Interrupted (8 page)

“So, does this … Charlie … write poetry too?”

I snorted. “Hardly.”

“So who inspired you?”

I took a deep breath. “Mama.” I looked at him and tried to look happy. He was watching me intently, as if I were an insect or something. I squirmed and focused on the rock. “It was her dream for me to become a famous poet. Our dream.” I swallowed. “I’m going to do it one day.”

My heart crumbled a little around the edges; I’d put all thoughts about my life with her out of my mind a long time ago.

“You know, I can remember what she was like before the sickness,” Sam said, rubbing his hands together. “I never did see her much, but the few times I did she was really sweet. She treated me like I was an adult, not a little kid.” He turned and looked at me. “I think you’re a lot like her.”

“Really?” I smiled. “How so?”

Sam shrugged. “Your mother lived out her fantasies. And I think you live out yours too.”

I barked out a laugh. “You think it’s my fantasy to live here in Maine?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s to write.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” I pressed my lips together.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry, Allie. I know it must have hurt.”

I twisted the end of my pajama top around my finger and then let it go. “Not at first. But as she got worse … the things people said … That’s what hurt. They called her crazy. It got to the point where I couldn’t even go into town anymore.” My eyelids slid shut, blocking out the tears. I cleared my throat and tried again.

I bit the side of my mouth and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. What was this? I never cried anymore. I was like these ocean-side rocks now.
Firm, steady
. “I didn’t understand how people could be so cruel. So judgmental.” I shrugged and trailed to a stop, not trusting myself to talk.

Sam was silent. Listening. And I realized he was the only one who might truly understand what I’d gone through.

I cleared my throat. “We never went out anymore. You know that.” I peeked at him between closed lids. “After that I took care of her; took care of the house. I made the meals and cleaned and looked after the cat. Right on up until she died. Sometimes …” I opened my eyes again, but this time the stars were blurry. Unrecognizable. “I would have kept on doing it, Sam. I would have kept on cleaning forever if it had kept her alive. Honest.”

I turned and looked at him. He was watching me. Sam smiled a little and nodded. “I know.”

An awkward silence fell over us. I shook off my tears and settled back on the rock. “Um, can you see the Big Dipper?”

Sam pointed at the sky. “Up there. It’s the one that kinda looks like a crooked pencil.”

“It does not!”

“Does too!” he protested. “See it, there? Hmm? A crooked pencil, I’m telling you!”

I huffed and jumped up. “I’m leaving. You’re a bore, Sam Carroll.” I could hear him laughing as I walked back up the beach alone.

“Allie!”

I turned and waited, a teasing grin ready.

Sam smiled. “You haven’t changed.”

My stomach tickled. “Thank you.” I paused. “I’m glad.”

I
opened the back door and crept through the kitchen. A light was on in the library. Not good.

I put one foot on the staircase, and was met with a loud creak. I cringed.
Please, no, please …

“Allie?”

I sighed and trudged into the library, where Beatrice was sitting in her reading chair, a book discarded in her lap. She took off her glasses and looked up at me.

“Alcyone Lovell,” she said, crossing her arms. “Would you please read me the time on that clock?”

I glanced at it. “Two thirty.”

“AM?”

I refused to answer, looking down at my bare toes on the Oriental rug.

Beatrice heaved a heavy breath. “Allie, where have you been?”

I glanced up. There was genuine concern on her face, stinging my conscience. “You wouldn’t care,” I muttered, kicking the floor.

That caught her attention. “What do you mean? Allie, I’ve been sitting here for over an hour …”

“Of course you’ve been sitting here.” I crossed my arms. “You’re always sitting there … So patient. So perfect. Just waiting for me and my stupid mistakes to mess up your life again.”

Beatrice’s face flushed. “Now listen here, Alcyone,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “This is
my
house and in it we abide by
my
rules. And I will not have you —”

“Your house?” My voice broke and I slid into the armchair across from her. “Of course it’s
your house
. It’s always been
your house
. This has never been
my house
.” A tear slipped down my cheek. I brushed at it and looked down.

All the anger and frustrations of the past four years still felt bottled up inside me. It seemed like I was always hurting — always lashing out. But the issues never really felt settled.

“Alcyone.” Beatrice sounded pained. I knew she was probably tired and didn’t feel like having this conversation again right now, but she pressed on. “Allie, I’ve always wanted this to be our house. I’ve always wanted us to be a family.” She reached out and placed her slightly wrinkled hand over mine, squeezing it.

I knew she meant it. She meant every word of it. She was the perfect mother and I was the ungrateful adopted child. It was only by her charity that I had a roof over my head, much less a place I was supposed to call “home.”

My eyes stung. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I’m just … I’m just sorry.” I ducked my head and walked out of the room.
A family. Sure
.

“Allie?” Beatrice called.

“Good night.”

I ran up the stairs and shut the door of my room, collapsing on the bed.
A fine family this is
.

I heard footsteps in the hallway and someone knocking on the door. “Allie?” Beatrice, of course. “Allie, can we just get this out? Just talk about it?”

