Hardwired

by C. P. Rowlands

  “That’s it. She’s not Sharon, but they both enjoy her.”

  They stared at each other for a moment. Years tumbled through Clary like a gray wind, and she shifted in the chair. Jesse took a deep breath.

  “What about Leefe and Sharon?” Clary put her bowl in the sink.

  “When Sharon disappeared, Leefe went to the police and gave them information that helped locate her. That’s when Joe and Maureen hired the private investigator. He was tracking her in San Francisco when she was murdered. I know there’s more to the story about why Sharon left, but Leefe always stonewalls me. Leefe never lies. She just clams up with that street kid thing of hers.” Jesse stared at the photos on Maureen’s wall. “Piper says I’m obsessed with this, but it’s more like there’s something unfinished, unsaid, between Sharon and me. It won’t leave me alone.”

  Clary looked at the photos too, trying to remember what Leefe had said last night, about the boat pictures. She’d mentioned Sharon as if she knew her.

  Jesse’s phone chirped and she checked it. “Have to go.” She grabbed her keys. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Clary put things in the dishwasher. At least Jesse had talked about this thing between her and Sharon. She looked down at the top she was wearing and headed back upstairs.

  “Dummy,” she said and changed into a clean T-shirt. No, not so dumb to want to look nice for someone. She hadn’t had that impulse in a long time. Tonight was the dinner on Zip’s boat, and she rummaged through clothes, looking for something to wear. She thought briefly of Felice as she went downstairs. “Great,” she muttered to herself.

  With a fresh cup of coffee, she sat at Maureen’s desk to e-mail Jean, her Iowa landlord. She asked for anything Jean might know about the homeless in Iowa, describing South Port’s problems. She added a description of Piper’s classes knowing it would interest the retired school teacher.

  She hit “send” and then checked her inbox. There was an e-mail from her school. The whole mess with Robin had played havoc with her job, and the principal had called her in for a meeting last February. He hadn’t made a single mention of the fact that Robin was a woman, but had mentioned Clary’s “general unwell appearance.” Her weight loss had changed her, and he’d mentioned all the hours she’d spent at school. That day she’d left his office feeling used up, but then, with perfect timing, she’d been named Iowa’s Teacher of the Year the next week. With every inch of strength she could muster, she’d asked for another meeting.

  To say the least, the second meeting had been different. She had leverage. He’d given her the advanced class she asked for but warned her, very subtly, to get her act together before she came back this year. Dancing on the head of pin was what she called it. Worse, for the first time, teaching somehow felt like more of a job and less of a joy.

  She took a fortifying drink of coffee and opened the school’s e-mail. It was a message from Marley Price, her good friend and secretary to the principal. It simply said, “Call me, ASAP.” Clary called Marley’s personal number.

  “Where are you?” Marley said without even saying hello.

  “Home, in Wisconsin.” Clary heard the stress in her friend’s voice.

  “That’s what I thought. Brace yourself. We’ve got a mess. Our beloved principal and Sue got into it, and she quit. Cleaned her stuff out and left.”

  “No, that’s not possible.” Clary closed her eyes. Sue was her co-leader on the eighth grade teaching team. “What the hell?”

  “Not a clue, but I’ll get the story. They’re already looking for a replacement. This probably means increased class size, and I’ll bet you can kiss your advanced class good-bye.”

  “Are you at school?”

  “Waiting for a meeting with He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

  Clary gave a short laugh. “All right. Get back to me.”

  “Clary, expect the worst.” Marley hung up without saying good-bye.

  Could anything else go wrong, Clary wondered and picked up the book on the desk. To Kill a Mockingbird would have been a joy to teach, but she’d have taught a seed catalog if it helped her students think.

  It started with a deep sigh, and just that quick, she was furious, hurling the book across the room. It hit the wall with a loud smack, spitting out notes and papers. Tears in her eyes, she dropped to her knees to clean up the mess, and separated a paper out of the pile, a crayon drawing of a big yellow and green flower, something that Hannah had done for her. “Damn,” she said, and then “damn, damn, damn.” She hugged herself, missing Hannah so hard she hurt.

