Homecoming (37 page)

When her mom didn’t answer the door, Jill walked around to the back. Wearing her summer uniform of khakis and a cotton shirt, her mom was on her knees in front of a bed full of dahlias. “Those look great,” Jill called out across the yard, twitching when her mom started visibly.

“I hate to have someone sneak up on me,” she said, her shoulders hunching in anger. She hadn’t even turned around, but Jill knew the exact expression on her face. Her brows were drawn together, mouth pursed tight. Like she’d just eaten something unexpectedly sour.

Speaking as softly and gently as she did after startling the cats, she said, “I’m sorry, Mom. I thought you were expecting me.”

“I’m busy, Jill. Do you think I’m sitting here watching the clock?”

“No, of course not. I just…” Trying to explain herself was a waste of time and energy. She walked closer. “Can I help?”

Her mother finally looked up. Jill had asked this question at least a thousand times, and for the entirety of her youth the answer had always been an unqualified “no.” In the last few years, however, she’d proven herself competent enough to assist in a few things.

“Your father’s supposed to keep the front yard up, but he does a terrible job. Why don’t you cut the grass and edge the walk and the drive? Then I don’t have to supervise him.”

Jill’s shoulders dropped and, without comment, she went to the garage to get the mower. She’d driven two and a half hours to cut the grass—a half acre away from her mother. Typical family time for the Henrys.

***

After finishing the yard, Jill went into the house to get a cold drink. Her mother was sitting close to the house, drinking what looked like lemonade. She held up the glass. “I was going to offer you some, but I never know what you can have with your allergies.”

Blinking in surprise, Jill started to say a mild ragweed allergy didn’t have much bearing on her diet, then a dim memory hit her. “Do you mean the egg allergy I had when I was really young?”

“People die from those every day of the week, you know. You’d better be careful.”

“Yeah. Okay.” She went inside, took a glass from the perfectly organized cabinet and filled it with water. Gazing out at the lovingly manicured yard, she thought about her mother’s comment. Her egg allergy had been really mild, and it had disappeared by the time she’d started school. But she did remember her mom focusing on it much more than she should have. Was she just frightened of things she couldn’t control? Jill had no idea. She went out and pulled a chair over close to the house to keep it in shade. As soon as she sat down, her mother got up.

“I think I’ll run over to the garden center.” She started for the house, then stopped. “Will you be here when I get back?”

The garden center she liked was almost in Brattleboro. She’d be gone for two hours—at least. The lack of an invitation to join her wasn’t an oversight. She didn’t like passengers in the car. “No, I’ll probably be gone by then.”

Her mom gazed at her for a minute, like she was going to say something important. Jill maintained eye contact, only to hear, “Can you drive a screw straight?”

“Yeah. What do you need?”

“I’ve got those frames I put around the evergreens along the front of the house. Could you put them together for me? They’ll fill the garage, but I’d like to have them ready just in case we get an early snow.”

It was August the thirtieth. And her mother wanted to fill the garage with big, plywood covers that looked like sidewalk advertisements. Jill knew whose car was going to be sitting outside until those covers were put over the plants. Her father was treated like an unwelcome houseguest.

“Do you have a drill?”

“Of course. You know where everything is.”

Well, that much was true. Everything was neatly boxed and labeled. If you couldn’t find something in that garage, you just weren’t trying very hard.

While Jill finished her water, her mother had gathered her things, then come back outside. “You don’t need to go inside, right?”

“I guess not. I’ll just close the garage door when I’m done.”

“Good. Now if you’re not
sure
you can do it right…”

“I’m pretty sure, Mom,” she said, strangely pleased at having essentially been given a promotion. She’d never been asked to do anything that required decision making.

“Oh. I have a birthday card for you.” After looking through her purse for a moment, she pulled it out. “I would have mailed it, but I don’t trust the mailmen not to steal anything that looks like it might have money in it.”

Jill started to open it, but her mother was already walking to the car.

“Drive safe,” she called out. “Half of the people on the road are crazy, and the other half don’t care what they hit.”

