The Pages of Her Life Read online

  “They told me you were trying out for the circus.”

  Her mom laughed. The morphine they’d given her was obviously taking care of the pain, at least for now. “You should have seen the flip. I just couldn’t stick the landing.”

  “I see.”

  Allison sat and took her mom’s hand. Warm and soft. Gentle. The way it had been forever.

  “Thanks for coming, Al. You didn’t have to.”

  “Mom? What were you doing up on a ladder?”

  “Working on the gutters.”

  “Why? What would possess you to climb up there?”

  “They need fixing. And Parker’s not around. And who knows if he’ll ever be around again.”

  “So if Parker’s not around, you hire someone to do it.”

  Her mom turned her head and stared at the rail of her bed.

  “Mom?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.” Her mom pulled her hand away. “I can do it myself.”

  “Obviously that’s not the case.”

  “I won’t slip next time.”

  “They told me you won’t be ready to do anything for at least a month and a half.”

  Her mom yanked her arms across her chest. “Then I’ll fix them in six weeks.”

  “Please, Mom. Explain this to me. Why didn’t you hire someone to take care of your gutters?”

  Her mom turned back and opened her eyes fully for the first time since Allison had stepped into the room. “No, I won’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s nothing you need to know about.”

  “Why are you—”

  “It’s strictly off-limits.”

  The look in her mom’s eyes was full of fear. More than Allison had seen in her mom for a long time. Maybe ever. Whatever it was, Allison had the feeling it was about to change her life.

  two

  THREE HOURS LATER, AS ALLISON drove her mom home from the hospital, she tried once more to draw out her mom. No luck.

  After she asked twice, her mom muttered, “You’ll find out soon enough, so let it rest, okay?”

  “Find out what?”

  Her mom slipped back into silence and Allison tried to shift gears.

  “How are you doing with missing Dad?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Don’t?

  “Don’t miss him.”

  The same answer she’d given a few days ago. Strange. Only four months since the funeral, and her mom had gone from talking constantly about his passing to not at all. It didn’t make sense. They’d been happily married since the day they wed, and now it was as if he’d never existed. The last time Allison had stopped by, all but one picture of her dad had vanished from the walls.

  They rounded the corner of the street her mom lived on, the sun now streaming directly through the windshield into Allison’s eyes. She pulled down the visor, shielded her eyes, and slipped on her sunglasses. The maple trees were just starting to bud, but the reminders of a wet, gray Seattle winter hung in the air.

  The house would always be home for Allison. For her mom as well. Mom would live the rest of her days here. So many memories. For all of them. The good, the bad, the horrific, but those walls held her history. Parker’s. And most of all, her mom’s. How many couples could say they’d lived their entire married life in one house?

  Allison did a double-take as the one-story home came into view fifty yards away. Was that a For Sale sign in her mom’s yard? No, couldn’t be. Had to be in one of the neighbor’s. But as she got closer she saw that wasn’t so. She pulled up to the curb and blinked as if that would make the sign vanish, or move to the next-door neighbor’s yard.

  “Mom, what is going on?”

  “I told you you’d find out soon enough. Now you have.”

  Allison sat stunned, grasping for reasons her mom would be selling her home. She closed her eyes, gave a tiny shake of her head, and opened them, half expecting the sign to be gone. It didn’t happen. She stared at the sign for a few more seconds, then turned off her car, got out, and shuffled over to it.

  A bad photo of a middle-aged, plump, smiling Realtor glared out at her. Allison touched the letters on the sign that spelled out For Sale. The sign curled slightly at its edges, which meant it had sat there for a few days at the least. She swallowed and took a slow look at the yard, the house, the roof, the stamped concrete paths leading to the backyard where so many barbecues and games of bocce ball had happened over the years.

  She walked back to the car, pulled her mom’s crutches out of the trunk, then went to the passenger-side door. Allison opened it and said, “What’s going on, Mom?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get inside.”

  She lifted her mom up and out of the car, then handed her the crutches.

  “Can you do this?”

  “Yes,” came her mom’s sullen response.

  It took three minutes for them to navigate the seven steps to her mom’s front porch. Three minutes of silence during which Allison’s mind tried to come up with answers. Finally they stepped inside, and Allison helped her mom to the couch in the living room. Then she sat across from her mom in the rocking chair her dad had loved. Allison leaned forward, elbows on knees.

  “Are you going to tell me now?”

  “Would you like some coffee? Some tea maybe? That’s your favorite, and that always seems to go better when it’s later in the day. Or I could whip up some—”

  “No, Mom. You’re going to rest that ankle.”

  “I’m going to need to learn how to use these crutches, so why don’t—”

  “Stop, Mom. Please.”

  Allison took a slow breath. Maybe tea was a good idea. Give her mom a moment to settle in and figure out how she would tell Allison whatever the horrendous secret was.

  “Why don’t I go make us some tea?”

  Her mom nodded. “I’d like that, thanks.”

  Allison went to the oh-so-familiar kitchen, put a kettle on the stove, and waited for the water to heat. She wandered over to the refrigerator and spotted a photo of a midthirties man and a little girl, both dressed to the nines. Over their head was a sign that said, “First Annual Daddy-Daughter Dance!” Probably the son and granddaughter of a friend of her mom’s.

