On Blue Falls Pond

by Susan Crandall

  The phone on her desk rang and she jumped, startled out of her thoughts. For the briefest moment she was certain it was Eric calling to cancel dinner, and unexpected disappointment grabbed her by the throat.

  But when she looked at the caller ID, it was the Busy Bee Flower Shop.

  She ripped off her headset and picked up the phone. “Hi, Mother.”

  “I just saw Eric with Glory Harrison again.” She announced it in the tone of breaking news.

  “Really.” Jill worked for a neutral tone. She didn’t want her mother to think her heavy-handed meddling was making any headway—she’d never get the woman off her back then.

  “Yes, really,” Mother said shortly.

  Jill snorted. “I hardly need a minute-by-minute report of his activities.”

  “If you fool around long enough, it’ll be too late.”

  “We’re divorced, Mother. How much more too late do you think it can get?” No need to let her mother in on possibilities that might not come to pass.

  There was a long pause where Jill could imagine her mother massaging her forehead in frustration. “I really do not think you’re that dense.”

  Jill didn’t respond.

  “You need to think of your son.” Mother’s tone shifted to reproachful.

  “I rarely think of anything else,” Jill said sharply.

  “Well, you don’t behave as if that’s the case. I cannot believe you threw away a husband like Eric to take up with that gigolo.”

  “Jason was afraid of commitment. He wasn’t a gigolo.” There had been a time when sex had dominated their relationship—back when they’d had to sneak around. “Is that all you called for?”

  “Well, I thought you should know. Ovella said she saw them together Sunday before last”—then she added in a scandalous tone—“on his motorcycle.”

  “You already told me.” Jill rubbed her own forehead. “I thought you said they were buying dog food. The road was washed out. He was doing a favor; hardly a romantic tryst. Glory lives with Tula; they’re bound to run across one another.”

  “Have you run across Glory?”

  Jill hesitated before she caught herself. Damn, that pause would speak volumes to Mother’s conjecturing mind. “No. She’s been out on my days to pick up Scott.”

  Her mother made a knowing noise deep in her throat.

  The pressure to straighten up and fly right had been strong from the day Jill announced that she and Eric were divorcing. It had ratcheted up considerably since Jason had left the picture.

  Mother said, “I just don’t want you to make another mistake. Scottie needs his mommy and daddy together. Just look how normal Jennifer’s children are.”

  “Scott is not abnormal, Mother. Jennifer’s twins are only eleven months old. There’s still time for her to screw them up. I have to go. The doctor is waiting for this transcript.” It was a lie, but her mother would never know.

  “All right. Just keep in mind he won’t wait around forever for you to come to your senses.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” Jill disconnected the call. Her stomach felt like a crumpled ball of lead. As much as she hated to admit it, she hadn’t ever thought of Eric being with another woman. And now that it had been brought to mind, she didn’t like the way it made her feel.

  “Mr. Franklin says he didn’t notice anyone around your car,” Eric said as he came back out of the garage office. “It’s been sitting out here since he finished it yesterday afternoon.” He handed Glory a bottle of water he’d gotten from the machine sitting in front of the building. “Drink some of this.”

  Glory was sitting sideways in the driver’s seat of her car, with her feet still on the pavement. She barely had the strength in her hands to unscrew the cap. Who was behind this . . . taunting?

  She took a long swig of the water. It made her mouth feel less gummy, but her stomach immediately began to churn.

  She’d never been afraid of the holes in her memory. But in light of the things that she had recently remembered about her relationship with her husband, fear of what was hiding in those holes had taken root and was growing like kudzu. Right now, she felt as if those vines were inching around her throat.

  If she hadn’t been so stunned, if she’d had a moment to compose herself before Eric had appeared at her side, she would never have told him about the note in this morning’s paper. One instance was easy to pass off as a teen prank, but two back-to-back in two different locations carried more weight.

  Of course, Eric wasn’t going to let this go. He stood in the open car door, his left arm resting on the top, looking down at her with concern in his eyes. For some reason that concern made her feel guilty.

  Did she have something to hide? She needed time to think—alone.

  She swung her legs into the car. “I’d better be getting back to Gran.” She kept her eyes forward, looking out the windshield. Eric had an uncanny way of seeing her emotions when she looked at him.

  He didn’t move out of the door.

  She was forced to glance up at him. “I’m fine—really. You should get Scott home.”

  “Glory, we need to talk about this.”

  “What’s to talk about? Some kid found a way to break summer boredom,” she said dismissively.

  “And what would prompt a kid to start a campaign to upset you? You’ve been gone for nearly two years. That’s a long time for a teenager to remember something that had nothing to do with them personally.”

  “It’s a small town. I’m sure by now people are speculating about my coming back. Any bored teenager would be curious about a fire that killed someone. You know how influenced they are by movies.”

  He still didn’t move so she could make a getaway. “I don’t think you believe that any more than I do.”

  “What else could it be?” She tried to sound glib but was betrayed by the slight tremor in her voice.

  “I don’t think you should drive back just yet. Let’s go get a cup of coffee.”

  “No.”

  The windows were down and the door open on his Explorer. Scott started to fuss.

