Bird After Bird (27 page)

“You weren’t much of a fan of homecoming either, if I recall.”

“True, but you know how Mom pushed until I got added to the court.”

“Yeah, didn’t she threaten the principal?”

“Something like that. Anyway, never mind
me
. I’m talking about Wren. I know you love her, Laurie, and believe me, if she had a circle of friends in high school, I was in it—but from sixth grade on it seemed like the only thing she cared about was getting out of this town. When her dad died…maybe that was it for her, you know? Honey, all I’m saying is, maybe you got too close for comfort. She never was the type to open up.”

“I thought she opened up to me.”

L reached over and squeezed my hand. “I bet she did. But, you know, the thing that always struck me about Wren was that she didn’t want to drop her pain on other people. Another kid in our class lost his mom about a year after Wren lost hers. She went to the funeral home. We all did. She was kind, but she didn’t shed a tear. Didn’t make it about her. I think she was good at hiding her feelings. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t have them. Maybe she just never learned how to deal.”

“You think I hurt her?”

L shrugged. “If you don’t think you did, then you probably didn’t. I just know she was never going to stay in Birdseye. As much as you like to hide out at home, I always kind of thought Wren hid in plain sight. She was everything she was supposed to be according to Birdseye’s expectations, then she left. No hard feelings, just—gone.”

I didn’t expect Louisa to pull into Donna & Lew’s driveway, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. She was pushy in that way. Correction: my older sister was pushy in
every
way. It was one of her best qualities, I reckon, if big sisters can be said to have good qualities. She gunned the accelerator down the driveway and honked the horn before she parked the car.

Lew opened the back door and waved, not recognizing L’s car. When he saw me in the front seat, he broke into a wide grin. “Laurie! Get in this kitchen! Donna’s gone and made too much chicken & dumplings, and I can use some help, kid!”

Louisa smiled, shaking Lew’s hand. “It’s been a few years, Mr. Childers. I’m Louisa, Laurie’s sister.”

Lew drew Louisa in for a hug. “You’re family. You like chicken & dumplings?” He ushered her into the kitchen with his arm around her shoulders.

I felt myself slumping, and tried to straighten my posture, but I was too late. Donna was flying at me, ladle and bowl in hand. “Laurie Byrd! I thought we told you not to be a stranger! Get in this kitchen and eat, would ya? Heavens to Betsy, you look skinny!”

Louisa laughed, and Donna gave her a welcoming hug, the dripping ladle making a mess of her floor. Our own mother would never have abided such a thing, but Donna was much more laid back. “Of course I remember your pretty sister, Louisa! Grab a couple of bowls out of the cabinet, won’t you?”

L didn’t have to be told twice. Before I knew it, I had a steaming hot bowl of homemade dumplings and slow-cooked chicken breast in front of me, and Louisa was digging into her own.

“Laurie, I saw your sister at the Stop and Shop last week and told her she should bring you by sometime. Lew and I were missing your company.” She smiled at my sister. “I’m so glad you came. What’s new? What’s going on?”

I took a bite of dumplings and shrugged in response. I didn’t understand how they could be so happy. It was downright disconcerting. Hadn’t their lives been destroyed when they lost their daughter? They’d made it clear I was welcome, but didn’t seeing me make it harder on them?

“Laurie, what’s wrong?”

I dropped my spoon and took a deep breath. “Remember that girl I told you about?,” I said, and Donna’s eyes lit up.

“Yes! Why didn’t you bring her today?”

How could she be so accepting?

“She broke up with me,” I said.

“Well, shit,” Lew said, putting his own spoon down. “What the hell did you do, son?”

I laughed. It was one thing for me to beat myself up with the question, but another thing entirely to hear someone else say it. “Wish I knew. I was going to propose.” The room was quiet for a moment. I laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “I was even going to sing to her.”

“Well, that’s it,” Louisa said, between bites. She swallowed, nodding. “Josh Groban, you are not, brother.”

