by Unknown
“Tell me. Now.”
So Amy did.
Chapter 36
Hannah woke, her face crushed against the arm of the sofa with her neck twisted awkwardly, to the crash of one of the photo albums falling from where she had propped it up next to her onto the floor. Pam’s living room was filling slowly with the ghostly gray light of early morning. Around her, on the floor, piled on the large squat coffee table, at her feet, were every one of the Barefooter’s photo albums, brought to the house yesterday.
After her visit with Mrs. McGrath, unable to breathe properly, she bypassed Pam’s house and ended up at the Barefooter house. There she gathered up the rest of the albums, taking them to Pam’s in batches, her final decision made. She would search them all night until she found the evidence she knew was there. Then she would leave the island, leave everything. She didn’t know where she would go, or what she would do, but she couldn’t go on with this life, this outside-looking-in life, anymore.
She heard the grind of shoes on the sandy walkway outside of Pam’s front door and her eyes grew wide. Oh, no. Mrs. McGrath again?
Then there was a soft hooting sound, like children pretending to be owls. No, it was more melodic and rhythmic than that.
A woman’s voice, velvety-rough, sang out,
“Here is a little song I wrote
You might want to sing it note for note”
Then two other women’s voices joined in, one deep , the other high and yodeling.
“Don't worry, be happy.
In every life we have some trouble
When you worry you make it double
Don't worry, be happy......”
They paused to hoot some more and then the cowbell on the door started ringing. “Hey, Hannah! Don’t worry, be happy! Are you in there?”
Hannah sat up. It was the Barefooters! Here, now!
They continued singing, this time with the cowbell punctuating every verse.
“Ain't got no place to lay your head
Somebody came and took your bed
Don't worry, be happy
The landlord say your rent is late
He may have to litigate
Don't worry, be happy
Look at me I am happy”
She heard Aunt Pam say, “That could’ve used a little more cowbell, come on!” And the ringing of the cowbell went wild.
Hannah couldn’t help it. The bubble of laughter burst out of her throat.
“We hear you laughing in there!” Aunt Amy called.
“Yeah, we know you’re in there, and if you need more cowbell, we’ve got it!” Pam yelled and rang the cowbell again raucously.
Hannah laughed in spite of herself as she stumbled across the room to the front door. She threw it open to see the three women standing on the other side of the screen, all wearing hats. Hannah recognized the hats immediately: they were from her mother’s Mad Hatter’s Tea Party that she’d held when she still lived in Fairfield. Aunt Zo’s was a fisherman’s hat emblazoned with the words “Gone Fishin’”, the brim covered with dangling multi-colored lures. Aunt Pam was wearing one of those crazy beer-hat contraptions with two cans of Budweiser in it. Aunt Amy, seeing Hannah, lifted up the giant foam sombrero that overwhelmed her tiny frame and doffed it dramatically, sweeping it down by her side while bowing.
“Milady, pray tell, will you let us enter your abode?” Amy said.
“Ta da!” Zo said, jumping up and down a little while fanning her hands out and wiggling them like a jazz dancer.
“Oh, sweetie-pie, let me give you a hug,” Pam said, dropping the rope on the cowbell and stretching her arms out toward Hannah.
Hannah put her hands to her cheeks, smiling widely. Her face felt so strange, like the skin was being stretched. Oh, it was smiling. Other than Daniel’s aborted visit, she hadn’t smiled at all. And the laughter! It had felt like sucking in breaths of life-giving air after being kept underwater too long. “You guys! I can’t believe you’re here!”
Pam reached for the screen door handle and pulled it open. “I need a hug, already!” She opened her arms wide and Hannah fell into them, relishing the warm soapy familiar smell of her aunt, the beer cans in her aunt’s hat making a crinkling noise.
“Hey, what about me?” Zo said.
She was released from the soft warmth of Pam into Zo’s crushing bony embrace and smelled the sophisticated musky French perfume Zo always wore. The scent reminded Hannah of all the luxuries her aunt shared with her: Dead Sea mud masks and Egyptian cotton sheets and afternoon tea served with little Italian almond cookies. “Are you all right, my princess?”
