Finding Libbie (20 page)

“How is she today?” Larry asked softly.

“It’s been a good day,” Jack told him. He’d confided in Larry about Libbie’s moods. “I’ve already told her you enlisted a few weeks ago, and she took that pretty well. Saying good-bye might be a lot harder, though.”

“For me, too,” Larry said with a grin, but there was no mirth in his smile. A soft crying sound came from Larry’s coat pocket.

Jack’s brow wrinkled. “What was that?”

“You’ll see,” Larry said. “Let’s go inside. I’m sure Libbie already knows why I’m here.”

Jack opened the door and led the way. “Larry came to say hi,” he said cheerfully.

Libbie was curled up on the sofa with an afghan wrapped around her. She and Jack had been watching
Bonanza
on television. She smiled up at Larry when he came in. “Hey, Larry. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good.” He smiled and walked across the room to her. “I brought you something that I hope you’ll take care of for me.” Larry reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny, orange-striped kitten. The little ball of fur mewed softly.

Libbie squealed with delight and reached out her hands to hold it. “Oh, Larry. It’s adorable. It’s so tiny.”

“Yeah, he is. One of our barn cats had an early litter, and this little guy was the runt. The bigger ones kept pushing him away from the mother, so I took him in and fed him milk with an eyedropper. I was thinking that maybe you might like to have him. He could use some extra loving care.”

Libbie held the little kitten close to her. “I love him, Lar. Jack, we can keep him, can’t we?”

Jack smiled. “Of course we can. I’m sure you’ll give him all the love he needs.”

“I’m going to get him a litter box and keep him inside so he doesn’t drown in the lake or get hurt by a wild animal,” Libbie said. She beamed up at Larry. “I’ll take good care of him.”

Larry sat down beside her. “I know you will,” he said softly. “Since I’m leaving tomorrow, he’ll need you to take care of him.”

Libbie’s eyes went wide. “You’re leaving? Tomorrow? For the Army?”

Larry nodded. “Yep. I’m taking the bus tomorrow morning, and in two days I’ll be at the Army camp, ready for them to make a man out of me.” He grinned crookedly.

“Oh, Larry.” Libbie’s eyes filled with tears. She reached out and hugged him with one arm, holding the little kitten between them. “I’m going to worry about you every moment you’re gone.”

Larry pulled away and looked down at her tenderly. “Now don’t you worry about me. I’ll be just fine. You love that little kitten and take care of this big oaf here, and the time will go by quickly. Before you know it, I’ll be home again.” He kissed her softly on the cheek.

Libbie nodded, but she was too choked up to speak. She sat back and hugged the kitten close to her, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Maybe you can name that silly kitten after me,” Larry said, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Larry’s a good name for a cat.”

Libbie laughed and Jack snorted.

“Larry is a terrible name for a cat,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t do that to the poor kitten.”

Libbie looked thoughtful a moment. “I know. I’ll name him Spence. That would be cute, and it still has part of your last name in it.”

“Spence is a great name,” Larry said softly. He bent over to pet the kitten, then kissed Libbie on the cheek one last time. “Take care of Spence. When I come back, I’ll expect to see a big, fat cat, all lazy and spoiled.”

Libbie smiled at him. “Good-bye, Larry. Please be careful and come home to us.”

Larry nodded. He stood and then walked over to the door. “Good-bye, Libbie. Take good care of yourself, too.” He waved and walked out the door with Jack behind him.

After Jack closed the door, he stood next to Larry, not knowing quite what to say.

“Hey, no frowning, Jack. We’ve known each other a long time, and you know that I’m tough and crazy. If anyone can come home from Nam, it’s me.”

“I expect you to keep that promise,” Jack said. For the first time in their friendship, a handshake wasn’t enough. They hugged each other, and then Larry left with a grin and a wave.

Jack watched him drive away, then took a deep breath to clear his head and went back inside. Libbie was still hugging the kitten tight.

“He’ll be okay,” Jack said, sitting down beside her and petting the tiny kitten.

