Patchwork Family

by Bonnie Tharp

  I certainly dress like an old lady. I’d better rethink my fashion statement if I don’t want to feel a thousand years old and look that way, too.

  With a quick knock, Marvel opened the door, motioning for Annabelle to enter then clicked it shut behind her.

  “Annabelle!” Sam met her at the door, enveloping her in a huge bear hug. “How nice of you to drop by.” He looked closely into her face then led her to one of the leather visitor chairs in front of a massive cherry wood desk. “Have a seat. Would you like a glass of water? You look a little flushed.”

  Giving her lip a quick pat with her ever-present tissue, Annabelle smiled. “That would be nice, thank you.”

  Walking to the credenza where a silver coffee service and crystal pitcher of water perched, he poured her a glass, returning to sit in the visitor chair across from the one Annabelle now occupied. “Here you go. Now tell me, what’s up? You weren’t just in the neighborhood, were you? Are the kids okay?”

  She hesitated. “The kids are fine, but I’m not. I haven’t been feeling well, so I went to see the doctor. He says my heart is in bad shape. I’m supposed to talk with a cardiologist tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Annabelle.” He clasped her hands in his. “I’m sorry. What can I do to help? Do you want me to talk with Regina?”

  “No. Not yet, anyway.” Her tissue was now a twisted rope around her fingers. “What I want is a will. The kids have to be taken care of legally.”

  He sat back in the chair, pulling a pen from his pocket and a pad from the top of his desk. “Don’t worry, we’ll work something out to take care of the kids.”

  “It has to be Regina. She’s the only family they have left.” Annabelle’s hand shook as she took a drink.

  Scrubbing through his thick white hair, Sam said, “Have you talked with her about this?”

  “There hasn’t been time.”

  “What about right now?” He reached over to get the receiver.

  “No. I think she’s painting. Sam, there isn’t anyone else. Regina’s strong enough to protect the kids. It’s got to be her. But, I can’t face her right now.”

  “What about their father? He’s still living, isn’t he?”

  “Tom’s been gone ten years. Why would he come back after this long?” Tears slipped down Annabelle’s cheeks.

  “I’m not sure I should be doing this. It could be a conflict of interest, especially considering my relationship with Regina. I’ll recommend someone else to you.”

  Annabelle tried to stem the flow with her already soggy tissue.

  They can’t tell you no if it’s already done.

  “Please, won’t you draw something up right away? I’ll call Regina, I promise.”

  “Surely you can wait a couple of days? Talk to the cardiologist. See what he has to say. I’ll call Bob Schultz, he’s a good friend of mine. He’ll help you draw up a Power of Attorney with an Appointment of Guardian.” Sam patted her clutched fingers.

  “But he’s not family like you are, Sam. I’m afraid to wait. Please do this for me. If the doctor says it’s a false alarm, we can talk to this Schultz fellow. I’ll call Regina, but in the mean time I want to make sure the kids are protected.” She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “Please.”

  With a sigh, Sam squeezed her hands. He walked around the desk and sat, pulling a form from one of the bottom drawers. He began writing then lifted his head to look her in the eye. “Are you sure you can’t wait?”

  “No. Now, please,” she whispered.

  You’ve really worked yourself into a tizzy. Now calm down before you scare the man to death. You aren’t dead yet.

  He put his pen to the paper, filled out the requisite information then pushed it across the desk toward her. “This is a basic Power of Attorney, which stipulates that if anything should prevent you from functioning to full capacity, Regina Morgan-Smith will be appointed as attorney and for the care of Peggy, Tad and Megan Malone.”

  “Fine.” Annabelle glanced over the form. “Where do I sign?”

  He picked up the phone and hit a number on the keypad. “Marvel, please come into my office to witness a signature. Bring Jim, the file clerk, will you?” He held Annabelle’s gaze for a moment until she dropped her eyes to her lap.

