Finally Free

by Lynne Gentry

  I can’t remember where Charlotte is in the process of severing her ties to that sorry husband of hers and I don’t want to ask. I’ve already humiliated myself enough today by letting the doctor’s appointment slip my mind. “I told LaVera we were on our way.”

  I love having Charlotte and Aria around, but I miss the company of people my age. People who understand the irritation of being treated like a child simply because you’re growing old. Neither LaVera’s very attentive son nor her bag full of fancy potions and creams have stopped her slide down the slippery slope. Maybe LaVera’s face doesn’t look a day over fifty and her mind doesn’t run off on tangents of its own, but LaVera’s body is letting her down almost as fast as my brain is failing me. After my nursing home escape caper and my accidental stumble back to Fossil Ridge, I was so relieved to find LaVera waiting on the porch. Her initial welcome was spry enough, but later, I noticed quite a bit of huffing and puffing as my old friend scurried around the kitchen to scramble some eggs and burn a few pieces of toast.

  “You can use my phone and call LaVera when we get to Dr. Ellis’s office.” Charlotte’s annoyed, but I’m not sure if she’s annoyed with me or everything that has to do with me. It’s all the same, I guess. “That way you can ask if we can bring her anything from town. We’ll drop by with the eggs this afternoon.”

  “She made a cake.”

  “We’ll have some this afternoon.”

  “It’ll be so dry by then, we won’t be able to cut it with a hacksaw.” My desperation isn’t helping my case. “I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

  “I’ve heard you tell LaVera to her face that she can’t cook. You’ve never worried about LaVera’s feelings before. Why are you so worried now?”

  “She set out her Avon samples for Aria to look through.”

  Charlotte jiggles the key in the ignition. “We don’t have time for cake or digging through old cosmetics.”

  “You and Caroline always enjoyed playing in LaVera’s makeup bag.”

  Charlotte’s hand drops from the key and comes to rest on my bony knee. “Tell you what, Momma, on the way home, I’ll drop you and Ari at LaVera’s and you can hack off pieces of dry cake and show off your granddaughter for as long as you’d like, okay?”

  Outside, I give a nonchalant shrug. Inside, I’m celebrating. After the cold slipper humiliation, I wasn’t sure I could successfully rally my wits again. “You’re in the driver’s seat.”

  Charlotte pats my leg the same way I used to placate a struggling child. “Only because you don’t have a driver’s license, remember?”

  “Let’s skip the doctor and go straight to the DMV,” I say.

  “You haven’t passed the eye test in three years.”

  “I’ve got new glasses now.”

  “True, but...” Charlotte fiddles with the keys. “I noticed you seemed to be having trouble reading the calendar.”

  “You’re worried I’ll get lost again, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not that. I can put a tracker on the car or get you a cell phone I can track.”

  “I’d rather wear a big cow bell around my neck,” I huff for emphasis. “What’s the real reason you don’t want me to drive?”

  “Let’s get your eyes tested again. If you can pass the driver’s eye test and the tests Dr. Ellis will have for you today, we’ll see about you driving.” Charlotte’s answer is not reassuring.

  “Are you taking my keys away from me?”

  “Momma, nobody’s taking anything away—”

  “You’ve taken everything.”

  “Don’t worry about driving, Nana.” Aria leans forward. “I can get a hardship license at fifteen. I’ll drive you to LaVera’s and all the way to Austin to see Ira if that’s what you want.”

  Charlotte’s head is a Lazy Susan spinning around on her shoulders. Surprise has made her pop-eyed. “What makes you think you can drive at fifteen?”

  “I Googled it.” Aria thrusts her phone between the bucket seats. “At fourteen I can start driver’s ed. When I’m fifteen, I can apply for a learner’s permit. After that, all I’ve got to do is pass a test, provide proof of Texas residency, and explain why it’s a hardship on my family if I don’t drive. But that should be easy.”

  “And why is that?” Charlotte’s sarcastic tone doesn’t faze Aria.

  “Look at the dust on this car.” Aria drags her finger along the console. “I live in the boonies with a gun-toting looney, right Nana?”

