Iris Avenue

by Pamela Grandstaff

  It helped that he was handsome, charming, and kind. He loved people; he was willing to help anyone do anything. He was the kind of man who made people feel good just by being around. Everything Gabe did he seemed to enjoy doing, seemed to savor more than anyone else. Even ordinary things, like warm, clean towels right out of the dryer; he would bury his face in them, wrap them around his neck and hum with delight. Gabe’s deep appreciation for simple pleasures created an atmosphere of joy in their house that was contagious. Maggie realized now that was probably how a man just released from prison might demonstrate his gratitude for the small pleasures in life that other, un-incarcerated people might take for granted.

  Gabe made her a better person. He refused to let Maggie hide her fears behind sarcasm and sharp comments. He demanded that she be compassionate when she wanted to judge. He taught her how to be generous without expecting something in return. Maybe most importantly, he made her feel, as Aretha so aptly put it, like a natural woman. Over the three years they were together, he opened her up like a beautiful flower, and made her believe her life could be happy and full of love. Then he left her in the middle of the night without saying good-bye.

  Maggie couldn’t reconcile the Gabe of her sweet memories with the Gabe selling drugs to college students, going to prison for drug trafficking, and lying to her about his past. How could he be both? Her Aunt Delia had once warned Maggie that she idealized Gabe so much that no man could ever replace him. Maggie wondered now if even Gabe himself could replace the man she thought of as the great love of her life.

  By morning, after very little sleep, she hadn’t come to any definitive decision, but she felt she was ready to listen to his voice mail message. Unfortunately, Sean was using her phone for a conference call. She took a shower and got dressed. She had this irrational feeling Gabe was coming any minute, so she put on clothes in which she felt she looked her best and took some trouble with her hair and makeup. She’d just put the kettle on for tea when there was a knock on her apartment door. Unreasonably, she thought it might be Gabe, and her heart began to pound. It was her mother.

  Bonnie Fitzpatrick had been in her daughter’s apartment maybe three times in the five years she’d lived there. She hadn’t approved of Maggie living in sin with Gabe in the farm house up Possum Holler. After Gabe left and Maggie’s house burned down she’d gone back to her parents’ house to live, and even though she and her mother fought the whole time, still her mother refused to help her set up the new apartment. She hadn’t approved of Maggie buying the bookstore and leaving her job at the family bakery. She took to her bed with a “killing headache” on the day Maggie moved out.

  Bonnie had a determined look on her face.

  “Is your brother here?” she asked, in an irritated tone.

  “He’s on a conference call in the kitchen. Do you want to come in and wait?”

  Bonnie came in, looked around the front room and sniffed a little.

  “I’ve been trying to call you all morning and the line’s been busy.”

  “Sean’s trying to do his work from here,” Maggie said.

  “His grandfather died. You’d think they’d understand he needs to be with his family right now.”

  “Is the bakery open today?”

  “Of course it is. If you think I’m going to sit home and watch your father drink himself to death you’ve got another think coming. I could have used your help this morning.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom, how are you doing? Let me take your coat.”

  Bonnie refused to take off her coat and perched on the edge of Maggie’s deep reading chair. She looked all around at everything, as if searching for something to criticize, until her eyes lit on Maggie’s photo albums.

  “Do you mind?” she asked, pointing to them.

  Maggie brought over a stack of photo albums, and pulled the ottoman over so she could look at them with her mother. There were many photos of Grandpa Tim in them. He was always smiling. You could mark time passing by the color of his hair: bright red, then a little duller red shot with white, then all white, then sparse and white over a bald head. He seemed to get smaller too, and then stooped over. After his cancer treatments, he seemed shrunken and pale, but still he smiled.

  “He was so proud to be Scottish, to have come over as a child so he could still remember what it was like back there,” Bonnie said. “I’m sure he romanticized it in his memory, but maybe that’s better. If he’d gone back, he might have been disappointed.”

  “He always said he didn’t mind you marrying an Irishman, that they were just refugees from Scotland.”

  “He asked your father if he would consider taking the MacGregor name. Fitz knew a compliment when he heard one, meant only with the best intentions, but his mother had an absolute fit. Can you imagine? He would have been Fitz MacGregor.”

  “Grandma Rose told me she felt sorry for me because I had this awful ginger coloring,” Maggie said. “She said it was a curse, and that I’d always be looked down upon because I had it.”

  “She said the same about your brother Brian,” Bonnie said. “Did I ever tell you she refused to let your father name our first born after himself? She said he couldn’t be sure it was his child because of all that red hair. When Patrick was born, she was beside herself. ‘That one,’ she said, ‘is a Fitzpatrick.’”

  “What an awful old witch.”

  “She was that, our Rose.”

  “Her three boys loved her, though. You couldn’t say a word against her.”

  “Even though she hated their wives and picked on their children,” Bonnie said. “When poor little Liam died she blamed Delia, said she had that French blood in her, and had poisoned the boy with it.”

  “How could they defend her when she was so wicked?”

