Written on My Heart

by Morgan Callan Rogers

  “Wow,” I said. “Look at you!” She looked amazing. She had to be fifty-three or fifty-four, as she had graduated high school with Daddy, and she looked great. Her wild black hair had been cut and styled so the curls framed her pale face. Her eyes shone a clear, soft gray. She had put on weight, and it looked good on her.

  She smiled. “Well, thanks,” she said.

  “Heard you have a new man.”

  She blushed. “I do, Florine. Wasn’t looking for anyone. Didn’t want anyone, and then Bernard came into my life. I met him in Long Reach, believe it or not.”

  “That’s good. Daddy wouldn’t want you moping around.”

  “I’ll always miss him, more than I can say, Florine. I’ll always love him. There’s no way I can’t and there are days that all I do is see his face and hear his voice. But Bernard is a widower, and he understands what I go through along those lines.”

  “You and Bernard moving into the house?” I asked.

  “Oh, no. That’s what I came to talk to you about,” she said.

  For heaven’s sake, Florine, ask the woman to sit down, Grand whispered.

  “Have a seat,” I said. “Want some tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Stella said. She sat down beside Travis, who reached out and grabbed her hair in his fist.

  “That’s his newest thing,” I said. “Hope he’s smoother than that when he starts going out with the ladies.” I untangled his hand from her hair. “You hungry?” I asked.

  “Oh, no,” she said. She sighed. “Florine, I need to say something that’s hard to say, but I hope you’ll think about it.”

  “Seems we always have hard things to say,” I said. “Nothing new there. Hit me.”

  Stella shook her head and smiled. “You know,” she said, “you’re more like your father than you probably will ever know.”

  I blinked back tears. “Yeah, well, tell me.”

  Stella took a deep breath. “Okay. Here’s the thing. Bernard comes from New Hampshire, and he has a house on Lake Winnipesaukee. It’s a beautiful home, and he wants me to live with him. He wants to marry me, Florine.”

  “I noticed that rock on your hand,” I said. “I put two and two together.”

  “Yes. Well. The thing is, I won’t be coming back here again. There are too many memories and too many reminders of a life I’m not living anymore. I want to spend what time Bernard and I have traveling and living on the lake.”

  “So, you’re selling the house?” I said. “Damn.”

  Before everything in my childhood had gone to hell, that house had been my home. Now strangers would live there, and chances were, they would overpay for the view. That would trigger property assessments, which would increase the value of all the houses on The Point and raise taxes to a place where none of us would be able to afford to live there anymore. Damn.

  Stella said, “I want to sell it, yes. I want to sell it to you for a dollar.”

  She shocked me stupid for about thirty seconds. I finally squeaked out, “What?”

  “I want to sell it to you, for a dollar, and I’ll take care of any expenses that go along with that.”

  “What? Why? What?”

  “I know I could get a lot of money for it, but it would change the face of this place, and I want to leave it like I found it. I know you’ll take care of it.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch,” Stella said. “It’s really your house anyway.”

  With all of our history, all of our fights, jealousies, resentments, vandalism, and assaults, our awkward truces, and everything else we’d put each other through, this was the strangest twist yet.

  Stella reached over the table and placed her bejeweled, milk-colored hand with its perfect, red-polished fingernails on my bigger, rougher hand with its broken nails. “Look,” she said, “Grand would approve of this. She’d say it’s practical and that it makes perfect sense.”

  I nodded. “She would,” I said.

  “Well, then, think about it. I’m here, with Grace, for a couple of days while we figure out what to take and what to leave—or if you don’t want anything in the house, we can move it all. Talk it over with Bud. You’ve got some time. I’m not deciding anything until I hear from you.”

  Suddenly overwhelmed with something that felt suspiciously like gratitude, I decided to tell her something I’d kept from her since Daddy’s death. “Daddy’s not buried on the hill,” I said. “We took him out to sea the night of his funeral.”

