Cracks in the Sidewalk(83)

In the weeks that followed, Claire allowed grief to consume her. It lived in every thought, in every word, in the river of salty tears flowing from her eyes. It shunned the touch of anyone who reached out and closed its ears to words of sympathy.

Although the rental company came and took back the hospital bed Elizabeth had used, the remainder of the room stayed exactly the same. Claire continued to lie on the narrow day bed night after night, seldom sleeping.

“You can’t go on like this,” her friend, Mildred, said, but Claire turned her face to the wall. Who was Mildred to give such advice? How could she possibly understand, when she had three daughters, all of them alive and well?

When Charlie suggested she return to their bed, she ran into Elizabeth’s room and slammed the door in his face.

“Please,” he begged, but she had already closed her ears to such a suggestion.

Eventually Charlie began staying at the office later and later. He’d stop at the diner for a bite to eat, then go home to a dark, silent house, a house where his wife had locked herself in her dead daughter’s bedroom. Many a night he’d wake to the sound of Claire sobbing, then in the morning he’d see her red-eyed and puffy.

“Perhaps if we took a vacation, got away for a while,” he suggested to no avail. “Or move,” he offered. “We could find a new house, without so many memories.”

But Claire drew back from the thought as if scalded.

~

In October, shortly after the leaves began to fall, the phone rang. When Claire answered the telephone, the caller said, “Good news! I’ve got it!”

“Excuse me?”

“I finally got it, the blond Cabbage Patch doll you wanted.”

“I’m sorry, I think—”

“Is this Elizabeth Caruthers?”

Claire’s breath caught as she suddenly remembered the doll Liz promised to get for Kimberly.

“My daughter Elizabeth passed away,” she said quietly, “but she ordered that doll for her little girl, and I’d very much like to pick it up.”

“I’m so sorry,” the caller stuttered, “if you don’t want—”

“Oh, but I do. Finding that doll was something my daughter had her heart set on. Now it’s the only thing I can still do for her.”

“There’s plenty of things you can do,” the caller said. “I’m a grandma myself, and I know how much kids need their grandma. I’m certain your daughter will find great peace in knowing you’re looking after her little one.”

“Three,” Claire replied. “Elizabeth has three. Two boys and one girl.”

“Oh, well, then, you’ve got your work cut out for you.” She gave the address of her shop and said she looked forward to meeting Claire.

“Me too,” Claire replied. Oddly enough, she meant it.

~

That night Claire didn’t sleep in Elizabeth’s room. She sat in the recliner and thought about the three children who now needed her more than ever. Before daylight crawled into the sky she decided to go to Jeffrey. She would do whatever she had to do—beg, grovel, apologize, anything. And if the only way to break down this wall between them was to give him money, she would force Charlie to give him whatever he wanted, right down to their last cent.

Claire closed her eyes, convinced that her purpose on earth was to care for Elizabeth’s children, which was why she’d been left behind even though she’d wished to go with her daughter.





The Following Day


Claire awoke filled with purpose. First she planned to pick up the Cabbage Patch doll and buy presents for the boys. Then she would drive to Jeffrey’s house. She’d ring the doorbell and wait patiently until he got good and ready to open the door. She would not make a scene of any sort. She’d simply park herself on the stoop and wait. Sooner or later he had to use the door, and if she had to wait until tomorrow then she would wait.

“You look better this morning,” Charlie said.

“I feel better.” She smiled and poured herself a cup of coffee.

~

The drive across town was uneventful, although a garbage truck blocking her way made the trip slower than necessary. Claire parked in front of Todd’s Toys and hurried inside. The Cabbage Patch doll sat on a ledge behind the counter, and a note stuck to the box read, “Hold for Elizabeth Caruthers.” Claire flashed back to the memory of Liz telephoning store after store to find the doll, and for a moment she feared the tears would start again.

“You have got to be Elizabeth’s mother!” Nora Todd came from the back of the store carrying an armful of teddy bears.

Shaken from her reverie, Claire answered, “Yes, I am.”

Nora dropped the teddy bears onto the counter and wrapped her arms around Claire. “I feel for you. I know what it’s like to lose a child.”

“You do?”

Nora nodded. “Walt and I lost our Tommy when he was only twenty-eight.”

“How awful.”

“Yes, indeed. Tommy was our baby and smart as could be.”

“How did he—”

“Car accident. A drunk driver ran a stop light and hit him.”

Claire gasped. “Oh, no.”

“Yes. He died before they got him to the hospital. Tommy left a wife and four little boys, every one of them as good looking and smart as he was.”