Scrap Everything

by Leslie Gould

  Ainsley blushed.

  Rebekah handed each photo to Elise, shot after shot of a horse—by the barn, in the field, under a tree. “What a beautiful horse.” Elise smiled at Rebekah. At last, a way to get the conversation focused on horseback riding.

  Rebekah laughed, held a photo in midair, and then handed it to Elise. “Look, our charming sons.” Mark and Reid scowled at each other, their helmets clenched in their hands.

  “Oops.” Ainsley reached out her hand for the photos.

  Elise placed a navy-blue sheet of paper against the black page of the scrapbook and then arranged three newborn photos of Mark in the middle.

  Sandi dropped her keys into her bag and placed a red-checkered strip of paper on the table.

  Elise moved the photos into a different configuration. Maybe she should sort the photos first, the whole box. She could keep busy without committing anything to the page.

  “A baby-blue border would look striking.” Sandi rummaged through her file. “Here.” She handed Elise a piece of paper.

  “Thanks.” Was Sandi warming up to her?

  Sandi pulled a page of strawberry stickers from her bag. “Scrapbooking is the ultimate in preserving memories—better than photos alone or even video.”

  “How’s that?” Elise rested her chin in her hand.

  “See this picture?” It was the group photo of the women with Sandi on the end. “My butt looks really big in it. See this strawberry sticker? Voilà, my big butt is gone.” Sandi slapped strawberry stickers around the entire photo.

  “You could have just trimmed the photo.”

  “Cropped,” Sandi corrected, then whispered, “The stickers aren’t as obvious.”

  Elise smiled. Revisionist scrapbooking.

  A minute later Sandi joined a group of women across the room. Elise sat alone. Rebekah joined the group. All the women laughed at once. Elise sank back in her chair and stared at the lonely baby photos of bald little Mark. A phone began to ring, and a couple of the women in the group ran for their purses. Elise dug in her coat pocket. “It’s mine.”

  “Did Mark go with you?” Ted asked.

  “No.” Elise almost laughed at the thought of Mark in this crowd of women.

  “He’s not here. We stopped by Dad’s on the way home and just got in. Mark’s gone.”

  “Are his shoes there? His coat?” Elise lowered her voice and turned toward the balcony rail.

  “I don’t know. How many pairs of shoes does he have? How many coats?”

  If she were home, she could tell in ten seconds flat if any shoes, sweatshirts, coats, or jackets were missing. “Is his backpack there? By the door?”

  Ted paused. “Yes.”

  “Have you looked all over the house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Outside?”

  “Yes.”

  Elise thought for half a second. “Did you look on the roof?”

  “Yes.”

  One time, in Georgia, Mark had hidden on the roof. It had taken her ten minutes, the longest ever, to find him. It was after 9/11, and Ted had just arrived in Afghanistan.

  “What’s wrong?” Rebekah mouthed.

  “I’ll be right home,” Elise said to Ted.

  “Everything okay?” Rebekah asked.

  “Everything’s fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” Rebekah put a hand on Elise’s shoulder.

  “Mark is missing. I’m sure he’s just hiding, but Ted can’t find him,” Elise whispered.

  “Mark must be really stressed about Ted being deployed. You all must be stressed.” Rebekah picked up Elise’s box of photos and walked her down the stairs. “Let me know when you find him.”

  Elise nodded. Five minutes later she pulled into the garage. Where would she hide if she were Mark?

  Rebekah sat at her dining room table with a cup of chamomile tea, too wound up to sleep. Midnight Madness had been an unbelievable success. Thirty-two women, six pizzas, three cartwheels, and scads of sold albums, paper, and embellishments. She hadn’t done the paperwork yet, so she didn’t know how much money she had made, but it was by far her best day yet.

  “Mom.” Pepper stood in the archway between the dining room and the living room.

  “Sweetie, why aren’t you asleep?”

  “I had too much fun to sleep.”

  “Dad isn’t going to let you stay out if you don’t get right to bed.” They’d left the shop in shambles to get Pepper home; Rebekah would have to clean it up before opening in the morning.

  Pepper sat beside Rebekah and took a sip of her tea. “What was wrong with Elise?”