  Stella smiled. “I know,” she said. “Billy told me, after a while. I still put flowers there every year.” She got up, bent down, and kissed Travis’s curls. She held out her hand to me and we shook on our upcoming deal. I saw her out and watched her walk back to the house.

  My house.

  43

  Friday night, Bud hobbled up from Ida’s at about midnight.

  He woke me up out of a sound sleep with a gentle shake and a whispered, “Florine.”

  I stared up at what I could see of his face in the murky dark. “What’s wrong?” I said. He pulled back the covers.

  “Bud, I don’t want to—”

  “Come down to the porch. I want to talk to you,” he said.

  “Talk to me here.”

  “I don’t want to whisper,” he said.

  I followed him downstairs even as sleep pulled me backward. We walked through the living room, hall, and kitchen and ended up on the porch in side-by-side rocking chairs. “Do you want some tea?” he asked.

  “No, I want to go back to bed.”

  “What I have to say won’t take long,” he said.

  “Okay, what?” I said. I yawned.

  He drew in a ragged breath and let it out. “I called Billy today and he’s getting me into an AA meeting. I’m going, Florine. I can’t lose you and the kids. I know you want to live here and that’s fine. I want to live with you. I can figure something else out. If you want to work at Ray’s, you can work at Ray’s. You can do whatever you want to do. Just don’t leave me.”

  His eyes glittered in the small light cast by the half-moon hanging high overhead.

  I wanted to throw my arms around him and say yes, yes, yes, but instead, I said, “Go to the AA meeting. Let’s take our time. I want to live with you too. You know the conditions.”

  “I know,” he said. “You’re being a hardass, and I guess you got a right to be. I guess that’s one reason I love you. You got my word that what’s been happening is going to stop. I promise.”

  “I don’t care about your promises. I care about you being sober.”

  We rocked back and forth for a minute or so.

  “You sending me back to Ida’s?” Bud said.

  “I am tonight,” I said.

  He stopped rocking and looked at me. “Okay,” he said.

  We kissed good night at the door and I watched him hobble down the path. It was all I could do not to call him back to me. Instead, I forced myself inside and walked upstairs.

  “Mama?” Arlee called.

  I walked into her room. Travis was sound asleep. “What is it?” I asked my daughter.

  “I want Daddy,” she said.

  “He’ll be home soon,” I told her. We walked across the hall and cuddled for the rest of the night.

  Ida let herself into the house early on Saturday morning. She stood and watched me try to cram sneakers onto Arlee’s restless feet.

  “I can do it,” Arlee said, so I let her put them onto the wrong feet and tangle the laces before I untangled them and put them on the right feet. I double-knotted them, as my mother had done for me.

  “I heard Bud leave last night,” Ida said.

  “Then I guess you heard him come back too,” I said.

  “I did,” she said. “He’s still in bed. The sleep will do him good.”

 
Arlee pointed to her feet and said to Ida, “I did this myself.”

  Ida smiled. “You have a wonderful imagination,” she said to Arlee.

  “Do you want some tea?” I said.

  “Love some,” Ida said, and we went into the kitchen. I put on the kettle for her.

  Travis, who had been crawling around his toys on the floor, followed his grandmother into the kitchen. When Ida sat down at the table, he pulled himself up. She set him on her lap. “Billy’s coming down this morning to talk to Bud about things,” she said.

  I said, “Bud told me he called him yesterday. Said Billy was going to get him into an AA meeting.”

  Ida looked at me. “I called Billy a few days ago. Billy said Bud needed to take the first step. I’m happy he’s done it.”

  I nodded. “How is Billy?”

  “He’s much better,” Ida said. “Back to performing services.”

  “You took good care of him. He’s lucky to have had you do that.”

  “Maureen helped. I think she has a crush on him. She’s been moody since he left.”

