After the Rain

by Karen White

  Finally, Suzanne sat back, the folder still open, her eyes still focused on the photograph.

  “Well?” Maddie asked, feeling close to tears.

  Suzanne’s gray eyes met hers. “It’s perfect. I think it’s a winner.”

  Maddie let go of her held breath, then sagged against the rocking chair. “Thank goodness. I was afraid you’d tell me it sucked.”

  Suzanne arched an eyebrow. “It doesn’t suck—it’s wonderful. And you can believe me because I’m not related to you and can’t be biased.”

  Maddie wanted to hug the older woman, but held back. There was something about Suzanne that always made you think twice before you touched her. As if she were a fragile butterfly whose wings would break if you held her too tightly. “Well, great. I’ll finish up the entry forms and get it in the mail today. Thanks. For everything.” Looking down at her fingernails that were stained black with the paint from the town green’s fence, she said, “Especially for what you did for me that night I went to Atlanta. That was really cool.”

  “You’re welcome. But don’t ever do it again. It destroys lives.”

  Maddie peered at her with dawning understanding. “Like yours?”

  Suzanne looked away. “Yeah. Sort of.” She didn’t speak for a moment, but Maddie knew to wait. Her daddy tasted his words first before he spoke, too, not wanting anything sour to come out. Or for anything to be taken literally by the older children in his household.

  Looking down at the copy of Little Women in her lap, Suzanne spoke very quietly. “For fourteen years, I did everything I could to make my mother love me more than she loved the alcohol. But I wasn’t enough for her. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever get over.”

  Maddie’s breathing felt hollow, the pain as real to her as it must still be for Suzanne. Maybe that’s why she was drawn to her, two motherless girls searching the world for the one thing that would replace that loss. Swallowing, Maddie gave a big push with her feet. “Don’t worry about me getting drunk again. I’ve never puked so much in my entire life. I can’t imagine putting myself through that again.”

  They rocked in silence for a few moments before Maddie remembered something else she needed to tell Suzanne. “Oh, I think I’m missing a negative on the end of the roll of film. There were twenty-four exposures but only twenty-three negatives.”

  Suzanne’s hands clutched the arms of the rocker a little tighter. “I cut it off. A strap or a finger was blocking out the entire image. So I threw it away.”

  “I wondered,” Maddie said as she took the folder from Suzanne. “I developed that roll of film from your camera for you. I made them all into five-by-seven prints, and you can tell me if you want any enlarged. They’re pretty good.”

  Suzanne took the envelope containing a small stack of pictures and Maddie leaned over to look at them again as Suzanne slid them out. They must have been the photographs Suzanne had taken over the past two weeks from her sickbed. There were the Sedgewick sisters holding up their sections of a pink and purple afghan for the camera, Lucinda painting Suzanne’s toenails in Bingo Night Red, Mrs. Crandall laughing at a joke, and Maddie staring up at the ceiling with her chin cupped in her hands. And then there was her daddy, looking the way he did when he was about to laugh, but with a light in his eyes that Maddie hadn’t seen in a long time. When Maddie looked closer, she noticed a glow surrounding the photos of her and her dad. It was as if a thin white veil had been placed between the camera and the subject, and it made the hairs rise on the back of Suzanne’s neck.

  “What is that?” Maddie asked, pointing to the veiled light. “Is that some special effect you haven’t showed me yet? Because if it is, I want to learn how to do it.”

  Suzanne shook her head. “There is a way to create that effect, but I didn’t do it on purpose. It just sort of showed up. I took some pictures at the cemetery and the same light appeared on those, too. I’m thinking there must have been dust or something on my lens.”

  Their eyes met for a brief moment before Suzanne abruptly looked away and began to slip through the pictures again as if she were trying to figure out what appeared different about these photos than her older ones that she’d shown Maddie before. Suzanne’s portfolio of photographs was very good, some even brilliant. But these were special, set apart by some unknown element.

