What would Daddy’s Little Princess say when Mary Bliss told her Parker was gone? That he’d emptied the family coffers, left them high and dry? Gone with the wind? Never to return?
No. It was no good. She could not think of how to form the words. Abandoned. Cars were abandoned. Houses were abandoned. But not families. Not this family.
The ugly thought seeped into her head. It was happening again. Her own daddy, James Clewitt, had abandoned his family. Had told her mama he was going to Florida to look for work. Drove away in a 1968 green Ford Falcon. And that was that. Never to return.
For a long time, Nina told everybody, including Mary Bliss, that James was away, working in Florida. A big government job. When she was in the sixth grade, old enough to ask questions, Nina had sat her down and served up the truth.
“He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. I’ve done divorced him. And that’s what you need to do too. Just divorce him from your mind. You’re a big girl now, so you’re just going to have to handle it. I know you loved him. I loved him too. But the truth is, your daddy was sorry. He couldn’t help himself. He was just sorry.”
Mary Bliss set her chin. She couldn’t tell Erin what her own mother had told her. Not Erin. Parker had not only abandoned them, he’d stolen their future, which made him sorrier than her own daddy, but it wouldn’t do to tell that to Erin, who adored Parker.
No. Her only hope of preserving the life they’d so carefully built for their daughter was in taking Parker’s life. It had to be, she told herself. The insurance policy would pay off the outstanding bills, help them get on their feet. And the title insurance would pay off the mortgage on the house, in the instance of Parker’s death. So that was it. Parker was dead.
She cleaned up the kitchen, glanced at the clock again, and frowned. Close to midnight. And no sign of Erin.
Mary Bliss went to the den and switched on the television. The news was over, and David Letterman’s guest was some hip young movie star she’d never heard of. She yawned and stretched out on the sofa, willing Erin to come in the door so that she could lock up the house and get to bed. She had a long day tomorrow, what with planning Parker’s demise and all.
The den was warm. Erin was right. The air conditioning wasn’t working properly. Mary Bliss yawned and closed her eyes, just to shut out the reality pressing in around her on every side.
When she woke, David Letterman had been replaced with somebody she didn’t recognize, another talk show host interviewing another hip celebrity.
She got to her feet, went to the kitchen. It was after midnight. Twelve-forty, to be exact. Where was Erin? Had she come in while Mary Bliss was napping?
Mary Bliss checked the driveway. Erin’s car wasn’t there. She ran upstairs to Erin’s bedroom, where the rumpled bed was empty.
Her heart was pounding. In her own bedroom, Mary Bliss sat down on her bed, forced herself to think. Where could Erin be? She picked up the telephone and dialed her daughter’s cell phone number, but got no answer.
She was overreacting, she knew. If Parker had been home, that’s what he would have told her. “Calm down. She’s fine.” But Parker was gone, and her daughter was out there somewhere.
Mary Bliss went back downstairs, found her address book. She bit her lip as she dialed the Wilkersons’ phone number. But Stephanie Wilkerson was sound asleep and didn’t have a clue about Erin’s whereabouts.
Mary Bliss walked to the window and looked out across the street. No lights were on at the Bowdens’ house. But she knew Josh’s bedroom was at the back. And she knew Josh was as much a night owl as Erin was. According to Erin, Josh only needed a few hours of sleep a night. He regularly stayed up ’til three or four in the morning, talking with friends on the Internet, strumming his guitar, or reading.
Mary Bliss didn’t approve of letting a child—no matter if he was a senior in high school—stay up ’til all hours of the night. But Nancye Bowden pretty much allowed her oldest son to do whatever he liked, and Randy had never challenged her authority on raising the kids.
She knew Josh had a private phone line, and she looked in the neighborhood directory for it. There it was, Bowden, children’s phone.
She dialed it, and Josh picked up on the first ring.
“Erin?” His voice was husky.
“What?” Mary Bliss was taken aback.
“Oh,” he said. “Hi, Mrs. McGowan. I thought you were Erin. I’ve got caller ID.”
