Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 (8 page)

***

Caleb came in from the barn mid-afternoon. “Looks like rain,” he said as he took off his hat and hung it on a peg by the door. Savrene and Samuel rushed up and each hugged a leg.

“I’d better get the clothes off the line.” Arianna dried her hands and hurried past in search of her basket. When she returned, he caught her arm.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked quietly.

“The clothes will get wet.” Her eyes were fixed beyond him. There was an iciness in both their words and actions that had dragged on for days.

“Later then. After dinner.”

She nodded curtly. He let go of her arm, and the spring of the back door squealed as she rushed outside.

When she returned, her hair was glistening with the first drops of rain. “How long do you think this will last? I have piles of laundry to get through.”

Samuel and Savrene went back to their toys at the staircase landing. He went to the window and surveyed the skies. “Looks like a short summer storm. Thunder for certain.”

Arianna huffed with irritation. Even Mother Nature wasn’t willing to cooperate with her.

“Where’s Felicity?”

“Sleeping.”

Caleb went to the cradle by the window. He closed it with a grunt, saw that the thin blanket was tucked in well around her and stroked her cheek with his finger. He wouldn’t say so out loud. In fact, he wouldn’t even admit it to himself, but he felt a pull to Felicity that he didn’t feel with his other children. He loved the twins no less, indeed. Savrene was so strong and independent, and Samuel was kind and gentle. But there was something about Felicity that made him favor her just a bit more. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d missed her birth and had tremendous guilt over that. Felicity’s small pointed nose and jet-black hair were so much like her mother, and she, even as an infant, had that same air about her that demanded love and attention, bordering worship. Caleb was helpless to not.

With a wistful smile still on his face, he turned.

“Hey, Mom,” he said as he passed Ethel’s chair. Her arm was hanging out the side, her chin to her chest, a book lay open on her lap.

“Don’t wake her up!” Arianna hissed. “I’m hoping to get dinner on first.”

“How’s she been today?”

Arianna shrugged, grunted, and poured him a cup of coffee. It was leftover, reheated from the morning, and the way she sloppily poured and plunked it on the table was a clear indication she was doing so out of sheer obligation.

“Quiet, thank God. Gave me a chance to mop the floors and clean the cupboards.” One was standing open where she’d pulled the spices out for the night’s rabbit.

Caleb frowned. He didn’t like how they’d become progressively more barren as the weeks had gone by.

He spoke suddenly and without thinking. “I was considering asking Jon if I could come back to the boat on the weekends.”

“They don’t fish on Sunday,” she replied, unimpressed with his sacrifice.

“I could go out alone on Sunday.”

She fluttered her hand.
Do whatever you want
it seemed to say.

He glanced off to the side, frustrated. He desperately wanted everything to be normal again and it was far from that. He heard Arianna violently chopping a carrot. The noise seemed to disturb Felicity, and she began to grunt.

Arianna dropped the hand holding the knife to her side and let her head fall back. “Dammit.”

“I’ll get her,” Caleb said.

At Caleb’s touch, Felicity quieted. He bounced her on his shoulder, pacing with short steps. He heard Arianna resume her chopping with a little less force. Turning to make the length of the living room again, he paused and squinted. Something wasn’t right. In fact, Caleb realized as the hair on the back of his neck raised, something was very, very wrong.

“Ahna, how long has my mother been sleeping?” he called.

“Since after breakfast.”

Caleb inched closer. “Mom?” he said gently, nudging her chair with his toe.

“Please wait to wake her up,” Arianna called. “Let me get dinner in the oven.”

He ignored her and reached out taking his mother’s arm that was dangling over the arm of the chair.

It was stiff.

He yelled for Arianna.

She came but didn’t rush. Caleb hastily put Felicity back in her cradle. He turned and pointed with a shaking hand.

“What?” Arianna glanced between Caleb and Ethel.

“Check for a pulse.”

When she hesitated, Caleb rushed forward. He wedged his fingers between her chin and neck. He didn’t need to search for a pulse that wasn’t there. She was cold.

With his hands on his head, he took a few steps back. “Oh, no,” he whispered.

Arianna stood, staring, barely breathing herself. The house took on a deafening silence.

“How long has she been like this?” Caleb asked, his voice breaking. Arianna hadn’t moved the smallest of muscles.
“How long?”
he screamed.

Arianna looked over with wide, skittish eyes. “I…I don’t know.”

Caleb broke down in sobs, not wanting to look at either of them. Savrene and Samuel were in the doorway, looking on with fear and concern. Samuel reached over and took Savrene’s hand.

“How could you go the whole day and not know she was dead?” he turned and yelled at Arianna. She winced but didn’t take her eyes from Ethel’s body.

Caleb walked past the twins and braced his hands on the counter, his head hung down. Arianna’s face was a blank slate. She went forward slowly and knelt by the chair, putting her hands on Ethel’s arm. She looked like she was sleeping. It was easy to pretend for just a few more moments that she was. Her eyes closed, her face relaxed, one hand still rested on her favorite book—the one she loved for David to read to her. Arianna had one fluttering thought she was able to grab on to.

We don’t need that little house now
.

She rested back, sitting on her heels, eyes still on Ethel’s shock of unruly white hair. Finally, a second thought.

I should cover her up
. But she made no move to do so. The sound of a strong man choking against tears in the background echoed around in her mind but did nothing to spur her to go to him. Felicity had worked up to a good wail and it, too, fell on Arianna’s deaf ears. There was only one thought now. It started as a distant whisper and grew more insistent until it filled every corner of her mind. She heard it, understood it, and accepted it.

