by Sloan Archer
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was the summer of 1991, and Vanessa’s mother had just shacked up with some new waster, Alfie Gertz, who was involved in a shady real estate scheme that entailed selling timeshares for condos that did not exist down in the Caribbean. Marissa, Vanessa, and Alfie had been on the road to Seattle from Denver when Alfie declared that it would be a lot harder to present himself—and Marissa, who’d he dragged into the scheme—as a legitimate businessperson if they were lugging around a kid.
What a lucky coincidence it was, then, when it suddenly dawned on Marissa just how long it had been since she’d paid her dear older sister in Montana a visit. In fact, it would be almost rude if they didn’t stop by! So, off to Jeanie’s they detoured, where they arrived on fumes in Alfie’s beat-up Ford Fiesta late in the day.
The dust hadn’t even begun to settle on Jeanie’s bumpy dirt road before Marissa ordered Vanessa out of the car, an old grocery bag filled with her pathetically few belongings thrusted into her arms. Jeanie opened the door to find her strung-out sister and a tatty little girl she hadn’t previously known had been born standing on her porch. After a quick hello, Marissa delivered a marginally coherent presentation about her daughter’s obedience—she’s good, quiet, and won’t give you any trouble—with an empty gas can at her feet.
Fifteen minutes later, Marissa was back on her way to Seattle, two gallons of gas heavier and one daughter lighter. Vanessa, deposited for storage like an outdated piece of furniture, had been promised that she’d be picked up in a few days.
It would be months before Marissa returned.
Though the very notion of being left at a complete stranger’s home would have panicked most seven-year-old girls, Vanessa had taken the abandonment in stride. It was not the first time she’d been dumped by her mother, nor would it be the last. Vanessa hadn’t cared too much for Alfie, anyway, who reeked of Pall Malls and had a propensity toward belching the alphabet. She’d viewed the whole ordeal as not only an adventure, but also a vacation from the stresses of her regular life, where she had to take on the role of adult. At Aunt Jeanie’s, Vanessa got to be a bona fide kid.
Vanessa had also been excited to meet a relative, a word that had sounded exotic to her young ears when she’d heard it. She’d met few previously. Her father, Benny, had hit the road long before she was born. Marissa, after five whiskey sours too many, had once let it slip that she’d lost Benny because he already had a wife and three other kids waiting for him at home in New Jersey. Vanessa might have argued that it was not possible to lose something you never really had, but at the time she’d let it slide.
As an adult, Vanessa probably could have tracked Benny down with minimal searching on her part, but she’d felt it best to return the favor and stay away. Marissa had assured her that she would not have liked what she found, anyway. Which said a lot. If Marissa, whose appraisal of men was hardly what any functioning adult woman would call discerning, said the guy was bad, then he must be really bad.
With her father completely out of the picture, the remainder of what scant family Vanessa had left was all on her mother’s side. Both her maternal grandmother and grandfather had passed away from disease (heart and liver, respectively) at a relatively young age, and whatever ties that had once existed between Vanessa and her cousins, aunts, and uncles had been severed long ago, with Marissa being Marissa.
Had Marissa and Alfie also wanted to stay with Vanessa, Jeanie would have undoubtedly refused her home that summer. This had been as clear to Vanessa as the sky above the farm. During the first few days of her visit, Vanessa also began to suspect that her aunt had let her stay only out of pity. There was that, plus the fact that Marissa had given her virtually no other choice.
It had been slow going at the start. Jeanie, divorced, childless, and planning on staying that way, was accustomed to being on her own. When nosier folks in town probed if she ever planned on getting married again, she’d answer once was enough with a snort. That, or Why do I need a husband when I’ve got a dog? She had a staunch schedule that she abided to, not only out of want but also necessity: the chickens, goats, and her ancient Basset Hound, Able, weren’t going to feed themselves. There were also rose bushes that needed pruning, as well as endless home repairs that required seeing to.
