Skyward (24 page)

“I’ve known Fannie since she was a young girl. Between my mother and me, she grew up around birds and raptors. So helping me with them came easily.”

“Does Marion look like her?”

His eyes glazed as he searched back through the years for the image. “She has her looks, but Fannie’s beauty was…stunning.”

Ella felt a sting of jealousy for the woman she’d never met but whose memory was her rival. She knew that she was not a beautiful woman. Not even pretty. The most people could say about her own looks was that she was pleasant-looking—a far cry from stunning.

Harris ran his hand through his hair and blew out a long stream of air. “Fannie,” he said again, and she couldn’t tell whether his tone was resigned or troubled.

Ella waited, unaware that she was leaning forward, holding her breath.

“She was about ten years younger than me. I thought of her as a little sister at first. She lived down the road with her mama and her so-called family. They were pretty messed up. Her mother had a lot of men Fannie called uncle come through. They’d stay for a while, then rob her or beat her—sometimes both—before they’d leave. It was a pretty sad situation. Anyway, Fannie just showed up at our house one day. She couldn’t have been more than eleven.” He paused and his gaze turned inward, back to those days along the Edisto.

“I’ll never forget the way she looked the first time I saw her. All long, thin legs and big eyes that held way too much sadness and experience for a kid so young. She came looking for odd jobs, and she ended up staying at our house more than her own. So when I started working full-time, I hired her to keep an eye on Mama. She cooked her food, brushed her hair, that kind of thing. She wasn’t that great a cook and never cleaned the house, but she was great with my mother. Sometimes she’d read to her, sometimes they’d just talk. I’d come home and hear them giggling away. My mother adored Fannie. They were a lot alike. Both beautiful and funny. But needy. I didn’t know that about Fannie at the time, of course.”

He pursed his lips in thought and she urged him in her heart to go on.

“We spent a lot of time together growing up,” he continued at length. “When my mother died…it just seemed right that we get married.”

Ella had to struggle to keep the surprise from her face. Did he love Fannie or just feel sorry for her? she wondered. The question lingered on her lips, but she didn’t dare voice it.

“What was wrong with your mother?” she asked instead.

He shook his head, then glanced off at the fishing pole. “She was a diabetic.”

Ella sucked in her breath. “You didn’t tell me that. Harris, you know the genetic link to Marion.”

He nodded his head. “She was also an alcoholic.”

“Good Lord, that’s a bad combination. So, that’s what killed her.”

“No. That was only the means. My father killed her when he left her, years before she ever touched a drop. In fact, she used to say she didn’t like the taste of alcohol. But after my father just up and left, well…” His expression turned cold. “She must have taken a sudden liking to it.”

“Why did he leave?”

“Because he was an asshole,” he said bitterly. “Why does any man up and leave his family?”

“There’s usually a reason,” she said softly.

“If there was a reason, I’d guess it was money. Nothing original there. He was a tomato farmer, like his father before him. For a while the business was really good and he made a lot of money. But when the bottom fell out of the market and the farm went belly-up, I guess he couldn’t stand the pressure. So when the going got tough, rather than see it through, he just went out one night and never came back. No letter, no phone call, no nothing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for me. She’s the one to feel sorry for. She used to sit by the window and wait for him, night after night. Left the porch light on for that worthless son of a bitch.” He shook his head. “It was pitiful. Once she finally accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to walk through that door, only Johnny Walker could comfort her. Not that I didn’t try.”

“How did you get along? You were just a boy.”

“Mama had to sell off the land, bit by bit, to make ends meet. We didn’t need much and we knew how to make a dollar go a long way. And her drinking wasn’t constant. At the beginning, she could go through long periods without touching a drink. Those were the good days. I can remember being so happy coming home to the scent of a meal cooking and seeing the house all picked up instead of a mess. Each time I used to pray it would last. Every damn time. Then, just when I was getting hopeful, all of a sudden something would send her spiraling and she’d go on another binge. I did the best I could to take care of her during those periods. I’d fix her something to eat before I left for school and make us dinner when I came home.”