  “I’m fine.” She cast him a confident look. “Take your son home.”

  Eric’s gaze cut from his car back to her again. “I don’t like this.”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  He gestured to the matchbook on the console. “Let me take that and turn it over to the police. If this continues, maybe they’ll be able to assemble enough evidence to help figure this out.”

  “You’re making too much of this.”

  “Am I?” His gaze penetrated deep. For an instant he looked at her like he suspected she was hiding something.

  “I really have to go.” She reached for the door. “Your son’s crying.”

  He hesitated only a moment before he stepped out of the way and let her close the door.

  In her rearview mirror, she saw him get in his Explorer and give one last, lingering look. Then he pulled out of the way so she could back out.

  The matchbook still lay next to the gearshift like a coiled snake. She could almost hear it calling to her memory.

  At five past six, Eric stood on the sidewalk in front Bongo’s with Scott at his side. Eric hoped his son had recovered from his last restaurant experience better than he had. As Eric stood there, gathering the courage to open the glass-and-aluminum door, he could still hear Scott’s terrified screams, still see his little son covering his ears and burying his face on the table. It was as if it had been painful for him to be in that atmosphere, as if the noises and the motion had been a physical attack on his senses.

  That extreme reaction had been Eric’s first real confirmation that his son was changing, that something was beginning to tilt off its axis. Scott had continued to decline and withdraw in so many other ways since then, he feared this experience would be worse than the last foray into dining out.

  He knelt on the sidewalk in front of Scott. He lifted his son’s chin gently and spoke softly to him, “We’re going t
o go inside and see Mommy. She has your peanut butter and banana sandwich. Are you hungry?”

  Scott’s gaze roved, never making connection with Eric’s, even though Eric held the child’s chin firmly in place. Not a good sign.

  “Okay, buddy, we’re going in.” Eric stood up and braced himself. “Let’s go see Mommy,” he said cheerfully.

  The instant they stepped inside the door, Scott pressed his face against Eric’s leg and began to whimper.

  Eric scanned the tables. The pizza place was more crowded than he’d expected. It was oppressively warm and loud, filled with motion and laughter and the scent of warm yeast and oregano. As Eric’s gaze fell upon a family seated near him, his heart ached. The parents were laughing at something the three-year-old had done, while the mother rocked a pumpkin seat with a pink-swaddled baby sleeping inside. Did those people know how lucky they were?

  Scott whimpered and covered his ears. At least he wasn’t screaming yet.

  Jill stood up in the back and waved. She’d had the good sense to get a booth. Maybe once they had Scott a little more isolated, he’d calm down, and this wouldn’t be the disaster Eric had been dreading all afternoon.

  He told himself that it might be good if Scott had a full-blown fit here in front of Jill. Although she had Scott more of the time than Eric did, she swore he never behaved inappropriately. His temper tantrums were normal near-three-year-old fare. But Eric had noticed how Jill slowly and carefully organized her life so Scott was rarely in situations that prompted trouble, making it easier to reinforce her cocoon of denial. And to be honest, Eric wasn’t sure she even realized that she was doing it. Like everything else about Scott, Jill’s accommodations had crept forward one insidious inch at a time.

  Although this might be just what Eric needed to make his point, he hated that Scott would have to suffer to accomplish it.

  Instead of making Scott walk through the crowded room with everyone looming over him, Eric picked him up and walked to where Jill waited. Scott buried his face against Eric’s neck; Eric heard his son’s teeth grinding.

  Eric laid a hand gently on the back of Scott’s head, and whispered, “You’re doing great, buddy. Look, here’s Mommy.”

  He could not peel the child off him when he reached Jill, so he just slid into the booth wearing Scott like a second skin. He scooted to the far side of the tall-backed booth, away from the commotion. Scott was as isolated as he was going to get.

  Jill leaned across the table. “Hey, baby.” She touched Scott’s back. “Scottie, are you hungry? I brought your sandwich.”

  Eric heard the child’s teeth grind louder. A muted growl rumbled in Scott’s throat, not loud, but steady, as if he was trying to block everything else out with his own soothing noise.

  “Well,” Jill said cheerily, “maybe you’ll want to eat in a little bit.” She laid the sandwich in its Ziploc baggie on the table. “I already ordered us a pitcher of beer and a pizza, so he won’t have to wait too long.”

  Again, Jill’s accommodation to Scott’s behavior. But Eric hadn’t come here to fight that battle. There was something on Jill’s mind. He wanted to know what it was and how it was going to affect his son.

  The waitress brought the beer and two frosted mugs. She set them on the table and filled Jill’s mug. Eric put a hand over his glass to prevent her from filling his. “Could I have a Coke, please?”

  “Sure thing.” She left.

  Jill eyed him suspiciously. “Are you so mad at me you won’t drink a beer with me?”

  “I’m not mad. I just don’t want a beer.” Scott was still plastered against him. It just seemed wrong to guzzle a beer over the head of a terrified child.

  Jill lifted a shoulder, tilting her head just so, in the way that used to make his heart beat faster. Now he found it exceedingly annoying, mostly because it was so deliberately coy.