  Elise. She hadn’t called, but surely she had found Mark. “She was needed at home.” Rebekah took the mug from Pepper. “You go on to bed. I’ll be up in a flash.”

  Pepper stood. “Mom, what scares you?”

  “What do you mean, sweet pea?”

  “What freaks you out?”

  Rebekah took a sip of tea. “I don’t know.” She ran her finger over the rim of the cup. “I can’t think of anything.”

  “I’m afraid of raccoons.” Pepper yawned.

  “Raccoons? Why, sweetie?”

  “They’re creepy.” She yawned again. “Ainsley and I saw one on the way to the shop tonight. It ran across the street, right in front of us.” Pepper turned and headed to the stairs.

  Rebekah smiled. Pepper needs a kidney transplant, and she’s afraid of raccoons. Rebekah sat at her desk. She had mailed the letter yesterday, so there was no way Pepper’s bio grandma had received it yet. Still, Rebekah checked her e-mails. One from her mother, saying it had been 102 degrees in Phoenix. Three from scrapbook manufacturers. One from Sandi, already thanking her for the Scrap Shack and Midnight Madness: “It’s just what the women of Forest Falls need!”

  Ten minutes later Rebekah crawled into bed. Patrick slung his arm over her, pinning her to the mattress. She pushed him, and he turned to his side, facing her. “The shop is making money. You don’t need to worry,” she whispered.

  “How’s Pepper?” He opened one eye.

  “Fine.”

  “You kept her out too late.”

  “Shh. Go back to sleep.” Rebekah wedged her pillow under her neck. “She’s fine.”

  “Here. You go unlock the door.” Rebekah turned off the motor and tossed the keys to Pepper. “I need to make a quick phone call.” She called information for Elise’s number and then dialed.

  A deep voice answered the phone. Was it Ted? When Elise came to the phone, Rebekah asked how things were going with Mark.

  “Mark?” Elise sounded puzzled.

  Rebekah opened the door of her pickup. “He was missing when you left last night. You said you would let me know when you found him.”

  “Oh, right. He’s fine.”

  “Where was he?” Rebekah slammed the pickup door.

  “I found him right away, in the first place I looked. A cabinet in our garage. He wedged himself into it.”

  “That’s impressive—that you knew where to look.” Rebekah pushed open the shop door. “Why was he hiding?”

  A high-pitched voice came through the phone. “Mom!” Most likely Michael.

  “Just a minute.” Elise’s voice was muffled. “I have to go, Rebekah. Thanks for calling.”

  Rebekah struck her boots across the wood floor. Why had she bothered to call?

  “Mom.” Pepper leaned over the railing. “Bring up more garbage bags; it’s a mess up here.”

  An hour later, as Rebekah flipped the Open sign in the window, Sandi hurried through the door. “What a night.” She gave Rebekah a hug. “I haven’t had that much fun in years.”

  Pepper skipped down the stairs.

  “Those cartwheels you did. What a hoot.” Sandi chuckled.

  “Mom.”

  “Sandi.” Rebekah nodded toward Pepper.

  “What?” Sandi smiled.

  “Mom, you didn’t.” Pepper stood with her hands on her hips.

  “Pepper, you weren’t even her
e. Don’t be embarrassed.”

  “Everyone at school will know. Everyone will talk about it. You promised not to do them anymore.” Pepper stomped back up the stairs.

  “Uh-oh.” Sandi put her hand over her mouth.

  “She made me promise not to ever bungee jump again, either, even though I haven’t done that since a year before Reid was born.”

  “How about skydiving?” Sandi took a newspaper out of her bag.

  “I’ve always wanted to do that, but Patrick would have a cow.”

  “Sounds like Pepper takes after her dad.”

  “Not really. He worries. She just gets embarrassed. I hate that. It’s the hardest thing about having them grow up.”

  “The hardest?” Sandi spread the Forest Falls Post on the counter. “Then thank your lucky stars.”

  “What’s this?” Rebekah turned the paper around. The center page featured a photo of the eighth-grade football team with a closeup of Mark, his arm back, ready to throw the ball. The headline read “New Middle School Quarterback Struts His Stuff.”

