Once Beyond a Time (29 page)

Saturday, April 12, 1969

I
’VE BEEN BAKING
since 5:00 a.m. It’s nearly 7:00 now, and the two circular layers of cake are cooling while I mix up the frosting. Chocolate, of course. Chocolate cake and chocolate frosting. I eye the box of candles on the kitchen counter, and as I stir the frosting, I ask myself again what I’ve been asking myself since I awoke:
Why am I doing this? Have I finally completely lost my mind?

But I will frost this cake, and I will put the candles in it. I will do it because of what I’ve resolved. As long as the star shows up, I’ll hold on to hope. When the star no longer appears, I’ll give up. I don’t know what the star means, but it must mean
something
. And as long as it shines, I’ll know that this isn’t finished yet. There’s something else.

I wonder whether Sheldon remembers. Surely he does. Maybe that’s why he didn’t look well when he came home from work yesterday. Maybe that’s why he went straight to his room and stayed there. When supper was ready I found him lying on his bed with one arm thrown over his face. “I’m not hungry,” he said. “I’m sorry. You go ahead and eat without me.”

“Are you sick?” I asked.

He seemed to have to think about that for a long time. Finally he said, “Yes.” Just that, nothing more.

“Can I get you anything? Some aspirin or Pepto Bismol?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t think anything will help. I just need … time.”

“Time?”

“To rest. I’ll be all right.”

I never saw his eyes. He didn’t lift his arm from his face. I closed the door quietly when I left.

The cake isn’t quite cool enough to be frosted. I pour myself another cup of coffee and sit down in one of the rocking chairs to wait. I find myself wishing Celeste would show up. It would be nice to talk with her. I find it restful to be with one who is just “spending time.”

I sip the coffee and rock quietly. I shut my eyes and rest my head against the rim of the rocker. Digger’s face rises up in my memory, as real as if he were here. I feel him as though he were solid. Time diminishes nothing. My heart aches with fresh longing, but also with fresh hope. Hope is unseen and tenuous, but at the same time more solid than flesh, stronger than bone. I find it’s what holds me together. More than that, this hope—from wherever it may be coming—tells me everything is happening as it should.

Footsteps approach. I open my eyes thinking I’ll see Celeste but it’s Sheldon. He enters the kitchen still wearing the shirt and slacks he was wearing last night. His hair is disheveled, his face dark with a day’s worth of stubble. He looks as though he hasn’t slept all night.

“Sheldon?” I say.

He sits in the rocker across from me and sighs heavily. He looks down at his hands, clasped together between his knees. I feel my pulse quicken.

“What is it, Sheldon?”

He lifts his eyes to me; they are red-rimmed and bloodshot. “I saw Charlene,” he says.

The cup in my hand trembles so violently, coffee spills over into the lap of my housedress. “Where? When?”

“Yesterday. She just showed up at the lot.”

“Why? What did she want?”

“She had a child with her, Meg.”

“A child?”

“A baby.”

An iciness takes hold of me. I shiver. “What are you saying, Sheldon?”

“She claims the baby’s mine.”

I feel as though I’m falling, though in fact I’m rising and walking, weak-kneed, to the sink. I drop the cup and saucer into it, china clinking against the porcelain. Both hands clutch the edge of the sink for support. “Do you think she’s telling you the truth?”

“Yes.” The rocking chair squeaks as Sheldon rises out of it. “I believe the boy is mine.”

“Boy?”

“Yes, the child’s a boy.”

I hear myself wail, one sharp cry of grief climbing up my throat. It is a year ago all over again, only this time the anger is deeper and the pain is worse. Unfaithfulness is one thing, but a child …

My eyes fall to the cake, the bowl of frosting. With trembling fingers I grasp the spatula and angrily spread frosting over one layer of the cake.

“I’m sorry, Meg,” Sheldon says, so quietly I almost don’t hear him.

