Finding Casey: A Novel

by Jo-Ann Mapson

  “Everything about our simple life is about to change,” he said. “I must drive to Española immediately. Casey’s been found. She’s alive, and Juniper is with her. Please, just wait here and try to remain calm. I’ll call you as soon as I know more. I love you both, and I would stay and explain, but I must go.” He turned and walked out of the room even though they were calling after him. If he turned, if he let their expressions get to him, he’d be in no shape to drive.

  Chapter 18

  Aspen waited for her aunt Juniper to come into the room before she began to wake up in earnest. Juniper sat next to Casey, holding her hand, watching her niece; that skinny little girl in the hospital bed, dwarfed by medical equipment, was her niece. “Mama, I’m thirsty,” were her first words, and though she was given a small drink, two minutes later, she said, “Hi, Mama. Where were you? I’m thirsty,” and ten minutes after that, she said nearly the same thing, only with sass. “I wish somebody around here would get me a glass of water.”

  “The doctors said it would be like this,” Casey said. “We just have to wait and be patient. Juniper?”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t know how to ask this.”

  “Just say it.”

  “How did you get away from Seth and Abel? Do you hate me that they killed our parents?”

  “What are you talking about, Casey?”

  “Seth told me he killed them, and you. How did you escape?”

  Juniper steeled herself. “A lot happened while you were gone, Casey. Maybe we should wait until my—” what did she call him? Daddy Joe, her other dad, the one who didn’t abandon her? She had no idea how to bridge that chasm. When Chico came into the room with her purse and a sack, she welcomed the interruption.

  “I brought you two sandwiches, one ham and cheese, the other a BLT. I know, carbs and all that, but if you’re hungry.”

  Juniper let go of Casey’s hand and stood up. “It’s fine, Chico, thanks.”

  He looked at Casey and then at Juniper. “You look alike, you really do. What do I say? ‘Glad to meet you’ doesn’t really cover it, does it?”

  Casey smiled. “Thank you for taking care of my sister. Are you her boyfriend?”

  Chico sidestepped the question. “We have a present for Aspen. I don’t know if now is the right time—is it?” He took the plastic aquarium out of Juniper’s purse and set it on Casey’s lap.

  Aspen tried to sit up. “Mama? Is that for me?”

  Casey went to her daughter and opened the present for her. “Those are dolphins,” she said, pointing to the roll inside the plastic aquarium. “I think this toy needs batteries.”

  “Already put them in,” Chico said. “Click the red switch on the bottom and you’re good to go.”

  Juniper watched her sister showing the toy to her niece. “A long time ago, your mom and I went to Sea World Aquarium and petted real dolphins. When you’re all better, we’ll plan a trip.”

  Aspen clutched the toy aquarium close, and wouldn’t let go. “This is mine,” she said.

  “That’s not going anywhere, honey,” Casey said. “It’s yours.”

  “Or maybe we’ll go to the ocean,” Juniper said. “March is whale-watching season.”

  “What’s an ocean?” Aspen asked.

  Juniper looked at Chico. How did you explain something like that to a child who’d never been more than a few feet out of a yard?

  Chico said, “It’s like a lake, only busier.”

  Juniper took his arm and squeezed it. “We’ll be right back.”

  Out in the hallway, she asked him, “What time is it?”

  He looked at his watch. “A little after four. Should I drive your car back to school, and catch up with you in a few days? I feel like I’m in the way here.”

  A nurse walked past them and then turned into a patient’s room. “I kind of don’t want you to go. Would you stay for a while?”

  “Sure,” he said. “As long as you need me.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I know this day is beyond weird. It’s just that I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Just say what’s in your heart.”

  Juniper bit her lip. “I know Dr. Carey doesn’t believe in Incompletes, but I really hope you can talk him into giving me one.”

  “Are you serious? Juniper, all you have to do is write up the story of this day and you’ll have your A.”

  “She’s my sister,” Juniper said. “We all thought she was dead.”

