CALL MAMA (13 page)

The cabin in Montana at Yellow Bay State Park was off the beaten track and difficult to reach, the terrain putting strain on the overworked campervan, resulting in disaster when a tyre burst, leaving them stranded in deep snow. Kristof jumped down to investigate.

“This can't be fixed in this weather; the blizzard's fierce and light is fading fast. We will have to continue on foot as best we can.”

“How far are we from the cabin?”

“Difficult to tell in these conditions, but I don't think it's far, we will just have to walk.”

“Oh, no!” wailed Zelda, knowing there was no option but to trek the last stretch to safety.

Wrapped up well, the trio struggled uphill, Kristof making a path for the others to walk in his footsteps, the frightened child clinging to Zelda, putting her whole weight on her, which made the slog even more arduous. Kristof carried a backpack crammed with as much as he could carry, his steps slow and wearisome, as he led the jaded group on through the fierce storm. The path, as far as he could ascertain, veered towards a clearing where stood a welcoming sight.

“The cabin!” Kristof pointed, his tense muscles visibly relaxing.

The cabin itself was comfortably set out and heated up quickly. An abundant store of dried foodstuff filled the cupboard as well as some homemade pies, which delighted the hungry travellers. As Kristof unpacked the backpack, distributing the items, hoping he had not left anything essential behind, Zelda rustled up a quick meal, after which she settled Lucy to sleep before she and her exhausted husband relaxed by the log fire with a welcome drink.

“This is some place. Everything we need is here; someone must come and replenish food and gather logs. It's all very intriguing,” mumbled a weary Zelda.

Next day, Kristof had to call Boss. The signal from the cabin was intermittent due to weather conditions, so he had no option but to retrace his steps to the troublesome campervan to tackle the problem tyre as best he could. He carefully drove the seventeen miles or so to Polson in the hope of making the call and having the badly damaged tyre replaced. The journey was treacherous; the road was covered in ice, no highway personnel would venture out there to deal with a burst tyre, even if Boss had allowed it. Progress was slow; the damaged tyre made the journey even more dangerous, heavy snow blinded his eyes and caused him unimaginable stress as he struggled at times to keep the vehicle from slipping off the path.

Zelda and Lucy played board games, which they found in the cabin. Lucy, now aware that she had no control over her situation, had bonded with Zelda and sensed in her a warm human being who, for reasons unknown to her, could not divulge details of their marathon journey. Zelda reassured her as best she could that no harm would come to her and soon she would be told everything. “I just want to go home, Zelda. Can't you call Mama? She must be frantic… are you holding me to ransom? My mother will pay what you ask, please call Mama.”

“If only I could, my dear, if only… we are under strict instructions and cannot deviate from them or we three could be in danger. I cannot tell you anything else, not yet.”

“You're afraid of someone, aren't you?”

In spite of her young age, Lucy had sensed fear.

“Who are you afraid of?”

“Hush, child!” scolded her minder, mad at herself for showing her emotion.

“No more questions.”

The exhausted man returned to the cabin, his ordeal over. Taking his wife aside out of earshot of Lucy, he related the latest instructions from Boss.

“The forecast seems to predict an improvement soon. We have to stay here some days more and return to base, taking as many days as it took to get here.”

“What an ordeal for the child,” said Zelda. “If we feel strained, how much worse is it for her? She's such a sweet child, I feel so bad about all this.”

“We have no option, dragi, we have to see it through and soon we shall be free.”

“Will we ever be truly free?” sighed Zelda.

***

Lucy woke early to the winter sun shining through the little window of her room; the snow had stopped, there was a definite thaw. Water plopped from the roof, making rhythmic sounds as it fell to the gravel path beneath her window. The view took her breath away, the sun sending sparkles of light on to Flathead Lake, causing her to reflect on the beauty of the place.
This is so amazing
, she thought.

She felt a peace she had not experienced since her captivity touching her heart as she studied the scene before her.

