When Did We Lose Harriet? Page 7

  “Here we are.” Bless her heart, she came back with not only Co-colas, but homemade chocolate chip cookies as well. You have to admire a woman who stocks pretty paper napkins that go with her sunroom cushions.

  I took the love seat and she sat down on the chaise like she had nothing better to do than entertain a stranger. The blue flowers on her cushions exactly matched her eyes.

  “You’ve got a lovely home,” I told her truthfully, grabbing a couple of cookies and trying not to wolf them down, “and your yard is simply beautiful.”

  Dee looked around contentedly. “Aren’t you sweet? Actually, William does the yard and houseplants. He and his mama both love to play in the dirt, but I’d rather fix up a house. I wanted to be a decorator when I went to college, but then I met William. When you’re nineteen, getting married seems more important than finishing college, doesn’t it?”

  It was a good thing she didn’t expect an answer. As my sons could tell you, I can go on about that particular subject for quite some time. And when Dee added, “—and as you know, a woman’s house is her life,” I could just see Joe Riddley’s face.

  “MacLaren uses the glacial method of cleaning,” he always claims. “She lets piles creep from the corners to the middle of the floor, then calls out the troops to shovel them back a little.” Several years ago for Christmas he built me a set of screens, explaining proudly, “They are for parties. Just set them up around your various projects, and how big a party we can have will depend on how much space is left.”

  I was reaching for a third cookie and about to ask about Harriet again when a woman called from the kitchen. “Yoohoo?” I’d vaguely heard a car in the drive and a key in the kitchen lock. She came closer, still calling. “Hey there! Anybody home?”

  Where had I heard that voice? For a minute I thought it was the woman who’d called about the teen center the night before, but as soon as she came in, I recognized the woman who’d visited Jake earlier. She still wore that gorgeous sweater.

  Dee looked about as happy as a wet cat, but her voice was sweet. “Hey, Nora! I didn’t know you were coming over. This is, ummm—”

  “MacLaren Yarbrough.” I put out my hand. Since the visitor didn’t recognize me, I decided not to complicate things by dragging Jake in.

  The woman dropped a shopping bag and a couple of catalogues onto the glass-topped table and stuck out a skinny freckled arm weighed down by three heavy gold bracelets. “I’m Nora Sykes, Dee’s mother-in-law. It’s good to meet you.” She then proceeded to completely ignore me, perching on one of the straight chairs by the table and talking nonstop to Dee. “When William called this morning, he asked for some cuttings. I’ve left them out by the garage. And here are some catalogues he wanted from that nursery up in North Carolina that sells all those unusual perennials. And while I was in Parisians a few minutes ago, I saw the cutest shorts outfit that just looked like Julie, so I bought it for her to try on. If it doesn’t fit, you can always take it back.”

  From Dee’s expression, I suspected she was thinking Nora could jolly well take it back herself. It’s hard to be a thoughtful grandmother. We sometimes don’t notice when our enthusiasms make more work for our children.

  A slim, barefoot teenager spoke from the kitchen door. “Gram? Is that you?” She wore more blusher and eye makeup than I like to see on a child, but was as pretty as could be. Her hair was red-gold, long, and curly. She’d caught it back with clips to swing loose on the shoulders of a peach knit top that exactly matched her nails and lips. Between the top and a minuscule denim skirt, she covered the bare essentials while showing a good bit of honey tan.

  Seeing a guest, she paused prettily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know we had company.” She tucked one small brown foot behind the other leg. “I didn’t put on my shoes.”

  “I never wear them unless I have to,” I assured her.

  Nora glowed with pride. “This is my granddaughter, Julie. Julie, Mrs. ummmm…”

  “Yarbrough,” I supplied again.

  Nora reached out and gave the girl a proud pat. “Julie’s a junior at The Montgomery Academy. Later this summer she and I are going to look at colleges, aren’t we, honey?”

  Julie squirmed. “I guess so.”

  She seemed so uncomfortable among us grownups that I tried to draw her out. “I saw your car outside. It’s adorable.” It must have been all those ruffled pillows. I hadn’t used the word “adorable” in years.

