Analise covered her face in kisses. “I imagine my sweet baby girl with your dreamy eyes and brilliant mind.”
“And your beautiful smile,” Claire said. “Why is having a child important to you?”
“To keep the species going, silly.”
“What species, lesbians?” Claire laughed.
Analise unbuttoned Claire’s pants and slipped her hand inside. She knew how to shut her up.
Her primal senses focused elsewhere, Analise was unaware of Evelyn Sommers’ old Monte Carlo as it coughed up the driveway. When Claire began kissing her chest, she heard her own heated sighs, not Claire’s mother entering the house and calling out she was home. Neither of them heard her mother plod down the hallway to her bedroom and change out of her day clothes into some comfortable sweats. Evelyn Sommers’ presence became apparent only when she opened the bedroom door and screamed.
“Claire Louise Sommers!”
“Mother!”
Claire tried to yank her hand out of Analise’s jeans but failed. Reflex caused her to knock Analise to the floor. With her hand still trapped in Analise’s pants, she tumbled on top of her.
They were at her mercy but Evelyn’s eyes showed no pity. Analise felt like a mouse in a trap awaiting reprisal from a large cat. She stared down with an infinite frown. Analise wished for a trap door or a man with a red cape to rescue her from this fate.
“Please compose yourself, Claire,” her mother sneered. She sat at Claire’s desk and sighed as if it were her final breath. It was a raspy wheeze heavy smokers get. Evelyn Sommers lit up.
Analise wanted to crawl out the door. Evelyn stood between her and freedom. She pulled her knees to her chest, and did her level best to avoid her eyes.
“Don’t you believe in knocking?” Claire asked.
Analise cringed when Claire dropped a protective arm over her shoulder.
“I didn’t know I needed to knock on your bedroom door at twelve thirty at night. I saw your light on. I figured you were reading.”
“Analise just came over to show me her acceptance letter.”
“Congratulations, Ana. How’s your mom?” Evelyn smoked. Analise squirmed.
“She’s fine. In fact I really should be going.”
“In a minute right after our talk.” Evelyn dragged on her cigarette and used her left hand as an ashtray. “Number one, don’t ever smoke these vile things, they’ll make your teeth and fingers yellow. They give you premature crow’s feet and cause little fine lines around your mouth. So, even when you do want to fix yourself up and put on some lipstick the lipstick drifts into the lines and makes them look even more pronounced.”
“We don’t smoke, Mom,” Claire interrupted.
Analise shook her head. “No way!”
“Good. Well, about what I witnessed here. I will not have this going on in my house. Sex is sex, Claire Louise, and you are not allowed to have it until you are married. Now, I didn’t raise a lesbian, so I’m forced to believe Analise is to blame. I’m sorry, Analise, but you do have a provocative way about you. It’s not your fault. Your mother was notorious in high school for being a whore.”
“Mother!” Claire yelled. She pulled Analise closer.
Evelyn continued, “There was a day I might have fainted at the sight of my only child in such a compromising position with another girl, but as you know, since your father left I have hardened. I lost my faith and my beliefs. I turned my back on the church and I will turn my back on anything else I don’t believe in. I don’t believe in this. Do you understand me Claire Louise?”
Claire scowled and stared at a stain on the rug.
“Analise, I trust this will be the last time you visit this house. Say your good-byes and get out.”
* * * *
“Her mother caught you in the act? How embarrassing,” Devon chuckled.
“Yes, it was,” Claire, agreed as she joined them in the bedroom “That was not the last time Analise came over. Nothing could keep us apart.”
Analise giggled. “True.”
“What a brilliant beginning. I wish you had left out the sex parts,” Devon chuckled. “And the part about my grandmother being a whore.”
“I wish I hadn’t waited so long to be with you,” Claire told Analise as she caressed her face.
Analise sighed. “I know, I wish that, too. I wish I wasn’t sick, I wish I had been a better parent, I wish I never had to share you with Burke Danforth.”
“Don’t,” Claire murmured. “Please, Ana.”
