by Darien Gee
“Hey,” comes a voice from behind her.
Max is the first to react. He squirms out of Ava’s arms. “Auntie Isabel!”
Ava stiffens, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She doesn’t bother to stand up right away.
“Hey, kiddo,” she hears Isabel say. There’s the sound of Max’s laughter and suddenly Ava finds herself more irritated than upset.
“Max, go inside,” she says when she turns around.
“But I don’t want to,” he protests. He edges closer to Isabel, which irritates Ava even more.
Ava picks up the plastic jack-o’-lantern and the stray bottle caps that have fallen off, drops them inside the jack-o’-lantern, and then jams the whole thing into the large trash bag. Max doesn’t even notice; he’s too busy gazing up at Isabel like she’s some kind of superstar. Ava looks at the plastic pumpkin rolling around among the trash, is tempted to pluck it out for a moment, but doesn’t. It won’t be much of a Halloween this year anyway. Ava’s parents have never been big on Halloween, and she doubts they’ll let Max do much trick-or-treating if at all.
“Max,” Isabel says, her voice more animated than Ava’s ever heard. “I need to talk to your mom about some grown-up stuff. Can you run inside for a sec?”
“Are you going to see my room after?” he asks.
“Maybe,” Isabel says, not looking at Ava. “Go on, okay?”
Max nods his head and shuffles into the house, looking at them forlornly.
“Go on,” Ava says. “I’ll be in soon.” She closes the front door softly, then turns to look at Isabel, arms crossed. “What?”
“Okay, take it easy,” Isabel says. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
“It doesn’t matter why you’re here,” Ava says. “You won. I’m gone. You’ll never be bothered by me again. Problem solved.”
“Come on, Ava. Don’t get all third grade on me. I know I was out of line with what I said about Max’s preschool, and I’m sorry.”
Ava studies her, unsure of Isabel’s sincerity. When she sees that Isabel means it, she gives a reluctant nod. “You were totally out of line,” she says.
“I just said I was,” Isabel says. She leans against the railing and then jumps back when it wobbles precariously, sees the bolts loose in the cement.
“Before you say anything, yes, I know the railing isn’t safe and yes, I know my landlord should fix it. In fact, he’s right over there in unit A-5 if you want to take it up with him.” Ava turns around and knots the top of the garbage bag.
“Very funny,” Isabel says. “I thought I was about to fall to my death for a second there. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it?”
Despite herself, Ava feels a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Yes,” she says. “It sure would be.”
“And before you get any ideas about pushing me off yourself—which, okay, I might deserve—I’m here because I have a proposition for you and Max.”
“A proposition?” Ava looks at her warily.
“A proposition,” Isabel repeats. “I don’t know if you know, but I took my house off the market. I won’t be selling, and I won’t be leaving Avalon after all. The truth is I thought that maybe Bettie would want to stay with me, but Abe and Imogene want her to move in with them and Dr. Richard thinks it’s worth a try.” Isabel’s nose is wrinkling in a funny way, like she’s about to sneeze. “Anyway, I suddenly have a house that’s way too big for me. So I’m looking for renters. Housemates.”
Ava stares at her. Is she serious? “You want me to rent from you? Live with you?” Her voice rises to a squeaky pitch. “In Bill’s old house?”
Isabel suddenly looks nervous. “Um, yes. Though I hadn’t really thought of it like that, but yes.”
Now Ava has to sit down. She opens the front door and walks inside, then remembers she sold all of their furniture. She leans against a wall and lets herself slide down until she’s sitting on the box of Max’s toys. “Is this a joke?”
“I know it’s weird,” Isabel says, coming in after her. “I know we don’t even get along … yet. But here’s the thing. I think Bill would like Max to be in that house. And you, too.”
“What about you?”
“Well, yeah, me, too. It is my house, after all.” Isabel looks snippy now but blows out her breath. “So it’ll be the three of us. There’s plenty of room and we won’t get in each other’s way. Max could even have his own room.”
