Chapter 15

CAROLINE

If not for Chuck, Caroline felt certain she would’ve slept until the late afternoon, or maybe even into the next day. She was that tired—deep down, bone-weary tired. As she pulled herself out of Janie’s comfortable guest-room bed, she knew some of her exhaustion was just plain emotional. Even so, all she wanted to do was sleep. But Chuck needed to go out, and it was her job to take him.

“Hang on, old boy,” she whispered to him. “Let me get dressed.” She pulled on some sweats and shoved her feet into her slip-on tennis shoes, then grabbed his leash. Not that he really needed a leash, but as a responsible pet owner, she knew she needed two things when she walked him—the leash and a couple of plastic bags stuffed in her pocket just in case.

It was just a little past seven when she slipped out the front door. The air was damp with fog, and the neighborhood was quiet as she walked toward the nearby park where she would let Chuck off his leash to run and do his business, which she would pick up and deposit in the big metal trash can by the entrance. She remembered the old days when dogs were allowed to relieve themselves where they liked. She also remembered the time she’d been wearing a brand-new pair of Keds, purchased from babysitting money she’d earned watching the bratty Snyder twins next door for twenty-five cents an hour while their mom “put her feet up.” It had taken weeks to save up that money. Then, as she’d been running through this very park on her way to Abby’s house, she’d stepped right into a big smelly pile of dog poop. Those Keds were never the same after that.

After Chuck was satisfied with a little run and potty break, she considered returning to Janie’s house, slipping back into bed, and going to sleep again. The problem was that she was wide awake now, and so she walked on over to her mom’s house—what had been her mom’s house. Despite the fire the house looked fairly unaffected on the outside. It was as dismal and neglected as always, even more so in the gloomy fog. Of course, the charred roof and broken bedroom window, which the firemen had covered with plastic and tape, didn’t help. Really, the best thing for this house might be to knock it down.

Caroline went up to the front door to see if the key she kept hidden (for those times when her mom occasionally locked her out) was still there. She reached up to the door frame and felt around. Sure enough, it was there. Instead of going in, she went around back and let Chuck into the backyard. She had to smile to see the backyard. The work her friends had invested in that small space was still evident. It would be what she would miss most about this place. She filled Chuck’s stainless-steel bowl with water, then told him to be good.

She returned to the front of the house and let herself in. The place seemed extremely quiet, almost as if it, too, knew that her mom had died. And it stank. The acrid smell of smoke was everywhere. Holding her breath, she went to every room except for her mom’s bedroom and opened the windows wide. Then, finding the master key that she kept hidden in a teacup in a high kitchen cupboard, she unlocked all the double-dead-bolt doors and opened them. Her bedroom looked slightly ransacked, but Caroline knew that was because Janie had come by and removed a lot of Caroline’s clothes and personal items. Caroline couldn’t blame Janie for doing this task quickly. Even with the windows open, the smell in this house was really sickening.

Caroline got down on her knees and pulled a metal box out from under her bed. It was an old fireproof file box that her dad had purchased when Caroline was a girl. Though Caroline hadn’t gone through everything it contained, she had stored a lot of her mom’s important papers in it, including social security records, insurance policies, and even the key to her safe-deposit box. Now she took it out into the backyard and sat down to look through it.

To her relief she found a homeowner’s insurance policy. As Caroline examined it, she remembered that, several years ago, she’d helped her mom arrange for the bill to be paid biannually directly from her bank account. It wouldn’t be hard to check the bank records to ascertain whether the insurance policy was still in effect. That was a comfort.

She flipped through the other papers but wasn’t surprised that her mom’s life-insurance policy wasn’t there. Caroline vaguely remembered a conversation about this with her mom. It took place about five years ago, back when Caroline thought that her mom’s memory problems had more to do with aging than Alzheimer’s. Just the same, Caroline had been helping to put her mom’s finances in order, setting up direct deposit payments and such in the hopes it would simplify her mother’s life.

“Your brother has taken all he’s going to get from me,” her mom had told her.

Caroline had been relieved to hear this. She was well aware that her older brother, Michael, had been using their parents for most of his adult life. An unemployed alcoholic with an anger problem, Michael had the people skills of a steamroller on steroids. In fact Michael was one reason that Caroline had always been reluctant to come home for visits during those years. She resented the way he’d taken it upon himself to “tend” to his parents’ affairs. When Caroline finally did get involved after their dad’s death, she realized that Michael hadn’t been just helping with his parents’ finances, he’d been helping himself as well.

