Bloodline(68)

“Hello, Dennis. Such a wonderful service.”

He tugs at his collar. “Yes. I’m so glad to see you well. I heard about . . . I’m so glad to see you well.”

“I shouldn’t have let myself get so excited. You understand. The assassination.”

Senator Kennedy succumbed to his wounds twenty-six hours after he’d been shot. Deck keeps me away from the television and the radio, but when he isn’t watching me, I have begun listening to the world again. It has me keening with grief. Boys dying in war. Riots. Children starving. I’ve neglected my responsibility as a reporter and a woman, entering the morbid snow globe that is Lilydale, cutting myself off from the tides of the world, from my duty.

“Yes, terrible news, that.” Dennis is glancing around, desperate for a reason to excuse himself. I don’t have much time.

“Mr. Roth, I’m worried about my health. I’m so sorry, but I think I shouldn’t write articles for the paper until after I have the baby. Maybe not even until he’s school-age and my days free up.”

Dennis is so relieved that he encases my gloved hands in his long insectile fingers. “That’s probably for the best. Don’t you worry. We’ll hold your job for you until you’re ready.”

I squeeze his hands back. “I would like to write one final article,” I say, keeping my smile firm.

His face falls.

“I’ve so admired the gardens belonging to the Mill Street women. It would make me joyous to write an article honoring their talent.” I chuckle heartily, leaning forward as if I’m about to share a delicious secret. “Who knows? With any luck, I might pick up a miracle that would help my own gardening.”

His eyes tear up. I scared him, and then I offered him a gift. “I promise I’ll make room for it.”

“You’re too kind.” I perch on my tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, and he leans forward so I can reach. Afterward, when I’m about to walk away, almost as an afterthought, I say, “Do you suppose I could borrow your camera for a few days? The article would be so much better with pictures of the lovely flowers.”

He’s smiling so wide I fear the top of his head is going to tip off. “Stop by later. I have some work back at the shop and will be in this afternoon.”

I nod and make my way to the church basement. I walk straight to the five core Mothers: Catherine the Migrant Mother, Mildred the Mouse, Birdie Rue, Saint Dorothy, and Bland Barbara. I stand next to them meekly. I can tell they’re mad at me. I have been a lot of trouble. I won’t be anymore. Eventually, when I don’t ask questions, they relax. When Mildred mentions the next crow hunt and I keep a placid smile stapled to my face, Catherine asks if I would like to help cook for it. I say yes. They’re no longer asking if I want to be initiated, but being asked to help in the kitchen is the next best thing. I just need them to let down their guard.

I stay late to clean up. When Deck is waiting impatiently by the door, I tell him I’ll walk home without him. He hesitates. He doesn’t particularly want to stay home with boring old me. Yet he doesn’t want to get in trouble, either. Letting me walk unchaperoned might be a bad decision for him.

I grip his arm softly. “Deck, I don’t want anything to happen to this baby. I’ll walk slow. The fresh air will do me good.”

He relents.

I’m the last person besides the priest to leave. I make my way leisurely, smelling flowers along the way. When I’m halfway home, I pause as if a thought has come to me. I step into an alley, a shortcut to Wally’s that passes alongside Regina’s back entrance. I come out the other side whistling. Inside the grocery store, I buy eggs and milk. Enough food to show the necessity of the trip, but not enough to make anybody worry about me carrying something too heavy.

Slipping the note under Regina’s door was the one risk in my whole plan.

I wrote it in a way that I’m covered, though.

If she tells on me.

She probably will. Everyone is against me.





CHAPTER 53

“Sister, I thought you were avoiding me,” Regina says.

I smile stiffly. “This pregnancy. Makes it impossible to get out of the house some days.”

My note asked her to meet outside the Lilydale Public Library first thing the next morning. While it doesn’t offer much, it carries encyclopedias and a handful of dusty volumes on pregnancy. When we step inside and check out the shelves, I’m relieved to also discover a comprehensive collection of cookbooks.

The librarian watches me from across the room. She can observe which sections I take books from, but I retrieve so many that it’s impossible to make sure what exactly I’m pulling.

I discover validating information in a leather-bound encyclopedia, but it’s the cookbooks I’m really here for. When I find what I’m after, I return all the books to the shelves, smiling at the librarian the whole time. Then I wait for Regina to finish reading the magazines.

She plays an important part in my escape plan, though she doesn’t know it.

We stroll to Tuck’s Cafe at my suggestion.

“How’s work going?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “Same old, same old.”

She seems so kind, so normal. I wish there were any other way.

But I can’t trust anyone, not anyone but myself.