  I can’t help laughing at Aria’s willingness to judge my little dust up with that sneaky real estate developer in the lighthearted vein it deserves. If only Charlotte were willing to do the same, we could spend this lovely morning getting reacquainted instead of wasting a perfectly good day waiting on a doctor to tell us what we already know: The remaining days of Sara Slocum’s sanity are too precious to waste.

  “Brilliant idea, Aria.” Initiative is something I believe deserves to be nurtured. “I’ve always wanted a musically gifted chauffeur.”

  Charlotte shoots me the fish eye, then lasers an equal amount of disapproval on Aria. “You’re only thirteen, Ari.”

  “Just until September.” Aria pulls back her phone and gives it a couple of those magic taps. “I’ve already checked into taking Driver’s Ed next summer. Lots of kids around here must do it because they only had a couple of slots left. So, I went ahead and signed up.” She turns the screen of information toward her mother. “See?”

  “You signed up? Without asking me?”

  “Geez, Mom. Don’t freak. It’s not like they’ve charged the fee to your credit card yet.”

  “Yet?” Charlotte’s voice raises a notch.

  “They’ll hold my spot for a couple of weeks.”

  “Ari, we haven’t even talked about this.”

  “That’s why we’re talking about it now. I can’t apply for my hardship license until I pass the driver’s ed test. And I’m going to pass that test. All you have to do is sign off. Dad will pay the fee.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I asked him.”

  The hair on the back of Charlotte’s neck stands straight out. “You’ve already talked to your father about driver’s ed?”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  With the enviable agility of youth, Charlotte slaps her hand across her mouth. It is worth the price of admission to watch her work at holding back the lecture she believes Aria deserves for going behind her back. I don’t sympathize with Charlotte even a little. Martin was always Charlotte’s first choice when she wanted something.

  “Let me pay for the driving class, Charlotte,” I say.

  Charlotte ignores my offer. “Ari, I thought you wanted to audition for a spot in Juilliard’s summer program next year.”

  “Maybe she can do both.” Normally, these are the kinds of battles where I back out and let the parents fight it out with their child, but Charlotte’s making a mess. She needs my help. “Juilliard’s summer programs are usually only four to five weeks long.”

  Aria pops her head between us again. “How do you know so much about Juilliard, Nana?”

  “I remember when—”

  “Enough, Mother.” Charlotte straightens in the seat and places her hand on the key. “None of us are going anywhere if I can’t get this car started.”

  “You remember what, Nana?” Aria isn’t going to let this one drop. “Nana?”

  I can’t believe my tongue had become so unhinged. Slocums are tight-lipped. But there are so many things Charlotte doesn’t want discussed in front of Aria that I need a cheat-sheet to keep them straight. Charlotte’s childhood plans and dreams are off limits. Caroline’s death is taboo. And I might as well commit my own suicide if I ever dare to mention Martin’s decision to take his own life.

  What’s left to talk about? Aria’s obsession with her phone? Charlotte’s obsession with restoring the ranch? My obsession with this mental battle raging in my head? The latter subject won’t take more than a couple of seconds
to cover. I intend to win my personal health war and hang on to my mind as long as I can. End of story.

  I pretend not to hear Aria’s pleas and pat the dash. “Third time is always a charm with this one.” I hold up crossed fingers and nod to Charlotte to crank the Escort again. “She’s temperamental.”

  “Like me?” The car sputters to life, sparing me the need to answer. Charlotte drops the shifter into reverse. The engine screeches. “What on earth?”

  “My cat!” Aria claps her hands over her ears and shouts, “Stop, Mom! Fig’s caught under the hood.”

  I grab Aria before she can scramble out. “That’s just the serpentine belt,” I holler over the high-pitched squeal.

  “You sure, Nana?”

  I nod. “Give her time to warm up.”

  “It’s a hundred degrees out here.” Charlotte pumps the gas. “The engine is warm.” She drops the shifter into drive. An ear-piercing sound shakes the entire vehicle. “How long has it been since you’ve had your car serviced?”

  “I haven’t driven since before you put me in old people’s prison.”

