Return to Paradise

by Laina Villeneuve

  Lacey’s hand returned to her side, and I regretted saying as much as I had. I tried to push back tears pressing on my sinuses. Her reaction was exactly why I avoided talking to Charlie and procrastinated approaching Shawneen.

  “Pull over.” Her words surprised me. It seemed reckless on the narrow winding road. “Slow down. At the next lookout, pull over.”

  When I made no movement, she touched my knee. My leg responded, easing off the gas. I spotted the turnout ahead and pulled over onto a gravel shoulder high above the river. Lacey cut the ignition and unlatched my seat belt before doing the same to her own. She scooted closer to me and took my hands in hers. “We might have talked about other stuff as well.”

  “What? When?”

  She leaned forward and pulled the knob from the antique store out of her backpack. “I fixed this. Actually Charlie fixed it yesterday.”

  I took it from her, turning it in my hands. “It’s fixed? How do you know without the key?”

  “I…Oh. Charlie put all the pieces back together. When he said he broke it, I assumed he knew how to fix it.”

  “He broke it? I’m confused. You said he fixed it.”

  “When you were a kid, he broke it.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say. Maybe you should ask him about it. Maybe he’s got the key.”

  “Maybe.” My whole life, I’d felt the distance he put between us, a door I’d never known how to open. I dug my fingernails into my palms willing myself not to cry, but tears were already welling. The moment Lacey pulled me into her arms, they spilled over. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me as close as she could, one of her hands cradling the back of my head. I dropped the door handle onto the floorboards, so I could hang onto Lacey.

  I am not one to cry. Before I’d moved to Quincy, I couldn’t even tell you when the last time had been, but my tank was full, and I emptied it on Lacey’s shoulder.

  When I was spent, I pulled back from her but kept my face down. I didn’t want her to see my red eyes or drippy nose. She interrupted my search for a tissue and brought my eyes back to hers.

  “I don’t know what you want from Shawneen, but you deserve to be seen. It’s not right the way she overlooks you. Let me ask her to come by the house, so she knows.”

  I met her eyes, and she nodded. My breath caught and rattled out.

  “You’re making your home in Quincy. Eventually she’s going to know who you are. Why not be in control of that? The longer you wait, the harder it will be.”

  I knew that. I’d waited almost twenty years. Telling her who I was scared me, but Lacey was right. She was going to find out, and it would be easier with Lacey there. I couldn’t avoid her forever, and Lacey helped me feel strong enough to face her. I didn’t argue when Lacey said she’d drive the rest of the way. As a passenger, I could watch the trees click by and run through what I might say to Shawneen. I pictured her at Lacey’s house, the two of us under the same roof after twenty years. What do you say after all that time?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Madison

  “You are shitting me.”

  Shawneen had come straight from work, her perfume wafting into the living room before her. Lacey had asked her to come after her shift to pick up the Nova with its new tan door. Unluckily for me, she was already worked up about how it didn’t match the maroon paint.

  She slammed her fists to her hipbones and jutted her chin at Lacey doing her best to intimidate her into taking back what she’d said.

  Shawneen, I really asked you here because I wanted to introduce you to your daughter. This is Madison.

  Lacey held her ground, but under Shawneen’s intense stare, I sat down.

  “Is this your idea of a joke?”

  I couldn’t tell which one of us she was asking, but I answered. “It’s not. I used to live here with you and Charlie.”

  “Charlie,” she whispered. As if in a daze, she lowered herself to the couch next to my chair. We were all silent. I didn’t know what to do or say. I watched her face, trying to know her heart. She covered her mouth then, her eyes wide on me.

  “Maddie honey? You came to find me after all these years?”

  My eyes flicked to Lacey who immediately inclined her head toward Shawneen. This was our moment, her gesture said. I looked back to Shawneen and saw a tear slip down her cheek. She held out her arms to me, so I nodded, finally, and said yes.

