Return to Little Hills

by Janice Macdonald

  “D’you wash your hands?”

  Edie slapped her forehead, her patience gone. “Goddamn it, Mom—”

  “Don’t you swear at me,” Maude said. “And don’t hit your head like that, you’ll get a brain tumor. You’re not the easiest person to get along with, either, I’ll tell you that. And I don’t like being made to feel that I’m some helpless old woman who can’t do a thing for herself. I get up every morning at six, you ask Vivian, she’ll tell you. Get up and fix my own breakfast. And I won’t put up with you shouting and taking your bad moods out on me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Frustration subsided into something more complex, a dark jumble of feelings that brought her close to tears again. She sat on the bed. “I wanted to do something nice for you. I didn’t do it because I think you’re helpless or an invalid. I just thought you’d enjoy breakfast in bed, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “I used to walk to the market every day.” Maude, still looking aggrieved, had not touched the omelet. “You can ask anyone, up to the market and back, sometimes with a bag of groceries. Oh Vivian always says she’ll take me, but she has a busy life. I don’t need her running around after me. Besides, she’s got problems with Ray and that new principal. Seemed nice enough to me, though.”

  “Well, let’s not think about that right now.” Edie was still focused on the omelet, its appetizing brown puffiness sadly deflated. “Are you going to eat this, or not?”

  “Peter Darling.” Maude cut a small piece of omelet and lifted it to her mouth. “Don’t know what made me think of him right now. Funny name. That’s the boy in Peter Pan, isn’t it?”

  Edie watched Maude chew. “What do you think?”

  “Ray doesn’t like him, Vivian said. Says he’s got his head in the clouds.”

  On the verge of slapping her head again, Edie counted to ten instead. “Good omelet, huh, Mom?”

  “Wife died, Viv said. Left him with four little girls. When are you going to settle down, Edie? Leave it too long and you’ll be too old to have kids.”

  “I said, good omelet, huh, Mom?”

  “Eh?” Maude cut another piece. “Nice. I can still taste green pepper, though.”

  From the hallway, Edie could hear the clanging ring of the old black phone. “Eat,” she said as she darted downstairs to catch the phone. It was Vivian.

  “Just leaving,” she said. “I hope you gave Mom plenty of time to get ready. She moves pretty slowly these days. See you in fifteen minutes.”

  “Edith,” Maude called from the bedroom. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

  Edie hung up the phone and returned to the bedroom. “That was Viv. You need to get dressed. We’re going out to Maple Grove.”

  “Viv said she set up an appointment,” Maude said.

  “I know, Mom. That’s what I’m saying.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Remember what I told you, though. This is your decision. You don’t have to do it.”

  “Look.” Maude held up her fork. “Green pepper. Told you I could smell it.”

  “MR. DARLING.” Betty Jean regarded Peter fondly but with obvious exasperation, as though he were an inattentive child who had once again forgotten his homework. “Have you heard anything I said?”

  Peter stopped thinking about Edie and summoned a suitably involved expression. “You said, I believe, that the copier is on the blink again.”

  “And…”

  “Hmm. Refresh my memory.”

  “You have a parent meeting in twenty minutes. And here’s a list Mrs. Adams gave me of things she wants to discuss with you.” She set the list on the desk in front of him. “Is everything all right, Mr. Darling? The girls and all?”

  “The girls are fine, Betty Jean. Thank you for asking.”

  She left and Peter tried to focus on the list.

  “Well, perhaps children are like a foreign language to her,” Sophia had said the night before when he’d told her about Edie’s comment in the park. “All women are not, by definition, maternal candidates. I’m not myself. As much as I adore the girls, I can’t say I’ve ever had any particular desire to have children of my own.”

  “Natalie thought she seemed haughty,” Peter said.

  “Well, perhaps she did.”

  “And she gave Delphina a rather cold look, I thought.”

  Sophia looked exasperated. “Peter, what on earth do you expect? You’ve said quite clearly that you’re not attracted to warm cuddly women who want babies. Now you’ve met the type of woman you are attracted to, but you expect her to embrace your children with open arms. That’s very unrealistic of you.”

