Scrap Everything

by Leslie Gould

  “That’s great! What did she do?”

  “I don’t know. She left a message yesterday afternoon, but we missed it.” Rebekah massaged Patrick’s shoulders.

  Reid shook his head.

  “Hey.” Rebekah flapped her apron string at Reid. “This is a big deal. We have a lot to be thankful for.”

  “All you think or talk about is Pepper and her kidney. I’m sick of it.”

  “Reid.” Patrick put his arm around his son. “We’re concerned about Pepper, but that doesn’t mean we’re any less concerned about you.”

  Reid shrugged Patrick’s arm away. “No, Dad, that’s not true. Well, maybe it is for you, but not for Mom. She’s totally obsessed with Pepper.”

  “No, I’m not.” Rebekah untied her apron.

  Reid nodded, his head bobbing up and down. “When was the last time you did anything for me? Bought anything for me? Made anything for me?”

  “I do things for you all the time.” Rebekah crossed her arms.

  “Like what?”

  “I grocery shop, cook, do laundry. Wait, you’re almost fourteen. You should be doing your own laundry.”

  Reid turned back toward his computer.

  Patrick squinted his eyes and barely shook his head at Rebekah as he mouthed, Let it go.

  Rebekah turned and headed down the stairs. She was ready for Reid to grow up. To think that she used to work with troubled teens, that she actually had the audacity to believe she knew what she was doing.

  It was too late in the evening for caffeine, but Elise poured herself a cup of Rebekah’s free coffee anyway, hoping to wash away her day-after-Thanksgiving lethargy. Only a handful of women had shown up for Midnight Madness. Pepper was having an overnighter at Ainsley’s house, and many of the women were out of town for the holiday or had guests. She picked up a copy of the Memory Makers magazine that Rebekah had dropped on the table.

  “I’m thinking about buying Adobe Photoshop.” Sandi punched a hole in a tag and ran a piece of yellow yarn through it.

  “Why?” Rebekah asked.

  “No mess. You download everything and print the page. Voilà. You’re done.” Sandi pulled more yarn from her new tote.

  “But there’s no texture.” Rebekah started for the stairs.

  “And no mess, no storing all this stuff.” Sandi pulled a letter S from a page of stickers and rubbed it onto the tag.

  “Where are those photos from?” Elise put down the magazine and nodded at Sandi’s page.

  “My farm.” Sandi rubbed a U on the tag.

  “Your farm?”

  “I sold it five years ago.”

  “Why?” Elise leaned against the table.

  “I couldn’t keep it after my husband died.” Sandi positioned an N.

  Elise put her hand on her chin. “I’m so sorry. How did he die?” She had known Sandi for almost three months. How had she missed that she was a widow? She had assumed Sandi had been single all her life.

  “He had a massive stroke; he was only sixty-seven.” Sandi rubbed an F on the tag. “I switched to hospice nursing after that.”

  “Do you have any kids?” Maybe there were other things about Sandi’s life that Elise had missed.

  Sandi shook her head. “We were older when we married. I was in my midforties, and he was in his late fifties. He’d been married before but didn’t have any kids.”

  “Sandi.” Rebekah hurried up the stairs with a box. “Just keep your stuff here if you don’t want it cluttering up your house. That goes for all of you. I should get lockers installed.”

  “No.” Sandi rubbed another letter on the tag. “You should just carry Photoshop.”

  Rebekah pulled up a chair next to Sandi and slid the box of animal cutouts onto the table. “Oh, your sunflowers. I remember you talking about them. You miss those, don’t you?”

  Sandi nodded and placed an L on her tag. “Rebekah, you should plant sunflowers at your place, along the fence line.”

  Rebekah turned the album around for a closer look at the layout of sunflower photos. “Would the horses eat them?’

  Sandi smiled. “I have no idea. You could always find out.” She repositioned the album in front of her and affixed the tag with the word Sunflowers.

  Elise scanned the room. Maybe there were things about the other women that she had missed too.

  “Are you getting ideas for Mark’s book?” Rebekah asked, nodding toward the magazine.