“Bye,” Jill said, the all too familiar feeling of abandonment hitting her in the gut. Each time it was a sucker punch, but she’d learned to ride it out, to reassure herself the feeling wouldn’t last long and that she had friends and love in her life. Still, it was so hard to maintain that perspective when she’d always felt like she was bothering her mother. Like her mere presence was an inconvenience that her mom would really rather be without.

As the car backed out of the long drive, Jill waited, hoping for a final glance. Or a smile. Even a wave to show they’d had some sort of connection. But her mother stared at the rearview mirror as she backed out quickly and precisely. The way she did everything—with a robotic lack of emotion.

***

After finishing her tasks, Jill spent most of the afternoon cooling her legs in one of the most charming spots in her very charming home town. The town pool was tiny, barely big enough for twenty people standing shoulder to shoulder. Actually, it was more of a pond than a pool, with a stone edge and black water that looked like it might be any depth you could imagine, but it was just four feet deep, and always chilly. Jill assumed it was fed by a nearby stream, but she’d never bothered to ask. All she knew was that it was a little piece of heaven to sit on the edge and smile at the kids who came by to tentatively poke a toe in, then run back to their moms, insisting it was freezing cold and deeper than the sea.

Her smile grew much bigger when a hand settled on her shoulder. She looked up to see Lizzie staring down at her. “I tracked you on your phone.”

Jill started at her feet and let her eyes travel up what seemed like yards of shapely, muscular legs. “Where did you get those shorts?”

“High school. Or maybe college. When I saw you were over here, I figured you might be in the pool.” She plucked at the tiny shorts, so brief they wouldn’t have covered her regular underwear. “These were all I could find.” She kicked off her flip-flops and stood on the single step. “You’re staring,” she teased, reaching down to shut Jill’s mouth. Then she sat right next to Jill and leaned against her. “I have a great father,” she said, sighing.

“I know that.” Jill pressed back against her. “Wanna tell me how great he was this particular day?”

“Nothing unexpected. He asked me a few questions, then said he was surprised. No judgment at all. Just surprise.”

“That makes sense. I think that was true for your mom too.”

“He wants to talk to you,” Lizzie said, her eyes dancing with devilish pleasure. “I think he wants to know your intentions.”

“Now?”

Still smirking, Lizzie nodded. “He’s waiting.”

Immediately, Jill scrambled to her feet, picked up her running shoes and waited for Lizzie to join her. “Why aren’t you moving?”

“I’ve already talked to him. He wants to see you. Alone.”

Jill could feel the blood drain from her face. “Oh, shit. Am I in trouble?”

“Maybe,” she said, singing the word like a kid.

“You’re getting way too much enjoyment out of this.”

“Look at the bright side,” Lizzie called after her as she started to walk. “He’d never hit a woman.”

The Davis house was two minutes from the pool, and Jill’s legs were still cool and damp when she got there. Mike was sitting outside in the backyard, a beer in his hand when he looked up and waved Jill over.

Awkwardly, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Hi,” she said, unable to think of another word.

“Did Lizzie tell you she could have knocked me over with a feather?”

“Uhm, yeah,” she said, finding herself nearly nonverbal.

“I had no idea she was attracted to girls. But to you?” He took a long drink of his beer, then looked her up and down. “You probably want a beer too. You don’t mind getting it yourself, do you?”

“No, not at all.” She got up and made for the house, but he redirected her.

“Right there by the porch. In the cooler.” She opened the battered cooler, recognizing it from her childhood. The Davises didn’t throw things away while they still had useful life in them. She loved that about them. Jill grabbed a beer, twisted off the cap and put it into her pocket. Then she went back and sat down next to Mike.

“I didn’t say this to Beth…Lizzie,” he corrected himself. “I’ve got to get better at calling her what she wants to be called.”

“She appreciates that,” Jill admitted. “But she knows it’s a big change for you and Janet.”

“She likes to keep everyone on their toes.” He elbowed Jill playfully. “Don’t think you’re going to escape that.”

“Oh, I know I won’t. Not a doubt in my mind.”

“Right. Well, I didn’t say this to Lizzie, but I always hated it when she brought a guy over. That last one—Jon, especially.”

“Really? I thought he was a good guy.”

