Wallpaper with Roses

by Jenny Andersen

  Christine inspected her fingernails.

  Hilda waited.

  “The lady I rented a room from died. Her son thought he would inherit the house and her money. When he found out he didn’t, he blamed me, and he—I ran. I couldn’t go back for my things and I couldn’t go back to my job, so I started hitching.” She fell silent.

  Hilda’s blood ran cold thinking of what the girl had encountered.

  “This truck driver left me at a truck stop in the middle of Nevada because I wouldn’t f—wouldn’t sleep with him. That’s when Charley came along. He offered me a ride, and we got along, so he said I could stay with him. So I did.”

  “That was Charley in the car yesterday?” Hilda asked.

  Christine nodded. “He was good to me. I liked him just fine.”

  “You obviously weren’t getting along too well yesterday afternoon,” Hilda pointed out.

  “He was upset.”

  “Clearly. Why?”

  “I told him I was pregnant, and he said I had to get the money for an abortion, and I could start that night, working the truck stops.” Christine curled her lip, but the expression in her eyes was fear, not scorn.

  “Work the truck stops?”

  “Yeah. He didn’t mean as a waitress. And don’t give me that look.” Her shoulders twitched as though the sudden toughness was an uncomfortable veneer. “Even if I’d been willing to have an abortion, no way am I gonna be a truck-stop ho. I’m...”

  “You are a good girl from a good background who has gotten into an unpleasant situation,” Hilda finished smoothly. “What we have to do now is figure out what comes next.”

  “What comes next is that pretty soon they’re going to throw me out on the street, and I’m going to start walking until I get another ride.”

  The tough words, the brave expression, couldn’t cover the girl’s fear, and Hilda’s heart squeezed. The poor child, she thought again. A nice girl, one who needed someone to show her a little kindness. Whatever had been bad enough to make her leave her home, her situation now must be immeasurably worse.

  She and Sarah had that huge house. There was room for Violet, and there’d be room for Christine. Christine and her baby. A baby. Hilda felt her mouth curve.

  “You think that’s funny?” Christine grimaced. “I don’t get you. You look like such a nice lady, you brought me flowers, and you’re laughing at me?”

  “No, I’m not laughing at you, my dear. I was smiling because I don’t have any grandchildren and I’ve been longing to have a baby around the house.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’ll get all fat and ugly, and you won’t have to provide for it, and you won’t have to remember every day that it’s half stupid jerk.”

  “I imagine you’re referring to the child’s father,” Hilda said. “Well, I can’t blame you, but remember, the child will be half you, too.”

  The bed whirred as Christine held down the button that raised the head. When she was sitting almost upright, she stared at Hilda. “I don’t understand you,” she said. “I just do not.”

  “I am offering you a place to live when you are released from, or are thrown out of, the hospital. My daughter and I live, if you had time to notice before Charley threw you out of the car, in a very large house. There is room for you. You would not have to—” Hilda cleared her throat. “Work the truck stops or ‘hitch’ anywhere.”

  “I said I wasn’t on the streets for the last year, but I’m smart enough to know that there has to be a catch here. No.”

  “My daughter will be here soon and you can meet her. Perhaps she will convince you that this is a genuine offer.”

  “No. You could be running a white slave operation, or drug lab or something.”

  Hilda laughed. She couldn’t help it.

  “Well, you could,” Christine insisted, but her own mouth curved in the beginnings of a smile.

  Sarah had come into the room in time to hear Christine’s words. “We’re running a white slave operation?” she asked. “That should really help with the budget, Mama.”

  “This is my daughter.” Hilda beckoned her forward. “Perhaps she can convince you that my offer is a genuine one.”

  Before Sarah could speak, authoritative footsteps rang in the hall. Hilda turned and saw the mayor come into the room.

  “Hilda. Sarah. What are you doing here?” He sounded as surprised by their presence as she was by his.

  “Visiting Christine,” she said.