  If she ever saw Robin again, it would be too soon. The therapist had been right. The opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was not caring.

  *

  That afternoon, Leefe woke in the hammock in her bedroom, heart beating hard. She’d had that rare nightmare of her real mother, singing on a beach by a lake. She always tried to keep up with her mother and clapped her hands, smiling so hard that her face hurt. Right on schedule, her mother’s long, dark hair would swing around as she looked over her shoulder, the gunshot would echo though the dream, and she’d wake.

  Leefe clenched her teeth, sinking the rest of the way to the floor. The desk and workbench in her combination bedroom-workshop reared above her. Stiff with pain, she wiped her wet eyes. She’d had that nightmare forever and, as bad as it was, it was the only time she could see her mother’s face so much like her own. There were no other memories until the Ellis family had taken her. Was Leefe Ellis her real name? In the dream, her mother never spoke her name, only sang, and she’d never heard that song again.

  She tried to focus on something else, and her mind skittered around. This morning, she’d walked from Maureen’s to the day care to check on the volunteers, had breakfast, and made sure she’d talked to all the children. Too tired for more, she’d walked home and, as she’d crossed the last sand dune, a blue heron had risen from Lake Michigan. The ropey wing muscles had pulled against the breeze, and the long neck stretched toward the sun. It was the first blue heron she’d seen this summer.

  She reached for the desk to get up. Everything hurt. Had she taken her pain pills or antibiotics? No, she’d forgotten. She made her way to the kitchen and shook the pills into her hand. The late afternoon temperature was cooling. It was almost dusk. She rubbed her arms briskly. When Zip had brought food yesterday, she’d felt so much better after eating that she’d gone to town. Then the fog rolled in, and she’d ended up at Maureen’s and found Clary.

  She braced herself against the counter and rolled her shoulders. Different described Clary best, in lots of little ways. Like the gentle way she’d cupped her face at the hospital and last night, avoiding the bruises. Then, Clary listened as if every word counted. Best of all, she was one of her favorite type of people, a teacher. She wouldn’t have survived without them in her life. What were the chances of this, she thought with a little roll of excitement. A teacher who just might love words and books the way she did. The attractive part was a bonus.

  She puzzled again over Jesse’s order to stay away from Clary. If she’d just survived “rough times,” Clary certainly hadn’t acted hurt or sad either of the times Leefe had been around her. She’d been friendly and interested.

  Bow bells sounded on the lake, followed by a ship’s horn. Leefe went to the door, scanned the blue-gray water, and made a decision. She’d walk off the echoes from the dream and go to one of the downtown bars to eat. Tonight was some kind of race that Zip had talked about, and Clary would be with them.

  *

  Clary squinted toward the horizon, and felt Zip rev up the powerful lake boat. Soft peach sunlight fell across her face and arms. How many times had she thought of this in Iowa and wished she was here? Felice handed her a glass of whiskey over ice, and she sipped, enjoying the cold bite rolling down her throat.

  “How’s St. Louis?” Clary turned to her. When she’d followed Jesse and Piper on deck earlier, Felice had smiled and hugged her possessively. How had Clary forgotten the sta
rtling beauty? Or the oh-hell hunger in those eyes.

  “My business is still growing but at a slower pace. The economy sucks.” Felice pulled her hair back and clipped it at her neck. She wore a light pink, ruffled camisole over a matching bikini. Even her lipstick matched. Clary marveled at the perfect breasts and delicious curves in front of her as Felice crossed her elegant legs. “I’ll take this over a business meeting any day.” She drank something that looked blue and sugary. “Your teaching must be very good. Kaye said you won a huge award.”

  “I still love it, and I’m doing a little work with Piper this summer, but not teaching, just consulting.” Clary shrugged. “The award was unexpected, and I was honored they liked my idea, but to be honest, others worked as hard as I did.”

  “Bet you’re glad you’re in Iowa. Wisconsin’s having a struggle, isn’t it?”

  “I can hardly talk about it,” Clary said, gently shaking the ice in her drink. She didn’t want to talk about Wisconsin. It was too upsetting. “Kaye said you were in Germany?”

  “Germany’s always fun.” Felice gave Clary a knowing look with her expressive brown eyes and casually laid her hand on Clary’s bare leg.