  A memory rushed into Allison’s mind before she could stop it. She’d been in second grade, more dressed up than she’d ever been to that point in her young life. She was about to go to her first dance. A few minutes before it was time to leave, Allison’s mom stepped into her bedroom room and gave a little laugh.

  “What’s funny, Mommy?”

  “Nothing.” Her mom’s eyes went from Allison’s dress to the bow in her hand and then to the quiver of arrows slung around her neck.

  “It’s just—”

  “Do you like my bow, Mommy?” Allison grinned. “I’m a princess, but I’m also a war-ee-or.”

  “You mean a warrior?”

  Allison nodded.

  “I didn’t know princesses carried bows and arrows.”

  She grabbed her bow tighter. “If they’re a war-ee-or they do.”

  “I see.” Her mom knelt beside her. “But I think you’re far more of a princess than a warrior, so maybe we should leave the bow and arrows at home.”

  “Nope.” Allison closed her eyes and wagged her head back and forth. “I’m half and half.”

  “Okay.” Her mom squeezed her hand gently and said, “But I still think you should leave your bow at home. You don’t want to scare the other princesses at the dance who don’t understand you can be half and half. What do you think?”

  “I guess.”

  Her mom stood and ushered Allison to the door. “We should go downstairs. We don’t want to keep Daddy waiting, do we?”

  “No!”

  As they reached midpoint on the stairs, her dad slid into view and came to a stop in front of the front door. The suit he’d been wearing earlier had been replaced with jeans, a Huskies sweatshirt, and a baseball ha
t. Allison stopped and pulled her hand from her mom’s grip.

  “What are you doing, Daddy? Aren’t you going to wear your suit to the dance?”

  Her dad glanced at her, then fixed his gaze on her mom.

  “Corrine, can I talk to you for a second?”

  Allison’s mom didn’t answer. She turned to Allison and said, “Hang on for a minute. I’m going to talk to your dad. Go up to your room and I’ll be right there, okay?”

  Her mom clomped down the stairs, and she and Dad shuffled into the living room and talked in whispers. But Allison didn’t go to her room. She padded down the rest of the stairs and sat on the bottom step.

  “Did you hear me?” Her dad’s voice wasn’t a whisper anymore.

  “Yes. I heard you. You’re going to break a little girl’s heart so you can go watch Joel play baseball.”

  “So you didn’t hear me. He’s not just playing. He’s pitching. In the final game of the season. They win this, they get into the playoffs. If he’s the winning pitcher, it sets him up for—”

  “He’s ten! This isn’t—”

  “He’ll remember this the rest of his life. It’s a defining moment.”

  Now her mom’s voice grew beyond a whisper. “And you don’t think your daughter will remember what you’re about to do to her the rest of her life?”

  “She’s six, Corrine, so no, I don’t think she’ll remember it. And it’s not like this is going to be the only father-daughter dance they ever put on. Come on.”

  “Don’t do this, Jerry. It’s not a good plan.”

  “I didn’t plan this. I just found out ten minutes ago!” The thud of her dad’s shoes pacing back and forth on the hardwood floors echoed. “I’ll make it up to her. I promise.”

  Her mom stayed silent.

  “Did you hear me? I said I’ll make it up to her.”

  Again her mom didn’t respond, and Allison knew the conversation was seconds from being over. She spun and scampered back up the stairs and into her room, closed her door to a crack, sat on the edge of her bed, and waited for her dad to come upstairs. He pushed through her door a few minutes later, a worried smile on his face.

  “Hey, princess.”

  She stared at him for a few seconds before turning away.

  “I have some bad news, sugar.” He went to one knee. “I am so, so sorry, but I have to change our plans for tonight. I’m not going to be able to take you to the dance even though I really want to.”

  She glanced at him and then stared at her bow propped up in the corner.

  “I promise I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

  She picked at a loose thread on her dress.

  “Okay?”

  She nodded. Her dad stood, kissed her on the top of her head, and left her room.

  Allison sniffed out a sad laugh as she recalled the number of father-daughter dances they’d gone to after that night. It didn’t take long to add them up. Zero is a quick calculation.

  She shoved the memory away and poured the tea. After they sat in silence for a few minutes sipping their drinks, Allison set down her cup and said, “Why are you selling the house?”

  Her mom rubbed her hips with her palms and glanced at everything in the room except Allison.

  “Please, Mom.”

  “Yes, right.” She sighed and pushed the crutches off to the side of the couch. “Now, what would you like to know, dear?”

  Allison wanted to blurt out, Are you even my mom? The tightness in her stomach grew. Something was seriously wrong.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It wasn’t an easy decision, but it’s the right one. I talked to my friend Kathy about it at length. She agrees with me. I’m getting older. Who likes to admit that? But it’s true. And I have to think ahead. Make plans.”

  Her mom stopped as if that was all the explanation Allison needed.

  “What plans?”

  “I suppose I simply realized this is a big house. A lot to take care of. You and Parker don’t drop by that much, and even if it’s all three of us, it’s still a lot of house. I thought it was time to downsize, get something a little smaller, something where I don’t have to worry about the yard . . .”

