Blue Sky Hill [01] A Month of Summer

by Lisa Wingate

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t figure out what’s going on. Whoever this Kay-Kay is, she seems to have dropped off the face of the earth.”

  Teddy was tapping on the window of Mary’s vehicle, leaning close to the glass.

  Mary backed up a step, her face narrowing with concern.

  “Teddy, don’t do that,” I called. “Leave her car alone.”

  Teddy motioned to the interior with his handful of cups. “There a boy and a other boy! Two boy in the car!”

  Mary moved protectively toward the vehicle, scanning the windows. “They must’ve woken up. I probably better go before Brady has a fit. He hates the car seat. Mrs. Parker just wanted me to … check if everything’s all right here. She really needs you to come see her.”

  “Wait,” I said, jogging to catch up with her. “Can you stay a few minutes? I wanted to ask you some questions about Hanna Beth.” She frowned, and I added, “I’d invite you into the house, but it’s still kind of disorganized.” And my father’s in there, doing heaven knows what. “We could sit in the backyard. There’s plenty of room for the kids to run around.”

  Mary hesitated on the path, studying Teddy, me, the house, trying to assess the situation before getting her kids out of the car.

  “Please.” I realized I was practically begging. I needed help. I needed to talk to someone, and Mary was here. She had at least some knowledge of Hanna Beth’s condition, of what we could expect going forward.

  Mary unfolded her arms, let them fall to her sides. “The boys haven’t gotten to run around outside in a while.” She focused on the van, where the older boy was trying to open the dented sliding door. The younger boy was hidden in a car seat, his hands flailing in and out of view as Teddy played hide and seek through the glass. I could hear him squealing gleefully as we came closer.

  “I’ll get them,” Mary said. I waited on the sidewalk while she unloaded the boys and introduced them. Teddy said hello with his hands still full of rescued trash.

  “Teddy is Hanna Beth’s son,” I interjected, as Mary took the boys’ hands and we walked around the side of the house.

  Mary nodded. “Hi, Teddy,” she said, and there was a kindness in her voice that made Teddy beam.

  “I got pots.” He nodded toward the trash bundle. “I got a bird nest. Mockin’ burr … Mockin’ bird. Sings good. Wanna see?” He pushed the back gate with his body so we could pass through.

  “I think I need to talk to Rebecca,” Mary answered, “but the boys might like to see the bird nest.” She jostled the boys’ hands, and they looked up at her. “Do you guys think you could be really quiet and look at a bird nest? No touching, because then the mommy won’t come back.”

  Brandon slipped from her hand, but the smaller boy, Brady, paused, still clinging to her. “Wiw da daddy come back?”

  Mary smoothed his hair tenderly. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t touch.” She sent him toddling after his brother, following Teddy across the yard. Teddy paused to set his trash bundle on a planting table near the garden house. Bending close to the boys, he pressed a finger to his lips, then pointed toward a large crepe myrtle by the fence. Together, they tiptoed off like adventurers on safari. Mary stood watching, her gaze taking in the collection of seedlings and homemade potting benches.

  “Please, have a seat.” I motioned to the patio table and chairs. “Can I bring you a glass of tea? I need to check on things in the house.” It sounded ridiculously formal, considering the situation.

  “Don’t go to any trouble.” Mary moved to the patio table and balanced on the edge of a chair, her knees together, hands folded primly on her lap. I left her there and slipped through the back door. My father had awakened and wasn’t in his chair. I could hear him in his office, slamming drawers and moving papers. He often spent hours in there, rearranging files and furniture, putting documents and old newspapers into stacks that made sense only to him. No matter how many times I tried to tidy up, the house was in a perpetual state of disarray.

  At the moment, he seemed to be occupied where he was, which was probably just as well, as he had no view of the backyard from there. No telling how he would react if he saw Mary sitting on the lawn chair. He might decide she was one of those people.