“No,” Mary Bliss said. “That’s why I’m calling. Erin’s not home yet. Her curfew’s at midnight, and it’s nearly one now, and I’m getting pretty concerned. Josh, do you have any idea where she might be at this time of night?”
“Well,” he said cautiously. “She’s been going to see a lot of movies, I know.”
“No movie gets out this late,” Mary Bliss said, getting cross. “She said she’d be with some girls from work, but I don’t know any of their names. Did she tell you who she’d be with tonight?”
Erin and Josh had become inseparable earlier in the spring. Josh and Erin had gone to school together since first grade, but Erin had always considered Josh something of a geek. That had all changed somehow after Christmas break.
Erin swore it wasn’t a boyfriend-girlfriend thing. “We’re just buddies,” she’d told Parker when he pressed her for details. “He’s like a brother, you know?”
“I forget the girl’s name,” Josh was saying. “Did you try Erin’s cell phone?”
“Yes, it must not be working right,” Mary Bliss said. “Are you sure you can’t think of anybody she might be with?”
“No, ma’am. Hey,” he said excitedly, “you want me to get in my car and go looking for her?”
“At this time of night? Your daddy would skin me alive if I sent you out like that.”
“He’s asleep,” Josh said. “Anyway, if you’re worried about Erin, you could come with me.”
“That’s all right,” Mary Bliss said. “I’ll just wait up for her. I’m sure she’ll be home pretty soon. It’s not like her to be this late.”
“Okay,” he said. “Well, good night.”
Mary Bliss went downstairs and checked the garage and the driveway again. She tried to sit down but discovered it was impossible to stay still. If she was still, she started to think about all the possibilities. Traffic in Atlanta was impossible. All those giant eighteen-wheeler tractor-trailers, and those gigantic SUVs, could mow down a little Honda like the one Erin drove and not even know it. And crime was on the upswing. Just last month, a young girl had been abducted from Phipps Plaza, the nicest mall in town. They still hadn’t found the girl’s body. Another thought occurred to her. Parker was gone. What if he’d spirited Erin away too? What if he’d abducted her only child?
She felt the sweat drying on her neck, felt suddenly chilled to the bone. No, she insisted to herself, it wasn’t possible. Parker had been gone nearly two days. Stop this nonsense. Erin was just out with her friends, having such a good time she’d forgotten all about curfews and such.
Do something, she commanded herself. Get busy. She went into the kitchen, snapped the light on. The room was already spotless. Nina had taught her to never go to bed with a messy kitchen.
But what about the refrigerator?
The shelves were crowded with half-empty jars of pickles, nearly empty bottles of salad dressings and ketchup, plastic bags full of limp vegetables.
Mary Bliss ran a plastic basin full of warm soapy water. She pulled on a pair of yellow rubber gloves, cleared everything from the shelves, and started working, scrubbing at the shelves with a plastic bristle brush, tossing out jars and bottles past their usefulness.
She was lining the salad dressings up on the door shelf when she heard the kitchen door open.
She whirled around. Erin stood there, eyes wide.
“Mama? What’s wrong? Why are you doing that?”
Her throat caught. Her child was home. She should have felt flooded with relief. Instead, she felt hot rage welling up in he
r chest.
“Erin! Do you know what time it is?”
Her daughter’s shoulders sagged. “I’m late, huh?”
“It’s two o’clock in the morning! Do you know how worried I’ve been?”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Erin said, starting toward her, setting her pocketbook on the kitchen counter. “I guess I lost track of the time.”
“Lost track?” Mary Bliss’s voice bounced off the high ceiling of the kitchen. “I thought you were dead. I thought you’d been kidnapped, or were lying on the side of a road somewhere. I’ve been out of my mind.”
Erin wrapped her arms around Mary Bliss’s neck, but her mother pulled away from the embrace.
“Where in God’s name were you at this hour of the night?”
“I told you I was going to the movies with Jessica. And to Starbucks,” Erin said, getting defensive. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
Mary Bliss peeled the rubber gloves off and flung them in the sink. “You don’t understand? You can’t think why I’d be worried when you’re two hours past curfew and you haven’t called?”