  “Oh, that’s right. It was your lawn. Not the kind of thing that happens often in that neighborhood.” He frowned at Christine.

  “Definitely not,” Hilda agreed. “I wanted to assure myself that Christine was all right after her ordeal.”

  “The doctor says she is. And that she doesn’t have any money.”

  Hilda inclined her head in agreement.

  “We don’t take kindly to indigents in this town, young lady,” the kindly old mayor told Christine, his eyes as warm and friendly as chips of ice. “The minister over at the Presbyterian church took up a collection, and bought you a bus ticket out of town.” He handed her an envelope. “Bus leaves at six thirty this evening.”

  “And Ah bettah be awn it if Ah knows what’s good foah me, right, your honor?” Christine drawled.

  It was an excellent parody of every old B western movie Hilda had ever seen. She laughed.

  The mayor flushed. “Just be on the bus.” He nodded at Hilda, and with a muffled, “Hilda,” strode out the door.

  Miss Harkness came into the room so quickly that she must have been waiting in the hall for him to leave. “If you’ll just sign these discharge papers, you can leave,” she told Christine.

  “Sure.” Christine pulled the tray table over her lap. Hilda was glad to see that she read every word, paying no attention to Miss Harkness’s fidgeting.

  Miss Harkness grabbed the signed papers and left, nearly mowing Sarah down as she passed.

  “Well, Sarah, Christine has just been discharged. What do you think of my suggestion that she stay with us? She seems to think I’m up to no good, so perhaps you could convince her that we are just what we appear to be.”

  “I don’t have a lot of better offers, so I guess I’ll accept,” Christine said before Sarah could answer. A grin flashed across her face. “After all, the mayor knows both of you. And he seemed to think you and your neighborhood were something special.”

  “We’ll wait outside while you dress. Come along, Sarah.”

  The minute they were out of the room, Sarah burst into speech. “Whatever are you thinking, Mother? You have no idea who that girl is. We don’t need another mouth to feed. And you know the hospital will try to stick us with her bill.”

  “That reminds me,” Hilda interrupted. “Is that what that Harkness woman wanted? Have you met her before?”

  Sarah nodded. “I had a terrible time with her when you were here. You probably don’t remember, but after the first surgery, she tried to send you home even though you needed to be in a rehab facility.”

  “Apparently I have more to be grateful to you than I realized. Thank you, dear. But what dreadful manners she has. Surely even such a distasteful job could be done more politely. Was she trying to make us pay Christine’s bill?”

  Sarah nodded. “Don’t worry. She can’t. I’m sure she’ll try again. She won’t succeed, but it’ll be another hassle. Now. About Christine. What if she murders us in our beds and steals everything in the house?”

  “Hush, Sarah.” Hilda fumbled her way to the closest chair and sat. Realizing that her daughter had a point made her feel weak and old and forgetful. “I really hadn’t thought about that. I’m so sorry. But I’ve already offered. And she does seem to be a lovely, well-brought-up girl.”

  “Mama, no. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so uncharitable.”

  “No, you were right. I was, too, however. We cannot abandon that poor child to live on the streets, or be preyed upon by some other c
reature who will celebrate his impending parenthood by demanding that she become a prostitute to pay for an abortion.”

  Of course Sarah focused on the one part of the sentence Hilda had hoped would escape her notice. “She’s pregnant? Great. Make that two more mouths to feed.” She stopped, looking as stunned as though the words had come from someone else. “I’m sorry, Mother. That was an awful thing to say. Of course we can’t see her turned out on the street.”

  Relief poured through her at Sarah’s words and expression. She looked heartily ashamed of herself. “I knew I could depend on you, dear. I know I should have discussed it with you, but I didn’t come here intending to issue the invitation. It was only after I spoke with Christine that it seemed like such a perfect idea.”

  “I’m sure it will be all right, Mother. We’ll make it work.”

  That was more like the daughter she knew and loved. Poor Sarah. She must be unbelievably stressed to have made such an uncharitable response. Hilda stifled a surge of guilt for adding to the problems. But rescuing Christine was the right thing to do, she knew it in her bones.