  Peter had conceded that he supposed it was unrealistic. He’d felt disappointed nonetheless.

  “Perhaps this woman has no interest in you,” Sophia said. “Could that be the case? Has she given you any reason to suppose her feelings are reciprocal?”

  “Not really. So far she’s turned down every invitation I’ve extended.”

  “Well, there you are then,” Sophia said. “She’s probably involved with someone else.”

  “Actually, she did mention a boyfriend.”

  Sophia had been leafing through a magazine and she threw it at his head. “Peter, you are so thick, you’re driving me mad. Pull yourself together, for God’s sake, and look elsewhere. Or I shall be forced to take matters into my own hands.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “GUESS WHAT?” Vivian said later as they drove Maude out to see the Maple Grove place. “Peter asked Beth for a date.”

  In the back seat, Edie had been thinking about Peter, comparing again the look he’d given her at school that first day with last night’s look in the park. She had almost succeeded in convincing herself that perhaps, instead of last night’s remark making her seem cold and unfeeling, it actually spoke of a willingness to learn. In fact, she wasn’t sure now whether she’d said, “…a foreign language I have no desire to learn” or “…a foreign language I’d like to learn.” Vivian’s announcement jerked her out of her reverie. “A date. When?”

  “Next weekend, I think. They’re going to the butterfly exhibit. He asked her a couple of days ago. I forget when exactly.”

  “Good, that’s great.” Edie picked at her thumbnail. So here she was beating herself up for some stupid remark when, by the time she’d made it, Peter had already invited Beth out and was no doubt viewing her as a New Mommy candidate. Well, good. Beth would make an excellent mother. Probably a good wife, too. Loving, warm, generous. A drop of blood appeared on Edie’s cuticle and she stuck her thumb in her mouth, tasting salt as she watched the Missouri countryside flash by through the tinted windows of Vivian’s car.

  “Edith made me breakfast this morning,” Maude told Vivian. “In bed.”

  “Well, that was nice.” Vivian turned to smile approval at Edie.

  “Gave me heartburn,” Maude said. “And then she rushed me to get ready.”

  “Mom.” Swallowing irritation, Edie leaned over to talk straight into her mother’s ear. Maude, disgruntled that she’d been rushed, had refused to wear her hearing aid. No one was likely to say anything she wanted to hear, she’d announced.

  “This first place, Mom,” Edie said, “is Maple Grove. Then we’re going to—”

  “I’ve seen it already,” Maude said.

  “I know, but I haven’t. After that, we’re going to see Sunset Manor, and then—”

  “Banana,” Maude shook her head. “I’m still full from that breakfast you made me eat. I can feel those green peppers coming up,” she said and then, as if to demonstrate, belched loudly. “I told you I can’t take them, but you never listen. Poor old Mom, that’s what you both think. Poor old Mom, she won’t know—”

  “I scraped away every bit of the damn peppers, Mom.” Edie met her sister’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Looking amused, Vivian slowly shook her head. Edie leaned back in the seat, close to tears for the second time that day. Why did Maude always leave her feeling defeated? In the front seat, Vivian was extolli
ng the virtues of Maple Grove.

  “You’re going to love it there, Mom.” Vivian kept turning her head to look at Maude. “I just know you’ll be so much happier there than in that big old house that’s always needing something done to it. Edie and I both feel that way. We want what’s best for you.”

  “You do something to your hair?” Maude stretched up a hand to touch Vivian’s smooth reddish-blond pageboy. “Looks nice. Doesn’t it look nice, Edith?”

  “Yes, it does,” Edie agreed, looking at Vivian. “I like it that length.”

  “Makes you look younger than your sister,” Maude said. “I think so, anyway.”

  Edie eyed the patch of pink exposed skin on her mother’s neck. She is old. She has cataracts. What the hell does it matter what she thinks? She leaned forward again. “What we want you to know, Mom, is that there are other alternatives. You don’t have to give up your house. I called this visiting nurse—”

  “I’ve got my purse.” Maude patted the beige vinyl handbag on her lap. “Like it? Selma got it at that thrift shop on Main Street.” Twisting around in the seat to look at Edie, she snapped open the purse. “It’s clean, see? Not even used.”

