Interrupted Page 2

  I looked around the room and blinked. Nothing. “Get what?” I finally asked.

  “The bird!” Mama shrieked, hurling her pillow at the vanity. “The snake! Oh, Allie, it must have gotten in through the window!”

  I looked at the window. It was closed.

  With an eye on Mama, I inched toward the vanity. Mama’s hair stood up like a madwoman, her face as pale as her nightgown.

  I picked up the pillow she had thrown and scooped up the broken shards of glass. “Oh no,” I muttered. A perfume bottle had broken. Liquid ran down the dresser, staining the pure white wood.

  “Is it gone?”

  “Yes, Mama.” I threw the glass shards into the wastebasket. My breath caught and I glanced down to see blood trickling down my finger. I pressed it in my pajamas and bit my lip. “It went away. Back out the window.”

  “Is it coming back?”

  I turned and looked at my mother. The terror and anger had left from her face, and now she stood on the bed, shaking. Her tangled hair fell across her face as she dropped the pillow she’d been clinging to. Then, without a word, she collapsed on her knees and broke into tears.

  I rushed across the room and put my arm around her, rocking her back and forth. “It’s okay, Mama,” I whispered into her hair. “It’s okay.”

  “Its eyes were so cold, Allie,” Mama sobbed into my lap. “They were staring right at me.”

  “I know.” I stared at the empty vanity, illuminated by moonlight. “It’s gone now.”

  “Allie?” Mama whimpered.

  “Yes?”

  She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes and gripped my hand. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  I gulped down the lump in my throat and nodded. “Of course, Mama. I’ll stay.”

  I stroked Mama’s hair and sang to her softly until she fell asleep. Tears stung behind my eyes, threatening to overflow.

  I buried my face in the pillow. No one else knew. No one else would ever know. I was all Mama needed.

  In the morning, she’d forget all about the snake. She always did. Maybe she’d have a good day again and she’d be able to laugh and chat.

  Or maybe she’d have a bad day.

  No, I couldn’t think about that. There would be no more bad days. As long as I stayed with her, Mama would get better.

  Help her remember, the doctor said. Read her favorite books. Sing her favorite songs.

  I’d done it. I’d read the books. I’d sung the songs. And she still wasn’t better.

  I clenched my fists and stuck one in my mouth to stop the tears.

  “Allie?” Mama whispered.

  “Yes, ma’am?” I wiped my nose on my sleeve.

  “I’m thirsty.”

  I kicked my feet out of bed and went downstairs to get her some milk from the icebox. By the time I got back, she was asleep again.

  I crawled into bed beside her and cried until my eyes couldn’t stay open anymore.

  “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Allie! Happy birthday to you!”

  Mama clapped while I blew out the fourteen candles on my little white cake. The living room was decorated with a few balloons I’d blown up and some old pieces of fabric tied to the staircase like streamers. Mama scooped me into a hug and left the dining room, muttering about a cake carver.

  I was left alone, staring at the smoking candles. Fourteen years, come and gone. My mouth twitched in a deflated smile.

  “Here it is!” Mama announced, coming back into the kitchen with a knife. She flourished it with pleasure and reached out a hand. “My lady, if you please.”

  I placed a plate in her hand and watched as she carved out two thick pieces of red velvet cake. I took a big bite and closed my eyes. Heaven.

  “To eleven years of Alcyone!” Mama smiled, holding up her plate.

  “Fourteen years.” I stared at my fork. “I’m fourteen years old today.”

  “Oh, right.” Mama blinked. She sighed and rubbed the bags under her eyes.

  “I was thinking,” I said, swallowing my bite of cake. “Maybe I’ll play the piano for you this evening. You could rest on the couch and I could play whatever you’d like.”

  “That’d be nice.” Mama’s voice had that distracted sound again.

  I tried to catch her eye, determined not to lose her attention. “I drew a picture with my new chalks last night. Would you like to see it?”

  Mama didn’t answer. She’d tuned out into one of her moods.

  I took another bite of red velvet cake and stared at the wallpaper. It was purple with white flowers, which I’d always thought was a bit odd. But it was Mama’s house to decorate, not mine.

