Hardwired

by C. P. Rowlands

  Clary thought of Jesse and how moody she was. “Hannah was only three months old when she and Robin moved in with me. It didn’t take me long to figure out that babies are a big responsibility.”

  Piper sank down at the table and took a taste of the coffee. “It was only a dream. My dream, but I think Jesse feels as if she let me down and she may bring it up to you.” She tried to smile but ended up with a frown. “The long hours at the police station exhaust her. Under the new governor, every city is cutting budgets, which means more work. I haven’t said a word about a baby since last fall.”

  Clary thought of her days with Hannah and changing diapers, middle-of-the-night bottles, and walks in the stroller. Hannah was so tiny when Robin moved in, and she’d thrown herself whole-heartedly into her care. There’d been days at school when she’d have double vision from lack of sleep.

  “You made a good decision, Piper.”

  “Jesse says you’re the only person that has as much energy as she does. You know she considers you her little sister?” Piper took a drink of her coffee and leaned back with a smile.

  Clary gave a disbelieving snort. “I don’t even remember what energy is anymore. As to the sister-business, when I needed something done, I’d turn to Jesse. She was the protector and the Energizer Bunny. When I needed to talk, you know, girl talk, personal stuff, I always went to Sharon.” Clary blinked. She’d forgotten how true that had been.

  Piper nodded. “I can’t understand this obsession, about why Sharon left. You’re the only person I feel might understand the whole thing.”

  “I don’t get it either, but I’ll listen when she wants to talk. Piper, if I can find anything, I’ll talk to you, but I’ll make that clear to Jesse too.”

  Piper looked out at the yard, and they both were quiet for a moment. “Our classes will start soon. Have you gone through the iPad?”

  “I’ve gone all the way through it once and had a thought about your students. Could you use Leefe’s help? Her information on the kids she had at day care might give you super clues.”

  “That never occurred to me.” Piper gave her a thoughtful look.

  “I read the assessments and teachers’ comments from last year. You have some tough hours ahead. Maybe Leefe has some special information about them when they were little that contains clues, or why they don’t care if they learn. Do you know how often your teachers used the words bored and distracted?”

  “I thought we could talk about this tomorrow at the meeting.”

  “Let’s do, and believe me, I am not one of those teachers who wants every child to be a superstar. Still, it’d be nice if they could read at the appropriate level and understand concepts or abstracts.”

  Piper looked skeptical. “We only have two months.”

  “It’s an opportunity to go into the next school year with a clear idea about what’s happening with these particular students. This’ll pool your motivational tools.”

  “That’s why I asked for your opinion,” Piper said and finished her coffee. “I read the acceptance speech you gave in Iowa City. That was a kick-ass idea, Clary, having those kids publish a Guide to Basic English.”

  “It started because of texting, and I know that’s not news to you. I was trying to get them to use the correct word, not slip into their own language. After my breakdown, or whatever you call it, the—”

  Piper leaned forward. “What breakdown? You never mentioned anything like that.”

  Clary hadn’t meant to mention it and scrambled to explain. “I have friends there, Piper, and they helped. I saw a therapist and even spent a few days resting in a hospital during Christmas vacation. I’m off all the anti-anxiety meds and feel better. That’s what counts.”

  Piper still looked concerned. “You should have said something. We knew you were going through a rough time, but, Clary, a breakdown?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what else to call it…or how to talk about it.” Piper only frowned, so Clary hurried on. “Anyway, look at the homeless issue you’re dealing with. Jesse gave me some of Leefe’s background. Because she was abandoned, the word ‘parent’ would have a hugely different context for her than it would for us. I asked her last night, and she said she’d be happy to give us any information she could.”

  Piper bit her lip. “I never thought of using someone that had actually been homeless as a source.”

  “I couldn’t have done the publishing in Iowa without the kids. I needed them to combine the two languages, theirs and ours, yet keep the integrity of the word, and how it works in the real world. Why can’t you do the same with the homeless? I’m going to drop into the day care tomorrow and watch Leefe in real time. I have a feeling she can bridge the two worlds.”