  Maddie leaned back to get a better perspective and in Suzanne’s third pass through the pictures, she realized what it was. Suzanne’s eye behind the camera had picked up moments of interaction between the subjects of the photographs and the photographer. No longer mute, the camera seemed to sing with the rhythm of the lives these people represented. She had managed to become a part of the subject instead of simply a bystander, and it made all the difference. Suzanne sighed, then relaxed against the back of her rocking chair, and Maddie knew she’d figured it out, too.

  Maddie leaned back in her own chair. “Those are really good. Do you think I could use one of them in the contest instead?”

  “Now, Maddie, that wouldn’t be honest, would it? Besides, yours is better than any of these.”

  Maddie shrugged, hoping to hide her immature giddiness that made her want to whoop and holler. “Whatever.” She stood, keeping her voice normal. But thanks.” With a heavy sigh, she said, “I’ve got to get back to painting or my daddy will make me do the courthouse, too.”

  “He’s only trying to make a point, Maddie. If your punishment were lenient, it wouldn’t make much of an impression, would it?”

  Maddie looked heavenward. “I knew you’d take his side. This love stuff is sickening.”

  Suzanne cleared her throat. “Excuse me? I don’t think so. We’re just two adults who care about you, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, right.” The only reason Maddie had even found the time to come to Suzanne’s was that her dad was getting his hair cut for the second time in a month, and that never happened. Maddie stuck the folder under her arm as she zipped up her fleece jacket. “And Miss Lena’s working with a full deck.”

  “Now, Maddie . . .”

  Maddie waved her hand. “I’ve got to go. See ya later.”

  Suzanne was frowning when Maddie turned away and let herself out of the front gate. She wasn’t sure what her dad felt was actually love, but sometimes she caught him looking at Suzanne in a way she wished Robbie would look at her. She wanted it to bother her, but it didn’t. Maybe if her daddy was strong enough to move on, he’d understand that Maddie was, too.

  She quickened her steps realizing that she’d spent too much time with Suzanne and hoping her daddy hadn’t walked by the courthouse square and found her AWOL. A strong autumn wind blew leaves around her ankles, pushing at her back as if it, too, had finally decided it was time to move on.

  Joe passed the red, white, and blue barber pole and held open the door to Bill’s Trim & Shave for Harry. Resolutely carrying his wooble, Harry stepped inside, his blue eyes wide.

  Bill Crandall stepped forward with a smile. “Well, hey there, young man. Will you be needing a shave today or just a trim?”

  Joe settled back in a chair and watched the monthly ritual unfold. “Both.” Harry slid a glance at his father. “Please.”

  “And if you have time when you’re done, I’d like a little trim if you don’t mind,” Joe said.

  Bill sent him a knowing look. “I’m sure I can fit you in, Mayor.”

  Settling a booster seat on one of the three barber chairs, Bill lifted the little boy into it and fastened a smock around Harry’s neck, careful to keep the wooble under the protection of the bright green plastic. Tucking a warm towel into the neck of the smock, Bill then squirted a fistful of shaving cream into Harry’s palm.

  “Go to town with that, now, pardner.”

  With a shout of glee, Harry smashed the cream between both palms and slapped it on his cheeks.

  Joe grinned as he watched Bill proceed to cut Harry’s bright blond hair. The man must be near seventy, having cut Joe’s hair since he was Harry’s age, but
his hands were steady and quick as he made his way around Harry’s small head.

  “Sweetpea tells me that Miss Paris is on the mend. I think the two of them might have had a confrontation or two about Miss Paris’s inability to follow directions, but the patient made it through anyhow.”

  No matter how many times he heard Mrs. Crandall’s nickname spoken by her contemporaries, he could never reconcile it with his recollections of his strict fifth-grade teacher. Joe crossed a foot over his other knee and leaned back in the chair. “Now, those are two personalities I don’t ever want to see clashing. I’m surprised Sheriff Adams wasn’t called in.”

  “He probably would have if Miss Paris hadn’t shown my wife all those flattering pictures she’d taken of her. She let Sweetpea take one home, and I have to say it’s better than that Glamour Shots photo she had taken last year at the mall.” He stopped snipping and looked at Joe over the rims of his glasses. “Not that I don’t think Sweetpea is naturally beautiful, of course, but that Miss Paris seems to have a way with a camera, don’t ya know?”