  I was purposefully quiet as I went to the kitchen, poured two glasses of tea, then returned to the patio. Mary had relaxed somewhat, leaned against the armrest. At the far end of the yard, Teddy and the boys were squatted down by the patch of butterfly bush that was just beginning to bloom. A squirrel ran across the fence overhead. Teddy pointed it out, and Brady clapped his hands, squealing.

  “Thanks for letting them play,” Mary said. “They needed to get out and run around. I promised I’d take them to the park, but I haven’t had—’’ She aborted whatever she’d been about to say, and finished with, “Time. It’s kind of a drive to a nice park. The one by the hospital has a lot of bad people in it.”

  “Thanks for staying to talk to me.” I handed her a glass of tea, then sat down. “I need to find out more about Hanna Beth’s condition.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “You might want to come in and talk to her doctor. I’m just an aide. Dr. Barnhill could tell you more than I can.”

  “I haven’t been able to get away from the house.” The answer came out more sharply than I’d meant it to. The next thing I knew, I was spilling the entire story of my arrival, the trouble with the utilities, the mysterious Kay-Kay, the mess inside the house, Teddy wandering off this morning.

  Mary listened and nodded, leaning closer to my chair, seeming to share the unpredictable swells of frustration and desperation.

  When I finished, she appeared to be at a loss. “I’m really sorry.”

  I slashed a hand in the air, embarrassed. If this had been a deposition, I would have been the witness who cracked and spilled my life story all over the negotiating table. My body felt rubbery, as if I’d run a marathon and burned up every ounce of fuel. “I didn’t mean to unload all of that. I’m just …” My voice cracked, my emotions so much closer to the surface than usual. What was wrong with me?

  I took a deep breath, swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” I said again, gathering my thoughts. “I have to make plans … going forward.” I tried to imagine what those plans might be. “I need to know about Hanna Beth … when … whether she’ll be able to come back here. If I hire help for them—someone to come in during the days, maybe someone to stay in the garage apartment full-time—is it possible that she’ll recover to the point of living here again?”

  Mary nodded. “I think so … she’s doing really good.”

  “How soon?”

  She shifted uncomfortably, stopped to watch Teddy and the boys capture a caterpillar by the fence. Teddy let it crawl on his hand while the boys watched. He pointed and explained something and the boys leaned closer.

  “You really might want to talk to Dr. Barn—”

  “I will, but I want to know what you think.” I knew I was being less than polite, interrogating her, trying to get the answer I wanted. I needed someone to tell me that Hanna Beth would recover, miraculously return home and take over.

  Mary knew what I was asking for. Twisting her hands nervously in her lap, she looked away, fine strands of hair catching the sunlight, teasing her cheek. “When she does come home, she’ll need a lot of help. She’ll need someone here full-time.”

  It wasn’t the answer I wanted.

  Mary turned her attention toward the house, studied the apartment over the garage, and frowned contemplatively.

  CHAPTER 10

  Hanna Beth Parker

  The evening seemed to stretch on forever as I waited to see if Mary would return with news of my house, Teddy, and Edward. My mind tensed with anticipation when the door opened, but it was only Ouita Mae, stopping by to see if I wanted to watch Wheel of Fortune and read a bit more about Gavin and Marcella.

  “Yesss,” I said, and was pleased with how clearly the word came out. When I opened my mouth, there was
never any telling.

  “Wonderful!” Ouita Mae clapped her hands, then turned on the television, and steered herself around the bed. “This chair,” she grumbled, as she tried to get situated. “I’ll be glad to get back on my feet. I spent enough years of my life cooped up in a darned wheelchair.”

  “Uhhh?” I inquired, and she blanched, as if she’d forgotten she was talking to a woman flat on her back in bed.

  “I had an accident years ago that gave me some trouble.”

  “Eeennn?” I asked, then concentrated and tried again. “W-ennn?”