  “All right, but if it doesn’t work and I say so, we don’t use her.” Piper stood, stretching. “Where did you see Leefe last night?”

  “She stopped here on her way home. Remember you said she does something for the police, but it was a little murky? She tracks homeless families, and this is her safe house.”

  “I didn’t know,” Piper said. She picked up the bucket and walked down the steps. “Did you have a good time last night?”

  “Are you kidding? I loved it. It was my first time on the lake in years…or do you mean with Felice?”

  Piper nodded. “Felice came back just as we left. She and Kaye huddled up, laughing about something.” Piper cocked her head, waiting for Clary to respond.

  Clary rolled her sore shoulders and shook her head. “I don’t know. I think my body’s broken.”

  Piper started down the driveway but turned back, shading her eyes from the sun. “Can I ask about Leefe? She seems to have caught your attention.”

  “She makes me smile, and she’s interesting. That’s worth something. No, it’s worth a lot.”

  “Oh, ha, you should see your face. Your body’s not broken. You were just with the wrong person last night.” Piper shot her a devilish grin, pointing at her. “Jesse said Leefe asked if you’d pose for her art class.”

  Clary felt her face warm. “For Pete’s sake, does everyone know about this?”

  Piper giggled. “South Port’s amazing. Eighty-some thousand people get the news at the speed of light.”

  “Actually, as long as it’s not nude—” Clary looked at Piper. “It isn’t, is it?”

  “How would I know? Maybe you could get Jesse to pose with you. It might relax her.” They laughed as Piper walked away, down the driveway.

  She opened the garage door for the lawnmower and anxiety jolted through her. “Damn,” she muttered. It was the first true anxiety she’d felt since she’d been home. If Felice had talked to Kaye, everyone would know about last night. She checked the gas in the mower, and then stopped. Did it really matter what Kaye said to anyone? Kaye had bugged her since they were in grade school, and it was going to end, now. Hadn’t she learned anything in Iowa?

  When she was done with the yard, she’d swing by the marina to begin the process of getting the boat out of storage. Tonight, she’d read more of the Kozel book that Piper had given her. It was a wealth of information, with a lot of clues about the homeless.

  She scanned the beach. Actually, the best thing to do was talk to Leefe.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning, Clary parked downtown in sunshine so bright it hurt her eyes. Like the lake and her old neighborhood, this was another area she truly loved. Less than a century ago, it had been a busy Lake Michigan port, but now, only quaint stores and atmosphere remained.

  Caught up in the sight, Clary stepped off the curb and almost walked into a car making a turn. She jumped back and collided with a child running down the sidewalk. The little girl pushed off defiantly, her black hair tumbling wildly around her dirty face, and then ran, her red tennis shoes leaving a streak of color against the sidewalk. Clary stood for a moment, watching the girl disappear around a corner. That child couldn’t have been more than five years old.

  Shaken, Clary turned back to t
he downtown. Some of the businesses were closed and empty, a sight that made her frown. She looked down the street for the bright green store and took a relieved breath. Sharon’s old store was still there. A bell rang as she entered and, like Sharon’s bedroom, it felt the same at first glance. The faint scent of potpourri lingered and the wooden floor still creaked. It had been eighteen years since she’d been here. Sharon had been twenty-three and had owned the store for about a year at that time.

  A young woman with curly brown hair walked up, holding a vase of paper flowers. “Was there something you needed?” she said. “I’ll bet we’ve got it.”

  “I haven’t been here in years.” Clary turned around. “You kept the name, The Green Cabbage, and it’s still like the old dime stores.” It was, with everything from sewing materials to school supplies.

  The woman laughed. “Kind of hard to top that name, isn’t it?”

