Dreaming August

by Terri-Lynne Defino

  “I never put it together before,” she said. “No one talks of the murder anymore, but it’s a Bitterly-thing to put shoes out on the front porch every Hunter’s Moon. That’s the full moon in October. One person a year will find something in them. Pebbles, feathers. Nothing valuable or anything. I always thought it was just a fun tradition.”

  “We Italians have a tradition of leaving shoes on the stoop at Little Christmas, so la Befana can leave presents in them.”

  Benny laughed softly. “I know the tradition. My mother’s Italian. But this is different. Only one person ever finds anything in their shoes, and I’ve heard lots of stories about parents putting stuff in their kids’ shoes only to find whatever was in there gone in the morning. I wonder if it’s Tilly.”

  “There was no such tradition while I lived in Bitterly.”

  “Well, if it came about because of her, there wouldn’t be, would there.” Benny thumbed her lip. She hadn’t thought about the Halloweeny tradition in ages. It was probably nothing. Or maybe it wasn’t. Later, she would consider how deep her nuts-o-ness went. Now, she just let it be.

  “Go home, Benedetta, before you become a story children dare one another with.”

  “I’ll go home,” she said, “because I feel better now, and I’m tired, and I still have to work in the morning. Thank you, Augie.”

  “It is my pleasure. It is good to speak with someone who is not Harriet. She can be cantankerous.”

  “Tell her hi for me, okay?”

  “I will.”

  Benny started away, then, “Can you show me where you are buried?”

  “Come back tomorrow,” he said. “I will try.”

  Nodding, she peeked out the corner of her eye. Augie? Or moonlight? Benny walked down the hill without looking back, without saying goodbye to Henny, or touching a kiss to Mrs. Farcus’ tombstone.

  * * * *

  “Well?”

  “Well what, August?”

  “You were listening. I know you were.”

  “Then why are you asking?”

  “I wasn’t asking if you were listening, Harriet, you cantankerous witch, but what you thought about what you heard.”

  “I didn’t like when you got naughty.”

  “I seem to recall being the naughty sort. I am closer to who I was in life when I am with her.”

  “Then you were no gentleman.”

  “Gentlemen don’t have as much fun, Harriet. I…I don’t quite understand what happened. I became so muddled. I didn’t even tell her why I sought her out.”

  “Do you remember why now?”

  “The promise I made to my daughter, and didn’t keep. I need Benedetta to help me keep it. Why could I not remember that, when I was with her? Why only here?”

  “Here, there is no place to hide, Augie. Back there, closer to life? People hide from the truth all the time.”

  “Like I hid my child in Italy from Katherine.”

  “There you have it. Just understand this, August. Hard as it is to hold onto a dream after waking, once you speak it aloud, there is no forgetting again.”

  “Is that what we are? Dreams?”

  “Kind of like, I ’spect.”

  “I don’t think the living have any idea how very complicated death actually is, Harriet.”

  “You got the right of it, Augie. The absolute right.”

  Chapter 5

  The Sunset Hills

  Benny checked the time again. Four o’clock. Still too early to skip out of work, even though she was finished with all Savannah asked her to do. She was actually feeling good today. No nausea at all. Her groin stitched now and again, those stretching ligaments and muscles were her newest reminder of the baby growing inside. Benny was actually looking forward to the doctor visit she had scheduled, including an ultrasound, as long as Peter let her borrow the car.

  Gardening gloves stowed in her greenhouse cubby, along with her hand-trowel and rake, she took the garden debris out to the compost barrel and gave it a spin. Savannah had been out in the store a little while ago. Maybe she needed some help. It was the least Benny could do, considering the only appointment she was able to get was for Wednesday, the one day a week Savvy took off like it was a religious holiday. Hope as she might for the secret and sexy rendezvous Savannah needed, Benny acceded to the facts. Through all the years of their friendship, the only men in Savannah’s life had been Edgardo and Raul, brothers from Ecuador and foremen at the farm. The notion of her boss and one of her foremen making her shudder and laugh at the same time, Benny almost missed spotting Dan getting out of his truck just as she turned the corner. She ducked, feeling foolish, but her heart hammered too fast to do anything but hide.

