Paper Castles

by Terri Lee

  It was one thing to have Price taunting her, but to hear Neenie say it—was a cold water splash in the face. She wanted to turn away, hiding the shame dripping down her cheeks. She fumbled for an excuse, but something gave way. She was tired, and the shadows were such a lonely place to live. Some part of the girl she once was reached for the remembered sanctuary of Neenie’s arms. Neenie, who has always known the truth. Step forward, the small voice whispered.

  “I know.” The tiny admission was all she was capable of. But it was enough for Neenie. It was a baby step in the right direction.

  “Child, you’ve been trying to drown your sorrows for some time now. And the problem with that plan is, you can’t drown sorrows. They’re good swimmers. They’re gonna float back up to the top and be bobbing right where you left them last night.”

  “So it seems.” Savannah had to smile at the imagery. “I think you’re the only one who knows me. The only one who knows the truth.” Or all that I can bear to let you know.

  “That’s because you’re my Baby Girl.”

  “Everything’s out of control, Neenie. I don’t know where to start.”

  How had she let it get this far? She looked up at Neenie with a sigh. She seemed to do a lot of sighing lately. As if trying to expel the decay with a deep cleansing breath.

  The older woman reached over and squeezed Savannah’s slender hand.

  “Let’s start with the things you can fix. You may not have any control over Price, but you can find your own way back. And you’re gonna need a clear head to do it.”

  “You’re right.”

  Savannah closed her eyes and let Neenie’s voice wash over her. Rich and mellow, it flowed liked an unhurried river. Savannah longed to fall into its cool depths. Let the words and the current carry her downstream, dropping her at the ocean’s door. From there, the tide would bear her off until she washed ashore in some far-flung place where no one knew her name.

  No matter how many different ways she dreamed of escape, running away wasn’t an option for her. It was the coward’s way out, anyway. She might be a prick-teasing fool, but she wasn’t a coward. She turned away from Adam last night for her children. She behaved badly but she ran for her home before any further damage could be done. Ran before she could change her mind.

  “Have you talked to Kip?”

  “No.” Savannah shook her head, twisting the tie of her robe. “Kip is knee-deep in his campaign. I don’t want to burden him with my nonsense. He doesn’t have the time to run home and save me from myself. Or talk to Price. Again.”

  “You know he’d do it.”

  “I know he would, but I don’t want him to.”

  “Well then, have you thought about talking to your momma?” Neenie asked.

  Savannah blew out her breath. “No. Where in the world would I even start?”

  “Just start talking, the words will come.”

  “You don’t just start a conversation like this after thirty-nine years of cocktail hour chit-chat.”

  “She’s still your momma. Do you think she doesn’t see your unhappiness?”

  “I’m not sure what she sees.”

  “That’s because you’re always pushing her away. When you say everything’s fine—that closes the door. Miss Beverly’s not one to barge in.”

  Neenie was right. Beverly never intruded. Although sometimes Savannah wished she would. Drop the genteel pretense and bash the door down and say, I see what you’re doing. Of course the door could always be opened from Savannah’s side.

  “I don’t know, Neenie.” Regret nudged between the words. Regret for what might have been if she and Beverly had been dealt a different set of cards. She was sure her mother lived with her own remorse, but the two of them played their parts on opposite sides of the stage.

  “Then maybe it’s time to talk to your daddy,” Neenie said, exhausting the list of referees.

  “About a divorce?” Savannah could barely form her lips around the word, its sour taste on the back of her tongue.

  Neenie’s shrug was subtle, but her mouth was set into a fine line.

  “Don’t think I haven’t looked at that from every angle,” Savannah said.

  No one in the Kendall family had ever been divorced. It was unheard of. If there were unhappy marriages, and surely there were, people just bucked up and carried on. Duty to your family was paramount and one didn’t run off searching for happiness when things went south. The same could be said about Price’s family. It simply wasn’t done.