  “Oh baby doll.” She dropped to her knees in front of my chair and threw her arms around me. “Sweet, sweet baby. You don’t know how many years I prayed you’d come back home to me.”

  She was right about that. I had no idea.

  “Does Charlie know you’re here? What did he tell you? What kind of poisonous things did he say for you to stay away so long?”

  “I…” Again I looked to Lacey for help. I wished I’d sat on the couch where she could sit next to me. I needed to feel her arms around me. That would have grounded me. Having Shawneen so close made me feel like I was floating outside of myself.

  Lacey came around to my chair and guided Shawneen away from me. She settled her back down on the couch and sat down next to her. The space allowed me to think more clearly.

  “I didn’t think you wanted me.”

  “Of course I wanted you, baby. A mama needs her baby girl. What did that man tell you? Because he stole you from me. He did. In the dark of night, he took you from me and left me here. I got one call. One call to tell me you were safe and better off without me, and if I ever came looking, he’d kill me.” Her words were steeped in bitterness.

  I cast back for any evidence of such violence in Charlie. I’d seen him wrangle some crazy bulls which could push the most placid person to lash out but had never seen anything but calm in him.

  “Does he know you’re here? What did you tell him?”

  “He knows I’m here. I bought a place a few months ago, the place he used to run cattle on.”

  “Did you?” Her tone changed from the rapid-fire barrage. I didn’t know her well enough to know what it meant that she slowed down. She pushed back on the sofa but sat upright. “Tell me about it.”

  “I’m fixing up the main house to rent rooms. Lacey’s been helping me find an angle to pull people in. I’m almost ready to start working on a garden.”

  “You like to garden? This is so hard. I don’t…I don’t know nothing about you.”

  “I haven’t really gardened all that much, but we…” Lacey smiled when I said we and held eye contact. My smile widened. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without her. “Lacey and I were thinking that people might find it relaxing to get their hands in the dirt and know what they’re eating came from the land they’re staying on.”

  “I wouldn’t.” Shawneen laughed raucously. “If I could afford a vacation, the last thing I’d want to do is get my hands dirty.” She held her freshly manicured hands out for us to examine. “Give me a spa treatment. Maybe a medicinal mud bath. You think about that?”

  “I hadn’t,” I admitted.

  She reached for my hand, petting it between hers. “You came home. Let me look at you.”

  I fidgeted under her attention feeling like she must be sizing up what she’d change about me. She pulled the hair I brushed to the side down on my forehead, arranging it like bangs. “I never thought your hair would be this dark. You were blond as a child. I always pictured you with long blond hair.” Her hand stopped and cupped my cheek. “You have beautiful skin. Just like me. It’s too bad you didn’t get my blue eyes. You got Charlie’s eyes for sure.”

  She said she’d pictured me. All these years she had carried a picture of me in her head. She was quiet again, and I thought about how I always found Charlie’s eyes unreadable. Shawneen apparently hadn’t been able to read them either if he’d slipped away without warning. I didn’t know whether to believe anything she was saying, but her attributing my features made me lean into her hand. No one had ever played the game of matching my fea
tures or behaviors to the family tree, and I wanted more. I yearned to be claimed.

  “So many years.”

  I nodded, and a tear slipped out. I quickly wiped it away. This was good, actually better than Lacey and I had predicted, so why was I crying? She stood, and Lacey and I followed suit.

  “Dennis will be expecting dinner, so I’ve got to go. Did you want—?”

  I cut her off. “No, thank you. I’m okay for tonight. Maybe we could have lunch tomorrow?”

  “I work afternoons the rest of the week. How about breakfast? I could come out and see the old place.”

  Having her out at the house didn’t feel right, so I suggested Lacey’s friend’s place in town. She hesitated a second before she agreed. After she’d wrapped her arms around me, she left me smelling of her perfume. Exhausted by all the emotion, I sat back down while Lacey walked Shawneen to the door.

  When she came back, Lacey sat on the arm of the chair and took my hand. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Proud? What for?”