“Now!” Amy shouted from behind Zo. “Are you going to let us in or what? And where’s my hug?”
“Oh, of course!” Hannah said over Zo’s shoulder, looking down at Amy’s fierce little face.
Zo released her, and then Amy gave Hannah a quick one-armed squeeze before breezing past her to go inside. “We’ll bring in all the goodies in a minute – holy, what’s going on in here? Hurricane Katrina? Jeez!”
Hannah cringed a little. The house was a mess. She had never cleaned up after her search for the ring, Michael’s box still sat in the corner of the living room, and now there were all the photo albums added to the already cluttered room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was coming,” she said, holding open the screen door for Zo and Pam to enter.
Zo stepped into the room, removing her hat, and stopped. “Wow. Hannah!”
Pam walked past Zooey, looked around and put her hands on her hips. “Aw, this is no big deal. Oh, wait! Did Daniel come?” She spun around and stared at Hannah sideways, bugging her eyes out and then looking away.
Hannah, who was still reeling from the shock of seeing them all here, took a minute to guess her meaning. Then she remembered about the Mean Greens recipe. Keep mum. “Oh, he stopped by, sure! Just for a little while.”
Pam’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I thought he was staying for the weekend?”
“Uh, yeah…, he had to work. Yeah, he couldn’t stay.”
“Oh! Too bad,” Pam said.
Zo put her hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back.”
“Of course he will!” Amy said, giving Zo a stern look. Zo removed her hand and stepped back.
“Now let’s get this party started,” Amy said, clapping her hands together. “First, we’ll clean up this mess, then mimosas on the dock in the morning sunshine. Once the sun comes up, that is.”
Looking around at her godmother-aunts, the giddy high Hannah felt only moments before plummeted and tears popped into her eyes. These women were her whole life; they were at the center of her every memory and belief she’d ever had. Yet they had known the truth all along and continued telling her fairytales about her father long after Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny had been outed. Or did they believe the lies? Were they lies? Thoughts flitted in and out of her mind with dizzying speed, doubt and hope warring.
“What? What’s the matter?” Zo said, seeing Hannah’s tears and reaching out to put her hands on her shoulders and stroking them. “I’ve never seen you cry, not in so long. You were just a little baby still.”
Sadness shot through her. It couldn’t be true. They all loved her; they couldn’t lie to her like that.
“I-“ Hannah said, and then let out a little sob before swallowing it down. “I’m just so happy to see you all. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Group hug!” Pam crowed and jogged over to enfold them both in her embrace, her beer hat falling off in the process and tumbling with a clatter onto the floor.
“Hey,” Amy said. “No fair! My arms are too small to wrap around all of you.”
“C’mere,” Pam said, reaching out her arm and taking Amy into the clutch.
“That’s better,” Amy said, her face lifted up under Pam’s armpit, “But this gooshy stuff has got to stop. We’re here to cheer you up, kiddo, and that’s what we’re going to do. I knew you were turning into a sad s
ack hanging around here all by yourself, I knew it!”
A half hour later the four of them sat on low lawn chairs at the end of Pam’s dock bundled up against the autumn chill in sweaters and jackets and holding pink plastic thermal cups filled with orange juice and champagne. Hannah had scrambled to hide Michael’s box in her room while her aunts were unloading the boat, grateful Amy had directed her to take care of clean-up while they brought in supplies and their bags.
Amy, her breath coming in clouds in the cool morning air leaned forward in her low-slung seat and raised her plastic glass in the air. “To fun times and sick minds!”
“Huzzah!” Pam said, lifting her glass to touch Amy’s.
“And to Daniel and Hannah’s wedding next summer right here on Captain’s – may true love reign!” Zo said, raising her glass and smiling at Hannah. She had been pushing for a wedding during next year’s Dog Days celebration ever since she heard about the engagement.
“Hear, hear!” Amy agreed, tapping her glass against the others a second time as did Pam.
Hannah tapped hers, too, and took a long drink. They were here, now, for her. She couldn’t believe it, how different the whole island was in their presence, even now after everything, the way it felt like a rollicking party already. There were tears still in her throat, but also a trembling high note of joy that pierced her from head to toe.
