Finding Noel (19 page)

“My
real
sister.”

Just then a shrill screech came from the hallway. “Bart!” A sardonic smile crossed Bart's face as if to say
See what I put up with?
Not thirty seconds later it came again with the same intensity. “Bart!”

“What!” he shouted back.

“Who's there?”

He looked at Macy. “She's really on one today. It's one of her migraine days. You sure you want to see her?”

“I'm sure I
don't
want to. But I need to.”

“Okay.” He stood. “C'mon.”

They walked to the door at the end of the darkened hallway. Bart opened the door slightly, stepping into the shadow
of the room. The light was off and the blinds were drawn. Macy slipped in behind him.

“Who's here?” Irene asked. Her voice was low and grating. All Macy could make out was a large mass in the bed. The top of the mass turned. “Who's that with you?”

“It's Macy.”

“Who?”

“Macy. Your daughter.”

The mass didn't move. “What does it want?”

“Why don't you ask her?”

Macy moved closer to the bed. She could now make out the woman underneath the blankets. Irene had gained at least fifty pounds, and Macy was surprised to see how much she had aged in the years since she left. Macy spoke calmly. “I came to see if you know where my sister Noel is.”

The woman reached over and took a drink from a glass on the nightstand. She choked on it. After she stopped gagging, she said, “Why would I know that?”

“Because you know who her adopted parents are.”

Irene sniffed a little. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I need to know what their last name is.” Irene again reached for her glass and took another drink, followed by an even greater eruption of coughing. She wiped her mouth with her arm. “Where you been?”

“I need to know what Noel's parents' name is.”

“Can't help you,” she said, turning over.

Macy exhaled in frustration. Bart approached the bed. “Tell her, mother.”

“I won't,” she said, sounding absurdly childish.

“Tell her now.”

Mrs. Hummel said nothing.

“Okay. I'm calling.” He walked to the phone and lifted the receiver. “I should have done this months ago.” He pressed several numbers on the keypad.

“Wait, don't,” Irene said. There was panic in her voice.

“Then tell her.”

The woman's anxiety was palpable.

“Better hurry, it's ringing.”

“It's Thorup,” she bleated.

“Thorup?” Bart echoed.

“He's a lawyer. Lived up in one of them fancy rich neighborhoods on the mountain.”

Bart hung up the phone.

“Are you sure?” Macy asked.

“Course I'm sure,” she said bitterly. “You don't forget a name like Thorup. Sounds like ‘throw up.'”

Macy just shook her head, then looked over at Bart. “Thank you.” She walked to the door.

“Where you going?!” Irene shouted.

“Home,” Macy said.

Bart followed her out to the front porch. Macy stopped to talk to him. “Thanks for your help.”

“Least I could do. You okay?”

“Yeah.” She cocked her head. “Who were you calling?”

“Actually no one. But she thought I was calling the old folks home. It's like a cattle prod. I just keep threatening to
have her sent away. Sometimes it's the only way to get her to do something.” He frowned. “It had to be hard for you… coming back here.”

“I thought it would be worse. You know, you build some people up in your mind, and they become powerful and frightening. When I saw her lying there, all I felt was pity.”

“I'm sorry about how she treated you. How we all treated you.”

Macy looked at him thoughtfully. “You've grown up.”

Bart smiled but didn't reply.

“Where's Ronny and Sheryl?”

“Ron got married and joined the army. He's stationed in Maryland. Sheryl got married too, but she's already divorced. She lives in Boulder with her little boy.”

“What about you? What are you up to?”

“I mow my lawns. In the winter I push snow. And between that I take care of Mom.”

“Lucky you.”

“Someone's gotta do it. But it's not all bad. She keeps to her room most the time. It's free rent and she's got cable.” He rubbed his nose. “I don't think she'll be around much longer. Doctor says she has early-onset old-timers; half the time she don't know where she is. You're lucky you asked her before she forgot.”

“I guess I am.” Macy leaned forward and for the first time in her life, she and her brother hugged. “Take care, Bart.”

“You too.”

Macy stepped down the sidewalk. When she got to the curb, Bart shouted after her.

“Hey.”

She turned.

“Don't be a stranger. Come 'round sometime.”

Macy managed a half smile. “You take care of yourself.” She walked to her car, and for the first time she truly left the Hummels behind.

Tonight Macy fell asleep in my arms. I'm not sure that Heaven could be anything more than that.

MARK SMART'S DIARY

I was waiting for Macy when she got home. We sat together on the couch, the room dark except for the dancing indigo glow of the television. We weren't as interested in the show as we were in holding each other. At the end of the program I shut off the television, leaving the room completely dark and momentarily silent. Macy snuggled into me.

“Mark, I'm scared,” she said softly.

“Of what?”

“Of finding her.” More silence. “You know, I feel like I've come all this way to stop a foot in front of the finish line. I don't know if I can do this.”

Just then the grandmother's clock in the entryway struck one, followed by a Winchester chime. When the sound dissipated, I said. “Are you afraid that she won't care?”

She took a deep breath. “What if she doesn't?”

“I don't know.” I ran my fingers back through her hair. “But do you know what would be worse?”

“What?”

“If she had been waiting for you her whole life and you never went because you were afraid.”

She was quiet a long time. “You're pretty smart sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Just sometimes.”

I pulled her in closer, then lightly tickled her back with my hand. When Joette came home, Macy was asleep on my chest.

I have never felt truly at ease around the clean, shiny people of this world. Life has taught me the most trustworthy and honest are usually those who are frayed around the edges. Not always but usually.

MARK SMART'S DIARY

It wasn't hard for Macy to find the Thorups' address. There were only two Thorups in the Salt Lake Valley and only one on the East Side. Still, it was two more days, the day before Thanksgiving, before Macy was ready to see Noel.

The Thorups lived in a well-groomed development of upper-middle-class homes—a demographic of soccer moms and luxury automobiles. Macy had never driven to this part of Salt Lake before. The snow on the ground was substantially deeper than in the valley, and the plows had left snow-banks in front of the homes more than a yard high in some places.

The Thorup home was at the end of a cul-de-sac lined with tall winter-barren trees that overhung the street. Macy rechecked the address, then parked her car in front of the house. She climbed out of her car and stared at the home in awe.

Noel lived in a two-story French chateau with a stone and glazed-stucco façade. Near the front door was a turret that rose nearly thirty feet and was capped with a weathered verdigris-copper roof and finial. The garage alone was bigger than Macy's home, she thought, and it made her happy to
think her sister had grown up in such a palace. It was the most beautiful house she'd ever seen.

The yard was edged with flat-trimmed shrubs. There were plastic reindeer on the front lawn and even though it was daytime, the Christmas lights had been left on. A Volvo station wagon with the dealer's paper license plate still in the back window sat in the cobblestone driveway.