Zelda and Kristof were still asleep in an adjoining room. Zelda had told her to have some cookies should she feel hungry. She made her way quietly to the kitchen, stopping to admire the changing vista from different windows in the snug cabin.
Glorious scenery!
she thought as she sat munching on a cookie, pondering on who owned such a winsome property and why she was there. She sighed and made to return to her room when she spotted Kristof's mobile phone. In a nanosecond, she grasped it.
I'm going to call Mama
. She had overheard Kristof mention that the signal was unreliable due to the storm, but took her chance on there being some reception now that the weather was calmer. In her excitement Lucy punched in the only number she could remember. It was a private number that took her directly to her mother's phone and was elated to hear it ring and be picked up immediately.

“Mother!” she cried. “Mother, get me home. Why are you doing this to me?”

Zelda gently removed the phone from the trembling girl's hand and switched it off, saying, “Not yet, honey, not yet.”

Lucy ran to her room, threw her quaking body onto the bed and wept sorely. She was so distraught she did not hear the couple's raised voices as Zelda berated her husband for his carelessness.

“We can't afford to make mistakes like that. Keep your phone with you at all times.”

***

Brenda, ecstatic at hearing her daughter's voice, ran through the house shouting for Molly.

“Lucy called me! She called me!”

Molly hugged the shocked woman, listened to her garbled version of the brief call and cried with her friend.

“We know she's alive then, but where is she?”

“We were cut off, it was a bad signal.”

“Get hold of Detective Harvey, tell him what's happened.”

Brenda sobbed. “It was strange, Molly, she asked me why I was doing this to her. What does she mean? Call Myra at the office, give her the news.”

Brenda threw herself into Molly's arms; it was as if the stresses of the past weeks had restored Brenda's sense of decency.

Attempts to contact the detective proved difficult; no one seemed to know where the guy was. His mobile phone went unanswered, as did that of his teammate Carr. The two detectives were attending a court hearing regarding the recent events in Washington and were unable to be contacted.

“Where are these people when we need them?” cried Brenda in frustration.

Nora, alerted by the screams, joined her mother and Brenda.

The junior officer on desk duty was unsure how he should proceed when all attempts to contact his immediate superior failed. He felt the matter required urgent action and made the decision to call further up the chain to Superintendent Benson.
I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb
, he thought as he punched in the direct number taking him straight to Superintendent Benson.

“It's concerning the missing Mears girl, sir.”

***

Superintendent Benson presented himself at Brenda's home and apologized for Harvey's and Carr's absence, stating they were out of town on essential departmental business. He declined to state the specific nature of their duty, thinking perhaps Brenda had more than enough to cope with. He brought a technician with him to examine the phone.

“Wilson here will attempt to retrieve the last number.”

As they waited for a result, the officer's fingers worked expertly across the keys. Benson gently obtained from the tearful mother details of her daughter's call.

“It was so brief. It lasted seconds before I heard a click as if someone had switched it off.”

Wilson shook his head. “Sorry, sir, the number can't be retrieved; the call wasn't long enough for me to trace. I would need to take it to the lab to test it further.”

“I can't be without it, that's my private number that Lucy might call back on,” lamented Brenda.

“Ok, we'll bring some more equipment here and attempt to find the data. At least we know she's alive. Hold on to that,” said Benson as he left to return to base to contact Harvey.

Dejection filled the household; the moment of elation had passed.

Lucy continued to sob and stare out of the window of the little room in the cabin, deep in private thought.

How did it get to this? Why couldn't my mother be more like Gina? I love sleepovers with Abigail. Gina's a cool mom. She's lively, funny and so loving. Her eyes light up with laughter, like sparkles. She's so pretty! Her flawless skin and her hair glow like the sun dancing across them, just like Abigail's. Gina, Abbie, I miss you!

Lucy wiped her tears and continued her monologue and reminiscing.

Gina, I would say, “I love your floral arrangements, you are so creative!”

“Thanks, Lucy, that's sweet, but you know, you're just as creative, if not more so, but in a different way. Your music is so special, honey, you have talent. We'll see you in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra someday, of that I'm sure!”

“That's my aim, Gina, to join CSO as the best cellist ever and travel the world with them. Ken says I can take my dream to the ends of the earth.”

