by Diana Palmer
Nettie replaced the photo. Next to it on the shelf was the plaster mask of Tucker.
As carefully as if she were handling Limoges, Nettie picked up the heavy mask. Brian had crafted it to look like Tucker was smiling. “Number one in a series,” he’d promised as she’d withdrawn the mask from a gift box he’d wrapped for her birthday. She’d loved it then; she loved it now. Gently, she turned the mask over. Tucker Ecklund, Brian had written into the plaster. Thirty Months.
For just a moment, she held the mask close to her heart. It was her most precious keepsake, the only thing she could say she truly treasured, a memento of a life measured in months. On the emptiest of afternoons, she could glance at the mask and the expression Brian had captured so well and be instantly transported to the giggle-laced days and cuddle-filled nights of Tuck’s babyhood. Just that quickly Nettie could recall all the dear pedestrian dreams she had held for her family. She had never wanted the moon, only a growing collection of sweetly average tomorrows.
Setting the mask back on its stand, Nettie wished briefly that she could resume painting. Working on Tucker’s birthday had become a habit, a way to keep from feeling or thinking too much. But Colin was outside, riding his bike, and Lilah was puttering down the driveway in their ancient car, which meant it was time for Nettie to take over.
The first couple of hours’ baby-sitting went pretty well, Nettie thought. Colin rode his bike into town while she followed on foot. The sky had gone unseasonably overcast, but the weather was still hot, so they stopped for a cool drink and a snack at the bakery. On the way home, they watched Ina Petty’s schnauzer piddle on Lois Johnson’s pink plastic flamingo and fed bits of Colin’s doughnut to two flickertail squirrels that grabbed the food and chased each other up an American elm.
When they returned to the house, Colin asked if they could go to Nettie’s studio to pick out a book to read.
“I like your books,” he said as he stomped up the stairs ahead of her.
“Thanks, buddy.” She laughed at the huge, roundhouse-style steps he took, clearly playing out some mini-adventure in his mind.
“You choose,” she said, leading him to the bookshelf while she went to collect the paint-splotched rags she had used that morning. “My last book was set on a deserted island. Kind of like ‘Gilligan’s Island.’ My sisters and I watched that show all the time when we were kids. We used to make up skits and take turns playing all the characters. Have you ever seen that show? I think they still play it on classic TV.”
Nettie turned to see Colin standing on tiptoe, reaching for the life mask of Tucker, a look of pure fascination on his face.
“Oh, Colin, don’t!” In a knee-jerk reaction, she rushed to him. “Don’t play with that, honey!” She stayed his hand. “It’s not a toy.”
Colin stepped back in confusion. “What is it?”
“It’s called a life mask.”
Interest lit Colin’s eyes. “A mask? Like the kind you wear on Halloween?”
“No, not like that.” Mentally fatigued, Nettie wondered if suggesting a nap would land like a lead balloon. Sighing, she searched for an impersonal explanation. “This isn’t the kind of mask you play with. It’s a keepsake. Something you put up just to look at. Like collecting baseball cards.”
“You can play with baseball cards.”
“Right. Well, there are some things you keep, but don’t play with.”
“Why?”
“Because some things would break too easily if you played with them.”
He looked at the mask. “Is it expensive?”
“No. But it’s very special to me.” Hoping he was ready for a change in topic, she pulled three books off the shelf, two of hers and one by an author from South Dakota, someone whose work was particularly imaginative. With any luck, Colin’s interest would be engaged, and she could take a little breather. Beneath fatigue, Nettie felt a mounting restlessness.
“Here,” she said, handing Colin the books. “Let’s go downstairs and read.”
He wriggled close to her on the couch, asking first that she read to him and then choosing to read aloud on his own. Constant motion made his thin body feel warm; the skin on his arms was child-soft, as it would be for a few more years. Focusing on the printed words as Colin read, Nettie couldn’t help but notice how good it felt to sit like this at the end of a long day.
Abruptly, in the middle of a page, Colin interrupted himself to announce, “My dad says we’re moving to New York soon.”
