September Again (September Stories) (8 page)

“Liz, she’s fine. She’s okay. Zelda’s a teenager. Everything will change one day. Her grades are remarkable. Vanderbilt has already accepted the dissertation for her Ph.D. She is one of the few undergrads to ever achieve such an honor.”

Liz knows what Zelda's choice of subject will be: Indie Shadwick. Indie, Indie, always Indie Shadwick. Days turn into nights and the nights get longer and darker. Liz's desperate calls to Marlowe increase as Zelda lambastes her on Facebook and unleashes a swarm of hostile tweets about her. She cannot believe she's being bullied by her own daughter; worse, that it is actually getting to her, deeply and harshly. Her pain is real. Day and night become one blur of pain. Liz’s frantic calls to Marlowe increase.

“She just won't come to the phone, hon. I’m sorry
, Liz. She’s doing well. She sees your parents or me at least every other weekend. Zelda is becoming very popular in her own right; she’s not simply riding on Jack’s coattails.”

“Does she even ask about me? Does she ever say she wants to return to England?”

The lull on the phone line breaks Liz’s heart. She knows it was more than a transatlantic connection.

“No, Liz
, honey. She never even asks about you. Please give her time. It’s just a phase. As she grows older, she will change.”

Liz’s sobs unnerve Marlowe. Why does she have to be in such misery? But, there
is nothing to do but watch over Zelda until she changes her mind and reconciles with her mother. Otherwise, Zelda would be lost to both Liz
and
Marlowe.

Liz
attempts to run but only makes it to the end of the long drive leading to Nook Manor. She tries working in the garden, but it only reminds her of Jack. She thinks of the walks she and Zelda would take after Jack’s death and how Zelda always wanted to share secrets. She had dreams that Jack was still there. “Mummy, we can’t see him, but he sees us.” Zelda told her over and over.

Zelda’s puppy
, Spot, is long gone and buried in the garden. So many memories of happy and bittersweet times. Only, this time is the saddest Liz has ever known.

Malachy and
her neighbor from the closest farm to Nook Manor, Mrs. T, found another stray that someone named Henry. Depending on the day, he is either Harry or Henry. He was such a rambunctious little thing. Only he didn’t stay little very long. In a matter of two months, he became a strapping big black wolfhound. He loves Liz, but his bond is with Malachy, which suits Liz. She has no desire to love anything else that would eventually abandon her.

She
knows her depression is back and as severe as ever. Dr. Mc will continue to keep her on the meds when she returns to see him in a few months. Nothing will change. Day becomes night and becomes day again. The spiral continues and she reaches utter despair, praying daily that her daughter be safe. Zelda’s safety is even more important to her than hearing from her. But, every night, when Liz sees the first twinkling star, her wish is always
please have Zelda connect with me soon
.

The dreams return of the Cherokee warrior
, along with a new and worrying nightmare of Zelda harming herself. Liz no longer has Jack to comfort her following the frightful dreams. She calls Marlowe the next day to ensure that Zelda is all right.

“She’s doing so well
, Liz. You should be really proud of her. Zelda is becoming a beautiful young woman. She continues to be in the top of her class at Vandy. She is even working out and losing weight like you would not believe. Life here suits her. She’ll come around, I promise you.”

“Marlowe, I can’t take much more
,” Liz sobs into the telephone.

“Liz, sweetheart. Zelda isn’t like you or me. She is the only child of a very famous man. We have to allow her to find her own voice. It’s just a matter of time. Think of it this way
: once Zelda outgrows this, she will discover how very wise her own mother is and come running back to you. She is strong and independent, Liz. To you, she is still that little girl. But, Zelda is all grown up and slowly becoming an intellectual force to be reckoned with. It will be okay, Liz. Not today and not tomorrow, but someday.”

Those words. Where have I heard those words?

“Okay, Marlowe, I’ll try to be strong and hold on a little longer. I just never knew it was possible to miss someone so very much. Zelda is all I have left of Jack.”

“You have your memories, Liz. If Jack were here, you would be traveling. Have you thought of anything like that? Maybe get involved in one of the community groups in your village. What about a book club? There are online book clubs now. You won’t even have to leave Nook Manor.
Is the BBC still planning that documentary about Jack’s life? Maybe you could throw yourself into that.'”

Liz
knows Marlowe is right, but she has no energy for attempting anything new. Just getting up before noon has become an issue. Focusing to read is a challenge as well. Her spiral into darkness continues.

She
dreams of Jack. Sometimes, he will appear and just pull up a chair and sit down and chat. She can never remember the specifics of the dreams, just that she sees him again. Once, she asked if he remembers her. This dream she does recall.
Of course I remember you. How could I ever forget you?
he says. Then, he pulls her into his strong, comforting arms and kisses her as he had a million times.

Waking up with tears running down her face, Liz openly
cries into her own pillow. Nothing will ever be the same. She has lost Jack. She has been abandoned by her daughter. She is ready to cross the abyss to join her grandfather, her brother, and Jack. The Cherokee warrior will guide her. That must be why he has returned to her dreams.

There
is only one thing to be done. She has to leave Zelda a part of her legacy. Malachy found a few new poems from Jack only a few days ago, along with some never before seen pictures of Jack with Indie on one of their trips across Europe. Liz can pull herself together long enough to get the message to Zelda that she has something for her. Something new from Jack. She can be that Strong American Woman long enough to do that for their beautiful daughter.