“I never told you how hard it was on me, how many sleepless nights I spent wondering about what went on in your bedroom.”
“Ana, stop.”
“You don’t know how difficult this transition was for me. You didn’t know the first night we were here I slipped out and went to Wal-Mart.”
“Wal-Mart?” Claire scowled. “Why on earth would you go there?”
Analise shrugged. “I always do. It’s open all night, it’s brightly lit, and it keeps me humble.”
* * * *
Analise walked the deserted aisles of the local Wal-Mart. She noticed it on their way in through town. She often roamed the aisles when insomnia plagued her. It started when Burke and Claire first got married. Analise hadn’t slept a wink during their honeymoon, haunted by images of him with her, touching her, taking her, disturbed more by the prospect Claire might be enjoying it. Burke Danforth was, after all, a beautiful man. Analise fell prey to her second sleepless season when Claire and Burke were trying to conceive. That was when her romance with her little blue pills began. The blessed prescription chased the anxiety away like a monster from a child’s closet.
Claire never had to worry about ‘Mr. Van Sykes’ as she called him, because he was completely impotent. Claire never offered Analise that same peace of mind. She insisted sex with Burke was a wifely commitment.
Analise couldn’t stomach the same commitment to Andrew Van Sykes. She moved into her own bedroom after a few years of marriage. Claire never lost any sleep over what her lover was doing between the hours of dusk and dawn.
The thought of all those years of sharing Claire with him made her angry. It was going to be hard to get used to the idea they were finally together. She’d been living for the day. She’d waited over thirty years. The one single day that fortified her through an unhappy existence. Here it was, her magical day, and she was walking around in a Wal-Mart in a strange city. The sorrow of leaving Devon without a good-bye or a forwarding address shadowed her happy day. How could Claire think it wouldn’t have?
Analise was grateful for the familiarity of the department store and walked her normal route straight back to the toys. Good old Wal-Mart was a familiar place open and anonymous at three a.m. She snuck out of bed and took her cell phone without disturbing Claire. She restored service hours ago and dialed Devon a half a dozen times.
She walked past the shoe area and tried Devon again. Her phone went straight to voicemail and Analise didn’t bother to leave another message. Devon had every right to be angry as hell.
Analise now realized she’d been guilty of being an idle parent. She’d become a person who allowed things to come about instead of making them happen. She turned a blind eye through much of Devon’s upbringing though she knew she should intervene when Claire was too harsh. She always tried to keep the peace. That had been her excuse. How long had Claire been guiding her, manipulating everyone around them, while Analise remained forever her faithful, taciturn accomplice, not willing to rock the boat or rile Claire’s temper? What was her excuse now?
She picked up a pair of cheap sneakers and smiled. They were low budget shoes that came attached to the other by a piece of plastic, making it a challenge to try them on without falling on your ass. No doubt, it would have been ‘lashed together Wal-Mart shoes’ for all of them if Claire hadn’t devised a way for them to be wealthy. The fact was there wouldn’t even be a Devon without Claire. That knowledge was bittersweet. She tried on the sneakers, managed not to fall and decided to buy
them despite of their lack of support and cheap vinyl uppers. It would be humbling to get back to her roots and to remember where she came from, even if it started with a cheap pair of shoes.
In the next aisle, she heard a woman scolding her young daughter for not picking out the right size.
“What’s wrong with you, Dumb Ass? I need a nine not an eight.”
Analise winced and peered down the aisle. The harsh words made her bristle. She shuddered in the wake of the deep seeded memories that came raging back. She saw the woman holding a wooden heeled sandal in each hand.
Analise averted her gaze and hurried by the aisle.
She heard the child begin to wail and the woman’s voice replied with contempt. “Shut up would you? You’re such a cry baby.”
Analise gasped. Bitter childhood memories raced through her mind. She cringed to recall his harsh language, the calluses, and the callousness of the back of his hand. Analise never raised an angry hand to Devon, nor an unforgivable word, however she realized now she had never rushed to Devon’s defense either. As her mother hadn’t rushed to hers.
