by Kelly Risser
It was close to dinnertime when we returned to Peggy’s Cove. Katie drove me home, but didn’t stay. Her parents were having some friends over that night. They expected her to be there for the dinner. She promised to catch up with me on Tuesday, her day off that week.
I went in and headed for the kitchen, since I heard my mom and grandmother talking. My grandma was at the stove making dinner. Mom stood at the counter chopping vegetables. They turned and smiled when I came in.
“How was shopping?” Mom asked.
“Great,” I said. “We had fun.”
“Did you get some new clothes for school?”
“Yes.” She looked at me expectantly, so I added. “Three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a sweater. I’ll show you later. I left the bags by the door.”
“Do you need money?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve got it.” I’d saved up quite a bit from work. I rarely spent anything back home, so I had a nice savings account. Mom wanted me to save it all for college. I disagreed. It wouldn’t hurt to spend a little.
“Well, let me know when you want to go and get your supplies.”
“We bought those, too.” I hoped she wasn’t disappointed that I didn’t wait for her. She didn’t seem to mind, although she insisted on paying me back for the supplies.
“Evan called while you were out,” Grandma Mary said. She tried to sound casual. Her curiosity dripped from every word.
“I’ll go and call him back.”
“Go?” she asked with a frown.
I bit my tongue to keep from smiling. This would kill her. “To my room. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I kissed Mom’s cheek, and she winked at me when Grandma Mary’s head was turned. She knew what I was up to. She probably did the same thing when she was my age. Grandma Mary was sweet, and she loved juicy gossip.
I decided to use my cell phone, since both of my grandparents’ phones were tethered to the wall. One was in the kitchen, probably the one Grandma Mary had hoped I would use, and the other was in the family room. Honestly, had they never heard of cordless phones?
“Hello?”
I didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the line. It was a deep baritone.
“Hi. This is Meara. Is Evan there?”
“Oh, Meara. I finally get to talk to you. This is Darren, Evan’s dad. One minute, I’ll get him.”
“How was shopping?” Evan asked without saying hello, adding. “Katie sure brought back a haul.”
“Yes, well, she bought more than me.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
“She also has a job.” I felt the need to defend Katie.
“I thought you did, too.” Evan knew that I worked on Sew Beautiful’s website.
“I guess, but I’m kind of phasing out of it,” I said. “It doesn’t pay much, that’s for sure.”
“Not compared to those big diner tips, I suppose.”
I knew he was teasing, and I chose to ignore it. “You called earlier?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Do you want to go to a museum tomorrow?”
“Sure. Where?”
“It’s in Halifax. The Museum of Natural History. I’ll pick you up at ten.”
“I’ll be ready.” I heard Evan’s name being called in the background. It sounded like Lydia. “I think you’re wanted.”
“We have company.”
“I know. Katie told me. It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Meara.”
“Night.”
I went back to the kitchen and ate dinner with my grandmother and my mom. Grandpa Jamie was working late as usual. After I helped clean up, I took my shopping bags back to my room and put away my new clothes. Then, I sat on my bed and wrote an email to Kim. In her last email, she begged me to tell her more about Evan, Katie, and Ula.
Details, Meara, she wrote. You know those little words called adjectives? Use them. Oh, and send pictures too.
So I described my friends with as much detail as I could, and I even wrote about Katie giving me the picture of my mom with my dad in it. The picture! It was in my purse tucked behind my driver’s license in my wallet. I pulled it out and studied it again. How was it that David only looked a few years older? Mom, though still pretty, was obviously much older now than when the picture was taken. Same with Lydia. I couldn’t speak for Darren, since I hadn’t met him in person yet, but I imagined he had aged too. Everyone aged. Everyone, apparently, but my father. What was going on? I hoped he planned to visit me in dreamland tonight, because I had questions.
I decided to put the picture in the same frame on my dresser that held the picture of just my mom. She wore the same yellow dress in that photo; it must have been taken around the same time. Picking up the frame, I carried it to my bed. The back was the kind that slid off, but it was tight. I pressed hard. Eventually, it slid down. A stack of photographs fell out. I expected the typical foam padding or some cardboard, but there was none. Curious, I picked them up and flipped them over. The first one was my mom; the one I had seen in the frame. When I looked at the picture under it, I almost dropped the whole stack. It was a picture of me when I was three. With shaking hands, I flipped it over and read the inscription.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Here is Meara at age three. She’s getting big so fast. I wish you could see what a smart, beautiful child she is. Mom, she has your curiosity and Dad, your persistence. She keeps me on my toes!
I hope you are well. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you. Hopefully, we will be able to come for a visit soon.
Love Always,
Sharon
I quickly went through the rest. There was a picture of me for every year, including my junior picture from last year. Each one was inscribed with a similar message, hoping to visit, but not finding the time. Mom said she never talked to her parents, that they were estranged. If that was true, why did she send pictures of me with loving notes on the back? What was Mom not telling me?
I left the frame on my bed and went to find her. She was in her room, reading.
“Mom? Can you come to my room for a minute? I want to show you something.” I kept my voice even and calm, although I was seething inside.
“Sure, sweetie.” Mom put her book down and stood up. “Do you want to show me what you bought today?”
“No, something I found in my room.”