“Do you know what today is?” I ask. Tears are streaming down my face. I keep my back to Sheldon so he doesn’t see.

“Yes, I know.”

“Digger is nine years old.”

“Yes.”

I lift the second layer of cake and put it on top of the first, drop a mountain of frosting on it. “And now you’re telling me you have a son with Charlene.”

He doesn’t answer. I sense him drawing closer, and then his hand is on my shoulder. “Meg,” he says.

“Don’t touch me.” I pull away.

“Meg, please, I—”

“So, now you have someone to take the place of Digger?”

“No, Meg, no. Never.”

The grass outside grows dark with shadow; a cloud must have passed across the sun. I wipe my tears with a dishcloth and take several deep breaths. “What will you do now?” I ask, still not looking at him. “Do you intend to leave me for Charlene, now that there’s a child?”

“No, Meg. I don’t intend to leave you. I’ll pay child support, but that’s all.”

I think about that a moment, consider the strain it will put on our already depleted pocketbook. My anger is a hard knot in my chest. “How much?”

“How much what?”

“How much will you pay every month?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to talk with her lawyer.”

“And what did Charlene say?”

“She … she thought I should know about the boy, but she knows my place is here.”

I swing around, look Sheldon in the eye. “Is it?”

“I hope so, Meg,” he whispers. His eyes are wide and full of fear. “I have no desire to leave. Unless you want me to.”

I turn away, finish frosting the cake. I have nothing to say to him that will take away his fear. Pulling nine candles out of the box, I plant them on top of the cake. “I’ll never forgive you, Sheldon,” I say.

The room is so quiet, I can hear Sheldon breathing. Finally, he says, “I understand. I won’t ask it of you.”

His footsteps in the hall tell me he has left.

I begin to sob, tears dripping on the cake. My offering to my son, baptized with sorrow.

Monday, April 14, 1969

T
HIS MORNING
, M
OM
and Dad called me into the living room with this look on their faces that told me something really bad had happened. I’m thinking maybe they finally found Digger’s body, or what’s left of it, but it had nothing to do with Digger.

So, you remember Charlene, don’t you?
they asked.

“Um, sure,” I said, but I’m thinking, you’ve got to be kidding, right? Like I’m so stupid I would forget Mom’s cousin, someone who lived with us for I don’t know how long. Someone who’s the reason we came down here and set up camp in boonie land. Oh yeah, I remember Charlene, all right.

Well, she’s had a baby. Dad’s baby. He’s your brother.

I had to leave for school in ten minutes, and they think it’s a good time to tell me I have a baby brother? I couldn’t believe it. I mean, talk about proof that one of your parents has been fooling around. A baby adds a whole new dimension to the picture. But it kind of explains why Dad’s looked like death warmed over all weekend, walking around like he just stepped out of the morgue. Mom hasn’t exactly been in a good mood either. I should have figured something was up.

“So, what, is he going to come live with us or something?” I asked.

“No,” Dad said. And he didn’t waste so much as a second in saying it. “Charlene will raise him.”

“So he’s got nothing to do with us, right?”

“Well, in a sense, no, but we thought you should know about him.”

Yeah, well, I think I’d rather not have known, thank you very much. I mean, the whole idea of it is enough to give me the creeps. Mom’s cousin is the mother of my brother? Sheesh! That’s got to be some kind of incest going on, isn’t it? And even if it isn’t, it’s kind of like Dad’s cheating is carved in stone now. We’ll never be able to sweep it under the rug and forget about it.

I asked, “So what’s the kid’s name?” and that’s when things got really weird. Evidently Mom hadn’t bothered to ask, and Dad acted like he didn’t want to tell us. He wouldn’t look either of us in the eye. “Well,” I finally said, “didn’t Charlene tell you his name?”

“Yes, she did,” he said. And then he kind of mumbled, “The boy’s name is Gavan.”

“Gavan?” Mom said, and her eyes got real big.

And I asked, “Isn’t that the name of the guy you see around here who’s living in the twenty-first century?”