  Savannah got up to pour another cup of coffee. “If you think things are ugly now, you have no idea how bad divorce would make them. I can only imagine what hell would be unleashed if I actually took that first step.”

  “I think I have a pretty good idea,” Neenie said. “That’s why I’m saying you should talk to your daddy first. Be prepared. Besides, maybe the threat would be enough to snap Price outta this craziness and back into being a real husband.” Neenie folded her big arms across her chest. “What he needs is someone to take him out behind the woodshed. Seeing how you can’t do that to a grown man, I’m guessing a good talk from your daddy is your best bet.”

  The two women shared a laugh over the image of Price getting his ass whupped. If only things were that simple.

  “I don’t even think I love him anymore.” The words snuck out before she could think twice. Today seemed to be a day to pull everything out of the shadows. Savannah looked at the words lying on the kitchen counter, not knowing what to do with them. Could she shuffle them like playing cards and deal a new hand?

  “Marriage is a difficult road under the best of circumstances. Without love—”

  “Why bother,” Savannah finished the sentence for her.

  “That’s not what I was gonna say.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s how I feel.”

  Dear God, how did I get here?

  It had been a gradual slide. With Price’s first affair, the perfect snow globe of her life had been shattered. Sparkles and idyllic little people tumbled out. Somehow she found the forgiveness to take her unfaithful husband back into her heart and the will to try again.

  Her love hadn’t died with the first affair. Maybe not even the second. It was a long, slow death. Lie by lie. But Price killed it, just as surely as if he’d taken a gun and put a bullet through the heart of the marriage. Only he kept pulling the trigger over and over again, until one day, Savannah stopped counting or caring.

  “What are you so afraid of?” Neenie said. “Your parents are gonna be on your side no matter what.”

  “I’m afraid of sides. A war that will spill over and drag in all the innocent bystanders. Especially my babies.”

  “Open the door, Baby Girl,” Neenie said. “Open it and let help in. ‘Ask and ye shall receive,’ the good Lord says.”

  “Maybe I will,” Savannah said, unsure if the good Lord was interested in speaking to her. “After the holidays.”

  Neenie placed her hand on Savannah’s wrist, pulling back on the reins as Savannah started to bolt.

  “It don’t have to be divorce,” Neenie said. “But something has to be done. This life is eating you up and spitting you out. And it kills me to watch you disappearing.”

  The word slid into Savannah’s heart like a sliver and lodged there. “That’s exactly how I feel. As if I’m disappearing.”

  “We’re not gonna let that happen.”

  Savannah snatched at we. Grabbed on and pulled herself to safety. Her heart swelled in her chest as she looked at her closet ally.

  “Neenie, I don’t deserve you.”

  “Nonsense.” Neenie swatted the compliment away. “We’re gonna find a way outta this mess.”

  The cloud of despair frowned at this display of optimism and wrapped its prickly arms tighter around Savannah’s shoulders. Determined to swallow up any small amount of hope.

  “A divorce would be such a scandal. It would be the talk of the town.” Her thoughts were like fingers that only knew how to pla
y the dark notes on a piano.

  “A time comes when you have to stop worrying about what other folks say.” Neenie’s eyes took on a far-away look. “You know, when you was a little girl you used to march down the street, head held high. Yellow hair shining in the sun, never looking left or right. People would say ‘There goes that Savannah Kendall. Ain’t she something?’”

  If only Savannah could find the moment when the little yellow-haired girl bought into the notion that everything in her world had to be perfect. She’d undo it in an instant. She’d tell that little girl, not to believe it. It would’ve surely changed her life.

  “Well maybe I should’ve been looking left and right,” Savannah said. “Anyway, it was a long time ago.”

  “I don’t care how long ago it was,” Neenie said. “Down inside, you’re still that little sassy pants.”

  A slow grin spread across Savannah’s taut face. “Sassy pants. I haven’t heard that in a while.” She searched Neenie’s face, looking for the high-headed girl living behind her wise friend’s eyes.