I answered her with silence.

“Allie?”

I muffled my sobs into my pillow and waited until I heard the footsteps retreating. Then I rolled around and fell asleep.

Charlie looped her arm and mine and giggled like a true Southern belle. “So,” she drawled, looking around at the rationed items on the grocery shelf.
Tuna fish? No. Green beans? No
. “If you don’t want Russell Wilkinson, honey, can I please have him?”

I widened my eyes and looked around. We were in a
grocery store
. People were probably
listening
, for heaven’s sake. “Charlie,” I hissed, “you make him sound as if he were an item on our list!”

Charlie pursed her scarlet lips. “Allie, sweetie, I’m serious.”

She probably was. I took a deep breath and picked up a loaf of bread. “Charlie,” I said, making sure to keep my voice low, “what would you possibly want with Russell? I thought you were waiting for some tall, dark, European stranger or something.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “The Europeans turned out to be jerks. Look what they got us into.” She smiled and squeezed my arm. “No, honey, rich is the way to go.” She wiggled her pencil-thin eyebrows. “And Russell certainly has that down to a point.”

I couldn’t help laughing as I picked up a box of cereal and dropped it into my basket. We continued down the aisle, grinning widely at the people around us. “Charlie,” I said out of the side of my mouth. “He’s five foot six and carries around a pet poodle.”

Charlie examined a box and smiled coyly. “I’ve always considered myself a dog lover.”

“More like a gold lover,” I muttered.

“Cash, dear! Cold hard cash! Besides, Russell’s not bad looking. You make him sound absolutely dreadful.”

I raised my eyebrows and dragged Charlie toward the checkout. The boy behind the counter helped us load our groceries and rang them up. I exhaled obnoxiously at Charlie. “I suppose if you’re into the gangly, feminized type …”

“Allie!”

“What?” I widened my eyes innocently. Then I saw Charlie’s face. She was serious. I composed my features and pulled out my ration stamps, handing them to the grocer. “Fine. You can have Russell, if you really want him. I’ll try to break the news to him tomorrow.”
There’s nothing I’d enjoy more
.

“Thank you, darling! I owe you.” Charlie reached over and squeezed me, her perfume overwhelming my nose for a brief second. But I smiled and squeezed her back.

A bell dinged at the front of the shop and Debra Wilkinson
sashayed in. When she spotted us, her eyes lit up. I cringed and tried to avert my face, but Charlie grabbed my arm. I shot her a look before turning to smile at Debra. “Here’s your chance,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth. “Impress Russell’s mother.”

“Allie and Charlotte!” Debra cooed as she rushed up to us, holding out her arms. “What a lovely surprise!”

“Mrs. Wilkinson,” I oozed back.

“Allie, darling, did Beatrice tell you about a little party I’m hosting next week? It’s a sort of benefit—you know, for the war effort. I
do
hope you can come.” She simpered at Charlie as an afterthought. “Both of you.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wilkinson, but I —”
Ouch
. Charlie had dug her clawlike fingernails into my arm. I fought back a wince.

“We’d love to,” Charlie purred, flashing Mrs. Wilkinson one of her hundred-watt smiles.

I tried to discreetly shake my head at her, but she refused to look my way. I grinned, trying to mask my pain. “I’ll pass the message on to Beatrice.”

“Oh, thank you, Allie! You’re an angel!” Mrs. Wilkinson beamed at me. I thought I saw her raise an eyebrow coolly to Charlie before passing on.

As soon as she was out of sight, I dropped the smile and ripped Charlie’s hand off my arm. “What were you thinking? Do you want me to die of mental insanity at that party?”

Charlie’s eyes shot to the ceiling. “Allie, it can’t be that bad. Besides, where else would I wear my blue gingham and ensure that Russell sees me?”

The thought of trying to impress Russell made me gag.
I grabbed my bags from the clerk and turned to go. “Really, Charlie, don’t you think you’re being a little —”

“Who’s Russell?” a voice asked.

I yelped and whipped around. Sam Carroll was standing behind me with that silly smirk, his hands in his pockets. I put a hand over my mouth. “You scared me.”

“So I see.” Sam gave me a wry look. “Seems to be a habit of mine.”

“Russell is a friend,” Charlie said. “A good friend. And you are?”

Sam swept into a bow right in the middle of the grocery store. “Sam Carroll, your ladyship.”

Charlie giggled as he kissed her hand. “Delighted.”

This was sort of sick. Sam and Charlie?

“Sam, this is Charlotte Cooper,” I muttered.

“May I call you Charlie, Miss Cooper?” Sam asked, the perfect gentleman.

“I shall be quite mad if you don’t.”

Whatever happened to Russell?
The girl was positively fickle!

I flung one of the brown paper bags at Charlie before slinging the other on my hip, suddenly feeling like an ugly duckling stuck outside the pond. I glared at Sam and looped my arm through Charlie’s. “We were just leaving, actually. Good-bye, Sam.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, amused. “Bye.”