Still, Jeanie had plenty of room to spare in the five-bedroom farmhouse she’d inherited from Vanessa’s grandparents, which she’d decorated with feminine touches like lace curtains and flowery wallpaper. To Vanessa, who’d spent the majority of her childhood being shuffled from one drab motel to the next, it looked like a castle built for a princess. And, to Vanessa, Aunt Jeanie, with her country-strong arms, cornflower blue eyes, and wild sun-bleached hair, looked like one—a beautiful untamed princess.
Jeanie initially didn’t know what to make of the quiet little girl who behaved more like a middle-aged woman. The morning after Vanessa’s arrival, she’d been stunned to find a pot of coffee brewing and a plate of eggs waiting for her on the table. Before she even had a chance to dig in to her breakfast, there was her little guest, asking if there was any laundry that needed washing. It hurt Jeanie’s heart in a way she’d never experienced, particularly when she noted the dark circles under Vanessa’s eyes, which were far too shrewd for a child so young.
After a few days of living together, Jeanie was finally able to convince her niece that she need not get up and cook breakfast for her. And so the next morning Vanessa slept in so long and hard that Jeanie began to worry that she might be sick. She finally awakened at four in the afternoon. It took Jeanie only one look at the little girl’s rested face, which now appeared years younger, to understand how exhausted she’d been. It was this insight, among many others in the months that followed, that awakened the protective lioness inside her. How could Marissa bring such a lovely, special little creature into the world and show so little care toward her?
Soon, the two became pals and a new routine emerged; Vanessa and Jeanie would spend much of the day tending to the farm. Vanessa’s favorite chores were feeding grain to the hens, who flurried around her in happy song as they pecked at the ground near her toes, and picking veggies from the garden at the back of the house. Sometimes, they also baked cookies, cakes, and pies from scratch. At night, Jeanie watched her programs while Vanessa colored pictures. (You’ve never had a coloring book? Jeanie asked when she brought a stack of them home from the market. Not one that wasn’t already colored in, Vanessa replied, which caused Aunt Jeanie to shake her head the way she often did whenever her niece spoke about her childhood.) For those gloriously sunny three months, Vanessa and Jeanie coexisted in perfect harmony.
Not once had Marissa checked in on her daughter. The silence had, in fact, been so complete—not a single phone call or even a post card—that Jeanie began to suspect that her sister might never return. Maybe, she’d figured, Marissa had finally ripped off the wrong person and her ill-fated end had come. If not, there was always the more likely possibly of an overdose.
Besides the obvious, which was that Marissa had been able to leave her child behind in the first place, what astounded Jeanie most of all was how little Vanessa had questioned her abandonment. It was almost as if she’d been waiting her whole life for such an event to occur. Perhaps Vanessa had found some deserved relief, now that the other shoe had dropped.
Toward the end of the summer, Jeanie had come to accept that she was now a mother. She could have easily absolved herself the duty—called the police or handed Vanessa over to a social worker—but the truth was that she was happy to accept the responsibility. Jeanie made absolutely no attempt to track Marissa down, but she secretly hoped that she’d stay gone forever. Having Vanessa propelled so suddenly into her life, though jarring, had filled a space in her heart that she had not realized was hollow. She had, in the simplest of terms, fallen in love with the girl.
Vanessa felt the same way about Aunt Jeanie, but past experiences had conditioned her to expect the worst. She wanted to remain on the far
m more than anything in the whole wide world, but she knew better than to get her hopes up. She wanted to tell Aunt Jeanie that she shouldn’t, either, because she didn’t want to see her get hurt.
Although Jeanie and Vanessa never discussed the particulars of their living arrangement, there was an unspoken understanding between them. Until Marissa returned, if she ever did, Vanessa was considered a resident of Dunblair Ridge. With school soon starting up again in the fall, Jeanie registered Vanessa for classes at Wind Rose Elementary. She also bought her school supplies and a whole new wardrobe, since Vanessa had arrived with so little. While she was at it, she redecorated the spare bedroom to Vanessa’s liking, swapping antique oil paintings and the tired old quilt for glossy posters of horses and a cheery turquoise bedspread.
