Homefires (13 page)

“What you doing?” His voice was soft, husky, tentative.

I got up off the bed and moved to stand toe to toe with him, my fingers playing with his shirt buttons. “I was just lying here thinking Lordy, imagine
us –
a preacher’s family.” I laughed then, a genuine belly one and we slid into each other’s joyful embrace.

Over his broad, strong shoulder, I glimpsed beyond the window a world clothed green by springtime and made vibrant by the sun. A new chord, with clear, precise harmony, struck inside me. Heck, I could handle this new role. Kirk would be happier than he’d ever been. And if Kirk was content, so was I.

CHAPTER SIX

 

Toby was born during Kirk’s second year at Bible College, trailing Anne’s infant daughter, Lynette, by eleven months. An adorable replica of Kirk, our son’s shock of blonde hair Mohawked for the first six months. He was, like Krissie, affable and resilient. Kirk’s resistance to having a
‘Kirk Junior
’ in the family stemmed from his movie star name. Its frivolity embarrassed him. He’d always liked the sound of “Toby” and so the name took.

We were so caught up in family and school and church that we seldom saw our old friends. Kirk heard Moose had joined the Air Force and was stationed in Japan. Occasionally, Callie wrote me a brief letter, telling me too little of what transpired in her life. It was sad, the wide gulf now separating all of us.

Grandma Whitman once said I was as readable “as a red bird in a snow storm.” So were Toby and Krissie, to the point that I knew what they were about in any given situation.

Heather’s genetic pool consisted heavily of her father’s legacy. Like Kirk’s, her face registered little of her true feelings as she grew older.

Early on, Toby and Krissie formed an alliance to breach Heather’s stealthy manipulative maneuvers. It was, I kept telling myself, an innate leadership thing built into my oldest child. Overheard now in play-likes was a subtle shift in roles, Heather still being “Mama,” while Toby – but a toddler, unable to follow Heather’s directions – became “Baby,” content to be hoisted from point to point by a huffing puffing petite Krissie, whose role shifted from
Daddy
to
maid
to whatever fit Heather’s whim of the moment.

I heard the front door open and shut. I dried off my hands at the sink just as footsteps approached the kitchen.

“Trish! What are you doing here this time of day? Didn’t you go to school?”

Then I noticed her swollen, red eyes. She’d lost the last fifteen pounds rather quickly and looked marvelously thin. Today, she looked haggard. “Honey,” I gathered her in my arms as she dissolved into tears. “What’s wrong? Come on, let’s sit down.”

I led her to the den couch and settled her, then lowered myself beside her. It was long moments before she could speak. “I-I couldn’t get to the bus stop this morning a-and—The sobs renewed, stronger this time.

“Hey, take your time, honey. I’ll get you some tea, okay?” The ritual gave her time to collect herself and by the time I set her iced beverage before her, she was able to talk.

“For some reason, I couldn’t get it together this morning – one of those anxiety spells, I suppose. Anyway, I wanted to catch the bus so badly, I took that shortcut across the field and my feet sunk into mud. All the way to my ankles. But I kept running anyway. I saw the bus sitting at the stop and was only about a fourth of a block away and so out of breath I thought I’d faint. Well,” she paused to take a drink of tea, “that smart aleck Tommy Jones pulled off and left me. I
know
he saw me.”

Poor Trish.
“That was snotty,” I snapped, like a true sister.

“Yeah. Anyway, when I got back home, I slipped off my shoes on the back porch and was trying to clean the mud off my ankles when Anne came into the bathroom.” She swallowed back sudden tears and my heart filled with dread.

“What happened?” I asked gently.

“Anne’s eyes got really – big? And she asked, ‘what are you doing here?’ And I said, ‘I missed my bus. I just can’t seem to do anything right this morning’ and,” she rolled her watery eyes, “I started crying. Next thing I knew it, she lit into me – slapped me twice across the face.”

I turned icy with shock. Anne? “Why?”

Trish gave me this sad little smile, kind of a pitying one. “I wish I knew, Sis.”

“Okay,” I said, standing. “You’re not going back. Not until something drastic changes things.”

Trish arose, too. “I’m glad you said that,” she declared in a voice I’d never heard her use before, “because I’d already decided not to go back. Can I stay with you, Sis?”

