Over Her Head

by Shelley Bates

  Kelci’s face was expressionless as she waved a palm-size silver unit at him, one Nick had seen advertised for about five hundred bucks. Where did the daughter of a night-shift nurse get the money for that kind of toy?

  “We’ll send you copies, Tim,” Kelci promised with a glance at Kate. “Bye.”

  Tim grabbed Nick’s and Tanya’s hands and pulled them around in the direction of home as the other kids trooped across the Platt yard and into the house. He chattered for three solid blocks, to the point where neither Nick nor Tanya could get a word in edgewise. When they reached Nick’s truck, parked in the Hale driveway, they stopped and he handed Tim the cream.

  “Take this to your mom, okay? We’re going to head off.”

  The ten-year-old stared at them, confusion darkening his brown eyes. “Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

  “We were, but Ms. Peizer isn’t feeling up to it. Give me a rain check?”

  Tim shook his head and looked sorry for him. “Man, you’re giving up Mom’s pumpkin pie. Are you nuts?”

  “Well, sometimes we have to make sacrifices when we put someone else’s welfare first. But I’ll be getting a double burger with the works at the Split Rail. Think of me when you’re working on that brussels sprout.”

  Tim blew him a raspberry and ran into the house, where Nick could hear Laurie’s voice from out in the driveway before the door shut.

  As he opened the door of the truck for Tanya, he wondered just how much the Hale family planned on thanking God for a day like today.

  Because if he were honest, he’d admit he had more to be thankful for right now than they did. And who was responsible for that? God—in a case of giving with one hand and taking away with the other? Or was it all just a matter of chance and bad timing?

  Not the most cheerful outlook. Faith seemed to make incurable optimists out of people—except maybe for Tanya, who appeared to have her feet on the ground.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Tanya said as they motored at a law-abiding twenty-five miles per hour to the other side of town.

  His smile was a rueful tightening of one corner of his mouth. “I was just thinking that I have a lot more to be thankful for than the Hales do today. And wondering if it is a case of God giving with one hand and taking away with the other.”

  “I wasn’t feeling very thankful this morning,” Tanya admitted. “It didn’t seem worth it to even get out of bed, and putting on good clothes was almost more than I could handle. But then you drove up and things seemed to get better. For a while.” She paused. “Losing it in the kitchen wasn’t so good.”

  “I’m sure Laurie will understand.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know what happened to me. Those words just came up out of nowhere and I couldn’t control them.”

  He hesitated. “Are you talking to anyone? Like a counselor?”

  “Where am I going to get the money for that?” She threw him a glance.

  “It might not cost money. Maybe through your church? Laurie would know.”

  “Maybe I’ll ask her. Right after I apologize.”

  “You should talk to someone, Tanya. You’re grieving. Nobody expects you to handle this all alone.”

  “I’m not alone. My Bible study group is always around. Laurie wasn’t there yesterday, though.”

  He thought about Kate and the scene in the police department’s lobby, and about Anna’s face. “She’s got a lot on her mind.”

  She straightened a little. “Well, now I have you and a burger. I’m thankful for that.”

  “Lucky for me your expectations are low.”

  He meant it to be a joke, but she didn’t take it that way. “They aren’t, you know. Since I met Christ, my expectations have done a one-eighty.”

  He didn’t want to hear about Christ. He didn’t want to know about her expectations. Maybe this was a mistake.

  “Maybe some of the problems between Randi and me were because my expectations for her weren’t high enough.”

  “Problems?” He hadn’t heard her mention those before. All he’d seen was the love and the loss.

  “Oh, we had problems, believe me. But I seemed to live down to my parents’ expectations. I wonder if I was encouraging Randi to do the same. Maybe if I’d done things differently, she would still be here.”

  “Tanya, don’t go there. It’s no good blaming yourself. It won’t change anything. We have to live with what’s real.”

  He could see the Split Rail from where they idled at the light. The streets of downtown Glendale were practically empty, and he found a parking spot only half a block away.

