by Rae Walsh
“Yes, she’s one of the three wise men,” Maddie said. “Katie, Lewis, a whole bunch of little kids, and Lucy. I think that’s it.”
Theresa was holding back tears. Panic was still imminent now that she had stumbled into the fearful place. “That sounds okay,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “A lot of those people have loved you for a long time. I’m sure you’ll be safe.”
The waiting area outside Faith’s office was minimalistic and soothing. Maddie had run straight into the room with Faith’s name on the door when they arrived, so Theresa settled herself in a comfy chair with her sketchbook, looking around. The office was located in an old house with wooden floors and framed paintings on the walls. No horrible carpet, no deathly fluorescent lights. There were dozens of potted plants, sofas, and chairs. That was about it. The wainscoted walls were cream and blue, and the sofas made of a dark weave, flecked with coral. Theresa picked up her pencil.
She wanted to make another sculpture series, but she’d been so distracted with the move that she hadn’t had time to decide what the series should be about. Her agent had been begging her for another show for months. But this new life was so complicated, with a lot to do and many different roles. Theresa was struggling to find her focus. She needed a central theme or idea that could take form in sculpture.
She started to sketch, drawing line after line, looking into her heart to see what she was feeling. The emotions she found were complicated, involving safety, love, and danger. Home.
She looked up, startled, as a voice finally broke through to her. Maddie and Faith stood in front of her. Faith smiling, Maddie scowling.
“Mom,” Maddie said. “We called you seventeen times.”
Faith turned to look at Maddie. “Three,” Maddie corrected quickly. “We called you three times.”
“’Thank you, Maddie,” Faith said. “That’s enough.”
Theresa quickly jammed her sketchbook in her bag and stood. Faith gave her a firm hug.
“Thanks so much for your help with Maddie,” Theresa said. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.” She stepped back to take a look at her old friend. Faith was tall and long-limbed, with dark brown skin and a short natural haircut, a little like her mother’s but cut asymmetrically. She wore long silver earrings and had a septum ring.
“Oh!” Theresa said. “You’re so beautiful.”
Faith smiled. “I guess you haven’t seen me since before high school,” she said.
Theresa nodded. “I think I left when you were still in middle school,” she said.
“I was sad to hear I missed you at women’s circle the other week,” Faith said. “I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to go.” She turned to Maddie. “Did you know your mom used to babysit me?” she asked.
“What?” Maddie asked, looking shocked.
“It wasn’t really babysitting,” Theresa said, grinning. “Faith was in charge. You dragged me around by the hand, asking me to draw things for you.”
“I remember that you seemed magical,” Faith said. “You could draw anything I wanted.”
“That’s so funny. At the time, I was still harboring the delusion that I was going to have a career in science,” Theresa said. She paused, looking closely at Faith. “How are you?” she asked.
A shadow crossed Faith’s face. “Can you come in and talk for a few minutes before you go?” she asked.
Theresa fought down a wriggly feeling of panic at the thought of being in an enclosed space with such an aware human being. Secrets never seemed safe around people who could look into your soul. Don’t be silly, Reesey, she told herself. It’s just Faith, little Faith with braces, and the addiction to mint chocolate chip ice cream. She’s all grown up, but she can’t read minds.
“Sure,” Theresa said.
She walked into Faith’s office, which was furnished in the same spacious, light way as the waiting room. Theresa settled into an armchair, and Faith sat across from her.
“The anniversary is soon, isn’t it?” Theresa asked.
Faith ran her hand over her face.
“Yes. It hurts every year.” Faith had lost her brother when she was twelve. “My mom has been attending a lot of protests lately,” she said. “I go with her sometimes. It gives us a way to work through our grief.”
Theresa nodded.
“Do you think the protests will accomplish something?”
“They have to! People are so much more aware than they used to be. I can’t even think of what we’ll do if they don’t work. It’s good that my mom is going—she has a lot to say, and she’s very gifted at speaking. But I’m afraid something will happen to her. And then what would become of my father? Haven’t we paid enough?”
