The Future She Left Behind

by Marin Thomas

  “Oh, really?” Birdie looked at Katelyn. “Do you want to stay married to Don?”

  Katelyn spoke to Shirley. “You have to bag your own groceries here.” Then without another word Katelyn took her food and left the store.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Where’s Katelyn?” Shirley’s voice echoed into the opening of the attic, where Katelyn was searching through boxes of mementos Sunday evening. She wanted to find the teddy bear Jackson had given her the night before she’d left for college. To hold if you get lonely and miss me.

  “I don’t know.” Birdie’s voice drifted from the kitchen. Her mother knew exactly where Katelyn was—she’d sent her up to the attic to look for the stuffed animal.

  “It was very rude of you to bad-mouth my son in public,” Shirley said.

  “But it’s okay if you offend my daughter?”

  Katelyn crept closer to the attic door. The two women were still arguing about the grocery store incident two days later.

  “I was offering constructive criticism.”

  “This is my home, Shirley. If you can’t be respectful of my daughter . . . there’s the door.” Birdie had put on her boxing gloves.

  “I’m not condoning my son’s behavior, but I can understand where he might have been tempted to stray.”

  A deathly silence followed Shirley’s statement and Katelyn put one foot on the top step of the ladder, prepared to intervene if her mother went ballistic.

  “Cheating is cheating.” A loud squeak echoed below. Birdie had opened the pantry door—was she searching for the schnapps?

  “I’ve told Katelyn for years to try a new hairstyle. Something classy. Maybe a sleek bob.”

  “And what have you told your son to do to improve himself?” A loud thud—like the sound of a liquor bottle banging against the countertop—followed Birdie’s question. “The last time I saw Don, he was sporting a spare tire around the middle, and his hairline had receded another inch.”

  Go, Mom.

  “Don works long hours so he can provide for his family. He doesn’t have time to exercise like Katelyn does.”

  “My daughter doesn’t have time to exercise, either. She’s too busy babysitting you.”

  Laughter bubbled up inside Katelyn and she pressed her hand against her mouth to keep it from escaping.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “You should be begging Katelyn’s pardon for being a burden on her the past few years.”

  Birdie had gone for the jugular.

  “I have not been a burden.”

  “How can you say that when my daughter has to chauffeur you around town and watch your every move because you’re growing forgetful?”

  The spat was turning ugly. Katelyn descended the ladder and walked into the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

  Birdie pointed a finger at Shirley, who stood next to the back door, looking poised to run. “Ms. Prissy Pants is slandering you.”

  Shirley’s pencil-thin eyebrows arched. “Slandering?”

  “You didn’t think I knew what the word slandering meant, did you?”

  “Mom, take it down a notch. It’s been a long day and we’re all tired.”

  “I am tired.” Birdie stamped her foot. “Tired of watching you let your mother-in-law run your life.”

  “A life your daughter could only dream of before she married my son.”

  Steam spewed from Birdie’s ears. “Is that what you dreamed of, Katelyn—big houses, expensive cars and fancy vacations? I thought your dream was to be an artist.”

  “I need a drink.” Katelyn poured a splash of schnapps into a glass and finished it off in one swallow. The way things were going with this visit, she’d need to make a liquor run and stock up on the happy juice.

  “If Katelyn hadn’t married Don, she’d still be stuck”—Shirley spread her arms wide—“in this awful place.”

  “Stuck?” Birdie glared.

  Shirley spoke to Katelyn. “I think we should leave.”

  Birdie called Shirley’s bluff. “Go right ahead. No one’s stopping you.”

  Katelyn was torn. She felt sorry for her mother-in-law because Shirley was still reeling from Don casting her aside, and at the same time she was grateful to Birdie for defending her.

  “Let’s call a truce. No more talk about the divorce while we’re here.” Katelyn glanced between the mothers. “Agreed?”

  Shirley grimaced.

  “Fine.” Birdie fetched a third glass from the cupboard and poured an inch of liquor in it, then handed it to Shirley before refilling her own glass and Katelyn’s. “To keeping our mouths shut.” Birdie tossed back her shot. Katelyn followed suit; then Shirley plugged her nose and took a sip.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, are you a teetotaler?”

  Shirley wheezed. “I prefer a nice glass of chardonnay.”

  “I don’t drink expensive wine. You’d better get used to hard liquor.”

  Shirley shuddered.

  “Gary Gifford makes white lightning for the holidays. I could see if he has any jugs left in his shed from last Christmas.”

  “Mom, I don’t think Shirley—”

  “Your mother-in-law can decide for herself what she wants to drink.”

  Truce or no truce, Katelyn didn’t dare leave the two women alone again. “I can’t find the box of books I left behind when I went off to college. Will you help me look?”

  Shirley set her glass on the counter. “If you want to talk about me behind my back, say so. I’ll be in my room.”

  “Katelyn’s room.”

  Shirley paused in the doorway. “Pardon?”

  “It’s Katelyn’s room, not yours,” Birdie said.