  After we ate, I led Mama into the drawing room and let her lay down on the sofa. We read for a while, and then she asked me to play the piano.

  The keys felt cold and slippery beneath my fingers. When I was little, I’d sit in that same spot for hours, practicing and practicing while Mama sat on the couch, her eyes rarely straying from my hands. Now she snored lightly, oblivious to the noise.

  Within half an hour, Mama had dozed off, a wet washcloth on her forehead from the headache she complained of earlier. She had dressed herself that morning—pulling a dirty dress on over her nightgown and fastening the bursting buttons with six different brooches.

  I kept playing for hours after Mama had fallen asleep. I don’t know why I did, but it just felt right. To keep on playing, no matter what.

  I played Chopin first. Then Mozart. Then Liszt.

  After awhile, the muscles in my hands began to ache. I shut the piano and looked down at the closed cover. I hadn’t noticed how dark the room had gotten.

  “I’m back, Allie.”

  I knew the voice even before I saw who it belonged to. “Hello, Sam.” I didn’t look up from the roses.

  “I don’t know if you remember, but I told you I was going to my aunt Rachel’s house three weeks ago.”

  “I remember.” I stood up, shook out my gloves, and flopped on my sunhat. I squinted at Sam in the afternoon sun.

  His freckled face was scrubbed and his skinny little arms were stuck in his pockets. “Can I help?”

  I turned and knelt by the pansies, not the slightest bit ruffled to be caught in the old, muddy overalls I was wearing. I wiped my cheek with the back of my glove. “It’s a free country.”

  Sam stooped down beside me, getting dirt on his fresh blue jeans. He weeded the pansies for what felt like half an hour, without a word. It was like some kind of miracle.

  I kept stealing glances over my shoulder to see if Mama had awoken from her spot on the back porch. She hadn’t.

  “How was your birthday?” Sam asked.

  I jumped a little, startled at his voice. Then I blushed and looked down so that my straw hat would cover my face. “Good.”

  “Whadja get?”

  Well, I got some chalk from you. I pulled another weed. “Nothing. We just made some cake and sang.”

  Sam wrinkled his nose. “You mean your mama doesn’t get you any presents for your birthday?”

  I pulled the weeds harder. “She is my present.” At least, every day I have left with her is.

  “Oh.” Sam seemed to frown to himself. “Yeah, I didn’t get much for mine either. Daddy said that ever since the government took all our money, we’re not gonna have much to spend for a while. I guess it’s that way for everyone else too.”

  I nodded, only half listening. I patted the dirt around the pansies back into place, then sat back to admire my work. Purple and yellow and burgundy splashes of color filled the little flower bed.

  “Ouch,” Sam said under his breath.

  I looked up to catch him grimacing at his hand. But when he saw me watching him, he quickly hid it behind his back.

  “Let me see,” I ordered, holding out my hand.

  He paused a moment before pulling his arm out and showing me his palm. I gasped. It was covered with red welts and cuts. From pulling my weeds.

&nbs
p; I cleared my throat and dropped his hand. “You’d better come in and get some medicine for that.”

  Sam followed me into the house. “Up on the counter,” I commanded. Sam climbed up and perched on the cold countertop, watching me silently.

  I rinsed his wounds with cool water and rubbed some of Mama’s salve on them. Then I bent beneath the sink and pulled out some clean rags, ripping one into shreds so I could wrap it around Sam’s hand.

  “You’re not like most people, are you?” Sam’s voice sounded curious.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t met most people.” I bit my lower lip. “There,” I said, patting the poorly bandaged hand. “All done.” I looked over my work, feeling like a saint.

  I looked up to see Sam staring at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re awful pretty, Allie,” Sam whispered.

  I gave him a little smile, feeling too charitable at the moment to be annoyed. “Good-bye, Sam,” I said instead. “And thank you for the help with the pansies. They don’t look as bad as I thought they would … you know, with you helping and all.” I cleared my throat.

  Sam jumped off the counter and shook my hand with his good one before walking out the door. “Good-bye, Allie.”

  I rolled my eyes before going back out to the garden.

  I opened my notebook and smoothed down the fresh page. Even without looking up, I could tell Mama was watching me from her seat in the armchair.