I embraced her and rocked her back and forth standing there in my den.

“My home is your home, Trish. It’s time you got away from whatever ails Anne.”

To say Daddy was angry would be grossly misleading. He was
furious.

When Trish refused to go home with him, he left in a huff. An hour later, my phone rang.

It was Daddy. “Trish knows it’s wrong for her to tear up our home like this, Neecy. And it’s wrong for you to condone it.”

I usually didn’t argue with Daddy but this was too much. “Do you want to hear what ‘wrong’ is, Daddy? I’ll tell you.” I proceded to share the things Trish had tearfully divulged over time. The last thing was an incident I’d repressed until after Trish moved in and reminded me of it.

“Remember that big gold-framed wall mirror Anne bought when you two married? It hung over the mantle. Well, Trish climbed up there to get a little hair ribbon she’d put there, hoping that by placing it there, it wouldn’t be moved and get lost. She used the same chair, a platform rocker, that she’d used before to reach the mantle, only this time, when she reached for the ribbon, the chair moved suddenly, throwing her forward, into the base of the mirror. I happened to be standing nearby and saw the mirror break loose and begin to fall. I dashed to get to Trish before the thing crashed over her head, killing or cutting her to ribbons. I whammed the frame and knocked it to the side as Trish hovered there, arms over her head, terrified as that darn thing hit the floor and crashed into a million pieces.”

“She began to cry and Anne rushed from the kitchen to see what had happened. I told Anne the mirror had nearly fell on Trish, but Anne just looked at that blasted pile of glass and turned on Trish. Know what she said, Dad? She said, ‘Just look what you’ve done to my mirror!’ and stalked away, disgusted.”

Daddy had grown deathly quiet. “I’m sorry, Daddy. You know I love you and Anne. She’s been great to me since Cole was born. He sort of bonded us, you could say. I don’t know what it is with her about Trish. But I can’t let you blame Trish
for what’s happened. Trish has never hurt a fly and she doesn’t deserve all this. Do you – ”

“What are you doing – ” Daddy’s angry voice rang out, cutting me off. “Wait a minute, Neecy,” he said disgustedly, “Anne’s on the war path. She’s been on the other phone, listening in on our conversation. I’ll get back with you.” The line went dead.

I looked at the receiver in my hand for long moments, then quietly laid it down.

Oh, well, whatever happened, I’d followed my heart.

And despite an almost certain estrangement from Anne, I felt peace.

My sister lived with us the last half of her senior year at Chapowee High. How we enjoyed each other! I’d gone over to Dad’s house right after Trish moved out, to get her clothes and Anne didn’t come to the door, though I knew she was there.

“Why did Anne act like she wasn’t home?” I asked Dad later when I called him at the barber shop. “I have no quarrel with her. I’d hoped we could go on as always.”

“She’s ashamed,” he said bluntly. “Anne knows she’s not treated Trish right. But I don’t think it really hit her
how
bad it was till she heard you telling me all of it on the phone.”

“I hate that I was the bearer of such but seems it couldn’t be helped. Tell Anne to please not avoid me. She just needs to square things with Trish, is all.”

“Yeah.” Daddy sounded sad. I knew how hard it had been for him to let Trish out of the tense situation but for once, he’d put her feelings ahead of his own.

“Are you going to drive with us when we take Trish to Spartanburg Methodist? She wants to check it out for the fall semester. She’s graduating in a month, you know.”

“Can’t believe my baby’s graduating high school,” he muttered, as forlorn as I’d ever heard him.

“Well, she is. You with us?”

“Yep. Count me in.”

We’d just finished supper that evening when Daddy walked in. “Have a seat, Daddy,” I said. “There’s still some steak and potatoes left.”

“Naw,” he said, “I came to get Trish.”

Trish’s face fell and she gaped at Daddy as though he’d lost his senses. “I don’t
want
to go back there, Daddy.”
Spunky,
I thought, feeling warmed by it.
It’s about time.

“Trish,” Daddy said imploringly, “meet us half way. Anne promised she’d treat you better. She really is ashamed, Trish. It’s hard for her to say it, but I know her. She is. And when she promises something, she comes across. She’s changed. Won’t miss a Sunday church service, even if I don’t go.” I had to believe Dad because usually, he relayed the worst about Anne.