CHAPTER 7 #4
Earlene’s breath came heavier now. “Oh. I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to intrude. . . .”
“That’s all right. You’d find out eventually anyway. It was very sad, especially for her children.”
“She had children?”
“Two girls. Lucy and Sara. They’re eight and five now.
Young, but old enough to remember her.” Helen paused, listening to the whir of cicadas hang in the summer air for a moment, suspended over them like anticipation, then evaporate into silence.
“They actually seem to have come to terms with it. Susan wasn’t .
. . a happy person, I guess you would say.
The girls probably see it as some sort of relief. ”
Helen heard Earlene approaching again. “Your poor brother.” Earlene’s footsteps stopped. “What about this one? It’s a small stone angel stuck by itself in the corner.” She paused and Helen pictured her leaning down to examine it more closely. “There’s no inscription on it.”
“It’s a bit of a mystery, I’m afraid. Nobody seems to know what it is or how long it’s been here. Susan was obsessed with it. I think that’s why Tucker chose to bury her nearby.”
She reached out for Earlene’s arm and felt again the reassuring pressure of her hand as Earlene brought it to the crook in her elbow—the one without the scar this time.
“Did he love her very much, then?” Earlene began to lead her toward the gate.
Helen stumbled on something soft and small and stopped to pick it up. She held it out to Earlene. “It feels like a glove.”
Earlene took it from her hand. “It is. It’s a man’s riding glove.”
“It must be Tucker’s. He comes here sometimes to clear the weeds and put flowers on Susan’s grave.
He’s living at the tabby house, where you saw me coming down the path earlier.
If you wouldn’t mind, could you please stick it in the mailbox as we pass it?
” Mardi began nudging her hand. “It must be eleven thirty—time for his treat. He doesn’t like me to forget. ”
“Smart boy,” Earlene said. “Can I take you back to the house?”
“No, just to the driveway if you wouldn’t mind. Mardi and I can find our way back from there.”
They walked back slowly in silence as Helen thought about Earlene’s question and how she still wasn’t sure how to answer it. When they reached the mailbox, Earlene stuck the glove inside and closed it.
Helen had her face turned toward the house, a small smile on her lips.
“When Tucker and I lived here with our parents, we were pretty much allowed to run wild. Tucker was the most dedicated prankster I’d ever known, drove our parents crazy.
He was always hiding things in the mailbox—like your toothbrush or left shoe.
Once he put Mama’s new kitten in there but the mewling gave it away.
He got in a lot of trouble for that, I remember.
” Her smile faded a bit. “But he was so scared of thunderstorms. Whenever it rained, he’d crawl into my room and sleep by the side of my bed.
Daddy found him there once and I told him that I’d been scared of the thunder and Tucker was there because I asked him to.
I didn’t want Daddy to be angry with him. ”
“And you’re still close?”
Helen shrugged. “As close as he’ll let me get, which isn’t too close these days.
It’s like he thinks I couldn’t see what was between them, that I didn’t know.
. . .” She stopped abruptly, remembering that she was speaking to a virtual stranger.
She smiled brightly. “Well, never mind our family dramas. I’m sure you have your own to deal with and don’t need to add ours. ”
Earlene was silent for a moment before answering. “Yes, well, thanks again for your offer to help. I know my friend will appreciate any information I can find.”
Helen tilted her head to the side. “You don’t sound like an Earlene. Is that really your name?”
There was a brief pause before Earlene answered. “It is. But I’ve always gone by my nickname.” She didn’t elaborate.
Ah. “Then I’ll call you Earlene until you tell me different.”
“Thank you,” the other woman said, gently releasing her arm from Helen’s grasp. “I’ll call you once I get my notes in order and maybe we can meet to discuss them.”
“Sounds like a plan. Why don’t you come by for supper tomorrow night at seven? I’m hoping my brother will join us and you can meet him.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there.”
“Just wear a dress or a skirt and put some lipstick on. Malily cannot abide a woman in jeans.”
“How did you know I was wearing jeans and no makeup?”
Helen smiled brightly. “I can hear the jeans rubbing as you walk, and as for the lipstick, well, that was just a guess.”
“You’re good,” said Earlene, a smile in her voice. “Scary, but good.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. See you at seven, then.”
“Good-bye.”
Helen waited with Mardi as she listened to Earlene head out in the opposite direction, her limp more pronounced than before.
Using her cane, Helen began walking toward the house, knowing without a doubt now that whatever it was that had really brought Earlene to Asphodel Meadows hadn’t been a friend’s request and that the scars she bore were more than just the visible ones.