  “Good afternoon, Daniel.” Savannah’s smooth drawl carried. Benny peeked around the corner of the farmstand.

  “Afternoon, Savannah.” Dan touched his brow like the country gentleman he was. “Got any of those striped tomatoes yet?”

  “Not yet. But I do have some gold Brandywines.”

  “Sweet?”

  “Like sugar.”

  “Great, thanks. I’ll take two. Basil?”

  “Always.”

  “Now if you have some of that soft farm cheese, I’m set for dinner.”

  “Of course I do. It’s in the fridge.”

  Savannah led Dan into the store. Benny took slow, even breaths in a failed attempt to ease her heart rate. She counted to ten then made a dash for her scooter. Savannah would understand. If she knew. Which she didn’t. Benny kicked the starter.

  “No. No-no-no! Not now!” She kicked again. No hair-dryer-engine bzzzz. Dan’s deep voice rumbled in her belly, got louder. Closer. Benny gave it all she had. The engine sputtered to life. She twisted the throttle and spun gravel out of the parking lot.

  Sorry, Savvy. She threw the thought over her shoulder, but did not look back to see if they were both watching her zip away like a crazy person. Tears dried almost instantly, and Benny realized she hadn’t grabbed her helmet. Fear welled up worse than any nausea she’d felt these past months. How did she forget her helmet? Her damned helmet.

  The engine sputtered. The scooter slowed, bucked, and turned off. Benny coasted to the side of the road, put her head in her arms and sobbed. In the darkness behind her lids, the nightmare image of Henny’s broken body formed. She held onto that ghastly image until she could no longer do so without screaming.

  Benny wiped her eyes, sniffed. She unscrewed the gas cap, gave the scooter a shake. No swoosh. No gas. She almost laughed, but feared it would start her crying again. She moved the scooter farther to the side and lowered the kickstand. A vehicle pulled over. She knew who it was without looking.

  “Hey, Dan.”

  “Need some help?”

  “Out of gas. You wouldn’t have any in the truck, would you?”

  “Sorry, no. But I got some planks back there. I can get the scooter in the bed and drive you home.”

  The jaw-watering sensation that had nothing to do with her pregnancy and everything to do with the sickening feeling she would vomit any second kept her silent. She only nodded and got into the truck. He wouldn’t have let her help him anyway.

  Sunshine came through the window. Shielding her eyes, Benny lowered the visor. The mirror there reflected Dan in the truck bed. His shirt stretched taut across his broad back. Sunlight caught out the blond of his younger days, now turned a shade or two darker. He squinted against the sunlight as he struggled the scooter into the truck bed, brow furrowed. Taller than most men she knew, he was one of the few in town she didn’t tower over. Benny had liked that about him, during the week of happiness she stole from him. She liked too much about him, and that was the problem in a nutshell.

  “I only had one webbing strap,” he said as he got into the truck, “but it should be fine for the short ride to your place.”

  “Thanks.”

  He glanced up from fastening his seatbelt. “You okay? You look like
you’re going to be sick.”

  “You have that effect on me.” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a bark.

  “I figured as much, the way you been acting since Valentine’s Day.” But he smiled when he said it, and Benny felt a little better. He turned in his seat. “Listen, Benny, it didn’t work out. I won’t say it didn’t break my ornery old heart a bit, but I been alone a long time. Probably always will be. We were friends a long time before we were anything else. Can’t we be again?”

  Benny’s shoulders slumped. Her head told her to tell him. Now was the perfect time. Her throat and tongue and mouth had other ideas. Again, she nodded. He waited then, letting go a deep and exasperated breath, Dan turned over the engine and pulled back onto the road.

  The drive into town was silent, and only when they passed the cemetery did Benny remember Augie’s request for her return. In truth, she didn’t have it in her. All she wanted was her stuffy apartment, a shower, and the television remote.