“I deserve to be paid for my services,” he had informed Caroline.

“You’re their son,” she had pointed out.

They’d gotten into a heated argument, which led Caroline to expose her brother’s sticky fingers to their mom. At first her mom didn’t believe it, but when the bank manager agreed to meet with her, and when bank records were set out in front of her with questionable withdrawals highlighted in yellow, her mom finally accepted the truth.

After that Michael basically disappeared, although Caroline suspected he hit their mom up for “loans” and other financial handouts over the next few years. Not that her mom had much. Thanks to Michael, their father’s insurance money dwindled much faster than it should’ve. The life-insurance policies had been a benefit of her dad’s job, but they weren’t really worth that much, and Caroline suspected her dad had more than paid for their value over the years. She also suspected he’d hoped to benefit from his wife’s policy himself—after all, she’d always suffered poor health. It stood to reason that he would outlive her. Or, for all Caroline knew, her dad might’ve rationalized that his own policy, in the event of his death, might somehow compensate for all the sadness and abuse his wife had suffered during his lifetime. Caroline just shook her head as she closed the box. There was so much she would never understand.

All she knew for sure was that her family’s history seemed to repeat itself. Like father like son, as soon as their dad was in his grave, Michael had picked up where his dad laid off, taking advantage of their mother. Despite Caroline’s personal feelings toward her brother, she realized that it was her responsibility to notify Michael of their mother’s death. She was not eager to do this and even felt a tinge of guilt for not having done it sooner. But really, how could it have helped if her bullheaded big brother stepped into the picture? She could just imagine him strong-arming the police, or unplugging their mother’s life support, or picking fights with Caroline. No, keeping Michael at arm’s length had been about survival and sanity, and she was not going to feel guilty about it now.

To the best of her knowledge, she had only one phone number with his name attached to it, and she didn’t know if that was even current. She really hoped that it wasn’t. That wasn’t very sisterly of her, and it was possible that Michael had changed over the years. Sometimes people went to rehab or anger management, and sometimes they turned over a new leaf. For her brother’s sake she wished it was so. But history and experience warned her not to get her hopes up.

Leaving the house windows open, Caroline locked the doors, gathered up the fireproof box as well as her dog, then headed back toward Janie’s. As she walked she felt an odd sense of disconnectedness, almost as if she weren’t really here, as if she were just floating through. As much as Caroline had complained about the burden of caring for her mom, that purpose had shaped her days. Now, with that need stripped away, Caroline felt adrift.

She remembered the time as a child when she’d gotten a big pink helium balloon at a grand opening of a new supermarket. Her mom tied the end of the string to Caroline’s wrist, but Caroline had fiddled with the knot and the loop and suddenly it came untied. Caroline had stood in front of her house, crying hopelessly as she watched the pink balloon getting smaller and smaller in the sky until it was the size of a pinhead. That’s how she felt right now. Maybe she needed therapy.

“There you are,” Janie said as Caroline and Chuck came into the house. “I was getting worried.”

“Sorry.” Caroline held up the fireproof box. “We went for a walk and then I stopped by Mom’s to get this.”

“How’s the smell over there?”

Caroline wrinkled up her nose. “Still nasty. But the good news is that I’m pretty sure her homeowner’s insurance was paid up. I’ll get to work on it today.” Caroline took Chuck out to the backyard, and when she returned, Janie was already pouring her a cup of coffee. “Thanks.” She sniffed the fresh brew and sighed. “You’ve been a great host, Janie. But today I’ll start doing whatever I can to get my mom’s house habitable again so I can get out of your hair.”

Janie looked disappointed. “So you’ve changed your mind about staying at Abby’s B and B?”

Caroline shrugged. “I don’t want to put her out either. I think I should just try to get back on my own two feet. My room has the least amount of smoke damage and—”

“You’ll need to get contractor in there first, Caroline. Someone has to make sure it’s safe. There could be structural damage. And what about the electrical? None of the lights worked when I was in the house.”

“I think they shut off the electricity.”

“Yes.” Janie nodded. “Probably because it’s damaged.”