Dad nodded. Still wouldn’t look us in the eye. “It doesn’t mean they’re one and the same. The last name of the Gavan I see in this house is Valdez, not McMurphy.”

So? Charlene probably snags herself a husband somewhere along the way. Why shouldn’t his name be Valdez? Hopefully he’s not a loser like you, Daddy-o.

I didn’t say that out loud, but I was thinking it. And from the look in Mom’s eyes, my guess is she was thinking it too.

Good going, Dad. You have an affair, so we come down here to this godforsaken place, and next thing we know Digger disappears. Just when we think it can’t get any worse, you tell us you have a son with your lover, who happens to be Mom’s younger cousin. Well, that’s just great.
Something tells me you’re not going to be winning the Husband of the Year award this time around, huh?

I sure don’t feel like being at school today. I wish I could go somewhere and get quietly and thoroughly drunk.

I drive into the student parking lot, find a space, and cut the engine. Instead of getting out of the car, I’m going to sit here for just a minute to try to pull myself together. The bell’s going to ring any minute now, but I don’t even care if I’m late. Wish I had a cigarette. A person can only handle so much. I don’t want a baby brother. I want Digger back.

Okay, get it together now, grab your books and move. Pretend like everything’s honky-dory, like your life is as good as everyone else’s. Right, that’ll be the day.

Get out of the car. That’s it. Get out and start walking. Try to get through the day without having a nervous breakdown.

“Hey, Linda! Wait up!”

I recognize the voice. Gail is running up behind me.

“Hi, Gail,” I say, hoping I sound nonchalant.

She’s out of breath by the time she reaches me. “Listen,” she says, “I’ve got some bad news.”

You too? Well, it can’t be any worse than mine, though I’m sure as heck not going to tell you
my
bad news. “What is it?” I ask. I frown like I’m trying to look concerned.

“Bim’s in the hospital,” she says. “He had a heart attack.”

I stop and stare at her. Now I really
am
concerned. “When?”

“Saturday,” she says. She pushes her hair out of her eyes and shifts her books from one arm to the other. “I’d have called you, but I’ve been at the hospital most of the time and I’ve been too scared to do anything more than just sit and wait.”

“Is he going to be all right?”

She shakes her head. “Yeah, they said as heart attacks go it was pretty mild. But he’s going to need a lot of rest.”

“What happened?”

Her eyes get wide. “That’s the really weird thing, Linda. You’re not going to believe it. He—”

Inside we hear the bell ring. Gail makes a move like she’s going to go in, but I grab her arm and hold on. “What happened?”

“He was looking for your brother.”

“What? He was looking for Digger? What do you mean?”

“He kept saying his brother didn’t listen to him. He said Mac promised not to go out looking for gold, but he did it anyway. One summer when they were down here, Mac climbed up into the mountains and fell into a mineshaft somewhere. Grandpa said that’s what killed Mac. He thought maybe Digger had fallen into the same shaft. So the old fool went walking up into the mountains and wore himself out.”

“Did he find the mine? What was there? What’d he find?”

“Nothing. He found the mine all right, but Digger wasn’t in it. After that, he just came home and keeled over. Mom had to call for an ambulance, and they hauled him off to the hospital. I swear, Linda, I thought he was going to die. Crazy old guy, going up in the mountains like that.”

She’s shaking her head and telling me to hurry up and get to class, but my mind is already somewhere else. It’s with Austin, wherever he is right at this minute. My heart’s squeezed up tight because I’m not seeing Bim; I’m seeing Austin, going up into the mountains, looking for my brother. I’d have loved him—I know that for sure—if we’d shared the same time. If only we’d shared the same time. I’d have grown old with him, and who knows, maybe if I was old too I wouldn’t be so creeped out by him. I’d still love him, and we’d be old together, and it’d be all right.

“Can I visit him?” I have to holler because Gail’s already on the front steps of the school.