  Dan turned into her driveway and pulled around back, hopped out of the truck and rolled her scooter from the bed. Benny made a half-hearted attempt to help him but he waved her away. He wheeled it into the space under the steps as if he knew exactly where she kept it, as of course he did, because she had told him the night of their carriage ride, and Dan Greene remembered.

  “You have a can? I’ll pick up some gas for you.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I keep a full can in the shed. The scooter gets such good gas mileage I forget it ever needs to be filled.”

  “It’s not a bad problem to have.” He jutted his thumb at his truck. “That thing guzzles gas like a frat-boy at a kegger.”

  Benny smiled, but she didn’t laugh. Dan’s smile faded. He looked down at his hands, fingers spread wide, then turned them over. The backs were freckled, his arms covered in fine, blond hair, so pale in the sunshine. A momentary and quickly suppressed sensation of those arms around her, pulling her close, made her take a step back. He reached out as if to catch her, but Benny put up her hands.

  “What did I do, Ben?” he asked so softly. “Whatever it was, I didn’t mean it.”

  “I have to go inside,” Benny turned away but he caught her hand. She stared at it. The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I’m seeing someone.”

  “Oh.”

  “His name is…is August. I only met him recently.”

  “I see.” He still had her hand. Benny wanted to take the words back. She wanted to so badly.

  “Dan, I—”

  “Forget it,” he said, letting go her hand and taking a step back. “It was…I was…anyway.”

  “Yoohoo, Daniel!”

  Clarice Grady stepped onto the porch landing, her gaze going from one to the other and her face instantly brightening.

  “What brings you here on this lovely day?”

  Benny rolled her eyes.

  “Hello, Mrs. Grady. Just helping Benny. She ran out of gas.”

  “Benedetta, that blasted scooter again?”

  “I ran out of gas, Ma. It happens.”

  “Since you’re here, Daniel, I’m RSVPing to Mabel’s graduation party.” Clarice’s gaze flicked to Benny. “We’ll be there. All of—”

  “I’m going up,” she cut in. “Dan, thanks for the lift.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, far more softly than he should have in Clarice’s hearing. Benny hurried up the back steps, slamming the door a little too hard. Her mother would invite Dan to dinner. He would refuse, of course, especially after the lie she told, but what if he didn’t? She yanked open the refrigerator door, unsurprised by the cold air and a lot of nothing blasting her in the face, and closed it again. When had she actually gone grocery shopping last? Thirty-six years old and she still ate most of her suppers with her family downstairs in the kitchen she’d been eating meals in most of her life. When she and Henny shared this space, she cooked like her mama cooked and loved doing it. Benny shopped—always local—and made everything from scratch. It was her joy, not her chore. Henny died and took that joy from her too.

  “Damn you,” she grumbled. “Damn you and what you did to me. To my life. How could you?”

  A knock lifted her head. Clarice waved from the half-glass door. Benny let her in.

  “It’s not locked.”

  “I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “You?” Benny chuckled. She kissed her cheek. “What’s up, Ma?”

  Clarice stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind her. She pushed a stray curl from her forehead. “Daniel went home,” she said.

  “Okay. And?”

  “And?” Clarice fumbled, her color rising. “What’s going on with you two, sweetheart? You seemed to have a good time together last winter. The carriage ride and—”

  “I don’t want to talk about Dan.”

  “Is it Henny?”

  “I don’t want to talk about him either. Just let it go, Ma. This is my mess to figure out.”

  Clarice cocked her head. “Mess?”

  Benny closed her eyes, gritted her teeth. “I said let it go. I mean it.”

  The couch in her small sitting room beckoned. Benny flopped into it and clicked the television on. Flip, flip, flip. Nothing but news, kiddie-tv and old sitcoms. Her mother sat down beside her. She said nothing, only took Benny’s hand and traced her knuckles. A familiar touch, one tugging at the bindings trussing Benny up. Loosening them. Without meaning to, Benny slumped into her mother, rested her head to her soft shoulder, and wept.

  “You just cry, baby,” Clarice smoothed her hair. “Just cry.”