“He was a big lunk.” He stuck his hand out a few inches from his chin. “Bushy black beard. Broad shoulders. Looked like he could wrestle a bear and give it a run for its money.”

“And you didn’t like that…”

He made a face. “I didn’t like to see a
man
put his hand on my little girl. I know that’s stupid,” he added, “but it gave me the willies.”

Laughing at the way he said that, Jill asked, “It won’t give you the willies to think of Lizzie with me?”

He clapped her on the back. “I’m not going to give one minute’s thought to what you two do behind closed doors. What I don’t know won’t hurt me.” His teasing smile faded as his voice took on a sober tone. “I know you’ll treat her well. You won’t hurt her like some of those jerks did.” His hand moved until it settled on her shoulder, where he gave it gentle pressure. “You’re a hell of a nice girl, Jilly. I couldn’t ask for better for my baby.”

The tears were filling her eyes before she had a chance to stop them. She wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I’d give anything to have a talk like this with my own dad.”
Damn it!
She hated to let things like that out.

Mike reached over and pulled her close. Jill rested her cheek on his shoulder, sniffling for a few seconds.

“I’ve always thought of you as the daughter I got to pick. When you think of it, that’s much better than a blood relation. Sometimes the only thing you share with a relative is DNA.” He released her and she sat up and wiped her eyes again. “We chose you because we love you, Jill.” He patted her gently on the cheek. “I’m just a little worried.”

“About me?”

“Naw,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m afraid Lizzie might run you ragged. She can be a handful, you know.”

“I know,” she admitted, laughing. “I had a girlfriend who I broke up with because she never challenged me, never argued or stood up for herself.”

“That’s not my…Lizzie,” he said, obviously catching himself on the name.

“No, it’s not. We’ve already had more arguments than I ever had with the woman I’m referring to. But I think that’s good. I know I’ll have to jog to keep up, but I think I’m up to it.” She swallowed and said what was in her heart. “I just want to make her as happy as she makes me.”

He slapped her on the leg. “She’s happy. Happier than she was the whole time she was with that ox who called himself a brewmaster. She seems more settled, Jill. Like she’s got something figured out.”

“I think that’s true,” she said, realizing that was exactly what it seemed like. Jill wasn’t sure why, but Lizzie had been afraid of committing to a woman. She prayed with all of her heart that was a hurdle she’d cleared.

“Is she still talking about having a dozen kids?”

“A dozen?” Jill said, ripped from her thoughts.

Mike let out a bark of a laugh. “Last time she talked about it, she was down to just a few. But kids are important to her, Jill. Always have been.”

Nodding, Jill said, “We haven’t talked about it yet, but we’ll figure it out. If she needs kids to be happy, we’ll have some or adopt some.” She felt a smile build. “Having kids with Lizzie sounds like a heck of a lot of fun, to be honest.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, grinning at her. “Might as well give in and let her lead. That’s the secret to a happy marriage.”

Mike had a radio next to his chair, and he turned it on. “How about a little baseball? Sox are down in New York tonight.”

A dog barked, loudly. Then a fluffy gray thing raced around the house and stood a few feet away, barking like he wanted Jill and Mike to get up and follow him.

Then a girl, probably high-school aged, came running around the corner. She stopped as abruptly as the dog had, and stared with the same perplexed expression.

“Hello, Grace,” Mike said. “Do you know Jill Henry?”

Jill stood, expecting the girl to offer to shake hands, but she didn’t make any indication she was going to do that.

“I know who she is.” This was clearly Mark’s daughter. Jill could pick out pieces of Mark and Lisa, all combined to form a pretty, sober-looking kid. Her hair was brown like Lisa’s, but she had Mark’s coloring, along with his freckles.

“It’s good to meet you,” Jill said, deciding to sit if the kid wasn’t going to shake her hand.

“Why are you here?” she asked. The words were ruder than her tone, which simply made her sound genuinely puzzled. “Don’t your parents live in town?”

“Yeah, they do. I visited them earlier, but right now I’m having a beer with Mike.”

“I thought Lizzie was here.”

“She’s over at the pool. Wanted to cool off.”