• • •
Billy wasn’t sure what she said, but it was something like, “the bug, it was tan.” Had she been upset by a bug or maybe a spider? Maybe it was crawling around her in the grass.
“Do you want me to kill ’er?” Billy asked, ready to boot the bug back to its maker.
Jane’s face felt tight, her eyelids were swollen and she was thirsty. But she could still yell. “How typical of you Americans, and your senseless violence. As though we’d let Jackson go to you, when you’re standing there, quite seriously, talking of killing Charlotte?”
Billy said, “Oh, yeah, I remember that story, Charlotte’s Web. So if I am gettin’ you, Charlotte is like, Cockney slang, for spiders, and you’re the type that can’t abide killin’ any creatures, right? Did it actually bite you? ’Cause that could be real serious, ma’am.”
Despite being wildly upset, Jane started laughing at the irony. Charlotte had a reputation in town as a Black Widow. Her first two husbands died young. Jane squeezed her arms around her middle with a hearty belly laugh, and an exhausted, “Oh… ” escaped her lips.
She put her hands on her hips and looked at the surrounding countryside. Perhaps she was going mad. Laughing inappropriately, running, crying. This was sobering, because Jane suddenly wasn’t certain of anything. Maybe she was a bit touched. She wrapped her arms tightly about herself and searched her mind for other signs of poor mental health.
At the moment, she didn’t have the energy to hate Billy Killian. “I don’t come out here very often, anymore. Not since Lydia died. We used to take Jackson on picnics around here.”
Jane saw him struggle for an instant, and knew. “So, you would’ve cared? You would’ve come, had you known about your son?”
“Yes ma’am, I surely would have.”
“Then why do you want to ruin his life now, by taking him away from us?”
“Oh, now look here, miss — ”
“No, you ‘look here’! We’re all that Jackson has ever known. England is his home. How selfish of you to want to take it all away!”
Jane intended to say more, to scream more, and tell him what he ought to know. Clearly, he knew that she was right, because he just stood there, looking at the ground. She’d won a verbal battle with someone besides Lydia. This was quite a day. She felt less the victim, homeless or not.
Why stop there? She continued, yelling.
“You can’t know anything about him. He couldn’t stay at camp for wanting his granny so much. He’s allergic to bananas. That it would quite possibly break his heart to leave … me.” Suddenly her newfound momentum disappeared. Weakness fell heavily over her shoulders. She sunk to the ground. Today seemed a bad dream that refused to end.
Billy kneeled in front of her. “Maybe you’re right, ma’am. But I can’t just leave my boy and never look back. See, ever since I’ve known about him, he’s been, like, everything. If I think about a song, I think about teachin’ him to play. If I think about food, then, well, I am glad you told me he can’t have bananas.”
“This isn’t about you, and all of the useful things you can learn!” Jane squealed. She thoroughly detested this man. He was dribbling on about Jackson as though he were in a greetings card commercial. Raising a child was his newly adopted vocation. How touching. Jane was sure that the cowboy didn’t have a clue. They sat in silence on the grass for a few minutes.
“Do you wanna go to the pub and have dinner with me, Miz Jane?”
“What! No! Certainly you are joking, Mr. Killian.”
“Well, what are you gonna do, then, ma’am? ’Cause I am gonna walk away now, and I don’t really wanna leave you here by the side of the road.”
“I shall sit here and do as I damn well please, that’s what. I don’t curse. But you bloody well make me loose my rag!”
“Okay, ma’am.”
“Stop calling me that. I am not over-sixty nor a bloody royal.”
“Jane,” he said softly.
She snapped her head up to look at him. His hand was outstretched. She sat motionless on the ground.
His arm fell to his side. “Look, honey, I am sorry. I really am. Maybe if you could talk to me, we’d be better at workin’ this mess out. I’d like to know what you think. Now, I don’t know where you been, but you got a pasture’s worth of dirt on your dress, and you can probably use a little somethin’ to eat. Come on with me, now.” He extended his hand to her once more.