“I tried,” Erin cried. “The damned thing doesn’t work.” She pulled the cell phone out of her purse and showed it to Mary Bliss. “See? It doesn’t even get a dial tone.”
“I don’t care,” Mary Bliss said, tossing the phone back at her. “There are pay phones. Or you could have borrowed your friend’s cell phone. Just who is this Jessica? I’ve never met her. And Josh didn’t know where you were either.”
Erin’s face turned pink. “You called my friends? You were checking up on me? Mama, how could you?”
“How could you?” Mary Bliss demanded. “You know the rules. You know how I worry. I don’t even know this Jessica person’s last name.”
“It’s Lassiter. Jesus H. Christ! I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this. After Starbucks I went over to Jess’s house and we were watching a video and I lost track of time. God. You’d think I’d killed somebody.”
“Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice,” Mary Bliss snapped. “I’m your mother. And you will respect me.”
“Fine,” Erin said, her face a sullen, white mask. “Whatever. I guess I’ll just have to respect you and let you ruin my life. God, I wish Daddy were home. He never gets like this. He understands that I’m old enough to have a life.”
“That’s enough!” Mary Bliss said. Her face was on fire, her heart was beating like a snare drum, she was near tears. “Your daddy isn’t home. It’s just you and me tonight, Erin. And if you want to be treated as an adult, you’ll have to understand that it’s your responsibility to be home on time, and to let me know exactly where you are and who you’re with. You know the rules. I expect you to follow them.”
“Whatever.” Erin whirled around and stomped toward the hallway. “If you’re done now, I have to get up and work tomorrow morning.”
Mary Bliss clenched her hands at her sides. “And don’t make any plans for the rest of this week, young lady. You’re on restriction.”
“A week?” Erin shrieked. “Goddamn! I’m not believing this.”
Mary Bliss put her hands over her ears. She couldn’t listen to any more. She sank down into a kitchen chair. She could not remember another time when she had been this angry at her only child.
Looking down at the table, she saw Erin’s cell phone. Hesitating only a moment, she picked up the phone and dialed the house number. Instead of a ring, she got a recorded announcement.
“Call your service provider regarding your current account balance.”
Mary Bliss stood up, closed the refrigerator door, and went to the sink to splash cold water on her face.
She looked around the kitchen, seeking comfort in its familiar sights and smells. But nothing looked like it had looked earlier. The cold overhead lights cast harsh shadows on the room, and for the first time she saw the bits of peeling vinyl flooring, the worn paint finish on the cupboard doors, and the wallpaper seams that were coming unglued. She snapped off the light, sighed, and went upstairs.
14
Mary Bliss sat up in bed and looked wildly around the darkened room. A scratching sound was coming from the window. Instinctively, she reached over to grab Parker. She came up with a handful of pillowcase, but nothing else.
Then she remembered. His side of the bed was empty. She glanced at the neon dial of the clock radio. It was 5:45 A.M. Still dark. On a normal morning, they would both be fast asleep, but Parker would have one ear cocked for the six o’clock alarm. He’d always been an early riser.
She held her breath to see if the noise would go away. But the scratching sound continued. It was metallic, slightly hollow. She made herself count to three. Slowly, she slipped out of bed and edged over toward the window.
When she was only inches away, she saw in the half-light a fallen pine tree limb that had become snagged on the roof of the dormer window. A branch hung down and scratched against the window screen.
Nothing. It was nothing. She should go back to sleep. But she knew sleep wouldn’t come.
Mary Bliss pushed her feet into her slippers and turned on the bedroom light. Quickly, she made up the bed. Parker hated an unmade bed, and she herself had gotten used to making it the minute her feet touched the floor in the morning.
As she plumped the pillows on his side, she scolded herself for caring how they were arranged. Parker had two firm pillows, and a softer, down one, that he liked to put on top of the stack of pillows on his side of the bed. Who cared what he liked, she asked herself, punching the pillow, leaving a satisfying fist-shaped depression in it. She could leave the bed unmade all day if she liked. Commandeer his side, hog all the covers she wanted, never have to put the toilet seat down in the morning, ever again.
