by Rae Walsh
"Sheldon, stop harassing our brother about Theresa," Francisco said. He was laughing slightly, but Sheldon knew Frankie well enough to hear the rebuke under his light tone.
Sheldon shifted in his chair, realization dawning on him. The purpose of this circle was hearing each other, challenging each other, and also to be a safe space. And yet Sheldon had spent the last two backyard nights quizzing Daniel, who was new, on his relationship with Theresa.
He looked at Daniel, and this time, he saw his old friend, not only the man who laughed so easily with Theresa. Daniel's lips were pressed into a thin line, his arms crossed over his chest. His shoulders looked tense.
"I'm sorry, Danny," Sheldon said. "The reverend is right. I'm hassling you. I don't know why I'm so insecure."
"That's easy enough to answer," Daniel said, shifting forward in his seat, his shoulders dropping a little. "You love her."
He did. Sheldon loved Reesey madly. And he didn't know how she felt, so he felt as though he was standing on shifting gravel.
"This is a change of subject," George said, after a moment, "but has any of that old nonsense come up since the graffiti, Daniel?"
Daniel rubbed his hands on his jeans. A few breaths passed before he nodded.
Sam shot Sheldon a look that Sheldon read easily as reproachful, then Sam leaned forward to put a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.
Daniel darted his eyes toward Sam, then Sheldon, then back down at the fire.
"I got a few letters, that's all."
"By letters, do you mean hate mail?" Francisco asked.
Daniel nodded, eyes still on the fire.
Something changed in Sheldon at that moment. He saw Theresa's approach toward Daniel in a different light, as though illuminated by the years of misunderstanding toward him in this town. She worried about him, the way the two of them used to when they had seen that no one really understood him. Theresa had never doubted Daniel, even when people thought he was clearly guilty of robbery and vandalism.
Sheldon had wondered how she could be so sure, but she always said Daniel would never do a thing to hurt another being. Theresa was still looking out for Daniel, even though Sheldon had stopped. The way Theresa loved others was one of the best things about her, and Sheldon wouldn't change it for anything. He made up his mind to rid himself of jealousy. It was like a sick, tired weed. He needed to pull it out as enthusiastically as Theresa weeded her garden, in great spiky handfuls.
As the men turned to pray for Daniel, Sheldon prayed as well, inwardly confessing that the weed of jealousy was overtaking him, and asking for help. He left Francisco's back yard late that night, his heart lighter and already turning back toward his old friend with affection.
The next morning, he was stacking apples at Green's when Sam and Theresa turned up together.
He looked up from his pile of apples and couldn't hold in a huge smile at the sight of Reesey. She squinted up at him.
"Why are you so happy?" she asked.
"I'm wearing my red glasses," he told her. "I'm always happy when I'm wearing my red glasses."
She crossed her arms and stared at him for a few more seconds. "Do you wear them because you're happy?" she asked, "or do you feel happy after they're already on? Because if it's the second, you should just wear them every day. I mean, why wouldn't you?"
Sam groaned and shook his head. "You two deserve each other," he said. "Can we please ask our question and get on with the day? I have stuff to do."
Sam's request seemed to surprise Theresa, but she nodded. Sheldon could barely tear his eyes away from her. She wore a bright red collared dress over a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black and white striped tights. Her hair fell in a long braid down her back, and she had placed a red hibiscus flower behind her ear. Her cheeks were flushed. She looked like a queen.
"Sheldon!" Sam said. "Are you paying attention?"
Sheldon pulled himself back. "What?"
Sam threw his hands in the air. "You try," he said to Theresa. "This man is smitten and has apparently learned to tune out the sound of my voice."
Sheldon smiled at that. "Of course I have. Haven't you, Reesey? It's a survival technique."
Theresa laughed. "Everyone needs it. Let's teach Katie. Tazzy, we came to ask if you could help with my studio design. We need your expertise."
Sheldon put a hand to his chest. "Moi?" he asked.
"You," Theresa said. "You're so good with light and space. Sam's okay, too"—Sam elbowed her— "but we want your opinion."
"I would love to help. When do we start?"
"Right now?"
"How about tomorrow? I need to make sure Raj is up to the task of handling the store by himself. One more day should be sufficient."
Reesey smiled in response, but before Sheldon could lose himself staring at her again, she turned and walked away. Sam cocked one eyebrow and shook his head slowly at Sheldon before he followed his sister out of the store.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sheldon walked to Theresa’s house under the oak trees the next morning, wearing his bowler hat and his red-framed glasses. He was happy. The sun was shining in a sudden burst of warm weather, birds were singing, and Sheldon was falling back into an old friendship. Over the last days, he had been feeling more free when he thought about Daniel, too. He had even spotted Theresa and Daniel talking on the street and hadn’t felt the familiar stab of anguish. Sheldon liked his brain better when it wasn’t tortured by jealousy.
At Theresa’s house, he found Maddie sitting on the front step with a cup of tea in her hands. She wore purple pajamas and an irritated expression on her face.
“What’s up with you?” he asked.
“Morning is offensive,” she replied. But then she brushed her hair out of her eyes and smiled at him. “I like the feathers in your hat,” she said. “And your suspenders.”