  “Edie’s right, Mom,” Vivian said. “There are other alternatives, but you and I both know that keeping the house wouldn’t be a good idea. Besides, you’ll just be happier with other people your own age.” She pinched Maude’s arm. “Who knows, you might meet a handsome gentleman.”

  “It’s one option, Mom,” Edie said. In the rearview mirror, she caught Vivian’s irritated expression, but plowed on, anyway. “When you’ve seen all these places today, we’ll make a list of pros and cons and compare those with the good things and not-so-good things about staying in your house.”

  “Where you could trip over a rug, break your hip and end up in hospital,” Viv said in a low voice, clearly intended just for Edie. “Edie won’t be here to visit you every day, of course. She has a big important job—”

  “I just want to make sure it’s what Mom wants,” Edie said in the same low voice, “and not what we’re forcing her into.”

  “As I said, Edie…” Vivian braked behind a crossing guard who was leading a line of children across the street. “You are more than welcome to take over the reins from me. Of course, now that you’ve suddenly become the expert on what she needs, it shouldn’t be any problem.” One hand off the wheel, she reached over to pat Maude’s knee. “I bet it’s nice to have Edie back home for a while,” she said loud enough for Maude to hear. “Too bad we don’t see her more often, huh? Gets kind of lonely for you, doesn’t it? You start getting depressed.”

  “I know I do.” Maude fished in her purse for a tissue, dabbed at her eyes. “You’re a good girl.” A moment passed, then she turned her head to look at Edie. “You too,” she said.

  “Well, here we are,” Viv said as she pulled in to the long driveway of Maple Grove. “Jeez, Mom, it looks so nice I kind of wish I was old enough to be going there.” She winked at Edie. “Don’t you think so, Eed? I think Mom’s going to be really happy here.”

  “MR. DARLING.” Betty Jean crooked her finger at Peter as he was walking into the staff meeting. “Come here.” She glanced at his shirtfront. “I’m kinda worried about you today. Were you stabbed in the heart or something?”

  Peter glanced down and saw the purplish-red stain over his shirt pocket. Natalie had shoved something in there when he saw her off to school. “I made you lunch, Daddy,” she’d whispered.

  “Hmm.” He removed it. “Appears to be another one of Natalie’s jam sandwiches, a little worse for wear.”

  Betty Jean held out her hand. “Want me to toss it for you?”

  “Of course not,” Peter said. “What would I eat for lunch?”

  “…and I’m a firm believer in teacher autonomy,” he was saying some twenty minutes later to the assembled teaching staff. “I will leave you alone unless you show that you’re unable to handle a class of normal human beings—”

  To his left someone snickered and Peter turned to see Ray Jenkins shaking his head.

  “Point of clarification, Pete.” Ray wore the look of someone confident he was about to publicly make a fool of someone else. “Kid comes to school with a gun. That’s normal? Another kid rapes a girl in a stairwell. That’s normal? Gangbangers? Kids whose old ladies turn tricks? That’s all normal in your book?”

  “Your point?”

  Ray laughed. “Hell, Pete, none of these kids are normal. If they were, they wouldn’t be at Luther in the first place.”

  Peter leaned back in his chair. The room was suddenly quiet and heavy with tension. Gunfight at the O.K. Corral about to erupt between the principal and his sidekick. “Perhaps you would define normal for me, Ray.”

  Ray’s face colored, but his grin didn’t fade. “Normal.” He scratched his head, appeared to think for a moment. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I see as normal. Not to brag or anything, but I consider my two sons pretty normal.” He laughed. “Pains in the ass at times, but I’d say they’re normal kids.”

  “And what makes them normal, in your opinion?” Peter paused. “Other than their impeccable parentage, of course.”

  Ray laughed again, as did a few of the teachers. “Good one, Pete. Okay, they go to school every day, no cutting class or anything like that. They make decent grades. They’re not into drugs and gangs. They both play sports…”

  “And they have two parents at home, both actively involved in their lives,” Peter added. “When they arrive home from school, someone is there to encourage them, to help put their problems and frustrations into perspective. They’re not left to fend for themselves, to judge what’s important and what isn’t…” He looked at Ray. “I could go on, but is that essentially correct?”

