Echoes of Family

by Barbara Claypole White

  Len turned from the metal slicer. “They fire you, I’ll lead the revolt. Haven’t been in a riot since Thatcher’s day. I was in Brixton in the early eighties.”

  “Were you indeed?” Every day he learned something new about his parishioners. Gabriel would have told anyone who asked that he knew Len reasonably well—worked for his father, officiated at his daughter’s wedding, buried both his parents—but if he’d missed this rather large detail about one parishioner’s life, what else had he missed? He had grown far too complacent about his ability to judge and understand others. And there was one person who still deserved a full apology.

  While Len wrapped up the meat packages in white paper, Gabriel pulled out his phone and started typing.

  Am I forgiven for being a small-minded pillock? Please say yes because I miss our chats.

  Jade texted back instantly. Miss you too, pillock. (Is that English for jackass?)

  He smiled. Close enough.

  Errands completed, Gabriel ambled back up the High Street with a heavy canvas bag and lighter thoughts. But as he turned into Nell’s Lane, the good mood evaporated. Bill Collins was hobbling past the rectory with Queenie and his stick. Instead of ignoring Gabriel, as usual, Bill slowed to toss out a sneer. It seemed the phone call to the archdeacon had already been placed. And since the archdeacon had the bishop’s ear, the wheels must be in motion.

  THIRTY-SIX

  MARIANNE

  Marianne had never been a conspiracy theorist—too hard to keep her own truths straight let alone worry about everyone else’s—but a teenage plot was definitely afoot in Newton Rushford. The moment she’d pulled out of Nell’s Lane and hesitated about turning right or left, she realized EmJ couldn’t have bolted for some remote corner of England, Scotland, or Wales. Teen bands frequently formed intense bonds during their weeklong summer camp at Girls In Motion, and EmJ’s band, newly named Shadowbox, was no exception. The big question was how far three of the members had gone to protect their greatest asset.

  After grilling Charlotte and the boys—except for Matt, who was having his wisdom teeth pulled, or so Tom said—Marianne became convinced the kids were up to something. What else could have explained Tom’s uncharacteristically twitchy behavior with his keys? And if EmJ was still in the village, someone had helped her hide Newton Rushford’s most recognizable vehicle. In a barn on one of the outlying farms, no doubt.

  She was close to finding EmJ, and Marianne Stokes stopped being a quitter the day she understood her life was about providing a stable home for a young runaway. But her rumbling stomach reminded her that she had a dinner date with Darius, and he’d suffered enough in the last twenty-four hours. All summer she’d been bouncing up and down saying, Me, me, me. Now it was time to start acting like a wife.

  Besides, she’d searched as many outbuildings as she could without reinforcements, and if the kids had gathered around, EmJ was safe, although probably living on iced buns—the band’s snack of choice. It was time to update Jade, too. That was going to be a toughie. Jade would not appreciate being left out of the loop.

  Marianne retrieved Hugh’s car—tucked away in a secluded dead-end lane on the other side of the Abbey—and drove back to Nell’s Lane. Slowly enough to be honked at. Her brain, running on empty from lack of food, repeated over and over, You’re on the wrong side of the road.

  She parked in front of the rectory and pulled out her phone. Sorry for the radio silence. Lot going on here. She hit “Send.”

  Ditto. Been swamped at the studio. How’s the next Madonna?

  Marianne took a deep breath and typed quickly. About that . . . Darius turned up yesterday, EmJ freaked out, cut his arm with a cake knife, ran away. He has a few stitches, but I’m taking good care of him. Promise. At least she had been last night. Did that count?

  Her phone rang.

  “What the fuck?” Jade yelled. “Darius is with you and EmJ stabbed him?”

  “It was more of a slash. But yeah, that’s the gist.”

  “Holy shit. Does he have enough Xanax with him? He’s such a wuss about anything medical.”

  “Fortunately yes, and they gave him killer pain meds. He puked a lot in the hospital, but he was lucky. The knife didn’t sever anything important like a tendon, so he didn’t need surgery or general anesthesia. He’ll probably tell the world he was attacked saving me from a marauding gang of English muggers. I have a feeling the story will grow.”