  “As soon as Marvel and Jim come in, you can sign at the bottom. Then they’ll sign it.”

  The door opened to admit the frowning receptionist and a strapping young man. They stepped up beside the desk, watched as Annabelle signed the document and slid it over to them.

  Marvel sniffed, signing with a stiff hand. Annabelle then handed it to Sam who added his signature. “Thank you, Marvel and Jim, that will be all.”

  Waiting until they were alone again, Sam and Annabelle stared at each other.

  She stuffed her tissue in her purse. “Thank you.”

  “You know, if your heart doesn’t kill you, Regina will.”

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve put you into a bad position. I’ll explain it all to her later, I promise.”

  “It’ll be okay, don’t worry. Go home and rest. Make sure to give Regina a call today.” He stood, offering her his hand. “Do you need us to change our plans for the weekend?”

  She allowed him to help her stand. “I’m probably being overly dramatic. The kids would love to see your dog. Please don’t let my paranoia ruin your weekend.”

  Giving her hand an affectionate squeeze, he said, “If you’re sure. We’ll be over Friday to drop off Sugar. But if anything changes, let us know.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled up at his warm face. “I forgot to ask, what are you two planning?”

  “We’re heading to Kansas City for a stage play and there’s an exhibition at the Nelson-Atkins Art Gallery we plan to see.”

  “Sounds nice. Thanks, I feel better just knowing the kids are taken care of.”

  He dipped his head in a slight bow. “Everything will be fine.”

  “Bye.” Annabelle exited the office.

  Once outside she took a deep breath, squinting into the sun. “He’s a good man.” She walked down the street to her car, slid in behind the wheel and pressed a fist into her chest. “Hang in there, goof ball. You’ll have an anxiety attack if you don’t calm down.”

  On the drive home she noticed the time on the bank sign. She had an hour to rest before the kids got home from school. Leaving the car in the driveway, she mounted the front steps, her keys already in hand. The phone rang. She unlocked the door, leaving it open as she dashed for the extension in the parlor.

  “Heh . . . low,” she panted.

  “Hello,” a deep male voice responded. “Is this Mrs. Annabelle Hubbard?”

  She gulped for air thinking he sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place the voice.

  “Mrs. Hubbard?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “This is Assistant Principal Johnston, from the high school.”

  The hairs rose on Annabelle’s arms. “Is Peggy okay?”

  “I’m afraid Peggy has been skipping classes.”

  “What?” Annabelle sank down onto the sofa. “Do you know where she went? Or who she was with?”

  “She’s in my office now with Miles Asher. They will both have to serve detention either before or after school. I recall from last year that there was some trouble at home and she rides the bus. Would you be able to come into my office tomorrow so we can discuss a detention schedule?”

  “Of course, what time?”

  “Would ten o’clock work for you?”

  “Fine, thank you for calling.” She hung up the phone, sighing.

  What is Peggy thinking? What is she doing with Miles? What in the world is going on with that girl?

  The phone rang again and she jumped, fumblin
g for the receiver.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello.” A raspy male voice responded. “Is this Mother Annabelle?”

  “Pardon?”

  Two strange men calling in one day is quite a record.

  He cleared his throat. “Is this Annabelle Hubbard?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “Don’t you recognize my voice? It’s your son-in-law, Tom.”

  Sweat broke out on her brow. “Tom?”

  “That’s right. I’m sorry I haven’t called sooner. I just heard that Liddy died. Are the kids okay?”

  “They’re fine.” Annabelle laid her head back. She pictured him in her mind. Tall, thin but muscular, his brown hair thick and his gray eyes the color of storm clouds. “What do you want?”

  “I want to see my kids.”

  “They’ve gotten along fine without you for ten years.” Annabelle ground her teeth together. “What do you really want?”

  “They’re my kids.” Tom sighed. “Didn’t you get my letters?”

  “What letters?”

  “Huh. Well, I wrote a dozen times at least.”