  It was the right thing to say, though, because Julie glowed. “Thanks. I love it!”

  “It’s a big help to have it,” her mother justified it apologetically. “I used to spend my life driving her places.” She turned to both Nora and Julie and explained, “Laura came looking for Harriet.” I didn’t bother to correct my name. It was a step up from “ummm.”

  Julie sat down beside her grandmother. “You haven’t told her Harriet’s split?”

  “Split?” I repeated blankly.

  Nora gave her daughter-in-law an unmistakable Mother Look.

  You know that look. Anybody who’s ever had a mother knows it. It’s the look that says, “You know very well what you have to do, so shape up and fly right!” I think Jesus himself got one at that wedding where they ran out of wine. Remember? Mary comes and tells him to do something about the situation, and he asks, “What does that have to do with me?” In the very next verse, she turns to the wine steward and says, “Do whatever he tells you.” It is my firm conviction that between those two verses she gave him a Mother Look and he capitulated.

  That afternoon, I watched Nora Sykes give Dee an unmistakable Mother Look, and I saw Dee cave in. She set down her Co-cola, blotted her lips, and confessed with pink cheeks, “I didn’t like to say this at the door, Laura, because you might have been from child welfare or something, but Harriet’s run away.”

  “I’m sorry.” I was more embarrassed for them than worried. I figured there’d been a blowup that morning and the child had stomped out. We had times like that with our own teenagers. “How long has she been gone?” I figured they’d say a couple of hours. Maybe, even, overnight. “I hope you won’t think I’m prying, but I really do need to see her.”

  To my astonishment, nobody said a word.

  Finally Julie said—seeming to speak her thoughts as they formed, “It must have been right after school let out. We got out on Saturday, because we had to make up a day, then the cheerleaders went up to Lake Jordan. Gram has a wonderful place up there where we all go sometimes—”

  “Not Harriet,” her grandmother interrupted emphatically. “She was never up there.”

  “I guess not. But anyway, another cheerleader’s grandmother has a house just down the lake from Gram’s, so our two sweet, wonderful grandmothers—” she leaned over and gave hers a quick hug “—lent us their houses, and we went up and hung out for the weekend.”

  “With chaperones,” her mother hastened to add.

  “Of course, mother. Anyway, we were there Saturday night and all day Sunday. Wasn’t that when Harriet and Daddy had their fight?”

  “Not really a fight.” Nora raised one hand in distress. “More of a disagreement.”

  I had bigger things to think about than whether this family had fights or mere disagreements. Julie was talking about six weeks ago! And there sat Dee, doing some figuring of her own. “Harriet was here the day I bought my pink dress, I know, because I’d left laundry on her bed that morning and it was gone when I got back from the manicurist. That was Tuesday, I think.” She sighed and explained apologetically, “I’m sorry we can’t be more explicit, Laura, but one reason it’s so hard to remember is, it didn’t happen all at once. Harriet and William had a row on Saturday, and she got furious and stormed out. Several times in the next few days, though, she had somebody drive her out to pick up things. I know she was here Sunday while we were at church, and I think she came at least twice after that. I never saw her, but some of her things would be gone. I didn’t really notice when she stopped coming. At firs
t, I didn’t even worry. We were going to the mountains that next week, and I had so much to do.”

  Seeing my expression, she added defensively, “We left a note on the kitchen table telling her to go stay with William’s grandmother if she came back while we were gone.”

  Harriet’s money sat like lead on my chest, and I felt like somebody had punched me in the stomach. “So she’s been gone since early June? And the police haven’t found her?”

  I tried to sound as casual as they did, but knew I’d failed when Dee flushed. “William—my husband—refuses to report her missing.”

  I must have looked as incredulous as I felt, because Nora hurried to explain, “He’s not being utterly unreasonable. It was the third time the child had run away in two months. Before, she’d just gone to a friend’s and not told Dee or William where she was. William was mortified when the police found her so easily, so this time he’s dug in his heels.” Her hands clenched and unclenched in tight fists. “But he’s wrong. I’ve told him so a hundred times.”

