Little Mercies
Jenny heard a tapping noise and first thought it was Dolly’s toenails clacking against the hardwood floors. The noise became more insistent and she realized someone was knocking at the front door. She wiped her wet hands on a dish towel and, feeling very grown up, peeked through the curtains to see who was there. She found Ellen, Leah and Lucas on the front porch. Ellen looked scared, casting furtive looks over her shoulder and Jenny quickly opened the door.
“We had to leave,” Lucas said excitedly. “The TV people came. They were all over! We snuck out the back and ended up going over to Kelly’s house,” he added.
“Jenny, where’s my mom?” Ellen asked, looking around.
“She’s upstairs. Sleeping,” Jenny said. “Do you want me to go get her?”
Leah, near tears, shook her head. “Why are you even still here?” she spat at Jenny, and stomped out of the room and into the kitchen.
Jenny looked down at the floor, her face burning with embarrassment.
Ellen paced around the living room, pausing only to peer through the sheers. “She’s just upset about her sister and the reporters, Jenny. She doesn’t mean it. I think we are going to have to stay here, at least for tonight.”
Jenny had joined Ellen at the window, keeping an eye out for reporters, when the house phone rang. Absentmindedly, Ellen answered. She was silent for a moment and then held the phone out toward Jenny.
“It’s for you,” Ellen said, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. “It’s your father.”
Chapter 27
I decide to give Jenny some privacy to talk to her father, climb the stairs and pause outside my brothers’ old bedroom, the one that my mother redesigned after they had grown up and moved away. It was her respite during my father’s illness, the only place my mother could get any sleep after spending long days tending to my father’s many needs. I push open the door and see that this is the room where Jenny is staying. Small plastic figurines line the dresser and there is a neatly folded pile of clothes belonging to a little girl sitting on a chair. The bed is made but rumpled in places. I walk over to straighten one of the pillows leaning askew at the head of the bed and find deposited beneath it a box of chocolate-covered snack cakes. I shake my head at the strange little girl who my mother has taken into her home and return the box to its hiding spot. On a hunch, I open the bedside table and find it filled with bags of chips and cookies. I get down on my knees, lift the bed skirt, peer beneath the bed and pull out several bars of baking chocolate and a box of cereal. Jenny’s a food hoarder. I’ve seen it before. Children who don’t get enough to eat will gather and hide food, much like a squirrel does when preparing for winter. I replace Jenny’s stash, move to the hallway and vow to have a serious talk with my mother about exactly what’s going on with this little girl.
I tap quietly on my mother’s bedroom door. There is no response and I figure she must be sleeping. I turn to leave, then stop. Never have I remembered needing my mother as much as I do right now. Growing up she was one of those mothers who moved along in the wake of her family, following behind quietly, always there, watchful, but never really a participant. Our dad was the one who got down on the ground to wrestle with us, play touch football in the yard, the one who yelled and delegated, the one who grounded us and took the car keys away. But my mother was the one I went to when I fell down and scraped my knee, failed a test, and when I came home in tears because someone had been inexplicably cruel to me. She didn’t judge, she rarely scolded. She listened, hugged and always left me with a few words that I never realized was advice until later. “I guess that tree wasn’t meant to be climbed. I wonder what Mr. Hansen would say if you asked him to go over the test with you? When someone is cruel, it usually means that something hard and horrible is going on in their own lives.”
I know I should let my mother sleep, but instead, I quietly tiptoe into the darkened room. She is lying on her side beneath the covers, her face slack in sleep, one hand curled beneath her chin in the same way that Lucas does when he sleeps. She looks so old and I try not to think about how many days I might have left with her.
“It’s okay, I’m awake,” my mother says blearily, rising to one elbow. “Is everything okay?”
I slip off my shoes and ease myself next to her on the bed and lie down. I close my eyes, willing my brain to stop whirring, but it won’t. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I say. “I’m sorry you have to be part of this whole mess.”
“Life can be a mess,” she says simply.
“There are reporters outside my house. They all of a sudden showed up in droves. They must have heard that I turned myself in this morning. They were talking to the neighbors.” My voice rises with the improbability of it all.
“Did they see you?” my mother asks, her voice still gravelly with sleep.
“I don’t think so. We went out the back.” I put my face in my hands. It is all feeling like way too much. Avery, the protection order, being arrested and now the press. “I have never been so humiliated in my life. Jail was horrible. I was strip-searched. Can you believe it? Exactly what do they think I was going to smuggle into jail with me?” My mother has no answer for this. “What am I going to do? What if I end up having to go to jail?” I cover my face with a pillow in shame.
I expect my mother to just pat my hand and tell me that things have a way of working out and I’ll just have to trust that everything is going to be okay. But she doesn’t. She sits up, plumps her pillow and leans back against the headboard. “You’re already doing it. You’ve got the best lawyer and you’re fighting. You keep fighting so you can be with Avery.”
We sit in silence for a few moments and I wonder if she has fallen asleep again, but then she speaks. “You’ll stay with us for as long as you need to. And if the reporters find us here, we’ll go to a hotel.”
