by Ellery Adams
Putting his hand on the small of Nora’s back, he propelled her forward.
When Nora saw what Jed had done to his living room, all thoughts of the inn and Rose Lattimer vanished. Jed had re-created the scene from Curious George down to the last detail. He’d transformed two drop cloths into yellow leopards and draped the cloths over a pair of chairs. The red-and-white giraffe had been fashioned from a stepstool, a sheet, and a broom. A rocking chair covered with another drop cloth was now a zebra. Painted palm trees grew up the walls, and Curious George climbed a tree near the window.
Jed bowed like a courtier. “Madame, would you like to sit on a leopard or a zebra?”
Nora couldn’t believe her eyes. “This is so . . . I can’t . . . won’t you get in trouble for this?”
“Ah, I’ll paint over it. My landlord will never know. Or, if you’d like, I could make a scene with that bear you liked so much when you were a kid. The one who lost his button.”
“Corduroy,” Nora said, and shook her head in astonishment. “You did this for me?”
Jed slipped an arm around her waist and murmured, “We always hang out at your place. You’re always cooking for me. When I stay over, you make me the perfect cup of coffee the next morning. Your sheets smell like sunshine and lemons. Your towels are always folded. You never run out of toothpaste. You have fresh fruit on the counter. For once, I wanted you to come to my place and feel as comfortable as I do at yours.” He gazed around the room. “I figured that something out of a book would make you feel at home.”
Taking Nora’s hand, Jed led her to one of the leopard chairs. She sat down and took a sip of beer. The tension knotting the muscles of her back eased. In this colorful, crazy space, she could completely focus on Jed. She could drink, eat grocery store fried chicken, comment on Jed’s work stories, and laugh.
After dinner, Jed produced two cupcakes from the Gingerbread House—double chocolate for him and strawberries and cream for her—and challenged Nora to a game of Life. She hadn’t played the board game since she was in junior high, but she remembered it well.
“I’m so going to beat you to Millionaire Mansion,” she said, holding up her game piece, which was a blue car.
“Hmm. How could we make this a little more interesting?” Jed rubbed his chin in mock concentration. “I know. Every time one of us spins a six, we both have to take off a piece of clothing.”
Nora grinned. “You’re on. And if I get cold, I can strip the sheet off the giraffe.”
“Poor giraffe.” Jed put a hand over his heart as if Nora had wounded him. He then covered the giraffe’s broom head with a paper towel. “I don’t want him checking you out. Because I have to tell you, my beautiful book goddess, that I’m going to spin a shitload of sixes. Prepare to get naked.”
Jed wasn’t kidding. He spun a six every time. By the time Nora’s game piece had reached the STOP sign indicating marriage, she was already without socks, shoes, or a top.
“It doesn’t matter who gets here first,” Jed said, pointing at the plastic mansion at the end of the road. “I win either way. Because I get to look at you. I get to see your bare skin. I get to watch your beautiful body move. And here’s the best part. The whole time we’re playing, I get to imagine what will happen after this game is over.”
They didn’t make it to the end. They never saw who would become a millionaire and who would have a less comfortable retirement. After Nora added another boy peg to her plastic car, Jed spun yet another six.
He pulled off his shirt with exaggerated slowness, and Nora held his eyes while slowly removing her bra. She dropped it on the floor and watched Jed stare at her body, his eyes dark with hunger. Their ocean blue had become the gray blue of a stormy sea, and when he reached for his game piece, he kept his gaze on Nora’s face.
“I think you should make a different move,” Nora said. When his brow furrowed in puzzlement, she grabbed his hand and pressed it over her left breast.
He let out a low moan as his fingers danced over her skin, raising goose bumps. Nora held his stare, letting him see how much she wanted him. The more Jed touched her, the warmer the room got. Nora’s heartbeat quickened. Her skin was flushed with heat. She felt like she might burn Jed with her touch. She arched her back, inviting him to come closer, to take control of her body with his hands and his mouth.