It was a typically peaceful Wednesday afternoon when their lives were turned upside down. Vanessa was in the field playing when she saw a rusty blue truck come tearing down Aunt Jeanie’s driveway. Her heart sank as soon as the dust settled and two figures got out. The man she had never seen before, but the woman with the brassy dyed red hair she knew.
Her mother had returned.
Vanessa briefly toyed with the possibly of running away, but as she’d come to understand from her life with her mother, running away never solved problems. Sometimes, it made them worse. She crossed the field to face the music.
It wasn’t music she encountered at Aunt Jeanie’s but shouting—Vanessa could hear them clear from the driveway. The two sisters were really going at it.
Aunt Jeanie: You can’t take her from me, you can’t! You were dead for all we knew. You can’t take care of her the way I can. I’m not asking for money or anything else. I can give her a good life, stability—
Marissa: Just because you can’t get a man to make your own kids with, it doesn’t mean that you get to steal mine!
Aunt Jeanie: You’re not even a real mother, dumping her off like she’s last week’s trash! You don’t deserve her! I bet you can’t even remember the last time you spent an entire day sober. I ought to call child protective services on you!
Marissa: Go ahead! They didn’t do nothing last time they were called! And even if they do take her away, I’ll make sure they don’t give her to you! You want to see Vanessa go into foster care? Because that’s what’s going to happen. I’d rather give her to strangers than have her stay here! You may have always won like a spoiled little brat when we were kids, but you don’t get to win now!
Aunt Jeanie: This has nothing to do with winning!
Marissa: Right!
Aunt Jeanie, softer now: Marissa, I’m begging you. Please, think about what’s best for Vanessa. She’s happy here with me. She doesn’t want to go with you.
Marissa: And just how the hell would you know that?
But Marissa did know the instant her daughter stepped inside the house. She could tell by the look on her daughter’s small, miserable face. Vanessa wanted to stay with Aunt Jeanie.
Jeanie ran to Vanessa and curled a protective arm around her. “Do you want to stay here with me, Vanessa? Tell them. It’s okay.”
Before she could answer, Marissa and the man (later, it was revealed that Alfie had been replaced) were ripping Vanessa away and hauling her outside by her forearms.
Vanessa kicked and screamed with fury, but she was no match against the man, whose biceps were about as big as a horse’s neck. It wasn’t long before she was strapped into the truck.
Jeanie came running out of the house, tears streaming down her face. At least let me say goodbye! Vanessa! It was evident that she was trying her hardest to hold it in, but soon her sniffles turned into full-blown sobbing. Please, please, don’t take her!
On countless past occasions, Vanessa had felt anger toward her mother. But this was the first time in her young life that she’d ever felt pure, unbridled hatred. She pleaded to stay with Aunt Jeanie, but her voice went ignored . . . Ignored, that was, until the man hollered at her to shut up.
Jeanie flew into a rage instantly—who was this creep to shout at Vanessa like that? She pounded on the passenger’s side window of the truck, ordering Marissa to unlock the door.
The scene continued to play out in the same fashion until Donna, Aunt Jeanie’s best friend, came strolling out onto the yard. She held up something shiny, gave it a little shake. Seems Marissa had forgotten her keys on the kitchen table.
Donna, who exhibited a calmness like Vanessa had never seen amid such chaos (and she’d seen plenty), acted as a mediator. She asked Marissa to please give her a few minutes. She then pulled Aunt Jeanie aside, the two exchanged a few quiet words, and Jeanie went inside the house.
Jeanie returned with a suitcase filled with Vanessa’s new belongings. Calmly, she put it in the back of the truck. The man rolled down the window for Vanessa so that she and Jeanie could say goodbye.
Jeanie told Vanessa that she was sorry that she’d lost her temper, that she shouldn’t worry because everything was going to be alright. She also said that she loved her and promised to write frequently. Vanessa knew that she was only saying most of those things only to make her feel better. It wasn’t going to be alright; it never was when she was with her mother.