Ava lets out a wry laugh. “Us, living together,” she snorts.
“It isn’t the craziest thing in the world,” Isabel says, a little offended.
“It’s definitely the craziest thing in the world,” Ava tells her, her voice taking on a slightly hysterical peal. “What would people think?”
Isabel looks at her. “Why do you even care?” she asks. “I personally don’t think I give a damn anymore. I think the only people still thinking about it are you and me. And Bill, if you count him, but he’s dead, so he doesn’t really get a full vote.”
Ava gives a sad shake of her head. “How do you do that?” she asks, her voice suddenly quiet. “How do you not miss him?”
Isabel stuffs her hands in her jacket. “I tell bad jokes to get through it,” she says. “I stay mad and look for people to blame.”
Ava looks away. “I miss him,” she says. “But lately it’s been feeling different, I don’t know why.” She looks back at Isabel, her face stricken. “I’m afraid I’m going to forget about him. And then Max won’t know anything about his father at all.”
“So move into the house.” Isabel comes to stand next to her, then crouches down. “Let Max live where Bill lived. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m supposed to stay in the house a little while longer, but not by myself. I thought it was about Bettie, but I see now it’s you. And you are the one who said you wanted Max to get to know me,” Isabel reminds her.
“Oh,” Ava says, sniffing. “Great, blame me.”
“It was your idea,” Isabel points out, and there’s a smile on her face. “Look Ava, it doesn’t have to be a forever thing. Just a now thing. When you’re ready to move on, move on. Unless you have someplace else you’d rather be.”
Ava shakes her head. “I was going to stay with my parents back in Montana,” she says. “But to be honest, that’s the last place I want to be.”
“So it’s settled,” Isabel says. “I’m going to call Yvonne and have her come help us move.” She pulls out her cellphone but Ava grasps her arm.
“Isabel,” she says. “I can’t pay you any rent. I don’t have any money, I don’t have a job …”
Isabel snaps her phone shut. “Oh, that,” she says. “I ran into Oma Frank at the Pick and Save yesterday. She’s Dr. Tindell’s receptionist. Apparently Dr. Tindell’s dental assistant is about to quit her job to go work for Dr. Marks over in Barrett. He’s offering a generous compensation package that Dr. Tindell can’t match, so she’s leaving.”
Ava’s breath catches in her throat. She remembers Dr. Tindell, about how Bill wished he’d partnered with him instead of Randall.
“It’s a small practice, as you know, and he’s been keeping more of a part-time schedule. Both he and Oma will probably retire in the next five to ten years. So anyone coming on board should know that.”
Ava nods her head, afraid to say anything in case it all disappears.
“It also means that whoever works for him would have some flexibility, which would let them, I don’t know, spend more time with their son.” Isabel can’t help grinning. “And work on their bottle-cappy thingy.”
A cloud comes over Ava’s face. “But Dr. Strombauer … he won’t give me a job recommendation. Dr. Tindell will be expecting one, don’t you think?”
“Probably,” Isabel concedes. “Which is why I’ll be writing it for you.”
Ava looks at her, not comprehending. “You?”
“Well, technically Bill’s share of the dental practice was his and mine, at least on paper. I never had much interest, as y
ou know, and that was probably part of the problem. So I’ll write about my relationship to the practice and what I observed through Bill. Professionally, that is. Dr. Tindell knows what happened between you and Bill. But he also knows you were a good dental assistant. My guess is that if I, of all people, can vouch for you, you’ll probably have a fair shot at being considered. Would you be interested if that were the case?”
Ava nods quickly, her eyes bright with tears. Happy ones.
Isabel’s looking a bit weepy herself, but she straightens up and clears her throat. “So to recap, you and Max leave this”—she looks around distastefully—“place and move in with me. Check?” Isabel waits, then says impatiently, “This is where you say check back.”
“Oh!” Ava wipes her eyes. “Yes! Check!”
“Next, you apply for that job with Dr. Tindell with a recommendation from me. Check?”
