by V. K. Powell
“Detective Monroe,” Jack rose from the kitchen table and offered his hand, “so good to see you again. Do you have news about my father? I’m sorry. I forgot my manners. Would either of you like something to eat? Mrs. Bryce made spaghetti with real meatballs, garlic bread, and salad, my very favorite meal.”
Leigh looked from the arrangement of food on the table to Jack’s plate. “Is it edible?” The thought popped out and Jack looked confused.
“Yeah, real good. Want some?”
“No.”
“Yeah, I’ll give it a try.” Nate smiled at Susan, who took two more plates out of the cupboard and set them on the table. Leigh felt like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole into some alternate universe where the evil step-monster was the good guy and she was the demon.
“Sure I can’t tempt you, Leigh?” The food smelled delicious, but she remembered all the meals she and Hedy had missed because Susan was never home to make them and all the ones she’d ruined trying to be a surrogate mother. If she’d been hungry, her appetite vanished.
“I said no.”
“What about some tea then? Surely that won’t hurt?”
As if she’d already accepted, Susan prepared two more glasses and handed them to her and Nate, then stood beside Jack’s chair. If Leigh’s mouth hadn’t been so dry and her throat so tight, she would’ve refused the drink too, but she needed to finish her business and get out of there fast. “Jack, we don’t have anything for you yet. We need your help to narrow the search. How old was your dad when he died?”
Jack put his fork down and took a swig of tea. He blinked several times and swallowed hard before answering. “For—forty. He was only forty years old.”
Susan squeezed his shoulders as if offering comfort, and Leigh cringed. She recalled being sick and asking to stay home from school, but Susan insisted she go so Hedy wouldn’t be alone. Susan had plied her with cold medicine and sent her off without the one thing she needed most, her mother’s nurturing and understanding. She couldn’t remember a time when Susan had touched her in the reassuring fashion she’d just shown Jack. She and Hedy had never seemed to matter that much. Refocusing on the case, she said, “This would be a lot easier if you’d just tell us who you are. We could locate his family quicker and get you back home, which is where again?”
Jack shook his head. “Nice try, but not until I find my father’s relatives. Sorry, Detective. Guess I’m stuck here with this nice lady who cooks great meals. Poor me.”
For a moment she stared at him, trying to reconcile his glowing opinion of Susan with her less flattering one. He was just a kid who didn’t know anything about her life. Villains and monsters came in all guises, shapes, and walks of life. She had no doubt Susan’s true colors would float to the surface, and when they did, CFS would take her off the approved-parent list.
Jack and Nate shoveled spaghetti into their mouths like they were in a competition and then asked for seconds. She considered grabbing Nate by the collar and dragging him out but didn’t want to make a scene in front of Jack. When they finally finished, she stood and nodded toward the door, hoping Nate would take the hint.
“Hey, Jack, want to play a few hoops to settle that huge lunch?” Nate looked back and forth between her and Susan in his not-so-subtle way of saying they should talk.
“Sure.” Jack started out but turned to Susan. “Thanks, that was really great.”
She wasn’t about to be left alone with Susan Bryce, not for one second. She stood and started toward the front of the house. “Nate, we really don’t have time for—”
“Sure we do. It’s my lunch hour, and you got nothing better to do. A growing boy needs exercise. Won’t be long.” He gave her his dimple-faced smile and almost ran out behind Jack.
She stood in the archway between the kitchen and the living room, unable to be in the same room with Susan. Unwilling to look at her, Leigh stared out the window to where Nate and Jack played, wishing she was there or anywhere other than here. What’s stopping you? You’re not a kid anymore. She headed out.
“Leigh, please wait.”
The voice was her mother’s, but she’d never used that pleading tone before. If she’d heard it from anyone else, Leigh would’ve been compelled to uncover the problem and remedy it. She was a fixer, but this was her mother, and she’d stopped trying to fix her years ago. “Why are you here, Susan?”
