Grace (23 page)

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Authors: T. Greenwood

BOOK: Grace
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“What are you guys talking about?” Elsbeth asked, her curiosity piqued.
“A letter my father wrote. To Betsy, the girl from the photo at the beauty parlor. You know, you kind of look like her,” Wilder said, studying Elsbeth's face.
She couldn't believe he'd noticed the resemblance too. As he examined her, she felt herself becoming Betsy Parker in his gaze.
“He buried it inside some tree on this island.”
“Why did he bury it?” Elsbeth asked.
Wilder climbed out of the boat. She studied his strong forearms, the sleeves of his white cotton button-down shirt rolled up to the elbows.
“They were best friends,” he said. “She didn't know how he felt about her when they were kids. It was a
secret
.” He smiled at Elsbeth, and she felt her knees go soft. She tried to remember if Kurt had ever written anything to her besides grocery lists. She didn't think so.
“That's so romantic,” Twig said, swooning.
“I'm sure it's probably disintegrated by now,” he said. “If it's still there at all. But it can't hurt to look.”
They all got out of the boat and started walking through the tangled brush of the small island. There were some rusted beer cans, cigarette butts. Elsbeth suddenly thought about Jude, about all of that debris, and that made her think of Kurt. Of what he'd think if he saw her right now. She shook her head as if she could shake those thoughts loose.
She had no idea how Wilder expected to find anything in these thick woods, but all of a sudden he pointed and then rushed over to a large willow tree. It was split down the middle, like it had been struck by lightning. He searched all around the trunk of the tree and then, incredibly, pulled a piece of paper out of a deep crevice in the wood.
“Holy shit!” Twig said. “Is that it?”
“I don't know,” he said, gingerly unfolding it.
“What does it say?” Elsbeth asked.
He studied it, and she watched as the paper crumbled in his fingers. Elsbeth felt suddenly heartbroken. Of course, it was a miracle that he'd found it at all, but now that he had, she wanted more than anything to know what it said. As it crumbled, she felt herself crumbling. Something inside her turning to ash.
“I can just make out her name,” he said, peering at the faded letter. “That's it. Just
Dear Betsy
.”
As Wilder recounted the story of the accident for Twig, Elsbeth thought about Betsy Parker, about the baby she had inside her when she died. That poor baby growing up without a mother.
“Oh my God,” Twig said. “That's the saddest story I ever heard.”
Wilder nodded. “I thought I might be able to find this to give to my dad.”
Elsbeth's throat swelled. She tried to imagine Trevor and Gracy without her. What would happen to them if
she
just disappeared?
“I need to get back,” she said. “Gracy will be up from her nap any time now.”
When they pulled up to the dock, she could see Mireya holding Gracy on her hip. Gracy's face was bright red and her cheeks were streaked with tears. Elsbeth scrambled out of the boat, feeling the effects of that second cocktail and the sun. Trying to right herself, she ran up the dock until she got to the shore. Her legs felt wobbly, and she was nauseous. She wasn't sure whether it was from the vodka or from the boat ride.
“Oh, honey,” she said, reaching out for her. Gracy shook her head and clung to Mireya, burying her face in her shoulder. So much for stranger danger.
“Gracy,”
Elsbeth said sternly, feeling like somebody had sucker punched her in the stomach. She pried her out of Mireya's arms and squeezed her tight. She felt Gracy's body resist and then, slowly, soften.
“She was crying. I hope it's okay I got her,” Mireya said.
“It's fine. Thank you,” she said, wishing Mireya would just leave now.
“I had a bad dream, and I couldn't find you. Where were you, Mumma?”
“I'm sorry, sweetie. I shouldn't have left,” she said and started to walk back up to the camp with Gracy snug on her hip, leaving Mireya behind.
“Promise you won't leave me anymore,” she said.
“Never ever,” Elsbeth said, feeling like she might cry.
Down by the water she could see Twig lying down on a lawn chair, Wilder sitting next to her. Mireya flitted down toward them like a butterfly, then took his hand and pulled him up from the chair. Elsbeth's stomach twisted and tightened as she watched them walk to the water, holding hands. Acid rose in her throat as Mireya glanced back up at her, smiling like she'd just won something. What a fool she'd been. What an idiot.
“Listen, sweetie. How about we go home?”
“No firecrackers?”
“I think Daddy has some sparklers,” Elsbeth said, trying to smile.
“Aren't those dangerous for kids?”
“I'll make sure you're safe,” Elsbeth said.
Back at the house, Elsbeth found Kurt in the kitchen. She wanted to let him know, needed to let him know, how sorry she was. How confused she felt. How much she needed him. She went to him, hugged him, pulled back, and gave him a kiss.
“Have you been drinking?” he asked, pulling away from her, his eyes widening.
She caught her breath, raised her eyebrows, looking at him in disbelief. She'd expected him to hug her back, to hold her. “We had such a
great
time,” she said, ignoring him. “It was gorgeous. We took the boat out, and Gracy had a root beer float. We went swimming.”
“How much did you have?” he asked.
She couldn't believe he was interrogating her like this. “Just a couple. Jesus, it was hours ago.”
“And you
drove?
What the hell were you thinking?” Kurt's voice was loud; he was
yelling
at her.
Elsbeth's eyes widened. “I am not drunk.”
“I can smell it, El,” he said, and she wondered if it was possible that he was right. They were pretty strong drinks, but she would never have gotten in the car if she didn't think she was okay.