“Check!”
“And finally, you get Max enrolled in the Montessori preschool in Avalon, at least on the days when you’re working. I’ll help cover tuition until you’re back on your feet—consider it part of the Bill Kidd Scholarship Fund. We can argue about this later. Check?”
“Check!” Ava stands up. “Isabel, I don’t know how to thank you.” She takes a step forward and is about to give Isabel a hug when she can see that Isabel’s already embarrassed enough. “Okay, I’ll save the hug for another time.”
“We can work up to it,” Isabel mumbles in agreement.
“I can’t wait to tell Max,” Ava begins, then stops. She turns to look back at Isabel. “Isabel, do you know why I wanted Max to know you? Why I felt it was important?”
Isabel shakes her head. “Aside from thinking you were a bit crazy, no, I have no idea.”
“Because I knew that someday I would have to explain this all to him. Why his father and I weren’t married when he was conceived, the circumstances under which we met. And if Max couldn’t have Bill, I wanted—hoped—he could have or be a part of the things his father loved. Like you.”
Isabel looks stunned. Her mouth opens and then closes.
For the first time since she and Isabel have met, Ava is pleased to see that she’s rendered Isabel speechless. “Yes, I’m talking about you.”
Isabel’s cheeks pink but she’s quick to recover. “So I’m the next best thing?” she says, pretending to look offended, but she’s grinning, too.
Ava laughs, feeling her spirits rise so high she wouldn’t be surprised if she took flight. “Most definitely.”
Yvonne picks up the phone, listens to the dial tone, then puts it down again. She does this two or three more times before finally punching in the number on the scrap of paper in her hand.
If anyone else was doing what Yvonne was about to do, Yvonne would have been a good friend and told them to let it go, to hang up the phone, to move on. That’s why she didn’t tell Isabel what she was doing. Yvonne doesn’t want to be persuaded to let this go. She needs to know.
She holds her breath when the phone on the other end starts to ring. It takes several rings before someone finally picks up.
“Hello? Wait, hold on.” The woman answering the phone sounds young. A baby is crying in the background and Yvonne hears the phone being muffled as the woman shouts, “Annabelle, can you check on your brother for me? Thanks.”
Yvonne sinks down into the plush armchair. She should hang up. This is such a bad idea and she knows she’s going to regret it later, but she can’t bring herself to put the receiver back in the cradle. She’s never let herself think about what his life might be like, never even considered other women. It’s a little more reality than Yvonne is ready for, but still she can’t hang up.
“Sorry,” the woman says. “Hello?”
Yvonne clears her throat. “I’m calling for Sam Kenney. Is he available?”
“No, sorry. Would you like to leave a message?” There’s a loud pop and Yvonne realizes the woman is chewing gum.
“That’s all right,” Yvonne says quickly. “When do you expect him back?”
“In about three hours. He and Mrs. Kenney went out for dinner. Hold on … Annabelle, did you check on Harry? Well, why not?”
It dawns on her that she’s talking to the babysitter. Yvonne wants to laugh with relief, but at the same time, it’s a small triumph. It’s finally confirmed. There is definitely a Mrs. Kenney, and she’s with him right now. And there are children.
“Who’s calling?” the babysitter asks.
“Um, Census Bureau,” Yvonne lies. “I’ll try him later, thank you.” She quickly hangs up, cheeks flaming.
What was she thinking, almost interrupting Sam’s life like that? Yvonne shakes her head, then stares at the piece of paper with his number on it. Finding out that he lived in Bangor, Maine, was easy enough—Yvonne suspects he’s the only Samuel Anami Kenney out there in the world. His middle name was the result of a hospital clerical error—when his parents couldn’t agree on a middle name, they told the hospital administration to write “NMI”—No Middle Name—on the form so they could be discharged. The clerk thought it was his name and wrote Anami, and they never bothered to change it.
“It could have been worse,” Sam had joked. “She could have written Enema.”
