by Molly Greene
“Lovely,” Ryan said. “May I help?”
“Your mission is to sit right here and entertain the patient. She’s only had me to talk to for days, and my conversational skills are limited.”
“I’ll regale her with harrowing stories about my exciting experiences overseeing a church retreat. But first, let me carry this for you. It’s heavy. The price of guilt.”
Madison heard Gen’s laughter at her back as Ryan lifted the basket and led the way, pushing through the door into the kitchen.
* * *
“Did you notice?” Excitement shimmered in Gen’s voice. “He didn’t seem surprised to see me. He didn’t check the place out the way people do when they’re in an unfamiliar room. It was like he already knew I was here and what the inside of the place looked like. Did you see how he led the way into the kitchen? He knew where it was. But when we were talking, he told me he’d been at the retreat for less than a year. So how does he know the layout of the house?”
“Maybe he snuck in the same way I did,” Madison replied. “And we already know he can see us from up there on the hill, although he’d probably need binoculars. I thought you liked him? You were all smiles and charm and stuff. I saw you flirting.”
“Oh, he was wonderful. Very attentive. The Welcome Wagon bit was considerate. His accent is charming. Smart. Nice dry wit. Athletic, too, you know I love that. I found myself wondering if he’s celibate. But I think he was playing me. Too interested, you know?”
“He’s Protestant, Gen. Protestant ministers can have sex. Apparently God doesn’t frown on it.” Madison’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “And I have to admit, without his collar he didn’t appear all that … born again.”
Gen ignored her. “What a coincidence that he’s Irish, too, like Mallory. Sonoma County isn’t such a big draw for Irish immigrants, it’s not like they’re world famous winemakers. Those boys are all about their beer.”
“Maybe,” Madison agreed half-heartedly. “Did he tell you what he does next door?”
“He manages the business side, scheduling and staff and finances. Organizes events. Raises funds.”
“Well, I can see the charming fundraiser side of him.”
“But he only made one reference to God the whole time he was here. As he would say, curious for a man of the cloth.”
“So what do you think?”
“I don’t know. I just picked up on a couple of unusual behaviors. I’ve been trained to evaluate juries, you know. I notice things.”
“Then why didn’t you notice the right way to jump off the ski lift?”
Gen threw a pillow. It sailed straight for her and Madison ducked, then went on as though nothing had happened. “Can you make it through a day without me? Christmas will be here before we know it. I need to shop. And believe it or not, I’m in the mood for some new clothes.”
Gen’s eyes grew wide as dish plates. She choked and clutched at her throat. She continued the theatrics for several drama-filled seconds, then dropped the act. “What brought this on? Not that I’m not pleased at the possibility of seeing you in something other than sweats. I’ve been thinking about calling Stacy and Clinton on ‘What Not to Wear’ and begging them to put you on the show.”
Madison ignored her. “Make a list if you want anything.”
“Really, it’s long overdue,” Gen continued. “You never spend any money on yourself. It’s about time you looked like a girl.”
Madison covered her ears and sang, “La la la la la la la la.”
Gen tried to pull Madison’s fingers away from her face. “OK, I’ll drop it. Anyway, I’ll be doing most of my Christmas shopping online. So use the day for yourself. But I’m still trying to get my head around the fact you want to buy new clothes. Must have something to do with how thin you’ve gotten. Maybe skinny and lonesome?”
This time the pillow was aimed for Genevieve’s chest, and it was right on target.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Madison was just reaching toward the closed door when the stair below the landing squeaked like one of Jack’s most annoying toys. She jumped, thinking she’d stepped on something she shouldn’t have, and dropped a bucket of dust cloths. The pail clattered against the wall, spilling its contents. She cursed and bent to gather them up.
“What was that?” Anna called from below.
“Creaky stair,” Madison replied. “Creeped me out. Too many monster movies.”
She turned the handle. The door glided inward and she followed it inside, feeling along the wall for the switch plate. She flicked on the light. Clearly this room had been Edward’s office.
Glass-fronted cabinets held shelf after shelf of books. Nests and eggs and stuffed birds and tiny, preserved skeletons were placed among them, all carefully labeled. Although the insidious dust had wheedled its way in, the spiders had been kept at bay. Not a single daddy long-legs in sight.
“You won’t believe it,” Madison said.
Anna took the stairs two at a time, missing the squeaker. She stopped in the doorway, one hand on each side of the frame, and let out a slow whistle.
“He was passionate about his job, wasn’t he?” Madison smiled.
“Same as you with a new project,” Anna replied.
Madison moved to the desk and turned on the lamp. The curtains were dingy. The blackout shades beneath them were grimy.
“Looks like Janice didn’t come up here.” Madison raised the blinds, then cracked open a window to revive the stale air. The clatter of a hundred pairs of beating wings echoed around them.
Madison ducked and covered her head.
Anna backed out of the room, pressing herself against the wall on the landing. “Is it bats?” she shrieked. “Are they in there with you?”