  “Because she raised them without any help. Your grandfather Fitzpatrick was a horrible drunk and was always jumping trains to who knows where. There was even a rumor he had another family somewhere, in California, I think. Rose was left with three boys and no money. Before she opened the bakery she baked at home all morning and delivered orders every afternoon. The boys helped her clean the bank every night. She worked all hours of the day and night to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. In return she demanded complete loyalty. When Fitz married me she saw me as a threat, a rival for her affections. She never accepted me.”

  “I don’t know how you stood it; working with her every day, living in the same house with her all those years.”

  “I think your father picked someone who was just as stubborn as his mother was. Neither of us was going to let the other one win.”

  “Did you ever feel like you won?”

  “No one wins a tug of war like that. There’s your father, a broken down old drunk just like his father, only too crippled to run off. Brian seems to have gone to the devil. Patrick won’t settle down; he’s broken the heart of every nice girl in this town. Sean couldn’t wait to get away from us, and I can’t even talk to my only daughter without making her hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “What was your mother like?”

  “Just like me. We fought all the time, too.”

  “Maybe that’s what all mothers and daughters do.”

  “Father Stephen says we each have to bend a little more. I don’t know about you, but bending feels like giving in to me.”

  Maggie laughed, “Me too.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll both just have to try harder,” Bonnie said, “only you go first.”

  “Mom, I love you, but I’m going to lead my own life and make my own decisions, and I’m not going to do everything on your terms just to get along with you.”

  “You’re a stubborn, pig-headed girl, just like I was. I just worry you’ll end up alone, with no children.”

  “And marriage and children worked out so well for you?”

  “It hasn’t all been bad. You know, it’s the grandchildren who are the r
eal reward. You need a husband long enough to get the children who give you the grandchildren. Brian’s given me some beautiful grandchildren, but Patrick and Sean need to get busy.”

  “Hi, Mom,” Sean said as he entered the room. “What is it I’m supposed to get busy doing?”

  Bonnie jumped up and hugged her youngest son.

  “I need you to help me pick out some clothes for your Grandpa Tim to wear. Then I need you to take the clothes to Peg Machalvie, and help me set up the Community Center for the funeral reception. Patrick has to work at the station and pub all day so he’ll be no help at all. I also need some help getting the reception baking done since your sister can’t be bothered. Your father has some fool notion of a wake at the pub tonight, but I doubt he’ll be conscious by the time it comes to go.”

  Sean put his coat on and followed Bonnie out the door. She was still telling him all the things she needed to do before the funeral the next day, and he waved to Maggie over his shoulder as he closed the door. Maggie’s mother didn’t look back or say good-bye to her; when one of Bonnie’s sons was present Maggie always felt as if she’d disappeared.

  The phone rang and it was Jeanette downstairs, saying Lily Crawford was in the café and wanted to talk to her, so Maggie went down to the bookstore. On the way over to the café side Maggie saw a young boy looking through the online role-playing game books.

  “Do you need some help?” Maggie offered.

  The boy had dark curly hair and big brown eyes. He was at that age that to Maggie seemed so bittersweet; she could see the boy he still was and the man he would be. He had a beautiful smile.

  “I can only have one and I don’t know which is best,” he said.

  Maggie reached around to an end cap and handed the boy a magazine that she kept stocked there.

  “Here’s a magazine that reviews all the games. If you’d like to look through it we don’t mind. Or, if you can come back after three, Jeffrey will be here and he’s into all this in a big way. He can tell you all you need to know about it. I’m sorry I’m not more help.”

  An attractive woman came up and put her arm around the boy, then said something to him in Spanish. Maggie assumed it was his mother. She had the same dark eyes and hair, the same smile. The boy said something to his mother in Spanish and the woman said “gracias” to Maggie. The boy thanked Maggie as well. Maggie thought to herself as she walked away that she wished more young customers had such good manners. That woman had done a good job raising her son.

  Lily was sitting at a table by the window, looking out. Maggie had been hearing bits and pieces of what had been going on at Ava’s, and she knew Lily was involved somehow because Gabe was coming to stay with her, but she hadn’t had a chance to talk to her about it. She sat down and tapped on Lily’s arm.

  “Hey, come back,” Maggie said. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

  “Oh, Maggie,” Lily said, as she looked around the store as if she was trying to locate someone. “I need to talk to you and it’s going to have to be quick and painful, I’m sorry to say.”

  “What is it?” Maggie said.

  “You know that I’m involved in this investigation that Ava’s involved in.”

  “Someone told me that and I meant to come and see you, but it’s been super crazy around here the past couple days.”

  “Forgive me, Maggie,” Lily said. “I should have said first how truly sorry I am about your grandfather.”

  “That’s okay,” Maggie said. “He never really recovered from his cancer treatments, and we knew it would happen some time.”

  “Oh, no,” Lily said, looking over Maggie’s shoulder.

  Maggie turned around to see what she was looking at. The young boy and his mother were walking toward them, smiling. They seemed to know her.

  “Is this your store?” the woman asked Maggie.