  “Not really. I like to read the stories on the layouts, but sometimes the words are too small to read.” She turned the magazine around. “Like this layout. Here’s a preemie baby with a whole bunch of tubes and a story with lots of tiny, tiny words.”

  “It’s called journaling.” Rebekah opened the box. “Pepper is going to love these cutouts.”

  “I have a magnifying glass.” Sandi dug in her bag.

  “Oh, good.” Elise pulled the magazine closer.

  “What do you hear from Ted?” Rebekah asked

  “Don’t ask.” Elise held the magnifying glass over the layout.

  “Why?”

  “He spent last weekend touring castles on the Rhine.”

  Rebekah laughed.

  “Must be tough, huh?” Elise put down the magnifying glass.

  “Come on, Elise. It is tough.” Sandi took out the next page of her album. “I hear about the emergency surgeries, burn victims, amputees. All sorts of hard stuff.”

  Elise bristled.

  “I wonder if they still do scrapbooking in Germany,” Rebekah mused. Was she changing the subject on purpose? “After all, that’s where it started.”

  “They didn’t nine years ago. That’s one of the things I liked about it.” Elise cringed at the sarcasm in her voice. “Sorry.” Elise looked through the magnifying glass again. “I still can’t see the words; they’re just too tiny.”

  Sandi took the glass.

  Elise flipped to the next page in the magazine. “Look, a layout of a little boy throwing a tantrum. I love it. Reality scrapbooking.”

  “Let me see.” Rebekah leaned over.

  Elise read the headline. “You’re cute even when you’re angry. Forget what I said. There’s nothing real about this.” She spread out the magazine so everyone could see.

  Sandi leaned over the table. “Love the metal frames around the photos. Is that a Photoshop layout?”

  Rebekah shook her head.

  “It has to be. That mom couldn’t have time for all of this.” Sandi spread her arms wide. “Not with all those tantrums.”

  “But, Sandi, you can’t even figure out how to download your photos.” Rebekah went back to sorting the cutouts. “How are you going to run Photoshop?”

  Sandi blew Rebekah a kiss.

  “It’s that whole revisionist scrapbooking mentality.” Elise flipped the page.

  “Speaking of …” Sandi stood. “You should see the photos that Ainsley had at the retreat.”

  Rebekah held up a raccoon cutout. “I can’t wait until Pepper sees these. She hates raccoons.”

  “What are the pictures of?” Elise closed the magazine.

  “Sandi.” Rebekah warned, scooping the cutouts into her hand.

  But Sandi looked directly at Elise and said, “Mark hitting Michael.” She poured herself a Dr Pepper.

  “I’ve already seen them.” Elise stood. “In fact, I have the doubles.” Elise glanced at her watch but couldn’t focus. Why had Sandi brought up those photos? “I told the boys I would be home at a reasonable time.” She grabbed the magazine and her coat, headed for the stairs, and then stopped. “Rebekah, I need to buy the magazine. I almost stole it.”

  “I’m coming.” Rebekah dumped the animal cutouts into a box and followed her downstairs.

  Rebekah scanned the bar code. “I don’t know what’s with Sandi,” she whispered.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Elise pulled out a ten-dollar bill.

  “I have a favor to ask.” Rebekah gave Elise her change.

  Elise nodded. />
  “Patrick’s going out of town on business tomorrow morning. He has meetings in Chicago on Sunday and Monday.” Rebekah slipped the magazine into a bag. “Would you want to go with me and take the kids to Portland on Sunday after church? They could ice-skate while we shop.”

  Elise wanted to laugh. Some favor. “Sounds like fun. I’ll talk to the boys.”

  “I haven’t started my Christmas shopping this year.” Rebekah handed Elise her change. “Yours is all done, right?”

  “Mostly. But I’m not doing much for the boys since we’ll be in Germany.”

  Rebekah started to say something and then stopped.

  Elise waited.

  “I’ll see you Sunday then, if not before.” Rebekah walked Elise to the door and then hurried toward the stairs, back to the other women.

  “Come on, Mark. Get up. We’re going to be late for church.” Elise stood in the doorway of Mark’s room. Icy rain pelted his window.

  Michael thundered up the stairs. “Mom, the phone is for you.”

  “Mark, get up.”

