All the Little Lights
Page 46
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I opened the door just enough that he’d pull away, feeling sentimental as I watched the Chrysler drive farther down the street. A tear welled up in my eye. I was ignoring the inevitable, selfishly enjoying my time with Elliott while I could. After graduation, he was going to leave me—again—because I couldn’t go with him. Mama didn’t have anyone else. Last time, it was his mom’s fault; this time it would be mine.
As the door opened, I saw Poppy in her favorite dress sitting in the middle of the floor, her face in her hands.
“Poppy?” I said, kneeling beside her. “What is it?”
She looked up at me with wet eyes. “I tried to help today. I tried, and I think I broke the washing machine.”
I took in a deep breath, trying not to panic. “Show me.”
Poppy stood and led me by the hand to the utility room. Suds and water were all over the floor, the machine silent. I reached behind to turn off the water and then peered into the drum. Towels that were once white were now pink, mixed with Mama’s favorite red sweater that was supposed to be washed by hand.
I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Oh my. Well, first things first . . . the mop.”
Poppy scampered off and, within seconds, brought me the mop and a bucket.
“Poppy . . .”
“I know. No more helping.”
“We’ve talked about this. When you’re here, you wait for me.”
Poppy nodded, her finger in her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“So what have you been up to?” I asked, hoping she’d talk while I worked. I put dry towels into laundry baskets and then separated the soaked items.
“How are you going to fix it?” she asked.
“I think,” I grunted, “if I just tighten the hose, it should be okay. I wish Elliott . . .” I trailed off.
“Elliott who?”
I smiled. “Elliott’s a friend.”
Poppy frowned. “The boy with the camera?”
“Yes, from the backyard. I forgot you were there that day.” I stood up and stretched my back. “Now where do you suppose we’ve put the wrench?”
I looked through cabinets in the kitchen and utility room, finally finding the toolbox in the cabinet next to the washing machine. I pulled the washer away from the wall and, after a few turns of the wrench, turned on the water and then the washer, and watched as it filled without leaking all over the floor.
Poppy clapped. “See? You didn’t need Elliott.”
“I guess not,” I said, blowing a strand of hair from my face. “You know what we should do now?”
Poppy shook her head.
I hugged her to me. “We should read Alice in Wonderland.”
Poppy stepped back and bounced up and down, clapping again. “Really?”
“Yes, and then I have to work on a paper.”
“I’ll get the book!” Poppy said, leaving me alone in the utility room.
“Isn’t that paper due on Monday?” Mama asked from the kitchen.
I wiped my brow. “Yes, but . . . I was going to talk to you about Friday night. Elliott has a game. It’s out of town.”
Mama didn’t answer, so I walked around the corner. She looked better than she had the night I’d found her in the basement. She seemed rested, the color back in her cheeks.
“Mama?”
“I heard you. You said you had a paper due Monday.” She was busy putting away dishes, avoiding eye contact.
“I was going to start on it tonight so I’d have it finished in time.”
“What about the rest of your homework?”
“I’ll get it done.”
“What about the Juniper?”
I fidgeted, picking at my fingers until I conjured up the courage. “I’d like Friday night off.”
It took a full minute for Mama to answer. I knew Duke was close, so I hoped she wouldn’t get angry and her yelling would get his attention. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d tried to discipline me for Mama.
“If you just tell me what you need done, I can try to finish it Thursday night. And Friday morning before school.”
She looked away, shaking her head.
“Mama . . .”
“You listen to me, Catherine. I knew that boy was trouble the first time you talked about him. You moped around this house for two years after he left, and now that he’s back, you’ve fallen right back into his claws. He’s using you. The second he graduates, he’ll be out of here, and he won’t look back.”
“That’s not true.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know that he’s asked me to come with him after graduation. He wants to travel, Mama, and he wants me with him. He . . . he loves me.”
She turned her back to me and chuckled, the tittering, scary laugh she had just before she lost her temper. But this time, she was quiet, and that was more frightening than Duke.
“You’re not leaving,” she said finally. “We discussed it.”
“Who discussed it?”
