, but Dr. Schofield will be in later tonight. He’ll have Karlee’s complete file and will answer any questions you have.”

  Celia thought of the very handsome pediatrician they had visited soon after their move to Seaside to sign up the girls as his patients. Money might be tight, but the girls would never suffer medically if Celia had anything to say about it, and her boss had given Dr. Schofield high marks indeed. “He comes in on a Friday night?”

  “He frequently comes in late at night.” The nurse’s voice was reverent. “He cares about his patients.”

  A knock at the door made Celia turn her head in surprise. “Come in.” Maybe Dr. Schofield was here already.

  No, it was Paul Trevelyan, the young pastor of Seaside Chapel. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that read Seaside Beach Patrol across the chest.

  “Pastor Paul.” Celia knew her jaw must be hanging open. She set Jess down and scrambled to her feet to shake his hand. “How did you know we were here?”

  “I have my sources,” he said, smiling. He walked to the side of the bed and looked down at Karlee. “How is she?”

  “She’s a bit banged up and has a broken arm, but the angels must have been working overtime protecting her.” Her voice broke, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat. “She’ll be fine in no time.”

  He nodded. “I’m so glad.” He reached out and ran a gentle hand over Karlee’s hair.

  Celia smiled. It felt good to have another adult concerned about Karlee, rejoicing that she would be all right. Sometimes, in spite of the girls, she felt so very lonely.

  She and the girls had moved to Seaside almost two months ago, and they had gone to Seaside Chapel since the first Sunday. All three of them liked the warm atmosphere and the informality of a shore resort church combined with a sincere reverence for the God they were worshiping. As an added bonus, the girls loved their Bible school teachers too.

  But that Pastor Paul had come to the hospital for them—well, it was almost more than she could take in. People didn’t do nice things for her.

  “She’s four, isn’t she?” Pastor Paul asked Jess.

  “Last week,” Jess answered. “Tuesday. When Mommy came home from work, we had a party with hats and streamers and a cake and all.”

  “Sounds like you had fun,” the pastor said. “When’s your birthday?”

  Jess made a face. “Not until December.”

  He nodded with understanding. “It’s not too close to Christmas, is it?”

  “It’s December 2. It’s early enough that I get presents both times.”

  He winked. “Good.” He turned his attention to Celia. “I wanted to let you know that you’re not alone even though you’re new in town. Karlee’s name has been put on the church prayer list, and even now she’s being prayed for.”

  Tears rose in Celia’s eyes again, but these were tears of gratitude. She’d felt so alone for so long that it was almost beyond understanding that people cared. When Pastor Paul laid his hand on Karlee’s forehead and prayed for her rapid recovery, Celia had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing aloud. Thank You, God. Thank You, God.

  When the pastor left after a ten-minute visit, Jess climbed back onto Celia’s lap. “He’s nice.”

  “Mmm. Very nice.”

  “I’m glad we go to his church.”

  “Me too. Now why don’t you close those beautiful brown eyes of yours and get some sleep? Tomorrow I imagine Karlee’s going to hate lying in bed, and you’re going to have to help me entertain her.”

  “I can entertain her alone when you go to work,” Jess said. “There’s adults here to watch over us.”

  “I’m not going to work, honey.”

  Jess straightened and looked into her mother’s face. “Did Pinky give you the day off?”

&
nbsp; “Not exactly.” In fact Saturday was one of their busiest days at the spa. “But I can’t leave Karlee. The doctor’ll probably tell us she can go home, and we’ve got to be ready to pick her up when we get the word.”

  Jess nodded, but she looked apprehensive. Celia hated that their financial situation was so precarious that her children worried. She sighed. She couldn’t afford to lose this job at Seaside Spa. It was literally a matter of the family’s survival. But what could she do? Her baby needed her.

  Celia kissed the tip of Jess’s nose. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll work it out. God will work it out.”

  Please, God, don’t let that be a lie. I need You.