  Her head began to ache and an invisible hippo just settled on her chest. “We never got them. Where have you been?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

  “Oh, man. To hell and back is the best way to describe it.”

  “And why are you here now? It’s been years. The kids are doing good—your returning will just confuse them.”

  Her imagination began running wild. She couldn’t let him get his hands on the children. Megan didn’t even know him and was beginning to blossom. Tad would be vulnerable to whatever this loser would expose him to. Peggy was just discovering herself. Granted she was on the verge of discovering the power of her sexuality, but Tom would probably—she really had no idea what he would do or not do.

  “I’m the kids’ legal guardian, Tom. You can’t have them. It’s not enough to just make the babies. Go away.” Annabelle dropped the receiver into the cradle.

  Lord, her head was splitting. She hurt all over. Sliding down on the sofa, she tried to calm her breathing. Leaning on one elbow, Annabelle reached for the phone. Her fingers remembered Tillie’s number.

  “Hey, there,” Tillie said.

  Annabelle gasped and the receiver toppled to the floor. The heel of her hand pressed on her chest to hold her heart in. The last thing she heard over the pounding of her heart was Tillie’s voice calling her name before everything went black.

  Chapter 5

  PEGGY MET TAD as he jumped off the bus at the corner of Riverside Drive near the park. The pear trees had bloomed out and now were turning green. The tiny white petals littered the ground like flattened snowflakes.

  “Are you crazy?” Tad asked his older sister.

  “About what?” His tone startled her.

  “Letting Miles leave a mark on your neck.”

  She pulled her hair forward to cover the fading hickey.

  “I didn’t know he was leaving a mark. Jeez, Tad, you’re not that much younger than me. Haven’t you ever kissed a girl and gotten carried away?” They walked down the sidewalk toward the three-story Victorian they called home.

  “I never tried to suck her blood through her skin! Besides, it’s none of your business what I’ve done or not done. You’re not my mom.” He stepped off of the sidewalk, putting more space between them.

  “I’m the oldest. I’m supposed to keep you out of trouble,” Peggy said, straightening her shoulders.

  “I’m not the one with a purple neck or the one who needs a keeper. Maybe Butch “the Bruiser” Butkas can be your body-guard.” His grin troubled his sister.

  Their long legs ate up the length of the sidewalk, bringing them to the front porch.

  “Don’t you dare say anything to Butch. He’s a lunatic. Just drop it, please. I’ll be more careful.” Her finger made an “X” across her chest. “Promise. Besides, right now that’s the least of my problems.”

  “What did you do now?”

  “I got caught skipping today. The AP called Gram.” He didn’t need to know who she’d been with.

  “Oh, man, you do need a keeper. Were you with Miles?”

  She looked at her feet. “Yeah.”

  “Idiot.” He shook his head.

  They mounted the steps to find their neighbor and friend, Joe Linden, sitting alone on the porch swing in the shadows. Although retired from the Air Force, he was still fit, wearing his gray hair cut short.

  “Hiya, Joe,” Tad said. “You lost?”

  He stopped the swing, but remained seated. The grim look on Joe’s handsome face penetrated Peggy’s self-absorption.

  “Where’s Tillie? What’s wrong?” Peggy threw open the door. “Gram? Gram! We’re home.” She dashed inside, her panicked voice seeming to echo off of the walls. She stopped to listen for a response, hearing her brother’s words instead.

  “What’s going on?”

  Joe rose from the creaky swing. “Let’s go get your sister.”

  The man and boy stepped inside and met Peggy at the bottom of the staircase.

  Her cheeks were hot, her skin moist with perspiration. “What’s happened?”

  “Let’s go into the living room for a minute,” Joe said.

  “NO! Tell us what’s wrong!” Peggy began to sweat even more.

  I didn’t mean to get into trouble. Could Gram have gotten mad enough to leave?

  “Your grandmother’s had a heart attack. She’s at Via Christ St. Francis.”