  “I wonder what happened to me?”

  “Sometimes life has a way of just slapping the sass right out of a person,” Neenie said flatly. “Don’t you worry, though. Yours may be lying low right now, but it’s still in there. ”

  “I hope you’re right.” Savannah took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Because if I’m going to follow through with this, I’m going to need all the sass I can find.”

  “Daddy promised he’d be here.” Peeking through the backstage curtains, Angela kept one eye on the back door of the auditorium.

  “Then I’m sure he will be,” Savannah said. Dammit, Price.

  Angela got caught on the edge in Savannah’s voice and said, “Momma, please don’t fight with Daddy tonight.”

  Savannah stepped back, smiling brightly. “Of course not, honey. This is your big night.”

  She pulled back the heavy theater curtains and searched the crowd for her missing husband. Families were streaming in, jockeying for the best seats. Anticipation hung in the air along with the cheap Christmas decorations hanging from the rafters.

  Mrs. Tooley, clipboard in hand and pencil hanging precariously from behind one ear, arrived backstage to shoo all parents and bystanders from the wings.

  Savannah hugged her daughter tight. “You don’t need it, but good luck.” She ran her hand over the top of Angela’s head. The eyes Angela lifted to her mother were a little wild, glazed with stage fright’s last-minute panic.

  “Once the lights go up, you’ll be fine,” Savannah said. “Now, break a leg, Baby Girl.”

  Savannah slipped through the theater’s side door and made her way to seats that PJ had been holding. She moved her coat to the side and sat down with an exasperated huff.

  “Any sign of your father?” she asked, rummaging in her purse for her lipstick.

  “Not yet,” PJ said. “He’ll be here. He knows how important this is to Ange.”

  “Of course.”

  Her hand trembled as she did her lips. She was still rattled from her morning. Unable to sleep, she’d been up with the first light. Stepping out the back door to retrieve the morning paper, she found her art class painting leaning against the brick steps. She picked it up with both hands and peered down the driveway, her heart flipping over in her chest. No sign of anything or anyone. No car driving away from the curb. Clutching her artwork in her arms, she stood and stared down the long drive, imagining she could feel the heat of his hands on the canvas. Adam had been here. She’d just missed him.

  As the lights in the auditorium dimmed, signaling the start of the show, Price slid in beside her.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  She nodded, applauding cheerfully.

  Price leaned across her and tapped PJ on the arm. “Hey, Buddy.”

  PJ lit up.

  Then again, everybody lit up around Price.

  “How’s Ange doing?” Price whispered to Savannah. His breath on her ear felt invasive, as if a stranger had breathed on her.

  “Nervous. And she was worried you wouldn’t make it.”

  “No worries, I told her I’d be here. And here I am.”

  “So you are.” Savannah could feel his shoulder pressing against her own, their elbows touching on the shared armrest. She hadn’t touched him casually in ages, shared space so intimately she could smell him. The scent of his cologne stirred something in her, both strange and familiar at the same time.

  They sat through and applauded an hour of Christmas carols and skits. Finally, Angela came onstage for her solo. Both Price and Savannah sat up straight in their seats. Savannah heard Price take in a deep, steadying, breath. A big inhale, but no exhale.

  The carol began with eight agonizing arpeggios, through which Angela had to stand with no distraction. All eyes on her. Savannah’s heart pounded. Angela lifted her eyes first, then her chin.

  Oh God, Baby Girl. You look so small…

  When Angela sang the first line of, O Holy Night, the entire auditorium exhaled in wonder.

  “Wow,” PJ whispered.

  Tears filled Savannah’s eyes as the pure and true voice filled the theater. When Angela finished the last clear note, the auditorium erupted in genuine, enthusiastic applause. Angela’s shoulders dropped and her face unfolded in a smile as she saw her father giving her a standing ovation from the seventh row.

  Price fell back in his seat and reached for Savannah’s hand, squeezing hard. Limp with relief, she squeezed back.