  Shirley walked off without a word.

  Katelyn waited for the stairs to stop creaking before she spoke. “You were a little rough on her.”

  Billowing tendrils of smoke still leaked from Birdie’s ears. “Do you need my help in the attic or not?”

  “I do.”

  Birdie climbed the ladder, then crouch-walked across the space and sat on a crate of vintage Field & Stream magazines. “It’s hotter than Hades up here. If you want to look through all this crap, you should come back in October and do it.”

  “Mom, you need to lay off Shirley.”

  “She’s your mother-in-law, not mine.”

  “It’s not like you to be mean.”

  Birdie grimaced. “You’re my daughter. I’m the only one who should get to cut you down.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I appreciate you sticking up for me, but give me some credit for having learned how to handle Shirley after all these years.”

  “Maybe so, but I wish you wouldn’t allow her to run roughshod over you.”

  “Half of what Shirley says goes in one ear and out the other.”

  “What happens when it doesn’t?”

  “I get even.”

  Birdie snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  Katelyn lowered her voice. “Promise never to tell a soul, not even the ladies in your bridge group?”

  “Not tell them what?”

  “Last year the president of the community arts organization called the house to tell me that he was nominating me as his successor. Shirley answered the phone and said I wasn’t interested in the position and that they should offer the job to someone else.”

  “That was bitchy.”

  “I didn’t find out about the call until one of the members mentioned it at a meeting and said what a shame it was that I had turned down the job.”

  “How did you get even with Shirley?”

  “I made her favorite meat loaf recipe with canned cat food.”

  Birdie whooped. “There’s hope for you yet, daughter.”

  “I still fee
l horrible about it.”

  “She got off lucky with cat food. I would have used arsenic.”

  “Seriously, Mom. Can you please try to be patient with Shirley?”

  “She shouldn’t even be here. She’s Don’s responsibility, not yours.”

  “Once she moves into her new apartment, Don will have to step up,” Katelyn said.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “If you want us to leave, I understand.”

  “No.” Birdie wiped the sweat from her brow. “I’ll try to watch my temper.”

  That was all Katelyn could ask of her mother. “We should sort through this stuff and purge the attic.” She nudged a cardboard box with the toe of her sandal. “I think it’s safe to shred your 2001 tax returns.” She opened the box and pushed aside the balled-up newspaper. “Wait a minute. These aren’t tax returns.”

  Katelyn pulled out her sketch pad from junior high school and flipped through the images. “You saved all my projects?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I didn’t think you and Dad cared that much about my art.”

  Birdie sat up straight. “Why would you say that?”

  “You two never came to any of the shows at school.”

  “Your father and I both worked.”

  “You could have asked for the time off.” Katelyn had been the only student without a parent in attendance when her drawing of Mack received first place in the senior art competition.

  “Jackson was there.”

  Katelyn’s boyfriend had always been there. She closed the sketch pad, slamming the door on the memories of the promises she and Jackson had made to each other their senior year. Promises Katelyn had turned her back on when she’d left for college. She dug through the box and found a charcoal drawing of the railroad tracks across town.

  “When I saw that, I knew for sure you were leaving.” Birdie flashed a tired smile. “I didn’t blame you for wanting to go far away to college, but I do regret not spending more time with you growing up.”

  Katelyn hadn’t been the best daughter after she’d gone off to school. Maybe they both should call it even and forget the past.

  “Shirley’s right about one thing,” Birdie said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’s job allowed you to stay home and be involved in the kids’ lives.” Birdie pursed her lips and stared, eyes unblinking.

  Yes, Katelyn had been involved in all of the twins’ activities, but that hadn’t been the plan in the beginning. After marrying Don, she’d become pregnant right away and then taking care of two babies had exhausted her, leaving little time to nurture her creative side. When Michael and Melissa entered kindergarten, Don’s career had taken off. He’d begun traveling more, leaving her as the sole caretaker. Each year Katelyn planned to start sketching, but when she set up her easel and opened her paints, she couldn’t muster any enthusiasm.

  Katelyn glanced up and found her mother studying her. “What?”

  “You don’t seem all that broken up over your impending divorce.”

  “It hasn’t sunk in yet.”

  “You’re not in love with Don, are you?”

  “No.” In the beginning Katelyn had believed she loved Don, but now she admitted that love had been rooted in what he’d represented more than the man himself.

  “Prissy Pants thinks there’s still a chance you and her son will reconcile.”

  “She’ll accept the truth once she speaks with Don.”

  Birdie sucked in a deep breath. When she exhaled, her shoulders slumped forward. “Life is going by too fast, and I’m on the downhill side.”

  “You’re turning sixty next week, not eighty.”

  “I know, but you live so far away, and my grandkids are off to college. I hardly ever see them.”

  “Now that I don’t have Shirley to take care of, you and I will do more things.”

  “Sure.” Birdie seemed unimpressed with Katelyn’s pledge. “Where will you live?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You could move back to Little Springs. Or Odessa if you want to be in a larger town.”