Donna chuckled, but her eyes were filled with concern. “Oh, hush. Laurie’s got a beautiful voice.” Quietly, she asked, “Any chance this is just a blip?”

“A blip?” I wasn’t sure I understood.

Donna handed me a napkin. “Wipe your mouth, Laurie. You’ve got dumpling goo on it.” As I did as she instructed. She continued. “A blip. When things happen that don’t make sense. When life is going along just fine, and something happens that screws it up for a while. Not a catastrophe, per se, but, you know…a
blip
.”

I thought about it. I hadn’t heard from Wren for two weeks. Was that catastrophic? Or was it a blip?

“She hasn’t answered my texts,” I said.

“Did you call her?” Lew asked. “Back in my day, we didn’t text. I had to chase Donna in person.”

I shook my head. “I haven’t called because I can tell she’s seen the texts. It couldn’t be more clear: she doesn’t want to talk.”

Lew rose from his chair, patting me on the shoulder as he took his empty bowl to the kitchen sink. “You might be right, son. You might be right. Still… something to be said for chasing in person. Worked on Donna.”

I managed a few more bites of the dumplings, mostly to keep from hurting Donna’s feelings. Her cooking was remarkable, and I felt a lot better for eating.

Louisa and Donna played the small town social game through the rest of the meal, connecting the dots between who they knew in common and what activities they did where. My sister was a librarian at the local outpost of the Dubois County Library, and she tried to recruit Donna to one of her book clubs.

Eventually, Lew took me aside. “C’mon. Gotta show you something.”

I thought he would take me outside to see his latest lawnmower. He was always upgrading, and Sylvia used to joke that he ought to go ahead and buy a tractor and be done with it.

He surprised me by steering me down the hallway toward Sylvia’s room.

Only the room wasn’t Sylvia’s anymore.

Her things were mostly removed, and a stack of boxes filled the center of the floor. Her bed was gone. The old wallpaper was down, and a fresh coat of butter yellow gleamed on all four walls.

“Wow,” I said. “It looks…”

“It looks like moving on,” Lew said.

“Why?”

He sighed. “Laurie, we kept her room just as she’d left it for a year. Grief counselor told us it was the best thing to do.” He saw the surprise on my face. “Yeah, yeah…we went to grief counseling. Probably should have dragged you along with us, I’m guessing. Anyway, we left it this way because we weren’t ready to let go. Then…after a time…we just
were
.”

He was quiet for a bit, letting that sink in, I guess.

“I think you know what I mean, don’t you? We’ll never stop loving our daughter—and I know you’ll never stop, either, Laurie. It’s not real love if it stops.”

I leaned against the doorway, wishing for a chair. I suddenly felt so tired—too tired. I hadn’t been sleeping or eating well and the fatigue was worse than during Basic. “You’re right, Lew. I won’t ever stop loving Syl, but eventually it must have been time to move on, otherwise it couldn’t have happened.”

Lew opened the closet door in Sylvia’s room and pulled out a painting. I recognized it—it was an oil of a red-tailed hawk I’d painted for Syl during our senior year of high school. I could see how immature the work was when I looked at the piece, but it wasn’t horrible. Not for a kid.

“We’re going to hang this in the den, I think,” he said. “Unless you want it back.”

“No, keep it,” I said.

“You still painting?”

“Not since Wren split.”

“Her name was Wren?”

“Yeah.”

“Not Wren Riley.”

I nodded. “You know her?”

Lew sighed. “Good lord, boy, everyone in this town knew little Wren Riley. Her parents—Lark and Walt—were good folks. Smart as whips, and funny. Shame, how cancer took ‘em. I thought Lark—I mean, Wren—left town for work. Didn’t she go up to Chicago to that Big Ten school?”

I nodded. “Northwestern.”

“That’s the one! Damn, kid! Wren Riley, huh? Sometimes when I’m at the cemetery I pass her parents’ plot. Been wondering how she’d been getting on since her daddy passed.” He sighed. “What a shame.” He gave me a sad smile. “Pretty as a picture. Smart as a
whip
.”

