“Should we drive around to find her?” she asked. “Her life is in danger if she doesn’t get this thing taken care of.”
“You could always get a court order forcing her to get treatment,” Dave suggested. “In Delaware I’m pretty sure you have to get guardianship of someone first and then get protective custody. I’m no lawyer, but I think this qualifies as someone putting themselves in danger.”
“Let’s try to find her,” John said. “I know her shelter.”
They drove together in John’s car, and Alice bristled as they pulled up to the front. The group of obviously homeless men standing on the sidewalk in the heat of a summer day, dressed in ratty coats or summer shirts, smoking, was such a cliché. How did this happen to her daughter? She didn’t have much faith left, and this tableau dashed the little that tried to surface. John pulled the car down the street to a parking spot.
“Wait here,” he said.
Alice turned around in her seat to watch as her son approached the group of men. She saw him talking to an African American man of indeterminate age who gestured with his hand, pointed in one direction and then the other. John talked to him for a few minutes and then waved as he turned away to come back to the car.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” he said. “She left early this morning, supposedly to go for her surgery. She’d even made arrangements to stay at the shelter to recover instead of going to the hotel I set up for her. I’m going to the police.”
Alice’s heart was pounding hard as she thought about the word “police.”
“Do you think something happened to her?” she asked, dread growing. Her daughter seemed just fine a day ago; why would she decelerate so quickly?
“Mother, I don’t know. But I don’t want to take any chances. We need to get her information to them, just in case.”
Alice opened her purse and pulled out a long white business envelope that she’d folded in half. “I have her birth certificate here,” she said, resisting a sob.
John looked over at her in the passenger seat, a tiny, birdlike figure with a headful of wild red hair. She seemed to shrink before his eyes. Maybe bringing her along wasn’t such a generous idea after all.
“Why’d you think to bring it?” he asked.
Alice pointed to the back seat. “It was Dave’s idea,” she replied.
John looked at him in the review mirror, and he was frowning.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t think she had a passport,” Dave said. “I don’t know why I thought of it.”
“It was smart,” John said. “Thank you.”
When they got to the police station, Dave offered to go in with John.
“Alice, stay here,” he said. There was no point in her going in and getting upset. Dave knew the questions the police might ask would be harsh. Better not let her be exposed to it.
John left the car running to keep the air-conditioning going, instructing Alice to shut it off if she got too cold. She watched as they walked to the building together, talking. John gesticulated with his hand, piercing the air with his finger, and Dave nodded. She put her head back and closed her eyes. She thought of Lynn’s birth again; she’d been in labor for hours before Doug finally made her go to the hospital.
“I’m too nervous for you to hang around here, panting,” he said.
She didn’t want to go too early; it would mean leaving baby Faye with the in-laws that much longer. Doug won, though, and in between contractions, Alice did her make-up and brushed her teeth for the third time that day. He could hear her grunting, sounds he couldn’t remember her making when she was going to have Faye. He yelled to her. “Are you okay?”
She walked out of the bathroom with a red face, clenching her fists. “I think I might need to push.”
Oh, shit. He grabbed her overnight bag and her hand.
“Well, try not to,” he urged. “Let’s get going.”
Hilda was pacing the floor with a crying Faye on her hip, trying not to look concerned. “Breathe slowly through your mouth,” she said. “It’ll take the feeling away for a bit.”
She did as her mother-in-law said, and although it did help for a while, she finally gave up once she was in the back of the car. It didn’t make any difference, though. Lynn was stuck in the birth canal, and by the time they’d arrived at the hospital, her little buttocks were visible in between Alice’s legs. They rushed her into the labor room, and the kind doctor tried to deliver her vaginally. He had to push Lynn back up a little bit to get her legs out, and finally she was born.
The horror of it stayed with Alice, and she faithfully took birth control pills for the next two years, scared to get pregnant again. Secretly, she blamed herself—the delay going to the hospital, the breech birth—for Lynn’s current situation, and no amount of telling her otherwise would make a difference. She sat forward, opening her eyes, getting too close to the truth about her daughter. She lived in fear her family would bring it up again; Lynn was mentally ill from a young age and nothing was done about it. She would suffer for it for the rest of her life.
Chapter 29
Todd needed Alice’s help caring for his boys. His mother worked, and Rose was angry about the way she was treated at the funeral.
“You should have defended me when your wife was rude,” she said. “I’m your sister, not your whipping boy.”
He was too exhausted to reason with her. So until Alice got back from the hospital for Lynn’s surgery, he had to rely on his mistress, Bonnie. He knew it would cause a backlash with April’s family, but he didn’t care anymore, although the lawyer took on the case because of Faye.
Todd knew there could be problems if he wasn’t discreet. He picked Bonnie and baby Todd up Saturday night after April was taken into custody. He didn’t want her car at the house for his family to see. Junior and Mark took to Bonnie right away, holding her hand and playing with their baby brother for the first time. Bonnie made herself at home in the tiny house and, with Todd’s blessing, didn’t waste any time emptying April’s clothes out of the bedroom closet and dresser so she had a place for her own. She hated her own tiny one-bedroom apartment so close to Burger King that her hair smelled like their charbroiled burgers no matter how much she washed it. On Sunday, satisfied everyone would be okay in his absence, Todd left to see his wife.