“Ah,” Amy said, sitting back and taking a sip of her drink. “At last. Except, something’s not quite right….oh, I know! Gotta get barefoot.” She put down her drink and bent over to untie her navy-blue canvas dock shoes.
Pam guffawed. “In this frigid weather? My feet will freeze off!”
Amy looked at her. “You promised – a real Barefooter mini-vaca for our Barefoot Baby. So, we’re here. Get ‘em off.”
“You guys aren’t allowed to look at my feet,” Zo said, bending over to slip off her loafers and exposing lily-white slender feet. “No polish. Didn’t have time.”
Amy said, “Hannah? Come on.”
“It’s fifty degrees out here!” Hannah said, laughing.
Pam shook her head long and slow, grunting a little to reach her feet, her rounded stomach and huge bosom in the way. “Nah, forty.”
“If it’s above freezing, it’s safe,” Zo said. “Come on, sweetie. It’s a tradition.”
“In the fall? I thought that was only in the summer.” Hannah reached for her sneakers and yanked them off and then peeled off her socks, feeling the icy air sweep over her feet. “Yikes!”
Picking up her glass again, Amy said. “Don’t worry, we’ll put them back on in a minute. But we must honor the Barefooter pact: naked feet, summer heat, water blue, friendships true.”
“More like blue feet,” Pam grumbled, trying to tuck her now-bare feet under her for warmth.
“You’re such a sissy,” Amy said, sticking her tongue out at Pam and then grinning at her.
“So,” Zooey said, her voice becoming suddenly deep and lugubrious. “What do you want to do?”
Amy answered in the same super-slow comical tone, turning her face up to the sky, “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”
Pam shook her head, making her sad-dog face. “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”
The Barefooters did this routine, sometimes for hours, when they just felt like relaxing and not moving an inch. Hannah sat and watched her aunts lean back in their chairs, wallowing in each other’s company. This was reality, her reality, wasn’t it? She wanted it to be. It was simple and it was good. It was what she knew. But she could still hear Mrs. McGrath’s horrible words, felt that click again, the one where everything suddenly made sense. Which was the truth: this or that? Both felt true and both felt wrong in different ways.
She leaned forward, “Aunties? I need to know something. About my mom?”
Zo’s head popped up. “What, honey?”
They were all looking at her then, lifted up a little in their seats, their languor gone. Hannah felt her face flood with heat. But she had to ask. “I.., I was wondering something. I know it sounds crazy, but did my mom…did she want me?”
Pam tipped her head back and hooted. “Ho! Ho! That is crazy!”
“Of course, she did! We all did! You’re the most important thing in the whole world! You’re our baby!” Zo said, leaning forward, her face intent and suddenly serious.
“What do ya mean, ya looney tune?” Amy said, leaning over and reaching out wiggling fingers. “That’s crazy talk! Do you want a tickling? Am I gonna hafta tickle some sense into you?”
“No!” Hannah said, cringing away from Amy’s fingers. “I just, I was-“
“I’m gonna tickle ya!” Amy said, stretching even farther, the tips of her fingers brushing Hannah’s side near her armpit.
“Ha! Ha!” Hannah laughed helplessly.
“See! That’s what you needed! You needed a laugh attack!” Amy said, giggling herself and tickling Hannah in earnest now with both hands, her drink tipping over when she put it down in her haste to get at Hannah, her fairy goddaughter and beloved Barefoot Baby.
The bubbly orange liquid splashed on Pam, who yelled, “Party foul! You lose ten points, Amy!”
And the game they always played on Captain’s was on. The early morning sun shot dazzling sparks off of the water of the bay, seagulls screamed as they swooped overhead, and Hannah laughed until her stomach clenched in pain and she was gasping for air.
Chapter 37
Amy stood at the sink in Pam’s bathroom, lifted the beaded chain to dangle the rubber stopper over the drain and then pushing the stopper into place with her other hand. If she didn’t know this bathroom as well as her own, she would have had to spend a few minutes to complete the process, the darkness only broken by the single beam of a flashlight she’d placed on the floor of the bathroom. The bold bright light filled one corner of the small room, but did little to illuminate the sink. She could have brought one of the smaller gas lamps, but it made her nervous to walk with one when she was this tired, one stumbling step spelling disaster. Her own house down the boardwalk was filled with battery-operated lamps, nightlights, and flashlights, but Pam was a traditionalist and used only gaslight for the most part.