  “That she does.”

  “I wonder if she’s thinking of opening a photography studio in town. Right now, everybody has to go into Monroe if they want those fancy pictures. It would be nice to have one right here in Walton.”

  “She’s not planning on staying.” He spoke the words quickly.

  Bill glanced at him again but didn’t say anything. “Well, there’ll be some of us real sad to see her go. Sweetpea’s been enjoying her role as mother hen. But I somehow don’t see Miss Paris as someone who wants to be mothered.”

  Joe thought back to the Suzanne he had first seen with the wary eyes and the slumped shoulders. “You might be surprised,” he said quietly.

  The bells chimed over the door, and Joe held back a groan as he spotted Stinky entering the barbershop, his forehead glistening with sweat despite the cool temperature outside.

  “Hey, Bill. I need a trim and a shave. Can you fit me in?”

  Bill glanced over at Joe, and Joe shook his head. “I just remembered I have something to do at the office as soon as you’re done with Harry.”

  After giving Joe a knowing look, Bill turned back to Stinky. “Have a seat and I’ll be with you as soon as I finish with this very important customer.”

  Harry giggled as Stinky took a chair two down from Joe.

  “Always a pleasure, Mayor.” Stinky picked up the latest issue of the Walton Sentinel and spread it wide. “Just saw Maddie at the town square, scraping paint. She didn’t look too happy.”

  “She’s not supposed to be happy. She’s being punished.”

  Stinky clucked his tongue, still focusing on the newspaper. “How’s a man who can’t control his own daughter supposed to run an entire town? Just to give you a heads-up, that’s going to be my next campaign slogan.”

  Joe wobbled his foot over his knee to work out his anger. If that didn’t work, he’d be obliged to send a fist into Stinky’s smug, round face. “Thanks, Charles. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Turning a page in the newspaper and keeping his voice low so that only Joe could hear, Stinky said, “I hear you’ve been checking me out and sticking your nose into places it don’t belong.”

  Joe’s foot stilled, but he continued to watch Harry as he searched for a calm voice. “If you don’t have anything to hide, it shouldn’t worry you. However, if there is something you’d prefer the voting population of Walton not to know, then I’d say you’re up shit creek without a paddle.”

  Stinky folded up the paper with a snap and dropped it on the low table. “What are you implying?”

  Regarding him evenly, Joe said, “I know you’re in debt up to your eyeballs. I also know that you own over one hundred acres of virgin pine forest out by the interstate that could be worth a modest fortune. Which leaves me wondering why you haven’t openly put it on the market yet, and why you’re running for mayor. If it’s because as mayor you’ll be on the rezoning commission, forget it. You’d have to fight all the other council members and sway public opinion. If you have any thoughts regarding deforestation and a manufacturing plant, it’s not going to happen. The people won’t allow it.” He felt hot and angry and stuck his finger into his neckband to loosen it.

  Stinky leaned in closer. “There’s a way for everything, and everybody has their price. Even you, Mayor. Heck, I’ll even stop my campaign if you just find it in yourself to agree with me on a few development issues.”

  “Is that a bribe? I can have you arrested for that.”

  Stinky stood suddenly but kept his voice lowered. “You don’t know what you’re messing with here, Mayor. Leave it be.” He pointed his finger at Joe’s chest. “And tell your girlfriend that I’m onto her. I don’t think her past is all that lily-white. Either stop sticking your nose into my business, or stories of her lurid past are going to be on billboards up and down the interstate.”

  Stinky approached the barber’s chair as Bill unbuttoned Harry’s smock and set the little boy on the floor. His face had been wiped clean except for a smudge of cream on the tip of his nose. Swiping it off with his finger, Joe lifted the child in his arms.

  “Can I have a peppermint stick now, Daddy? I was real good and didn’t wiggle.”

  Before Joe could reach the jar on the counter, Stinky had stuck in a hand and pulled one out, handing it to Harry.