Jane grasped his hand and rose to her feet, but she wasn’t calling a truce. “I don’t want to talk to you. I am walking back to the village, and I suppose you’re walking that way, too.”
“That’s fine, ma’am. Whatever suits. I just don’t know why, if you love the boy, you won’t help.”
Jane paced ahead. She looked at the trees and breathed deeply of their scent. She allowed the cleansing honesty of the forest around her to help her settle. She answered him in even tones. “Because I don’t feel like helping you. And you’re wanting to take Jackson away, and I don’t want you to, so, what can we have to say to one another?” There, she’s said it. That summed it up, and it was easy. She’d at least made a step to reconciling herself with all that had happened. She was behaving logically, and she didn’t feel the least bit mental. She’d just been through an awful lot, but she would be right as rain, and start her life over.
Billy spoke, interrupting Jane’s internal dialogue. “I thought you loved Jackson.”
Jane spun around in fury. “I do!”
He put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to one side. “Then since I am his daddy, you oughta be actin’ like a grown up and talk to me. If you have somethin’ to say about him, I wanna hear it. If you don’t, then I guess I can assume your opinion don’t count.”
Jane’s throat throbbed with pressure. The cyclone in her abdomen was picking up speed. Her voice trembled, but she yelled out anyway, unable to hold back. She’d never had a chance to face down her own father. She couldn’t be bothered with this heavy-handed, authoritative approach.
“Who do you think you are? Was that a threat? You suggest what I have to say matters until I refuse to come to the pub with you, then you quite suddenly decide to subtract me from Jackson’s life. As if you’re God. You don’t seem to grasp that I have already fully expressed my opinion! Which is, that nothing matters except that Jackson stays here, and life carries on as usual, with no interference from you. There is no compromise of that scenario that interests me. And if you think you’re the only person who has any rights to Jackson, you’re quite mistaken.”
With that, she walked briskly on wobbly legs, away from the stranger who stared after her.
Chapter 17
Jane came through the back door of the Membry house at Brambleberry Lane, and was grateful to find the kitchen empty. She’d take some tea and something for her head, and slip upstairs.
Putting fresh water in the kettle, she laid it on the Aga and turned to get the tea and a clean cup. Suddenly, there was Jackson.
“Oh, Jacks, you scared me!”
“Can I have some cocoa?”
“Of course, love.”
Seating himself at the table, Jackson propped his head on one hand, just as his mum used to do. What a sweet, bright, and lovely boy. But not at all hers. She turned back to the whistling kettle.
“I am sorry, Auntie,” Jackson said with a hush. For what? Did he understand the ramifications of calling his father to England?
She set the cocoa and plate of biscuits in front of him, and sat opposite him, cupping her tea with both hands. She tried to blow over the tea for something to do, but her lips trembled too much. She cradled her chin in laced fingers and let out a sigh. And I think Billy Killian incapable of handling a child. Look at how I am failing miserably to hold up a conversation.
Jackson tried again. “It’s
very sad about your shop. I liked going there, and you lived so close. What will you do, Auntie?”
She slipped from the table for a tissue, from the box decorated with pansies that sat by the telephone. Her head still ached from the last ridiculous outburst, and here she was damming up again.
“I am not certain, sweetheart. I should like to open another shop, but I don’t have much money, so it may take some time.” Jane blew her nose, and took a long sip of hot tea. The warmth gave her courage. “I do know one thing, though.”
“What?”
“I have time more time now to go with you to see Dudley. May I go with you tomorrow?”
Jackson brightened, and his head straightened on his shoulders. “That would be brilliant, Auntie Jane. And maybe soon we can go to the cinema? There’s a new one, about a zebra who thinks he’s a horse. It looks really funny.”
“That sounds lovely, Jacks.” Jane swallowed her headache medicine.
Jackson seemed to sense her distress and tried to help. “I’ve been reading an awfully good book.”