  “When?” It was nice that Ouita Mae could understand me. She must have had some practice at it. Resting the book in her lap, she watched the first puzzle come on the TV screen, and her attention wavered. “A saddle horse fell with my daddy and me when I was just little, broke me up pretty good. Over the years, these old legs haven’t been quite right. Lots of surgeries, and I was never gonna run any marathons in my braces, but the doctors gave me many good years on my feet. Sometimes I think that’s why Phillip decided to be a doctor instead of a cowboy, like his granddad wanted him to be.”

  “Guuud dr-toc,” I said, then snorted at the bungled word.

  Ouita Mae understood. “Yep, he’s a good doctor, if I do say so myself.” Leaning close to the bed, she raised an eyebrow and added in a whisper, “But just between you, me, and the fencepost, I could stand to see a little less doctorin’ and a little more romancin’ from that boy. All these cute nurses making eyes at him all the time, I keep thinking he’ll find some nice girl, settle down, and make me a great-grandma—but it’d be like my own grandchild, being as we raised that boy. I’d like to bounce a little one on my knee again before I kick the bucket.”

  “Mmmm,” I said, and nodded. “Mmmeee, tuhh.” I’d tasted firsthand the bittersweet of knowing I would grow old without the pitter-patter of tiny feet in my house. After Teddy’s difficult birth, the doctors had told me I’d probably never have any more children. At least for Ouita Mae, there was still hope for a crop of great-grandkids. “Mbeee tu-sun.” It was a poor imitation of maybe soon, but Ouita Mae gathered the meaning from the unspoken language of lonely old women.

  “It better be soon,” she said. “I’m not getting any younger. Rate I’m goin’, Phillip’s babies and I’ll be in diapers together.”

  I laughed—a sound something like a donkey braying. Ouita Mae slapped my arm, said, “Oh, Lordy, I’m sorry about that,” then she laughed with me. I was struck by how good it felt to have a friend, a woman who understood how I felt. Over the years on Blue Sky Hill, there hadn’t been much time for that sort of thing. In general, other ladies weren’t interested, or it was awkward. I couldn’t blame the neighbors, the church acquaintances, the mothers from the school PTO, the wives of Edward’s coworkers, with whom I was expected to socialize. How could it be anything but awkward, sitting at the company picnic, the park, the playground, talking about grades, music lessons, cheerleading, boyfriends, girlfriends, scholarships, college, romance, marriages—all the things that go into the making of a life? How could they help but feel they were hurting me by bringing up those milestones, by indirectly pointing out that Teddy’s future would be different?

  It was good to be here with Ouita Mae, chatting as women do. I had the strange thought that I was glad I’d ended up here, that I wasn’t at home, where Edward’s state was fragile, and Teddy occupied himself in the yard talking to birds and plants, and the neighborhood was changing—the old folks selling out, new homes and condominiums going in for busy families who came and went without time or interest in socializing.

  I wasn’t lonely here… .

  As quickly as the thought came, I banished it. Of course I wanted to go home to Edward and Teddy. Of course I did.

  I turned my attention to the puzzles. Teddy loved Wheel of Fortune. He liked to watch the letters turn around and try to name them. Edward always guessed the puzzles long before I could. He was a whiz with words and always had been. Even now, he could figure out the puzzles most of the time.

  I imagined Edward and Teddy curled up in the living room watching the show, and it was almost as if we were together. I heard Teddy laughing and counting when one of the contestants made a good supposition, and several letters lit up at once. Each time that happened, Teddy clapped and cheered.

  “Oh, good one!” Ouita Mae said, and I heard Teddy exclaiming, Good one, Mama! Good one! Ouita Mae counted the letters just like he would have. “Five. My goodness. Five.” I heard Teddy cheering, Five. Five. Got five!

  When Ouita Mae solved the final puzzle of the night, I heard Edward’s voice, just as if we were all there together.