  “I know,” she said. Her gaze was fixed on some view in the landscape in her mind. One that probably didn’t include storefronts. Whatever it was, it didn’t look good.

  “After all,” he said, “God made reality, right? That’s what we have to deal with. What he made.”

  She swung to face him. “What are you saying? That my wishing for what might have been is wrong? That Satan is behind it?”

  Oh, no. He wouldn’t get into a discussion of theology for anything. “I can’t say. I’m no authority. But let’s concentrate on what we have. We have you. We have me. You have friends who care about you. And we both have a double burger with the works. Right?”

  She pulled her coat more closely around her as the wind swept fallen leaves in front of itself down the street. “I suppose that’s something to be thankful for. I’ll mention that when I say grace over my supper.”

  Her eyes challenged him.

  “You do that,” he said, and she smiled, as if she’d won a victory.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Father in heaven, thank you for this wonderful feast during this season of thanksgiving,” Colin said from the head of the table, the huge turkey in front of him. “Thank you that we can gather around this table as a family. Lord, I pray that you would heal the breach between Laurie and Tanya. I pray that you would speak to Nick and bring him to a realization of your love. And most of all, Lord, I pray that you would give Anna the strength and courage to get to the other side of this rough experience. Give Nick the discernment to solve this case, so that this cloud of stress could be lifted from all of us. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Laurie murmured an “amen” while Colin got up to carve a turkey that was far too big for only the four of them. She was going to have to pull out all the stops as far as getting creative with leftovers went, or they’d be eating turkey with their ham at Christmas.

  Over Tim’s chatter and Anna’s monosyllabic replies, Tanya’s voice rang in her head, saying aloud the dreadful things that had been hiding in her own thoughts. Common sense and Nick had both told her that Randi had gone into the river too far away for Anna to have reached her. But subversive thoughts didn’t pay attention to common sense. And neither did small-town gossip.

  She forked turkey, dressing, and cranberries into her mouth at regular intervals. It may as well have been sand for all the enjoyment she got out of the fruits of her labors.

  “—and then me and KeShawn and Kelci and Kate came back. We saw Nick and Ms. Peizer in the path, practically kissing.”

  Laurie tuned her son back in with a jolt. “What?”

  “Ewwww!” he added for emphasis around a mouthful of sweet potato casserole.

  “Kissing?” Colin asked. “No kidding.” He exchanged a glance with Laurie, as though she should have some reaction. But she didn’t have much in the way of emotion left. Tim was probably mistaken.

  “Practically. Gross.”

  “Kate?” Anna repeated, a beat off. “Kate Parsons was with you?”

  “She was with Kelci. Me and KeShawn let them come to the store with us.”

  “What did you do there?” Anna persisted. Which was strange, because normally she couldn’t care less what a couple of kids did. She and Tim occupied different universes, and most of the time that suited them both just fine.

  “I got the whipping cream, duh.”

  “Tim,” his father said in
a warning tone.

  “What about after that? You were gone forever.”

  Tim shrugged, clearly more interested in his casserole than in giving his sister a blow-by-blow. “We goofed around. Took some pictures. Kelci says she’ll send them to me. You can put ’em on MySpace and tell everyone about how cool I am.”

  “Tim, listen to me,” Anna said, her tone strained. “Don’t go anywhere with those two. You get me?”

  “You’re not the boss of me, banana head.”

  “Mom,” Anna appealed to her mother. “Tell him.”

  Laurie sighed. Teenage histrionics, maybe, but she could hardly blame Anna. “Tim, your sister is right. Kate is saying nasty things about us, and until this is cleared up, you probably shouldn’t hang around with her.”

  “I wasn’t! I was with KeShawn. Those girls just butted in.”

  “Still—”

  “I mean it,” Anna broke in. “Kate could—” She stopped.

  Tim eyed her. “Could what?”

  “Could . . . talk about you,” she finished lamely. Then her eyes filled with tears and she pushed away from the table.