  I’ll bet, I thought. The phone rang. It was Robin, asking if she could come down to visit. She asked how Bud was doing. He was doing much better, I told her, and I would love to have her visit.

  I hung up the phone and joined Ida, again. She said, “My son is lucky to be alive.”

  “Damn lucky.”

  “It’s hard to know what to do. Obviously he can’t handle hard liquor the way his father couldn’t handle hard liquor. Sam blacked out too sometimes. Didn’t remember what he had done or said.”

  “I know what to do, Ida. I expect Bud to shape up.”

  She nodded. “Of course you do. He’s lucky to have a strong woman in his life.”

  “Two strong women,” I said.

  Ida looked down at Travis. He grinned at her and pulled her nose.

  “Can I get a cup of coffee?” Bud said from the kitchen doorway.

  “Daddy!” Arlee shouted, and ran to show him the sneakers she had tied.

  Robin, Arlee, and I took a walk later that day, up over The Cheeks—soon to be My Cheeks—and up the path that led to the park. Little hunks of snow humped up here and there, but we kicked it aside and kept walking.

  “You excited about California?” I asked Robin.

  “For now, I guess it’s where I want to be. It’s nice to be near Dad, and I love Valerie.”

  “You might miss the seasons.”

  “I might.”

  “You might need somewhere to stay when you come to visit.”

  Robin smiled. “I might,” she said.

  “I might have a place for you.”

  “No offense, but your house is about filled up.”

  “I’m talking about Daddy’s house.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I told her, and we grabbed hands and jumped up and down.

  “Me too,” Arlee said, and we all jumped up and down. Then we walked on.

  “You know, you should rent it out. You’ll need the income. It shouldn’t be empty,” Robin said.

  “I haven’t even told Bud,” I said. “We’ll have to talk about what to do with it.”

  “You should have told him before you told me.”

  “I couldn’t wait anymore. I only found out yesterday and I’m rolling it around in my head.”

  I wanted to show Robin my secret place, and so we skirted the brush and took the path that led to the Barringtons’. A large crow flew toward us. The closer it came, the lower it flew, until Robin and I ducked. The satiny brush of a black wing touched my cheek as the bird rose again.

  “What the hell?” I said.

  “Jesus crow,” said Arlee.

  “That was weird,” Robin said. “In Ireland, crows represent war and death on the battlefield.”

  “That’s gloomy,” I said. “And we’re not in Ireland.”

  “We’re Irish. Your mother is Irish.”

  “I want to go, Mama,” Arlee said.

  “Me too,” I agreed, and the three of us trotted back to the main path and walked to the bench. We watched the water flow for a few minutes, but we couldn’t shake the creepy feeling surrounding the low-flying crow, so we headed back toward the house.

  When we reached The Cheeks, Robin and I jumped down. As I reached up to help Arlee, we heard two women screeching at each other from Daddy’s house.

  “Don’t you dare!” (Stella’s voice.)

  “Ain’t yours to dare me.” (Grace.)

  “Grace, those are mine.”

  “No, they ain’t. They never was.”

  “I want to get rid of them.”

  “Not yours to get rid of.”

  “What do you care? Please, give them to me.”

  “She should know.”

  “She doesn’t need to know. She’s got enough problems.”

  “I’m giving them to her.”

  Thumps in the house, then a yell, as if someone had been hurt. The front door opened and the screen door whined, and then slammed. Slammed again. “No!” Stella hollered. “Give those to me.”

  “Let’s see what’s going on,” I said, and Robin, Arlee, and I ran around the house to the sight of the two sisters tug-of-warring at a wad of paper.

  “Hey,” I yelled, “cut it out.” Stella and Grace stopped and looked at me. Another door slammed as Bud crossed the road from our house. Billy, who had evidently come to visit Bud while Robin and I had been walking, followed him.

  “What the hell is going on?” Bud said.

  Grace ignored him. “I got some letters from someone to your mother,” she said to me.