  “That’s why your mom killed herself, isn’t it?”

  Juniper nodded.

  “I called your dad. He’s on his way.”

  “Dad?” Casey said, peeking her head out of the room. “Is Mom coming, too? They’re alive?”

  Juniper looked at Chico, then back at her sister. “Casey, where did Mrs. Clemmons go? Let’s ask her to sit with us while we talk.”

  Glory lay on the couch, staring at the silver aluminum Christmas tree Halle had bought at Ace Hardware. Her sister was decorating with purple, hot-pink, and lime-green ornaments only. If Glory had the energy, she might have told Halle that she preferred a traditional tree, trimmed with cranberry and popcorn strings, but she couldn’t muster the strength. After her subtle and monochromatic previous life, gray being the foundation color, this new Halle was all over the spectrum. How did she find pink pinecones? Glory wondered. How strange it felt to let go of a ritual as fundamental as decorating your Christmas tree, but if anyone needed to be in charge of something, it was Halle. Besides, all Glory could do was lie there and try not to get too emotional.

  This might just be the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard, she’d said a couple of days ago, crying silently into the phone while she listened to Juniper tell her the story of Casey’s last seven years with the Grimm Brothers. One was dead and the other missing. When Joseph got home later that night, he had told Glory and Halle that in order to help Casey ease back into any kind of life, they all had to behave as if Seth would be caught. Halle had said, “I’ll go find the bastard myself.”

  Now her husband was outside on the portal, where they were breaking ground for a room addition. The contractor, whose last name, unsurprisingly, was Vigil, said it would take less than four weeks to get the room habitable. The middle of winter and they were cutting a doorway into the oldest wall in the house, one that dated back at least to the 1800s but probably older, the contractor said. It reminded Glory of her first visit with the realtor four years ago, and the unloved state her home-to-be was in. Contractors had descended then, and in retrospect, it seemed like the remodel had taken only a few weeks.

  Crunch. The sound of crumbling stucco rained down, making a mess on the portal. The clunk-clunk-clunk of hammer taps, looking for support studs. Soon they’d stop for lunch and that would take them two hours at least. Joseph had promised they would nail up plywood over the exposed walls every night, and sweep up the mess as they went along. It struck Glory that there had to be some kind of primal urge in men to tear things down, to look inside, to understand how things were built and imagine they could do it better this time. All she could think was how crabby she’d be when that fine coating of plaster dust covered every surface.

  Four weeks was thinking positively.

  Oh, well. In her last phone call with her mom, Ave had said, “Pish-posh. With a newborn, the more noise the better. The last thing you want is everyone tippy-toeing around a baby. She needs to learn to sleep through racket or you’ll never have your life back. Now, what names have you come up with? I’ve always liked the name Mabel, myself. Or how about Myrtle? Or Wilma? Those are good, old-fashioned names that stand the test of time.”

  Mabel Vigil? A somber-faced portrait from the Palace of the Governor’s archives came to mind, some naïve East Coast wife who followed her husband across the prairie and found herself living in a shack with a dirt floor, waking every morning to the braying of donkeys. Glory placed one hand on her swollen belly. Your name will come the minute I see you, she promised her daughter
. Eddie, the Italian greyhound, snuggled next to her on the couch. Every time the baby kicked, he growled at being disturbed from his sleep. More tapping, more stucco/adobe falling. The house wasn’t the only place running out of space. Sometimes she could make out the length of the baby’s arm or leg against her flesh. So crowded in there. Another month, Dr. Montano said. The time will fly by.

  On the wings of a tortoise, Glory thought, and as she heard another chunk of wall drop, she shut her eyes.

  Halle came in through the front door with two grocery totes filled with green chile peppers. “I bought out Whole Foods,” she said, and dumped them out on the coffee table in front of the couch.

  Eddie grabbed one, and Glory took it from him without moving an inch. “Explain to me why we need a thousand chiles?”

  “To string them for the tree, of course.”

  “What happened to tinsel?”

