Читать книгу What We Remember - Michael Thomas Ford - Страница 17

1991

“Mom, I need to talk to you about something.”

Ada looked at her daughter. Celeste had arrived only minutes before. James was still asleep, and she had no idea where Billy was, but she was making breakfast anyway. It gave her something to do. She’d been up since four and was tired of the novel she’d been reading, so she’d finally gotten up and come downstairs.

“What about?” she asked Celeste.

“Dad,” Celeste replied.

“I don’t see that there’s anything to talk about,” Ada told her. “Not until Nate comes up with something.” She had, since the day before, accepted the truth about her husband. They had found his body. This was upsetting, but there was nothing she could do about it. What was done, was done. Now she just had to let things play out as they would.

“I don’t mean about finding him,” Celeste explained. “I want to ask you about something that happened a little before he disappeared.”

Ada turned up the heat under the griddle. “Well, ask then,” she said.

Celeste looked uncomfortable. Ada, keeping her eye on the pancakes on the griddle, waited for her to continue. Finally Celeste said, “One night I came home late. I heard you and Dad talking in the kitchen. Arguing, actually.”

Ada turned one of the pancakes over. “What were we arguing about?” she asked, examining the bottom of the pancake to see if it was truly done. “Probably money. Seems like we were always arguing about money.”

“No, it wasn’t money,” Celeste said. “It was about a woman.”

Ada turned around. “A woman?” she said, and laughed. “Why on earth would we be arguing about a woman?”

“That’s what I was hoping you could tell me,” said Celeste. “It sounded to me like you were accusing him of having an affair.”

Ada returned her attention to the stove, where the first pancakes were almost ready to come off. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” she said. “Your father never had an affair.”

“I didn’t think so,” said Celeste. She sounded relieved. “But I distinctly remember you saying something like ‘I see the way you look at her.’ Also, I heard you crying in your room later that night.”

Ada slid the spatula under a pancake and transferred it to the waiting plate. “Well, you were a regular little Nancy Drew, weren’t you?” she remarked.

“Mom, I’m serious,” Celeste countered. “I know I’m not making it up. I was right outside the kitchen. I heard what you said.”

Ada added two more pancakes to the plate, then took it to the table. Setting it in front of her daughter she said, “And what were you doing coming in so late? Let me guess—out with Paul Lunardi? I never did like that boy.”

“Well, yes,” Celeste admitted. “I was. But that’s not what we’re talking about. I want to know who you and Dad were arguing about.”

“We weren’t arguing about a woman, I can tell you that,” Ada said. “Your father was as faithful as a hunting dog. I don’t know what you heard, but you heard wrong. Which is what you get for snooping around in the first place.”

She went to the cupboard and returned with a container of brown sugar, which she set on the table. Then she opened the refrigerator and took out a bright yellow plastic lemon. “As I recall, you and your brothers prefer this to maple syrup,” she said as she handed the lemon to Celeste.

Celeste smiled at her. “That’s right,” she said as she spooned brown sugar onto her pancakes. Then she removed the cap on the lemon and squeezed juice onto the sugar, which melted and formed a sticky glaze. “I forget why we started eating them this way.”

“I don’t remember either,” Ada said. “Probably some foolish idea of your father’s. All I know is that once you started I couldn’t get you to go back to plain old syrup.”

Celeste took a bite of pancake and made a face. “Too much lemon juice,” she said, reaching for the brown sugar.

Ada resumed cooking. James should be down in a minute, she thought. He’ll save me from this foolishness. She hoped that Celeste had forgotten the initial topic of conversation, or would at least be distracted enough by the pancakes so that Ada could change the subject. The current one was not to her liking.

“I’m sorry I brought up the thing about Dad,” Celeste said from behind her. “I guess I must have heard wrong.”

“That’s all right,” said Ada, relieved. “It was late. You were tired. Who knows what we were arguing about.”

There was a long pause. Ada heard the click of a fork against Celeste’s plate and the sound of chewing. She concentrated on making more pancakes. She already had a dozen stacked on the plate. If James doesn’t get down here soon, these are going to be cold, she thought. I should go wake him up.

“Mom, have you thought about who might have wanted to kill…to see Dad dead?” Celeste asked.

“Of course I have,” Ada answered. “What do you think I spent most of the night doing?”

She lifted the last pancake from the griddle and put it on the plate, which she in turn slipped into the oven. She turned the temperature to low so that the pancakes would stay warm. She hoped they wouldn’t dry out. Then she sat down at the table.

“And what did you come up with?” Celeste asked.

“Nothing,” said Ada. “Apart from the usual suspects. The people he put away. Any one of them could have done it. I think we have to assume it was one of them.”

“You don’t think it could be anyone he knew?”

“Who do we know that could do something like that?” Ada snapped. She knew she sounded angry, and she laid her hand on Celeste’s. “I’m sorry. It’s just that the idea of anyone we know doing such a thing…” Her voice trailed off as she found it impossible to say just how much the thought upset her.

“I know,” said Celeste. “This sounds horrible, but I preferred thinking that he killed himself. At least having cancer is a reason.”

