Magnolia Bay Memories

by Babette de Jongh

  At that moment, Heather decided to take Erin home. Then she could talk to the twins without Erin’s argumentative presence tainting the conversation. She reminded herself that her intention was to make a new family ritual that would help the kids remember Dale in ways that cemented good memories and made even more good memories going forward. Forcing any of them to participate would only accomplish the exact opposite. Erin was old enough to remember Dale; the twins were the ones who most needed those memories to be nurtured into the future.

  When they got to the house, Erin slammed out of the car and stormed toward the house before any of the others had even shifted in their seats.

  “Hang on, kids,” Heather said. “I want to talk to y’all a second.”

  She explained her plan for the afternoon and the reason for it. Then, instead of telling them they had to come along—because making Erin babysit while Heather went by herself would be a nice bit of passive-aggressive poetic justice—she let them decide for themselves.

  “Sure,” Josh said. “I want to go. Can we get ice cream too?”

  Caroline bounced in her seat. “Yes, please, but can I go inside and pee first?”

  “Sure, honey.” Heather cut the engine. “Let’s all go in for a few minutes before we leave.”

  Heather knocked lightly before opening the door to Erin’s room. It wasn’t quite a pigsty but wasn’t far from it either. Erin had flung herself onto the messy bed, clearly prepared to sulk whether she got her way or not. “You told me you cleaned your room this past weekend.”

  “I did.” Erin’s voice was muffled by the mattress. “It got dirty again.”

  “I see.” Heather waited a few seconds, but Erin didn’t say anything else. “Well, the twins and I are going to the cemetery, and you are welcome to change your mind and come along if you’d like.”

  Erin shook her head and mumbled something.

  “Suit yourself.” Heather closed Erin’s door softly and walked away.

  ***

  Charlie stood in the field and watched the family’s car drive away again, though it had only been in the garage for a few minutes. Charlie’s people spent a lot of time coming and going but very little time interacting with him. He understood; he didn’t deserve their time or attention.

  He stood with his nose to the ground, though he wasn’t grazing. His belly hurt, so he hadn’t eaten this morning, but Erin didn’t know that because she always poured his daily scoop of sweetened oats into the bin without looking. He hadn’t eaten the hay that she’d tossed into the hayrack in the corner of his stall either. He had torn at it in frustration, so most of it got scattered on top of his droppings or stuck to the peed-on mass of wood shavings that squished under his hooves.

  Dale had always made sure that Charlie had a fluffy layer of shavings to stomp through and to lie on at night if he decided to relax fully instead of sleeping standing up. But Erin rarely took the time to scrape the stall down to the bare-dirt floor before adding fresh bedding. The substrate of Charlie’s stall was often so soaked with urine that it irritated his skin if he decided to lie down to sleep. He had always tried to avoid messing in his own stall, but sometimes Erin put him up too early in the afternoons. And when that happened, he just couldn’t help making a mess.

  Life after Dale wasn’t really worth living.

  No more than Charlie deserved, he knew.

  He hadn’t meant to do it.

  A hot breeze blew across the pasture, sending tufts of milkweed tumbling across the too-tall alfalfa grass.

  Dale had kept the pasture mowed-down so the blades Charlie nibbled were always juicy and sweet. Ever since Charlie had killed the person he loved most in the world, the grasses and weeds had been left to grow tall and bitter.

  Charlie hadn’t meant to do it.

  But that didn’t matter.

  Nothing did. If Charlie had known how to will himself to die, he would have done it already. Maybe now that his belly hurt so much that he couldn’t bring himself to eat, the release he longed for would finally happen.

  ***

  When Adrian got to the shelter that afternoon, he laughed out loud at the sight that greeted him. He pulled into his usual parking spot next to a folding chair and tiny worktable with an even tinier ice chest on top. He hadn’t confirmed that he would actually show up to help tame the feral cat, but apparently, Reva had faith in him.