Theresa leaned across the small table between them and grasped Faith’s hand. Faith squeezed Theresa’s hand for a moment, taking deep breaths. Then she looked up.
“That’s not why I wanted to talk to you,” she said.
Theresa sat back.
“Maddie is doing really well,” Faith said. “There were some things she brought up today, though…” she leaned forward. “You have an autism diagnosis?”
Theresa nodded, and Faith smiled. “That must be a relief,” she said. Theresa felt a piece of her heart soften and relax. She was so used to defending her diagnosis.
“It is,” she said. “You knew me when I was younger. Does it make sense to you?”
“It doesn’t have to,” Faith said. “And it’s not my specialty, but… yes. Are you seeing someone? Will you have any help as you go on this journey with Maddie? She’s a bit angry about it.”
“What else is new?” Theresa asked. “But she has a right to be angry.” They smiled at each other. “Yes, I’m continuing with my therapist online,” Theresa said. “It’s going well. But I’m tired. Everyone reacted in strange ways when I told them. I couldn’t have predicted that.”
Faith shifted in her seat. “She’s also pretty obsessed with her father.”
Theresa sat back. “I can’t tell her who her father is.”
Faith played with her hands. After a moment, she spoke again, meeting Theresa’s eyes straight on.
“Reesey, I know you. The autism diagnosis makes sense to me, but some of the things Maddie has told me are only possible with considerable trauma. What happened before you left? Why did you run?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Panic. Theresa felt her throat closing and bent half over, trying to breathe. Faith got up and came back quickly with a glass of cold water, handing it to Theresa. Theresa took it and drank, trying to steady herself, breathing slowly. After a while, her throat felt less tight. When she was able to open her eyes, she found that she was still in the chair, rocking slightly back and forth, rubbing her hands over her knees. Faith sat in the opposite chair, watching Theresa with concern in her eyes.
“I can’t tell her,” Theresa whispered. “I can’t tell anyone. It…unravels me. Let’s just say that for a long time, it was easy to take advantage of me. I’m working on that.”
“Oh, Reesey.” Faith’s eyes were somber. “Someday you’re going to have to reach into the past and deal with this. It will eat at you if you don’t.”
“I can’t,” Theresa said. “It’s impossible. It’s better, far better, for Maddie not to know who her father is. He’s…not a nice person.” Red flashed before her eyes for a moment, and she pressed her palms to her cheekbones, trying her hardest to remain here, where she was safe.
After a few minutes, she took another sip of water, then put the glass carefully on the table beside her. She stood on shaky legs. Faith stood as well, and they looked at each other.
“I’m happy for you,” Theresa told Faith. “Look at you. I know I’m only a decade older than you, but I feel proud of my friend, like an old auntie.”
Faith laughed. “I’m happy for you, too. My artist babysitter is famous.”
Theresa flushed. “Not famous.”
“Close enough. I read the New York Times.”
Famous, Theresa thought, after she gave Faith a hug and left with Maddie. Fame meant that anyone could follow her, read about her, know about her. Her heart sped up again. She had been an idiot to think she could move back here. That she would be safe. That anyone was safe anywhere.
Her hands shook on the wheel.
“Where now?” Maddie asked. Theresa looked at her, a little surprised to find that her daughter was in the car with her. She had been lost in her own world. Pull it together, Reesey, she thought.
“We need to eat lunch,” she said. “Then off to the garden shop.”
“Here? Not at Sam’s?” Maddie asked. “Does he know how unloyal you are?”
“Disloyal,” Theresa murmured. “And he doesn’t have the plants I want. Have you ever been to the nursery in Billers?”
“No,” Maddie said.
“Well, you’re in for a treat. But first, you need the best Mexican food in the world.”