Analise peered down the aisle, the woman was still there, the child still crying. She sidled down the aisle pretending to look at shoes. The closer she got to the woman the nicer she was to her daughter. If nothing else, Analise could save the child from humiliation by her proximity.
She and the woman went for the same shoebox at the same time. They both laughed.
Analise looked into the woman’s eyes and was stunned by what she saw, she was not a woman as she’d thought, but a teenage child.
“Your daughter is precious,” Analise smiled.
“My daughter? I don’t have a daughter, I’m just fourteen.”
“Oh, I thought you were a grown woman for a second there and I thought I saw a little girl with you,” Analise muttered, as she looked around, bewildered that they were alone. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not wearing my glasses.”
“Yes you are.”
Analise felt her glasses. “Right.” She laughed. “They are on my face.” She turned to go. “I guess I’m seeing things.”
“Ma’am,” the girl touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m not drunk if that’s what you think. I’m just up later than I should be. I’m fatigued.” She noticed the girl’s pendant. Analise reached out and touched it. “What a lovely owl pendant, how unique.”
“Thank you.” The girl clutched Analise’s hand. Her touch was warm and calming.
“I don’t think you’re drunk. I think you are not well. You have a disease inside you and it makes you tired and makes your eyes red. I also think you are sad and you miss your daughter very much.”
Analise began to cry. The young girl took Analise in her arms.
“Yes, everything you said is true,” she sobbed against the girl’s dark hair. “I am a horrible mother, that’s why I got sick I think.”
“A cure will come, a cure will come, and this sickness will be done,” the girl whispered. “The cure will be a delicious tea, drink it often and you will see.”
“What a sweet rhyme.”
Analise realized she was alone. The girl was gone and she was no longer in the shoe department. She clutched a large plush toy against her chest, soggy from her abrupt tears. She held it away from her. It was an owl with large, expressive eyes. Analise glanced up the vacant aisle, realizing she must have imagined the girl.
She traced the bridge of her nose, feeling the crooked bump. She envisioned his fist coming at her and the sudden impact. She flinched at the memory of the cartilage snap. His perfect punch blackened both eyes. The black changed to many hues that summer, settling for an ugly yellowish tinge. Aviator sunglasses had been the rage back then and she’d hid behind them or in her room for most of her summer break. Her father bought her the sunglasses but he never did apologize.
You must clear away your past so your new life may be born. Release your pain and grief.
Analise whirled around. She was alone in the vacant aisle. She massaged her forehead. The lights were too bright. A wave of nausea swept her. She caught herself on the shelf and waited for it to pass. She clutched the owl. She had to get home and back into her warm bed. She noticed the sneakers in her hand and frowned. So she had been in the shoe aisle. Therefore, the woman who was really a girl was possibly real. She decided to purchase the shoes to mark the event authentic. The medicine she was taking was heavy and jumbled her mind. She had no business out of the house. When she got to the register she watched, dazed, as the cashier rang her purchases, a pair of sneakers and a stuffed owl.
“Oh, you bought Jo Jo,” the cashier grinned, showing off a brown tooth.
“Pardon me?” Analise frowned.
“That’s the owl’s name, it’s Jo Jo.” She showed Analise the tag. “Jo Jo the Wise Owl. Is this for your grandbaby? It’s so cute I love owls. They have people looking eyes, eyes that seem to look right into your soul.”
“Uh huh,” Analise muttered as she took her purchases.
“Release your guilt and set yourself free.”
“What?” When Analise glanced back, she realized the cashier was busy with the next customer.
* * * *
“I wasn’t aware you’d even left the house,” Claire sighed. “I’m not a good caretaker, I suppose.”
“That isn’t your duty,” Analise replied.
Devon watched them, feeling remote, like a glass partition separated them. Her mother’s experience in the department store was a mystical one. Her mother leaked a secret in the telling. Had it been intentional? Devon felt her pulse race as she studied Claire. She appeared cool as ever. She hadn’t noticed her mother’s slip up.