“The guests and me. The other night. We agreed.”
“You agreed? Mama,” I pleaded, “what are you talking about? The guests don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to decide.”
“You’re staying.”
“The game is just ninety minutes away,” I begged.
“After graduation, I need you here. You can’t go.”
Everything I wanted to say caught in my throat behind years of pent-up frustration and loneliness. She knew what I’d been through, how miserable I was in the Juniper, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t, because the alternative was to sink with the ship. My shoulders sagged. Part of me hoped she would release me and tell me to go. “I’m not going after graduation, Mama. I’ve already decided.”
Mama turned, wringing her apron in her hands with tears in her eyes. “You have?”
I nodded, and Mama walked the few steps to wrap me in her arms, her shoulders shaking with each sob. “Thank you, Catherine. I told them you wouldn’t leave us. I knew it.”
I let her go. “Told who?”
“You know . . . the guests. Except for that Bill fellow. I don’t think he’ll be back,” she said, almost to herself. “Althea is the only one who thinks it’s a good idea that you go.”
“Bill?”
She waved me away. “Oh, Mr. Heitmeyer. He was fit to be tied when he left. He’s the sort who needs a cold shower. I don’t know what the fuss was about.” She cupped my shoulders. “Catherine, you keep this place running. You keep us together. If it weren’t for you, we couldn’t keep going the way we are.”
I frowned, letting her words simmer. “I’m taking Friday night off.”
Mama nodded her head. “Okay. That’s fair. You just . . . you promised not to leave.”
“I know what I said.”
I left her to go upstairs, picking up my backpack along the way. A flash of black caught my eye, and I passed my bedroom and the guest rooms to peer around the corner. A four-wheeled carry-on was standing with the handle fully extended next to the stairway that led to Mama’s room. I checked the luggage tag, praying I wasn’t right.
WILLIAM HEITMEYER
674 OLEANDER BOULEVARD
WILKES-BARRE, PENNSYLVANIA
18769
My breath caught, and I backed away from the roller bag. There were two rows of suitcases in the basement, all with different names. Mr. Heitmeyer’s would be added to the pile of things left behind—that’s what Mama called them. My head began to spin, and my chest felt tight. People didn’t just leave things behind. I didn’t believe that anymore. Not since Elliott came back.
As the door opened, I saw Poppy in her favorite dress sitting in the middle of the floor, her face in her hands.
“Poppy?” I said, kneeling beside her. “What is it?”
She looked up at me with wet eyes. “I tried to help today. I tried, and I think I broke the washing machine.”
I took in a deep breath, trying not to panic. “Show me.”
Poppy stood and led me by the hand to the utility room. Suds and water were all over the floor, the machine silent. I reached behind to turn off the water and then peered into the drum. Towels that were once white were now pink, mixed with Mama’s favorite red sweater that was supposed to be washed by hand.
I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Oh my. Well, first things first . . . the mop.”
Poppy scampered off and, within seconds, brought me the mop and a bucket.
“Poppy . . .”
“I know. No more helping.”
“We’ve talked about this. When you’re here, you wait for me.”
Poppy nodded, her finger in her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“So what have you been up to?” I asked, hoping she’d talk while I worked. I put dry towels into laundry baskets and then separated the soaked items.
“How are you going to fix it?” she asked.
“I think,” I grunted, “if I just tighten the hose, it should be okay. I wish Elliott . . .” I trailed off.
“Elliott who?”
I smiled. “Elliott’s a friend.”
Poppy frowned. “The boy with the camera?”
“Yes, from the backyard. I forgot you were there that day.” I stood up and stretched my back. “Now where do you suppose we’ve put the wrench?”
I looked through cabinets in the kitchen and utility room, finally finding the toolbox in the cabinet next to the washing machine. I pulled the washer away from the wall and, after a few turns of the wrench, turned on the water and then the washer, and watched as it filled without leaking all over the floor.
Poppy clapped. “See? You didn’t need Elliott.”
“I guess not,” I said, blowing a strand of hair from my face. “You know what we should do now?”
Poppy shook her head.
I hugged her to me. “We should read Alice in Wonderland.”