“Oh, okay.” She sounded surprised, but she followed me. I picked up the pictures and held them out to her. She was smiling until she saw my grinning toddler face. She clutched at the collar of her shirt and didn’t make any attempt to take the pictures. “Where did you find those?”
“In the frame behind the picture of you.” Since she was clearly not going to take the photographs, I fanned them out for her to see. “They’re me, Mom. They’re all me. If you weren’t talking to your parents, why’d you send pictures?”
“They’re your grandparents,” Mom said, as if that explained everything.
“But you weren’t speaking to them. Or were you?”
“I wasn’t.” Mom didn’t move from the doorway or let go of her shirt. I didn’t even think she was aware she was holding her collar in a death grip.
“Were you fighting with them?”
“What kind of a question is that? Do you think I was lying to you?”
“I don’t know, Mom. The evidence is pretty strong.” I flung the pictures across the bed. “I sure wasn’t expecting to find these in a frame in my room!”
“Everything okay in here?” Grandma Mary stood behind my mom in the doorway, peering over her shoulder. She saw the pictures splayed across the bed and sighed. “Oh, I see.”
“Grandma,” I said. I left off Mary, hoping to soften her up. “Have you been keeping in touch with my mom all these years? She told me that you were estranged. That she didn’t talk to you anymore.”
“That’s true, Meara.” My grandmother said it quietly, placing her arm around my mom’s shoulder. Mom’s eyes were shiny like she
was about to cry. Well, let her, I thought, swallowing a lump in my throat.
“Then why do you have all these pictures of me?”
“Your mom mailed them to us, one letter every year with a picture of you. No return address. Always sent from a different location.”
“Why?” I asked. We looked to my mom for an answer.
Mom was crying in earnest now. She walked past me and sat on the edge of my bed. “I’m so sorry!” she cried. “When your father left, I was heartbroken. I couldn’t take the chance that he would try to take you from me. So, when the opportunity came, I moved as far away as I could.”
Grandma Mary sighed. She sat next to Mom and patted her knee. “That’s why the letters were unmarked and from all over.”
“I didn’t want him to find us,” my mom whispered.
“You didn’t trust us?” Grandma Mary’s voice filled with hurt. Mom hugged her fiercely.
“No, Mom. I didn’t trust him.”
“Why?” I asked. “Is he dangerous?” I wondered if I should be worried.
My mom shook her head. “He would never hurt you, Meara. He loves you.”
“But he would take me away?” I asked, which made her frown.
“I don’t know.”
I reached behind them and sifted through the pictures on the bed. I found the small one I was looking for. I gave it to my mom.
“Is that him?” I asked, pointing to David in the picture Katie gave me.
“Yes,” Mom said. She traced his face with her finger, and then looked up at me with wide eyes. “Where did you get this?”
“Katie gave it to me.”
Mom nodded. “Lydia. I forgot she had this picture.”
“You said you don’t have any pictures of David. Is that true?” I asked. She gave me an assessing look, and then shook her head. She’d lied, another one to add to the recent list.
“May I see them?” I placed equal emphasis on each word. Calm, Meara. Stay calm, I told myself.
“Mom, do you mind if I talk to Meara alone?”
My grandmother looked surprised, but she nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you in the morning, girls.”
“Come with me, Meara.”
Once we were in her room, Mom went to her dresser and sifted through the contents in the top drawer. “Have a seat on the bed.”
I sat and waited. She returned with two photographs. Both were about the same size as the one Katie had given me. She handed me the one on top.
“Lydia took this one, too. On the same day.”
My mom and David laughed into the camera, their arms wrapped around each other.
“You look happy.”
“We were.”
“David looked like this in my dreams,” I said.
Mom frowned at me. “And you’re sure you never saw his picture before?”
“Where would I have seen it?” I asked. “You never showed me.”
She lowered the other picture so I could see. This one was just David. He looked at the camera the way he gazed at my mom in the dream.
“You took this one.”
She looked at me, surprised. “How’d you know?”
I took the picture and studied it. “Because I can tell he’s looking at you.”
“I loved him so much.” Mom spoke in barely a whisper, but I heard it. My anger dissolved in her sorrow. How hard had this all been for her? To be pregnant so young, and then raise a daughter all alone. The father of your child, the man that you loved, gone.
“Why did he leave?” That was the real question. I had yet to find a satisfactory answer.
“He had to,” she said. The same thing she always said.
“But why?”
She shook her head. “Only he can tell you that.”
“Why does he look only a few years older in my dreams?”
She took the photographs back and stood. “I don’t know, Meara. It’s only a dream.” She crossed to the dresser and put them away.
Why did she insist that it was just a dream? How could I possibly dream of a man I’d never met and have him look exactly the way he did seventeen years ago? Goose bumps rose on my arms. What was going on?
“I’m sorry, Meara.” When she turned back, she was crying again. “For keeping secrets. For keeping you from your grandparents. I did what I thought I had to do.”
“It’s okay, Mom.” I decided to keep my fear to myself for now. Mom was upset enough.
“It’s not,” she said. “But I hope you’ll forgive me.”
I stood and gave her a hug. She kissed my forehead.
“I love you, Meara.”
“Love you too, Mom.” I hadn’t said I forgive her, but she didn’t push. I wasn’t sure yet. There was too much I didn’t understand.