by Rae Walsh
Daniel appeared at the front counter.
“Hi, Reesey,” he said.
“Hi, Daniel. I love your posters.”
“You do?” He turned slightly pink. “Thanks. I’m hoping the head office doesn’t make me take them down.”
Theresa looked around. She could still see all the essential things—the signs, the posters that advertised stamps, the post office boxes.
“I don’t see why they would,” she said.
“Did you come just to look at my walls?” he asked her.
She approached him and leaned her elbows on the counter. Her stomach was rumbling with hunger now. “No, I wanted to know if there’s anything I need to do to register my address or anything.”
“Do you mean forwarding your mail from your old address?”
“No, I’ve already done that and changed everything.”
“Then, no, I don’t think so. Why?”
“I order a lot of my pottery supplies online. Glazes, tools, clay. Some days I’m not home.”
“Oh. Well, that’s easy. If you’re not home, we’ll deliver a notice, and you can come in and pick your packages up here.”
That made Theresa feel better. She didn’t like the thought of the boxes sitting on her porch. Maybe the dog was a chewer of boxes. You never knew.
“What time is the mail delivered?” she asked.
“To your house? Probably around two o’clock in the afternoon.”
Theresa nodded. That was good. Maddie was still at school at two o’clock. If any strange letters came for her, only Daniel and the delivery person would see them. Theresa didn’t want Maddie to see them if they came. Theresa had told Maddie the letters had stopped, and she hoped that they had, but she knew she couldn’t count on it.
Daniel smiled at her. “It’s good to have you back, Reesey,” he told her.
“Yes, we oddballs need to stick together.” Back when Sheldon, Daniel, and Theresa were close friends, Sheldon had nicknamed them the oddballs. Theresa loved the name. It made her feel less alone. It had been so hard to leave their little circle.
“The other oddball doesn’t want me to stick very close to you,” Daniel said.
Theresa gasped. “Sheldon? Did he say something to you?”
Daniel grinned, and his dimples, so surprising, flashed in his cheeks. “Yes,” he said. “But don’t worry, I think I convinced him that we’re just friends.”
“I’m so glad we are,” Theresa said, reaching out and catching his hand in hers. “I need friends, and Sheldon doesn’t want to be my friend right now.”
“Give him time,” Daniel said. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Have you hung out much with Katie yet?”
“No, not yet. I’m a little nervous. Maddie loves her, and she’s so tall and beautiful and confident.” She would never have dreamed of telling Sam that, or even Sheldon. She didn’t like to admit how insecure she really was. But Daniel was easy to talk to.
“She’s a good one. Don’t judge her for her happiness. She has depth to her.”
She smiled at him. “I’ll remember that. You always know who to trust.”
Daniel ducked his head, and Theresa turned to leave.
“Whose dog is that?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Have you ever seen it before?”
Daniel shook his head. “Looks like he’s yours.”
Theresa frowned as she marched across the street to Green’s. Why did everyone keep saying that? A dog couldn’t just be hers, could it? It must belong to someone.
She was starving, she needed groceries, and Sheldon was going to get a piece of her mind.
The bells announced her arrival. “Why does everyone in this town have bells on their doors?” she demanded as she walked into the store. The young, baby-faced cashiers blinked at her.
“Is Lucy here?” she asked.
One of the cashiers shook her head. “She’s got the day off.”
“And next week she starts working at the Aveline Café again,” added the other one helpfully.
Theresa blew out an annoyed breath. “Typical,” she muttered. “Is Sheldon here?”
“In his office,” the younger cashier said, rolling her eyes at the other one. Theresa narrowed her eyes at the young baby giraffe person.
When she reached Sheldon’s office door, she stood outside for a few moments, staring at him, words momentarily failing her.
He sat at his desk, looking over papers attached to a clipboard. He wore brown cords and leather suspenders over a well-fitted white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His black hair was messy and curly, and he was wearing Theresa’s favorite glasses—a round tortoiseshell pair Theresa had found for him at an estate sale. He took her breath away.