“He's darn right, honey. Aim high.”

“But my mother… Gina, you know her. You know how she is. She wants me to study business management and follow her into Mears Empire. She thinks my music is a hobby… how can she not see I'm passionate about music and it's not part time? It is my life. I'd hate to be in business, I loathe the idea.”

Lucy continued with her dreams as the snow gently tapped the little window of her cosy room, as if trying to soothe her spirit.

“Lucy,” my mother would say. “Your great-grandfather started this business from nothing, built it on hard work, taught his son everything he needed to know to expand the firm and take it from strength to strength. He in turn passed his passion on to me, and look where we are: one of the top publishing businesses in Chicago, well respected and trusted. You have to carry on the family firm. It will be handed to you on a plate. Once you have graduated from Chicago Business School, then post grad at Cornell, you will have a place on the board and I'll teach you everything you need to know to take over from me someday.”

“Mother!” I would reply. “I don't want that! You know I want to study music at North Western.”

“Lucy, we will discuss this later. I have a meeting with the auditors in an hour.”

That was as far as I ever got, trying to discuss my life with her. She was always busy, forever running to meetings, here and there, always on her phone. No wonder I turn to Mama, dear Molly. I've called her mama for as long as I can remember. I grew up thinking Molly was my mama and Nora, my elder sister. Mama nurtured me, was always there, and told me stories at bedtime.

I loved those tales of her beloved Ireland and the songs she sang. The less I saw of my mother, the more I saw of Molly and Nora… Oh, why am I in this place with these people?

Lucy, now lost in thoughts of home, continued to ponder.

Dear Molly, Mama, so tall and straight, facing the world with a frankness that challenged anyone to defy her right to be the person she was. She was well built and when she chuckled, as she often did, her whole body shook.

“Do you miss Ireland, Mama?” I would say to her.

“Oh, mavourneen,” she told me “It's a distant memory now. I left Donegal when I was a seven year old, never returned, although I always had a mind to. My folks came over here to make a better life for themselves.”

“Would you ever go back and visit?”

“Not much point. I've no relatives there now apart from a distant cousin who's in assisted living in Dublin. I never met her, only heard of her through my mammy's talk of her side of the family. No, honey, my memories of the old country come from stories and songs that I learned from my folks.”

As always, spending time in Mama's company calmed my mood. Mama hugged me as she asked,

“So, sweetie, what's caused the latest upset with your mother?”

“The usual, Mama. She won't listen when I want to discuss my future; she thinks my music is only a hobby. I'll soon have to decide on serious study subjects… she won't see past me going to CBS. I'm not going there, I'm definitely not! I would hate to be in business school.”

Molly pursed her lips in anger, a trait I'd come to recognize over the years when she wanted to speak her mind, but loyalty forbade it.

“She'll come up with some nightmare plan for me, I know she will! She always gets her own way.”

Molly sighed. She knew well how my mother's mind worked. From an early age, she had reared her. She told me my mother showed an independent spirit, a stubbornness, which helped her become a successful businessperson, but at what cost?

Lucy's memories came flooding back as she tried to make sense of her situation.

“Mama,” I remember saying. “I'm growing up. You'd think she'd realize I have a future, one I want for myself.”

“Sure, and don't I know it! Sixteen next birthday! Where has time gone? Seems no time at all since I came here with Nora and took charge of your mother, such a sweet babe… and then, you yourself, reared you like my own…”

Molly's voice trailed off as she lost herself in memories.

Catching her mood, I should have let things go, but stubbornness seems to be a trait in my family and I blurted out, “Mama, do you know who my father is?”

I'd never raised this subject with her before. I had interrupted her reverie. Molly, visibly shaken by the unexpected question, drew a deep intake of breath, turned away and sternly told me never to ask that question of her.

“So you do know, don't you? Please tell me. I have a right to know, haven't I? Who is he?”

“Yes, sweetie, you do have that right, but it's not for me to tell… you have to ask your mother.”

“And you think
she
'll tell me?”

I almost roared in frustration. That was the first time I had ever shouted at dear mama. I took off to my music room where I found solace. Music soothed my soul.