“I hope so,” Libbie said. She dropped her head on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack hoped so, too. He sent up a little prayer to the heavens that his best friend would be safe and come home soon.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Libbie thought of Larry every day, and she was thankful to have the playful kitten around the cottage. He brightened the long cold days that still continued through March. Unfortunately, little Spence didn’t help to calm her nerves, and she still relied heavily on her Valium and wine.

One morning, as Libbie was folding laundry and laughing at Spence trying to climb into her basket of towels, the phone rang. It was Gwen.

“Hi, Gwen. What’s up?”

“I need you to go sit with Mother for a couple of hours. Dad has a meeting at his office, and I’m still trying to bathe and feed the kids.”

Libbie grimaced. Memories of the last time she had seen her mother lying in bed still haunted her. She’d avoided going to the house while her mother was having an episode. It gnawed at her nerves.

“Libbie!” Gwen shouted.

“Fine. Okay. I’ll go over and sit with her.”

“Good. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Just don’t let her take any meds, and see if you can get her to eat something. Bye.” She hung up before Libbie could respond.

Libbie scooped up Spence and held him close. He had grown a lot in the past three weeks. She no longer put him in a box to sleep—he just crawled out of it anyway. She stroked his soft fur and kissed his head before setting him down again. She stacked wood in the fire so the cottage would stay warm in her absence, then slipped on her coat and boots. Every movement was exaggerated. She really didn’t want to go to her parents’ house, and she was trying to pull whatever courage she had left from deep down inside her.

As she put a shaking hand on the doorknob, Libbie thought of the bottle of Valium in her lingerie drawer. She’d already taken one that morning, but her nerves were so frayed she thought she might need another one. She hesitated. Could she get through the next few hours without taking one? Biting her lip, she realized that she couldn’t. She hurried and got the bottle, took a pill, then headed out.

When she arrived, the pill was already calming her tense nerves. Her dad met her at the door.

“Hey, kitten,” he said, kissing her softly on the cheek. “I’m glad you could come. I have a meeting at noon that I just can’t miss. And Sandra had to run errands all day for us. I’m sure you’ll only have to stay a couple of hours—Gwen said she’s hurrying.”

Libbie nodded and waved good-bye to her father. The house seemed oddly quiet and empty. This was the home she’d grown up in, yet there was nothing about it that felt warm and inviting. She wondered, as she walked into the kitchen, if it had ever felt like a real home. The Prentice farmhouse was warm and welcoming, as a family home should be. She always felt at ease there. Sadly, Libbie didn’t feel that way here.

She made two slices of toast with apricot jam—her mother’s favorite—and poured a glass of orange juice. Arranging it on a serving tray, she took a deep breath and walked upstairs. Her mother’s bedroom door was slightly ajar, and the drapes were drawn, making the room dark and foreboding. The light by the bed was on, as usual, but it did little to cut through the gloominess of the room.

Libbie tentatively walked inside. “Mom? It’s Libbie.” Libbie wrinkled her nose. There it was again—that odor of alcohol and stale air. It made her stomach turn over.

“Mom? I brought you something to eat.”

Abigail stirred. She was sitting up against a pile of pillows, but her eyes were closed. Her pill bottles and a glass of bourbon sat on the nightstand beside her. “Libbie? Where’s Gwen? Where’s your father?” she said haltingly.

“Father had to go to work, and Gwen is busy with the children,” Libbie said, walking up to the side of her mother’s bed with the tray. “I made you toast with apricot jam. Why don’t you have a bite or two?”

Abigail slowly pushed herself up higher and finally opened her eyes. Her usually sharp eyes were a dull brown. Her hair, which she had styled weekly at the beauty shop, was crushed against her head, and her face looked pale and thin.

Libbie swallowed hard, trying not to flee the room. She set the tray on her mother’s lap and made sure it was steady before letting go. “Should I open the drapes a little? The sun is shining today. Maybe it will help you feel better.”

“I prefer the dark,” Abigail said.

Libbie watched as her mother slowly lifted a piece of toast to her lips, took a small bite, then set it down. Her hand was shaking, just as Libbie’s hand had shaken before she’d taken another Valium that morning. A chill ran up Libbie’s spine as she pushed that thought away.

“Where is Gwen?” Abigail asked again, her brow creasing as if she couldn’t remember what Libbie had just told her.