She sank down onto the spread and smoothed out the depression in the pillow. It was too late. After all these years, she had molded herself to Parker’s likes and dislikes, habits and tics. She could no more leave a bed unmade than she could leave a greasy pot soaking overnight in the kitchen sink. It just wasn’t in her.
She scuffed out into the hallway and saw Erin’s bedroom door ajar. She walked over and peeked inside. The clothes that Erin had been wearing the night before were strewn around the floor, along with empty Coke cans, CDs, a laptop computer, and some paperback books.
Erin had flung herself on top of her covers, wearing only a worn T-shirt over her panties. The bedspread lay in a pile on the floor at the foot of the bed. Mary Bliss stepped into the room, thinking to cover her daughter. But the air was still and hot. The air conditioning, she thought.
She bent down and kissed her daughter’s sweat-dampened hair, then went quietly out, gathering dirty clothes as she went. It was early. She could run a couple loads of laundry, read the newspaper, gather her thoughts before Erin came downstairs. She was sure her daughter would understand why her breach of curfew was such a serious issue, and they would make things up. Even laugh about the nasty fight of the night before.
After she started the first load of laundry, Mary Bliss fixed herself a cup of coffee and took it out to the front porch. She sat down in the rocker and watched again as Fair Oaks came to life.
By eight, she had washed, dried, and folded three loads of laundry. She’d read the newspaper, clipped coupons, and fixed a sack lunch for Erin, with a Tupperware container of the chili-roni and another of the salad, along with a can of Coke.
At nine, she went back outside to surreptitiously water her tomato plants. The watering ban had been announced the day before, and since her house was an even number, she wasn’t really supposed to water until tomorrow. But it was already a scorcher, and there had been no rain in days. The hell with watering restrictions, she thought, unrolling the hose and dragging it out to the fenced-in garden plot.
She knew she really should change into proper clothes, shorts, and T-shirt, and surely a pair of sneakers. But there was something deliciously subversive about gardening in her thin cotton nightgown
. Parker would hate this, her, outside, barely dressed. But she loved the cool feel of the grass on her bare feet, imagined she could hear the dry clay soil lapping up the water as she sprinkled it over the parched tomato and squash vines.
Mary Bliss was bending down to pick a clump of dandelions out of the grass when she heard a polite cough.
She stood up quickly. A man stood in the driveway, staring at her, a smile on his face.
“Mrs. McGowan?” he called.
She took two steps in his direction, then stopped and looked down at herself. Water from the hose had splashed all over her gown, making it nearly transparent. Her hands were filthy, her hair uncombed. Not to mention that she was basically undressed. Good Lord!
“Mrs. McGowan?” he called again. “Sorry to barge in on you like this.”
She held up her hand. “I’m sorry. Could you go around to the front door? Let me just dash inside and get dressed. I wasn’t expecting company this early.”
“Sure,” he said, half laughing. “Or I could come back a little later.”
“It’ll just be a minute,” Mary Bliss said. She ran-walked to the kitchen, her face in flames.
She took a look out the kitchen window and saw the car the man had come in. It was a navy-blue sedan, and there was some kind of gold shield emblazoned on the passenger-side door. It looked sort of like a police car, but not a Fair Oaks police cruiser. Those were dark green and tan. She saw the man sitting behind the wheel of the sedan, gazing off in the direction of the street.
Upstairs, she hurriedly threw on a pair of khaki slacks and a cotton blouse and tied on a pair of sneakers. She heard the sounds of the shower running in Erin’s bathroom. After she’d combed her hair and washed her face, she ran back downstairs and opened the front door.
The man was still looking out at the street, the windows of the car rolled down.
Was he a cop, Mary Bliss wondered? All the Fair Oaks cops were in their early to mid-twenties. This man was much older, with blonde hair streaked with silver. His face was tanned, ruddy, even, and she could see he wore a neatly trimmed beard. He wore dark sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes. He looked vaguely familiar.
Little Bitty Lies Page 7