  A nurse came down the hall pushing an empty wheelchair, brushed between Hilda and her daughter, and went into Christine’s room.

  “I can walk.” Christine’s clear voice carried into the hall.

  “Everyone goes out in a wheelchair,” the nurse said. “Please sit.” A few seconds later, she reappeared, with Christine in the chair. The girl carried nothing but the flowers Hilda had brought.

  “Where are your belongings?” asked Hilda.

  She lifted the vase a couple of inches. “This is it.”

  “Oh, well, of course,” Hilda said. “Your—Charley—didn’t throw anything out with you. You literally have nothing but the clothes on your back, as they say. Sarah?”

  “Yes. We’re about the same size,” Sarah said. “I think we can find you something to wear.”

  As they left the elevator, they came face to face with a man carrying roses and a stuffed giraffe. He looked familiar and Hilda realized it was the new police officer who had been with Brent the day before.

  “I guess I almost missed you,” he said to Christine.

  “Me? But I don’t even know you.”

  “Hank Zidell. I was one of the officers on the scene yesterday. I wanted to see if you were all right, if you needed help, but it looks like you’re in good hands here.”

  “As long as we don’t turn out to be white slavers,” Hilda said.

  “You’re safe,” he told Christine. “These two are our most upstanding citizens. Here.” He handed her the flowers and toy.

  “Thank you,” Christine said. “But a stuffed giraffe?”

  “To remind you to aim high. So are you taking her home with you?” he asked Sarah.

  “Yes. Mama’s idea. I expect we’ll be seeing you soon.”

  He grinned, and Hilda was surprised to see a dimple wink in one cheek. What a good-looking boy. She glanced at Christine to see what her reaction was, but Christine didn’t seem to notice.

  The nurse whished through the front doors of the hospital. “This is as far as I go,” she said.

  Hank took his leave, and Christine started to get out of the chair.

  The nurse restrained her with a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll wait until the car gets here. Don’t judge everyone here by old Harkness or the Mayor. Here.” From a pocket, she produced a small bag. “The other nurses and I got you a few things. This has a toothbrush and some other stuff.”

  Sarah hustled off to get the car leaving Hilda and Christine with the nurse. “How very nice of you. Miss Harkness seems quite unsympathetic,” Hilda observed. “And I’m certainly never going to vote for the mayor again.”

  Christine giggled. “Thank you all,” she said. “For the things, and for not voting for the mayor.”

  Sarah pulled the car up to the curb, and the nurse helped Christine into the back seat. “Good luck, honey. You’re in good hands now.” She turned away and sped back into the building, the empty chair jouncing.

  “Well, that was sweet,” Hilda said. She glanced over her shoulder at Christine. The girl leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closed. A single, crystal tear clung to one eyelash. Hilda faced front. “Let’s take Christine home, Sarah.”

  ****

  “Honest to God, Beth, I can’t imagine what got into her. I can’t believe I’m being such a total bitch about this, but I mean, asking a total stranger to move in?” Sarah kicked off her shoes and curled one leg under her on the couch. Fred jumped up and settled into her lap.

  Beth leaned forward to top off Sarah’s glass of wine. “I guess I’m psychic. I just had a hunch this was a good night to drop by with a bottle of wine.”

  “You were right. The whole thing just makes me want to scream.”

  “I get that,” Beth said in a soothing voice. “So, what’s the girl like?”

  Sarah took a healthy swig of her drink. “Quiet. But who wouldn’t be after what she went through? She seems nice enough. My mother has decided by some form of ESP that she’s a well-brought-up young lady and therefore someone we should be saving.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well then, what?”

  “Stress. Money. What else?”

  “Oh, come on, Sarah. It’s not like she’s going to double your grocery bill or anything. How much can it cost to feed one little girl?”

  “One little pregnant girl.”

  “Oops. But babies nurse. That’s no problem.”

