Rapid Falls(18)

It must have been odd for Anna to return to the regular world only to find her mother was married to someone she had never met. A woman, no less. It was strange enough for me, and I was the one who introduced them at a fundraising party for Larry when he began his election bid. Ingrid was a well-respected activist for the homeless. I didn’t know her well, but my mom hadn’t known anyone else at the party, and I was busy with the endless tasks given to the youngest worker on a campaign team. I knew Ingrid would talk my mother’s ear off, but it had taken me by surprise when the two of them hit it off, especially when it turned into something deeper. At first Rick and I had assumed it was a phase, something my mom needed to get out of her system after having been married to a difficult man for so many years. But after a decade and a half, the love between my mother and Ingrid was more secure than anything I had seen between her and my father growing up. Ingrid’s charity is now one of the leading political causes of the municipal government in Fraser City, and she still works closely with Larry. She spends her days chasing grants and funding to create social enterprises that provide jobs for at-risk youth, women, and men, mostly community gardens with on-site cafés.

I feel lucky that Maggie has one active grandparent in her life. My dad rarely sees her. He almost never leaves Rapid Falls, even though three hours isn’t far. Rick’s parents see Maggie on her birthday and holidays, but their lives are busy with charities and travel. They don’t have much time for a toddler.

“Anna called her last night,” Rick continues. “She told Suzanne that she needed to talk to someone.”

“Was she drunk?” I feel my stomach cramp again.

Rick nods. “Suzanne said she was out of control. Anna kept talking about how no one could ever understand what she’s going through, that there were things that no one knew.”

I finish my wine in one swallow. The cold liquid stings the cut in my gums and I wince. “What kind of things?”

“I don’t know. She’s losing it. It’s happening again, Cara. Suzanne sees it too . . .” Rick trails off and looks out the window. The sun has set, and the window’s surface has become a blackened mirror. Rick’s face is distorted and pale in the reflection. He turns back to me. “I can’t do this again, Cara. I can’t let this happen again.”

I nod.

“She wanted to talk about therapy, Cara. Suzanne is willing to put some money toward a skilled psychiatrist for her,” Rick continues. “She wants us to pay for it together. She thinks there’s something more than the accident at the root of this behavior.”

I try to cool the fire of my irritation with a deep breath. My mom refuses to see Anna unless she is sober, which means they rarely spend time together. I’m surprised she even picked up the phone when Anna called. Usually she sends the call to voice mail.

“Do you agree?”

“In principle, yes.”

I shake my head. Rick has brought this up before, but I talked him out of it. Therapy seems like a bad idea for someone like Anna. The last thing she needs is to keep dwelling on the past. I shake my head, annoyed at my mom for bringing this to Rick and not me.

“Anna won’t do it.”

Rick nods vigorously. “That’s exactly what I said to Suzanne. It’s a good idea, but it’s not going to work until Anna is ready. Your mom’s worried that it won’t be fast enough.”

I’m grateful he agrees with me. “I know.”

“So should I tell Suzanne that we can’t do it?”

“Let me do it. I’ll call her.” I need to figure out how to approach this carefully. “Thanks for this, Rick. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Hopefully Anna figures things out. She’s lucky to have you.” A yawn distorts his last word and he stands up. “It’s early, but I’m exhausted. You coming?”

I nod and follow him up the stairs, wishing for one more glass of wine.





CHAPTER EIGHT

June 1997

I couldn’t put off the interview with Sergeant Murphy any longer. My bruises were fading to yellow around the edges, and after a visit to the doctor that gave me an all clear to resume light activities, I had no more excuses. Rapid Falls’ limited law enforcement consisted of one sergeant furnished by the county sheriff, and in general, people liked it that way. We all knew each other’s secrets, or thought we did, so there were times when things were overlooked to keep the town functioning. Nobody wanted to be arrested if their wife showed up for church with a black eye. Living in a small town meant learning to ignore the truths right in front of your face.

I had known Sergeant Murphy since Anna and I chased bats in exchange for a few dollars and a scoop of ice cream at the end of the local league baseball games. My dad played too and told us that we needed to respect the sergeant even when he got wobbly after a few too many beers in the dugout. We didn’t think of him as police: more like a friend who wore a uniform to work. He knew how Rapid Falls operated. After the accident, I was counting on it.

The police station was an inexplicable shade of pink, painted by a team of day laborers. The original hue had been somewhere between Pepto-Bismol and Barbie’s dream car, but weather had faded it to the color of a half-healed scab. The station sat kitty-corner to the elementary school. As a kid, that used to make me feel safe. But when I went for my interview after the accident, I felt nothing but dread. I pushed open the double glass doors and entered a small waiting area where the cinderblock walls made the space seem like a cell. To the left of the entrance was a waist-high counter manned by Sheila Black, a heavy-chested woman and my classmate Debra’s mom. I’d forgotten that she worked here.