  “You set a boundary on where to do breakfast. I speak with experience when I say boundaries are important with that woman.” She ran her hands through my fine hair, and I sighed deeply. “Wrung out?”

  “That’s exactly how I feel.” I closed my eyes and simply gave myself over to how good Lacey’s fingers felt on my scalp.

  “You stay here and let me put something together for dinner.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, feeling the tears come again. I was glad Lacey left the room before they slipped down my cheeks. In the kitchen, she moved from fridge to cupboard, knocking pots to stove, lighting the flame, all the little motions required to take care of yourself or your loved one. I tried to imagine my four-year-old self playing in the living room while Shawneen cooked supper, but came up empty.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lacey

  The next day, I drove out to Madison’s anxious to hear how things had gone with Shawneen at breakfast that morning. I’d called when I took a break for lunch, but it went to her voice mail.

  I parked at the top of the drive next to her truck. I saw Madison wave to me through the picture window in the living room, but the horse resting by the porch would have indicated her whereabouts anyway. Content to stop and run my hand along his soft coat, I stayed outside and enjoyed the show Madison provided.

  She stood on a stepladder, her head and shoulders out of sight. The picture window framed her torso and legs and the drill she had pinched between them. Though I knew it would embarrass her, I took out my phone and snapped a picture. After savoring the image for a moment, I couldn’t justify standing by and letting her work alone. I climbed the stairs and let myself in.

  “Hey,” she said around the screws in her mouth. Having finished predrilling the holes, she was outfitting the drill with a screwdriver bit. With practiced efficiency, she tightened the bit and turned to mount the wall bracket. “I’m almost finished here. Really. This is the last one.”

  “Am I far off the mark in thinking that if I didn’t come over, you would find something else to do after the curtains were up and work right through dinner?”

  “I can stop.”

  “But you’re not a clock watcher. You have no idea that I’m late and it’s past dinnertime.”

  “You’re late?” She glanced out the window instead of at a watch or clock.

  “Days are getting longer,” I reminded her. The sun isn’t setting until almost eight tonight.”

  “Sorry I lost track of time.” She glanced at the curtains she had picked up from Ruth that were draped across the back of the couch.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m happy to watch.”

  “Why does that sound dirty?” she asked, setting down her tools and picking up a rod.

  “I’ll show you later.” I met her with a curtain and held the sheer fabric while she scooted it onto the rod. With all the fabric in place, I grabbed a chair from the kitchen and helped her get them on to the newly mounted brackets. “These are awesome, Madison.”

  “Thanks! After dinner, I’ll have to send a picture to Ruth. I’m so glad she convinced me to let her make them.”

  “They’re perfect. I love the leaf pattern.”

  “Me too. Ruth said it would give more texture to the space when they’re closed, and then once I mount hooks on the side, I can easily pull them back during the day.”

  The room was dimming in the twilight. Without the curtains, the windows had been black holes. Madison turned on a lamp, and the curtains reflected the light back making the room bright and inviting.

  “But first dinner. Don’t worry. It’s quick. I have some zucchini soup, and the corn bread won’t take long at all, promise.” Madison bustled into the kitchen.

  “How did it go with Shawneen this morning?”

  She pulled a box mix out of one cupboard and a bowl from another. She was quiet for a moment. With her back to me she said, “It was fine.”

  I waited for her to say more. I wanted to know if it had been easier to talk to her mother without me there. If it had been awkward or if they’d gotten past that. “What did you talk about?”

  “Presidents,” she said, turning away from the cupboard but still not looking at me.

  “That doesn’t seem very…personal.”

  “I didn’t know if she’d be prompt, so I had the Taft/Roosevelt book with me. She asked why I was reading it.”

  “Why are you reading it?”

  “It’s really not obvious?”

  When she put it that way, I stopped to think. “It wasn’t obvious to Shawneen?”

  “No.”

  “But you think it’s obvious. Something obvious about Taft and Roosevelt.”