  Collapsing at the bottom of the stairs, Peggy sobbed. “Is she . . . dead?”

  We’ve already lost our mom. Dad’s been MIA for a decade. We can’t lose Gram now, too.

  “No, but she’s in critical condition,” Joe said.

  “Can we go to her?” Tad asked.

  “Not quite yet. Let’s let the doctors do their jobs. We’ll go to see her when she’s stable.” Joe squeezed Tad’s shoulder.

  Using his sleeve, Tad wiped the silent tears that fell.

  They all turned when they heard footsteps on the porch.

  “Megan.” Peggy stood, brushed the tears off of her cheeks, and straightened her t-shirt.

  Their little sister’s smile faded as she stepped into the foyer. “What’s going on?” Her brown eyes were huge in her small round face.

  Joe squatted down in front of her, holding her cool hand in his. “Your Gram is sick.”

  “Is she in the hospital?” Megan asked.

  “Yes. Tillie is with her.”

  Withdrawing her hand, Megan walked into the room, hung her backpack on the newel post and sat on the bottom step. Peggy and Tad sat down on either side of her, like bookends. They put their arms around her. Megan’s solemn face was devoid of tears.

  Peggy smoothed her little sister’s brown hair.

  “Will you take us to see her?” Megan asked.

  “I don’t think they’ll let us see her for a while,” Joe said.

  Her eyes glistened, but no tears fell. “We need to be there. Before it’s too late.”

  “She’ll be okay.” Tad patted her knee. “She’s a tough lady.”

  “Yeah, she’s handled tougher stuff than this.” Peggy spoke with a confidence she didn’t feel.

  Megan slipped her hand into Joe’s. “Please take us now, Uncle Joe. She needs us.”

  Picking her up into a big hug, Joe blinked back tears. “Okay, sweetie, we’ll go, but they might not let us see her for a little while.”

  Following them out of the house, Peggy locked the front door. She wiped her eyes, stomping down the porch stairs to cross the street.

  All we’ve ever been able to count on is each other and Gram. What will happen to us now?

/>   “Life sucks.” Tad kicked a stone from his path before sliding into the front passenger seat of Joe’s SUV.

  “Did someone call Regina?” Peggy asked.

  “I’m pretty sure Tillie did, honey. She’ll probably meet us at the hospital.”

  Megan squirmed in the back seat. “I forgot to check on Ms. Pickles.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Joe said.

  Her hands clasped in her lap, Megan said, “She’ll be worried about Gram, too.”

  Peggy and Tad exchanged a glance.

  Questions filled Peggy’s mind.

  What did their little sister really understand? Was she so close to their Gram that she could feel their grandmother’s pain? That was too weird to even think about.

  Joe looked into the rearview mirror. “Try not to worry.”

  “Yeah, right.” Tad slapped the front seat. “It’s probably that hickey that broke her heart.”

  “Shut up, Tad,” Peggy said, anger building.

  “Hickey?” Joe glanced at the older kids.

  “What’s a hickey?” Megan asked.

  “Oh, God.” Peggy covered her face with her hands, her purple nail polish stark against the white skin of her fingers.

  “What’s a hickey?” Megan asked again.

  Joe cleared his throat. “It’s kind of a bruise.”

  “Oh. That doesn’t make any sense. How can Peggy’s bruise hurt Gram’s heart?”

  Tad’s head snapped around as he stared at his baby sister, “You don’t make sense, either.”

  “Leave Megan alone.” Peggy was glad the focus had shifted from her.

  Megan sniffed back tears.

  Putting his head down, Tad moaned. “They’re both crazy.”

  “Everyone’s just upset,” Joe said. “We’ll find out what happened when we talk with the doctor.”

  They rode the last few minutes in silence. When Joe pulled into the emergency room parking lot, Tad jumped out, dashing through the sliding glass doors. By the time the girls and Joe arrived, Tad sat in a waiting room chair beside Tillie, sulking.