  “Not New Mexican enough. Think of the green against the silver tree, the purple lights, and all these ornaments. It’s going to be stunning. I’ll ask Joseph to take pictures, make a brochure, put them in the hotels and restaurants, and start a business decorating for the holidays. I have great taste.” She took out a spool of thread and a pack of needles.

  Glory wished she had a camera, because someone needed to capture on film Halle threading a needle, otherwise no one would ever believe it. When she lived in California, Halle hired an interior designer to decorate her house for the holidays, a different theme every year, paired with wines Bart saved for the parties they threw, or exotic drinks they served, like that one year, “Sand in Your Shorts.” “Sounds like a wonderful idea,” Glory told her, thinking Halle was in for another disappointment. “Be sure you don’t rub your eyes.”

  “Jeepers, Glory,” Halle said. “Just because I had a cleaning lady doesn’t mean I can’t learn a few domestic tasks. Why don’t you help me? It’s not like lifting your arms will send you into labor.”

  “It’s more fun watching you do all the work.”

  “You always were the lazy sister,” Halle said, and without missing a beat, Glory answered, “I see you’ve taken up bald-faced lying.”

  Halle laughed. “How much do you weigh? Next to you, that poor dog looks like a stick.”

  The little greyhound was sleeping on his back, leaning against her belly, cockroaching. Glory patted Eddie’s chest, and he groaned happily. “He’s helping me rest up for the big day.”

  “The other day I was reading about those water births. It’s supposed to be easier on the baby.”

  “Joseph would have apoplexy. I’ll have the baby the old-fashioned way, in a hospital with an epidural and my cheering section. Did I tell you Juniper decided she wants to be there?”

  Halle squinted at the eye of the needle. “That’s the best advertisement for birth control and safe sex ever.”

  “No sex is safe,” Glory said. “Look at me.”

  “You do look a bit like that whale Captain Ahab was always chasing.”

  “A hungry whale. Why don’t you take a break from the chiles and make me a snack? I’m feeling like red grapes. Peeled. And some sliced cheddar. That Dubliner cheese you bought at Trader Joe’s.”

  Halle made a disgusted sound. “I’m not your slave.”

  Glory laughed. Halle indignant with her sister was a recovering Halle. She still broke down in tears a couple of times a week, trying to puzzle out how her marriage had died. Glory listened and said things would get better, that mourning takes time. Halle’s response was always the same, How long, dammit? Glory had no answer for that, but Halle’s heartbreak was certainly getting things done around the house. She had painted the baby’s room, assembled the crib and changing table, stockpiled diapers that would last little No-name until her teenage years, and already bought the baby book. There was the sound of another crash, and Glory groaned. “I don’t suppose you’d go see what is happening out there?”

  “How about I put on some Christmas music to drown out the noise?”

  “Nothing overly jolly, okay?” Glory watched her sister fiddle with the iPod system Juniper had set up. She had no idea how it worked and didn’t really care. The purple twinkle lights blinked from the tree and the smell of chiles in the air reminded her of the roasters that sprang up in the fall in one parking lot or another around town. Tomorrow Casey and Aspen would arrive. They’d bunk with Juniper in her room, where a trundle bed had been installed until the addition was finished.

  Halle fiddled with the volume, and the air was filled with Vivaldi’s violin concerto in A minor. Halle returned to her chile stringing and Glory felt the music soar through her heart.

  “Ladies,” Joseph said, tracking dust into the great room, “take a look at what Clemente and I uncovered.”

  Cupped in his hand was what looked like a bird’s nest, or a mummy’s wrappings, the cloth was so disintegrated. Inside was a four-inch-by-four-inch retablo, the paint faded and crackled over time to a matte finish. The painting of a madonna was unmistakable, with a golden halo and a blue cape—the Virgin Mary’s colors. Beneath it were the words, “Nuestra señora de los Dolores.”

  “What’s that mean?” Halle said.

  “Our Lady of the Sorrows,” Joseph translated. “Dolores.”