“R…really.” So Chase had decided definitely then? Colin’s legs fidgeted a little against Nettie’s. “You’ll like New York, I’m sure,” she said, forcing an enthusiasm she didn’t feel. “Have you ever been there?”
“No. They got the Statue…the Statue…” Colin frowned. “A statue of a really big lady.”
“The Statue of Liberty.” Nettie smiled. “You’ll like seeing that, I bet.”
Colin shrugged. “I like it here,” he said in voice that was small and hopeful. “How come we can’t stay here?”
Taking a deep breath, praying for words that would soothe a child who had said too many goodbyes in his life already, Nettie put an arm around his shoulders. “Your dad needs to live in the city, because that’s where his job is. He wants to take care of you really, really well, and to do that he has to work.”
“He could work here. He could be a sheriff, like Sara,” Colin obviously thought he’d hit on the perfect solution, “Or…somethin’…like Nick. Then we wouldn’t have to move! I like coming here. You smell good and Sara knows how to shoot guns and Lilah says she’s goin’ to be in a movie someday, and I can go see it for free. And I like helpin’ you paint books ‘n’ plant the flowers. If I go, who’ll water the flowers?”
Oh, Colin, Colin, she thought, don’t do this. Not now, not today. I don’t want to cry until after you’ve gone.
Taking the book from which he’d been reading, Nettie set it on her own lap and focused on the pictures, turning pages slowly, calming her breathing before she replied. “I’ll water them.” But she knew that from now on visiting the cottage would elicit a host of memories that could do little more than add to the longing in her soul.
“You can ride in cars that are underground in New York,” he said, brightening a bit before remembering, “Sara said she’d teach me to slingshoot.”
Tough as Sara was, or pretended to be, Nettie knew her sister had fallen for Colin hook, line and sinker. She even referred to him now as “Little Deputy.”
“Maybe there’ll be time before you go.”
Colin shrugged. Silently, he sat for a moment, looking at his knees.
Nettie’s eyes blurred. Images of a dozen future events in Colin’s life tried to crowd her mind. And she was there in every vision…she and Chase.
“I love being with you, too,” she said, even as she tried to press the yearning aside. Concentrate on the reality. Concentrate on the reality and try to minimize the pain. “But New York is such an exciting place. After you’ve been there awhile, you’ll know so many people and you’ll have so much to do, why, I bet you won’t have time to think about us much at all!” Cheerful words. Empty words. True for him, probably, over time, but a bald lie for her.
She would think about Colin every day and when she did, she would picture Chase. She would remember what the first stirrings of desire had felt like, how her body had awakened again under his gaze and his touch, and how, despite her best efforts, love had awakened again, too.
Nettie realized that in the off-guard moments when she remembered and pictured him and felt him, she would feel her loneliness afresh, but it would be a pain she could handle. The knowledge that Chase and Colin were alive and well somewhere would help her handle it. And someday…maybe soon…Chase would marry and have more babies and then Nettie would stop thinking about him altogether…well, mostly. There would be no more use of dreaming once he moved on. The only pain she’d have to deal with then would be the one she’d already grown used to: emptiness.
The top of Colin’s head invited her to press a soft kiss in his bountiful hair. She kept the touch light and doubted he’d even felt it.
“Looks like it’s getting kind of rainy out,” she murmured, searching for a diversion. “Want to make cookies with me?” Leaning in, she indulged herself by holding him close in a hug. “When Lilah comes back, we’ll have a snack ready for her. She’ll probably be hungry after gallivanting around all afternoon.”
“What’s gavel…gavlan…”
“Gallivanting. It means running around.”
Colin nodded. “I’m always hungry after gavlanting.”
“Let’s do it then,” Nettie said, imbuing her voice with enthusiasm. “What kind of cookies?”
He thought about it a moment. “Chocolate chip. ‘Cause she’s a girl and girls don’t get as hungry as boys, but even if you’re not hungry, you can eat chocolate chip cookies!”
Nettie laughed. “I believe you’re right.” Relinquishing her hold on him, she handed Colin the books they’d been reading. “Here. You take those back upstairs, and I’ll get all the ingredients out for the cookies.”