  “I don’t feel well.” He sounded pathetic.

  “Get up.”

  “Mom, the phone.” Michael waved it in front of her face.

  Elise jerked Mark’s pillow from under his head, took it with her, and then grabbed the phone, expecting Ted. It was Rebekah.

  “Hey, I have a favor to ask. Can you drop me off at the airport after we go ice-skating?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I have a ticket to Reno, to see Pepper’s birth grandma. Don’t tell my kids. They think I’m flying to Phoenix to see my parents.”

  Elise ducked into the bathroom. “What time does your flight leave?”

  “Six.”

  “I guess we can all go in my Volvo.” Michael and Reid could fit in the jump seat—barely. “When do you come back?”

  “Tomorrow evening. Sandi said she would pick me up—and watch the shop during the day. But do you think you could spend tonight out at my place? That way you guys could feed the horses when you get back. And you could get all the kids off to school.”

  “Sure.” Elise opened the shades in Mark’s room.

  “Thanks. See you in a few minutes at church.”

  Elise started down the stairs. “We’re running late. If we’re not there, I’ll swing by your place to pick you up.”

  “Mom, I want to go to church.” Michael was dressed and ready to go.

  “Rebekah, if Michael’s there, give him a ride to your house, okay?”

  Mark sped around the rink, his arms flying back and forth.

  “He’s good.” Rebekah snapped her digital camera.

  Elise nodded. “He skated in Colorado, played hockey some.”

  “I bet he loved it.”

  “No, he wasn’t crazy about it.” That’s the way Mark was with sports—good without trying, but not passionate.

  Reid skated by and made a face at Rebekah. She laughed. “We used to skate when we lived here. Reid didn’t really like it then, either.”

  Michael zipped by, chasing Mark, and Pepper followed.

  Elise held a pretzel in both hands, waiting for it to cool. “When did you decide to go to Nevada?”

  “I got the ticket on Wednesday.”

  “Before Thanksgiving?”

  Rebekah nodded.

  Elise shook her head. “Why did you wait until today to tell me you were going?”

  Rebekah shrugged. “I wasn’t sure until today that I was actually going through with it.”

  “Have you been there before?”

  “I went for Mandy’s funeral—Pepper’s birth mom.” Rebekah held her digital camera away from her body, tracking the kids in the screen. “She overdosed when she was eighteen. Pepper was nine months. I didn’t take her with me.” Rebekah zoomed in on the kids. “I was afraid that Polly, Mandy’s mother, might change her mind, that she might want to adopt Pepper.”

  “Did Mandy’s mom know who you were then?”

  “Yep.” Rebekah snapped a picture of Pepper waving her arms from side to side, speeding after the boys.

  “So you talked with her? All of that?”

  Rebekah nodded.

  “What is she like?”

  “She was overwhelmed back then. They’d had Mandy in treatment. Then she ran away and ended up in Portland. Polly came to Portland once and took Mandy home. She ran away again and got pregnant with Pepper. Polly and her husband separated, and finally Polly felt like she needed to put her energy into her youngest daughter.”

  Rebekah waved as Reid came around again. “Are we about ready to leave?” he asked.

  “Five more minutes.” Rebekah took another picture. “I’m taking Pepper’s scrapbook. I think when Polly sees what a great kid Pepper is, she’ll help me. How could she not?”

  “I hope she will.” Elise took a deep breath. “What does Patrick say?”

  “He doesn’t know. Don’t say anything, okay? If he calls.”

  “What am I supposed to say?” Elise took a bite of the pretzel.

  “That I’m out. He’ll probably call my cell anyway.” Rebekah dropped her camera into her purse. “Time to go.” The kids zipped by again, Michael on Mark’s heels, Pepper close behind.

  Mark laughed as he spun in a circle toward the middle. “Catch me,” he taunted and sped off to the bench.

  Rain hammered the roof of the Volvo and fell in sheets over the windshield. “We’re spending the night at Reid and Pepper’s.” Elise’s muscles tightened all the way down her back. “I told you that this morning.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I did. That’s why I told you to throw pajamas, clothes for tomorrow, and your toothbrush into your backpack.” A semi sped by.

  “No, you told me to bring my backpack.”