  “They’re nothing,” Stella said. “I was going to burn them.”

  “Whatever they are, they belong to Florine. Hand them over,” Bud said. With his busted-up face and battered body, no one sane would have argued with him. The trouble was, neither sister wanted to be the first to let go, so Bud grabbed the letters from between them. A couple of them fluttered to the ground and Stella snatched them up. Bud held out his hand.

  “They’re nothing, really, Bud,” she said.

  “Yes, they are,” I said. “What are they?”

  Stella sighed. “Oh, Florine,” she said.

  “What are they, Stella?” I yelled.

  “Oh, they’re stupid, really. They’re letters to Carlie from Edward Barrington. If she’d wanted you to have them, I’m sure she would have given them to you.”

  “Maybe she would have if she hadn’t disappeared, Stella. Give Bud the letters.”

  “Florine, stay calm,” Billy said. I glared at him.

  “Mama,” Arlee whimpered, and I lowered my voice.

  “Are those the letters someone has been sending me?” I asked.

  “Oh, honey,” Stella said. Her face crumpled and she sat down on the front steps. “Why does it matter now?” But she handed them over to Bud.

  “Thank you, Stella,” Billy said. Bud scowled at all of us and said, “I’m going back across the road.” He limped away, Billy talking to him as they walked.

  I said to Stella, “Anything having to do with Carlie will always matter. Always.”

  “I sent you some,” Grace said.

  I stared into her plain face. “What?” I said.

  “I sent you some,” she said.

  “You sent them? Why the hell did you do that?” I said.

  Grace shrugged. “You been so mean to Stella.”

  “What?” Stella and I said at the same time.

  I walked toward Grace. “What’s between Stella and me has nothing to do with you.” Blood does boil. I know it does, because mine was about to blow out of the top of my head.

  Grace said, “You’re an awful person. Treated your father so bad he died early. You walk around this place like yo
u own it, but this is Stella’s house and you made her feel so bad . . .”

  Stella said, “Grace . . .” just as I slapped her across the face with my right hand, and then my left one. Arlee screamed, “Mama!” as Grace, who evidently had been a boxer at some time in her mysterious life, smacked me in the left eye, hard, and I went down.

  Then Bud was somehow there again with Billy, who backed the Drowns sisters into the house while Bud helped me up and hustled Robin, a shrieking Arlee, and me into Grand’s house.

  44

  Robin went for the freezer and cracked open a couple of trays of ice cubes. She rinsed out a clean dishcloth and tied some cubes inside of it. “Here,” she said. “Hold this against your eye.”

  I did what she said and bent down to Arlee’s level. My little girl was shaking.

  “Mama’s okay,” I said. “I shouldn’t have hit Grace.” Arlee wrapped her legs around my waist. I picked her up and we both sat down on a kitchen chair.

  “Anyplace else hurt?” Robin asked.

  “My hands sting,” I said.

  “Fuck were you thinking?” Bud growled.

  “Grace sent her the letters,” Robin started to explain.

  “I’m not asking you, Robin,” Bud said. “I’m asking my wife.”

  “Grace sent those letters,” I repeated.

  “Nut job,” Bud said. “Nut freakin’ job.” His eyes crackled with anger. “Look,” he said, “only you would pick a fight with the craziest woman on Earth. And I’m so damn sick of all of this. We got to figure this out. You want me to move on and quit drinking? Okay, then, you get this shit settled, so we can both just stop fiddle-farting around with ‘where the hell is Carlie?’ Christ on a crutch, this needs to go away.”

  “Daddy’s mad,” Arlee observed from my lap.

  “I don’t blame him,” I said. “He’s right.”

  “You think I’m right?” Bud said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Well, Hal-the fucking-lujah.” He threw his arms into the air, and then flinched.

  “Bud, how are you feeling?” Robin asked. “I drove down to see how you were.”

  “Like I’ve been hit by a car, but otherwise good.”