“Thank you,” he said. “They’re bluebird feathers. My friend found them in the forest a long time ago.”
“Well, they’re very nice.”
He sat down on the step beside her. She was growing, he realized, looking at her long arms and legs stretching across the porch. And she wasn’t dressing as a Goth these days. Sheldon was all about a good Goth phase, but Maddie’s had included stealing and a lot of self-hatred, so he wasn’t sad to see her branching out. She still didn’t wear many colors, so these purple pajamas were a revelation.
“You’re stretching,” he commented.
“I know,” she said, with satisfaction in her voice. “I’m a late bloomer, I guess. We have to go buy new pants for me because they’re all like an inch too short.”
“Who would have guessed?” he said. “You’re taller than your mom?”
“Three inches now.” She lapsed into silence, holding her face over her cup and staring at a potted cactus. Sheldon knew what she was going to say before she said it.
“Do you know who my dad is, Sheldon?” Maddie glanced behind her as she whispered as if to see whether Theresa was standing over their shoulders.
I wanted to be your dad, Sheldon thought. But he smiled at her. Her elfin face was so much like Theresa’s. Sheldon had searched her face over the years to see whether he see Maddie’s father in the shape of her bones, but she simply looked like Theresa. This height could be an indicator. But still, all they would know was that Maddie’s father was white and most likely tall. Or at least taller than Theresa.
“No,” he said. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”
Sam came through the gate then, bounding up the steps. He stopped when he saw the two of them sitting side by side in the surprising sunshine.
“My two favorite people,” he said, grinning. Then the smile slid off his face, and he frowned. “What are you doing sitting around? Back to work!”
“You’re not the boss of me anymore,” Maddie joked in a mock grumble, poking Sam in the ribs. When she stood and offered Sheldon a hand, though, he saw sadness in the shadows of her face.
&n
bsp; Theresa had always insisted that Maddie was better off not knowing who her father was, but Sheldon wasn’t so sure. Inside the house, Reesey sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by pieces of paper, her computer, and a few swatches of fabric. She looked up.
“Maddie! What on earth? Clothes on, kid, you’re going to be late!”
Maddie sped off to get dressed, and Sheldon and Sam joined Theresa at the table. Sheldon picked up a few pieces of paper and looked over them. They were sketches of ideas, as well as a few printed pictures that Reesey must have found on the Internet.
“I’m hoping for light and breezy,” she said, “with an old feel. Old barn, not old Tuscan or anything horrifying like that.” Sheldon grinned at her. They shared a horror for the craze of cluttery fake Tuscan decoration. “But the tricky part is that it should function as a studio space, while still being visible from the front of the shop. So all the messy cluttery bits could be right out there in an ugly way if we don’t figure out how to make it beautiful.”
“That’s no big deal. You’re talking to someone who runs a grocery store,” Sheldon said, puffing out his chest. “I understand clutter.”
He placed a blank piece of paper in front of him and picked up a pencil, starting to sketch. Sam looked over his shoulder, muttering suggestions. “Nope, that wall is a structural impossibility- put it over here.”
Maddie rushed out of her room and went flying down the front steps. Theresa got up to hug her goodbye and give her the lunch she had forgotten. “Don’t forget you have an appointment with Faith today,” she called. “Katie will drive you after school.”
“She’s still seeing Faith?” Sam asked, when Theresa came back, looking slightly lost. Her expression pulled on Sheldon’s heart, but he tried to ignore it. He couldn’t jump up every time Theresa looked sad. That would be odd.
Theresa nodded. “Maddie loves Faith, and I think therapy is helping a lot.”
The morning went by quickly. They drank coffee and sketched and talked. They looked at color palettes and photos of studios. Sheldon felt contentment that he had missed for years. He was talking design with two of his favorite people in the world, all of them sitting around the table, heads together, deep in the process. There was nothing better than this. Add the butterflies that took flight in his stomach every time Reesey met his eyes, and it made for an invigorating morning. They finished with a plan that Sam promised to sketch up on his computer.
“I’ve started making pots already,” Theresa told Sheldon as he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to wash the coffee cups. He ran the water, raising his eyebrows, impressed.
“You set your wheel up?”
“Yes. I put it on the veranda out back.”
“It’s not getting wet in the rain?” There had been a few stormy nights before this shift into sunshine. The rain was a relief because Aveline badly needed it, but Sheldon thought it might be dangerous to trust the elements and keep the wheel outside.
Theresa shrugged. “The veranda is covered, and it’s been okay so far,” she said. “I have a shelf for drying pots in the laundry room. Come, I’ll show you.”
Sheldon followed her out to the porch. Reesey’s pottery wheel and an old, paint-splattered chair were under one corner of the little covered area. A bright sheet stretched across the open side, forming a quiet, secluded place for her to work. She had set a metal table against the house, and Sheldon could see she’d been wedging clay. Reesey sat down now, apparently without thought, as though she couldn’t help herself. She grabbed a chunk of clay and a bucket of slip and turned the wheel on. Sheldon watched, bemused, as Reesey began to center the mound of clay, oblivious to the fact that she was splattering her dress. He looked around for a chair and found one in the kitchen, dragging it out to the porch, and sitting down to watch. Theresa glanced up.