“She was negligent. They should have taken you away.”

“She was my mother, Ella. I loved her. I was all she had.”

Ella tightened her lips against the familiar raging in her heart. She’d dealt with so many negligent mothers in her career, face-to-face in the hospital as she struggled to patch up the bruises or illnesses of their children in the emergency room. In her mind she saw Bobby’s mother again, the tracks on her arm, the way she sauntered out of the emergency room after dumping her son there. She looked at Harris and felt for the boy who had endured so much.

“Sometimes love isn’t enough. The child’s needs are more important than the mother’s.”

“I did fine,” he said, rejecting her pity. “
She
was the one that needed help. She was the diabetic.”

“Then she was slowly killing herself. She had to have known that.”

“I don’t know that she cared.”

“Didn’t she care about
you?
”

“Of course she did,” he said, his tone defensive. “You’re only hearing the bad about her. She was a lovely woman. Gentle and smart. It’s not her fault she was born with two horrible diseases that took control of her life.”

“But, Harris, she allowed the diseases to take control. She could have tried to stop the drinking and get her life back. To be a better mother to her child.”

“You don’t know, Ella!” he fired back. “You weren’t there when he walked out. You didn’t see her face. It killed her. He took the best part of her with him.”

“You’re right,” she said calmly. “I didn’t know her. But I knew a lot of women like her. Though their stories may be different, the ending is always the same. The children suffer. You suffered, Harris.” She reached out to place her hand on his shoulder. He flinched beneath her palm so she quickly took it away.

“We got along okay,” Harris replied.

Ella heard Bobby’s voice in her mind.
Don’t be mad at her, Ella.
She backed off, not because she agreed with Harris, but because she didn’t want to alienate him the first time he opened up to her. Her heart bled for the childhood he must have endured with parents like that. But she couldn’t feel a lot of pity for his mother. What never failed to amaze her was how the child always forgave the mother, no matter how severe and how obvious the neglect.

From across the water came the high, shrill cry of an osprey. They both looked over toward the nest. The male was perched on a branch higher than the nest, a sleek, gleaming fish in its talons. He looked like a bandit with the black eye band as he tore at the fish with savage pokes of his beak. The female stayed at the nest, watching him eat until she could stand it no longer and cried out again her complaining whistle. At last the male finished his meal and brought the remainder of the fish to the nest for her to eat.

“He’s a good provider,” Harris said of the osprey, approval ringing in his voice.

Ella looked at him as he watched the male fly off to hunt again and thought to herself that to understand the osprey was to understand Harris. Site loyal. A good provider. But what about monogamous? He’d divorced Fannie, which didn’t fit the pattern.

“What happened to Fannie?” she asked, knowing she should let the subject drop, but unable to. “I heard she had an addiction of her own. Is that why she left?”

He laughed shortly and it was filled with bitterness. “I seem to have a history of addicted women, don’t I?”

“No,” she said, gently. “More a history of taking care of dependent women. It’s no wonder your mother and Fannie got along. They were birds of a feather. I’ll bet Fannie let your mother drink while she took care of her.”

Harris blanched. “There was no stopping her when she wanted to drink.”

“If she didn’t leave the house, how did she get the alcohol?”

“Alcoholics are very resourceful. If you don’t know that, then you don’t know the first thing about what it’s like living with one. Deliveries, friends, a few dollars greasing palms… Yeah, Fannie too, I’m sure. I used to pour the stuff down the sink, but it got to the point it didn’t matter where she got it from. She always got it.”

“You let her get it.”

“What?” He was stunned by the comment. And angry.

Ella didn’t back down this time. “You were the one in charge, Harris. At some level, you allowed the drinking to continue. That’s called enabling.”

“I know what that is,” he fired back. “I’m not an idiot. And you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I think I do,” she persisted. She was seeing the painful pat tern of denial unfold, and though it was clear to her, she doubted Harris could see any of it. Without resolution it would remain embedded in the family and move on to afflict Marion as surely as the diabetes had.