  He put his phone and laptop on the table, then covered his car with the tarp. When he opened the ice chest, he laughed again. “Thanks, Reva,” he said out loud, popping the top on a cold beer. He took a swig and poked through the contents nestled into a bed of ice. A bottle of water, a baggie of sesame sticks in a paper bowl (for him, he assumed), and another baggie… He turned it over to read the label written with a Sharpie in flowing longhand: Kitty Crack. And, in another baggie, a small squirt bottle of citronella bug spray.

  He set his beer on the table and settled in to begin the campaign to lure the feral tomcat to his eventual fate as a domesticated house cat. “Better you than me, dude,” he said to the cat who was still nowhere to be seen. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  After opening his laptop and connecting to the shelter’s Wi-Fi, he clicked on an email, then tossed a cat treat through the fence and into the tangle of trees beyond. “Well, shit.” That was stupid. He tossed the next one with a little less oomph. It bounced on the gravel and through the fence, landing a couple of inches from the wire. “Better.”

  He dealt with emails, calling, “Here, kitty, kitty,” every now and again. Ten emails later, his relative inattention was rewarded; Stinky Cat sat hunched on the other side of the fence, crunching on the Kitty Crack. “Hey, buddy.” Adrian threw another morsel. “What’s up in the big, bad world?”

  The cat declined to answer—or even to look up. He crept over to the new treat and started munching, so Adrian threw another few treats, this time making sure some of them landed on his side of the fence. Reva came across the parking lot carrying a small cat crate. “How’s it going?”

  Adrian leaned back in the folding chair. “As you see. That crate might be a little premature.”

  Reva set the crate down next to the fence, several yards down from Adrian’s impromptu office space. “I’m setting this up for later to get him used to the crate.” Reva propped the crate’s open door against the fence and set a plastic container of food inside. “Also, I just got a text from Heather. She and the twins are on their way here.” She stood slowly. The tomcat looked up but kept eating the treat he was working on. “I thought I’d let you know in case you were thinking of picking up the cat. I wouldn’t want you to get flayed alive again.”

  “They’re bringing that horrible dog, I take it.”

  “Not this time. They’re… They’ve just left the cemetery. Today was Dale’s birthday. Apparently, the visit to the gravesite didn’t go as planned.”

  This was precisely the sort of shit Adrian didn’t want to get involved in, but it seemed that a response was expected. “Oh?”

  “Heather was hoping it would be a…celebration of sorts, but it didn’t turn out that way.”

  He snorted. “No shit.”

  Reva narrowed her eyes at him. “Be nice.”

  Chastised, he retreated behind his charming half smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She drifted closer, her arms crossed. The cat looked up but didn’t move. “I’m going to take the kids across to Bayside Barn and get them involved in feeding critters. Take their minds off missing their dad.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Adrian closed his laptop, since Reva was distracting him from finishing his emails anyway. Maybe he’d head home earlier than he’d planned. The cat wouldn’t cross the fence until all the coming and going had stopped for the day, so he was officially wasting his time now. “I guess I’ll—”

  “I was hoping,” Reva cut him off, “that you’d talk with Hea
ther. Maybe go for a walk or something. Cheer her up a little.”

  “I’ve actually got a lot of work to…” His voice drifted off in the face of Reva’s disapproving expression. With her crossed arms and her pursed lips, she reminded him a lot of his mother right this minute. “Um…I really do have a bit of work to do still.” He wasn’t lying; once he finished with emails, he had to edit a draft business plan for a new startup company he was advising.

  But Reva’s silent stare was scarier even than his mom’s. “I guess I could…um…spare a few minutes before I head home.”

  Reva’s pursed lips stayed pursed, and her squinting eyes stayed squinted. She tightened her crossed arms.

  “Maybe I’ll take her for a quick spin in the convertible.”

  Reva smiled and patted his shoulder. “That’s a wonderful idea. I’m so glad you thought of it.”

  ***

  Heather arrived at the shelter with two very subdued kids in the back seat. Maybe Erin had been right after all. Heather needed to stop living in the past and allow Dale’s shadow to fade away.