Caroline sighed. “Yeah. I guess it might take longer than I imagined. I suppose I should take Abby up on her offer.”

“Speaking of Abby, she just called to see if we were wanted to meet her and Marley in town for brunch.”

Caroline brightened a bit. “Hey, I could actually do that, couldn’t I?”

Janie chuckled. “You could, girlfriend. You are free as a bird now.”

“It’s just so weird. I feel more like a bird who’s been in a cage so long that someone has opened the door and I don’t know what to do.”

“Here’s to stretching your wings!” Janie held up her coffee cup like a toast.

“My wings.” Caroline clinked her cup against Janie’s. “What a thought.”

“I’ll call Abby and let her know we’re on.” Janie pointed to Caroline. “Do you want to change or anything?”

Caroline looked down at her old sweats and nodded. “Yes. I could use a shower, too.”

“How about if I tell her ten thirty?”

Caroline looked at the clock and sighed to see that it was only a little past nine. “That sounds luxuriously good. I’ve gotten so used to five-minute showers and dressing in even less time. This is a whole new world.”

“Take your time. Enjoy!”

Caroline did take her time, and by ten fifteen she was starting to feel almost normal, or what she imagined normal must feel like. It was good to sit with her friends without looking at her watch, feeling rushed, or worrying that her mom might need her. And yet she was sad, too. In a way it had felt good to be needed.

“You okay?” Abby asked Caroline as they were finishing up.

Caroline swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Yeah, I just feel a little blue.”

“That’s understandable,” Marley told her. “I think that no matter how old you are, it’s hard to lose your mother.”

Caroline set her napkin by her plate. “The weird thing is I feel like I lost a little piece of myself, too.”

Marley nodded. “I felt kind of like that when my mom died too. Like a part of me was still connected to her, a part of me that I could never get back.”

“Maybe we should look at it differently,” Janie began. “Maybe our mothers leave a part of themselves here with us. Don’t you think that parts of our mothers are still inside us? How could they not be?”

Abby shrugged. “Well, since my mom’s still around, I’m not really sure what you’re talking about.”

“Plus you have daughters and a granddaughter,” Marley pointed out. “I think that might change things. That link among women in your family is strong, something for you to hold on to. I only have a son, so sometimes I feel disconnected.”

“That’s it,” Caroline said with enthusiasm. “That’s how I felt this morning. Disconnected.”

Abby grabbed one of Caroline’s hands, Janie grabbed the other, and Marley closed the circle by clasping hands with Abby and Janie. “See,” Abby told Caroline. “You’re not really disconnected.” She turned to Marley. “And neither are you. We are all connected to each other. We are sisters.”

“That’s right,” Janie agreed.

“The sisterhood of the Lindas,” Marley proclaimed, and they all laughed.

“Now I’m inviting the sisterhood of the Lindas to stop by my B and B on our way home,” Abby said. “I have something I’d like your opinions on.”

Before long Abby and Janie were traipsing up the stairs in Abby’s old house. “Back here,” Abby called down the hallway.

“I think she’s in her old bedroom,” Janie said.

Caroline chuckled. “I just had a flashback to Abby’s old bedroom. Remember how we used to tease her for having so many ruffles and frills—all that Pepto-Bismol pink and that princess canopy bed?”

“And the pink princess phone!” Janie chortled. “I do remember. We gave her such a bad time. But the truth is I think I was actually jealous.”

“Me, too,” Caroline admitted.

“Remember when she got rid of the ruffles and everything,” Janie said quietly as they came to the closed door, “and she put up posters and love beads?”

Caroline nodded. “I actually missed the pink princess room.”

“Then there was the color Jessie painted the room—she took pink to a whole new level. I think Abby called it headache pink.” Janie knocked on the door now. “Anyone home?”

“Come on in.” Abby opened the door to a room that looked nothing like her old bedroom.

“This is nice,” Caroline said as she went into the room. “I love this shade of yellow, Abby. Very warm and buttery.” She admired the neat furnishings and comfy-looking bedding. “Really, it’s lovely. What do you need our opinions on? Is Donna going to stay here?”

“Actually I wondered if you’d want to stay here,” Abby said in a cautious tone, like she was worried that Caroline might not appreciate the room.

“Seriously?” Caroline frowned. “It’s not for Donna?”