Jed read her unspoken invitation and let out soft groan. The gameboard sat between them, but he swept it out of the way. On his hands and knees, he crossed the rug and grabbed Nora by the waist, roughly pulling her into his bare chest. She felt his muscles rippling under the skin, the drumming of his heart. She wanted to sink into him—for the two of them to melt together like two lit candles.
His mouth found hers. His hands were everywhere. Nora closed her eyes and stopped thinking. She was dying to lose herself in this moment.
There, in Jed’s living room of painted palm trees and a rocking chair zebra, she surrendered to the fire that Jed’s body ignited in her. She pulled him down on top of her, closed her eyes, and welcomed the burn.
* * *
Nora didn’t sleep over. Jed tried to convince her to stay, but she didn’t want to spend the night on his air mattress. She’d done it before, and her middle-aged body had ached for hours afterward. Jed teased her for being soft, but he didn’t mean it.
It was after midnight when Nora put her clothes on and gave Jed a long kiss good night. He wanted to drive her home, but she said that she’d be perfectly safe on her moped.
The next morning, she slept in. When she finally shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee, her eyes landed on Danny’s bowl. It was Sunday, which normally meant a long hike followed by flea markets and garage sales, but she had something more important to do. She was going to see Marie Amo-adawehi.
Nora found Marie’s address online and plugged it into her phone. Then, she stood in her kitchen and wondered what Marie needed most right now. In the end, Nora decided that the kindness tote the Secret, Book, and Scone Society had prepared would have to be enough.
It was a liberating feeling to put the tote bag in the moped’s rear cargo basket and drive west. The morning sunshine burnished the hillsides a greenish gold and there was very little traffic. When a car came up behind Nora, she moved over to the shoulder to let it pass. She was in no hurry, and the closer she got to Danny and Marie’s house, the more she doubted her decision to visit a woman she didn’t know.
Danny hadn’t been kidding when he said that he and his wife lived on the side of a mountain. Their small, cream-colored house was very isolated. Trees surrounded it on three sides and a deck jutted out over more trees in the back, making it seem like the branches were within reach.
Nora stood in the driveway for a moment, taking in the scenery. Unlike the woods near her house, this forest was preternaturally quiet. She heard no birdsong or squirrel chatter. There was only the occasional crack, as if the ancient trees were communicating with one another in a language Nora couldn’t understand. Overhead, a solitary hawk wheeled in the empty sky.
When Nora glanced back at the house, Marie was standing in the doorway.
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” Nora called out. She held up the tote bag. “I came to give you this.”
Marie didn’t respond. She didn’t smile or invite Nora in. It was as if she didn’t have the energy for words. She turned and went back inside, leaving the door open behind her.
Nora followed, feeling more than a little nervous.
What would she find inside the house? Would the spaces be permeated with an atmosphere of loss? Would she say the wrong thing to Marie? Would Marie refuse to speak to her at all?
Taking a deep breath, Nora mounted the steps and entered the house.
The first thing she noticed was the light. Because of the surrounding trees, she’d expected dim rooms with shadowy corners. But as she moved into the great room that served as kitchen, dining, and living room, she was struck by the brightness of the space. A bank of windows marche
d across the entire rear wall, and through them the mountains spread out like a green sea. Sunbeams cascaded into the room, gilding the furniture and area rugs.
“How beautiful,” Nora whispered.
“Danny’s idea of heaven,” Marie rasped. Nora wondered how long it had been since Marie had spoken out loud. “When we bought this place, it was a run-down vacation cabin. Barely more than a shack. They’re everywhere here. You can buy one for a song. But it takes more than money or hard work to turn a house into a home. Only love can do that.”
Nora put the bag on the kitchen counter and hesitated. She didn’t feel like she could join Marie on the sofa without being asked.
“I wish there was a book that taught people what to say when another person’s world has been turned upside-down,” she said. “All I can think of is that I’m sorry that your husband was taken from you. I’m sorry he’s gone.”