  Benny let go. It felt good to be held like a little girl crying tears over nothing more dire than a lost plaything or a tiff with a school friend. Her mother stroked her hair, whispered soothing sounds. She asked no questions and offered no advice, and for this, Benny loved her so much.

  “I’m tired of being sad,” she said finally.

  “It has been too long, Benny. It’s time to let him go. To be happy again.”

  Benny sat up. She took the crumpled tissue her mother handed her and blew her nose. “I know,” she said. “But it makes me feel so horrible to even consider being happy. I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Can I ask you a question you’re not going to like?”

  “Is it about Dan?”

  Clarice nodded.

  “Fine, Ma. Ask.”

  “Did he make you happy, last winter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, baby.” Clarice rose to her feet, kissed her daughter’s head. “You coming down to dinner? I’m making pork chops.”

  Benny wiped her nose again, cocked her head. “That’s it?”

  “Roasted potatoes, too. And green beans. They aren’t as wonderful as the ones Savannah will have in—”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  Her mother smiled, thumbed a tear from Benny’s cheek. “I know, sweetheart. Dinner’s at six thirty.”

  Her mother left her sitting alone and stunned. Disbelief and relief vied for first place in Benny’s head. She dabbed her face dry, tried blowing her nose on the tissue one time too many and ended up a mess. Washing her hands, she smiled wryly. Between a ghost chatting her up and her mother keeping her thoughts to herself, the ghost was far, far less strange.

  * * * *

  He tried being angry, the whole ride driving home. Dan Greene was sorry. Sorry Benny’s grief was still so raw. Sorry he’d moved too fast. Sorry she—they all—lost Henny, period. He couldn’t go past the place where his friend died without getting choked up. Being a first responder on the scene had been the stuff of nightmares, the kind that often appeared in his sleep. It was nothing short of miraculous Benny hadn’t seen her husband twisted and bloody and broken. Her scooter usually kept her to the confines of Bitterly, but she had gone to a baby shower in Great Barrington. An old high school friend, if he remembered right. By the time he, Tim an
d Charlie took her to the site, the clean-up crew had done a good job of clearing it all away. Someone left a bouquet tied to a tree. He remembered Benny taking it down, picking out the dead flowers and bringing the rest home.

  Henderson Parker Fredricks, you moron. You stupid, careless moron. How could you do that to her? To all of us? Idiot.

  Henny, Tim, Charlie and Dan. The wild one, the jock, the nice guy, and the comedian. Best buds. Dan couldn’t remember a time they’d not been friends, and always figured it started in kindergarten. At Henny’s funeral, he learned it went even further back, almost to the womb and the momentarily trendy “Expecting Club” their mothers had been members of. They were boys born and raised in Bitterly. Men who never left. Until Tim, after Henny died and proved there was no such thing as ‘all the time in the world.’

  Instead of passing by the cemetery, Dan pulled in. He hadn’t been there since the February prior. Valentine’s Day, in fact. Finding Henny’s grave was easy enough. Benny made it so.

  He spotted the matching gardens—Henny’s, and the woman whose name he never remembered. It always made him smile to recall the goth phase Benny went through, believing she had a connection to the woman resting there more than a hundred years. Tim teased her mercilessly back then. Benny never got angry or upset. Their bond and understanding was that absolute. Tight as he and Evelyn were since their parents’ deaths, it wasn’t anything like Tim and Benny. There were years when Dan would have gladly not seen his sister for more than the holidays, like most of those years during her marriage to Paul.

  He trudged up the hill, squatted at the garden-graveside. He traced the letters on the stone, as if it would somehow conjure Henny from the dead. Benny would have the words to say, brought back from those teen years of pagan rituals she had been so serious about. He wondered if she’d tried them after Henny died, for old-time’s sake. Or desperation.

  “Remember when we were kids?” he asked the air. “And Tim dared you to kiss his sister. I thought it was a bad idea. So did Charlie. I think Tim must have known what he was doing though, considering how he was with her. You remember. He could tease her all he wanted but anyone else who did paid the price.”