~ ~
~

Halfway around the world at her weekend getaway condo in Chattanooga, Tennessee, Zelda awakens, bathed in sweat. It is late morning. She gets up and wanders from room to room. She takes her sleeping meds and takes down the picture of Walnut Street Bridge from its place in the kitchen. Meds and memories. She's cold, but past caring.

She picks up a small Kitchen Devil knife with a black handle and eyes the steely blade. She rests the blade upon the skin of her wrist and sees Indie walking down the train track. The train hurtles into her. Red mist. All over. The knife falls from her hand and clatters over the cold tiles of her silent kitchen. She sees what she recognizes from pictures as an ancient Cherokee
warrior looking in from the window.
Have you come for me? Have you?
She covers her eyes and finds he's gone when she looks again.
Was never there. Was there. Never there. Was, was, was, is.
She runs up to her bedroom, throws herself onto her bed, and pulls the covers over the desolation her life has become. Meds and memories of what could've been or what should’ve been. Meds and nothing.

S
kyler and Jazz gaze at Nook Manor.
It’s a long way from London, long way from anywhere
, thinks Sky. Can this really be it? Are they really there? Neither can quite believe it. Jazz checks out the name on the brass plate on a brick post with a built-in intercom. Very efficient. Yep, they are definitely at their destination. Without either of them lifting a finger, the ancient wrought iron gates – a latticework of scrolls and circles – begins to glide noiselessly open.

“Think we’re expected?” says Jazz.

“After you,” says Sky.

“No
. After you. I insist.”

“Smile
, dykie-love-bitch, you’re on CCTVee-hee. Big brother surveillance is here today and here to stay.”

The gates close behind them as soon as they’ve crossed the
threshold. As yet, they cannot see the house, just a long avenue of ancient oaks, some now little more than broken hulks as wide as they are tall.

“So this is where retired mafia hit men come to die,”
says Sky, nodding at an especially squat tree hulk.

“The things you
say. No wonder you only got low grades in school.”

“Shuddit.”

“Or else? Will you fuck me like a diesel weasel?”

“I might just.”

“Promises. I wonder what Indie would have made of this place.”

“Yeah, shame none of us will ever know.”

“He owed it all to her, you know. Jack Savage.”

“Yeah, didn’t he just.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Quite excited
, actually. I can’t believe we are actually doing this.”

“
Me either.”

“Neither.”

“What?”

“Me neither.”

“Are you editing my conversation again?”

“Someone has to.”

“Yeah, right. Long way from London.”

“Don’t keep saying that!”

“Sorry.”

“
Focus. We’re here for Indie.”

“And Zeld
a.”

“Exac
tly. We will take no shit from her old slapper mother, whatever she is – Miss Havisham newbie retro sub-type.”

“We’ll get nowhere if you talk to her like that.”

“Do you really think she’ll tell us anything we don’t know?”

“Why we’re here.”

“Yeah.”

Nook Manor reveals itself between the trees.

“Wowza, spookeee or what?”

“So that’s what ‘an eight-bayed Jacobean confection’ is all about.
It looks like old cake icing.”

“What?”

“It’s what it said online. I looked it up on my phone on the train. The core of the house is much older. It’s all front.”

“Just like you.”

“Shuddit.”

“Oh
, bugger, look what’s coming!”

“Jesus, what kind of dog is that?”

“Looks like a firkin’ lion to me.”

“
What the ...”

“Shall we run?”

“No way. It’ll think we’re scared.”

“We are scared.”

They start to run towards the trees.

“Shit, it’s
... Hound … of … the … Baskervilles country down here.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have come.”

WUUFFFF! GRRRR-WUUF-WUUF!

“OH MY G
AWD!”

Harry, Malachy’s super-sized
wolfhound, bounds up to Skyler like the amber-eyed incubus from hell and places his giant paws on her round shoulders – the better to lick her face with his foot-long pink tongue. Sky, for her part, falls for him, literally, tumbling onto something soft and sticky.

RRRRR-RRRR-RRR!
whines Harry, his hairy tail flailing wildly.

“It’s al
l right; he won’t bite!” yells Malachy, speeding up on a battered old quad-bike. “Sorry about that. Are you all right? Down, boy!”

Jazz is bent double, wheezing with laughter. Sky jumps up and pushes her. Jazz, helpless, falls over in the grass.

“Sorry, we don’t get many visitors down here. He gets a bit carried away with himself. I’m Malachy.”

The girls look at each other in awe.

“Did you ever meet Indie?” says Jazz, back on message.

“No.”

“How come?”

“Erm, do you
mind?”

“Sorry about that,” says Skyler, holding out her hand. “She can’t help it. She’s worse than me.” She flashes Jazz one of those looks.

“I’ll take you to the house,” says Malachy. “Liz, Mrs. Savage, is expecting you.”

Even Harry seems to fall into line at the mention of Mrs
. Savage as the group walks slowly to the house in silence. Serious business is on hand, it seems. Sky and Jazz are, for once, quelled by the moment of the moment.

“The inner sanctum of poetry, kiddo,” whispers Sky to Jazz
, who nods a tiny, tic-like nod.

Liz is waiting for them in the hall, one hand resting o
n a circular Cuban mahogany table, circa 1780. She’s having one of her good days. The voices she’s been hearing since the skunk have been sulking for a week now, although she knows they’ll be back – but not today. She’s all in black, looking beautiful, actually. Yes, she’s made an effort – wearing the jet necklace and earrings Jack bought her on a trip to Whitby. Her book group had been reading A.S. Byatt’s
Possession
and so he’d taken her there on a whim.