Because April was picked up on a felony warrant, her lawyer was unable to arrange bail; the prosecutor was issuing an arrest warrant within twenty-four hours. April was stuck in jail, and she was a mad woman. Todd could hear her screaming when he tried to see her Sunday. He knew she badly needed a drink and wasn’t going to get one.
“Get me outta here!” she yelled. “I have to get outta here!” She repeated herself over and over again, the guard finally telling her to shut up.
“Cabrini, I’ve had enough of your nonsense. Shut up, or I’m going to make sure you won’t have a visitor until next Sunday.” But April didn’t care; she no longer had any control over her mouth or her actions. She grabbed the bars of her cell and tried to shake them loose. The futility of her situation suddenly overwhelmed her. She thought of Dougie in his little black suit, his red hair combed over to the side, sleeping in the coffin. He had a swash of freckles over the bridge of his nose and on his little cheeks. He was so smart, so good. But he wasn’t sleeping. He was dead. Not for the first time, the finality of his death washed over her, and she began to scream his name over and over again.
“Dougie!” she cried out. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Sobbing into the night, her eyes were almost swollen shut in her anguish. The guard would remember those words when it was her turn to testify on behalf of the prosecution.
~ ~ ~
The five Visiglio children stayed with Bill for the weekend. It was tight in the one-bedroom hotel apartment, but they had so much fun pretending to camp; the girls getting the bedroom and men staying on the fold-out couch and the floor. Just as Bill promised, they rented movies on HBO, ordered pizza,
and laughed. On Sunday, they went to a movie, then swam in the hotel pool during the afternoon. Although the pool at home was bigger and nicer, it was like being on vacation at the hotel. Bill kept a running tab going at the pool grill, and hot dogs and burgers flowed all day.
Faye was lost while the children were gone. She drank too much Saturday night, and when Paul the attorney called at nine with the news that April would be incarcerated until the trial, in her fuzzy state Faye thought he was flirtatious and inappropriate. It wasn’t until they’d hung up that she remembered Vinnie had probably told his sons about their affair. She felt awful.
Her house was more like a tomb, not offering any of the positive benefits it used to provide: pride, excitement, accomplishment. If the older children wanted to live with their father, she couldn’t justify staying in the big house, and Bill would force her to sell it. She imagined what her life would be like without him. Living in a small cottage like her mother or, worse, a condo. She’d have to find a job. She never worked, and her degree in horticulture wouldn’t take her very far. She’d end up working at the farm, like all the other loser women she grew up with. She remembered what she’d said to her mother a few short weeks ago, accusing Alice of skating through life, using Faye as a babysitter. After midnight, sick and ashamed that she’d been so cruel, she cried herself to sleep in a drunken stupor.
On Sunday, with a pounding headache and full-blown hangover, she was desperate enough to call her mother. Hoping to connect with another human being, the line was busy all morning. She was angry at Alice for not making herself available, entertaining the creepy guy she picked up on the side of the road instead of being with her daughters where she belonged. She aimlessly puttered around her beautiful, empty house, alternately crying for Dougie and cursing out Bill.
She tried to hide her enthusiasm when he returned with the kids later that afternoon. “Can you stay a minute?” she asked. “Kids, say bye to your father.”
The kids frowned, but worried Faye might start a fight again, did as she asked, kissed their father good-bye and took their belongings upstairs. As soon as they were out of earshot, Faye told him about Paul’s call; she was afraid he’d turn the tables on her, accusing her of making the gesture.
“So what are you saying? My brother made a pass at you over the phone? I think you have an oversized ego. Everyone is lusting after Faye! Watch out, because if you don’t let ’er know how desirable she is, she’ll accuse you of being inappropriate.” Bill snickered out loud. Although Faye was good looking, he was sure Paul wouldn’t risk his marriage trying to seduce her. He was short, chubby and bald; his wife twenty-five and gorgeous. They were such a cliché; he even drove the red corvette.
“Thanks, Bill. I knew I could count on you,” she said sadly. “You have never thought the best of me. Every fucking thing I do has ulterior motive.”
“That’s not true, and you know it. I just don’t think my brother is out to get you,” he said. “And if he is, well, just ignore him.” And then Bill remembered Vinnie. It was just possible his father spoke to Paul about the affair. Maybe Faye was correct; Paul could be sizing her up to see if she would succumb to his advances, too. He looked at Faye, a hangover obvious and, coming so soon after her nephew’s funeral, regrettable.
“Look, don’t talk to my brother, okay? If he has anything to say about April, he can tell Todd. I’ll tell him to leave you alone. Does that make you feel better?”
It did make her feel validated. “Yes, thank you,” she said.
He turned to leave, the shorter the visit, the better. But Faye was getting scared. She didn’t want him to go. In seconds, she weighed the consequences. If he walked out, she’d be left with the nightmare scenario of living alone in a shack. If he stayed, she’d be spending her life with someone she didn’t love so she could maintain her lifestyle. It was a brief pause, and he didn’t seem to notice her hesitate. But common sense won out, and she closed the door after he left, locking it securely behind him.