I tried to hold my head up as we walked out of the door. Or rather, I walked, while Charlie more or less strutted. Did she have to wear such high heels? To the
grocery store
?

“Who was that?” Charlie whispered, looking over her shoulder.

“An old friend.”

Charlie smiled. “I’d like to get to know him.”

I’m sure you would
. I avoided her eye as I loaded the groceries into the car.

“What?” Charlie stared at me, looking confused.

Did I say that out loud?
I bit my lip, my brain scrambling for a way to explain my ugly remark.

Charlie turned slowly and placed a hand on her hip. She watched me, curious. “Is there something going on between you and him?”

“What?” I tried to laugh, slamming the car door shut. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, clearly.” A smile played around in the corner of Charlie’s mouth. “I’m not being serious, if that makes you feel better. I could care less about Sam Carroll.”

The way she said his name bothered me. It sounded sneaky, like she was waiting to get my reaction.

I brushed my hair over my shoulder and shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Charlie laughed and hopped in the passenger seat. “Sure.”

Bing Crosby was playing as I walked in the front door. I dropped my keys on the table and looked around, confused. “Beatrice?” I called as I pulled off my sweater.

Beatrice never listened to Bing or Fred or Louis. The only music she ever played in
her house
were records from the turn of the century, when she was some kind of debutante in Maine.

“Allie, is that you?”

I walked toward the parlor. “Yeah, I just got back from —”I walked into the room and froze. In the loveseat was the back of a young woman.

Beatrice smiled. “Look who just walked in.”

The woman turned her head and grinned, showing perfect white teeth behind hot pink lipstick. “How
are
you, darling?”

I screamed and dropped the groceries. “Irene!”

She laughed and held out her arms, which I ran into. I closed my eyes and breathed in. She smelled just the same — perfume mixed with cherry soda. Sometimes I thought Irene was the only good thing that came with my moving in with Beatrice. She pulled back and looked me over. “
Gosh
, honey, I’ve
missed
you! It’s been what? Three months?” She squeezed my shoulder. “It’s so good to be home!”

I let her hug me. Even hugged her back, a little bit. “How was Florida?”

She widened her eyes and laughed. “Hot. I don’t know
how
Daniel stands that heat every day. One
hour
in the military would kill me.”

I smiled. “Well, a training camp isn’t nearly as bad as the actual fighting front.”

An awkward silence filled the room. Irene looked pained. Beatrice coughed and shook her head at me. “I’m sure Daniel will handle it well,” she said, but the cheer in her voice didn’t show up in her eyes. “I’ve always said that a strong will can stand the harshest drill.”

“Yes, well, I suppose you’re right. God is with him, I know. Protecting him and getting him ready to come back to me
soon.” Irene winked and sat back down on the loveseat, scooting over for me to sit beside her. “
So
, darling, Mom was just bragging on you. She said you won a writing award with a check for
fifty dollars
. Out of
everyone
in the
school
!”

I blushed and ducked my head.

Irene wiggled her eyebrows. “I always
knew
our girl had it in her. She’ll grow up to be
famous
yet!”

I fidgeted in my seat and tried to look happy. She didn’t mean to upset me, after all. Irene squeezed my arm with her long pink nails as she looked around the parlor. “
Gosh
, Mom, you really need to redecorate. It’s been like this since I was a girl!” She laughed. “This place looks
centuries
old!”

Beatrice chuckled and folded her hands in her lap. “I always have been one for tradition. You may have gotten me to play that confounded record, Irene, but you will not convince me to redecorate my home. Not in a million years.”

My home
. Did she realize how often she said that? I recrossed my legs.

“Allie, I heard there was a certain
something
going on between you and a young fellow here,” Irene said with false brightness. She looked at Beatrice and winked.

I blushed.
How did she …

“A young man by the name of Russell, perhaps?” Irene’s eyebrows danced.

Oh
. I shook my head. “No, no, there’s … really nothing going on between us.”

“Oh, pish-posh.” Beatrice beamed at Irene. “Russell’s crazy about Allie.”

Much to my discomfort
. I pretended to enjoy the conversation
and took the time to study Irene. Her bright red hair was fading into a burnt auburn, her flawless skin was wrinkling just a little around the eyes and mouth. Even her eyes had clouded over a little.

Is time away from your husband that difficult, or did I just not notice her aging before?
I frowned.
She can still hardly be much older than thirty
.

“Well,” Beatrice said, pushing away from the table. “I’d better go get supper on. You two keep on talking.” She gazed at us a moment more before walking out, humming contentedly to herself.

Irene watched her leave and smiled, her eyes crinkling. “I’m so glad she’s happy,” she said. “You’re taking such good care of her, Allie. I wouldn’t trust her with anyone else.” Irene laughed and nudged me. “She’s a special woman. She deserves to be taken care of, you know?” She lowered her voice. “She’s blessed to have a daughter like you.” As she stroked my hand, her eyes clouded over.