He saw Theresa and jumped up, a little too casually, as though he had been letting her look her fill.
“Reesey! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Her frown turned into a glare. He looked as beautiful as a beautiful man can look. And he was calling her Reesey again after sticking to Theresa since she had come to Aveline.
“Sheldon,” she said, “why are you interfering in my friendships?”
“Hmm, what? I don’t understand,” he said, and he breezed past her, out of the little room, and into the store. Theresa followed.
“You need to leave Daniel alone,” she said.
“Daniel? Why would I leave him alone? He’s my friend.”
They were nearing the front of the store. Sheldon turned back to face Theresa. Oh, her heart, that shirt. Theresa crossed her arms over her chest and refused to let her face relax out of a glare.
“You know what I mean.”
“Whose dog is that?” Sheldon asked, frowning at the floppy-eared, asymmetrical dog that waited outside for Theresa.
“He’s mine,” Theresa said. “And you have all the friends. Can’t you leave one for me?”
“What about Katie?” Sheldon asked.
“I don’t even know her!” Theresa wailed, and she pressed her palms to her eyes. “You know what, never mind. I need to pick up some supplies, and then I need to be far away from you because you make me furious.”
Sheldon shook his head, chuckling. “I wondered when your temper was going to come back out.”
Theresa grabbed a cart and marched away. “I’ll temper you, beast of the swamp,” she muttered.
“I’ll give your dog some water. It looks thirsty,” Sheldon called to her.
Theresa went to the dog food aisle first, grabbing the biggest bag she could find. The ribs on that dog were showing. Then she stopped dead in her tracks. Sheldon had black chalkboards scattered all over the store. Some had prices on them, some had vegetable puns. (Lettuce leave. Celery later.) And some had quotes or poems.
The one in front of her was a poem.
Somewhere I have never traveled
Gladly, beyond any remembrance
Your eyes, they soften me
Your slightest glance easily will unfold me…
e.e. cummings
That was it. The poem didn’t end there, Theresa knew, but it was all that was written on the board. Theresa did the rest of her shopping in a storm of rage. What right did Sheldon have to write their poetry on his chalkboards? What was his game?
She could barely admit to herself that part of her anger was at her own treacherous heart.
She had felt the old lift, the surge of happiness, at the sight of those words in that familiar handwriting. But Theresa could not go down that road. She simply could not.
Chapter Twelve
Theresa took her groceries home and ate a handful of almonds and an apple, two slices of cheese, and a bag of baby carrots. She was shaky from hunger and seething from her talk with Sheldon. When the food started to have an effect, and she felt better and calmer, Theresa unpacked her groceries and put them away. She poured food for the dog in one of her own clay bowls. He fell on the food ravenously, prompting a twinge of guilt because Theresa hadn’t
thought of feeding him sooner. The sound of the dog’s crunching gave her a good feeling, though.
Her anger had fizzled into a kind of blue haze that made her want to curl up on her bed and sleep forever. But Theresa had a lunch date with Sam, her mother, Katie, and Maddie, and today was the day that Maddie would come home to live with Theresa again. At first, Theresa had felt sad about Maddie staying with Lucy to housesit for Sam and Katie. She understood that it was important for her daughter to finish the time at her uncle and aunt’s house well, so Theresa wouldn’t have dreamed of protesting, but she had also come to appreciate having time and space for herself while she moved into the house.
She walked into Maddie’s new room, straightening the pillows on the bed and looking the room over. Everything was in place.
Theresa pulled the door tight behind her, reflecting that she needed to oil the lock, so she didn’t have to keep leaving her house open. Of course, the dog came with her when she left, his tail whipping back and forth as he gazed up at her. Theresa stood blinking at him for a few minutes before shrugging and heading down the street toward Katie’s house. Katie and Sam’s house, she reminded herself. It was Sam’s house, now, too.
When she got close, Theresa saw Dorothy, Sam, Katie, and Maddie sitting around a table on the porch of the Aveline Café. Her steps slowed. They looked so lovely sitting there together that Theresa felt equally a pang of longing to join them, and the urge to run away.