“You can fire me for this, Harris, but I’ve got to say it. Marion might have your mother’s disease, but she’s not your mother. She’s not Fannie, either. Don’t hold back your affection from her. She’s not going to hurt you. Marion has so much love to give you, if you’ll just give her the chance.”

“I’m not afraid that she’s like my mother, or even Fannie!” His face was distorted with pain. He pinched his lips and looked off across the creek. When he spoke again, his voice lowered. “I’m afraid she’s going to die. That I’m going to lose her, too. And it will be my fault.”

Ella held her breath as, suddenly, she understood it all. He’d told her this, many times, but she didn’t hear him. He was afraid that he’d somehow slip again and she’d die—because of him.

She put her hand on his, and this time, he didn’t flinch or pull it away. “I understand that kind of fear. Really I do. Do you remember I told you about Bobby? I was afraid to take this job. Terrified to handle another case of diabetes. But I knew if I didn’t, I’d never reconcile his death and I’d spend my life crippled with wondering what I might have done. How I might have changed things that night, if only… You don’t know how I was tortured by those two words.
If only.
” She paused. “I probably always will be.

“But I have another chance with Marion. So do you. I can’t tell you that Marion won’t get into trouble again, no matter how hard both of us try. With juvenile diabetes, serious complications are a reality. We have treatments, but not a cure. But we can take care of her, every day. The better care she has, the better her chance of avoiding the problems. She’s a wonderful, vibrant, healthy child.”

Harris closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the light shining in Ella’s eyes. It was like too much sun on already tender skin. She’d been so damned determined to get the truth out, digging deeper and deeper. He’d be mad except he must’ve wanted to get to the truth himself, because he didn’t stop her. He hadn’t always distanced himself from Marion. They’d been close before the illness. After all, it had been just the two of them. If he looked at himself honestly he could see that Ella was right. His attitude had changed since the diabetes. His fear kept pushing her away.

When he opened his eyes he saw a gleam of silver flash at the surface, like dozens of torpedoes.

“Mullet!” he exclaimed, sitting bolt upright.

“What?” She jerked her head around.

He leapt to his feet, going for the net. “Quick! They’re coming for the bait.”

“But my cork isn’t bobbing!”

The water rippled with the motion of countless mullet, a few jumping clear from the water. Ella climbed to her feet, holding tight to her pole. The fish ignored her hook and swarmed instead for the mash that was fast disappearing.

“Stand back,” Harris called out, and with one fluid motion he tossed the net upon the bubbling water. Its edges flirted with the air, hung in the sky, then dropped into the teeming water. “Okay, we’ve got some!” he called, and tugged the net, dragging it in close to the pier. The captured fish struggled, his muscles strained and the net heaved as it broke the water. Ella grabbed hold of the net and together they hauled up the fish.

“How many are in there?” she asked, breathless.

He dragged the pulsing net farther down the pier, calling out, “Lots. Grab the bucket, Ella!”

Inside the net were at least ten mullet, each a foot to a foot and a half long. Each flipping hard on the pier. He scooped them up one by one and plopped them in the bucket.

“Harris!” Ella called, running back to the end of the pier. “My pole! It’s moving!”

“Hook the fish, Ella,” he called back at her, bent over the net, laughing. “Go on, you can do it! Just give it a yank, not too hard. Then pull that baby out of the water.”

He paused to watch Ella holding tight to her pole, her cheeks red from the sun and wisps of hair flying. Her face was the very picture of determination. He knew he’d keep this image tucked away in his memory.

The pole bent near to the water before she tugged, firm and sure, bringing the pole far back. Out from the water came a glistening silver mullet, sailing through the air in one smooth motion. It landed on the pier with a thump.

“I got one!” she exclaimed disbelievingly, running with her arms outstretched to catch the mullet before it leapt back into the water. “And it’s the biggest one!”

Harris chuckled as he brought over the bucket. “That’s what they all say. It’s a funny thing about fish. They seem to grow with each telling.”

She laughed loudly then, happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time. The tension between them was over, and like a storm that rages then passes, the air in the aftermath seemed clearer and fresher than before.