“Really? What about?”
“The Native American Indians. They used to ride ponies and kill buffalo, by stabbing them with these long spear things. They painted themselves and the ponies. And they lived in tepees. In fact, Toby and I are putting up a tepee in the garden, if Grams will go along.”
“Wouldn’t that be fabulous?”
“Mmm. It’s time for the Top of the Pops.” Jackson went off towards the television.
“Sure, Jacks. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Jane felt strangely as though she were melding into Lydia’s life. She’d slept in Lydia’s bed, acted as a mum to her child, and had a fight with her only lover. Maybe these people weren’t her life or her concern. Maybe they shouldn’t even be her friends. Perhaps she ought to just remove herself from the situation. Go to her mum and Hugh in Scotland.
• • •
Serena threw the yogurt container in the trash and turned back to her computer. Her dissatisfaction was deepening by the hour. If she really intended to be with Billy, then why was she here? She’d always been proud of doing something for herself, being a career woman. But that was getting old. She was a woman first, and she wanted to be with her man. Make a home, take care of his child, and have a child of her own. She was sure that Billy must have a lot of money, and there was no reason for him to need “time alone” with a child that he didn’t know. After all, neither parent knows their newborn when he or she is born; they come to know their child together. They’re a unit.
Serena picked up the phone and dialed the number for Killian Studios. She was going to need Billy’s brother’s cooperation for everything to go smoothly.
“Killian Recording Studios. May I help you?” Serena recognized Sandy’s voice.
“Hi, Sandy. This is Serena Berquist. I am, uh, Billy’s friend from Atlanta. How are you?”
“Oh, hey, Serena. We’re busy here, as usual. You know Billy’s not here, right?”
“Yes, of course. In fact, he called me from England last night. I was calling to speak with Yancy.”
Sandy hesitated for a moment. How irritating. Didn’t she recognize that Serena was Yancy’s future sister-in-law?
“Just a moment, Serena, and I’ll see if Yancy’s in.”
Almost a full minute later, Billy’s brother finally picked up the line.
“Serena? Yancy here. What can I do for you, hon?”
“Hello, Yancy, sorry to bother you like this at the office. I’ll get right to the point. I gather you’ve talked to Billy, and know what a hard time he’s having over there?”
“Yeah.” Serena felt a stab of nervousness. She was hoping Yancy would be a little chatty with her, but he had his business airs on.
“Well, I am really concerned about Billy,” she said, pouring honey into the phone. “He may have bitten off more than he can chew, you know?”
No reply. Serena rushed on.
“I thought it would be nice if I could take some time off work, and come down and help Billy out. And his little boy might be really glad to have a sort of mother figure around, you know?”
Yancy was still silent.
Serena added, “And I know they’re bringing that pony over, and I know a lot about horses, so that’s another thing that’s important to your nephew.”
“Why are you talking about this with me, instead of Billy?”
“Oh, Yancy, I just got the idea this morning, and of course it’s nighttime in England, isn’t it? The truth is, I just don’t think Billy needs to have to make one more decision about someone else’s welfare. I mean, I want to take care of him, instead of abandoning him to try and take care of a child on his own.” Serena laughed. “What does Billy know about kids, anyway? He’d probably think the kid should sleep in a guitar case or something!”
Her joke fell flat. Serena’s anxiety rose.
“I think you ought to discuss this with Billy. He isn’t due home for another four days, so I am sure that will give you time to contact him. And I am not sure what I was supposed to do about it, anyway?”
She took a deep breath and summoned all the feeling she could. Taking her time, she paused, and then said quietly.