“It was selfish of him,” Ada said. She was surprised to hear herself say it. She had thought it often enough, but she’d never said anything like it in the presence of her children. Now that she had, though, she found herself continuing. “He robbed us. I could have taken care of him. He took that away from me.”

Celeste put her fork down and looked at her mother with an unreadable expression. “I never knew you felt like this,” she said.

Ada stood up. She didn’t want her daughter looking at her the way she was. She didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her. “Well, I do,” she said. “For a long time I hated him for what he did. I couldn’t understand it, even with the letter. Now, well, I just feel, I don’t know—guilty—I guess. For being mad at him all those years.”

“Oh, Mom,” Celeste said. “Don’t. Don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t know. None of us knew.”

“No,” Ada said. “I suppose we didn’t. But I can’t help what I feel.” She took a dishrag from a hook beside the sink and began to wipe the counter. “I just have to live with it,” she said.

“Good morning.”

Ada turned to see James standing in the doorway. He was dressed and looked freshly showered. For a moment she thought she was looking at a young version of Daniel, the resemblance was so close. When James stepped forward to give her a hug, she recoiled as if from a ghost. But when he touched her, the spell broke and she was once again looking at her son. She smiled and said, “Sit down. I made you pancakes.”

James accepted a plate from her. “Any sign of Billy?” he asked as he began to eat.

“No,” Ada said. “I thought he might be in his room. He stays here sometimes when he thinks I need looking after.”

“More like when he needs looking after,” Celeste commented. “He’s got his own place,” she informed James. “Over on Larson, above the liquor store.”

“How convenient,” James remarked.

“Now you two stop talking about your brother that way,” Ada demanded. “He’s a good boy. He’s just a little troubled is all.”

She saw Celeste raise one eyebrow, but no retort followed. She was angry again, at James and Celeste for speaking about Billy the way they were, and at Billy for not being there. She liked it when they were all together, even if the children didn’t always get along as well as she would like. They were still a family, after all, and they needed to stick together. Especially now, she thought.

“I’ll swing by his place later and see if he’s around,” James said. “First I want to talk to Nate.”

“About what?” Celeste asked.

“The case,” said James. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”

“Sure,” Celeste said. “But you might want to let him come to you.”

“Why?” asked James.

Celeste stood up and took her plate to the sink. Ada watched as she ran water over it and set it in the plastic dishpan. As soon as Celeste moved away, Ada took up the plate and washed it properly, with soap and a sponge.

“Look,” Celeste said to James. “Try to remember that Nate’s in charge here, okay?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said James, clearly irritated.

“It means don’t walk in there acting all Mr. Big Shot,” Celeste explained.

Ada rinsed the plate and set it in the drainer. As she folded the dishtowel James turned in his chair to look at her. “What is she talking about?” he asked.

Ada shook her head. “I’m not getting in the middle of this,” she said. “You two work it out. I’ve got things to do.”

She left her children in the kitchen and went upstairs to her bedroom. Shutting the door, she sat on the edge of the bed. On the dresser was a photograph of Daniel, smiling and young. It had been taken not long after their wedding, while they were vacationing in Maine.

“What are you looking at?” she demanded of the picture.

Celeste had upset her more than she’d let on. Much more. She’d lied to her daughter. Of course she remembered that night. She remembered every word of the argument, and could have reenacted it perfectly had she wanted to. Discovering that someone else had overheard her and Daniel horrified her. That it was one of their children made it even worse.

Why had Celeste chosen that night, of all nights, to come home late? And why had she waited until now to let her mother know that she’d heard? Ada realized that her hands were curled into fists, and she forced herself to relax. It was all right. She’d said the right things. Celeste almost certainly believed her. But what if she doesn’t? she thought. Then what will happen?

Again she looked at the photograph of her late husband. “You had to come back, didn’t you?” she said. “You couldn’t stay gone.”

She put her face in her hands, but she didn’t cry. She breathed deeply, calming herself. Why was it all falling down on her? She’d worked so hard to pretend that everything was fine, that she was fine. And for some time she had actually believed that she was fine. Now, thanks to Nicky Turner and his idiotic cabin, her life had been turned upside down.

“Damn it, Daniel!” she said. “I laid you to rest. Now I have to do it all over again.”

From out of nowhere she heard her own voice. “Are you telling me nothing ever went on between the two of you?”

She closed her eyes and saw Daniel. “All that was a very long time ago, Ada.”

She remembered the expression on his face, how his eyes had looked away from her. It was the only time she’d seen him unable to face her. She had hated him for that, hated him because she knew it meant that he was lying. She remembered, too, lying in the very bed on which she now sat, sobbing and waiting for Daniel to come in and tell her that everything was all right. But he hadn’t. He’d left her there, alone with her misery and her hatred.

She opened her eyes. The room had changed since then. It was a different color, and the bed was covered with a new quilt. She’d given all of Daniel’s clothes to the Goodwill, and the scent of his aftershave no longer lingered. It was her room now, and hers alone. Yes, it had been a long time.

“But not long enough, Daniel,” Ada said. “Not long enough.”