“Greensboro is my home…and…”
Typical. It’s all about her.
“I wanted to be closer to Hedy…and you.”
“Is that why you left us alone all the time when we were growing up?” She hated the bitterness in her voice, that she couldn’t control it and that Susan could see her pain.
“I know that’s what you think, Leigh, but—”
“What I think? Evidence to the contrary, Mother dear. If you check the police records, you’ll find more than one call to our apartment when you were absent.” She didn’t want to have this conversation, not here, not now, not ever. Anger welled inside, making it hard to breathe, and then burst into pain begging to come out. She choked down a sob. “Why are you doing this…whatever you’re doing?”
“You mean the foster-parent thing or living here?”
“Both.”
“I lived in Virginia for years until my husband died.” Her bottom lip trembled, and she leaned back against the kitchen sink as if needing support.
“Which husband, number four or five?” Low even for her. Hurt or not, she wasn’t an intentionally cruel person. “I’m sorry, that was unkind and unnecessary.” In another life, Leigh might’ve liked this intelligent, articulate woman with red hair and eyes that mirrored her own, but not in this life. She was an opportunist who married men for their money and resented having children who got in the way of what she wanted.
“I worked with CFS in Virginia for several years, and it sort of followed me.”
She tried to imagine Susan taking care of other people’s children the way she hadn’t taken care of her own, and another wave of pain roiled inside. Did Susan have any idea how upsetting it was to see her parenting Jack? She and Hedy would’ve given anything for that kind of attention. Now it was too late. She wanted to forgive, for Hedy’s sake and her own sanity, but she couldn’t look at Susan without remembering what never was.
“Leigh, I’d really like to talk to you about everything, whenever you’re ready.”
“I can’t do this. Tell Nate I’ll be outside.”
Chapter Ten
Macy sat on the front porch sipping an afternoon coffee, unable to bear the confinement of the small cottage. She’d woken up several times during the night, and when she checked this morning, Leigh’s car was gone. Had she left early or simply not been home all night? Home? The irony wasn’t lost on her. Why would Leigh stay in a place she obviously wasn’t welcome and had been told to leave?
She’d accused Leigh of lying, when she was doing the same thing, pretending to take a break from work and painting while she withdrew more every day. Why were events from her childhood still dictating her life? Was she weak, had she held on for a reason, refused to move forward purposely, or maybe used them as an excuse to avoid relationships? None of those options suited the image of who she wanted to be. She flung the remnants of her coffee into the yard and reached for the doorknob as Leigh’s vehicle pulled into the drive.
Removing boxes and a bag of Cheetos from her car, Leigh started toward the dock without acknowledging her. “Could I talk with you for a second?” Leigh kept walking. “Please?”
Leigh dropped everything and shuffled toward her. Hands in her pockets and shoulders hunched forward, she stared at the ground. The lively energy that usually surrounded her had turned dull and listless. Macy envisioned shadowy colors blanketing her and weighing her down. “What happened?”
“Nothing that would interest you.” Leigh raised her head and stared at her with puffy, bloodshot eyes.
She extended her hand but Leigh leaned out of reach. She�
�d never seen her so dejected, and the pang in her chest burrowed deep. “Is this my fault, because I asked you to leave?”
“No. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to pack.”
“Wait, please. I’d like to talk about yesterday. Actually, I’d like you to talk and I’d like to listen for a change.”
Leigh’s eyes dug into her soul. “Why would you want to hear about my problems? Yesterday you wanted me to leave. I’m getting whiplash from your drastic mood swings. What’s changed?”
“I went off half-cocked, without knowing the facts. And it’s really none of my business what you do for a living, as long as you pay the rent. I’m sorry. I want to understand, if you want to tell me what happened.”
“That might not be a good idea. You couldn’t tell anyone, and that puts you in an awkward position if you’re ever asked.”
“Did you do something criminal?”