“Yancy, Billy and I have a wonderful relationship going, and this is really embarrassing for me to talk to you about, but, I love your brother. Only he doesn’t have the emotional resources for me right now, he’s focused on his son. I understand that, and it’s one of the reasons that I think Billy is a wonderful man. What would make me so happy, Yancy, is to come down there, and go to Billy’s condo and get that place in shape. I am a little concerned, that’s all. Billy didn’t even think ahead to buy a bed for that child. My maternal instincts are going wild, Yancy. I just want to help make this a smooth transition, and there are so many things that I could do for them both, but I’d need the keys to his place, and, and Mossy’s phone number, so we could connect, and that sort of thing.”
Serena hoped she wouldn’t have to carry out her plans with Mossy in tow, but whatever served her purpose would have to work for now.
Letting out a big sigh, Yancy said, “I understand, darlin’. And Lord knows Billy needs a woman to help make this whole thing come off. I know Mama was going to help, but she’s also trying not to interfere, whereas you, well, seein’ as how he’s lost his mother, and you and Billy are together … . Every kid should have a mama, and if you love my brother that much, that you’d come here and do all that work to get him organized, well, I don’t want to be the one to stand in the way. Quite frankly, none of us has the time, right at the moment. Even Mama, well, she has her own life. She was always kinda independent, even when we was growin’ up.”
Serena smiled into the phone, but kept her cool. No need to sound too triumphant. She wanted him to hang up feeling good about this. Sweetly, she said, “I am so relieved that you’ll let me help, Yancy. Billy didn’t want to throw me into this role, with our relationship being so new, but I love children.”
“Yeah, I guess it’ll be a good thing.”
“Billy is due back on Sunday night, and if I leave Atlanta after work on Friday, that will give me plenty of time to clean, prepare a room for Jackson, and get some food in the house.” She sounded like an efficient mommy. This was going to be fun.
Yancy was heartened by her enthusiasm. “Well, okay then. I’ll send a car to pick you up at the airport, and the driver will have a package for you with the keys and such, all right?”
“That’s so wonderful, Yancy. I am going to take good care of your brother and his boy. It’s going to work out beautifully, you’ll see. I can hardly wait to surprise him!”
“So, you’re not telling him you’re coming?”
She hoped she hadn’t tripped a security wire, but she went on boldly. “Ar
e you kidding? Billy treats me like a queen, which is wonderful, but he doesn’t think I should lower myself to scrubbing the bathtub and cooking a meal suitable for a little boy. If I tell him, he’ll try to hire someone to do it, and you know that would be ridiculous.”
To Serena’s relief, Yancy generously agreed, saying his brother had Serena on a pedestal, but he admired her for bein’ so down-to-earth enough to not like it. Yancy made sure his wife had a housekeeper, because he liked spoiling her. Only she didn’t act spoiled, which is the way things oughta be. Serena agreed with him, with all the charm that she could muster.
“Okay, darlin’ we’ll expect you on the seven o’clock from Atlanta on Friday night. We’ll get in touch with you on Saturday mornin’ to see if you need anything.”
“Great. See you soon, Yancy. And thanks.”
Chapter 18
The coach pulled to a stop in the middle of the village. Harry Collins drew a deep breath and ignored the front window, through which he could surely see the remains of his violin shop. His spirits were high, no need to look at the blackened buildings. He brought down a canvas bag from the overhead and walked half the bus length to the door. He was the only passenger and he tipped his hat to the driver, a heavyset woman with smooth latte-colored skin. She nodded in reply as his feet tapped down the grooved rubber stairs. As soon as he was on the street, he walked towards Brambleberry House.
His brother, Ed, and his wife, Elise, had been lovely, and it had made a nice change to be in London. They’d even splurged and gone to an orchestra concert at the Barbican. When the orchestra music swelled to life, he came to life, too. His brother had known how much it would lift him. God bless Ed for that. It soothed his soul like nothing else, to hear the free flowing, passionate strains of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, which grew in intensity with stamping chords to mirror the controlled chaos that Harry Collins felt in his own heart. He released his worry and heartache over losing his shop that night, sitting in the plush seats, listening to the ravishing bassoon solo that so long ago incited it’s 1913 debut audience to riot.
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