The sound receded. Madison lowered her arms and peered out the glass. A flock of pigeons soared away, winging toward the lake. The snap of the rising transom must have disturbed them.
“No,” she murmured. “Birds.”
“It sounded like a stampede.” Anna went straight across the room and released a cabinet latch. Rows of leather-bound journals stood like uniformed soldiers across the inner shelves. They were labeled by year. The first read 1938.
Madison tipped one out and thumbed through it. The pages were covered with printing and sketches of beaks and wings. Several entries were blotched, stained with water marks that obliterated the ink. “I bet these will hold Gen’s attention. I can see her trying to decode this stuff.”
Anna nodded. “It must be hard to sit around all day.”
“She’s antsy.”
“How are you really doing? You, I mean. Any more visitors?”
Madison didn’t answer.
“What happened?”
“A few weeks ago, another stranger,” Madison admitted. “On the slope in the fog. Then right before Gen moved in he came to the house but ran away when I asked what he wanted. ”
Anna looked worried. “Skeleton Man?”
“No.” Madison shrugged. “This one was thinner, taller, wavy hair. This place is a magnet. Janice and her boyfriend dropped by, and the chaplain I met the first day brought wine.”
“The rude minister?” Anna slung her arm around Madison’s shoulder. “You need some muscle. Good thing Gen is around.”
“What’s up?” Genny whined. They could hear her maneuver her wheelchair close to the bottom step.
“Get out of the garage,” Madison said sternly. “You’re supposed to be in the sunshine, invalid.”
“I can hear you whispering about me,” Genny called.
“We’re talking about what a pain in the ass you are.” Madison put the journal aside and pulled out several more, then closed the cupboard and moved to another. These shelves were filled with books about migration, nests and nest building, and were rich with full-color photographs.
“What else is new?” Genevieve said.
“Wait till you see what we’re bringing you,” Anna replied. She yanked on the latch of the center cabin
et, then pulled the handle. Yet another access was revealed at the back. “Look Mad, a double door.” She released the second with a quick flip of the bolt and they squinted at the influx of light.
Another chamber.
This one was a dovecote.
The outer end of the aviary was disguised by a slatted vent in the roof that was open to the elements. Slits of sun and sky were visible beyond. Dust swirled through the air.
The food and water dishes were empty.
“Don’t tell me those pigeons still live here after all these years,” Madison drummed her nails against the cabinetry. “Gen will be miffed. Another puzzle she can’t climb the stairs to investigate. We better not tell her until she can see for herself.”
* * *
Genevieve sighed and rolled away from the stairwell. “Come on, Jackie,” she said. “Let’s go get a little sun on our faces.” She rolled toward the door and picked through the mishmash on her way. The place was a jumble of old doors, tabletops, and broken kitchen chairs.
The Blackburnes were hoarders.
She didn’t understand the need to keep things. She imagined it was a pitfall of living in one house for decades. While the salvaged swag increased at a pace equal with one’s good intentions, time did not.
She hesitated before a wall covered with boxes. According to the neat script lettered on each front panel, the cartons were full of National Geographic magazines dating back to the 1940’s.
They’d never lack reading material.
When the dog whimpered behind her, she turned to find him scratching at Mallory’s mattress. The boys had rested it on a padded tarp against the wall the day they moved Madison in.
“What is it, boy?”
He growled and pawed at the cloth. She wheeled around and joined him, pulling at the tarp with one hand. The mattress moved enough to reveal a recessed doorway behind it in the shadows.
“Anna, Mad, come here. Quick. I need help.”
They clattered down the stairs and rounded the corner, each balancing an armload.
“Help me move this.”
“Are these commands never-ending?” Anna asked.
“Life has become a series of instructions.” Madison unloaded her burden on the work table.
“Do as I ask, please. Have you been back here, Mad?”
“No, I haven’t spent much time in the garage. As you can see, the place is piled with stuff and creep-crawlies are everywhere. What did you find?”
“Another room.”
Gen watched as they used the tarp to drag the heavy bedding aside. She forced her chair in and tugged at the knob. After several attempts, she wrenched it free of its sticky threshold. She flicked on the light and rolled into a small chamber.
Madison and Anna pushed in behind.
“Why is this room clean?” Anna asked. “It’s a nightmare upstairs.”
“Maybe Janice liked it in here,” Gen replied.
A daybed covered with an old handmade crazy quilt was pushed against the wall. A wood cross hung above it. Genny pushed over to the nightstand and picked up a photo of a woman. Perched on the rock wall beside her was a child, reaching out as if begging the photographer to drop the camera and hold her. Their clothing was plain. The setting was austere. The woman looked troubled.
She flipped the photo over. Someone had penciled “DAMN YOU DAD” in block letters on the back. Gen felt a heart-piercing shaft of pain shoot across the decades. This time, the hurt had nothing to do with her leg.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Madison, check this out. Looks like it was Edward who wrote the journals. From what I can make out, he’s somewhere in the boondocks watching loons come and go. But he’s making vague references that must be about a woman. And he’s penned in a poem. I’ve read it before, but I can’t remember the author.”