Vanessa told Jeanie in return that she wished she was her mother, and then Marissa started the truck and drove off in a hurry.
Days, weeks, months, and years passed. Vanessa had not received word from her aunt. She could only assume that she’d been forgotten. Whenever Vanessa asked to make a phone call to her, her mother reminded her that money didn’t grow on trees and that long distance calls were expensive—if, that was, they even had a phone at the time.
Despite the silence from her aunt’s end, Vanessa still tried to reach out. She wrote letters for the holidays and drew pictures on postcards, which her mother promised to send on her behalf. There was only so much a little girl with no money could do. Ultimately, Vanessa gave up on ever seeing Aunt Jeanie again, filing away her time in Dunblair Ridge in the back of her mind with all her other bittersweet events of childhood.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Vanessa got up to open a window. Though Margo’s tiny living space had a tendency to feel stuffy at the end of the day, she suspected her overall feeling of staleness was a by-product of not leaving home (well, Margo’s home) all day.
She got up to make another cup of coffee and then thought better of it. At the rate she was caffeinating herself, she wouldn’t feel tired for hours, and she was already having plenty difficulty sleeping at night without the extra help. She opted for water instead and then picked up her phone to return Gary Hinkle’s call.
“Vanessa!” he cried after she identified herself, as if they were old friends. “It’s such a relief to hear from you.”
“Hello, Gary. I’m sorry about that,” she said, though she couldn’t imagine why she should feel apologetic. “I’ve only just gotten your message.”
“That’s so odd, because . . .” Gary trailed off and then let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, never mind.”
“You said you’ve got some news about my aunt?”
“Yes. That’s right.” Gary cleared his throat. “I don’t typically discuss these matters over the phone, but since we’re under time constraints, and with you being in New York and all—”
“How did you know that I was in New York?”
Gary paused and then carried on as if he hadn’t heard her question. “As you know, your aunt passed away.”
Vanessa curled forward as all the air whooshed from her lungs. She squeezed her eyes closed, dizzy.
Aunt Jeanie . . . gone. And she’s only just gotten her back in memory.
“Vanessa?” Gary sounded worried. “Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m . . .” She took in a deep breath. “I’m still here. You took me a little by surprise. This is the first time I’ve heard about my aunt’s passing. I actually haven’t heard from her in years.”
“Oh my goodness!” Gary cried. “I’m so very, very sorry! I just assumed that
your mother would have told you.”
“You talked to my mother?”
“Well, yes,” Gary said in a cautious tone. “Just after Jeanie passed.”
“How did she die?”
“It was very sudden, a heart attack. We’re all just so heartbroken about it. Everyone in town loved her very much. She was such a sweet lady.”
“I . . . I just can’t believe it . . .” Vanessa took a few gulps of water to suppress her tears. Finally, she managed, “So you’re calling about the funeral, then? If you tell me when it is, I can look into travel arrangements—”
“The funeral?” Gary said slowly. “No. We already had that.”
“When?”
“A little over two weeks ago, of course, just after Jeanie passed. It was a very lovely service. The whole town was there. I assumed your mother would have told you.”
Vanessa got to her feet and began pacing around the living room. It was despicable, even for her mother, to withhold news of a family member’s death. Her own sister! “Are you sure that it was actually my mother that you spoke to?”
“Oh, yes, very sure,” Gary said, sounding a little insulted. “In fact, she was the one who called us shortly after your aunt’s death—to make sure that your aunt’s will was in order.”
“I see.” Of course she had. It was the only time her mother could be bothered to enquire about family, if money might be involved. “My mother and I aren’t that close, so we don’t speak too often.”
“Ah. I see,” Gary said, like that explains everything.
It was a tone Vanessa had frequently heard whenever she’d been associated with her mother, the undertone being: How did an upstanding woman like yourself come from stock like that?
“After a death takes place, it takes a week or two on our end to sort out all the paperwork in these matters, which isn’t typically a problem. The family of the deceased doesn’t often begin to enquire about the will until after the funeral. But your mother . . .” Gary seemed to be at a loss for words.