“Okay.” He scooted off the couch.
Outside, the gray sky had begun to sprinkle warm summer rain and echoing in the distance came a muted rumble of thunder. Listening to the storm, Nettie moved to the kitchen to concentrate on the blessedly mundane task of baking.
Butter and eggs from the fridge…Flour and baking soda and brown sugar from the cupboard…She’d stashed a bag of chocolate chips in here somewhere, so Sara couldn’t find and empty them into the Cocoa Puffs box, but where…? Ah! Perfect. A whole bag…
Setting out a mixing bowl and cookie sheet, Nettie pulled a stepladder up to the counter so Colin could reach. It had surprised her somewhat over the past couple of weeks to discover how much Colin enjoyed helping her in the kitchen.
Then again, hot gooey baked goods and spoons and bowls to lick out were persuasive rewards!
Tucker, too, she mused, had loved still-warm cookies and the doughnuts she had made from scratch. His favorite sweet, though, oddly enough, had been cheesecake. He had grinned and cooed over every bite, from his very first. Would he have enjoyed baking with his mom, Nettie wondered? What would he have looked like at age seven, powdered in flour as she taught him to measure ingredients? Nettie’s lips curled at the image, but the corresponding pang in her heart made her pull herself up short. Thoughts like that were not helpful to her, not now when she had to remain positive and concentrate on the task at hand.
Turning the radio on, she focused on song lyrics and baking items. She whistled and she hummed, but while she tried to use her head to remain upbeat, her spirit began to feel weighty, a little more and a little more with each passing moment. The time of evening when she took a few minutes to privately commemorate her son’s birthday was rapidly approaching, and her body seemed to feel it.
With everything laid out on the counter and the oven preheating, Nettie began to wonder what was keeping Colin.
“Colin, where are you, bud?” she called from the door to the kitchen. “Hey, Colin!”
When there was no answer, she trudged upstairs to see what he was up to. Her body felt heavy and lethargic, too, so maybe she was down with something. As she reached the landing, Nettie noticed dark clouds gathering in the distance and wondered how much longer Lilah would be. The early evening was shifting rapidly from cozy to gloomy.
“Colin?” she called again as she rounded the door to her studio. “Are you in here? I’ve got everything ready down—Oh, Colin!”
Abruptly, Nettie came to a halt. She stood frozen in the doorway, surveying with awful apprehension the scene before her.
Sitting on his knees, Colin examined the sculpture of Nettie’s son. He held a piece of it in each hand, two large chunks. Smaller broken chips lay scattered on the floor around him.
“What have you done?” Nettie’s voice rasped. Her limbs felt like stone.
“I wanted to put it on.” Colin looked up at her, contrite but unaware of the full import of his actions. “You said it was a mask, but it’s waay heavier than masks are s’posed to be.”
Nettie felt pressure build inside her.
“I told you not to play with it! Weren’t you listening to me?” She knelt in front of him. “I told you it wasn’t a toy. It wasn’t meant for you!” She heard the sharpness of the words, saw the uncertainty and concern come over Colin’s face, but she felt such grief she couldn’t stop herself.
“I could fix it prob’ly.” Awkwardly, Colin tried to fit the two mask pieces together, like a puzzle. Another tiny chip dropped to the ground.
“No!” Nettie pulled the mask from his hands. “Leave it, just…”
All the breath seemed to go out of her. Sitting on her knees on the hardwood floor, she realized her hands were shaking as she looked at the broken plaster, sick with the feeling that she had somehow been careless or thoughtless. If she’d put it somewhere else, somewhere higher or hidden…
“My dad could get you another, I bet,” Colin offered, his confidence returning. “He knows where to get lots of stuff. I’m gonna ask him and then—”
“No!” Nettie raised her eyes to the robust little boy, brimming with childish conviction that what was broken could surely be repaired again. “There are things you can’t fix once you break them. That’s why you listen to people when they tell you, Colin.” She shook her head, unaware of the tears that welled in her eyes. “You…you have to listen!”