  “It’s this morning’s paper,” Sandi said.

  Rebekah read the article. The reporter focused on Mark’s talent and Ted being deployed.

  Sandi crossed her arms. “Ted hadn’t said anything to his dad about a reporter interviewing Mark.”

  Rebekah raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already talked to John about this?”

  Sandi blushed.

  Rebekah shook her head. Elise hadn’t said anything, either. Not that she would.

  “What was with Elise last night?” Sandi folded the paper. “She was acting weird when she left.”

  Rebekah shrugged.

  “Come on, Rebekah, I know you don’t like to gossip, but give me a hint.”

  “Mark was hiding, and Ted couldn’t find him. But Elise found him right away, in the garage.” Rebekah bit her lower lip.

  “That Mark. There’s something wrong with that kid.” Sandi rammed the newspaper into her bag. “John thinks Elise has spoiled him.”

  Rebekah cantered Sky down the dirt road miles from the farm. She wiped her hand across her brow, smearing dust and sweat into a bronze streak across her forehead. Patrick had decided to take a Sunday afternoon nap, and Reid was on the computer. Pepper had stayed in town after church with Ainsley, giving Rebekah the chance to ride long and hard. The road curved, and she dug her heels into the horse, urging him to a gallop. A breeze stirred the willows along the creek. A red-tailed hawk glided toward the forest, and a pair of ducks bobbed in the creek, the male’s emerald head bright against the water.

  The road wound uphill into the forest. Ahead, the service gate blocked the road. “You have to make things happen,” her mother used to say.

  “Come on, boy,” Rebekah urged. She crouched forward on the horse. He lunged and then ascended, leaving the ground far behind, and soared over the gate.

  “Yes!” Rebekah yelled as the gelding landed on his front hoofs and then his back, leaping forward, running faster and faster.

  Rebekah turned around at the trailhead, where the logging road ended, and took a breath. The unrelenting drill of a woodpecker reverberated deep in the forest. This southern route to the falls crossed through an old clear-cut and was not as picturesque as the trail from her pasture, but it was great for hard riding. She snapped Sky’s rump with the end of the reins. They would jump the gate again. This time even faster.

  Jed, the boys are ready to leave for school,” Elise called down the hall.

  Michael and Mark had decided not to ride along to the airport. “We have a game tonight,” Michael had said, as if that explained everything.

  Elise folded the top of Michael’s lunchbag. “Sure you don’t want a sandwich?” she asked Mark.

  “School lunch is fine.”

  Michael held his nose.

  Mark punched his brother’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  “You need to tell Dad good-bye.” A good-bye to last two and a half months. Elise dropped the lunchbag into Michael’s open backpack.

  “He’s not going anywhere fun without us, is he?” Michael asked. “Like Heidelberg or Switzerland?”

  “No, dummy. He’s going to sit on that hill in Landstuhl and not even leave the base.” Mark spun toward the door. “That’s what I would do. I hate Germany.”

  “Hey,” Ted said, catching Mark in midspin.

  “So, we’re going to move to Seattle when you get back from Germany, right?” Mark butted his head against Ted’s chin.

  “No.”

  “I hate this town.”

  “But, Mark,” Michael said in a falsetto, “you’re finally learning to play well with others. You passed the ball a record three times at last week’s game. All incompletes, but at least you passed.”

  Mark lunged at Michael; Ted held him back.

  “And besides, you’re a small-town celebrity, thanks to that article,” Michael taunted.

  Mark lunged again.

  Elise banged the frying pan against the stove. “Come on, Mark, Michael. Tell Dad good-bye. We can talk about the other stuff at Christmas.”

  “Don’t go anywhere until we come over,” Michael said. “No castles. No ruins. No skiing. No driving the autobahn.”

  Ted pulled both boys to him in a big bear hug. He was good at that; affection came more easily to him than it did to her. The bigger the boys grew, the harder it was for her to hug them.

  “You be good. Help your mom.” Ted kissed each of them on the forehead. “Keep up with your studies.”

  “I can’t breathe,” Mark sputtered and then laughed.