  “Juniper is going to love that,” Glory said.

  “Where is my arbolita?” Joseph asked. “I wanted to show it to her right away.”

  “Out having coffee with Chico. So where did you find it? In between wall studs? Was there anything else?”

  Joseph frowned. “It was in a nicho. Clemente said we had to tread carefully, this part of the house being so old and the structural beams in who knew what shape. This nicho had been stuffed with newspaper and plastered over, just barely. I guess the rags kept it intact.”

  “Are you going to take it to the museum?” Glory said.

  “No,” Joseph said. “The museum has retablos coming out their ears. This one wants to stay here, where it’s lived for two hundred years. We’re going to move the doorway over a couple of feet in order to keep the nicho intact.”

  Glory smiled. “I think that will make our Dolores happy. Who knows? Maybe she’ll decide it’s time to move on.”

  “I doubt that very much,” Halle said. “Dolores is not going to abandon Colibri Road just because you found some old relic. We’re her reason for being. Her audience.”

  “You’re probably right,” Joseph said. “Anything I can get for you?”

  Glory smiled. “Right after you sweep up the dirt you tracked indoors you should call Juniper.”

  “Sorry about the dirt. You know, I was thinking we could take Casey to visit my dad’s farm. We could all go, even the dogs, get out of your hair for a few days.”

  Glory reached over and tugged on his jeans. “No way. I like you in my hair.”

  “Eww, stop,” Halle said. “None of that double-entendre mushy business while I’m in the room.” She added another pepper and Glory could hear the squeak of the needle going through the jalapeño’s flesh. The smell was making her hungry, but then, what wasn’t?

  Joseph said, “Hermana, if that sounds suggestive to you, maybe you’re the one with the dirty mind.”

  “Right,” Halle said. “Takes one to know one.”

  “I’m going to get the broom before this discussion goes out of control,” Joseph said.

  Glory was ashamed of herself, complaining about a little bit of dirt, considering how full the house would be once Casey and Aspen arrived—and their dog. Such was life, handing you a new complication just when you thought your plate couldn’t hold any more. Somehow you found the room. Besides, there was nothing she could do other than lie here, waiting. For Aspen to be released, for Casey to arrive; Halle, for her divorce papers; and, lest anyone forgot, the baby who was still without a name. They hadn’t even gotten to Christmas.

  Then she heard a shriek and saw that Halle was pressing her palms over her eyes and wailing. “I told you not to touch your eyes,” Glory said. “Joseph,”
she called out, “there’s eyewash in the master bathroom. Can you fetch it for my sister?”

  “Right away,” he said.

  “Does he have to be so freaking optimistic?” Halle said, splashing water from her drinking glass onto her eyes, ruining the careful makeup she plastered on every morning.

  “Unfortunately,” Glory said. “That’s just the way he is.”

  Juniper met Chico at the Plaza Starbucks. She walked in the door, looked around, and there he was, seated at the table near the front window, two coffees in front of him.

  “Hi,” Juniper said. “I can’t believe you’d voluntarily drive up in this weather.”

  “I got you a latte, hope that’s okay.”

  “They’re only my favorite,” she said. In her pocket, she felt her cell phone buzz. It was probably another text from Topher, and she didn’t feel like answering it. After all she and Chico had been through, Topher’s coffeehouse gigs and declarations of love seemed unimportant. Since the day they found Casey, Chico had called her every day, asking about her sister, how Aspen was doing, and what she was reading or listening to or just thinking about.

  “The coffee’s pretty good here,” Chico said.

  “Not as good as the Standard’s, but it’s decent.”

  Juniper’s phone buzzed and vibrated. She took it out of her purse, frowned at it, and set it on the table between them.

  “I heard from Louella,” Chico said.

  “What did she say? I hope she liked my paper.”

  “She loved the photos.”

  “And the rest of it?”

  “Well,” he said, “she said it was kind of ‘long.’ ”

  Juniper laughed. “It is. But it turned out to be a complicated story.”