She grabbed the handle of the sink’s hand-pump and filled the sink with rainwater with a few strong pumps. Then she plucked up one of the shell-shaped jojoba oil soaps Pam always kept piled high in a huge abalone shell by the sink, dunked her hands in the cool water and started scrubbing. It was good that the day had been a warm one or her hands would be frozen through already.
She looked in the mirror, which was long and low enough to show her entire face. God, even in this shadowy light she looked old. Like a child who had some strange aging disease, the circles under her eyes like bruises. She always looked the worst when she was exhausted, and today had pushed her to her limits.
It had been a good day, though, a success. The pinched sad look in Hannah’s face had disappeared. They had done all of their favorite things: sailing in the bay, a jaunt in the afternoon out to the North Fork area to hit a few of the wineries there and enjoy a long leisurely lunch at a pub, and then a walk on Jones Beach, letting the still-warm waves of the Atlantic foam over their bare feet. The three women had let Hannah win their Captain’s game, giving her every point, failing to call out things that took away points. When Hannah noticed and said something, they all blamed it on old age: insisted that youth as well as skill had won in the end.
By the time they stood together in the kitchen making spaghetti for dinner, Hannah tossing the salad while the four of them sang silly faux Italian songs like “Mambo Italiano” and “That’s Amore”, Zo doing little crazy dances to make Hannah laugh, Amy knew they’d achieved part one of what they’d set out to achieve. Now, it was time for part two. Only there was one problem: Zooey.
From the minute Amy picked her up early that morning, Zo had been raring to go; convinced the time had come to tell Hannah the whole story. Amy knew that one of the reasons behi
nd this brash and dangerous decision was the lack of sleep on Zo’s part. She hadn’t slept at all. Instead of falling into bed for few hours of rest before their departure, she’d been awake and alternating being arguing with Neil about her trip to Captain’s and packing. The whole house had been lit up as if for a party when Amy pulled into her driveway at 5:00 am. Neil had followed Zooey out to the car, still arguing with her and even tried to appeal to Amy. As usual, Amy wouldn’t back down or even answer some of his more insulting insinuations. They drove away with him still standing in the driveway, fists clenched.
Another more compelling reason for Zo’s impetuous urge was Keeley’s recent MIA status. It was a situation that had gone on too long now, her decision not to talk to Hannah after that disastrous review followed by a disconnect unlike any they had ever known with Keeley. It was as if she had mailed the keys to Hannah and then washed her hands of everyone at once. Usually, Keeley was their sunshiney go-to girl, and if she was disorganized and sometimes unreliable, she was also endlessly enthusiastic, optimistic and ultimately always there when push came to shove.
Now she wasn’t even returning phone calls, which was so odd that Amy had called Ben to find out if she was okay. He had called her right back and said that, of course Keeley was fine, and what was the matter? Amy had stuttered out an embarrassed half-explanation mentioning the unreturned phone calls and hung up as soon as she could. After, she had stood in her kitchen for a long time with her hand on the receiver, staring out the window and wondering herself. What was the matter? No matter how long Amy thought about it, it didn’t add up. It was only after reading the first part of Hannah’s novel last night that she started to see an answer take shape.
Amy dried her hands on the towel hanging from a mother-of-pearl ring by the sink and tried to clear her head, prepare. She was not the touchy-feely type, yet she knew she was the best one to broach the delicate subject of Keeley and Hannah over dinner. Pam would probably burst into tears if she started telling the truth about Keeley’s childhood and Zooey, though she had agreed to wait per their original and sacred pact, was still too close to launching into a full confession for Amy’s taste. Zo was worried and protective and Amy could certainly understand that, but now was not the time, though it appeared to be close on the horizon. It was strange being the one holding the whole thing together when the pact had been created at Zo’s insistence, Amy being the dubious one all those years ago.