  Katelyn rebelled at the suggestion. Why would she want to return to the place she’d been eager to escape growing up? “Wherever I land, I’ll have a room for you when you come to visit.”

  Birdie rubbed her fingers, her knuckles popping. “I need a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Will you take my shifts at the store while you’re here?”

  “And leave you alone with Shirley?” Katelyn laughed. “I’d have to spend my entire share of the divorce settlement to pay a lawyer to defend you against murder charges.”

  “Prissy Pants is a pain in the ass, but I wouldn’t touch a hair on her head.”

  “Stop calling her names.”

  Birdie grinned. “Her cheeks turn red when I insult her. The woman can dish it out, but she can’t take it.”

  “Which is why you shouldn’t be saddled with her all day.”

  “At least I don’t let her walk all over me.”

  Katelyn ignored the dig.

  “The truth is,” Birdie said, “I could use a break from Abby and Layla. All those girls do is bitch about their lives.”

  Katelyn attempted to decipher the truth behind her mother’s words. Did she really need time away from her coworkers, or was she worn-out after years of standing on her feet in front of a register?

  “Walter said it was okay.”

  Birdie must be serious about taking a breather from her job if she’d already spoken to her boss. “What would you and Shirley do all day?”

  “I’ll introduce her to the Little Springs Ladies’ Society and show her how we do culture in West Texas.”

  As much as Katelyn worried about leaving Shirley at Birdie’s mercy, this was a chance to do something for her mother—a step toward renewing their mother-daughter bond. Honestly, it would be nice to spend a few hours a day away from her mother-in-law. A win-win for everyone, except maybe Shirley.

  “When do I start?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Fifty-three cents is your change.” Katelyn dropped the money into the older man’s trembling palm, then folded his knobby fingers over the coins to keep them from spilling onto the floor.

  “Gracias.”

  She smiled and watched him shuffle out the door.

  Abby Wilkes set aside the magazines she’d been stocking in the display case at the front of the store. “I think Mr. Flores has a crush on you.”

  “Mr. Flores is old enough to be my grandfather.” Katelyn glanced at the clock on the wall. Two p.m. “Is it always this slow on a Monday?” In high school she’d worked weekends during the summer and the store had been crowded with campground people staying at the lake.

  “Mondays are the slowest,” Abby said.

  Katelyn took a swig from the bottle of water beneath the counter. “How long have you worked here?” She couldn’t remember if Birdie had mentioned Abby during any of their phone conversations, which covered the kids, the weather and not much else.

  Abby waved a hand in the air. “I don’t know if Birdie told you, but my mother passed away right before Christmas. I took a leave of absence from my job in Dallas to come stay with my dad.” She expelled a deep sigh. “But I didn’t expect to still be here six months later.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What do you do in Dallas?”

  “I’m a public relations manager for Milligan Natural Gas.”

  “Corporate America is stressful.” Not only for the employee but for the employee’s family.

  “I love working under pressure.” Abby’s eyes lit up. “I’m an adrenaline junkie. Deadlines fuel my creativity.�
��

  Katelyn envied her coworker. It had been so long since she’d experienced a hunger to nurture her passion. Only when she’d painted had her body, mind and spirit felt in tune. Colors appeared richer, sounds stronger, touches warmer. It had been ages since she’d felt her fingers tingle with the urge to pick up a paintbrush.

  “I’m dying a slow death in this town. If I don’t escape soon, I’ll tie myself to the railroad tracks and put an end to my misery.”

  Katelyn laughed. “Have you told your father you miss your job?”

  “If I mention returning to Dallas, he has a fake panic attack. When I call his bluff, he gets tears in his eyes and then I feel horrible.”

  “How long has your family lived in Little Springs? I don’t remember the Wilkes name.”

  “My parents moved to town right after I left for college and Dad took over as minister for Grace Community Church. I’ve never lived here, only visited.”

  “I can see how life in a town of less than three thousand people would be difficult after living in a large city.”

  “It’s not that I just miss my job, but I feel like my life is slipping away. I devoted my twenties to my career and have no regrets, but I’m thirty-three now and I’d like to marry and have a family. When I tell my father that, he thinks I’m still twelve and says I have plenty of time.”

  “You might have to show a little tough love and leave.” Who was she to give advice on handling parents? She’d allowed Shirley to bulldoze her for years while ignoring Birdie’s needs.

  “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that,” Abby said.

  “Would your dad be willing to move to Dallas?”

  “I can’t ask him to leave. His support group is here.”

  “Support group?”

  “My father’s been a recovering alcoholic since I was in kindergarten. When my mother died, he fell off the wagon.”

  “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t think he has the urge to drink anymore, but he’s using the threat to keep me here.”

  “Parents can be stubborn. So can in-laws.”

  “I’d put up with an interfering mother-in-law any day in exchange for finding a decent man to marry.” Abby lowered her voice. “Did your husband really file for a divorce?”