“No, but I did violate departmental policy, and I didn’t tell the Internal Affairs detectives everything. So you’re right, I lied, to them and to you. Not my proudest moments.”
The admission caught Macy off guard. She’d expected an explanation that didn’t include Leigh being a liar. It didn’t fit her picture of the generous woman who’d mothered her baby sister for years and chopped wood for strangers. “I’m still willing to listen if you want to talk.”
Leigh seemed to consider the offer. “I’d like to finally tell the whole story, if you promise not to repeat it—not for me, but because it might get an innocent third party in trouble.”
Macy nodded and exhaled like she was blowing up a balloon, as some of the tension drained from her body. She loosened the grip on her coffee mug as the possibility that Leigh might refuse to talk to her evaporated. She wanted to know about Leigh’s life, especially the buried parts that hurt or caused her concern. The easy parts flowed effortlessly. “Come in. I’ll get us some coffee. Looks like you could use a cup.”
“You have no idea. I’d ask for something stronger, but I don’t think it’d help.”
Leigh shucked off her leather jacket as casually as if she lived there and dropped it on the floor beside the sofa. Macy poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Leigh. Then she picked up Leigh’s jacket and hung it by the door as she waited.
“Pam, my best friend who works at Children and Family Services, and I had a case involving an eleven-year-old girl, Lily. She was a very bright kid. How she managed to keep up with her schoolwork with everything going on in her life was a miracle. Her mother was an addict who died of an overdose, so Lily was about to be thrown into the system.” Leigh took a sip of coffee and swallowed visibly.
“Her mother’s boyfriend, also an addict with no job, lived in the apartment with them. When the mother died, he offered to take care of Lily, thought he’d be able to collect the money from Social Services. Lily didn’t want to live with him.” She dug into the side of her forefinger with her thumbnail, and her eyes turned cold. “Said he sexually abused her. Kids make up stuff, but Pam and I talked with Lily several times, and her story never changed. We both believed she was telling the truth.”
“Oh, my God, what happened? Tell me you didn’t take her back to him.”
“Pam and I drove Lily to the funeral. The boyfriend wasn’t even there, real classy. Afterward, we asked if she had any other relatives we could call, anybody who might be willing to look after her. She had a grandmother in Detroit, Pam called, and she was thrilled to have Lily live with her. However, she couldn’t get to Greensboro for three days.”
Macy’s heartbeat accelerated and some of her anxiety melted away. “I’m beginning to see the problem.”
“Pam and I agreed not to put her back in her home environment. She told us about an elderly woman who lived in a house behind the apartment complex. The neighbor had often let her sleep over and gave her food when her mother was gone for days. Lily thought she might step in until her grandmother arrived.”
“So, you called the neighbor?” She inched closer to Leigh on the sofa, eager for the rest of the story.
“Couldn’t do that.”
Leigh smiled at her for the first time, and Macy’s insides felt gooey, like chocolate in the hot sun. Her green eyes sparkled, and she looked like the Leigh of two days ago. “So?”
“I explained to Lily why we couldn’t ask her neighbor for help, but if she did without our knowledge…”
“You sly devil. And she understood that cryptic cop double-talk?”
“Like I said, a very smart girl. She contacted her grandmother, told her where she’d be, and on day four she was in Detroit safe and sound.”
“How do you know?”
“Her grandmother called to thank us. I think Lily will have a good life now.”
“Wait, you got in trouble for getting a child out of an abusive situation and keeping her out of the system? Isn’t that what the police and family services are supposed to do?”
“Pam and I were suspended a month for violating policy and procedure. We agreed not to involve the neighbor since she wasn’t a relative, and we weren’t sure if the boyfriend would try to retaliate. The police department and CFS wanted to know where Lily was for three days. Made them look bad, especially when the boyfriend started talking to the papers.”
“Something’s wrong with a system that punishes you for taking care of a child.”
“A society is only as good as its laws, and some of ours are messed up. They protect the wrong people.”