Marie had been staring out the window. Now, she looked at Nora. “I wasn’t ready. I’d never really be ready. But if we were old, I would have expected it. I don’t how to live without him. I don’t know who I am. It feels like I’m the one who died. I can’t move on. I just float from room to room. I’m the ghost.”
“Do you have anyone? Family? Friends? People who won’t tiptoe around you. Who will urge you to talk? To eat. To make you go outside? All the stuff you don’t want to do. All the stuff that might take you away from pain for a few minutes.”
Marie stared numbly at her. “What do you know about pain?”
Nora moved to the sofa and pulled up her shirtsleeve. The jellyfish burn on her arm, with its bell-shaped head and puffy tentacles, writhed when she balled her first. “I lost a husband too. He didn’t die. He left me. But part of me died when it happened. I didn’t handle it well. I caused a fire. I’m responsible for these scars.”
Tears rolled down Marie’s gaunt cheeks. They’d sprung suddenly, as if Marie could call up a rainstorm of tears in an instant. “I feel like burning everything. This house. All our stuff. I wish I could. That way, I could disappear too.”
Nora sat in a chair across from Marie. “Remember the bowl I bought from Danny? It was meant as a gift, but I couldn’t part with it. Once it was in my house, I wanted it to stay there. It’s the first thing I see when I walk into the kitchen. Right now, it’s full of apples. Granny Smith. The green looks so bright against Danny’s brown glaze.”
Marie wiped her face with the heel of her hands. “Danny started making utilitarian ware two years ago. Before that, all his pieces were an homage to the original Cherokee pots. But I convinced him to make something for everyday use. I said, what do you think your ancestors did with their pots? They baked with them and stored things in them. Pottery is meant to be handled.”
Seeing Marie become animated was encouraging. She clearly enjoying talking about her husband’s craft.
“There’s a bird on the bottom of my bowl,” Nora said. “Does it mean something?”
“The red bird.” Marie turned back to the windows. “Danny’s favorite. We have a bunch of feeders filled with a songbird seed blend to attract cardinals. Danny said the birds were in his blood.”
Though Nora didn’t understand, she kept quiet.
Marie wasn’t in the room with Nora anymore. She was far away, submerged in the past. For her, neither the ocean of pine trees nor the wide, clear sky existed. Only her memories.
“The birds are in his blood on his mama’s side,” she said after a long silence. “Her real name was Cheryl, but everyone called her Red Bird. Her mother was called Red Bird too. Danny said that generations of women in his family have had this nickname.” She put a hand over her belly. “He was so excited about passing it on to his daughter. He wanted her to be as strong and beautiful and kind as the women who’d raised him.”
Nora couldn’t tear her eyes away from Marie’s hand. Her belly showed no signs of roundness. In fact, she was alarmingly thin. But her protective gesture was born of instinct.
Marie was pregnant.
Nora moved to the sofa and sat next to Marie. She took the other woman’s hand in hers. The slender fingers were cold. Nora gently rubbed them until Marie’s skin was warm again.
“You can still call your daughter Red Bird. She’ll be everything Danny dreamed she could be. I don’t have kids, so I don’t know anything about bringing one into the world, but I know this: Expectant mothers need food. Fresh, healthy food.” When Marie began to protest, Nora gently shushed her. “I know you’re not hungry, but you need to eat. I’m going to rustle up something for you.”
Nora expected Marie’s refrigerator to be stuffed with Tupperware and casserole dishes. In times of sickness and loss, people made food. Because it was a tangible way to help, people made baked ziti, chicken enchiladas, and stew. They made cake, Jell-O parfaits, and pies. They stuffed the pantry with chips, bread, and tins of cookies. The grieving rarely ate these offerings, but people felt compelled to bring them all the same.
Marie’s refrigerator was empty of such offerings. Hadn’t anyone stopped by to give her food? Hadn’t Danny’s family and friends gathered in his kitchen and laid out a spread? Where were all the leftovers?
“I threw everything away,” Marie said as if Nora had spoken aloud. “I couldn’t stand the sight of it. There was enough food to feed a family. But there’s no family. Just me.”