Yvonne smiles at the memory, and it’s enough. She takes one last look at the piece of paper, then tears it up into small pieces. She goes to the bathroom and tosses the scraps into the toilet, and flushes.
As she watches the water swirl and carry the papers away, the phone rings. Yvonne’s answering machine picks up and a second later she hears Isabel’s voice wafting through the room, telling her the good news that Ava and Max have both said yes and could she please bring her truck? Like now?
Yvonne was quick to grab her keys, happy for the distraction.
“This is weird, isn’t it?” Ava kept saying, more to herself than anyone as they lugged her things into Yvonne’s truck and then later into Isabel’s house.
“It gets weirder every time you say it’s weird,” Isabel had retorted. “So stop it.”
That was pretty much when Yvonne knew they’d be all right.
When the bulk of the moving was done, Isabel, Ava, and Max headed back to Ava’s apartment to give it a thorough scrub-down so Ava could get her security deposit back. Yvonne just wanted to take a hot shower and crawl into bed.
Her answering machine light is blinking when she walks in. Yvonne glances at it as she walks by, intent on getting into her pj’s, when she sees the number of messages. 15. It’s not for work, because all of those calls go to her cellphone, but people can find her just as easily in the book. She’s about to hit the play button when her phone suddenly rings, making her jump back. She reaches for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Yvonne?”
At the sound of his voice, everything seems to stop. “Sam?”
“It is you,” he says, and she feels a leap of joy. His voice is warm and reassuring, carrying a hint of amusement. “Yvonne Tate. So you work for the Census Bureau now?”
Oh God. There’s no use in pretending. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to … well, never mind. How did you know it was me?” she asks.
“Caller ID. I almost had a heart attack when I saw your name. I figured it couldn’t be right, but it was. Is. I can’t believe it’s you, E.”
E, her nickname. Yvonne closes her eyes, doesn’t know if she can pretend that this conversation is like any other, that the person on the other end of the phone isn’t someone she’s loved, and lost. “Sam,” she finally manages. “I didn’t mean to call out of the blue—”
“But you did,” he tells her. “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? You’ve disrupted me on the eve of middle life and you don’t even know why? Am I supposed to pretend you never called?” He sounds upset.
“I’m sorry!” she bursts out. “I … I needed to …”
“Yvonne, take it easy,” Sam says quickly with a laugh. “I w
as kidding. I’m just nervous and you know I mess around when I’m nervous. Some things never change, I guess.” He sighs, then says, “It’s great to hear from you. You sound exactly the same.” His voice is softer now.
Her chest feels like it might cave in. She knows she should end it now, that she’s gotten what she wanted. A chance to hear him say her name.
But she can’t hang up, knowing that he’s standing there, heart beating, on the other end of the line. It’s almost more than she can bear. She wishes she could reach out and touch him, make sure it’s really him, that this is really happening. “So how are you?” she asks. “What do you do?”
“My job, you mean?” Sam chuckles. “Nothing as glamorous as what you’re doing, I’m sure. I’m a ranger with the National Park Service, stationed over at Acadia National Park.”
“A man in uniform,” Yvonne says, and smiles.
“That’s me. I offer hikes, walks, boat cruises, talks, show the kids the peregrine falcons and raptors. I take my job very seriously.” Even though it’s been ten years, Yvonne can almost picture him leaning back, the phone tucked under his chin, arms crossed.
“You’re a long way from the bogs,” she says.
He laughs. “Six hours away,” he says. “I didn’t exactly put a whole lot of distance between us.”
“It was enough,” Yvonne says. There’s a long, awkward pause.
“Can I see you?” Sam says. “If that’s all right with you? I can come to wherever you are—is this area code Illinois?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Yvonne says carefully. “I just wanted to know that you’re okay.”
“I’m okay. More than okay, actually.”
“And you have Annabelle and Harry now,” Yvonne says.
“Last time I looked. They’re around here somewhere though it’s nearing bedtime.”
“Harry,” Yvonne says, finally putting it together. Sam’s father.