  “That’s our girl,” Price said. “We made that.”

  “Yes,” Savannah said, overcome with pride for her daughter and surprise from Price’s spontaneous touch. The house lights had come up and they looked from one another to the clenched tangle of their fingers and back again. For a brief moment Savannah remembered what it felt like to have a partner on this journey. To be united. Moments like these were bigger than the two of them. No matter what may come, they would always be connected through the two children that were born because she and Price had once loved one another.

  People were standing up and moving toward the exit now, eager to claim their offspring and head out into the night. As the slow-moving river of people inched up the narrow aisle, hellos were exchanged. Shouts of “Merry Christmas” and “See you next year” rang out during the exodus. Several familiar faces stopped to congratulate the Palmertons on Angela’s performance. One father slapped Price on the back as if Price had sung the song himself.

  It was several minutes before Angela came running down the aisle and threw herself into her father’s arms. Looking up at him with all adoration and waiting for her accolades.

  Savannah’s heart hurt at the sight of them. The divorce she was contemplating would destroy her children’s lives and leave her with the blame. She would be the enemy.

  Christmas morning arrived without fanfare. Although the kids were no longer babies, and Santa no longer made an appearance, presents were still presents.

  Wrapping paper and bows were strewn in happy abandon and Daisy wriggled her way into the party on the living room floor. It was Savannah’s favorite kind of commotion.

  Price strode back into the room carrying two cups of coffee and handed one to Savannah.

  “Thank you.” She took the cup from his hand, trying to remember the last time he offered her a kind gesture.

  “Merry Christmas.” Price looked down at her as if he had something else to say, but nothing was forthcoming.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said.

  She sipped her coffee while eyeing him over the rim of her cup. On the floor, at the center of the chaos, Price looked like a big kid. Grinning as he watched the kids open their presents with shouts of excitement. Every once in a while he’d look back over his shoulder at Savannah, his expression unguarded, without artifice. She could almost hear him saying, “Are you watching, Mommy? Do you see this?”

  She saw it. She was fully present, yet overcome with nostalgia. The past blurred
as if all the dates on the backs of pictures in a mental photo album had been erased. It was just one big faded Christmas picture.

  She saw toddlers in footed pajamas crawling over her and Price as chubby hands reached for the colorful packages that beckoned from under the tree. But there were many other Christmases like this one, where she didn’t know her lines because the two of them hadn’t been speaking for weeks.

  Savannah curled up in her armchair and tucked her robe around her knees as if trying to ward off a chill. She watched her husband on the floor in the midst of her kids and a crazy golden retriever and ached for the life that they could have had.

  Where did this happy, attentive, enthusiastic, sit-on-the-floor part of you go? What made it worth letting go?

  “Wow, a telescope? That’s just the one I wanted.” PJ’s exclamation brought her back to the scene at hand. “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.”

  Savannah lifted her face and accepted PJ’s warm kiss on her cheek. She managed to ruffle his tousled hair before he slipped through her fingers and was down on the floor again. As he and Price studied the instructions for setting up the contraption, Angela was busy tuning in her new transistor radio. The happy confusion was all Savannah wanted on this morning.

  Price extricated himself from the revelers and came to sit on the arm of her chair. She looked up at him, eyebrows at attention. He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a little red velvet case.

  “Merry Christmas, Savannah.”

  Savannah set her cup down and took the case from Price, resting it on her open palm as if it were a trick.

  “Open it.” Price nodded his chin at the box and his smile was the easy, ardent smile that used to warm her. As she lifted the lid, she felt the iceberg between them thaw ever so slightly.

  Then, a sparkle of diamonds did what they always do to a woman. They took her breath away. Her hand flew to her mouth to contain the small gasp of pleasure. She flicked her eyes up at Price, then back down to the earrings in her palm. A single large pink pearl hung from a bow made entirely of tiny, perfect diamonds.

  Her eyes returned to her husband, searching his face for a clue.