  “Another Darius legend for the books. It’s quite the summer you guys are having. Can’t wait to see what you do for your tenth wedding anniversary. But he is okay, right?”

  “Yeah, he was pretty cute and loopy on the meds last night. It melted my heart.” Marianne pulled out the car keys and for good measure put the parking brake on, which she never did in her own car. “But I have no illusions. I’m responsible for one impressive scar on my beloved’s arm.”

  “We scar people we love all the time,” Jade said quietly. “Mostly it doesn’t show.”

  “It’s on his left arm.”

  “On his full-sleeve Lovecraft tat? His favorite thing in the world after you and Absalom?”

  “Uh-huh. Slashed Cthulhu’s face.”

  Jade made a strangled noise. “Glad I wasn’t around when he figured that one out. What about EmJ?”

  “Still missing, but I think the band members are hiding her. Now I just have to figure out where.”

  “Oh, that’s totally the scenario I would go with.” Jade hesitated. “How’s Gabriel doing with all this?” she asked casually, too casually. A thought to be continued.

  “You know our friendly neighborhood vicar, very little disturbs his om. However, I’m intrigued to see whether he and Darius slaughtered each other today. I left them alone while I went out to search for EmJ.”

  “Does she still have the knife?”

  “No. Gabriel disposed of it.”

  “As in tampered with evidence? Wow. Mega”—Jade yawned—“shocker.”

  “You getting enough sleep?”

  “Not really.”

  Marianne stared through the windshield to the sparrows cozied up for the approaching night on the telephone wires. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Na-ah, stop right there. I know you’re feeling shitty about yourself right now, and I’m going to tell you—”

  “Am not.”

  “Are so. You do everything magnified, including guilt. Two facts to digest: I am perfectly happy running your studio. So happy I might never hand it back. And without you, EmJ would probably have returned to her druggie boyfriend and opened a his-’n’-hers meth lab. You showed her another way. It’s not your fault if she chose not to take it.”

  “You’re too wise for a not-quite-thirty-year-old. Sometimes I feel as if you’re the parental figure and I’m the teenager.”

  “I was never a teenager.”

  “I know, sweetheart. You grew up way too soon.”

  “Whereas you never grew up at all. Jump off the ride, Mama Bird. You saw someone who was more broken than you, and you tried to help. That was a good impulse. The right one, and I’m proud of you.”

  Gabriel tapped on the car window.

  “Oops. The day of reckoning has arrived. I have to go and make amends to Gabriel for stealing Hugh’s car.”

  Jade snorted out laughter. “Are you fucking kidding me? On top of running a soap opera you stole a car? Forget about music—you should write a memoir.”

  “Like anyone would believe it.” Marianne got out of the car. “Can we talk later, baby girl?”

  “Go. Deal with Gabriel. Love you lots, you loon.”

  “Love you too.” She looked up at Gabriel. “I was updating Jade on the cake-knife incident.”

  “I gathered. How did she take the news?”

  “Fine. Like you, she’s one of life’s fine people. Mainly she was worried about Darius. Have we reached the part in the story where you lecture me on being irresponsible?”

  A fighter jet roared low over their heads, and Mar
ianne covered her ears. Gabriel, waiting for it to pass, didn’t flinch.

  “No. This is where I tell you supper’s ready. And ask for Hugh’s car keys back.” He held out his hand, and she dropped the keys onto his palm.

  “You would have made someone an amazing wife. How’s Darius?”

  “Quite perky. He’s discovered my chocolate supply and no longer wants to do unspeakable things to my manhood.”

  “Any news from the police?”

  Gabriel shook his head and turned away.

  Marianne followed. “Doesn’t matter, I’ve figured out something huge.”

  As they entered the house, the hall phone began to ring, and the deafening boom of a barrage of military planes filled the sky and quickly disappeared. With a deep sigh, Gabriel picked up the phone.