Poppy stepped back and bounced up and down, clapping again. “Really?”
“Yes, and then I have to work on a paper.”
“I’ll get the book!” Poppy said, leaving me alone in the utility room.
“Isn’t that paper due on Monday?” Mama asked from the kitchen.
I wiped my brow. “Yes, but . . . I was going to talk to you about Friday night. Elliott has a game. It’s out of town.”
Mama didn’t answer, so I walked around the corner. She looked better than she had the night I’d found her in the basement. She seemed rested, the color back in her cheeks.
“Mama?”
“I heard you. You said you had a paper due Monday.” She was busy putting away dishes, avoiding eye contact.
“I was going to start on it tonight so I’d have it finished in time.”
“What about the rest of your homework?”
“I’ll get it done.”
“What about the Juniper?”
I fidgeted, picking at my fingers until I conjured up the courage. “I’d like Friday night off.”
It took a full minute for Mama to answer. I knew Duke was close, so I hoped she wouldn’t get angry and her yelling would get his attention. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d tried to discipline me for Mama.
“If you just tell me what you need done, I can try to finish it Thursday night. And Friday morning before school.”
She looked away, shaking her head.
“Mama . . .”
“You listen to me, Catherine. I knew that boy was trouble the first time you talked about him. You moped around this house for two years after he left, and now that he’s back, you’ve fallen right back into his claws. He’s using you. The second he graduates, he’ll be out of here, and he won’t look back.”
“That’s not true.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know that he’s asked me to come with him after graduation. He wants to travel, Mama, and he wants me with him. He . . . he loves me.”
She turned her back to me and chuckled, the tittering, scary laugh she had just before she lost her temper. But this time, she was quiet, and that was more frightening than Duke.
“You’re not leaving,” she said finally. “We discussed it.”
“Who discussed it?”
“The guests and me. The other night. We agreed.”
“You agreed? Mama,” I pleaded, “what are you talking about? The guests don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to decide.”
“You’re staying.”
“The game is just ninety minutes away,” I begged.
“After graduation, I need you here. You can’t go.”
Everything I wanted to say caught in my throat behind years of pent-up frustration and loneliness. She knew what I’d been through, how miserable I was in the Juniper, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t, because the alternative was to sink with the ship. My shoulders sagged. Part of me hoped she would release me and tell me to go. “I’m not going after graduation, Mama. I’ve already decided.”
Mama turned, wringing her apron in her hands with tears in her eyes. “You have?”
I nodded, and Mama walked the few steps to wrap me in her arms, her shoulders shaking with each sob. “Thank you, Catherine. I told them you wouldn’t leave us. I knew it.”
I let her go. “Told who?”
“You know . . . the guests. Except for that Bill fellow. I don’t think he’ll be back,” she said, almost to herself. “Althea is the only one who thinks it’s a good idea that you go.”
“Bill?”
She waved me away. “Oh, Mr. Heitmeyer. He was fit to be tied when he left. He’s the sort who needs a cold shower. I don’t know what the fuss was about.” She cupped my shoulders. “Catherine, you keep this place running. You keep us together. If it weren’t for you, we couldn’t keep going the way we are.”
I frowned, letting her words simmer. “I’m taking Friday night off.”
Mama nodded her head. “Okay. That’s fair. You just . . . you promised not to leave.”
“I know what I said.”
I left her to go upstairs, picking up my backpack along the way. A flash of black caught my eye, and I passed my bedroom and the guest rooms to peer around the corner. A four-wheeled carry-on was standing with the handle fully extended next to the stairway that led to Mama’s room. I checked the luggage tag, praying I wasn’t right.
WILLIAM HEITMEYER
674 OLEANDER BOULEVARD
WILKES-BARRE, PENNSYLVANIA
18769
My breath caught, and I backed away from the roller bag. There were two rows of suitcases in the basement, all with different names. Mr. Heitmeyer’s would be added to the pile of things left behind—that’s what Mama called them. My head began to spin, and my chest felt tight. People didn’t just leave things behind. I didn’t believe that anymore. Not since Elliott came back.