  The touch went completely through her, but Clary never missed a beat in the conversation. “I really enjoyed England when I did my graduate work there. There wasn’t enough money or time to get over to Germany, but I spent a week in Scotland.”

  A tiny crease appeared between Felice’s perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Did I get the drink right? Honestly, I didn’t know if you’d even remember me. It’s been at least ten years.” Her hand caressed Clary’s leg as she spoke.

  Very aware of Felice’s soft fingers, Clary swallowed hard, feeling the pull. Maybe her body hadn’t broken after all. “Of course I remember you. We met here, the week before I moved to Iowa. We were on Kaye’s parents’ boat.”

  “Felice.” Kaye popped up from below. “I need your help.”

  Felice rolled her eyes. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said with a seductive smile and left.

  They were crossing in front of the jetties, and Clary traced the long fingers into the lake. A lone figure walked across the beach. Clary straightened. It was Leefe, her slender figure moving slowly through the long grass and across the sand. Clary turned and met Jesse’s eyes.

  “Careful,” Jesse said and sat in the vacant chair. She didn’t smile.

  “Did you mean Felice?”

  “Yeah, that too. Nice hand-on-the-leg moves,” Jesse said with a little laugh.

  “Leefe’s limping. Is that from the incident the other night?”

  “No, that was a childhood injury.” Jesse’s eyes flicked back to Leefe. “Look, she’s got that Kate Beckinsale-thing going. The dark hair and the angled body. Not a curve on her.”

  “I like Kate Beckinsale.” Clary frowned.

  “And I prefer curves.”

  “Kate Beckinsale has curves,” Clary stubbornly insisted.

  “All right, so she has curves,” Jesse muttered. “I forgot to mention that Leefe’s a heck of a metal artist. Her jewelry’s beautiful, including some very creative origami.”

  “Are you serious? Robin took most of mine.” In truth, Clary’s duplex had been a ransacked mess. Clothing, shoes, books, and CDs all over the floors; cupboards standing open; missing kitchenware; and their bedroom was torn apart. Robin had left one set of sheets, the one on their bed.

  “Piper’s birthday is coming up and I asked Leefe to make a necklace for her.” Jesse took a quick drink of her beer. “If you see a local show advertised, check it out. Leefe usually has a good display.”

  “I could just go to Leefe’s house.” Clary set her glass in a cup holder and turned, studying her. Once again, Jesse looked worn out, and she thought of what Piper had said. “You’re not resting, are you?”

  “Not much. It’s the job, the long hours.” She paused. “I’ve been doing some after-hours work too. Last year, when Maureen took Leefe under her wing, I went over the Ellis file, and then Sharon’s, one more time. Ellis was running a quick scam in Eagle River. He and the family fled to Stevens Point, and he somehow legally adopted Leefe before they moved down here. Do you remember that huge scandal up north where people were selling kids? I think Leefe got mixed into that somehow. I tried to contact the lawyer, but he’s been dead ten years. The only thing in the system is the adoption. It’s like she was born at the age of two or three.”

  “That’s horrible. Look how we grew up here. She must feel a little lost. I would.” Clary looked out at the water, thinking about her own childhood and family.

  Jesse met her eyes briefly and then looked away. “Leefe may appear fragile, but she’s tough, physically and emotionally.”

  “With that background, she’d have to be.” Clary grabbed for her drink as the boat hit a rough patch.

  “You said she’s about my age and she really is lovely…” Clary went quiet. She didn’t want to discuss this with Jesse, and changed direction. “I looked at Piper’s students that she’s working with this summer. Almost half are from the city’s day care, the one Leefe manages. I’m going to ask Piper to include Leefe. Her experience should be helpful.”

  “Honestly? Stay away from Leefe,” Jesse said abruptly.

  “Stay away? I don’t think so. She’s kind of fascinating.”

  “Who’s fascinating?” Felice said and set a tray of appetizers between them.

  Clary frowned at Jesse as she got up to help. Felice’s fingers traced the skin around the top of her shorts, leaving a trail of goose bumps, and Felice smiled. Clary held her breath.