  Elise arched her back, trying to ease her anxiety.

  Mark crossed his arms. “I don’t want to stay out there.”

  “Hush.”

  Michael, Pepper, and Reid slept in the backseat.

  Elise’s cell rang. She scooted her purse toward Mark. “Answer it. I can’t talk right now. It’s raining too hard.”

  It was Ted. Mark gave him one- or two-word answers. “Fine. I-5. Portland. Mom’s driving.” Mark turned toward her. “Dad wants to know if Michael got the e-mail he sent, the one on blood types. No one ever e-mailed him back.”

  Elise glanced in the rearview mirror. It was too dark to see Michael. Was he really asleep? “I don’t know,” she lied.

  Mark kept talking to Ted. “Dad says he’ll send it again, so Michael can read it.”

  Mark talked to Ted a little longer and then hung up. “He said he’ll call you back.” Mark paused. “Maybe you should get tested to see if you could donate a kidney to Pepper, since Rebekah can’t.”

  “Is that what Dad said?”

  Mark shook his head.

  The rain slowed, and Elise turned the windshield wipers down. “Did you finish your homework?” She pulled into the middle lane to pass a truck.

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Mark.” She sat up straight and caught Pepper’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Your father’s gone. I can’t donate a kidney.” She had thought it through, even more today after being around Rebekah and Pepper. She was sympathetic, very sympathetic, but Ted was in Germany. She couldn’t risk herself for someone else’s child; she needed to take care of her own two kids.

  “I was right.” Mark drilled her with his eyes. “You do think only about yourself.”

  Rebekah stood at the window of her room in the Fairfield Inn. Ten rings. Maybe seven thirty was too early to call. She had awakened at five and gone swimming at six. The sooner she could speak with Polly the better.

  “Hello.”

  “Polly, it’s Rebekah. Pepper’s mom—adoptive mom. Please don’t hang up.” Silence. But no dial tone. That was good. “I’m in town. In Sparks. I’d like to see you, just to chat. Just to get some information.”

&nbs
p; More silence.

  “I can come out to your house or meet you at a coffee shop, wherever you like, whatever time you like. I just have to make my five o’clock flight.” Was she there? “Polly?”

  “If I meet with you, will you leave me alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can come here. Make it nine thirty. I have to be at work by eleven.”

  Rebekah collapsed onto the bed. “Thank you, God,” she whispered.

  Her cell began to ring. Patrick. She slid the phone under the pillow. She would call him after she talked with Polly.

  Rebekah sidestepped a pink and purple bike with training wheels sprawled across the sidewalk as she hurried to Polly’s front door. It was the same split-level that Rebekah had visited over a decade ago. She knocked firmly. No answer. She knocked again.

  “Coming.”

  A gray and tired Polly opened the door. Her hair was cut short, and wrinkles lined her eyes and mouth. She wore a blue tunic and pants, and she was smaller than Rebekah remembered, not much bigger than Pepper.

  “Hello, Rebekah.”

  “Polly.” Rebekah hugged her. Polly stiffened and patted Rebekah’s shoulder.

  “Mom, can you pick up Cadee after school?” A woman stood in the hall. She had blond hair, but much darker than Pepper’s fairylike hair. She wore a short skirt and combat boots.

  “Adrianna, this is Rebekah. Mandy’s little girl’s mom. Do you remember her from the funeral?”

  Adrianna shook her head.

  “Hi.” Rebekah smiled. Adrianna was twelve or thirteen at the funeral, Pepper’s age.

  “Nice to see you.” Adrianna crossed her arms. “What’s this about?”

  “Rebekah just wanted to stop by.”

  “Do you want me to stay, Mom?”

  “No, Adrianna. Get ready for work.”

  “So can you pick up Cadee?”

  “Sure.”

  Adrianna waved her hand and headed back down the hall.

  “She works in a restaurant—sometimes during the day, sometimes at night.” Polly fussed with a faded pink doily hanging on the back of a torn recliner.

  “May I sit?” Rebekah waited until Polly sat on the couch and then planted herself a half foot away and opened the scrapbook.

  “Mandy had a fish named Pepper—a bug-eyed, black goldfish.”