  “Anna, where are you going?” Laurie put out a hand to stop her. “You’ve hardly eaten anything.”

  “Up to my room.” Her chest hitched, as though sobs were about to burst the dam of her shaky control.

  “Sweetie, I know this is upsetting, but we have to put it aside for a while and think about what we have to be thankful for.”

  “Yeah? Like what?” Anna’s whole body shrieked of defeat and challenge, all at once. “What do I have to be thankful for? The whole school hates me. Nick thinks I’m a murderer, and so does Randi’s mom. You guys have your heads buried so far in the sand you can’t even see daylight, and you’re telling me I should be thankful? Way to go, Mom.”

  “Anna!” Colin exclaimed.

  But she was already pounding up the stairs to her room.

  Laurie tried to keep her lip from wobbling, but there was no stopping the tears that flooded her eyes, blurring the sight of her plate and everything around her. She gasped and then just gave in to it, pressing her napkin to her mouth and hunching over like an animal in pain.

  Because it did hurt. Everything hurt. It hurt that Anna only spoke the truth. It hurt that Tanya had thrown Laurie’s deepest, darkest doubts about Anna’s innocence right out into the kitchen to wound them all. And worst of all, it hurt that Anna’s pain was probably double hers, and she couldn’t do a blessed thing about it except sit here and cry like a two-year-old.

  “Mama?” Tim said in a way he hadn’t since he’d been small enough to pick up and cuddle. “Don’t cry.”

  Colin got up and put his arms around her. “Lor. Sweetie, please. Tim’s getting upset.”

  Which only made the tears come faster. “I’ve had enough!” she said with a gasp. “I’m done. I can’t take any more.”

  Oh, Lord, how long?

  The Bible said that, didn’t it? Wasn’t it David who was being hounded on all sides, with everybody in the kingdom giving him grief? The story of her life. Here she was, trying to be strong, getting Anna what she needed, getting Tanya what she needed. She looked after everyone. And everyone on all sides was attacking her for it.

  “Who’s going to take care of me?” she choked, trying to control the sobs that seemed to have a life of their own.

  An expression of complete bewilderment showered Colin’s face. “We need to think about the kids, Laurie. Come on, now Tim’s starting to cry.”

  She turned in her chair and gulped back the tears as she gathered Tim into her arms. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’m just upset.”

  Tim lifted his wet face to look into her eyes. “I’m sorry I was late bringing back the cream.”

  She kissed him and used her dinner napkin to wipe both of their faces. “No, not about that. I’m upset that Tanya and Nick had to go.”

  “Nick said she wasn’t feeling well,” Tim said.

  “I guess she wasn’t.”

  “They get to have hamburgers.”

  “And you get to have pumpkin pie. Why don’t you and Daddy go put a movie in, and we’ll digest for a little while, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Colin ruffled his hair affectionately and took him into the family room.

  Laurie surveyed the wreck of her Thanksgiving dinner over the massive carcass of the turkey. She scrubbed the napkin over her cheeks one more time, and still she sat while the casserole cooled and the gravy congealed in its white china boat.

  Then she took a deep breath and went out to the kitchen. Moving like a robot programmed to elegant efficiency, she began to clear up. First the condiments—including olives that the kids used to love to stick on their fingers like puppets. The cranberry sauce—her favorite, especially on turkey sandwiches later in the week. The potatoes and casserole, the gravy, the vegetables, and finally, the turkey. That took thirty minutes to deal with all by itself, and in the end she used every single Tupperware bowl she owned for its final resting place.

  The dishes followed, then the pots, then wiping down the counters. Two hours later, you’d never know a family had sat down to Thanksgiving dinner except for the extra leaf in the dining room table and the lingering scent of roasted meat.

  Two days of preparation, twenty minutes of meltdown, two hours of cleanup. Had it been worth it? She wasn’t sure.

  But in its own way, making order out of chaos was therapeutic. Mindless and sheer drudgery, yes, but therapeutic in that her sadness and anger and despair seemed to have leached away with every brussels sprout that went down the disposal. And she was left feeling empty and resigned and, well, kind of numb.