  “Yeah, well, my wife’s always stayed at home. We both think it’s important.”

  “I’m sure you do. Unfortunately, most of our students don’t have that advantage. School is the only stability many of them know, the only safe place where there are rules to follow and obligations to meet. Our students are intelligent, talented and articulate, but, for a variety of reasons, the traditional setting hasn’t worked and…” The secretary had stuck her head around the door. “Yes, Betty Jean?”

  “A fight’s broken out in the parking lot, Mr. Darling.”

  Ray sprang from his seat as if propelled. “I’ll handle it.”

  “Where’s security?” Peter asked the secretary.

  “He’s trying to break it up.”

  “Does he need help?”

  “I don’t think so. I just thought you should know.”

  “Thank you, Betty Jean.”

  “I better check it out, anyway.” Ray stood at the door, clearly eager to make a break. “You never know.”

  “I’d prefer that you stay here.” Peter glanced at his watch and trotted out all the housekeeping details and sundry matters necessary to hold the meeting until the very last minute. “And let me just say,” he added finally, “that I’m looking to all of you for creativity and innovation. Take risks. Teach on the edge. Don’t rely solely on what has worked in the past,” he said, making it a point to look at Ray Jenkins, livid with anger at the end of the table. “Toss out the dog-eared notes. Come to me with new ideas. If they work, we’ll build on them. If they don’t, we’ll toss them out. Fine-tune, tweak, change something here, add something there. Spice it up. I’d like each of you to think about a different approach to the subject you’re teaching and be prepared to discuss it with the group at our next meeting.”

  As he returned to his office after the meeting, Betty Jean buzzed to say he had a call. “One of your little girls,” she said.

  It was Delphina.

  “Daddy, there’s going to be a dance recital and I’m going to be a butterfly.”

  “A butterfly.” Peter sat on the edge of his desk, smiling as he pictured Delphina’s solemn little face. “That’s wonderful. Did you choose to be that, or—”

  “I cho
se it. We could be birds or bees and I asked if I could be a butterfly. But they don’t have butterfly costumes, so the teacher said I have to make one. I need big gauzy wings that flap around.”

  “Big gauzy wings? Well, I’m sure Auntie Sophia can come up with something.”

  “She said she can’t.” A note of distress in Delphina’s voice now. “She said she can’t even sew buttons on…”

  “Hmm.” Beth Herman had come into the office and Peter motioned that he’d be right with her. “Well, look, we’ll just have to put our thinking caps on.”

  A silence on the line. “Will it be all right, Daddy?”

  “Of course it will,” Peter said. “I promise. Bye-bye darling. See you this evening.”

  “Would you know anything about making butterfly wings?” he asked Beth.

  “OKAY, are you convinced now?” Vivian asked Edie as they took Interstate 40 back to Little Hills with Maude asleep in the back seat. “You’ve seen each place. I wasn’t too jazzed with Sunset Manor, but the second one was okay, and Maple Grove…well, what can I say?”

  “Nothing,” Edie said, then had a thought. “What about her cats?”

  “Her cats?” Viv dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “I’ll find somewhere for them. I’m always worrying about her tripping over the damn things, anyway. You know how they’re always under your feet? They drive me nuts. I’d never have a cat, let alone three.”

  From the backseat, Edie could hear Maude snoring. Small, soft, sputtery sounds that made her feel tender and protective. The way she felt only when Maude was asleep. Given its rocky start, she reflected, the day had gone quite well. After her latest tour of Maple Grove, Maude had been so enthusiastic and adamant that it was exactly where she wanted to spend the rest of her years that she’d refused even to consider the fourth place Vivian had lined up for her to see. “My mind’s made up,” she’d told her daughters. “Go ahead and start packing my things.”

  “I knew you’d be sold once you saw it,” Viv said. “And Edie, I’m sorry if I got snippy with you earlier. Everything’s so…I don’t know. I told you about Brad and this new girlfriend of his, right?”