As soon as she walked into the taqueria, Theresa stopped short, and Maddie bumped into her. The taqueria was like a time machine, the smells, sounds, and decor identical to the day Theresa had last seen the small restaurant.
“Mom!”
“Sorry,” Theresa murmured, forcing her legs to move as she walked to a booth. She looked at the familiar green and red salsa bottles, the plastic bananas hanging from the ceiling, the black and white photos of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. She was still shaky after her talk with Faith, but this place calmed her.
“Are you ready?” she asked Maddie.
“Ready for what?”
“You’ve never tasted anything this good, I can promise you that.”
The woman who bustled over to their table carried menus, but Theresa knew what she wanted, so she barely glanced at them. She looked closely at the woman. She had white streaks in her hair now, but Maria hadn’t changed much beyond that.
“Tia, por favor,” she started, and the woman looked at her, startled.
“¡Ay! ¡Mija, Dios Mia! Look at you! Has Sofía seen you?”
“Not yet, no. Is she here?”
“No, of course not, she works at the National Forest office.”
“Oh, well, then. I can go to the Forest office to see her sometime.”
Maria frowned. “She missed you, Mija. You never came to visit.”
Theresa flinched. “I didn’t come back to visit anyone. I’m sorry.”
Maria nodded, her face smoothing out. “Well, we all have our reasons for things.”
“This is my daughter. Do you remember Maddie?”
“Do I remember Maddie?”
Theresa grinned. “Sorry, of course you do.”
“Oh,” Maddie said. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”
“You were very small when we came here. Maria’s daughter Sofía and I were best college friends,” Theresa said. “She decided to be a park ranger, and I became an artist.”
“And a mamá,” Maria said.
“And a mother,” Theresa agreed. “Maria used to babysit you sometimes, Little. When Sofía and I went out.”
Maddie sat back in her seat, looking around the taqueria. “That’s why,” she said. “I felt like I was walking into something I had dreamed of.” She looked at Maria. “Did we…cook together here?”
“We did. We made churros, and you used to stuff them into your cheeks like a little ardilla, a squirrel.”
Maddie and Maria smiled at each other, and Theresa felt a familiar twinge of guilt. She had taken Maddie away from so many people who loved her.
Maria switched her intense gaze to Theresa. “Sofîa worried about why you left. She thought you might be in danger.”
Theresa felt a flash of alarm. Maddie was listening to this. “No!” she said. “Just needed a change, that’s all.” She changed the subject. “We’re starving, Tia. Can we get the sopa, four carne asada tacos, and a side of rice?”
Maria regarded her for a few heartbeats, then nodded and bent to kiss Theresa on the top of the head. “Of course. But I will add an order of empanadas because you are so skinny you look like you will blow away. If you need anything, you come and talk to me, and you don’t ever run away again. Sofía will be very happy to know that you are back.”
Theresa wasn’t so sure. She had missed a lot of her friend’s life. But Sofía knew better than almost anyone why Theresa had to leave. Maybe she would understand why it had taken her so long to come back.
The drive home was quiet, possibly because they were digesting the enormous amount of food they had consumed, but Theresa thought they were probably just all talked out. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore, but she was thinking about the red words. They flashed into her brain at all times. Even the fact that the back of the car was filled to overflowing with plants couldn’t lift Theresa’s spirits.
She dropped Maddie off at home and drove straight to Green’s to talk to Sheldon.
Theresa strode into the store, finding it surprisingly full, with Sheldon nowhere to be seen. Raj, the new manager, smiled at her.
“Can I help you with anything?” he asked.
“No, I’m just doing some shopping,” she replied. “Why is it so busy today?”
Raj shrugged. “Everyone getting ready for the holidays, maybe?” Theresa stared at him. “Yes, maybe you’re right,” she said. She picked up a basket, knowing that if she stormed straight into Sheldon’s office, the store would be all ears. So Theresa wandered down aisles, picking up a few things that she needed here and there until she came to one of the chalkboards.