~ ~ ~
Lynn Bradshaw went to bed early Monday night. She wanted to get a good night’s sleep for the next day, fully intending on getting to the OR on time for her surgery. Her nightly visitor came to her bed. She lay on her back while he squeezed her breasts, and it crossed her mind sadly that one of them might be gone the next day. It was the first time she thought of her body and what possibilities lay ahead.
After the stylist left before dawn, whispering that he’d be waiting for her after surgery, she ran her hands over her chest. She was very thin; the ribs evident above and below her breasts. And the breasts themselves were small, soft mounds that fell just to the side of her body. She reached up and grasped both of them. They were so insignificant. Really, for causing so much trouble, they should have had more presence, a greater use.
She reached under her arm and palpated the armpit. She thought she could feel pea-sized growths, a string of them traveling from the upper, outer quadrant of her breast area to the side of her body. She reached down and did the same thing in her groin. She thought she felt enlargements there, too. If it were so easy, they wouldn’t need X-rays. But what if it had spread to her entire body? She went through the scenario of being a cancer patient. Having to get chemotherapy while living in a shelter. Losing her beautiful red hair. She’d not shed a single tear for Dougie, but for what she needed to do for herself, she shed one. Just one drop of liquid coming from her eye traveled down her face, angling toward her mouth. She stuck her tongue out and grabbed it.
Lynn got off her cot and pulled her clothes on. The papers she needed for the hospital were in a manila folder, and she picked that up, too. She waved to the receptionist.
“Leaving so early?” she asked.
“Have to be to the hospital at six-thirty,” Lynn answered, letting herself out the door. The humidity hit her in the face after the air-conditioning of the shelter.
The hospital was a right turn; she made a left. She walked ten blocks, dumping her papers in a trash can by a Wawa. She came to Market Street, the bridge in her sight. The closer she got to it, the better she felt about everything. Why’d she wait so long? Maybe she’d been hoping life would become more interesting for her. There was that little tease of happiness that was trying to lure her into a false sense of security. She’d felt discounted most of her life. There was no reason to think that would change now.
When she came to the bridge, the early morning traffic was light, so it didn’t take very long for her to reach the center of the footpath, at what she hoped was the deepest part of the river. She stretched up as far as she could; the side rail was a lot higher than she thought it would be, but she was determined and, with a final boost of energy, flung herself over the side. She might have held on for just a second, a mere millisecond, before she let go. The breeze her falling body created felt good on her legs, and she was dreaming of her father singing to her when she slammed into the rock-hard water.
Chapter 30
John drove out of the city toward home, depressed and angry at himself. He should have forced Lynn to stay at his house for the few days before her surgery, but he wanted to be alone with Beth. He was hopeful she’d forgive him and they would be able to move on. The way she’d responded forced him to see that he’d experienced just a fraction of her wrath. Beth, who was always loving and supportive, who put him first, making sure all of his needs were met, that the house was an oasis for him, had reached her limit. She’d fixed breakfast for the family and then initiated a packing party in which each child was responsible for getting their own suitcase and belongings ready to take for a week down the shore. John was not invited. His kids didn’t even ask him if he was coming. He passed Brian in the hall and thought the kid snickered as he walked by.
“Did you just laugh?” John asked, paranoid.
“What’d you care,” Brian replied. “We’ll be outta your hair for a week; you should be thrilled.”
John wanted to grab his arm and shake him. But he was speaking the truth
. John would be alone for a week, with no decisions to be made and no demands made on him. If he had the energy, he’d go back into town and look for Lynn. He was pissed off that she could be so selfish.
“She’s mentally ill, John. You should know better than to have any expectations of her,” Alice reminded him. “I’m afraid they are going to find her body somewhere.”
“Mother! That’s awful,” John said. But she was mirroring his thoughts exactly. “Let’s try to keep pessimism out of this.”
“I’m her mother, John. Believe it or not, I worry about Lynn. I think it’s a realistic concern that she could get murdered or die of exposure or, God forbid, take her own life.”
There was silence in the car as they drove back to the hospital. John pulled up behind Dave’s truck and got out to hug his mother. He’d told the police to phone him, so if there was any bad news, John would be calling her, not the police.
“Are you sticking around?” John asked Dave.
“Just for today,” he said. “But I’ll be back.” He looked down at Alice. They had a lot to work out together.
John drove home. In the garage, the space where Beth’s car usually sat was empty. He felt a little pinch of relief. He got out of the car and stood watching the garage door closing. It wouldn’t be opening again for the rest of the week.
~ ~ ~
Dave and Alice drove to her house in silence. She noticed the fields were empty, the blueberry bushes resting for a few days as the fruit matured. The sight of the house relaxed her, and she yawned as they approached.
“Tired?” Dave asked.
She shook her head. “It’s just stress.” She didn’t say it out loud, although the thought crossed her mind, that his presence added to it. Although she was glad Dave was with her now, she couldn’t deny that it was causing problems.
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