Chapter 34 Frannie
How could Claire not know about Red? When you loved somebody and were married to them, weren’t you supposed to know everything about them?
“Frannie,” Paul yelled from where he and Vicky were putting the tent poles together. “We need a hammer for the stakes. Could you ask around and borrow one?”
“Sure thing,” Frannie called, but she wasn’t done with her sister. “Claire, are you really okay?” Frannie didn’t believe the lame story about Claire taking Beth to Idaho.
“I’m fine,” Claire said.
That old line. She let out a long breath and stood up. “I’m going to find a hammer and when I get back you’re going to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
She headed down the gravel road toward a campsite with a tent set up next to a red-and-white trailer.
A mom and dad sat at the picnic table with a girl who looked about sixteen.
Playing cards were scattered on the table between them.
Frannie remembered her manners, introduced herself, and said, “Do you have a hammer we could borrow? Just for a couple minutes.”
The dad put down his hand of cards. “Sure do, young lady. It’s in the trunk of the car.” He disappeared toward a wood-paneled station wagon.
“I’m Mildred Wilson,” the mom said with a friendly smile. “And this is Connie.” The girl nodded shyly at Frannie. She had long hair in barrettes like Frannie used to wear and a pimply chin.
Two girls ran up from the river and Frannie did a double take. The girls were carbon copies of each other, including the mud splatters on their bare legs and grass stains on their matching short sets.
“Mom, Mom,” one of the girls said, “we asked the ranger about the bear—”
“—and he said it was because of the full moon,” the other girl finished.
“Girls, say hello to Frannie,” Mrs. Wilson said. “Frannie, this is Jean, and this is Jan.”
“Hiya,” Frannie said. She expected the mother to scold her daughters for being such a mess, but she didn’t. The girls said hello, then began to chatter about a bear and a forest ranger.
Frannie felt a wet nose on her leg.
“It’s just Sadie,” Connie said when Frannie made a start of surprise. “She’s friendly.”
“She’s so cute.” Frannie ran a hand over the dog’s silky ears with a pang of envy. “I wish my dad would let us have a dog.” She’d begged him for years, but he’d always said three girls were enough.
Connie dropped her voice with a glance toward the car, where they could hear her father rummaging. “Dad says it was a moment of weakness when he brought her home, but he really has a marsh-mallow heart.”
Frannie felt a pang of envy. A dad with a marshmallow heart would be nice.
The man came back with a hammer in his hand. “Strangest thing about that bear,” he said. “He barreled through here like he was being chased by the devil himself. Never seen anything like it.” He gave Frannie the hammer. “Where are you from, Frannie?”
Frannie figured since he was doing her a favor, it was only polite to talk for a while and actually she didn’t mind. They were a nice bunch. She told him she was from Minnesota and was working as a savage at Canyon.
“We’re from Livingston, but my Mildred here isn’t too keen on Yellowstone.” He smiled fondly at his wife.
Mildred Wilson shuddered. “It sets my teeth on edge, to be honest, with those mud pots and hot pools. Doesn’t feel right.”
“She likes to fret,” Mr. Wilson said. “She told me she wanted to get out of the park before the whole thing blew up.” He gave his wife an indulgent smile. “I’d rather fish, so fine by me.”
“Thanks for this,” Frannie said hefting the hammer.
“I’ll bring it back in a minute.” As she headed back toward their spot on the river, her shoulders drooped and her steps were slow.
That family had it all. A sweet mom, a nice dad, and even a dog.
Why couldn’t she have a family like that?
She searched her memory for the last time her family had fun together.
It had to be before Claire married Red. Maybe before Claire went to Yellowstone that first summer.
She guessed it was about the time she’d started dating Jonny and hanging around his friends.
That’s when Dad had started harping on her, and she’d taken to staying in her room and listening to her record player.
Her insides squirmed in an unpleasant way as she remembered Claire asking her to come downstairs one winter night. “We’re going to make hot chocolate, your favorite,” Claire had called through her bedroom door.
“Leave me alone,” she’d shouted, annoyed that Claire thought she was still such a baby. Frannie stopped for a minute at the river. There had been a time when she and Dad got along. They’d play cards, or go to the Chatterbox for ice cream. She could talk to him without fighting.
She picked up a rock and threw it in the dark water. He really seemed to love her back then.
One time, when she was about fourteen, she’d asked him about Mother.
Bridget was in nursing school and Claire had gone on a date with Luke.
She and Dad were playing crazy eights at the kitchen table.
“We’ve done fine without her,” Dad said curtly.
She wanted to tell him then that she wasn’t fine.
She wanted a mother, like all her friends had, but it seemed like a mean thing to say. Like Dad wasn’t enough.
“I heard you tell people she passed away,” she said, even though her dad’s face and voice said he was done talking about it. “You tell me not to lie.”
“I say she’s not with us anymore,” he said. “It’s not a lie.” He looked tired, and maybe sad. He put away the cards in the middle of the game and told her to go to bed. Was that why Bridget and Claire never talked about Mother? Because it made Dad sad?
Frannie looked toward their camping spot and saw Vicky and Jerrylynn roasting hot dogs over the fire.
Claire and her friend Beth were sitting with the neighbors, eating sandwiches.
Frannie had been pretty terrible to Claire since she got to Yellowstone.
Just thinking about it felt like a big river rock was sitting in her stomach.
She headed toward the campsite. Maybe she should tell Claire she was sorry for being a brat, and then Claire might tell her what was really going on with Red.
Paul was almost done getting the tent up. She gave him the hammer, and Jerrylynn handed her a stick with a hot dog on it. “I saved you one.”
“Thanks.” Frannie was hungry enough to eat a horse. She glanced toward Claire again. Maybe now wasn’t a good time to talk to her sister with all those people around.
Frannie stuck the hot dog into the flames. Vicky passed her a can of beer and started singing “Yes, We Have No Bananas.” Frannie joined in. She would talk to Claire and tell her she was sorry, but not tonight.
Tomorrow was soon enough for all that junk.