After the ceremony, he began packing the backseat of the car with covered dishes, a small cooler of frozen foods, two baked pies, and something George didn't recognize at first. It was dark and the bulk in his hand felt unfamiliar. While Piper said goodbye and people milled about, he slipped in the driver's seat and turned on the overhead light. He felt for the bulk behind him on the floorboard and brought it to his lap. Pulling the strings, he unraveled the cloth bag. Inside was a folded piece of paper and something wrapped in a small towel. He unfolded the cloth and pulled out a Colt .45. He released the magazine and found two bullets in it. He rechecked the safety and slipped it back in the bag. He turned off the light, reached in the glove compartment for a mini flashlight and shined it on the small piece of paper.
.
Here's your justice.
Don't wait for God.
He's not there for you.
Signed,
A Friend
.
He folded the note, placed it back in the bag, and jumped when the door opened.
Piper slipped in beside him. "I've had enough," she whispered to him. "Take me home." George watched her wipe her forehead with the back of her hand and slump against the seat. "I can't take this anymore." He clasped her hand.
"I know. We're going home." He pushed his heel against the bulk under the seat, making sure it was out of sight.
Later, Piper splashed water on her puffy face and he handed her a towel. Patting the towel across her cheeks and hanging it on the rack, she unhooked her robe from the bathroom door and slipped her arms through the sleeves. George turned her to him and tied the strings at her waist before walking in the bedroom.
He sat on the bed, pulled his boots off, and turned the covers down. He slipped his shirt over his head and unzipped his jeans.
"I need more pills to help me sleep; I'm about out," Piper said, following him in.
"Already? You just got those. How many are you taking?"
"As many as I'm supposed to take, George," he heard her say. She turned off the bathroom light and shards of silver from the moon shone through the blinds. George watched her find her way in the semi-darkness.
"Then why are you almost out? You've only been on them for...five days now." He folded the blanket down for her and sat up. "What's going on? Five days doesn't equal almost gone."
George thought she might tell him about her constant doses of medication, but it wasn't her way. All her life she had been responsible and honest. Not one to make bad decisions because of her analytical mind, she carried her pride like a tailored cloak, he thought. She had been taught to remain strong, in fact, had to be strong. His wife kept her darkest truths to herself and seldom did she let anyone in. George knew she simply did not want to admit she had a problem.
Before Piper could answer, George got out of bed and turned on the light.
"Where are you going?"
"Forgot to check the front door, see if it's locked. Be right back."
George turned a small key to a decorative lamp and the light popped on. Finding the small cooler on the floor in the kitchen, he opened it and removed the cloth bag that held the gun. Looking around for a place to put it, he headed down the hall to the spare bedroom. He would find a place in there. He didn't want Piper to know of this, not yet. He thought of taking it to the sheriff but figured it could wait. He did wonder what he would do with it if confronted with anyone who hurt Fellow. This remained on his mind more than alerting the law.
"Why the big pillow?" Piper asked when he returned. George noticed the distinct slur in her voice.
"I forgot this was in the spare bedroom closet. You might like this one better, let's try it." He fluffed it behind her and she lay back. "Might sleep better now." But he knew she was almost knocked out already because of her sleeping pills.
George didn't sleep that night. His wife snored in gentle beats beside him, oblivious for a while to her anguish. They would both have to get up early tomorrow, startled by a ringing phone, or a knock at the door, only to answer and find a neighbor standing there, or a friend, offering support or food or a trip to the store for them. George would say thank you and Piper would cry and have to go lay down. But now George couldn't get to sleep. He sweated and kicked off the covers, then, turning cold, sank down in them again. Once he got up and went for a drink of water from the kitchen sink. He frowned at the white stark world outside. The glistening of the snow from the street lamp seemed out of place, too pristine. He tiptoed down the hall, careful not to wake his wife. He thought again of the gun in the spare bedroom, hidden at the top of the closet.
***
Minerva found the cord under an unwrapped gift, plugged in the tree and stepped back to observe the twinkling lights. She counted the gifts: two wrapped, three unwrapped. She bent and picked up a flimsy box without a lid. Searching through Wal-Mart shopping bags on the floor in her room, she found the lid, some tape and bows, and a gift tag. Smiling to herself, she stretched the last piece of tape across the bottom of the blue angel paper and selected a bow. This one is pretty, she thought, head turning with each twist of the silver bow between both thumbs and forefingers. She peeled the back and stuck it in the middle of Walter's gift. Rising to her feet, she thought about what she would wear.
After days of sitting in silence and darkness, Minerva had opened the windows and let the crisp air break the staleness. She called Walter, realizing she'd missed him, and he said he'd come over. Now she looked around the trailer and decided she should straighten up and clean. She certainly didn't want Walter cleaning her kitchen again.
Walter appeared in the early afternoon carrying a single yellow rose. Minerva snipped the end and stuck the bud over her ear. She motioned for him to sit with her on the couch. Their lunch covered the coffee table: hot tamales, still steaming in their corn husks, a bowl of hot sauce and a basket of tortilla chips. She had pineapple ice cream for dessert waiting for them in the freezer.
