The Second Silence (20 page)

‘Hey, fella, you by any chance related to Boomer?’

Son of Boomer, as she already thought of him, woofed in reply, his vigorously wagging tail stirring up even more dust. Mary smiled. It had been twenty years since her last visit, but from the way Corinne’s mother had acted over the phone you’d have thought it was yesterday. ‘Don’t bother knocking,’ Nora had warned. ‘My hearing’s so bad I wouldn’t know to answer. I’ll leave the front door unlocked—you just come right on in.’

They’d settled on Friday afternoon. Nora would be away until then visiting her eldest son, Everett, and his wife, Cathy, who’d recently given birth to their fourth child. The garden had a whole mess of tomatoes coming in, she said. She’d be busy putting them up and could use the company.

Mounting the porch steps, Mary wondered if she ought to have been straight with Nora about her real reason for coming. How would Nora feel when she learned this wasn’t exactly a social call? It had been a long time, yes, but some things you never get over, and losing your only daughter had to be one. Dredging up memories about Corinne was sure to be painful.

But as Mary stepped into the house, as familiar as the one she’d grown up in, it was she who felt as if she’d gone back in time. There was the doorway to the living room with its ascending notches marking the heights of the Lundquist children at various ages. And the stain on the hooked runner where Everett had once spilled a pitcher of grape Kool-Aid. Even the lamp with its cracked shade from when Corinne had gotten a little carried away twirling her baton was exactly as it had been.

In the kitchen she found Corinne’s mother elbow deep in a sink full of suds. As Nora turned to greet her, Mary was struck by how little she, too, had changed. Her beautiful flaxen hair had merely faded to the color of parchment. The fine wrinkles around her eyes were scarcely noticeable against their deep cerulean, the exact shade of the Blue Willow china lining the shelves of the old pine cupboard against the wall. Only her hands, lumpy and twisted with arthritis, betrayed her age.

‘My heavens, you startled me!’ she exclaimed, wiping her hands on the dish towel tucked into the waistband of her denim skirt. She stepped forward to envelop Mary in a hug. ‘I thought you were Jordy, sneaking up on me that way. I sent him out back for more tomatoes.’

She gestured toward the window, where all that was visible of Corinne’s brother was a broad back rising and falling amid the vines that twisted up stakes and spilled over the ground. ‘Lord bless him,’ she went on, ‘he stops by at least once a day to see how I’m getting on. It’s a real comfort, but between you and me that boy sure can eat. You’d never guess he has a wife at home who feeds him.’ Nora glowed nonetheless, as if reveling in the fact that she hadn’t outlived her usefulness.

Mary glanced about the spacious kitchen with its chipped cabinets in need of painting, thinking how different it was from her mother’s Formica shrine to tidiness. A bowl of freshly poached tomatoes sat cooling on the counter; beside it, rows of sparkling Mason jars waiting to be filled. Atop the old-fashioned enamel oven were two loaves of homemade bread, still in their pans, their aroma bringing back memories of Corinne and her tramping in after school, hungry enough to eat a bear.

‘It’s incredible. Nothing’s changed,’ she marveled, slowly shaking her head.

‘I could say the same of you.’ Nora stood back to scrutinize her. ‘Goodness, Mary Quinn, don’t tell me you went and got your face lifted.’

Mary laughed. ‘Even if I wanted to, I don’t know when I’d fit it into my schedule.’

Nora shot her a queer look. Softly, she said, ‘You ought to slow down, Mary. Life comes along but once, and if you don’t grab hold, it’ll slip right through your fingers.’

Nora’s admonition had an unsettling effect that Mary was quick to brush away. She replied airily, ‘I’ll keep that in mind
…
though at the moment it seems I have my hands plenty full.’

Nora pulled the dish towel from her waistband, folding it neatly over the drainer on the counter. ‘Come, let’s you and I sit and have some lemonade while Jordy’s out scaring off the mealybugs. You still like yours with enough sugar to stand a spoon up in?’

Mary smiled. ‘I’m afraid my sweet tooth isn’t what it used to be. I’ll save it for one of your gingersnaps.’

She sank into a chair at the table, slipping off her espadrilles to cool her feet against the tile floor polished to glassy smoothness by decades of scuffling shoes. Watching Corinne’s mother bustle about, setting out glasses and a plate of cookies, Mary once again felt a stab of misgiving for having misled Nora about the purpose of her visit. Maybe she should forget the whole idea. What was the point? After all this time the chances of Corinne’s mother remembering anything new were slim to none.