  Jess looked unconvinced, but she settled back in Celia’s arms. Celia felt her relax, and soon a gentle snuffling indicated the child slept. Celia laid her head against the back of the chair, no longer able to keep herself from the anxiety that had been pressing on her. Sometimes she felt like the soft half of a piece of Velcro, and worry was the prickly piece that glommed on and stuck tight. She wanted to trust the Lord, but worrying was so much easier!

  What would Pinky say when she didn’t come to work tomorrow? She was still in her three-month probationary period, though she knew her boss liked her work. And so she should. Celia was one of the best massage therapists going. She’d graduated from school at the top of her class in spite of all the chaos in her life. She had good hands and a sixth sense about her work. Clients requested her more than any other of Pinky’s therapists.

  But a boss didn’t care how good you were if you didn’t come to work.

  Once again the guilt of being a working mother with long hours cut at her. If she’d been home, Karlee wouldn’t have been going to the store. She wouldn’t have been at that intersection, crossing that street, getting hit by that car.

  But she hadn’t been home. She’s been at the spa working on a man who had wrenched his back trying to surf. That a man as out of shape as he was had expected to stand on a surfboard still stunned her. She didn’t quite know why she was so surprised. Men did all kinds of foolish things in the name of sport. One of her jobs was to try to put them back together, or at the very least, relieve some of their pain.

  So she’d been pummeling the sore muscles of an overweight, out of shape, middle-aged man while her baby got hit by a car.

  She took a deep breath, a difficult thing to do with the heavy weight pressing on her conscience. It didn’t matter how much she told herself she had no choice—and she didn’t; she knew she didn’t—she still hated leaving Jess and Karlee with a baby-sitter. This one had proven so undependable. The foolish woman had let a four-year-old go to the store alone.

  “But she told me she wanted to, Ms. Fitzmeyer,” the woman had said. “Karlee likes to help.”

  Help, schmelp. A four-year-old needed closer supervision. Celia needed to find another baby-sitter by Monday at the latest. Her headache intensified.

  A knock roused her, and she blinked as a slim woman in black jeans, a red shirt, and a black blazer came hesitantly into the room.

  “Ms. Fitzmeyer?”

  Celia nodded. “Yes?”

  “I’m Abby Patterson.” The woman’s eyes settled on the bed. Her face crumpled as she saw Karlee.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Celia hastened to say. “Brush burns. Bruises. They’ll hurt for a while, but they aren’t serious. She’ll probably go home tomorrow.”

  “Really?” Abby turned a hopeful face to her. “I’m so glad! I couldn’t sleep without seeing for myself that she was all right.”

  Abby Patterson. Why did that name sound familiar? “Ah. You’re the eyewitness.”

  Abby looked pained. “So they tell me. I’m afraid I don’t remember. It’s like this curtain of gray gauze is strung across that part of my memory.”

  Celia stood, Jess a dead weight in her arms. “Come on, let’s pull that other chair over here so you can sit down.”

  Abby looked uncertainly at Celia. “I don’t want to impose. I—” She hesitated. “I was afraid I might upset you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t tell the police who the driver was.”

  Celia saw Abby’s anguish. She made her smile gentle. “Neither can I.”

  Abby gave a little bark of laughter at the unexpected answer. “But you weren’t there.”

  “But God was. When He wants you to remember, you will.”

  Abby visibly relaxed, her shoulders lowering, her mouth softening. “Thank you. That was a kind thing to say.”

  “But true.”

  Abby nodded. “I agree. But I have to tell you, this waiting for His time is terrible.”

  Celia decided that she liked this woman who had cared enough to come see Karlee, even if it was—she checked the clock on the wall—eleven-thirty at night. Curiosity struck. “How did you get up here? Visiting hours are long over.”

  “I checked the hospital map in the lobby and came right to this floor. There was only one nurse at the nurses’ station, and she was busy doing something on the computer. I just walked down the hall like I belonged here.” Abby grinned. “It worked.”

  “Now that you’re here, stay a while. Keep me company. It’s going to be a long night.”

  Abby looked at Celia as if she was trying to decipher whether the words were merely polite or truly meant.

  “Please. Stay. We have no family, and I’ve been alone all evening.”

  Abby gave a single nod and walked to the other padded chair in the room. She slid it across the floor, coming to a stop not far from Celia’s own chair. Abby sat stiffly, slowly, like she was in pain, like she was the one who had been hit by the car.