Madison walked to the couch and took the journal Gen was holding out. She read aloud.
All the breath and the bloom of the year
in the bag of one bee
All the wonder and wealth of the mine
in the heart of one gem
In the core of one pearl all the shade
and the shine of the sea
Breath and bloom, shade and shine, wonder, wealth,
and how far above them
Truth that’s brighter than gem
Trust that’s purer than pearl,
Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe
all were for me
In the kiss of one girl.
“Robert Browning,” Madison said. “That’s one of my favorite poems ever. Edward must have been a good man.” She handed the book back. “Do you think it’s about Mallory?”
“I don’t know. He’s writing about ‘The Spit,’ and Finnish sailors, and isolation. It’s not Ireland. It seems like if Mallory had been with him, her name would show up. Maybe he’s remembering someone else.”
“Or writing about the girl he’s wishing for.”
“Maybe.” Gen put the journal aside and made notes on a legal pad. She lingered for a moment, quiet, then dropped the pen and took in some air. “Do you ever wish a good man was writing about you?”
“Not the writing part, but I have been thinking about men lately. As in companionship.”
“Just thinking about it won’t get you anywhere.” Gen watched her friend.
“The fact that my thoughts have gone there at all is a big step.”
“True.” Gen leaned back against the pillows. “Why do you suppose that is? That you haven’t let yourself think those thoughts.”
“I’ve been wondering about that, too. I decided it’s because my world works the way it is. I can manage this way. What if I love someone and they don’t feel the same? I might not be able to get back to where I’m okay alone. I might not be able to function as a single serving anymore. That’s hard to face.”
Gen felt her heart constrict. “You’ll never be alone, Mad. Whatever happens, you have us.”
“Exactly.” Madison leaned over to pat her shoulder.
Gen grasped her hand.
“Your mother would want you to try. She’d want you to keep looking until you found a good man. An Edward, or a John Boone. She’d want you to feel what she felt for your dad.”
Madison nodded. “Yes, she would.” She squeezed Gen’s fingers and turned away.
Gen let her go.
* * *
Madison sat on the bed combing her hair and thinking about her conversation with Gen.
For the first time in ages, her heart was considering the possibility of more. Something was stirring. She was ready to move forward.
She felt as if she could choose her current path and end up an old woman with cats, or pick another road and live in a house filled with laughter and a loving husband.
She wondered how it would feel to let a man in.
Mallory’s blank book caught her eye. Madison put down the comb and opened the volume. She turned on the lamp and stacked the pillows against the headboard, leaned against them, and stretched out with the book in her lap. She picked up a pen and clicked it open and closed, staring at the page.
Then she put pen to paper, recorded the date, and began to write.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Madison found a parking place in the near capacity guest lot across from the University. She set the brake, grabbed her purse, and hopped out of the 4Runner, then set off in her new high-heeled leather boots. Her new jacket hung open just enough to reveal fitted jeans and a topaz turtleneck beneath.
Anna, striking as a model and older than the twenty-somethings around her, was easy to spot. She looked at ease with a backpack and a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. When she saw Madison, she waved goodbye to her friends and came to meet her.
They hugged. “You look tres chic,” Madison said.
“I could say the same about you,” Anna replied. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“Work day today.”
“Oh, not just a soci
al call, then. How’s our girl?”
“Tired, but good. She’s walking on crutches. She’s got things to do, reviewing briefs and reading and TV. Edward’s stuff has caught her interest, and that helps. But she’s sick of sitting still.”
Anna shook her head. “I knew that would happen.”
“I might have to beg you to drive up for another visit.”
“I was planning to come with Hodge anyway, but let me know if it gets bad and I’ll make it sooner. Come on, let’s go to the cafeteria and grab a sandwich.”
They turned south on a path that wound through the grounds. Anna pointed out departmental turf as they passed. Buildings housing biology, science, and the gym slid by. The last structure was home to the psychology department.
“Professor Welles is on the second floor,” Anna said. “He has office hours until three o’clock today.”
“I know,” Madison replied, trying to sound casual. “I called him and asked if I could drop by. I didn’t want to risk running into him unannounced while I was here.”
“That explains the outfit,” Anna said. “Is that the only reason you warned Mr. Welles you’d be on campus?”
“No, I need to get back to work. Found a couple of new properties he might like.”
“Anything else?”
“Oh, please. I figured today would be a good day to kill three birds with one stone. Lunch with you. Then a quick meeting with the head of biology. Like I said, I called to ask if anyone remembered Edward Blackburne. Turns out Evelyn Udell actually knew him. And last, a business appointment with a client to review some interesting houses.”
“Ah.” Anna hid a smile. “A client.”
“Yes, Ms. Psych Major. A paying customer. I hope.”
“Whatever you say. So I’m just another bird, huh?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Lunch on you?”
“Yeah. Payback for moving me for the hundredth time.”