Colin stood a moment, uncertainty filling his small body. He had no idea what to do. Clearly he was frightened by Nettie’s strong response. Not knowing how to express it, however, his fear turned quickly to anger. “It was just a dumb ugly old mask, anyway,” he shot back at her, lower lip trembling, eyes blazing with wounded pride. “You couldn’t even wear it!” Before Nettie could say a word or do anything, he tore out of the room.
Nettie wanted to call after him, later she thought she might even have tried, without quite realizing it. She couldn’t have made much of a sound, though; tears choked her throat and blurred her vision. Her arms and legs felt boneless. Pain gripped her stomach and for an indeterminate amount of time, she could do no more than sit where she was, caved in on herself, trying desperately not to give in to the pain. If she cried for her baby and Brian, if she ached for the mistakes she had made and could never recall, and for the awful, endless…void…she might never stop.
Taking breaths, she waited until she felt solid again and could stand. Then she got up, still holding the two pieces of plaster. They didn’t resemble anything, anymore. Feeling numb, Nettie set what was left of the mask on the shelf.
Just do what’s next, she directed herself.
Colin was downstairs, upset and confused. He’d made a mistake, and she’d answered it with another. It was up to her to iron out the clash before Lilah came home. Colin would be gone from her life altogether before she knew it; she couldn’t let him leave with anger creating distance between them.
The thought put an uncomfortable urgency in her step. There were so many things in this world you could neither control nor count on, but you could make sure that people knew you loved them before you said goodbye.
Outside, distant thunder had begun its slow, grumbling roll across the evening sky. It had started to rain, too, she noted with vague surprise, though inside the house the air was humid and still.
Nettie expected Colin to be in the living room, sitting in front of the television—his favorite evening spot when no other activities had been mandated—and she took a breath as she hit the base of the stairs, hoping for the right words.
She’d taken only one step into the foyer when she realized there was no sound coming from the TV. The living room was empty. Ditto the dining room and kitchen.
“Colin?” Grimacing in the too-warm kitchen, she glanced at the butter softening to a near melt on the counter and turned the stove down for the time being. “Colin!”
N
ettie checked the bathroom, the downstairs coat closet and then ran back up to the bedrooms. Was he hiding? “Colin, I know you’re upset, but wherever you are, you need to come out now, so we can talk.” Again she investigated all the closets…and under the beds. He was nowhere. Standing with her hands on her hips in the middle of Sara’s bedroom, she raised her eyes to the ceiling as thunder rolled closer. “Bike,” Nettie murmured. “His bike’s outside.”
She sped down the stairs a second time, heading this time for the mud porch. They’d leaned his bike against the porch steps. Be there…be there.
An impressive crack sounded overhead as Nettie opened the door. Lightning flashed and then sizzled, and the thunder rolled again. He couldn’t have ridden anywhere in this; he wouldn’t have—
No bike.
“Oh…” Nettie indulged in a cussword that would have done Sara proud. Unmindful of the pouring rain, she ran outside, sandals crunching on the wet gravel driveway. She scanned the distance in all directions, but saw no one, and she shivered suddenly, though not from cold. The rain was warm, the air thick and musky. Summer storms, with their deceptive temperatures and dramatic electrical displays could be the most brutal. Without the bitter cold, there seemed to be less to fear, but lightning and dry summer fields were a combustible duo.
Turning toward the house with the intention of getting her car keys, Nettie realized halfway up the porch steps that Lilah was driving Jezebel.
“All right, think. Think.” She thumped her forehead with a loose fist. “Sara!”
Racing up the remainder of the steps, she grabbed the phone and hit Sara’s number on the speed dial. The sheriff was out on a call. Swearing again, but determined not to waste precious minutes hesitating, Nettie simply took the next logical action—she changed from sandals to sneakers. If she had to go after Colin on foot, she would. Her shorts and T-shirt would be rainsoaked in minutes, but she had no time to deal with that. She grabbed the thin jacket Colin had brought with him and then, in shoes with no socks, dived back into the storm.