Her daughter is dead, but yours isn’t. You owe it to Noelle to at least try,
whispered a stern voice in reply.

Mary waited until Nora sat down before asking, ‘How many grandchildren is it now? I’ve lost count.’

Nora beamed as she poured lemonade from a big glass pitcher. ‘Eight, and still counting. Quint and Louise are expecting their third in November. Wouldn’t you know every one of my boys waited until I’d practically given up hope before getting married? Fortunately they all found wives young enough to bear lots of children.’ Her gaze dropped. ‘What about you, Mary? Why is it I don’t see a wedding ring on
your
finger?’

‘Once was enough, I guess.’ She kept her tone light.

Nora nodded knowingly. ‘Well, I can see why you’d have trouble finding someone to replace Charlie.’ She reached for a gingersnap, her knotted fingers scrabbling briefly over the plate before managing to capture one. ‘I remember when you were kids, crazy in love. Can’t say it came as much of a surprise when I noticed you growing feet for stockings.’

Mary blinked in amazement. ‘You guessed I was pregnant?’

‘I have sharp eyes.’ Nora tapped her temple with a finger bent and twisted like a tree root.

Mary sipped her lemonade, feeling flustered and all of a sudden much too warm. She found herself remembering the night she and Charlie had gone skinny-dipping in the lake. He’d told her she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Right then and there she’d decided there would never be anyone but him.

And there hadn’t been, not really.

‘Corinne took it hard when you ran off and got married.’ Nora went on. ‘I think she saw it as the end of something you and she had shared.’

Mary nodded slowly. ‘I sensed it at the time, but I think we were both afraid to admit it.’ A brief silence fell and she became uncomfortably aware of Nora’s bright blue gaze. ‘The truth is, I’ve always felt a little guilty. I should have been there for Corinne. And—and I wasn’t.’

‘None of us were.’ The shimmering intensity of Nora’s eyes was almost blinding. ‘Poor Ira, it near broke his heart that she hadn’t felt she could come to us.’

Mary remembered Corinne’s father as stern but loving. As strong as her own father had been weak. Corinne
had
been more than a little intimidated by him, come to think of it. ‘So you never found out what made her—what was troubling her?’

‘Why, no. That’s what made it so hard, that she didn’t leave so much as a note.’

Mary felt foolishly disappointed. She’d known it was a long shot, but she’d nonetheless hoped for a thread, however slender, that would provide some sort of lead. Now what?

‘I’m sorry for raking all this up,’ she apologized.

‘Don’t be.’ Nora wiped a tear from her eye and reached over to pat Mary’s hand. ‘It’s good to remember, even when the remembering is hard.’

Mary took a deep breath and confessed. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t been very honest with you, Nora. I didn’t come just for old times’ sake. I’m here because of my own daughter.’ She paused, laying her hands flat against the table. ‘I don’t know if you’d heard, but Noelle has a little girl of her own.’

‘I know—read the announcement in the paper when she got married. I remember thinking the poor child didn’t know what she was getting herself into.’ Nora shook her head in disgust. ‘Of all the men to choose from.’

‘Well, she finally wised up. Now Robert’s trying to take their little girl away from her.’ Mary felt a little burst of anger, remembering how smug he’d looked in court.

‘Nothing that man did would surprise me.’

‘What makes you say that?’

Nora pushed aside her glass as if she’d suddenly had too much. ‘I never met anyone colder. Even as a boy, there was something … not quite right about him. At the funeral he acted like he’d barely known Corinne.’ Her hand shot out to close about Mary’s wrist. Her eyes were like twin flames burning in the pale oval of her face. ‘Keep an eye out for that girl of yours, Mary Quinn. That’s all I’m saying.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Mary shuddered, suddenly repelled by the twisted knots of flesh pressing into her hand. She drew away as soon as she could do so without it seeming rude, asking, ‘Nora, is there anything else you remember about that time, anything at all?’

The older woman thought for a moment, then shook her head. ‘Corinne didn’t confide in me much, especially about Robert. It should’ve been my first clue that something was wrong. She didn’t act like you did with Charlie. It was like he had a hold over her
…
only I wouldn’t call it love.’

‘Do you think he had anything to do with’—Mary hesitated to plant an idea that would haunt Nora to her own grave—‘with Corinne’s being so distraught?’