I am the most horrible person that ever lived.

***

Jonathan and Aryl joined Caleb as the sun was setting. He was weaving through the blueberry trees as if he were checking on the budding flowers and the general health of the small orchard, but in reality, he saw nothing. His hands moved automatically, his mind shrouded in sadness.

“They’re here to take her,” Jon said as he approached, “if you want to say goodbye.”

Caleb rolled a leaf between his thumb and finger. “I already did.”

“They want to know when you’d like to have the funeral.”

Caleb looked over and then up, desperately trying to think. “I don’t know. Soon as they can.”

“I told them she’s to be buried next to your father. I know that’s what you all wanted,” Aryl said.

After a delay, Caleb nodded. “Thank you.” He began to walk, Jonathan and Aryl following with some distance. Once out of the orchard, he pressed his back against a tree and slid down.

“I knew she wasn’t well. I knew it would happen one day. Maybe even one day soon. I just never expected…”

“You never do expect it. And you’re never prepared,” Jonathan said, thinking back to the sudden death of his own parents in an automobile accident. Some days, it felt like decades ago. Other days, it felt as if it had just happened.

Aryl remained quiet. With both his parents still alive, he didn’t feel like he had anything to say that would help. And having witnessed both his friends lose parents, he dreaded his own inevitable loss even more.

Caleb drew his knees up. “I keep having the thought that it’s for the better, you know? That’s crazy.” He ripped a handful of grass and then tossed it aside. “She was miserable, incontinent half the time, scared, losing her mind… but to think that it’s
better
that she’s gone is…”

“Is one way to look at it,” Jonathan said, sitting down. “I know I’ve had that thought a few times. And I can tell you I’m glad my parents aren’t here to deal with the struggling, with the hand to mouth existence. They worked hard their whole life, and it wouldn’t be fair that they suffer in the end. There’s nothing wrong with being glad she isn’t going to hurt anymore.”

Caleb pressed his lips together and gave a hard nod. From the corner of his eye, he could see the mortician and his assistant carrying Ethel’s draped body away.

***

Muzzy never had free time. She only had the time she allotted to certain things. Today she had allotted two hours to helping Peter with the house. She still had three weeks before she had to be out of her building but knew time would creep up faster than a dreaded deadline.

With a metal scraper, she worked bits of old wallpaper off the plaster in the foyer.

“It’s a shame. This is really a nice pattern.”

“We can replace it with something else eventually,” Peter said. He was in the dining room, standing on a bucket, painting around the light fixture on the ceiling with a lovely bright white. Muzzy glanced at her master, the clock. “I’m going to go meet with Grace Whittley in half an hour.”

“When you’re done there, are you coming back?” he asked.

“No, I need to get the copy ready for tomorrow’s paper.”

Peter frowned. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

“Have more good news?” Muzzy asked, leaning back to see him past the doorway.

He forced a smile. “Just wanted to talk to you about some things. Maybe I’ll finish up early here and meet you over there.”

She shrugged, went back to her frantic scraping, trying to get the most done before she had to leave. For the first time ever, she willed time to move faster, anxious to meet the new potential contributor to the Rockport Review.

***

Arianna had locked herself in her room. Each of the women, Maura included, had knocked, tried to talk to her, and got no reply. After a few hours, the door finally cracked for Ava and she slipped in.

Arianna was so intoxicated that she could barely walk. Somehow, she made it back to her bed. She flopped down on her stomach. Ava sat beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Arianna didn’t talk and Ava was glad. She didn’t want to seem cruel or discount Arianna’s grief, but she certainly didn’t understand why it had thrown her into all this when it was Caleb’s mother who had died. But she’d never really understood Arianna and assumed the sobs and tears were the release of months of pent-up tension from a very difficult situation. She sat beside her silently until she fell asleep.

***

Grace Whittley was waiting in the open door for Muzzy to arrive. She called hello and pushed her wheelchair back to allow room for Muzzy to enter.

“Nice to meet you, Grace,” Muzzy said and took the girl’s hand. She looked about Muzzy’s age, with long blonde hair, large brown eyes, and bones light and delicate as a bird. Looking down further, she could see why the girl was cripple. Her legs were twisted, deformed to the point where they looked different lengths.

“Please, come sit down,” Grace said, leading the way into the parlor. It was a large, neat room with tall windows letting in a lot of light. At least two bookshelves were set against every wall crammed and stacked with books. In the center of the room sat a desk and typewriter. “I’m so happy you came. I don’t get many visitors.”

“I’m glad, too. I don’t get many people offering to help with the paper.”

Grace came to a stop by the window and turned her chair around. Muzzy sat in a nearby high backed chair.

“I have every paper you’ve ever published. I was so happy for Rockport to have a real newspaper and even more pleased that a woman was running it.” From a nearby table, she pulled a sheet from atop a stack.

“Here’s your first one,” she said, grinning. Of course, Muzzy had a copy of every issue starting with the first, but it had been months since she’d looked at the earlier ones. It was nothing more than a two-page newsletter really. It hit her then how much she’d grown since the release of this glorified leaflet she had been so proud of. With a wistful smile, she handed it back to Grace. 

“I heard you like to write?”

“I had dreamed of being a journalist, back before I accepted just how bad my legs were. When you’re young, you think there’s nothing that can stop you, even your own limitations.” She glanced down at the odd shaped bony knees jutting from her skirt. “I used to be able to walk. But then things kept getting worse, and I know now that I can’t chase stories and search for leads. Since my life has been nothing but reading and writing, I thought I could still find a way to contribute.”