He smiled, leaning into me like I was the parent and him the child.
The thing was, I knew he was telling the truth. He did love all of us. Why wasn’t that enough anymore?
“Gary?”
I whirled. Mom stood by the sofa. She wore a flowered housecoat. Her face was clean of makeup, and her hair was mussed. She looked young and vulnerable. I glanced over at Junie, assuring myself she was safe like I did whenever Mom entered the room. I was happy to see some color had returned to Junie’s cheeks.
“Are you all right, dear?” Mom asked, gliding toward Dad. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“I was comforting Heather,” Dad said, straightening himself at the same time he pushed me away. “It’s been a difficult time, as you know.”
“That’s not a job for a father,” she said to him, her voice dreamy, her arms out. “Comforting a child is a mother’s duty.”
I stepped back, welcoming the hug, but instead of embracing me, Mom reached for Dad, kissing the top of his head, murmuring soft words that made the years slide off his face. Junie and I shared an incredulous look, me because I couldn’t believe she’d almost hugged me, Junie because she couldn’t remember when they used to be like this. I could, barely, but it’d been so long. Mom held Dad a lot before the accident. The way it made him glow, I used to think she was shining his soul.
“That’s more like it,” she said, craning back to study his face, and then smiling at me. “Why didn’t anyone tell me we were having a game night?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“My responsible girl,” Mom said, coming over to caress my cheek and then gently guide me back to my chair. My spine tensed in alarm. “My poor girl,” she continued. “Your father told me about Maureen. No one can carry another’s burden, but we can bear witness to the pain. I’m here now, Heather. Your mom is here.”
I blinked, the room so quiet that I could hear the soft click of my lids. She had been asleep when Nillson told us about Brenda. She thought we were up because I was upset about Maureen. But that awareness barely registered.
She was mothering me.
“Gary,” she said, smiling vaguely at him, “I’m thinking I’ll bring Gloria a hotdish. That poor woman. And all the times she’s tried to apologize to me, and I wouldn’t let her. It’s time we put the past behind us, don’t you think?”
Dad nodded, his face gone marionette.
“That’s what I thought,” Mom said. She floated into her chair across from Dad, the one she rarely occupied. “Now who wants to deal me in?”
CHAPTER 40
Mom insisted she was well enough to attend church the next morning. Maureen’s funeral was supposed to immediately follow the service, but it came down the party line that it was being postponed out of respect for Brenda’s family and the search for her.
We were all quiet on the drive to Saint Patrick’s, the steamy morning air clouding the windows. When we reached the church, I couldn’t find the Tafts’ station wagon in the crammed parking lot. It appeared as though the rest of Pantown had decided to show up, though, along with some outsiders, reporters asking questions. Dad steered the three of us under the tree to wait for him while he talked to one of the journalists he recognized. It was hot. I was miserable. For the first time I questioned—in my head, at least—why it was we couldn’t enter a building without Dad. It was at least ten degrees cooler inside.
I was questioning a lot of things lately.
Claude and his parents were striding across the lawn. I waved frantically. Claude looked away. I could have sworn he saw me.
“Mom, I’m going to say hi to Claude.”
She nodded, her skin translucent in the undulating shade.
I jogged over. “Claude!”
He refused to look. He must have heard me. Both his parents were turning, smiling.
“Claude, can I talk to you?” I asked when I reached their side. “Alone?”
“Go on, Claude,” his dad said. “We’ll meet you inside.”
Claude looked uncomfortable in his button-up shirt and necktie, and it wasn’t just the heat.
“You heard about Brenda?” I asked after his parents stepped away.
He nodded.
“Claude, why won’t you look at me?”
He turned, his eyes fierce, then he dropped them, a flush crawling up his neck. “I had something to tell you at work the other day, but I suppose you don’t want to hear it now.”