  June 18, 1939

  Well, today was a wonderful day. Mama and I worked in the garden and made pancakes and cleaned the kitchen floors together. Mama is so happy; it makes me feel all warm and tingly inside.

  “What are you writing?”

  I looked up, surprised by the coldness of Mama’s tone. She was glowering at me, the light extinguished in her blue eyes.

  “Nothing, Mama.” I lifted the journal so she could see. “I’m just writing in my diary.”

  Mama wrapped her favorite blanket around her tightly and pursed her lips. “What are you writing about?” Her voice began to grow tense. “Are you writing about me, Allie? What are you saying about me?”

  “Mama, calm down.” I reached out a hand toward her. Her eyes widened as she flinched away. My hand suddenly felt cold and empty, suspended in the air. I clenched my fist and let it drop.

  I read aloud what I had written. But by the time I lifted my head, Mama was staring at the clock on the wall, her face expressionless.

  “Allie?” she asked after a few moments.

  “Yes?”

  “Can we go on a picnic tomorrow? Invite that boy, Sam. Tell him to go on a picnic with us tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Mama.” I looked down.

  Mama stared at me. “Call him now. He might forget.”

  I sighed and reached for the telephone on the table. This is going to be embarrassing.

  Sam answered. “Hello?”

  I fidgeted with my skirt. “Um, hello. This is Allie Everly.”

  There was a pause. And then, “Oh, hi, Allie!”

  My face reddened. Thank heavens he couldn’t see that over the telephone. “Mama wanted me to call and invite you on a picnic tomorrow. By the pond, I guess. She’s packing a lunch and everything.”

  “That sounds like fun.” Sam’s voice grew excited. “What time are you having it?”

  I glanced at Mama, who had fallen back asleep. “Probably at noon.”

  “Great!” There was an awkward silence. “Okay. See you tomorrow, Allie.”

  The line clicked dead. I sighed and placed the telephone back on the retriever. Mama snored lightly from the sofa. She looks …

  I gulped down the liquid in my throat and glanced back down at the journal page. A tear escaped my eye and smeared a fresh stroke of ink. I groaned and blew on the page.

  Oh, I’m just so happy! We’re both just so happy in the summer!

  I closed the notebook with a slam and left to do the dishes.

  The water felt deliciously cold, licking my bare toes. I smiled and let my foot make little swirls across the surface of the lake.

  I paused and tapped my pen to my mouth. What’s a descriptive word for love? I racked my brain. Adoration … affection … fondness … devotion …

  I smiled and began scribbling in my notebook again. Devotion.

  My hand began to cramp. That was always a sign that it was time to stop for the day.

  I massaged my fingers and read over the poem. “Mama.”

  It was the perfect description of her. I smiled and lifted my toes out of the water, hugging them to my chest. She’d love to hear it.

  “Allie!” Mama called. “Sam’s here!”

  Raising myself off the little wooden dock, I scooped up my journal and shoes. Beside me, Daphne purred and stretched out. I laughed and nudged her with my foot. “Come on, lazy-head.”

  I walked back through the apple grove, struggling to carry my things. Bending under a twisted branch, I smiled at the twosome sitting on a little blanket.

  “Hello.” Sam’s grin seemed to stretch forever. His dark hair was mussed and there were dirt stains on his trousers. I wondered if he’d been working outside.

  “I packed a lunch,” Mama said, motioning to a basket. It was her tradition. She always packed the lunch, and I never interfered. Never.

  I picked up a jar. “Is that why you brought homemade relish?”

  Mama nodded and smoothed out her dress. Her blue eyes looked so hopeful and expectant.

  I sighed and sat on the blanket. “Very well. We’ll eat what Mama packed.” I opened the basket and looked inside. Mayonnaise … jelly … pickled onions … canned peaches …

  “Mama, did you bring any bread?”

  Mama shook her head, blinking.

  I cursed myself. I should have known she couldn’t pack lunch by herself. She can’t do anything by herself. I forced a smile. “Oh, well.” I pulled out the jar of peaches. “We’ll feast on peaches and pickled onions. That is, if you don’t mind, Sam.”