  “Good evening, Bishop,” he said. “Yes, I’ve been expecting your call.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  JADE

  Sitting in the control room, Jade stared at the black console with the little knobs that could tweak any sound into a polished version of the truth. But what if you couldn’t add or subtract? What if truth held you, suspended in time, and said, This is it. No easy fixes. Learn how to deal? She could no longer avoid talking with Gabriel. Not now that they’d kissed and made up—without the kissing part. Her phone connected to his, and he answered immediately, his hello more of a declaration of war than a greeting. Time to slip into the overdubbed role of Jade Jones.

  “Whoa there. Don’t shoot the caller.”

  “Jade.” He blew out her name.

  “Yup, me. I called to see how Darius is doing. He’s a big baby about all things medical, but what’s up with you? You picked up that phone sounding pissed as fu—very angry.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Time is money. Spill.”

  His breathing changed, as if he was walking. Or retreating into his study. “Someone called the archdeacon, who called the bishop, who wants to know if, in fact, I have been living in sin with a married woman and have a psychopathic love child who attempted to commit murder in full view of the village. I think that’s the gist.”

  “Let me guess, Bill Collins?”

  “Jade”—she heard his smile in his voice—“I’ve missed you.”

  She nearly said, I’ve missed you more. “I could arrange for someone to kidnap his dog. I know plenty of scuzzballs.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” Gabriel laughed. A few weeks earlier she’d imagined taping and enhancing that sound. But that was before he’d withheld it from her. No, she wouldn’t change a thing. His laughter was perfection.

  “Tempting as your offer is,” Gabriel said, “I’m turning the other cheek.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind. I’m always game for a little covert revenge ops. What’s the bishop’s take on our family drama, then?”

  “He’s clearing his calendar so we can meet later in the week. I anticipate a private slap on the wrist followed by a clandestine period of parole. The bishop protects his own and strongly dislikes scandal, but he’s not my number one fan.”

  “Well, fuck ’im. Shit a brick—sorry, that came out wrong.”

  “Are you alright?” Gabriel said.

  “No, not really. Can we back up for a moment so that I can apologize? About before, when we had our falling-out. I’m not normally such a loose cannon, but this has been the worst summer of my life, and I’ve had some bad ones.”

  “The fault was mine, Jade. My reactions were petty and arrogant.”

  “Far from it. You thought I’d lied to you, and I get it, I do. Sometimes you just want to be one person’s priority.” She added five hours to the studio clock. Did Gabriel have his postdinner pink gin in hand? “Darius is good at that. He always puts Marianne first, no hesitation. I used to think he was out of his ever-lovin’ mind, but you’ve got to admire his devotion.” A first for her. Never again would she tease Darius about being henpecked. “How is he?”

  “Doing rather well. Want to chat with him?”

  “In a minute. Can you just listen to my ramblings for a bit longer? Now that I’m the boss, the only thing everyone wants from me is certainty, and I’m wearing thin in the department of making sense.”

  “Then you shall have my undivided attention. I’m sitting at my desk with a pink gin, about to make you my number one priority. What ails you, my child?”

  Jade smiled and got up to leave the control room, but she paused and leaned back against the open door. The doorknob dug into her spine. “I’m struggling,” she said, “to figure out how all this impacts me, which is selfish, I know, but with everything that’s gone down between your world and mine, I’m kind of unanchored. Like I don’t know what I want anymore. I mean, I’m working to exhaustion every night, and once upon a time that would have been enough. I—I dunno what’s got into me.” Big fat lie, girl.

  “Jade, you’ve been under extraordinary stress. You need to look after yourself.”

  “I don’t have the energy right now.”

  “Who looks after you when you’re sick?”

  “I’m low maintenance. Don’t get sick.”

  “Everyone gets sick.”

  “Not me. I’m a self-contained pro.”

  “Well, Ms. Self-Contained Pro, make time for a regular activity that gives you emotional space. For me it’s those long, solitary walks across Dead Woman.”

  “Reading for me, but not so much lately. I was on a Daphne du Maurier kick until this all blew up.”