“She had to tend to the children. She’ll be here shortly.”

Abigail waved the tray away. “I’m not hungry,” she said.

“You might feel better if you eat,” Libbie coaxed. “Can you try to eat just a little more? There’s orange juice on the tray, too, if you’re thirsty.”

Abigail shook her head. “No. Please take it away.”

Libbie picked up the tray and walked over to her mother’s desk, setting it down. She couldn’t bear the silence in the room, so she started chattering. “Mom, you should see the cute orange kitten that Larry gave me before he left. It’s just a tiny thing, but I’m taking very good care of him and he’s growing quickly. His name is Spence. This morning he was so cute. He kept trying to jump into the warm towels that I was folding.”

Abigail sighed. “Dear. Would you please hand me that pill bottle?” She pointed to the one closest to her.

Libbie stared at the pills and then at her mom. “Gwen said you should wait until she gets here to take any pills.”

Abigail glared at her. “Hand me the damned pills!”

Libbie was so taken aback that she stood rooted to the floor.

Her mother took a deep breath. “Dear. Please. Hand me the pills.”

Libbie walked over to the nightstand and picked up the bottle. She peered at it under the light. Valium. Just like she took. She stared at it, stunned, squelching the urge to drop the bottle and run out of the room.

“Libbie!”

“Mom, you really should wait until Gwen gets here,” Libbie said, her voice shaking.

Abigail put out her hand. “Give them to me.”

Reluctantly, Libbie handed her the bottle. Abigail struggled to open it, but finally did, and took out one pill. She put it in her mouth and swallowed. Libbie watched with trepidation, hoping it had been at least a couple of hours since she had taken her last one.

Abigail sat back against her pillows, sighing. Libbie took the pill bottle from her hand and set it next to the others. Her mother’s breathing became slow and steady, so Libbie knew she was asleep. She picked up the tray and silently left the room.

An hour later, Gwen came in looking harried with the two girls. Libbie had stayed downstairs in the kitchen. She’d been too stressed out from her encounter with her mother to sit still, so she’d kept busy by baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

“See. It didn’t kill you to help out, did it?” Gwen said as she unwrapped the kids from their coats, scarves, and boots. Lynn was almost four years old now and the baby, Leslie, was one. When Lynn was finally free of her winter outerwear, she ran off to the living room where toys were kept in a basket by the sofa. Little Leslie toddled after her on unsteady legs.

“I baked cookies if the girls want any,” Libbie offered. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Even as she baked, her mind kept returning to her mother’s clawlike hands struggling to open the Valium bottle and then the look of pure satisfaction on her face when she’d swallowed one. Twice, Libbie had almost poured herself a glass of wine to calm her nerves, but then she saw her hand reaching for the bottle and pulled back sharply. It reminded her of her mother, drinking down the bourbon and taking the same pills she did. It had scared Libbie so much that she’d quickly walked away from the bar.

“That’s the last thing the girls need right now,” Gwen said, heading into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. “But it does smell nice in here.”

Libbie took that as a compliment since compliments came so rarely from Gwen.

Gwen poured herself a cup of coffee when it was ready and then made an all too familiar expression of satisfaction, as if she was as addicted to the caffeine as her mother was to pills and booze. The look made Libbie shiver.

“Tell me why Mom is sick so often,” Libbie said, using all her courage to do so. “And why does she drink bourbon and take all those pills?”

Gwen sat at the breakfast table by the French doors. The afternoon sun shining through the windows did little for her hard features. Libbie’s sister was only three years older than she was, yet she might as well have been twenty years older by the harsh look on her face. “Why don’t you answer that question? You take Valium. And you drink, too. Why?”

Libbie’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, please. Did you really think no one noticed that you bought wine on our parents’ account? Mother told me you’ve been buying quite a lot. Where is all that going? I imagine Jack is more of a beer guy.”

“Jack rarely drinks at all,” Libbie said defensively. “And neither do I,” she lied. “I occasionally have a glass of wine. So what?”