Nora spotted a container of cream cheese and checked the expiration date. She then unwrapped Hester’s cinnamon raisin bread and opened drawers until she found a serrated knife. She cut two thick slices and popped them in the toaster. After the bread was toasted, Nora spread them with a generous layer of cream cheese and cut each piece into bite-sized squares.
She put the plate on Marie’s lap and set a glass of water down on the coffee table.
“Start with this,” Nora said.
“My mom used to make me raisin toast when I had a bad day. She’d cut it triangles.” Marie’s eyes filled with tears again. “But I like the squares too.”
She began to eat, and Nora let out a small sigh of relief. When the toast and water were gone, Nora asked if she could make coffee or fix Marie more food.
“I’d offer to take you to the grocery store, but I don’t think we’d make it down the mountain on my moped. It’s not meant for two people, let alone two people and a very small Red Bird.” Nora pointed at Marie’s belly and winked.
This earned her a small smile, and she decided that Marie was strong enough to hear her other reason for showing up on her doorstep. “I was curious about the bird on my bowl, so I searched for Cherokee bird tales. I found an illustration that reminded me of a painting I’d seen at Cherokee Rock. The bird on the rock is just like the one on Danny’s bowl. I thought this was a strange coincidence considering that’s where Danny parked his truck. Do you know anything about the bird at Cherokee Rock?”
Marie stared at her with a mixture of suspicion and surprise, and Nora had the feeling she’d made a mistake by mentioning Danny’s truck. But there was no backing down, so she pulled up the photo on her phone and showed it to Marie.
“Do you see the bird? Right above those black initials?”
Judging by Marie’s sharp intake of breath, she saw it.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured. “I’ve been to Cherokee Rock dozens of times. This wasn’t there before. ”
“I’m sure the sheriff asked why Danny might have parked at the rock and walked into town—”
“He asked, but I couldn’t answer,” Marie interrupted. “Cherokee Rock wasn’t special to us. Sometimes, we’d eat there on the way home from the flea market. It was a pretty spot and Danny liked that his ancestors painted the rock. But I have no idea what Danny was doing there. Or why he loaded pottery in his truck when we’d decided not to go to the flea market.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“It must have been dark out when he left,” she continued wearily. “I didn’t even hear him. Ever since”—she paused to fold her arms over
her waist—“I’m only ten weeks, but I’m really tired. I don’t remember ever being this tired. Anyway, I didn’t hear him leave.”
Fearing that Marie might be pulled under by her grief, Nora squeezed her hand to keep her focused. “This isn’t your fault. I just wondered if someone had painted the red bird as a sign for your husband. Like they were marking a meeting place.”
Too late, Nora realized she should have chosen her words with more care.
“A meeting? With who? A woman?” Marie fumed. “Are you saying that Danny was messing around?”
It was possible, of course, but Nora didn’t think so.
“No,” she said. “I saw the two of you at the flea market. Your husband looked at you with stars in his eyes. You were the only woman in his universe.”
Seeing that Marie was pacified by this answer, Nora pressed on.
“What if someone had a bone to pick with him? Or was calling in a debt? I have no idea. I just thought you should see this bird. It feels important, but I don’t know why.”
Marie was silent for a very long time. Finally, she whispered, “I feel it too. That bird was a messenger. Not from the spirit world. It’s a man-made message. I don’t know what it meant to Danny. I wish I knew. I didn’t think he kept secrets from me, but I guess I was wrong. Why else would he sneak out like that? Why wouldn’t he stay home like we planned?”
“Maybe he was keeping secrets to protect you. You and his baby.”
Marie released a sigh that permeated the room with sorrow and the kind of bone-deep weariness that only the sleep-deprived understand. “He can’t protect us now.”
Nora stood up. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I should go.”
“Have you told the sheriff about the bird?” Marie asked.
Nora shook her head. “I thought I should tell you first.”
“Would you tell him? I need to lie down now.”