"Well, no harm in asking them to come for Christmas Eve dinner," Walter said to her after eating the last bite of ice cream and watching the daily horror movie on TV. "Would do you all some good at this time. You are family." Minerva watched him lift Lew off his lap and set her on the floor. She leaned in and blew out a candle. The smell of butterscotch was everywhere and it gave her a slight headache.
Minerva smoothed her purple knit sweater with the silver studs around the V-neck and a stitched reindeer in the center. She had made this for herself several years ago and wore it every year since. "I don't think they'd come over. They won't care about it being almost Christmas Eve, not now." Minerva cast her eyes downward, the peach powder she had applied earlier sunk into the lines on her face. "They think I had something to do with it, you know."
Walter turned her face to his and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Did they say so?" The gesture struck a soft spot in her and her eyes welled. "I can't believe they'd say that about you."
Minerva turned her head and his hand fell to his side. "Well, they didn't exactly say that, but they think it. The cops talked to me for hours the other day, and Piper...hell, she almost beat my door in trying to get to me. I was afraid of her."
"I'm so sorry about that. It's probably her nerves. A terrible situation you all are in. Have they heard anything?"
"Nothing." Minerva sniffed and Walter handed her a tissue. "At this point, it ain't looking good."
"Is there anything I can do?"
Minerva looked at snowflakes on the window then glanced down at the purple sweater. She had draped a multi-colored shawl over her shoulders to disguise the lumps her bra made on her back. These polyester pants were killing her, too. She had already kicked off her kitten-heel shoes, and when Walter went to the bathroom after dessert, she discreetly tore open a corn adhesive and secured it on her toe.
"There's nothing," she said. "They're doing everything they can." She glanced up at him before looking down. "That sheriff may be talking with you, too."
She felt Wa
lter's eyes on her but didn't look up.
"Piper won't come over here for dinner, not now," Minerva said again. She still looked away, avoiding Walter's gaze. "Would you like some hot cocoa?"
"Let me help you." They both stood and walked to the kitchen.
Minerva chose two mugs from the cabinet. Walter stepped in front of Minerva and stopped, taking her by the arms. "Call them. You should do this."
A high-pitched sound escaped her lips. "You got to be joking. I told you, they think I did it."
She saw Walter's face crumble into a frown and Minerva caught herself. "I mean, they think I had something to do with Fellow being gone. How can I ask them over here with that hanging in the air?"
Walter turned as if he didn't know how to reply, smiled at her, and reached in his pocket. "I have something for you. Since I won't be here for Christmas, I figured I'd give it to you now. I know it's not the best of times to be giving gifts, but I thought this would at least make you smile. Here, let's sit down."
Minerva was content with the turn of conversation and giggled while she unwrapped the box. She patted her teased hair and glanced shyly at Walter. A silver bracelet with a small turquoise stone shined up at her. Minerva's breath caught and a hand went to her chest. "Oh, my."
"The turquoise is real," Walter said, pointing at the stone. "Go ahead, try it on." Minerva pushed the bracelet onto her wrist and held it at arm's length. "Looks good on you," he said.
Minerva clapped her hands. "I have a gift for you, too." She shuffled to the tree and came back with Walter's gift. "This is cheap compared to what you got me."
Her hands covered her mouth while she watched Walter lift the polo shirt from the flimsy box. "I hope you like orange. There's something else there, under the wrapper."
Walter set the shirt on his leg and Minerva moved it to her lap. He unfolded the tissue paper and lifted the gift from the box. "Good Lord, what a tie." He chuckled and looked at Minerva. "Must say I don't have a Tweety bird tie."
"And look," she said, taking the tie, "he's holding a Christmas wreath." She looped the tie around the back of his neck, leaving it untied. "Or is it a she?"
Walter laughed again, hands adjusting the tie. "Who knows?"
Minerva tilted her head at him. "Thank you for the bracelet. It's real pretty. All of this, the gifts, your company...helps brighten things up just a bit."
***
Minerva decided to call George and invite them over after all. She didn't think they'd come, but it being Christmas Eve, he said they would. It was the Day family tradition they meet the day before Christmas for dinner.
The air in the room was heavy and gray when Piper and George arrived and silently hung up their coats. Minerva wrung her hands and coughed. This could be the most awkward Christmas get-together they'd ever had, she thought, even more than that one year when Henry had diarrhea during all of dinner and kept rushing to the bathroom. Minerva had been annoyed. She thought he could at least control it during the holidays, for God's sake. Then she felt guilty for the thought and hugged on him extra after dinner. That was so long ago, maybe even before Della. "The bird will be ready in an hour," she said, her fists unclenching.
She saw Piper nod and George keep his eyes glued to the TV. "How about gifts?" Minerva asked. "George, I found you something I think you'd like." Minerva noticed her daughter's dour expression. She attempted to smile but it proved difficult.
"I don't believe that's appropriate, Mother," Piper said after a long silence. "I just don't understand how you can think about gifts right now." Minerva saw George squeeze her shoulder and it seemed to urge her on. "In fact, I don't know how you can even cook and eat right now." Piper's voice trembled and she shook her head. "I don't feel good, Momma. I can't eat and I won't celebrate today. How can anyone...?" Piper crumbled under George's arm and Minerva stood there, mouth agape.