  Joe jerked Harry away. “We don’t take candy from strangers.” Moving in front of Stinky, he pulled out another stick and handed it to his son.

  “Funny. You let a stranger watch your kids. What kind of parent does that?” Stinky leaned closer, his breath smelling of onions and ketchup. “She could be some kind of a pervert—or a murderer. And you let her watch your kids, no questions asked. I think you’re investigating the wrong person, Mayor.”

  Stinky approached the barber’s chair. Stopping, he turned around and faced Joe, his eyes hard. “You lay off my back, and I’ll lay off yours. Because either way, you’re not going to like what you find.” He settled his bulk into the chair and closed his eyes as Bill placed a smock around his bullish neck.

  Joe placed a ten and a five on the counter and waved to Bill before leaving the shop with Harry perched on his hip. He had no intention of backing off. Whatever Stinky or Suzanne might be hiding, he would continue to search until he found it. And he could only hope Stinky was wrong.

  CHAPTER 16

  Suzanne took the manila folder out of her backpack and stared at the eight-by-ten photograph inside. Damn. The folder had been bent, creasing the border of the photograph. This photo had been her favorite, the one she couldn’t bear to part with, so she had stuck it in the folder and then into her bag in her rush to put Anthony deSalvo behind her, and had forgotten it until now.

  She frowned at the picture, wondering what she could do. The crease wasn’t deep enough to have ruined the picture, but it needed to be placed under something heavy to flatten it. She thought for a moment before heading toward the cardboard table set up in another upstairs bedroom, where she had been working on Maddie’s album.

  She stuck the photograph inside the back cover, making sure it was wedged tightly into the binding. Before she closed the album, she opened it to where she had left off earlier. The photos were from a family trip to the beach, with a young Maddie and her parents along with Sarah Frances and Joey. Harriet, heavily pregnant and wearing a maternity bathing suit, sat building a sand castle with the children, her eyes bright and with crinkles in the corners from smiling into the camera.

  Maddie sat next to her mother, not participating in the sand castle building, but instead keeping her hands on Harriet, as if she were holding her down to the earth. Maybe it was because Maddie had been an only child for three years that she considered her siblings as stealing part of her mother away. Or maybe she knew her mother’s presence in her life was only temporary, like shifting sand under the pull of the surf.

  Downstairs, somebody knocked loudly on the front door.

  Closin
g the album firmly, Suzanne went downstairs.

  She flipped on the porch light and opened the door. Joe stood on the porch, with a small bag from Lucinda’s Lingerie in his hand and a look on his face that did funny things inside her chest.

  “If you’re coming to laugh at my polka dots, you’re too late. They’re almost gone, and Lucinda’s given me a cover-up cream to disguise the rest. You’re out of luck.”

  “Darn. Well, since I’m already here, I guess we’ll have to find something else to do.”

  Trying to appear calm, Suzanne stepped back, allowing Joe to come in. She looked pointedly at the bag. “Please tell me that’s slippers. I can barely walk in these things.” She indicated the enormous fur balls on her feet.

  He followed her gaze and grinned. “Ah, no. But I’ll be sure to bring some next time.” He held out the bag to Suzanne. “This is a bathing suit. Lucinda picked it out, so if it’s too revealing you’ll have to blame her.”

  Taking the bag, she looked at him with a furrowed brow. “It’s fall. Why would you be bringing me a bathing suit?”

  “I’m going to teach you to swim.”

  She tried to hand back the bag. “No way. Firstly, I’m afraid of water. Secondly, it’s too cold outside.”

  “Well, firstly, I’ll be with you so you don’t need to be scared, and secondly, we’ll be in the heated Jacuzzi.”

  “You’re joking, right? I mean, you can’t swim in a Jacuzzi.”

  “No, you can’t, but you can learn other things.” He paused for a moment, and she wondered if he could hear the blood swishing through her brain as she completed the sentence for him in her head.

  His eyes widened as if he could read her mind. “Like how to hold your breath in the water and float. That should pretty much cover our first lesson.” He took a step toward her. “You told me you wanted to learn how to swim. To learn what it was like when I was a boy.”