“What if you'd gotten pulled over? Jesus. You had Gracy with you.” He looked disgusted with her. This wasn't what she'd wanted at all. Maybe she should have just stayed at the lake. No one there was judging her. No one there was accusing her.
“Oh, so now I'm some sort of horrible mother?” she said, and then she remembered the terrified look on Gracy's face when she found her with Mireya. She thought about Trevor, about how he'd raged at her that afternoon.
Gracy was in the living room watching videos; she could hear Dora the Explorer singing, “Backpack, backpack.” Elsbeth knew she should end this now, not let it escalate into something bigger than it needed to be.
“How was
your
day?” she asked, rubbing her temples, though she honestly didn't care anymore. She didn't even want to know. Her forehead was tender to the touch. Burned. She felt like she might explode.
“Pretty damn awful,” he said. “I spent the whole afternoon looking through Pop's boxes for some legal papers Pop thinks are in there. Nothing but trash.”
Elsbeth looked past him, out the kitchen window.
“I think we should go away,” she said to no one.
“El, please don't start with me on this again.”
“Let's just
go
. We don't have to fly. We can just pack up the car and drive. We can stay at campgrounds. We can pack a cooler so we don't have to eat at restaurants. We don't have to go to Disney World even, we can just go to the beach.”
Kurt was shaking his head.
“There's a place in Florida with a live mermaid show, these ladies swim in mermaid costumes under the water,” she said, her heart beating hard in her chest. “Gracy would love it. Please, Kurt, let's just go.” She felt desperate, drowning.
“Stop,” Kurt said.
Elsbeth realized that her words were coming hard and fast, tumbling. But she
couldn't
stop. “We never go
anywhere,
” she said, feeling her voice getting louder. “We never do things like normal families do. It's no wonder Trevor is so messed up. He hasn't gotten to do anything that other kids do. Spending all his time at the goddamned junkyard ...”
“I said stop it, El,” Kurt said.
“... lurking around, taking pictures like some sort of Peeping Tom. It's not
normal
. None of this,” she said, gesturing wildly, toward the box of Pop's papers on the kitchen table, “is
normal
.”
Kurt slammed his fist against the table then, startling her. She felt like she was going to be sick. “Goddamn it, El. Shut
up
.”
She thought about Twig yelling at Ollie barking and barking and barking. Was that what Kurt thought of her? That she was just some annoying, yappy dog? Elsbeth felt tears coming to her eyes and wiped them away. She was suddenly at a complete loss for words. She wanted to storm out, to take off in her car, but as pissed off as she was about his accusations, what if he was right? She shouldn't be driving. She wanted to walk out the back door and just sit out on the back steps to cool off, but the steps were covered in Pop's shit. She was trapped. Trapped inside this house, inside this life, and she felt like screaming.
Kurt stared at her without speaking, but she could see the muscles in his jaw tightening. His fists clenching.
She got up and stormed through the living room, not looking at Gracy because she knew if she did she'd lose it. She went to the bathroom instead and slammed the door. She pulled off her clothes, tore off the bathing suit, and shoved it in the blue plastic trash can with the spent tube of toothpaste and the empty toilet paper rolls. She turned the shower on as hot as it would go and stepped into the steam. The hot water pounded at her sunburned skin, made her entire body feel as though it were on fire. She closed her eyes and put her face under the stream. She felt ignited, ablaze. She would burn anything she touched.
A
fter Elsbeth fell asleep, anger pulsed in time with Kurt's heartbeat in his limbs, and he couldn't lie still enough for sleep to come. And so he got dressed and quietly left her alone in the bed. He was still furious with her, and he hoped that she'd be hungover in the morning. He couldn't understand this, any of this. Elsbeth had always been a good mother to Gracy. This was something he'd been able to count on. She and Trevor had their problems, but the way she was with Gracy more than made up for any failings she had. But now, as he watched her sleep, he wondered if he could trust her anymore. And worse, he worried that there were
other
things he should worry about.
Someone down the road had been setting off firecrackers all night, and the air stank of their burnt remains. He could also smell the hints of a coming storm, feel the tight electric promise of thunder and rain. Still, despite the warnings from the sky, his legs insisted on moving, and so he walked.
Kurt wondered what would happen if he just kept walking one of these nights. If instead of making these ever-widening circles through town, looping back home, he just kept going. What would happen if, instead of traipsing endlessly through the woods and along the river, he just walked out onto the entrance ramp to the interstate and headed north? He wondered how long it would take him to get to the border, any border, how long to walk out of this life and into a new one.
Elsbeth thought he didn't understand, but he did. He knew what it felt like to want to flee. To escape. To leave everything behind. She thought she was the only one who wanted more than this small life. But he also knew that a man has responsibilities, obligations. A father to his children. A son to his father. A man to his wife. You can't just run away. He wasn't Billy.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, but the air was dry. Electric. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept moving. After about fifteen minutes, he came to the place in the road where the two crosses were. He climbed down the steep embankment to them. They looked ominous in the dark, pale reminders of how very precarious things are.

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