  Celia moved to Karlee’s bed, lowering Jess over the bed rails until she was lying beside her little sister. She pulled at the covers to get them out from under Jess, but they wouldn’t budge.

  “Here,” Abby came to the bed. “You lift her. I’ll pull the blanket and sheet free.”

  Celia lifted Jess, straining under the combination of dead weight and odd angle. “She’s getting too big for this.”

  Abby gave a hesitant smile and pulled the covers free. When Celia put Jess down, Abby tucked her in, turning the top of the sheet over the blanket and smoothing both until all the wrinkles were gone. Celia leaned over and kissed Jess on the forehead. She did the same to Karlee. When she turned from the bed, she was surprised to see tears in Abby’s eyes. Uncertain what to say, she took her seat, and the two sat in silence in the dimly lit room.

  “I had a daughter,” Abby said suddenly.

  Had? Celia felt her heart contract. She had come too close to had this very day. How did one stand it when had came true?

  “Her name was Maddy, Madeleine. She would have been five.”

  “Karlee’s four.”

  Abby looked at Celia, desperation in her face. “I had to see for myself that she was okay.” She lowered her face into her hands. “Oh, Celia, why can’t I remember?”

  Ten

  THE BACK ROADS worked well, just as he’d known they would. All those little black lines on a map were relatively empty even on a Friday night, and the traffic he did meet was headed south and east to the shore while he was headed north and west. Again he counted the one piece of good fortune he’d had: The damage to the car was on the right, away from oncoming traffic.

  He bypassed Hammonton and turned onto 206 and followed it across Wharton State Park. The closer he got to Atsion, the more the memories crowded him. He drove past a ramshackle trailer and in his mind saw the filthy blue-and-white one he’d lived in for too many years. It was parked by itself well outside town, surrounded by pinelands. His mother had tried to keep it clean, but she was so obese that she was physically unable to do the work. It was all she could do to punch the cash register at the Food Fair.

  He’d decided when he was five that he wasn’t remaining in that poor excuse for a home a minute longer than necessary. He was going to have a house like the one that flashed on the screen at the be
ginning of Dallas. Big and white with lots of pillars. It took him longer to figure out how he’d get that house, but he’d always been a smart kid.

  His present house didn’t look like Southfork, but only because it didn’t sit in the middle of a ranch. Instead its pillared porch and brick drive were surrounded by two acres of oaks and pines, azaleas and rhododendrons, flowering cherries and Bradford pears. Inside the place was worthy of Architectural Digest with its Scalamandré fabrics and costly antiques.

  He forced himself to concentrate on today’s mansion instead of yesterday’s trailer. Gone also were the ratty pants and holey T-shirts from Goodwill. He looked down at the well-tailored slacks and hundred-dollar knit shirt he was wearing. He rubbed his hand over the car’s leather interior again and shuddered at the memory of walking miles and miles because there was no other way to get somewhere, not even a rusty old bike like McCoy had.

  His temper soared. He couldn’t lose what he’d worked so hard for. He couldn’t. Not because of a little girl in pink who was foolish enough to stand in the middle of the street. It simply wasn’t fair!

  He turned off at the old iron forge and drove deep into the Pines, back where even the Pineys didn’t go. He took the dirt road to Quaker Bridge, then on beyond that, following the barely passable sand roads that snaked ever deeper into the heart of the Pines. The forest pressed in on the car, rubbing against its shiny black paint, and the scraping and scratching chilled his blood. Not that it actually mattered. He was abandoning the car.

  He drove off the sand track into a dense clump of scrub. He leaned over and emptied the glove compartment of the maps, registration, insurance information, and miscellaneous papers, careful not to leave even the smallest scrap that might provide a clue to his identity. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped down the interior, then climbed out. Immediately his trousers caught on a broken branch. Swearing, he disentangled himself, moved to the rear of the car, and popped the trunk. He pulled out his gym bag. As he shrugged out of his good clothes, he studied the snag in the slacks before he put them, neatly folded, into the bag. A total loss.