I notice that my mother used the collective us in her invitation. Us being she and Jenny, I assume. “Jenny’s on the phone with her father. What exactly is going on here? I thought that Ruth would have this taken care of by now.”
“I haven’t told you the full story about Jenny,” she says contritely, as if she’s a child caught in a lie.
“She’s a runaway, isn’t she?” I say. “I knew it.”
“No.” My mother shakes her head back and forth, causing the headboard to rattle. “It’s much more complicated than that.” She goes on to describe once again how she met Jenny and, in my mind, the dubious story of how she ended up in Cedar City.
“You’ve told me this already. Jenny gets separated from her father, takes a bus across Nebraska and Iowa by herself, gets off in Cedar City to reunite with a grandmother she never met, and you meet her at the Happy Pancake.” We sit in silence for a moment. “I’m still not sure how she ended up in your extra bedroom.” I’m trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice, but it’s there and my mother hears it, too.
“I know I should have called someone right away, but I really thought I would be able to find her grandmother.” I can’t help smiling. My mother has always taken in strays. Stray cats and dogs that would stay with us until my father had had enough and insisted she find homes for them. Even the neighbors’ kids would find reasons to come over to our house to hang out, and while I’d like to think it was due to my winning personality, I know my mother’s bottomless cookie jar and kindness played a big part. “I tried to handle it without worrying you,” she says. “Ruth called and is planning on taking Jenny back to Benton next Monday. She’ll be in foster care until they work things out with her father, but at least she’ll be near him.”
“That’s good news. I would think Jenny would be happy to be back in the same town with her dad,” I say, glad that at least one of our lives is starting to get settled.
“For some reason Jenny is deathly afraid of going into a foster care,” my mother explains. “I’m afraid to tell her.”
??
?I think it’s for the best. Ruth will be able to find Jenny a good foster home, at least until they figure out where her family is.”
“Jenny trusts me, though,” Maudene says sadly.
“I don’t think we have much of a choice.” I shake my head. “What a mess.”
“There’s more,” my mother says guiltily, and I groan. “When I took Jenny to the address we had for her grandmother, I left her in the car while I went to the door. A woman answered, and I asked if a Margie Flanagan lived there. She said no, Margie had passed about a year ago.”
“Okay, Jenny’s grandmother died and her father is in jail. So we have to find out if there are any other relatives we can find. I’m sure Ruth can do that for us.”
“No, no,” my mother says, her voice tinged with impatience. “I’m not finished. The woman who answered the door was the spitting image of Jenny. She told me that Margie Flanagan was her mother. That woman is Jenny’s mother, I know it. And Ellen, I saw pictures of what that woman did to Jenny.” My mother’s voice broke slightly and she continued with a steely resolve that I don’t think I’ve heard from her. “Jenny cannot know that her mother is living in this town and that woman cannot know that Jenny is here.”
Chapter 28
When Jenny heard her father’s voice, she couldn’t help but start crying. “How are you, Jenny Penny?” he asked.
“Okay,” Jenny said through her tears. “When are you coming to get me?”
“I can’t be the one to come and get you, but the good news is you’re coming back to Benton in a few days. Isn’t that good news, Jenny?”
“I’m coming home?” Jenny sniffled. “But where are we going to live?”
Her father was silent for a moment. “The social worker told you it would be a while until we could be together, didn’t she?” Jenny nodded, but couldn’t speak even though she knew her father couldn’t see her.
“You’ll stay with a nice family for a little while, but we’ll be able to talk on the phone.”
Jenny froze. “What nice family?” she asked.
“It’s just for a little while, Jenny. I promise,” her father said earnestly.
“A foster family?” Jenny asked fearfully.
Her father’s voice broke. “I’m trying to get better, Jenny, but it’s hard.”
“A foster family?” Jenny repeated.
Jenny had never heard her father crying before and it caused her to cry even harder. “I love you, Jenny,” her father whispered.
Jenny couldn’t remember her father ever saying that to her before. “Love you, too,” Jenny echoed.
When they hung up, Jenny sat on the floor, sobbing. She was going to be sent to a foster home.
The timer on the oven began beeping, signaling that the rhubarb crisp they’d made was finished. Wearily, Jenny climbed the stairs and stood outside Maudene’s room. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop—her father’s friend-girls always told her it’s rude to listen to other people’s conversations. But she couldn’t help but listen to what Maudene and Ellen were saying. The door was opened just a crack and she heard Ellen say her name and again there was talk of a social worker and foster care. Traitors! Jenny thought. And then Maudene talked about her grandmother being dead. And then she said that it was Jenny’s mother who’d answered the door. Could it be true? Was her mother living in this town, just a few miles from where Jenny was standing right here and now? Was she still with Jimmy? And why hadn’t she ever tried to call Jenny? So many questions spun through Jenny’s head.
She crept back to the top of the stairs, being careful to make sure the floor didn’t creak beneath her feet. “Maudene,” she hollered. “Maudene, the oven is beeping! The rhubarb crisp is done!”
“Oh, my!” Maudene answered, tripping into the hallway. Maudene’s feet were bare, her white hair was tousled from sleep and there was a crease in the delicate skin on one side of her face.