  “Well, let’s see what’s goin’ on with Gavin and Marcella.” Ouita Mae turned off the TV and opened the book, relaxing against the back of her chair, tipping her chin up so she could see through her bifocals. “These love story books have changed since back in the day. I have to say, this one’s sure got me hooked. I always did like history and sailing ships … and pirates, of course. That Errol Flynn. I’d of married him, when I was a girl.”

  “Ohhhh,” I mused in agreement, and she smiled, scanning the pages before she found our stopping place and began reading.

  The ship was passing through a storm with Gavin and Marcella clinging to the rails. In Ouita Mae’s voice, the story quickly began to find a breath of its own.

  “Well, Lordy, I got to turn the page for sure, now,” she said as we finished the chapter. “That’s interesting stuff about what a science it was to use the sextant to navigate ships. I guess if your navigator took dysentery and died like theirs did, it pretty much would be the end of the world. Good thing Marcella learned all about using a sextant, growing up in that fishing village with her uncle.” Her tone added a hint of melodrama that made me giggle deep in my throat.

  Ouita Mae’s lips twisted to one side in a reluctant, wry smile, and she leaned closer to me. “She oughta know that a man’s mind ain’t clear when his sextant’s involved, though.”

  I blushed, and my stomach convulsed around a puff of air, and the next thing I knew, I was laughing again.

  Ouita Mae shook a finger as if I were the naughty one, then she tipped back her head, squinted through her glasses, and went on reading. Marcella spent the next chapter letting the ship drift off course, too proud and stubborn to admit to Gavin that she was merely a ladies’ maid, the daughter of a fisherman, rather than the heiress he thought he’d kidnapped. By the time we’d traveled the pages of missed connections, Ouita Mae was tired, and so was I.

  “Oh, these silly young girls.” Setting down the book, she pulled off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Without the thick lenses, her eyes were so dark I couldn’t see the centers. Her grandson had her eyes.

  “Yeeesh,” I agreed. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, so determined that I could take care of myself, I wouldn’t have let Teddy’s father slip away all those years ago, after the letter came. He was out of the country then, working his first job with a fledgling oil company, beginning to make a success of his life. There were plans for him—an engagement to the granddaughter of a senator, a level of society my family could never attain. I didn’t blame him, in a way. Those who lived on Blue Sky Hill didn’t mix with those who lived off. I should have known that, should have kept it in my mind, when I left with him after working a late-night shift in one of the stores of Highland Park. It was pure chance that we crossed paths there. He was shopping for Christmas gifts, and I was working while home from college on Christmas break. We hadn’t seen each other in years, but I was smitten with him, as always, and this time I was not a girl ten years younger, too young to be of interest to him. I was a woman, old enough to know what I was doing.

  The letter from his family lawyer pointed that out in no uncertain terms—the pregnancy was my doing. Edward wanted no contact with me. Even years afterward, I’d wondered—if I’d written to Edward a third time, a fourth, a fifth, however long it took. If I’d insisted on hearing from him persona
lly, if I’d made certain those were his words rather than the words of his family, would things have been different? If Edward had been there when I went into early labor with Teddy, if he’d insisted we go right to the hospital, would Teddy be different?

  On the heels of that thought, there was always the guilty question—how could I wish for something other than what was, when I loved Teddy so much?

  Ouita Mae sighed, as if she sensed my sudden melancholy. Resting her chin on her hand, she let the glasses dangle off her finger. Her regard wandered far away, found the window, took in the stars.

  It occurred to me that Mary hadn’t returned to tell me about her visit to my house yet. She’d promised she would. I’d lost track of the time while Ouita Mae was reading.

  “It’s funny the things you wish you could go back and do different.”

  I almost didn’t hear Ouita Mae at first. My mind was elsewhere.

  “It’s little things sometimes, you know?”

  “Mmmm,” I agreed. Little things. Like a second, third, fourth letter you could have written. A swallowing of pride that might have changed everything.