The restaurant was closed for Sam and Katie’s wedding and honeymoon break until next week, so only one table was set up, and no one else was there. Lucy would be back to manage the restaurant when it reopened, leaving Green’s for the time being. Theresa knew that Maddie worked at the Aveline Café too, sometimes. She knew that Maddie had stopped her compulsive stealing. She knew that the big dog bounding toward her was named Sirius. Besides that, Theresa felt as though she knew nothing. She didn’t know how to have this relationship with a daughter who was transformed after time living with Sam and Katie. She didn’t know how to be a sister, a sister-in-law, a daughter, or a friend.
She nearly turned around to walk quickly back home, but Sirius had discovered Theresa’s dog. While the dogs circled each other, sniffing, tails wagging like mad, Maddie spotted her mom and skipped down the steps, running toward her. Maddie hugged Theresa hard, and Reesey inhaled her daughter’s specific orange-vanilla scent, holding her close. Maddie’s steadiness in being Maddie, the way she had always been, her own particular self, nearly undid Theresa. She finally remembered to let go.
“You okay, Mom?” Maddie said. The worry in her voice made Theresa’s chin come up.
“Great,” she said lightly. “Our new house is wonderful. You’ll like it, I think.”
Maddie nodded, but Theresa saw her eyes drift back to the big Victorian.
Her life has changed there, came her therapist’s voice. She’ll be bonded to it, to them. You have to make that a safe thing for her to feel. It’s not about you.
Theresa swallowed a lump in her throat and said, “You can come back to Katie and Sam’s house to sleep over, you know. Anytime you want, as long as it’s okay with your uncle.”
Maddie smiled at her gratefully and then turned to look at the dogs, who were still greeting one another. Theresa’s dog stuck his butt in the air and wiggled his whole back end, then leaped forward and gave a sharp bark, tearing off like a wild thing. After a moment, Sirius followed.
“Whose dog is that?” Maddie asked.
“He’s mine, I think,” Theresa told her. “Ours.”
Maddie’s face opened with joy and disbelief.
“Really? How? I thought you didn’t want a dog.”
The dog came running back, and she knelt to greet him. He began washing her face enthusiastically with his tongue, his tail like a mini whirlwind.
“I didn’t want a dog. But I want this dog, and he doesn’t seem to have anyone. He needs a name.”
“Can we name him Remus?” Maddie asked, and Theresa grinned.
“Remus is perfect.”
Dorothy was coming down the walk, with Sam and Katie following together, so Theresa took a deep breath and braced herself for the hugs. She hugged her mother first.
“Hey, Mama,” she whispered.
“Hey you,” her mom said. “You ready for the interrogation?” Theresa’s eyes widened, and she stood back to look at Dorothy, wondering what she meant, but then Sam swooped in for a hug. His jacket smelled of warm sawdust, even after two weeks away from carpentry work. Theresa smiled at him, happy to see him glowing with love, then turned to Katie, who stood watching, biting her thumbnail.
“I want to apologize,” Katie said.
“Apologize?” Theresa asked, puzzled. “Whatever for?” You’ve practically been raising my daughter, she didn’t say.
“For making a big deal about…” she waved a hand around in the general vicinity of Theresa’s face…“you know.”
Theresa couldn’t think of what she meant. She looked at Sam for help.
“Sheldon told Katie that you don’t like it when people talk about how drop-dead gorgeous you are, like a model and a fashion star and an actress of olden days…” Dorothy elbowed him and he stopped.
“So anyway,” Katie said, shooting a glare at Sam. “I’m sorry. I was just so stunned, because you’re so beautiful, and I had never seen anyone who looked like you…”
“Katie,” Sam said. Katie lapsed into silence.