  *

  It was dark. The restaurants and bars along the lake were busy because of the boat race, but Leefe wasn’t in the mood. The pain pills and antibiotics dulled her. Friends had treated her to dinner at The Landing, something she enjoyed, but couldn’t find the energy for more. Word traveled through South Port like a straight-line wind, and she’d fielded a lot of questions about her hospitalization. Or whatever you call moments like that. She had simple words. Beating. Stabbing. Hitting. The Ellis family had taught her those words. She lifted her jacket off the back of the chair and said good night.

  The bridge across the river to the lake was crowded. With her head down, she took her time. Her body was sore, and she had a long walk ahead of her. One of the town’s prostitutes, a woman that had been in the shelter with Leefe, stopped her, examined her bruised face, and asked if she was all right. Leefe thanked her, talked a bit, and then went on. That woman had seen her share of beatings.

  White wings flashed as seagulls flew through the old-fashioned lights above her, and she tracked their flight. Even gulls had family. For a single moment, she felt profoundly alone, and the dream image of her mother washed across her mind.

  Ahead, on the right, was Linda’s bar, The Docks. She could rest at one of the outside tables. Sharon had introduced her to Linda, and Leefe had helped set up the business, volunteering in the kitchen and the bar. During that time, Linda had become her first girlfriend and although it had only lasted a few months, they’d remained good friends.

  There’d been no one before or after Linda, and Leefe frowned down at the sidewalk. As much as she read, she’d probably never understand relationships, or true love, whatever that was. She’d certainly heard enough about it, mostly by evesdropping. Linda was the only person she’d ever wanted to kiss and touch, and then the feeling had just…left. One night she’d gotten up in the middle of the night, left Linda’s bed, and never gone back or found those feelings again. Sometimes she’d come across the story of a great romance in one of her books, but she’d never experienced any of that.

  Leefe shouldered her way through the crowd, easing down at a table at the back where the steps came up from the piers. People leaned over the railing, laughing back and forth with others on the boats as they docked on the river below.

  “Hey,” Linda said, bending down with a warm smile. “Are you all right? I heard you were in the hospital. Ouch, th
ose are some bruises.”

  “He was a veteran off his meds, and it wasn’t personal. It never should have happened.”

  Someone yelled and Linda straightened, nodding at a busy table toward the front. “Can I get you something?”

  “Is there any coffee back there?”

  “I’ll find you some. Or would you rather have water?”

  Leefe shook her head. “Coffee would be great. I’m on my way home.”

  “Honestly, you don’t look like you feel well. Give me a minute for your coffee.”

  When the coffee came, Leefe inhaled the aroma. Her friends had bought her a meal, and Linda had made her fresh coffee. How could she feel alone in South Port?

  A brief blast of a big boat horn sounded from down on the river, and she looked over her shoulder. It was Zip’s boat, warning a smaller boat in its path. The men yelled at Zip, and everyone laughed.

  Coffee cup in hand, Leefe stood, watching the boat traffic. Zip had wisely stopped. Kaye was hanging over the bow, talking to the men in the runabout. A tall blonde who could have been a model had an arm over Kaye’s shoulder. Leefe remembered the conversation at the hospital. That blonde must be Kaye’s cousin. Behind them, Piper was laughing at something Jesse was saying, and…there she was.

  Leefe sipped the coffee and studied Clary’s trim body. Her hair curled down her neck, touching the white lace tunic, and her yellow shorts showed off those nice hips and legs. Piper and Jesse walked to stand beside Kaye and the blonde, but Clary sat still, looking at the shore.

  Look. Look at me. Leefe willed Clary’s eyes to turn to her and then, they did. Amazed, Leefe lifted her hand and smiled. Clary raised her hand and wiggled her fingers, just as she’d done in the hospital. Even from this distance, Leefe felt as if they held each other’s gaze.

  The tall blonde walked from the front of the boat to Clary, gesturing and saying something just as the boat began to move. Clary stood, and the blonde steadied her with an arm around her waist. Leefe watched the woman’s hand move under the back of Clary’s tunic, caressing bare skin. Clary looked over her shoulder at Leefe as the blonde pulled her forward, down the stairs, and inside the boat.