She smiled at Leigh, trying to relay her respect and admiration through the simple gesture. “Wow, the paper sure doesn’t tell that story. You both showed a lot of courage.”
“But I lied to the investigators and to you about being a cop. That wasn’t very courageous. When I came here, I needed to escape from the publicity, get my head together, and decide what to do with my life. I was still living in Gayle, my ex’s, condo, after nine months, and felt stuck. I hoped if you got to know me you might not kick me out when you heard how chaotic my life is. That one really backfired. I planned to tell you everything, but you beat me to it. Sorry.” Leigh reached for her hand but pulled back.
She wanted Leigh to touch her but couldn’t imagine why Leigh would want to. She’d been horrible to her. “Now that I know the whole story, I feel like an ass for the way I acted. I’m hardly one to judge. I’ve been hiding out for six months, pretending to launch my painting career. So far I haven’t started the first piece. The closest I’ve come to returning to my craft and to feeling remotely human is when I manage an occasional nude sketch. You accidentally stumbled into my little patch of purgatory by accident.”
“It’s a beautiful place and you’re not bad either, when you let your guard down.”
Macy let the quasi-compliment pass, glad for the banter but afraid to push her luck. “What about Jack? How does he figure in? Another kid you’re protecting?”
“Sort of, but I don’t know what to do about his situation yet.” Leigh told her about the search for his father’s family, and then the look in her eyes became distant, as if she was recalling something more unpleasant.
“What else has happened? Is it your girlfriend, or sister, or…if that’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.
“Mother.”
“Oh.”
For the next thirty minutes, Leigh filled her in on Jack’s foster mother, who just happened to be her real mother, and the talk they almost had. The worry lines across Leigh’s forehead deepened, and sadness swirled in her eyes like sediment in a murky lake. Macy didn’t have anything to say. Her advice on effectively dealing with parents would fill a thimble.
“And you couldn’t talk to her at all? It sounds like you have some things to work through.” Like her own life, in which she’d closed off everything and everyone. But Leigh lived her feelings in real time and vivid color. Macy doubted if she’d recognize an honest emotion if she had one.
Leigh shook her head. “It’s not that I hate her. And I’m not hiding my feelings, be
lieve me. I just can’t look at her without remembering all the times she wasn’t around for us. How could a mother do that to her children?”
“Don’t you think you should hear her side of the story? Maybe more was going on than you knew at the time. When we’re children we attach meaning to our parents’ actions that isn’t necessarily accurate.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“Nothing like what you’ve been through.” She twisted her hands in her lap and avoided Leigh’s stare. She’d only meant to offer encouragement, not talk about her own issues, again.
“If you could tell me, it might help—in the understanding-parents department. But only if you’re comfortable.”
She should retreat to the comfort of distance and the landlord-tenant relationship, but something in Leigh’s eyes urged her to continue. “When I was a teenager, I told my parents I wanted to be an artist. They were dead set against it, refusing to pay my college tuition unless I took pre-approved courses. I was allowed to study art as a minor but had to keep my other grades up. I thought they were just being cruel, trying to bend my rebellion to their will. Now I realize they were only trying to do what was best for me—steer me in the direction of a useful education with the possibility of a job at the end of it. Things become clearer with the passage of time and the experiences of life. I’m just saying, your mother might have had another reason for her actions.”
“Is that why you’re not close to your parents, because they didn’t support your passion?”
Leigh seemed to be able to discern things about her life she’d never meant to reveal. Maybe that’s what made her a good detective. Would those same attributes serve her in a personal relationship, make her more compassionate and understanding? The question brought her back to the conversation, and she blushed at the intimate detour she’d taken.
“Yes, I suppose it is…and the fact that they have more money than God and choose to piss it away on vacations and toys instead of doing anything meaningful. We’ve talked about my art since, and they’re more supportive. But it was hard to broach the subject after so many years, and it will be with your mother as well.” Leigh smiled at her and she suddenly felt self-conscious. “What’s that grin about?”