“I didn’t want it to burn,” Jenny explained.
“Let’s go take a look,” Maudene said airily. “I can smell it from up here.”
Jenny followed Maudene down the stairs and with each step a plan began to form in her mind. She needed to make sure that they didn’t send her away just yet and she needed to go and see for herself if it was really her mother in the house on Hickory Street. She would have to work fast. All it took was one phone call and within minutes she would be placed in the backseat of a social worker’s car and on her way to some foster home. “I’ll be right there!” Jenny called down the steps after Maudene, and turned around, almost bumping into Ellen.
“You okay, Jenny?” Ellen asked scrutinizing Jenny’s face with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just have to grab something from my room.” Jenny stepped past Ellen, slipped into the bedroom, flipped on the light and scanned the room. She couldn’t quite pinpoint how she knew, but someone had been in here. She thought of her backpack, down in the kitchen, and she chided herself for letting it out of her sight. Her father’s cell phone was still plugged into its charger and she grabbed it. Six missed calls, three voice mails and two texts, all from Connie. Jenny read the texts first: Call me im worried about u. And then, i talked to ur dad hes ok call me. Next Jenny listened to the voice mails, hoping to hear more news about her father.
“Jenny,” came Connie’s fretful voice. “Please, please call me. I’m so worried about you. I just want to know that you’re okay. Please call me.” The second message was much the same, but the third made Jenny sit up. “Jenny, it’s Connie. I talked to your dad. He is in jail, but he’s okay. He said he’s been trying to tell anyone that will listen that you are somewhere out there all by yourself. You’ve got to call me, Jenny,” Connie pleaded. “I’ll come and get you, just tell me where you are.”
Jenny hated that she had caused Connie to worry so much. She should just call her, tell her she’s okay and ask her to come and get her. But she wanted to see her mom, just to see if it was really her. Maybe Jimmy would be long gone and her mother would explain that she didn’t really mean to leave Jenny behind. That she didn’t really choose Jimmy over Jenny. Maybe he had kidnapped her mother and forced her to run away. Jenny’s heart pounded with the possibilities. She just needed a little more time to figure out exactly what to do.
She pressed Send to connect to Connie and she answered on the first ring. “Jenny! My God, are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Listen, don’t do that to me again. Please don’t ignore my calls. I’ve been so worried about you!”
“I’m sorry,” Jenny said apologetically. She did feel bad that she made Connie worry so much. “I talked to my dad, I really miss him.”
Connie sighed. “I’m glad you two talked. He really got himself into a mess this time, didn’t he? He’s not really hurt, but it might take a little time to get all the—” she paused trying to find the right words “—legal stuff figured out,” she concluded.
“How long do you think it will take?” Jenny asked, hoping that Connie could answer the question her father did not.
“I don’t know for sure, but I imagine it could take some time.”
Oh,” Jenny said in a small voice. “Then I guess we’re not moving to Dubuque?”
“I don’t think so. At least not for a while anyway,” Connie answered.
“So if I go back to Benton, I really won’t be able to stay with my dad?” Jenny asked, already knowing the answer.
“I don’t know exactly how all this works, but I don’t think so,” Connie said with difficulty. “But we’ll work something out. It will be okay. I’ll make sure to check on you. When you get settled into your foster home you can call me anytime you want. I’ll come visit to make sure you’re doing okay.” Jenny thought she heard Connie sniffle on the other end of the phone.
“Couldn’t I just stay with you?” Jenny a
sked before she could stop herself. The short silence that followed was answer enough.
“It’s complicated, Jenny,” Connie finally said. “Do you want me to come to pick you up and bring you back to Benton? I will.”
Jenny closed her eyes and waited for the ache in her chest to pass. “No, that’s okay,” she said finally, thinking of her mother in the white house and green shutters. “I’ve got to go.” Before Connie could speak again, Jenny hung up and headed down the steps to help with dinner.
Very quickly, Jenny realized that someone else was in the house. An unfamiliar female voice chattered on and on from the direction of the kitchen and Jenny stood outside the door trying to listen.
“I was worried when I went to your home and saw all the press outside. Smart thinking, coming over to your mom’s house.”
Jenny exhaled with relief. Whoever it was, she wasn’t there about Jenny. She slipped quietly into the kitchen.
Sitting at the kitchen table was Maudene, Ellen and the stranger. She was young and pretty with long shiny yellow hair pulled back in a headband. She wore a short-sleeved yellow t-shirt, a khaki skirt and brown sandals. “Now, Ellen,” the woman said. “I know you know how all this works.”
“I do,” Ellen said tightly.
“And I imagine it’s very uncomfortable for you, but I promise I will make my visits as unobtrusive and painless as possible.” The woman took a sip from the glass of iced tea sitting in front of her. “I’ll interview Lucas and—” she peered at the notebook in her hand “—Leah. Talk with you, of course, and also visit with your husband. And he is where?” She looked around the kitchen as if the husband would miraculously appear.
“He’s at the hospital with Avery,” Ellen supplied patiently.