  Allison stared at her mom, trying to organize the two million thoughts racing through her mind. Getting older? Her mom was only sixty-two. Yes, sometimes, well, more than sometimes, she acted like she was eighty-eight, but still, sell the house? She was still teaching elementary school, had no plans to retire, and had never even hinted about selling the house someday.

  Right after Dad died, someone had asked her, and she’d sworn they’d have to drag her out of the house when it came time. Worry about the yard? Her mom loved the yard. Without her flowers and garden and the hummingbirds she invited into her domain as if they were royalty, she’d be lost. This was insane.

  “Do I need to ask why you’re lying to me? You’ve never been good at it.”

  A sad little laugh sputtered out of her mom’s mouth. “Do you remember the first time you caught me in a lie?”

  “We were out on the back porch and I asked you if Santa Claus was real.”

  “You were only four.”

  “You and Dad stood there with silly looks on your faces. You glanced at each other and you said, ‘Yes, of course Santa Claus is real.’”

  “And you said, ‘I think you’re lying, Mommy.’”

  Allison lowered her voice. Softened it. “I think you’re lying to me now.”

  Her mom took a long time pulling air into her lungs and even longer releasing it. She looked around the room again, slower this time, as if she was reliving every memory created there.

  “Have you ever woken up from a dream and not known for a few seconds whether the dream is reality or your waking life is the reality?”

  Allison nodded.

  “And when you realize your waking life is the true world, you feel incredible relief, because the dream was your life but upside down? You shake the dream from your mind and the world is the way it should be, right-side up, and the smell of coffee freshly brewed floats down the hall and a new day, a good day, has begun?”

  Again, Allison nodded.

  “I’m not in the dream anymore, Ally.” Her mom’s gaze shifted from Allison to the window looking out on the weeping willow in the front yard. “No, the dream is over, I’m awake, but my life is still upside down, and all is not right with the world.”

  “What happened, Mom? Whatever it is, we can work through it. Tell me, please.”

  “I wish that were true.” She gave Allison a sad smile. “This time I don’t think we can work through it.”

  “What is it?”

  Her mom’s gaze stayed fixed on the willow tree as tears formed in her eyes. “It’s your dad, Ally.”

  The grip around Allison’s stomach made it a challenge to breathe.

  “What about Dad?”

  Her mom folded her hands across her lap and looked at Allison, but her focus cut right through her daughter, not seeing anything at all.

  “I’m $550,000 in debt. And they want their money. On a regularly scheduled basis. Money that I don’t have.”

  three

  WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Allison lurched forward in the rocking chair, her hands gripping the arms.

  Her mom waved her hands in the air. “Where do I start? Where would you like me to start, honey? From the beginning? That’s always a good place to start in situations like this, don’t you think?”

  Allison forced herself to be patient. To not blurt out a thousand questions at once. “Yes. Sure. Wherever you want to.”

  Her mom picked at the armrest of the couch and spoke in a singsong voice. “That’s why I have to sell the house. The Realtor says I’ll get $150,000 once commissions and paperwork are paid for, but that still leaves $350,000 to go. That’s a lot of money. A lot if you think about it. Quite a bit, yes, a great amount of money. I gave them what I had in savings, but that wasn’t much.”

  “Why would you only
clear $150,000? With as crazy as the Seattle-area market has been, this house has to be worth almost a million.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Almost right. It’s listed for $985,000. Can you believe that? Seems like a silly amount of money for this house. We paid only $54,000 for it.” She sighed. “But that was a long time ago.”

  “Then you have a tremendous amount of equity in it; you should—”

  “But of course the mortgage company is quite concerned about getting their money. Can’t blame them. I don’t blame them. Why would I? It’s not their fault.”

  “What are you talking about? You and Dad paid off this house years ago. And who do you owe the money to? And what for?”

  “Ah yes. Paid off. That’s what you thought? I can see why you would. Me too.” Her mom stared out the window at the willow tree. “Do you remember we had that little party when your father announced that the house was paid off?”

  “What happened, Mom? Why do you owe the money? Who do you owe it to?”

  “Yes, right. I’m sorry. I keep getting distracted, don’t I?” She looked at the ceiling and a little smile came onto her face. “It was a lovely little celebration, though, don’t you think? Your dad did that slide show where he showed us all his before-and-after pictures of all the projects he did over the years.”

  “What did Dad do?”

  Her mom fixed her gaze on Allison. Up to that point her eyes had been glassy, her mouth slightly open even when she wasn’t speaking. Now her countenance shifted and she became the wife of a police force captain, the woman who was as fierce in conflict as any man. But a second later the look faded and her eyes glazed over again.

  “Mom!”

  “He had a double life.” A pitiful laugh came out of her mom’s mouth. “How did I miss that?”

  A double life? Her dad? Not possible. He loved her mom. Never so much as glanced at other women with a roving eye.

  “He had an affair? I can’t believe—”

  “No, not that.” Her mom began to cry.

  “What then?”

  “Your dad had a vice, Ally. Not alcohol—we all knew about that one. And you know it wasn’t women.”