Theresa stared at the tall redhead in front of her. Theresa had thought she had picked out Katie’s type right when she first met her. She assumed her brother’s new wife was one of those happy, confident, effortless people who never worry, who glide through life, knowing exactly what to say. The kind of person who understands how and why things work. Theresa had been relatively positive that they wouldn’t get along. She was terrified of Katie’s type of person. But Katie had spent her whole honeymoon worrying that she had said the wrong thing to Theresa. Theresa suddenly understood why Sheldon and Daniel thought Katie and Theresa could be friends.
She hadn’t had a close woman friend since Sofía. It would be interesting to have a woman as a friend again. The mothers she had met at Maddie’s schools, over the years, were usually first intimidated by her looks, which was ridiculous, and then put off by her bluntness, which she couldn’t help. Men were easier, though it had been years since she had anyone she considered a true friend, she realized. The thought made her feel lonely.
“It’s okay,” she said to Katie now, surprised by the desire to make sure her new sister-in-law didn’t worry for even one second longer. “It happens a lot. Mom says people see me and just have to say something. I do the same thing, but with other, even more awkward topics, like the surprising amount of dust in a person’s living room.”
“It’s true,” Dorothy said agreeably. “She does. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to her face and it won’t look so perfect anymore. The rest of us have.”
Katie stared at them for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed. Sam joined in, and Theresa watched them and felt the loneliness inside her grow a few inches, but then Katie linked her arm into Theresa’s and walked toward the house with her.
“The food is getting cold, and I really want to feed you,” she said.
“That doesn’t sound terrible,” Theresa said, unexpectedly relaxing into the woman’s warmth. “I’m hungry.”
“Did you eat breakfast?” came a soft voice behind her, and Theresa turned to look at Maddie.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Theresa told her daughter. “I’m doing so much better, Maddie, and I want you to take a turn being the daughter. Then it will be easy for us to live together again.”
“But did you eat?”
“A little,” Theresa said. “I’m serious, though. It’s not your job to make sure I eat.”
Maddie gazed back at her. The two of them had a long road ahead. Theresa remembered the times she hadn’t been able to get out of bed for days a
fter a meltdown, and Maddie had brought her soup and tea and nagged at her to eat them. It was Theresa’s fault that Maddie thought she needed to be the responsible one. Theresa felt a hot wave of shame, but she blinked it away, leaning toward the feeling of being loved, another thing her therapist had taught her.
Katie pulled out a chair, and Theresa kissed her daughter gently on the cheek, then went and sat down, closing her eyes and imagining standing in a circle of light, seen by God. Everything he sees he loves. She touched the love and felt its warmth. When she opened her eyes, the others were seated, and all of them were staring at her. The dogs bounded up the steps, toenails clicking on the wooden floor, and flopped on the porch, tired out from play.
“I can tell you more about the last months while we eat if you have questions,” Theresa said.
Katie went to get the first course—a butternut squash soup that made Theresa sigh when she tasted it.
“You are an excellent cook,” she said. “No, not just excellent. Unbelievable.”
“Isn’t she?” Sam asked. His voice was rough. Theresa looked at him. “I guess I do have questions,” he said. “Or maybe just one. Why did you send Maddie to us without telling us what had been going on with her? Why did you put her on a bus? I know we talked about it when it happened, but I still don’t understand.”
Theresa let the feelings come. She picked up a warm piece of bread and smoothed butter onto it, then took a bite and chewed. She hardly ever ate bread, but this piece was perfect. She thought about what to say. How much to say. How much to leave out. She swallowed and took a breath.
“About two years ago, I found a therapist who was willing to help with my particular kind of disorder,” she said, glancing at her mother. “I told Mom at the time, but no one else, really. It was a steep and intense learning curve. I had to find ways to understand how I work and why I feel the way I feel. I was undoing years of self-hatred and unhelpful coping skills. At the same time, Maddie was there just trying to make sense of who we were and who we had been. Her questions started boiling over, her unease was apparent in school, in her stealing. It was a cry for attention, but I knew I wasn’t ready to give her what she needed. I wasn’t even ready to communicate what I needed. So I put her on that bus, trusting that you would step in and take care of her. And you did. But I am very sorry. If it helps at all, I would never do that now. I’m so much better now.”