Nora drew a hand over her face as if wiping fog from a windowpane. ‘I know they argued. The last time they were out together, she came home looking upset. She’d been crying. When I asked her what happened, though, she wouldn’t say.’

‘Is that all?’

Nora shook her head. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.’

‘It was a long time ago.
I’m
sorry for dredging all this up.’ Mary reached for her lemonade, which was too sweet even without the extra sugar, and finished it just to be polite. Then she rose to her feet. ‘I should be going. I’ve kept you long enough.’

Corinne’s mother stood up, too, absently patting the pockets of her skirt as if looking for something she’d misplaced. The troubled look was gone from her face, replaced by a warm smile. ‘Nonsense, I enjoyed the company. Here, let me give you some of these cookies to take home. You haven’t eaten a single one.

She was seeing Mary to the front door when she stopped short. ‘Wait. I have something else for you. Meant to give it to you years ago, but with one thing or another I never got around to it. Stay put. I’ll go get it.’

Nora started up the stairs, her hand gripped tightly about the banister. The wall to the second floor was a gallery of framed photos, and a portrait of Corinne with one front tooth missing, grinning like a jack-o’-lantern, jumped out at Mary. She remembered vividly the day it was taken. They’d been in the fifth grade, and Corinne had just been appointed a captain of the girls’ volleyball team. Even though Mary was the worst player by far, Corinne had chosen her first. From that day on, there’d been no separating them.

Corinne, if you’re up there, watch over my daughter. She’s the one who needs you now,
Mary pleaded silently.

Minutes later Nora returned holding something small and square wrapped in a flowered scarf. She handed it to Mary-with the grave dignity of a priest offering a chalice. ‘It’s Corinne’s diary. She’d have wanted you to have it.’

Mary’s heart quickened. She’d forgotten Corinne kept a diary. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Then I’ll treasure it always. Thank you, Nora … for everything.’ Mary hugged her good-bye.

She was walking to her car when a man in dusty jeans carrying a bucket of ripe tomatoes came trotting around the side of the house. Jordy Lundquist was the image of Nora, the same blue eyes and baby-fine blond hair, the same sturdy build. Only taller, by at least a foot. He was waving at her as if she hadn’t seen him, as if she could possibly
miss
seeing him. Mary smiled, remembering when Corinne’s chubby kid brother used to tag after Corinne and her the same way.

He was panting when he caught up to her. ‘Mary! Why didn’t you call out the window and let me know you were here?’

‘Your mother and I got talking, and before I knew it, it was time to go. I’m sorry, Jordy. Another time?’ She put out her hand.

He pumped it vigorously. ‘Next time you’re in the neighborhood stop by the house. I’d love you to meet my wife and kids. I have two, you know—two girls, Jessie and Jillian.’

She smiled at his obvious pride in his family. ‘Thanks, I’d like that. It was wonderful seeing your mother again.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘I hope I didn’t upset her too much.’

Jordy carefully set the bucket down at his feet, eyeing her curiously. ‘Upset her? Heck, Mary, she’s been looking forward to your visit all day.’

‘We talked about Corinne.’

A cloud passed over the sun just then, and Jordy’s eyes seemed to darken as well. She’d expected him to pass it off as perfectly normal—why
wouldn’t
they have talked about Corinne?—but he was looking at her with a sudden wariness that struck a jarring note here in the drowsy summer sunshine with the smell of fresh-picked tomatoes drifting up around them.

‘What about Corinne?’

‘Oh, you know. The old days.’

Jordy seemed to relax. ‘The old days,’ he echoed. A slow smile spread across his broad face, catching in the creases that radiated like sunbursts from the corners of his bright blue eyes. ‘Heck, I could tell a few stories of my own. I didn’t tag after you and Rinny all those years for nothing.’

‘I don’t doubt it for a minute.’ Mary tossed a smile over her shoulder as she climbed into her car. She rolled the window down to wave good-bye. ‘Bye, Jordy. It was nice seeing you.’

Driving home, she thought,
Something happened back there.
Jordy had acted funny when she mentioned Corinne. Why? Because he still hadn’t gotten over her death … or was there something more? She puzzled over it for several minutes before reluctantly pushing it from her mind. No use speculating. When the time was right, she’d pay Jordy a visit, find out what, if anything, he knew. In the meantime, she had Corinne’s diary …