  Ted squeezed harder. “Play hard at the football game tonight. I’ll call as soon as I can.” They had splurged and bought Ted a satellite phone, along with a laptop for Elise. Being able to communicate more quickly would be worth it. “I’ll be home for most of basketball season.” Ted let go of the boys. “I love you guys.”

  They fell to the floor laughing, a tumble of legs and arms. Mark’s size overpowered Michael, and Michael’s dark curls contrasted with Mark’s straight blond hair.

  “Bye, Dad.” Michael jumped up and hugged Ted one more time. “I love you.”

  “We’re going to be late,” Mark muttered as he headed toward the door.

  “They’re so different,” remarked Ted. He stood beside Elise at the window as the boys pedaled their bikes down the driveway.

  “Yes. They show things differently.” She hoped it was that. Mark seemed so cold, so heartless at times. The boys turned the corner.

  “I’m going to finish loading the software on your computer, then we need to leave.” Ted reached for her hand as he walked by. “Patrick said to call him if you have any problems with it. Call Dad for everything else.”

  Elise crossed her arms. “Like if some psycho comes around after reading in the paper that you’ve been deployed?”

  “It was harmless, Elise. Really.”

  The active army had reinforced, over and over, to be discreet about deployments: Don’t put yellow ribbons in front of your house; don’t speak with the media; do everything possible to protect your family. Ted had given the reporter permission to interview Mark without asking Elise. He didn’t even think about whether he needed to consult her, he’d said. He thought the article would be a boost to Mark—that was all. She preferred to go out of her way to play it safe, not to take risks. Ted didn’t understand how responsible she felt for the safety of their family when he was gone.

  She sat down at the table and opened the box of photos from Midnight Madness. She was tired, bone weary. The familiar feeling that they had taken a wrong turn, that they had misread the map, was afflicting her again. It was the same feeling she’d had during the first Gulf War and, to a lesser degree, during Kosovo.

  She hadn’t felt that way during Ted’s Afghanistan tour; she’d felt no warning, no buildup, no question that Ted should go and care for the soldiers after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. She had felt God’s hand on her family. She had felt strong. She ha
d slept. Elise had considered it a blessing that her family could make a contribution. So many had suffered, and Ted, who had been at a meeting in the Pentagon just a few weeks before the attacks, had been spared.

  Elise pulled half of the photos from the box. Why did she feel as if they had taken a wrong turn this time? He was only going to Germany. Was it because they were in Forest Falls? Would she be at peace if they were in Seattle?

  She thumbed through the photos. Mark in his bathtub, Mark in his stroller, Mark in his swing—the miracle swing. Other babies had fathers, grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins. Mark had the swing. That was all the help she had.

  She thumbed through the photos, putting them in order. Ted, wearing his uniform, holding Mark on the tarmac at Andrews Air Force Base, the chartered 747 behind him. She hadn’t slept at all the night before and hadn’t taken anything to help her sleep. She hadn’t wanted to be groggy for Ted’s homecoming; instead she was exhausted. She hadn’t truly believed that Ted had come home alive until she felt his hands on her face and his lips on her mouth, until he took his startled-eyed son in his arms. That night Ted got up with Mark. The baby howled, terrified by the stranger who had invaded his world. Maude and John flew out the next Christmas, two weeks before Mark’s first birthday. It was the first time they had seen their grandson. By then Elise was six months pregnant with Michael.

  Elise shuffled through the photos. Ted, his parents, and Mark wore parkas, gloves, and hats in front of the White House; Maude had worried about the cold and had squeezed Mark’s cheeks every few minutes to see if he was warm. Elise posed below the Lincoln Memorial, holding Mark on her hip against her bulging belly.

  “I looked happy,” she said quietly. They had been crazy to have two babies fifteen months apart. It had brought out the worst in Elise. Mark suffered the most.

  Elise stood and poured coffee into her Starbucks travel mug.

  “Are you ready?” Ted wore khakis and a blue polo. Years ago the army had stopped having soldiers travel in their uniforms, stopped sending them off as sitting ducks. Still, she always expected him to wear his uniform when deployed. He carried his laptop case in one hand, a garment bag and a mid-size suitcase in the other.