  Jill’s mother had coached her daughters well—from puberty both girls had been able to manipulate a male with remarkable skill. He might have thought it an inbred instinct, but he’d seen the quiet and disguised looks Gail Landry gave her girls; they had been more subtle than the gesturing and yelling of a football coach, but every bit as effective.

  Jill took a sip of her beer, then fiddled with the cocktail napkin under the glass, carefully rolling up one corner.

  Eric needed to talk to her about the babysitting problem, but he was curious enough about her reason for this little meeting to let that wait. “So, what did you need to talk about?”

  Scott continued to moan softly. Eric was pretty sure Jill couldn’t hear.

  She moistened her lips, leaned back against the booth, and dropped her hands in her lap. “I don’t know any way to say this, without just coming right out and saying it.”

  “That’s usually the best way.” Shit, she was getting married. That SOB was going to be Scott’s stepfather. Eric held his son a little tighter.

  She drew a deep breath. “I’m not seeing Jason anymore.”

  As the tension drained away from Eric’s shoulders, he realized just how wound up he’d been. “Okay.”

  “Do you want to know why?” she asked, looking out from beneath her lashes.

  “Not particularly.”

  “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway.”

  He wanted to get up and leave. No man wanted to listen to why his ex-wife broke up with the man who broke up their marriage. But he sat still.

  She said, “I just think I need to concentrate on what’s best for Scott right now. With working . . . well, there’s only so much of me to go around.”

  It took everything in him to keep from shouting, There should be more of you to go around than there was when we were still married and you had a job and a son, and you were banging Jason on the side. I’d say you’re juggling fewer balls now . . . no pun intended.

  Instead, he just nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth.

  She went on, “I just think you and I need to work together more. Scott is still so young, still forming his personality. I think if we concentrate on it, he’ll come around.”

  Eric stared at her, and his mouth fell open. He snapped it closed and counted to five before he responded. “First of all, I have been concentrating on it—twenty-four/ seven. Since he drew his first breath, I haven’t made a single decision that didn’t consider him first. Secondly, I’m convinced it’s going to take more than our ‘concentration’ to help him. There’s something wrong, and it’s getting worse by the day. My God, I can’t sleep at night for thinking that every day there’s less of him, every day we don’t take action is a day we’re not going to get back!” Talking too loud, he’d leaned forward until Scott was pressed against the table edge. Reining himself in, he sat back.

  Jill blinked.

  It had been a long, long time since he’d lost his temper around her. He didn’t like to let her think she had that much power over him. But when it came to his son, he was vulnerable in ways that frightened him.

  “Maybe we all just need to spend more time together. Look how good he’s being now—”

  “He’s not being good,” Eric ground out between clenched teeth. “He’s terrified.”

  “Don’t be silly. He’s not screaming. You said the last time you brought him here he screamed.”

  “Come over here and sit by me.”

  “What?” Her brow wrinkled in confusion.

  “Get out of that seat and come over here and sit beside me.”

  Slowly, as if she suspected some trick, she slid out of the booth. When she was sitting next to him, she raised a blond brow. “Okay, now what?”

  “Lean over here. Put your ear close to Scott’s head.”

  She did. And after a second she said with some surprise, “He’s growling.”

  “He’s been grinding his teeth and making that noise since we came in here.” He looked his ex-wife in the eye. “Jill, this is much, much worse than screaming. He’s afraid, and he’s retreating deeper and deeper inside himself. He’s usin
g this noise to keep everything else out.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Eric, he’s just making a noise! All kids make noises. What makes you think you know so much more than Dr. Martin?”

  “I’m not saying that. But I do know there’s something wrong with my son. I’m making an appointment with the specialist in Knoxville. You can come with me or not; it’s up to you. But I’m taking him for an evaluation.”

  “I’ll go.”

  Her acquiescence took him so off guard, he didn’t respond right away. It felt as if he’d been bracing himself for a huge wave that evaporated just before it crashed over him. After months and months of denial and delay, of trying to convince him that Scott’s development wasn’t abnormal, she’d simply said yes.

  She said, “He’s not your son. He’s our son. I’ll go.” She took Eric’s hand. “We’ll work through this together—as a family.”

  Eric’s elation over her agreement cooled slightly. There seemed to be something buried in her words—something much more than simply working toward a goal for their child’s health. But he wouldn’t risk having her turn on him now, not when he’d waited too long already. So he just nodded and held his son more tightly. I promise you we’ll bring you back, Scott. We’ll find a way.

  Lingering dread distracted Glory all the way back to the hollow and dogged her steps throughout the afternoon. All of her efforts to redirect her mind by pushing her body were useless. She toiled in the garden, sweating in the sun until her muscles trembled and she felt light-headed, yet her thoughts kept circling around to unwanted topics.

  There was a growing realization that her life with Andrew had not been the happily-ever-after she’d dressed it in. Their marriage had had problems. But just how big had they been? And what had those problems led to?

  Around four o’clock, Granny stepped out onto the back stoop. “Didn’t I teach you better’n that? Where’s your sun hat?”

  Glory looked up. Granny was coming down the steps, her own hat securely on her head and two tall glasses of ice water in her hands.