  “The Reserve was hardly a prison, Mother.”

  “Bo’s my mechanic. When we get to town we can stop at his service station.” I yank the seatbelt from the ceiling latch. “He’ll spray it with something and she’ll purr as contented as Aria’s cat.”

  “Not funny, Nana.” Aria slumps into the back seat.

  Charlotte taps the gas and the car lurches forward. “I hope we make it to town.”

  The belt squeals as we motor down the lane, past LaVera’s drive, and over the trestle bridge that spans the Frio. By the time we putter into the city limits, Charlotte’s knuckles are white and my head’s throbbing. I’ll have to work extra hard to scrape my brain cells together if I’m going to ace this round of cognitive tests.

  “You missed Bo’s station,” I point at the orange and green sign on the corner of Tucker’s Towing and Gas Station.

  “We’re late.” Charlotte tightens her grip on the wheel. “We’ll have to stop on our way out of town.”

  I turn in my seat and study my daughter carefully. “You saw Winnie’s VW parked under the canopy and decided to blow on by, didn’t you?”

  “Momma, I wish Winnie and Bo nothing but the best.”

  From the twitch in Charlotte’s clenched jaw, I doubt that’s completely true. “Then why are we still screeching down the road?”

  “Because it’s more important to me to know what can be done for you than what can be done for this old car.”

  “For me or to me?”

  Charlotte starts to say something, changes her mind, then whips the Escort into one of the many open parking slots in the abandoned strip-mall parking lot. Fluorescent lights glow in only one of the storefronts, the other four commercial spaces are deserted and dark. Below a humming window air conditioning unit, someone has painted: Dr. Benjamin Ellis.

  “I can’t believe it’s come to this.” I stare at the sign, unable to make myself get out of the car. “Benjamin showed such exceptional promise in third grade.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Coming home to practice medicine in a deserted shopping center has to be a... disappointment.”

  Charlotte cuts the engine and the screeching comes to a blessed halt. “Is that true for lawyers who come home to paint old farm houses?”

  “Nobody’s making you paint my house, Charlotte Ann.” I open the door and do what I can to put a spring in my step, because dragging into Benjamin’s office won’t do any of us any good.

  Bodies of all shapes and sizes fill most of the plastic chairs crammed into the small, dowdy waiting area. The chugging window unit spits out very little cool. In the sticky heat, I detect traces of ink and toner leftover from the days when the Dixon family operated an office supply store in this space.

  “Aria, could you please grab a seat for Nana?” Charlotte takes me by the elbow. “Let’s get you checked in, Momma.” Charlotte knocks on the opaque, sliding glass window. When no one answers, she sticks her finger in the little notch and slides the panel back herself. The chair behind the desk is empty. “Hello, anyone here?”

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad.” Some tall brunette with her hair twisted up and held in place by a plastic clip bustles in from the hall. She looks familiar, but I can’t immediately place her. “I’ll be with you when I get to you.” She drops into the rolling desk chair behind the counter.

  “Corina?” Charlotte’s leaning in for a better look. “Corina Klump?”

  The woman lowers the red-framed glasses perched on the top of her head. “It’s Corina Miller now.” Dark lashes frame the enormous green eyes studying Charlotte the same way a cat studies a canary before it pounces. “Do I know you?”

  “Charlotte Slocum...McCandless now.” Charlotte’s cheesy smile screams remember me? “Caroline Slocum’s little sister.”

  Corina’s striking features furrow like she doesn’t believe Charlotte’s claim. “You’ve changed.”

  Charlotte gives that short-sheeted laugh, the one I can’t stand because it belies her nerves and makes her seem weak. “You look exactly like you did when you captained the cheerleading squad.”

  “Caroline was the captain,” Corina corrects. “She beat me by one vote.” A deadly smile lifts the corners of the ex-cheerleader’s mouth. “I always thought it was you who cast that deciding ballot.”

  “Me? Why would—”

  “That’s enough, Corina.” I push between Charlotte and the glass panel and stick my head through the opening. “No wonder Raymond Leck bit you, Corina.”

  “What?” she says.