  She parked near the shelter’s front porch, and Reva opened the back door for the twins. “Hey, you guys,” Reva said with excitement to the kids who crawled out of the car. “You want to come see the baby bunnies?”

  Caroline nodded soberly, her thumb still in her mouth.

  “I guess so,” Josh answered, sounding sullen and unhappy.

  “Come on then.” Reva held out her hands. “You can help me feed the barn critters too.”

  Heather got out of the car, feeling lost. She needed a hug, but Reva’s attention was all on the twins. Reva tipped a chin toward the far end of the lot, where Adrian was folding the canvas tarp and putting it in the trunk of his car. “Go see that one. Ask him how the cat taming is going. No talking—or even thinking—about you-know-who allowed.”

  She looked over at Adrian. “I don’t think he wants to be bothered with me and my problems.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t. So don’t bother him. Just go somewhere and have fun. He’ll be able to remind you how that’s done, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  Heather shook her head but schlepped across the parking lot toward Adrian, who had climbed into his low-slung car and started the engine. The automatic convertible top started folding back all by itself. “Fancy,” she said when she drew even with the passenger door.

  “Of course,” he replied with a wink and a grin. “Get in.”

  She hesitated a moment, glancing to where Reva had taken the kids, but then got in and slammed the door harder than she’d intended to—her old Honda’s doors had to be hauled shut with some force to close completely. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I see you got the scratches taken care of already.”

  “Friends in high places.” He slid his sunglasses down to cover his eyes. “You ready to go for a joyride?”

  She forced a smile. “I’d be a fool to say no to a little joy, wouldn’t I?”

  Adrian drove aimlessly, Sunday driving on a Wednesday afternoon. Whenever someone got behind them, he pulled over to let them pass. “Wonder what’s down this road?” he’d say, turning down one potholed track after another.

  “Ooh, look at that,” she said, pointing out a modern farmhouse perched atop a gentle rise. “How pretty.”

  “I claim that tractor,” he said, referring to the big John Deere some guy was driving across a quaint wooden bridge spanning a winding stream at the foot of the hill.

  “What on earth would you do with a tractor?” Heather lifted her face to the breeze as the convertible zoomed around a curve, leaving the farmhouse and tractor behind. “Do you even know how to drive one?”

  “I know how to do a lot of things.” He gave her a comical leer. “You want me to show you a few of them?”

  She smiled, feeling…well…maybe a tiny hint of joy. “Maybe one of these days.”

  ***

  Realizing that he couldn’t drive aimlessly forever, Adrian turned back toward the main drag, a narrow backcountry blacktop that wound around the bay. Sometimes the bay was visible; other times they passed long stretches of woodland interspersed with fancy pillared gates that guarded some of the more expensive waterfront estates. He thought he knew where he was going, unless he’d turned the wrong way onto Bayview Drive.

  But no, here it was. He slowed just in time to ease into the gravel parking lot of Big Daddy’s Bar & Grill. He parked under a cypress tree festooned with Spanish moss and hoped for the best; there were no out-in-the-open spots available. He folded his sunglasses and put them in the console. “Fancy a drink?”

  A dozen different excuses flitted across her face before she smiled and said, “Sure. Why not?”

  She undid her seat belt and reached for the door handle, but he put a hand on her thigh, a silent cue for her to stay put so he could do the gentlemanly thing and open her door. She nodded and settled for wrapping the long strap around her tiny pink leather purse.

  He suspected the tiny purse revealed something about her. She didn’t carry around a bunch of cosmetics and beauty implements or a day-runner and iPad to keep abreast of her important and ever-evolving business concerns or a ton of other unnecessary minutia. He wasn’t sure what that revelation meant about her personality, but he decided he was interested in finding out. Could it be that she was one of those rare people who had the ability to inhabit each moment as it came without obsessing over appearances, thinking ahead to the next thing, or planning for every eventuality?