  “I need children’s books and a box to carry them,” Clary said as she spotted what she was looking for. The clerk nodded and disappeared into the back, leaving Clary to think about the last time she’d been here. She’d been leaving for England that night and stopped to say good-bye to Sharon. Kaye and Sharon were sharing a house on the lake, throwing one notorious party after another, and Aunt Mo was fit to be tied. Sharon had looked exhausted, but she’d given Clary a hard, heartfelt hug.

  “Two years is a long time. I’m going to miss you,” Sharon had said.

  Clary had held on, wanting to talk about the dark circles under Sharon’s eyes, but hadn’t. Later, she wished she had. It was the last time they’d spoken.

  She browsed through a selection of socks and T-shirts, next to a display of lightbulbs. Now that she was home, memories of Sharon wrapped her heart like sad, cold cobwebs.

  “Will this do?” The clerk held out a box, and Clary began to pack books inside. When she’d returned from England two years later, her normally organized family had been in a panic because Sharon had disappeared a week earlier. Jesse was finishing her training at the police academy in Milwaukee, and the only time they’d talked was at the funeral, a month later. They’d both been so distraught that neither of them had said much, only cried. Three days later, Clary had left for Chicago to teach.

  *

  Clary parked at the Southside Day Care and looked around. It was a good location for this facility, only two blocks off the main drag. The house was large and as yellow as summer sunlight with clean, white trim, and a neatly mowed yard. There were large wind chimes hanging from two eaves at the front, adding a lovely sound to the light breeze. The chimes might have been homemade. She walked across the street and looked closer.

  Kids were singing somewhere. She left the box on the steps and walked around the corner of the building. Leefe was directing a group of children in a very energetic dance, and Clary leaned against the wire fence, watching.

  Leefe wore a faded green, button-down shirt tucked into her jeans, and Clary smiled. Definitely curves in those angles, no matter what Jesse said. The children wore much-used but clean clothing, and Clary took a long look at them. Most were small, some even too thin. At that moment, Leefe noticed her and said something. They all stopped and turned to the fence.

  “Kids, show Clary our new dance.” Leefe began to clap and sing again. Everyone lined up, singing, and did the steps, heel to toe, with a quick jump so their backs were to Clary, then another quick foot movement, and they were facing her. Clary grinned at their flushed faces and clapped when they finished.

  Laughing, Leefe hugged the kids closest to her and pointed at the house. “Good job guys. Time for food. The bowls are in the refrigerator.” Noisy and laughing, they scrambled toward the back door.

  “That looked like fun. Was that an Irish clog?”

  “Don’t know.” Leefe leaned against the fence. “It’s something my real mother taught me, and the words to the song too. Did you recognize it?”

  “The steps are familiar but not the song.” Clary turned, realizing what Leefe had said. “You remember your real mother, not your adoptive parents?”

  “I dream about her, now and then. Someone had to teach me that dance.” Leefe grinned. “Didn’t expect to see you here, but I’m glad you came by.” The relaxed grin totally changed Leefe. The intensity around her was gone, and her eyes were rounder, brighter.

  “I brought books, but I left them on the front porch when I heard the kids and walked back here.”

  “Thanks. I can always use new books. Meet me out front?”

  There were flowers and names painted on the foundation of the house, right onto the bricks, and Clary stopped to look.

  “Do you like this?” Leefe came down the front steps, pointing at the painted flowers.

  “Never saw anything like it. Did you do it?”

  “It was my idea, but I only helped. We call it our brick garden. I covered them in big shirts, and got the hardware store to donate some paint. That was a great week.” Leefe touched the bricks. “For most, it was the first time they’d seen their names.”

  “It’s colorful and hopeful.” With her hand on Leefe’s shoulder for support, Clary bent and looked closer. “I like your chimes too.” She pointed at the roof.

  “A friend of mine did those. I want the kids to be able to always hear our sound. Their families move a lot. They get lost and can’t find their way here. Sometimes it works.”