Minerva looked at George, his face registering sympathy. "We're just not ready for this today," he said. "We appreciate—"
Minerva waggled her fingers at them. "Oh, I understand, but everyone needs to eat." She bobbed her head toward Piper. "Piper, I know you're mad at me. I was here the other day when you beat the door like a mad woman."
"Why didn't you answer the door then if you had nothing to hide?" Piper's eyes widened and Minerva watched her eyes scan the room, looking in the direction of the bedrooms. Minerva thought it was because she wasn't used to confronting her mother. She caught George's eyes darting to her daughter's.
"Now, Piper," George said. "Let's not do this right now."
"No, let her say what she wants, she will anyhow," Minerva said. She lumbered up and pointed a finger at Piper. "Go on, say what you mean, Audrey Piper, you always have."
"Oh Lord," Piper said, jumping up eye to eye with Minerva. "You have some nerve... Look at you..." Piper's voice trailed off. She looked over her mother's clothes. Minerva had worn her traditional red cotton dress, the one with the vee-neck. "Look at that dress," Piper continued. "How dare you dress like that for this occasion. There's no occasion. My son is gone and you want to celebrate. What's wrong with you?" She wrung her hands and her knees folded toward each other. "This is messed up."
George encircled his wife and helped her to the couch. "Sit down, honey. You need to calm down now." He sat down beside her.
Minerva lunged and grabbed Piper's sweater with both hands. "How dare you accuse me of doing anything to that boy!" Minerva's face was inches from Piper's. "God damn you, you're nothing but a trouble maker."
"Let go!" George said, pulling Piper from her mother's grasp. "Stop, Minerva. This is enough."
Minerva saw Piper yank away from George and rise to her feet. "You let something happen to Fellow. You should have taken care of him," Piper said. Minerva stepped back, eyes burning embers. "You should have watched him."
"I did watch him, Piper, you weren't there. You don't know what I did." Minerva poked herself in the chest. "I never let him out of my sight."
Time stopped in Minerva's head while the image of Fellow by the bathroom sink sprang from the shadowy recesses of her memory. She had turned to see him before closing the stall door and he stood there, large eyes fixed on the faces of the chattering women, his innocent face not foreshadowing what was to come. One woman smiled and patted his curls, maybe said something sweet to him while she dried her hands. Fellow turned and grinned into the mirror, just when she had shut the door.
Minerva snapped and turned to Piper. "Now you listen to me. I won't have you accusing me of anything. And wait, George," she said, her words forced. "No leaving yet. You sit back and you listen to me, too."
She saw Piper's fingers curl into claws. She had never seen her daughter look so distraught. "Then where is my son? What did you do with him?"
Minerva swung her hand toward Piper's cheek and felt George's firm grip on her arm, twisting it down by her side. "No hitting, god damn it," he said. "Piper, get your coat."
"Let go of me," Minerva said, squirming her hand from his grasp, her nose bright red. "I'll call the cops."
Piper's arms cradled herself, shoulders shaking, until she calmed. "I've got to know. I have to know everything," Piper said. Minerva rubbed her wrist and stared at her daughter.
"No, you don't." George extended an arm to his wife and she pushed him off. "We need to leave now. Let the cops handle this, remember what the sheriff said." Piper ignored him and Minerva kept her eyes on Piper. How did it ever come to this?
"What did the cops say?" Minerva asked. "Who's been talking about me?"
Minerva limped to the recliner and watched Piper take a seat on the couch opposite her. "I need your help, Momma." She looked at the begging face of her daughter and her heart settled for a moment. She always thought Piper was beautiful, but too damned vulnerable. This was not a family trait she inherited from her mother. "Were you mad at him? Did he do something wrong?"
Minerva crossed one bare ankle over the other. The chair creaked as she rocked. She could hear her own breathi
ng, the ticking of the clock. Her mind popped back to Fellow's face, the last time she saw him.
"Mother?"
Minerva's steel gaze bore into Piper. She rose and ambled to the window, her footsteps quiet on the stained carpet. Her eyes searched the eerie gray air of the evening, which seemed to slip through the cracks and cover the room. Minerva's heels then rotated toward the kitchen. "I've got to check the turkey." She pulled on two oversized oven mitts and lifted the bird, placed it on the stove, removed a mitt, and turned off the oven.
"I only have one thing to say," she said, keeping her words deliberate. She watched Piper sit as if frozen.
"I did not harm that boy."
Minerva thought she saw relief cross her daughter's features. "I didn't accuse you, but—" Piper said, her voice gruff.
"You shut up or I'll—" Minerva stopped in the middle of the kitchen and placed her hands on her hips. She was wrong about Piper looking relieved.
"Or you'll what?" Piper asked. Minerva saw her glance at her husband standing by the front door.
"I'm warning you," she said, entering the living room and moving toward Piper. Her stocky frame loomed over her daughter. Piper rose to face her.
Minerva Day Page 12