  He opened her door and held out a hand to assist her out of the car. She rose gracefully, looking down until the last second when he didn’t immediately release her hand. Her eyes met his, a look of hesitant anticipation in those clear, leaf-green depths.

  He thought about kissing her. This time, he hoped she wouldn’t freeze in dismay. This time, she might even lean into him. He looked at her soft, prettily curved lips, then back up to meet her eyes. He lowered his eyelids in that way that always made her blush. And blush she did, but she also smiled, a tiny secret smile. “Are you going to buy me that drink or what?”

  Chapter 4

  Friday evening, Erin came into the kitchen with her backpack slung over one shoulder. She’d gone home with Sierra after school that day and had been dropped off in time for dinner as instructed. “I’m so glad it’s the weekend.”

  “I know. TGIF, right?” Heather gave the pot of noodles she was tending another stir. She’d taken the twins to the shelter after school, and they’d only just gotten home a half hour ago. Spaghetti night had turned into shrimp Alfredo night because frozen shrimp thawed faster than ground beef. “How was the yearbook meeting?”

  “Fine. We all got digital cameras on loan from the school, but honestly, I think I’ll just use my cell phone.” Erin took a clean glass down from the cupboard and filled it with water from the fridge. “I’m gonna head upstairs and do my homework now so I can rest and relax for the rest of the weekend.”

  “Good plan.”

  Erin headed toward the stairs.

  “Wait up,” Heather said. “You fed Charlie before you came in, right?”

  “Jeez, Mom.” Erin dropped her backpack on the floor and set her water glass on the counter with more force than necessary. “Why do you always jump on me the minute I walk in the door? Why are you punishing me?”

  Heather swallowed a sudden surge of temper. “It’s not punishment to take care of Charlie. He is your responsibility, and I shouldn’t need to remind you that he’s the reason you get such a generous allowance. The twins take care of Jasper, you take care of Charlie, and I take care of you kids.”

  Instead of replying, Erin sent a daggered glance that Heather didn’t have to turn around to see because she could feel it boring into the back of her head.

  “We all have to help each other,” Heather reminded her daughter, as if that would help.

 
But of course, it only poured oil onto the fire. Erin made a hissing noise that was eerily similar to the one Dale used to make whenever things didn’t go his way. “Why don’t we just sell Charlie? We might as well, since you won’t let me ride him without Daddy here to teach me. He just stands out there in the field, all alone, all day long. It makes me sad.”

  “I know.” Heather blinked back tears. “It makes me sad too. But that horse—”

  “The horse you’re too scared to even go near,” Erin spat.

  “Yes. But the horse I’m too scared of…was Dale’s horse. And I’m sorry, for Charlie and for you and for me, that I’m just not ready to let him go.” She’d thought of it, even gone so far as to contact an equine rescue group. But in the end, she couldn’t go through with putting Charlie up for adoption. “Seeing Charlie all alone in that field is sad, but not seeing him at all would be sadder still. So I’m trusting you to take care of him. Maybe we can find someone to teach you how to ride next summer.”

  “It doesn’t make sense!” Erin yelled. “Why are you hanging on to a horse you’re too afraid to even touch?”

  “Because letting Charlie go would be like letting your dad go all over again, and I’m just not ready to do that.”

  Erin slumped with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go feed Charlie.”

  Heather drained and rinsed the noodles, then melted a big chunk of butter over low heat. She poured heavy whipping cream into a jar, dumped in a tablespoon of plain flour, closed the lid, and shook the jar vigorously. The thought of throwing the jar across the room crossed her mind, but she carefully opened the lid and poured the frothy mixture into the saucepan, then stirred in a container of shredded Parmesan cheese. While the sauce thickened, she sautéed the thawed shrimp in a small skillet.

  Erin slammed into the kitchen in a huff. “Well, I tried to feed Charlie. I set up his stall, but he wouldn’t come. He’s just standing out in the field with his head down.”

  A feeling of dread crept over Heather. “Did you call him?”

  Erin made a huff of irritation. “Of course I did. He just stood there.”