  Numb was good. Numb might get her some sleep tonight, because she sure hadn’t had much since the story of Kate’s dramatics in Tuesday’s paper.

  Numb might get her through the talk she had to have with Anna. She couldn’t let her poor darling go to sleep believing that Nick thought she was a murderer, or that Laurie was so clueless that she had no idea what Anna was going through.

  So, before her comfortable calm wore off, she walked past the living room, where Colin and Tim were watching Robots, and climbed the stairs to Anna’s room. The door, naturally, was shut, but despite the seriousness of her visit, a house rule was a house rule. She knocked.

  Anna, as she might have expected, didn’t answer. “Anna, it’s Mom. Can I come in?”

  No reply. She pushed open the door and flipped on the light.

  No Anna.

  Oh, no. Not the window again.

  A quick check told her that the window was locked from the inside, so Anna hadn’t risked extending her punishment into the New Year by running over to Kyle’s for comfort. She must be in the bathroom.

  Sure enough, a strip of light showed under the bathroom door. “Anna, I want to talk to you.”

  Silence, except for the sound of running water. “Anna?” she called a little louder.

  Well, this was just rude. There was no excuse for the silent treatment—something her grandmother Tremore had dished out with regularity and which Laurie hated and refused to allow.

  She pushed open the door and for a moment, her brain couldn’t frame what her eyes were telling her.

  The medicine cabinet was open.

  A bottle of Tylenol lay on its side on the counter. A couple of capsules lay beside it. There were more on the floor.

  Next to Anna.

  Who was unconscious and barely breathing, with half a dozen capsules still locked in her hand.

  “Colin!”

  The scream that tore from her throat gave her a flash of pain, as if it had shredded flesh on its way past.

  Colin came pounding up the stairs, Tim on his heels, and they both skidded to a halt in the bathroom doorway. One look was all it took.

  “Nine one one.” Colin did an about-face and dashed into the bedroom, where Laurie could hear him giving details to the emergency operator with grim precision.

/>   “Mom, what’s the matter with Anna?” Tim’s lip began to wobble again, and from the bathroom floor, she reached up for him.

  “She took too many Tylenols and they knocked her out,” she managed. I will not cry again. I will not. I’ve got to keep it together.

  “We learned about that in Health. People do that to kill themselves.”

  “Anna did not try to kill herself.” She hoped she was lying firmly enough to be convincing. Against Tim’s warm body, her heart pounded with such force she wondered that he couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t get any air into her lungs. “She just made a mistake.”

  A mistake. Please, Lord, let it just have been a mistake.

  “They’ll be here in a few minutes.” Colin appeared in the doorway, his face gray and drawn. Already the siren wailed in the distance, the sound like the keening of a bereaved parent. “Tim, go outside and flag the ambulance down.” When Tim bolted out of the room, he asked, “Is she still breathing? Did you give her CPR?”

  Laurie put a gentle hand on her daughter’s chest. From where she knelt on the linoleum, she could see the slight—dangerously slight—rise and fall.

  “She’s breathing. Oh, Colin. I’m so sorry.”

  He knelt, too, folding his height so he could slip one arm around her shoulders and hold Anna’s wrist with the other hand while he felt for her pulse. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I should have seen it. Jed should have told us. We could have done something before it came to this—before she thought this was the answer.”

  “Shhhh. It will be okay.”

  The siren penetrated the very walls of the house, then shut off. In the ringing silence, they could hear Tim’s voice downstairs. “My sister took too many Tylenols. She’s in the bathroom. Up here.”

  The EMTs pounded up the stairs, and in less time than Laurie would ever have expected, they had Anna intubated, strapped to a gurney, and loaded into the back of the ambulance.

  “I’m going with her.” Laurie already had her coat on and her purse over her shoulder.

  “I’ll take Tim to my mom’s and meet you at the hospital.”