  Sam shook his head. “I love canned peaches.”

  I screwed open the lid and pulled out a slippery peach. Mama reached out and devoured it in a single gulp. I frowned. “Be careful not to choke.”

  I pulled out a peach for myself. Sticky sweetness slid down my throat. I licked my lips. “Yummy. We sure did a good job on these.”

  Mama smiled softly. “Yes, we did. David always says I don’t cut the peaches small enough, but he doesn’t know anything.” Her brow creased. “Allie, did I cut the peaches small enough?”

  You didn’t cut them at all. I did. I cleared my throat and glanced at Sam. He was studying Mama, his brow furrowing. “Yes, you cut them small enough,” I answered.

  Mama nodded and placed her hands in her lap. “David was going to join us, but I couldn’t find him in the study.” She frowned at me. “When I can’t find him, it’s always because he’s in the study.”

  What in the world is she talking about? I put down the jar of peaches and gently touched Mama’s wrist. “Daddy isn’t here anymore, remember?” My voice lowered. “He left six years ago.”

  “Oh.” Mama smiled. “Well, I don’t care, because I know I cut the peaches small enough!”

  I patted her wrist. “Yes, and they’re very good.”

  Sam nodded. “Best peaches I’ve ever had!” He wiped juice off his cheek and shone that ridiculous grin at me.

  I reached into the picnic basket for the jar of pickled onions. “Onion?”

  Mama didn’t answer.

  I looked up to find her staring in stony silence at the water. “Mama? What’s wrong?”

  She glanced at me. “I refuse to eat with a stranger staring at me.”

  “What are you —” I sighed. “No one’s staring at you.”

  Mama raised a dark eyebrow and glanced at a duck sitting on the glassy pond. I rolled my eyes. “A duck?”

  “It’s watching us, Allie.” Mama folded her hands. “It’s waiting.” She shivered. “I won’t eat while it’s st
aring at me.”

  I sighed and put down the jar of onions, climbing to my feet. My heartbeat fluttered as I glanced at Sam. He clambered up and brushed off his pants. “I’ll help you wrangle the duck.”

  I glared at him. “Thank you ever so much.”

  With one last glance at Mama, I grabbed my shoes and trudged across the orchard.

  The duck stared at us in silence as it glided across the surface of the lake. “Go. Shoo.” I waved at it. This is ridiculous.

  Sam snorted. “Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!” He began waving his arms above his head and jumping about. “Shoo!”

  The duck continued to stare at us, unfazed.

  I looked back at Mama. She watched me, her hands in her lap. The duck obviously had to go.

  I dropped my shoes on the dock. Here goes. I lifted a foot and cautiously placed it in the water, squeezing my eyes shut. How am I going to get the duck if I can’t swim?

  I peeked an eye open and lowered my voice. “Please go before she throws a fit.” Great. Now I’m talking to a duck. I bit my lip. “It’s for your own good, I promise you.”

  The duck stared at me and swam around in smooth circles. Is it mocking me?

  My face began to grow hot. I reached an arm out and pushed at the bird, attempting to physically shove it away.

  The duck jumped up and flapped its wings in a fury, honking loudly as it advanced in our direction. I screamed and in my panic hurled myself backward, landing in the water. I yelled again as the ice-cold water seeped through my thin dress.

  Sam was hollering, half from fear and half from laughter. “Run, Allie! Run!”

  I scrambled to my feet and took off behind Sam. The duck followed, his feathers ruffling.

  The apple orchard had never seemed so immense. I ran through the trees, looking over my shoulder. The duck had finally stopped and was strutting around the pond, the obvious victor.

  I collapsed on the picnic blanket and wrung out my soaking skirt. Darned fowl.

  “Mama, the duck can’t go. I … uh …” I licked my lips. “I spoke to it and it …”

  Mama blinked, smiling at me.

  My shoulders slumped. “Never mind.” I guess I won’t have to worry about duck-filled dreams tonight.

  Sam was snorting in laughter, grabbing his stomach. “That was … that was priceless! The look on your face! You were talking to a duck!” He rolled onto his back. “Oh, this is so nice.” He sighed, a satisfied look spreading across his face.