  “Yes,” Maggie said. “Are you vacationing here or visiting someone at the college?”

  “We’re waiting for my father,” the boy said.

  Maggie looked at Lily, curious to learn how she knew these people.

  Lily looked aggrieved; there was no other word for it. She reached for Maggie’s hand and squeezed it.

  “Maggie, I want you to meet Luis and his mother Maria. They’re going to be staying with me for awhile. Maria, Luis, this is Maggie Fitzpatrick. She owns this bookstore.”

  Maggie held out her hand and shook each of theirs.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Maggie said.

  “My mother says I have to wait to buy something when I come back with my father,” the boy said. “He’s coming on the bus tonight.”

  The penny dropped for Maggie, but she looked again at the son to be sure, and immediately saw the resemblance.

  “Your last name is Cortez, isn’t it?” she said.

  “Yes,” Luis said. “My father is Gabriel Cortez.”

  Lily gripped Maggie’s hand, but Maggie pulled it away.

  “A phone call would have been nice, Lily,” Maggie said under her breath.

  “Your line was busy all morning. I couldn’t very well keep them locked up in my house until I talked to you,” Lily said quietly. Then she said more loudly, “Maria and Luis came on the morning bus, although I wasn’t expecting them until next week. They’re enjoying Rose Hill, but wish they had brought warmer clothing.”

  Maggie rose, and because she couldn’t help herself, she stared at Maria. The woman was lovely, and the son was as handsome as his father.

  ‘Twelve years old,’ Maggie thought, ‘twelve or thirteen at the most.’

  “I hope you enjoy your stay,” she said, as graciously as she could manage.

  Maria smiled and thanked Maggie again. Maggie didn’t look back at Lily as she walked away, and then ran up the stairs to her apartment. She slammed the door behind her and went straight to the telephone in the kitchen. Her hands were shaking as she dialed the voice mail service. She punched the numbers in by rote.

  “Maggie,” Gabe said. His voice was the same, deep, warm baritone. A shiver ran through her body and her stomach rolled. She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor of her kitchen, stretching out the phone cord.

  “I don’t know how much you know about what’s going on; I’m not supposed to talk about it and definitely not on the phone. I should be in Rose Hill on Saturday night, and I’ll come see you as soon as I can. There are some things I need to tell you in person. Things I’ve had on my conscience for a long time. I know I have no right to say this but I can’t wait to see you.”

  Maggie dropped the phone in her lap, looked around the room, but saw nothing. She’d thought when Gabe disappeared that the bottom had dropped out of her world, and when she found out he was in prison for drug trafficking she felt like things were as bad as they could get. Now she’d discovered there was still a distance farther she could fall, and she was falling.

  Drew went with Hannah to set the traps for the feral cats. She could tell he was down about Caroline, but she decided to let him bring it up. She gave him the map of the county with the trap sites marked in red. They were setting twenty today.

  “We’re lucky with the weather right now,” Hannah said. “You don’t want to trap them only to freeze them to death overnight. A warm front is supposed to come through tonight, and we’ll put these in sheltered areas out of the wind.”

  “So we set the traps today and pick them up tomorrow.”

  “Yep. And half of them will have possums or raccoons in them. I caught a huge ground hog in one once. He was so fat he couldn’t turn around so I had to take the darn thing apart to get him out. We’ll let those guys go.”

  “So, maybe ten cats. When do you want to check them?”

  “It will have to be early because I have church and then Grandpa Tim’s funeral to go to. How do you feel about staying at my place and starting at four in the morning?”

  “Fine with me,” Drew said. “I have nowhere else to go and no one who cares where I am.”

/>   “Sorry about that,” Hannah said. “I debated whether to tell you or not.”

  “I’m glad you did. I don’t think Caroline was planning to. At least it didn’t seem like it.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, she always does this. It wasn’t something you did. She’s very impulsive.”

  “I feel so stupid. All the signs were there, but I saw what I wanted to see and heard what I wanted to hear.”

  “At least we got the check.”

  “It kind of feels like she’s paying me off.”

  “She owed me that money.”

  “I know,” Drew said, “for finding homes for all of Theo’s dogs, on your own time.”

  “With county resources,” Hannah said. “Now we can get the grant, the college has agreed to host the Vision workers, and I have tentative agreements with people in ten other states to help us redistribute the cats.”

  “Who would want feral cats?”

  “You’d be surprised. Farmers like them because they’re natural predators for vermin, and if they’re spayed and neutered there’s no fear of overpopulation.”

  “Isn’t that what Anne Marie was talking about? ‘Keep some,’ she said. ‘Keep the balance,’ or something like that.”

  “That lady is crazy.”

  “So you aren’t pregnant.”

  Hannah didn’t answer right away.

  “You are?!”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said. “But very few people know. Maggie doesn’t even know.”

  “Hannah, if you’re pregnant you shouldn’t be working with feral cats. Toxoplasmosis is a real danger to pregnant women.”

  “Toxowhatsits?”

  “It’s a disease you can get from cat feces and uncooked meat. It’s dangerous for you and the baby.”