“You need a handmade mug, I think, Tazzy,” she said.
“I’m sure I do.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed a few words in, scrolling until he found what he was looking for.
“And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?” he read.
Theresa glanced up. He smiled at her and kept reading.
“I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.”
She smiled at him, sitting back to admire her work. A large chunky mug sat on the wheel.
“I remember,” she said. “You used to read me poems while I painted.”
“I did.”
“Who wrote that one?”
“Raymond Carver. It’s called Late Fragment. I think it’s a perfect poem.” He sighed. “I thought I would be a poet, but I turned out to be a gentleman grocer.”
She laughed, using a piece of string to cut the pot away from the wheel and standing to reach a piece of cardboard. She carefully set the cup on the board and put the whole thing on the metal table.
She looked around. “You see why I need shelves,” she said. “What do you think? Handle? No handle?”
“No handle,” he said. “I need something to warm my lonely hands.”
She gave him a skeptical, ‘I know what you’re trying to pull,’ look, but couldn’t keep herself from smiling.
Over the next weeks, Sheldon started to visit more frequently, often reading to Theresa as she worked on pots. The rhythm behind the words that Sheldon read was the sounds of hammering and sawing from Sam in Theresa’s studio. Every day, Sam made progress, and their merged visions began to take form. Sheldon should have been mistrustful of this much happiness, but he accepted it all without question, as though he had never learned a thing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Over the weeks that followed, Theresa started to adjust to the feeling of being at home in Aveline, as she slipped into a comfortable rhythm. Sam helped her score a good deal on a car, which meant that she and Maddie were able to explore the other side of the lake on weekends, walking the shores with Remus and a camera. Today was the first day Theresa would drive Maddie to her appointment with Faith in Billers, instead of Katie. Theresa couldn’t tell whether Maddie was happy about this or not, but it was one more step toward their new life together.
The car was an old hatchback—something Theresa could lug pottery around in, if she wanted to, but not so big that it was hard to park. She had already fallen in love with it.
While they drove to Billers, Maddie slouched in the passenger seat, gazing out the window or fiddling with the stereo system.
“How has therapy been going for you?” Theresa asked.
“Good,” Maddie said.
“Good. Anything more than that?”
The road curved through the mountains. Theresa kept her eyes on the curves, drinking in the sunshine that filtered through the trees.
“I don’t know. We talk about a lot of stuff.” Maddie shifted in her seat. “Can we talk about the play now? You said we could once we were driving.”
Reesey let out a long breath. She counted to ten three times. “Sure,” she said.
Maddie had asked her about the play over breakfast, but Theresa was so focused on getting out the door in time that she hadn’t been able to hear anything Maddie was saying, and she asked her to wait.
“Sheldon wants me to be Maria,” Maddie said. “He says I should audition, but I need to make sure it’s okay with you.”
“Sheldon wrote the play?”
“I think so,” Maddie said. “But, Mom, why is this something we need to discuss? What possible reason could there be for me not being in the church play? It’s the safest thing a teenager could do!”
Theresa’s hands flexed on the wheel. She forced herself to breathe, to drive slowly, to resist the rising panic. Of course, Maddie couldn’t understand. She didn’t know anything about the unfriendly eyes.
“Who is playing José?” she asked. If only it were someone safe, that would mean a lot.
“Lewis,” Maddi
e said. “Sheldon says Joseph would have been a lot older than Mary.”
Theresa relaxed a bit. She had met Lewis a few times at Green’s, and he seemed like a kind, safe person. He was not the menace in the forest.
“And who else is in the play?” she asked.
Maddie stared at her. “George, Ingrid,” she counted off, then trailed off. “Is this really necessary?” she asked. Her voice was like ice. “Do you remember how you put me on a bus by myself to cross the country and live with Grandma without even checking with her first? And then she and Sam argued back and forth about who had to take me? Do you remember that?” Maddie’s voice broke, and she turned to the window and pressed her face against it.
Theresa pulled the car over to the side of the road and tugged on Maddie’s jacket. Maddie resisted at first, but then she collapsed into Theresa’s arms.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Theresa said. “You’re right. That was a horrible thing for you to go through. But I’m trying to do better now.” She gazed out at the manzanita trees beside the car, and the tall firs behind them, thinking about how much to tell Maddie. What was the proper mix of innocence and reality?
“There was this graffiti…” Theresa started. Maddie looked up.
“I know. The kids at school told me about it. One had pictures.”
“Well, knowing we have someone so hateful in town makes me worry about you. If you can just tell me who is in the play, I’ll know whether I can relax.”
“Do you know who did it?” Maddie was looking at her with a puzzled expression.
“I just want to know if I consider the people safe.”
“Okay,” Maddie said. She started counting on her fingers, and Theresa pulled back onto the road. It was good that they had left early for the appointment because they had taken up a lot of time on the shoulder. Under the tall, tall trees. “Sheldon is the director, George, Lewis, Katie, Ingrid, Grandma…”
“Grandma?” Theresa broke in.