Gwen snorted. “Okay. Whatever you say. All I know is Mom gets anxious and nervous, and then she heads off to bed for a few days. She’s told me she feels like she’s in a dark hole that she can’t climb out of. Personally, I think she’s just being selfish and dramatic, just wanting attention. We all have bad days, but we don’t all crawl off and hide.”

She feels like she’s in a dark hole that she can’t climb out of.
Those words hit Libbie hard. How often had she felt that very same way? But why? She wasn’t bitter and angry like her mother, yet they both felt the same way. Her father was so kind and caring, much like Jack was to her, yet it seemed as if her mother didn’t appreciate him. Libbie’s skin prickled. Was she acting the same way toward Jack?

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Gwen said with a smirk.

Libbie looked up at her. “About what?”

“That maybe you and Mother aren’t so different after all.”

Libbie inhaled sharply. She heard Gwen laugh, as if it were the funniest joke in the world. The problem was, the joke was on her.

Libbie ran to the door, quickly slipping on her boots and grabbing her coat. She had to get out of there. She couldn’t stand to hear one more nasty word from Gwen. It was all too much to bear.

That evening, Libbie didn’t drink any wine, determined to prove Gwen wrong. She wasn’t like her mother. She didn’t hide away in her bed for days at a time, drinking and taking pills. But the sad fact that haunted her was how many times she had fallen asleep from drinking and not made dinner for her and Jack. Was that how it had started for her mother? A day lost, then two, then a whole week? Would that happen to her?

Not if I don’t let it happen.

Libbie made a nice dinner for them that night, and Jack was all smiles when he came into the warm kitchen that smelled heavenly. She did take a Valium that night before bed and hated herself for sighing with relief at its calming effect on her. Determined not to become her mother, she told herself she would stop taking the Valium, too.

The next morning, she ignored her body’s craving for Valium and headed off to work at the library. By mid-morning, though, her hands were shaking and she was jittery. Her headache was back, and she felt so tightly wound up that she could snap at any moment. When she left for the day, she drove past the liquor store even though she would have loved to stop and get a bottle of wine. But she was determined to stop drinking no matter how she felt.

She forced herself to make dinner that night despite her shaking hands. Then she sat on the sofa watching television with Jack while holding the kitten close. Her nerves were raw but she forced herself to sit still, and holding Spence as he slept helped.

As she got ready for bed that night, she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and saw how tense her face muscles were. She took a deep breath, but the tightness remained. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t relax. She knew she’d never sleep without the help of a Valium, so she took one, and finally a soothing calm washed over her. As she fell asleep curled up next to Jack, she was proud of herself for not taking pills or drinking wine for almost two days, except for the Valium at bedtime.
I’m not like my mother.
She fell asleep, comforted by that thought.

The next day, however, was even harder than the previous two. From the moment she woke up she craved a Valium like most people craved coffee. Twice she picked up the bottle and opened the lid, but both times she saw her mother’s slack face and clawlike hands opening the pill bottle, and she threw the Valium back into the drawer. She fed the kitten and cleaned out his litter box, then worked on the fire to keep the cottage warm. But the bottle of Valium beckoned to her like an old friend. Libbie had to put distance between her and the Valium. She slipped on her coat, grabbed her purse and grocery list, and headed out into the crisp March day.

Driving to town, she felt a little better. She went to the grocery store, then to the meat market, where she bought a small beef roast to cook that night. She thought she’d make mashed potatoes and roasted carrots, too. Jack would like that.

Passing the liquor store, her heart began to beat faster. She pulled into the parking lot and argued with herself for a few minutes. Would it really hurt to have a glass of wine with dinner, especially since she wasn’t taking Valium anymore? She’d been doing so well; didn’t she deserve a treat?

Then she remembered Gwen’s sneering face.
You and Mother aren’t so different after all.

Libbie shuddered. She was nothing like her mother. Hadn’t she proved that the past couple of days?

She looked down at her hands and saw the slight shake. Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. “Just one bottle, and I’ll only have one glass at dinner.” She ran into the store before she could change her mind.

Libbie carried in her groceries and set them on the counter, then put more wood on the fire. The kitten came running and crawled between her legs, and Libbie lifted Spence up and hugged him, giving him soft kisses on the head.