  “Have you read her short stories: ‘The Birds,’ ‘Don’t Look Now’?”

  “She wrote ‘The Birds’? Wow.”

  “Short fiction is an excellent balm for the stressed. Poetry too. I’m sure you could fit one of those in before bedtime.”

  “I’ve never read much poetry.”

  “Then I’ll send you one of my favorite anthologies—as a delayed thank-you for the headphones. And remember, I’m only ever a text message away.”

  “Thank you.” She held the phone to her cheek and ran out of things to say. Silence, as perfect as his laugh, spread between them.

  Gabriel cleared his throat. “I’ll get Darius for you.”

  And she wanted to say, No. I can keep talking if you can keep making me your number one priority. But he’d gone, and she was losing it. Gabriel was a man of God. Who’d likely never been laid. Who likely didn’t believe in nonmarital coitus. Who, whatever he told himself, was likely still besotted with his first love.

  Then she hit the red “End Call” button, locked the studio, and walked through Marianne’s garden to Ernie, her first love. A black snake, lounging by the pond, shot behind the metal sculpture of a praying mantis.

  “That’s right, you big frog-eating loser. Slither off and hide.” She would if she could.

  Jade started the engine and then, rummaging through her messenger bag, fished out the CD of a track she was mixing. She could con herself into believing this drive was about work, since she listened to all her mixes through the bass of the car stereo, but really, what she needed was thinking time.

  Finally she understood why Darius had stayed in England; finally she understood what it meant to stand your ground for someone you loved. To not retreat—whatever the personal cost. Jesse had deserved better, and yet she bailed on him. But Marianne? She owed Marianne her life. Which meant Marianne must always come first; which meant these feelings for Gabriel should be napalmed.

  She crisscrossed the county until the light faded to dusk and fireflies sparked at the edge of the forest. Adult fireflies, Marianne had once told her, spend most of their lives searching for a mate, and after the females lay eggs, they die. Their sole purpose is to reproduce. To reproduce, but not to mother. What a sad existence. Reproduction and motherhood weren’t necessarily connected. Marianne had always been her real mother and the only person Jade had ever truly loved.

  Jade gripped the steering wheel. “Okay, God. We’ve never talked before, but we have a mutual friend, and I think it
’s time we had a chat. I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little skeptical that you exist, but given that Gabriel is the most upstanding human being on the planet, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. So here it goes: I’m in love, and it can only hurt the person I care most about—Marianne. I’d be grateful if you could take these feelings for Gabriel and trash them. Deal?”

  She didn’t know what she’d expected, but just saying those ludicrous words out loud—I’m in love—was empowering. Yeah, it was all good. She was so over this whole thing. Definitely going to follow through on that invitation for coffee from Ricky Tanner, former UNC basketball star and best friend of Winnie’s son. He was a total hunk.

  As darkness descended on the unlit country roads and the tiny pulses of light from the fireflies vanished, she stayed alert, watching for deer. When her stomach growled, she turned onto Highway 54 toward her favorite Mexican restaurant, Fiesta Grill. She would order nachos and chicken fajitas with corn tortillas. It wasn’t until she’d parked and inhaled the symphony of a Carolina night, with tree frogs and katydids, that she remembered why she’d called the rectory: to talk with Darius.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  GABRIEL

  Morning prayer was no longer sacred, and a closed door in the rectory meant nothing. Gabriel sighed. Forgive her, Lord, she knows not what—

  “I’ve figured out where she is!” Marianne waved at him to get moving, which accentuated the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her rather skimpy top.

  Darius appeared behind her, wearing boxer briefs that left nothing to the imagination, and slipped his arms around her waist. Gabriel stared at the spines on the top row of his bookshelves and focused on his P. D. James collection. What would Commander Adam Dalgliesh, his favorite literary hero, have made of Darius’s constant need to touch Marianne in front of others? Or was the show reserved for Gabriel’s benefit?

  Gabriel picked up a copy of the Church Times and fanned his face.