  “Not necessarily…”

  “No hints!” I said, wanting to do better than Shawneen. We’re talking Shawneen, here. It shouldn’t be that hard.

  “My name…”

  “Wait! Let me think!” I insisted. But I played with what she gave me. “Madison.”

  “Carter…” she added, her dark eyebrows arched high in encouragement.

  “Madison Carter,” I repeated. “Taft and Roosevelt.” She leaned forward, to encourage my train of thought. “They’re all presidents!” I shouted. Her arms shot up as if I’d scored a goal. I furrowed my brow. “Shawneen named you after President Madison?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. She named me after Madison Square Garden. When I told her that I thought I was named after the presidents and was reading the biographies from Madison to Carter, she said she should have named me Reagan and saved me the trouble of so much reading.”

  “I still don’t get why you thought you were named after the presidents.”

  My question propelled her deep into her childhood, and the smile that followed was one of the most genuinely happy I’d ever seen. “Fourth grade, I sulked into Ruth’s kitchen, and she asked me what on earth had put such an expression on my face. We’d gone over the list of presidents, and the teacher pointed out that I shared the names of both our fourth and thirty-ninth presidents. All the kids heard was that I had two last names, and they’d teased me about it the rest of the day.”

  “You like being teased?” I said perplexed.

  “No, I do not. Not in school or in more intimate situations.” She leveled her gaze at me, and I flushed realizing what I’d said. “Ruth said to ignore them and think about the honor of being named after two such important men. She sat me down with the encyclopedia and sparked my first interest in the presidents, and I still don’t know how she managed it, but that night she convinced Charlie to have dinner at the house and tell me about how he’d picked which president to use for my first name.”

  “But it wasn’t true.”

  “I didn’t know that. It gave me something to give the kids at school. He told me to fire back that Madison was the father of our constitution, that he was the very voice of our republic, and I owed it to him to use my voice to defend myself.”

  “Wow.”

 
“I know. It’s one of the few times I remember Charlie talking.”

  “Did you tell Shawneen all that?”

  Madison grew quiet again. “No. After the name fail, she said she’s not a big reader and then talked a bunch about what TV shows she and Dennis watch.”

  “I haven’t even seen a TV in your house.”

  “No, but that’s okay. She likes crime shows. I didn’t mind hearing about her favorites.”

  “Charlie seems like a big reader,” I inserted.

  “She mentioned that, too, but not in that tone.”

  “How did she say it?”

  “I don’t know, like if she had raised me, I’d be more like her, shopping on Madison Avenue maybe. She said it was wrong of him to try to raise a daughter on his own. She said there are things a girl needs to learn from her mother.”

  “You didn’t tell her about Ruth?”

  “No. I didn’t really talk that much.” She stirred the soup on the stove and peeked at the corn bread in the oven.

  I’d spent enough time with Shawneen that this didn’t surprise me. And I was gathering that Madison had a lot more patience than I did. “Aren’t there things you wanted to talk about?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is she why you wanted to buy this place?”

  She looked around with the expression she’d worn when she was first in my shop, as if the walls had answers. “I bought it because I felt like I belong. I never have before. Ruth and Bo raised me, but I didn’t belong to them. I worked for a resort for three years, but when the owner’s brother-in-law needed a job, they let me go. I’ve never had any real ties, and I thought maybe this would be where I tie myself. This town. This place.”

  “But not because Shawneen is here.”

  She took a thoughtful breath. “The way she reacted at your house when you told her? It’s what I always dreamed about, that she wanted me. But she never contacted us. I wrote her letters, but she never wrote back. Why wouldn’t she have answered them? And then at breakfast…”

  “What?”

  “I thought I was going to…feel something.”

  She sounded apologetic, and I remembered our argument about Fate. “It can’t be easy seeing each other after all these years and know how to act. It’s not like you were close and then got separated.” I could see her processing that. “Are you going to see her again?”