At the slightest touch, you easily will unfold me, it read.
Theresa sighed, feeling two things simultaneously: One, a rush of longing from her head to her toes, and two, frustration that Sheldon still didn’t get it. What was wrong with him?
She found him in his office. He was wearing the devastating white shirt, two top buttons undone. His hair was all mussed, and he had the tortoiseshell glasses on. She stared, and even knowing she was staring, she couldn’t pull her eyes away from him, not even when he looked up and saw her there.
“Reesey?” he asked.
She dragged her eyes away from his shoulders and up to his eyes.
“Tazzy, this has to stop,” she said.
“What has to stop?” he asked.
“You know! Don’t act like you don’t know! The signs, the poetry. I know what you’re doing.”
He smiled into her face, lines radiating out from the sides of his eyes. He wasn’t listening to her.
“It’s dangerous,” she said. “Trust me.”
His smile disappeared, and he took a step toward her.
“What do you mean, it’s dangerous?” he asked. “Theresa, you need…”
“No. I can take care of myself,” she said, stepping back as he reached for her. She felt a familiar rush of panic, like hot water filling her from head to toe. “You’re not listening. You did this last time, Sheldon. You thought you could fix me, thought you could fix everything. But you can’t. No one can, but especially not you.”
He stood there looking at her, hands clenching and unclenching. His face was grave, and he was breathing quickly.
“Theresa, you tried to take care of it yourself, and it didn’t work. Why do you think you can now? What about Maddie? We all care about her!”
“And now you want to put her in the play,” Theresa said, trembling.
Sheldon frowned, looking confused. “She shouldn’t be in the play? Reesey, what are you talking about? How could the play be dangerous?”
“You ask that because you don’t know about the eyes,” Theresa said. She realized she wasn’t making sense and that she was rocking back and forth slightly. She needed to get out of here before she melted down completely.
“Maddie shouldn’t be in the play because of eyes?” Sheldon asked. “What are you saying? Explain it to me.”
“Yes, no. She can be in the play if she really wants to, I don’t know. Just the fact that it’s so simple for you shows that
you don’t understand. You thought you could do this last time, thought you could be her father. But you can’t, because she has…” her voice was rising.
People were passing, glancing into the open door of the office. Theresa felt pressure like a hard hand squeezing her heart. It was getting hard to breathe again. Sheldon reached out to grab her, but Theresa evaded him and slipped out of the office, dropping her basket and running through the store, until she was out in the cold air, running, slipping, and running, all the way home. She didn’t stop until she was under her blankets, in the dark, away from all the eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next morning, Sheldon went through the motions of checking stock, but his head was foggy, and he was barely able to pull his thoughts together. He had not been able to stop thinking about his conversation with Theresa. What was she talking about? What did she mean—all the eyes?
He tapped his fingers on the shelf he was inspecting—beans and sauces—and bent closer to squint at a label. Was it too hard to love Theresa? Sheldon had decided to try one more time to win Reesey over and, in the meantime, to be an excellent friend. It wasn't that difficult to write poems on chalkboards or to read to Reesey while she worked on pottery.
The hard parts were the leaps of hope, the little skips in his heartbeat. He slept or did not sleep based on whether the day ended on a good note. He hadn't slept last night, so the morning wasn't going so well. His eyes felt like beds of fresh gravel. You tried to do this last time, Theresa had said. That hurt. Thought you could fix everything. Well, who wouldn't want to help Theresa Lily Grant?
His desire to help was not the problem—the terror she felt, the danger she mentioned, that was the problem! And Sheldon still didn't know what the threat was, because Reesey wouldn't tell him! Besides all that…Sheldon didn't want to fix her. He liked Theresa the way she was, and he wasn't the only one—if only she would notice—
"Sheldon?"
Sheldon jumped nearly out of his skin. Raj was directly behind his left shoulder.
"Are you having trouble reading that?" Raj asked. "You've been staring at it for five minutes."