Abby just shook her head. “I fixed it up for you, Caroline. Actually Janie helped. She’s a great painter. Anyway, you can move in whenever you like. If you want to, that is.”

Caroline grinned. “I’d love to have this room.” She turned to Janie. “I’m sure you won’t miss Chuck and me at your house.”

“You guys have been wonderful guests, but I probably won’t miss Chuck drinking out of my toilet.” Janie smirked.

“Sorry about that.” Caroline made a sheepish smile. “That’s a little habit he learned from his previous home.”

“Speaking of bathrooms,” Abby injected, “I haven’t had a chance to do much with the bath up here, but it’s in pretty good shape anyway.”

“Hey, you’ll hear no complaints from me,” Caroline assured her. “After living in my mom’s house, everything else is an improvement.” She sighed to think of her mom. “That reminds me, I’ve got some funeral arrangements and things to do today. So I’d better get going.” Abby told her to move in whenever she liked, and Caroline hugged her three friends and went on her way.

The Lindas really did lift her spirits, but when she got back to her mom’s house, it was hard not to feel that sadness returning. The place was so depressing, and the open windows hadn’t done much to improve the stale acrid smell of smoke. Every place she looked seemed hopelessly dismal and sad. As horrible as the truth sounded, it might’ve been better if this house had burned to the ground.

Caroline didn’t have time for a pity party. She searched out her mom’s worn address book, where she thought she’d seen Michael’s old phone number. She found it in a kitchen drawer.

Clutching the book, she walked back to her mom’s bedroom. Caroline had no idea what to expect and wasn’t even sure if the space was safe, but she knew her mom had an old Bible from her girlhood days. Caroline had noticed it tucked into the top drawer of her bedside table, almost like her mom kept it there as a good-luck charm. Perhaps she had actually read it at times. For a spell Caroline’s mom had returned to church, but then the Alzheimer’s had set in and her routines were lost.

Anyway, if the Bible was still in one piece, Caroline planned to take it with her. She wasn’t even sure what she would to do with it. Bury it with her mother? Save it as a keepsake? Caroline took in a big breath, then she pulled up the neck of her turtleneck to cover her mouth and nose. Bracing herself, she opened the door to the room.

Blackened and broken and still soggy in places, the bedroom looked like a set from a horror movie. The only thing missing was the dead body. She hurried past the partially burnt bed, alongside the melted carpet, and, trying not to rub against the smoke-darkened walls, she jerked open the drawer, extracted the black Bible, and ran from the room, gasping. She hoped it wasn’t too dangerous to breathe that foul air.

With the Bible and address book in hand, Caroline couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. If she had her way, she would never go back inside there again. It was too horrible. Too hopeless. Except for the backyard, she would be happy if the house was condemned and knocked down. Probably everyone in the neighborhood would be too.

At Janie’s house she went straight to work calling the insurance company for the house, as well as the life-insurance company. She called the funeral home to make an appointment to discuss final arrangements, and finally she opened her mom’s old address book and called the last phone number listed for her brother. She waited as the phone rang, hoping she was about to be informed she had the wrong number. To her shock her brother’s voice answered on the other end.

“Michael,” she said in surprise. “This is Caroline.”

“Caroline who?”

“Your sister,” she said in a flat tone.

“Oh.”

Without going into all the details, she explained about their mom’s death, then waited for him to express his sadness, which actually sounded fairly sincere. She told him she was making arrangements for the funeral. “It’s the same mortuary that did Dad’s service,” she told him. “They got one of those packages back in the eighties. Mostly I just need to set the date and make a few decisions. I thought I’d see if you had any preferences. For the date I mean.” She had no intention of asking him to be involved in any other decision.

“I could be there by tomorrow if necessary,” he told her.

“Oh. Well, okay. How about if I find out what dates work for the funeral home and get back to you?” She gave him her cell phone number and hung up. She could hardly believe she’d just been talking to her brother. The reconnection was not only surreal but slightly creepy. It wasn’t that she hated Michael, but almost all her memories of him were bitter. For the most part she tried not to think about him at all. Years of therapy had helped her to get beyond the pain he’d inflicted on the family, but now it was like he was standing right in front of her. In fact that might be happening for real very soon. Caroline wasn’t sure she was ready.