  The brutal bruises still marked Leefe’s face, but they were fading, and her shirt was warm from the sun. Something else was new, besides the grin. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in daylight,” Clary said. “We’ve always seen each other at night…” Clary’s voice trailed off as Leefe’s shoulder moved under her fingers. They were so close. She dropped her hand.

  “Oh, daylight.” Leefe made a funny face. “No. That first time in the hospital was daytime.” She looked unsure for a moment. “Wasn’t it? I was so out of it.”

  “You’re right, but the blinds were pulled,” Clary conceded. “I told Piper I’d drop by her staff meeting this afternoon. Want to come along?”

  “Sorry, but I can’t. Albie, my assistant, has to leave early today. Thanks for the message about Piper. I’m glad she’s okay with my help with the classes. Want a look inside?”

  The house was big and old, but clean. The wooden floors shone. Braided throw rugs were scattered about, giving it a warm, lived-in feeling. The first room had a few traditional kindergarten desks with a large blackboard that started at the floor and went up at least four feet. A box of chalk lay on the closest desk. The window curtains were as yellow as the paint on the outside of the house, brightening the room.

  “We kept the original design of the house,” Leefe explained as they moved to the kitchen. “This isn’t the only shelter or day care in town, but it’s the second largest facility, and the only one that’s owned and paid for by city and private funds. Under the current governor, we stay away from state funds.”

  She straightened canisters on the counter and tossed a dish towel in a clothes hamper. “The family accommodation is three blocks west of here in the Stratford building. It houses families that have some kind of income but nowhere to live. It helps, but the waiting list is long.” Leefe leaned against the cupboards, arms crossed. “The one thing all of the shelters share are the free gardens in the city. Some of the produce goes to the Food Plant, a food facility for homeless a few blocks away from here. Grocery stores pitch in as well. Joe, Maureen, and the rest of the group got that going, and it works.”

  A long wooden table bisected the large kitchen, and red-and-white striped curtains added an extra shot of color. The room smelled like bacon and coffee with a hint of floor wax. A small set of steps stood in front of the sink. “Kids have to wash up. It’s the rule.” Leefe pointed at the steps. “I’ve become a decent plumber because of this house.”

  Clary grinned. “I know the feeling. I struggle with my place in Iowa. How are your carpentry skills?”

  “Fair, but what I really need i
s an electrician. This place needs a total rewire.”

  “We took a semester of Electricity for Dummies several years ago. Want some help?”

  “Seriously? I’m afraid of electricity.”

  “I used to be, but after Jean and I brought her duplex up to code, I lost the fear. It’s really just basic stuff.”

  “You own a duplex?”

  “No, I rent, but it’s a great place. My landlord, Jean, is a retired schoolteacher.”

  “Oh, I wondered—” Leefe began as one of the kids wandered into the kitchen.

  “Ms. Ellis?” the child said, holding out an empty bowl. “I’m done.”

  “Okay, Devi. Where does that bowl go?”

  “The sink. The red fruit is good, but the yellow was okay.”

  “Not ‘good,’ Devi. You mean ‘better,’” Leefe said, and stood behind the little girl as they ran soap and water over her hands.

  Something in Clary perked up watching Leefe’s smooth arms and the muscles moving beneath the skin. Her whole body appeared balanced and she moved easily.

  “The yellow was muskmelon, and the red was watermelon.” Leefe looked back at Clary. “Devi’s just learned her colors so all food is named after something in a rainbow. Casseroles are a challenge.”

  Clary realized that Devi was the little girl from downtown this morning, the one she’d run into on the sidewalk. Her face was clean now, and her hair was combed. “I like your red shoes, Devi.”

  The child gave her a proud look. “Ms. Ellis got them. For me.” Her skin matched her light brown eyes, and her hair was silky black like Leefe’s, but without the shaggy style. Devi whispered “thank you” with a big smile as she climbed down the steps and then hugged Leefe’s legs. Clary saw Leefe’s hand enclose Devi’s small one as they walked into the next room.