“And I let her go.”

Lew set the painting down, leaning it carefully against the wall, as though he wasn’t sure if the paint were still tacky. He touched the paint and pulled his finger away, examining it closely. “Sometimes I forget how long it’s been since I done things, Laurie. Was it last week? Must’ve been.” He straightened his posture and looked at me, placing one firm hand after the other on each of my shoulders. “Listen to your old friend Lew for a minute, would ya? There ain’t many young ladies from this town I’d set stock in, not like I would my own Syl. But she’s gone, and we’re still here, and I’m telling you, boy—if Wren Riley loves you, she’s a bird worth chasing. You said it yourself your life is shit without her—you’re not painting, you’re not eating…forget the God damned telephone and the texting and all that shit and go and get that girl—and don’t take no for an answer. You hear me?”

“I hear you, Lew,” I said, letting him pull me in for a hug. Lew wasn’t much of a hugger. Never had been. Wasn’t one to go on at length with advice for the lovelorn, either.

“Think about it,” he said, patting my back before he let me go.

I nodded.

And then I shoved it completely and totally out of my mind.

Chapter Fifty-one

Laurie

Louisa didn’t give up. Neither did Donna. They both checked in on me at the garage at least once a week. It was getting to the point Billy was making cracks about the team of hens pecking at me, and he didn’t let it go, even the nights he and the Boys played at the Beer & Bait. I guess he didn’t have anything better to do. Lynette’s pregnancy hormones were making her crazy and she was pressuring him to get the baby’s nursery ready early.

“Why don’t you just put the poor girl out of her misery?” I asked him one day at lunch.

“Got too many shows lined up on the weekends.”

“Shows?”

“Gigs.” He smiled, chewing his mouthful of burger.

“That’s awesome, man. I had no idea the band was taking off like that.”

He shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess. Need some new songs, though. Only so long we can play covers, if we want to get noticed.”

We both saw Louisa pull into the parking lot of the garage.

“I better go talk to her, I guess,” I said, leaving some cash on the counter for the waitress.

Billy waved me goodbye, finishing what was left of my fries.

“Hey, bro!” Louisa gave me a hug. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” I said. “What brings you ‘round today? I promise I’m eating.” I pointed over to the diner, and Billy waved through the window at my sis.

“I’ve made an appointment for you.”

“An appointment?” I didn’t like the sounds of that.

“Yeah. Just say you’ll go once. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to go back.”

“Is this one of those New Age things your friends at the library are holding? A Reiki-a-thon or something?”

She laughed. “No, but I will see what I can do, if that’s what you’d rather.”

“What is it, then?”

“I made you a date.”

“No way.”

“With a nun.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, and Louisa tucked a business card into the pocket of my overalls. “Just say you’ll meet her. You’ll like her.
I
like her a lot. Just go once.”

Sister Generose wasn’t what I expected. She didn’t wear a habit. She wasn’t old and grey. She looked a lot like Louisa with her long ponytail and fresh face. To be honest, that was helpful. It put me at ease. Well, it made me less nervous, anyway.

“Welcome, Laurence,” she said, gesturing to a wicker chair in her small, cluttered office. “You can have a seat, or we can take a stroll, if you’d like. I know it’s hot out, but I’m afraid the A/C is on the fritz and Mother Superior can’t get any HVAC here until next week.”

“A stroll? Sure.”

The convent was just about ten minutes down the highway from Birdseye, but it could have been another world. I’d never had a good reason to visit it, and now I regretted that. Sitting high on a hill overlooking the small town of Ferdinand below, it was quite possibly the best view in all of Dubois County.

We ended up on a balcony, taking in the view. Sister Generose told me about herself…how long she’d been a nun, why she’d decided to join the clergy, and why she’d become a grief counselor. It was the last bit that surprised me the most.

“My lover died. Right out of high school, when we were set to move to San Francisco together for college—or whatever mischief we could have gotten into.”