  “You were a spiteful little thing in third grade, and when I pointed out this character flaw to your mother, she said you’d eventually outgrow it. I suspect your mother now wishes she would have heeded my counsel.” I mercifully leave out the part that she’s also the mother of two of the worst-behaved kids to ever come through the elementary school doors.

  “Momma!” Charlotte hauls me from the window. “I’m sorry, Corina. She’s just anxious about her appointment.”

  “Well, she’ll just have to wait,” Corina nods toward the full waiting room. “As you can see, Dr. Ellis is extremely busy.”

  “Never too busy for my favorite teacher.” Dr. Ellis appears in the doorway behind the steaming ex-cheerleader. “Send them on back, Corina.”

  Corina’s pink cheeks turn an eat-crow shade of crimson. “Certainly, Doctor.”

  I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help reaching around Charlotte and waving with every ounce of sweetness I can muster, “Morning, Benjamin.”

  “Morning, Mrs. Slocum. Meet me at the hall door and I’ll usher you to an exam room myself.”

  “You heard him.” Corina reaches up to shut the sliding glass divider.

  I thrust my hand in time to stop the glass from closing. “If you’re still keeping score, you should also blame Charlotte for Caroline’s election as homecoming queen, president of your senior class, and Miss Addisonville. My Charlotte’s quite the go-getter when she sets her mind to it.”

  “Momma, what’s gotten into you?” Charlotte’s grip pinches nearly clean through my elbow as she leads me to the open door on the opposite side of the waiting room. “Corina is not worth it.”

  “But your self-esteem is,” I huff. “You teach people how to treat you, Charlotte Ann and Aria is watching.”

  “Over here, Mrs. Slocum.” Dr. Ellis holds the door open with his backside and leans in to the waiting room with a friendly smile. “I’ll be with y’all shortly,” he tells the perturbed patients eyeing us. “This woman is a legend.”

  “See?” I whisper to Charlotte as I wave off his praise. “Just his third-grade teacher.” Inside, I’m soaking up the admiration. “Mind if my daughter and granddaughter join us, Benjamin?”

  “Not if you don’t.” His smile whips right on past me and lands squarely on Charlotte. I couldn’t have chosen a more perfect place for
my favorite student’s attention to park. “Hello, Charlotte.”

  The attractive, deep timbre of his greeting clearly rattles Charlotte’s bones because she sputters, “Itty...I mean, Benjamin.”

  “Itty’s fine,” Benjamin says with a grin. “In fact, I miss my old nickname...almost as much as I’ve missed marching band.”

  “You still play?” Charlotte drags the tiny gold treble clef back and forth on the chain around her neck. She is turning all different shades of red and stammering as if her tongue is swollen to twice its normal size, but at least she doesn’t emit a single peep of that short-sheeted laugh of hers.

  That’s something. Exactly what, I’m not quite sure, but something.

  “Yep, some of the church’s worship band members put together a little jazz ensemble and asked me to join them.” Benjamin motions for us to step into the inside hall, but instead of following me, he just stands there...staring at Charlotte. “We could use someone who rocks the keys. You interested?”

  “She doesn’t swim anymore.” Aria breaks right into the middle of Charlotte and Benjamin’s awkward stare. “And she hasn’t touched a piano in years, according to Nana.”

  Benjamin’s gaze drops to the small blonde with her hands jammed on her hips and her chin raised like she’s looking for a fight. A wide grin breaks on his face. “Charlotte, there’s no denying that this little firecracker belongs to you.”

  Aria rolls her eyes but I’m smiling like a cat who’s just been handed a bowl of cream.

  “Momma says she’s a chip off the old block.” Charlotte’s hands cup Aria’s shoulders. “Ari, this is Itty...I mean, Dr. Ellis. I’ve known him a long time. He’s one of the best trumpet players you’ll ever meet.”

  Chapter 9

  CHARLOTTE

  To keep myself from pacing the yellowed tiles of the windowless exam room, I lean against the small sink and whip the music charm back and forth on the chain. The longer I watch my mother struggle to draw a clock face, the tighter the noose grows around my neck.