“Devon, will you go to my room and get the owl? I want you to see it,” Analise asked. “I know it’s silly but I sometimes sleep with it at night. Remember your collection of stuffed animals? I can’t count how many dogs and wolves you had piled on your bed.”
Devon forced a smile and avoided her mother’s eyes. She jumped up, eager to leave them and exhale the truth. “Sure Mom, I’ll get it for you.”
She found the owl on the bedside table. Odd, she hadn’t noticed it before. She read the tag labeled Jo Jo the Wise Owl. Empathy for her mother’s disease tugged at her until she surrendered like quicksand, melting onto the downy bed. She clutched the stuffed owl and pulled her knees to her chest. Now permeated with owl energy, Devon could see.
Devon realized that Analise predicted Jameson’s curing tea in her dream-trance at Wal-mart. Well, the imaginary girl/woman had.
A cure will come, a cure will come and this sickness will be done.
The most intriguing part was that there would not even be a Devon without Claire.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Devon searched the house until she found Claire in her room examining the painting of the Shawnodese.
“You’re not a dog or a wolf,” Claire murmured. “You are, in fact, coyote.”
“Hello, Mother.”
Claire jumped. “Oh you scared me Devon. No, your mother is not here. She’s downstairs on the lanai having her tea.”
“Actually, she is right here in front of me,” Devon replied. Her tight smile felt like a snarl. A growl rose in her throat but Devon swallowed it down.
Claire chuckled and gave an awkward snort. She turned back to the painting and gnawed on her lower lip, as if hoping Devon would disappear.
“Aren’t you sick of the lies?”
“Infirm and ailing from them,” Claire whispered.
“Then heal yourself and admit the truth.”
“Trevor was adopted. He’s not related to you at all. That should be a comfort.”
“Yes, it’s fabulous you love birds didn’t push me into an incestuous relationship. Bravo Claire!”
“He doesn’t know he was adopted, I beg you to keep this secret for me. He’s innocent in all this.”
“You have a lot of secrets, don’t you, Mother?” Devon replied. She spit ou
t the word mother as if it was bitter in her mouth. “Am I another minor detail in your ridiculous plan?
Claire appraised her with eyes that said they had never met. “Secrets, yes, I have a few. And you are no minor detail.”
“I see it clearly now. My mother wanted kids, you didn’t. She couldn’t conceive and you could. So Burke Danforth is my father and you are my mother?”
“No, Analise is your mother.” Claire puffed out her chest and attempted to sidle past Devon.
Devon grabbed Claire’s arm hard enough to make her yelp. Devon found a measure of guilt in the pleasure she felt. She got in Claire’s face, amused by the shock in her eyes and her sudden lack of composure. Devon pressed her against the doorjamb.
“Yes, Analise is my mother. Now admit I am your biological daughter.”
Claire wrestled Devon to get out the door.
“You have betrayed those you feared would destroy you. All along, you were your worst enemy. Growth escalates as you seek answers in the south. At the end of the dark night is a beautiful dawn. Purge your heart with honesty before you drown in your emotions. Be free, be buoyant. Float, Mother Duck.”
Devon felt Claire shiver. A moan escaped her.
“What did you say?” she whispered to Devon.
It was something Devon never thought she’d live to see. Claire buried her face in her hands and shuddered with great, wailing sobs. Years of suppressed emotions rushed in a torrent. Devon guided Claire to the bed and sat next to her, rocking her, soothing her naturally. She felt her anger wash away as the waves subsided.
“Analise was devastated when she couldn’t conceive,” Claire whispered. “All she ever wanted was a child. She became tragically depressed. She hardly ate and wouldn’t leave the house. She mourned for the child she could never have. Burke was sterile and she hated him anyway. An opportunity arose for me to adopt and I took it, hoping it would satisfy her, but it didn’t. She wanted her own child, she wanted a girl.” She looked up at Devon and tried to smile. “She wanted you.”
“Why didn’t she adopt?”
“She wanted to have a child with me. She wanted it to be mine.”
Long Snows Moon Page 17