  “One little pregnant girl who will need medical care when she has the baby.”

  “But that’s not your responsibility.”

  Sarah scowled. “It will be, just you wait and see. She’s one little pregnant girl who will need medical care when she has the baby and who already comes with a whopping hospital bill and a bulldog who thinks Mother and I should pay it.”

  “That woman at the hospital who gave you so much trouble over your mother?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “She can’t do that.”

  “Probably not, but she’s probably going to try. This is making me crazy.”

  Beth patted her shoulder. “It’s sure making you sound crazy.”

  “It’s making me sound like a bitch. I never knew I could be so uncharitable. I hate it, but right now everything just scares me. Bills and bills and more bills. Medical bills, and the elevator, and the new roof, and the car. Mama’s health, and Violet, and now this.”

  Beth was silent for a long moment. “I think what scares you is the thought that your mother is going to die,” she said quietly.

  Sarah choked.

  “Well, I’m sorry, Sarah, but...am I wrong?”

  Of course she wasn’t. It took Sarah a moment to swallow the tears that threatened to overflow. “No. I’ve been worrying so hard about the logistics so I wouldn’t have to face that.”

  “You’re really going off the deep end here. Violet’s not an expense, is she? She’s paying to stay here.”

  Sarah groaned. “I know, I know. I just think the stress is getting to me. I actually yelled at Rob last week. And that was even before this whole thing with Christine.”

  “I’ll bet he forgave you, though.” Beth smirked. “He’s the nicest guy in town, and he seems to think highly of you.”

  Sarah nodded, pretending that the little flutter deep inside hadn’t happened.

  “I’m sure this whole thing is scary, but you’re a long way from being homeless or anything. Your mother’s owned this house since the year one, and that’s not going to go away.”

  “Damn it, you’re an accountant. You know that things like tax foreclosures and liens happen. Liens like one a hospital might slap on a house belonging to someone they claim owes them money. We could lose the house.”

  “Okay. It’s possible. But it’s pretty unlikely, you have to admit. Even if they sued you, they’d never win. And you have your job.”

  Sarah rubbed her head. �
��I know. I guess I just had to blow off a little steam. It’s pretty scary, being the one in charge. The buck stops with me now, and Beth, I just don’t know if I can handle it.”

  “Well, you can. Maybe not always with grace and elegance, but you always get the job done, Sarah. It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”

  “What I see is the pile of bills on my desk, and the need to work some overtime, and the fact that it scares the socks off me to leave Hilda and Violet alone.”

  “Well, if that girl’s here, they won’t be alone. I think she just solved one of your problems.” Beth patted her hand. “Sarah, how long is it since you did something fun?”

  Sarah bared her teeth in a not-smile. “Seventeen days. I remember very clearly what happened last time you told me I had to get a life and have some fun.”

  Beth blushed and hung her head. “You know I’m sorry about that, Sarah. Anyway, that wasn’t fun.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Forget I asked that. What I meant was, it’s been over a week since I tried to get you and Rob to go out for a drink. You need to do something else. Something to relax you.”

  “Oh, you mean a nap.”

  “No. Some mutually enjoyable activity. With a friend. You’re getting too stressed. It’s dangerous. If you won’t go somewhere with me, maybe you and Rob could go out again.”

  “Leave Rob out of this. Why would you think I would want to go on a date, anyway? How often have I been on a date since I met you? Dates are not fun. Even if I had time, no one is getting me out on a date ever again.”

  But the thought of dating Rob wasn’t as bad as it should be. The evening she’d turned down his invitation for a drink glittered in her memory like a fourth of July sparkler, one more regret to carry. “Rob and I shouldn’t be dating. And dates with strangers aren’t all that safe these days.”

  Nothing was safe. She couldn’t keep her mother safe, for one thing. She stared out over the lawn, sparked with increasingly rare fireflies. “Do you remember when we were little girls and play hide and seek every evening?”

  “Mmh hmm. And our mothers always called us in just before it got dark.”