  Julie shrugged. “He says she can find her own way home this time.”

  Dee dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “But what if she gets—hurt? Or worse?” I couldn’t help thinking that not noticing when somebody stopped coming home wasn’t real consistent with getting teary-eyed over what might be happening to her. Besides, I didn’t see any tears.

  “Don’t get maudlin,” Nora said sharply. “That wretched child worried you to death while she was here, and you know it. But she does need to be found.”

  “She’s probably down at Ricky’s again,” Julie said, in that irritating tone of utter reason teens use with their parents. “He’s the only person she’s ever cared anything about.”

  “Not in a romantic way,” her grandmother objected.

  “Oh, no. She saved all that for Lewis Henly.” She drawled the name dramatically and flung back her hair.

  “Julie!” Dee frowned, scandalized. “You know very well Mr. Henly is—” she stopped abruptly. “Have you finished packing?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And Rachel called. Her mother doesn’t mind if I drive.”

  “Julie is going down to Gulf Shores for a week at the beach at her friend’s condo,” her grandmother explained to me. “Why can’t Rachel’s mother take you all down, honey?”

  It was Dee who replied, in almost exactly the tone her daughter had just used, “Her mother’s already down there.” She turned back to her daughter. “You cannot drive, and that’s final. If Rachel’s dad can’t take you, I will.”

  Julie wrinkled her nose, but she’d been raised not to argue in front of company.

  “Look!” Her grandmother distracted her by holding up the shopping bag. “I bought you a new outfit. See how you like it.”

  Julie pulled out a turquoise top. “It’s gorgeous, Gram. Thanks!” She looked at me and said sweetly, “Would you excuse me? I want to try this on, then I need to go to the mall.”

  Obviously they all had things to do, and I’d already eaten more cookies than good manners permitted. Since Harriet wasn’t likely to be back anytime soon, it was time for me to leave the money and get back to Jake and Glenna.

  That’s when the funniest thing happened.

  I discovered I couldn’t for the life of me hand over Harriet’s money to people who didn’t remember the last time they saw her. I knew perfectly well she could have stolen it from them. Some people do keep that much money around the house. But even if the money was theirs, I wanted to give it back to Harriet. If it was stolen, returning it was her job.

  I did, however, want their reaction to the other thing I’d found. “At the center, I found a book and some papers Harriet must have left there. One of the papers looked important. It was an application form for an acting school.”

  Julie, just at the kitchen door, turned with a superior smile. “That’s Harriet, all right. Always expecting to turn from an ugly duckling into a swan.”

  “Julie!” Dee scolded, understandably appalled.

  “I’m going. See you.” She left with an airy wave.

  “Wasn’t William and Harriet’s fight about that acting school?” Nora forgot she’d been calling it a disagreement not five minutes before.

  Dee nodded. “That and dying her hair. Harriet wanted to dye her hair black and go stay with some of Mama’s cousins in Atlanta to take acting lessons all summer. William didn’t think it was a good idea. He thought she was too young.”

  “He was absolutely right, of course.” On the table, Nora folded and unfolded the front page of one of the catalogues she’d brought. “A sheer waste of money.”

  I stood and said lamely, “Well, I’m sorry I missed her. I hope you find her soon. Let me just leave you a number where you can reach me.”

  Nora frowned in thought. “Do you reckon Harriet has gone back to that Ricky’s, Dee?”

  Dee also stood. “Heaven only knows,” she said wearily. “My mother took in foster children,” she explained to me, “and he was the last. He stayed nearly three years, off and on, so Harriet thinks of him as almost a brother.”

  “Some brother.” Nora’s lips puckered with distaste. “Always in trouble, living in a trailer out toward the airport with a girl he has no intention of marrying—”

  “He’s been good to Harriet,” Dee defended him. “He and Beverly always let her stay with them before. Honestly, Laura,” she shook her head in dismay, “you’ll think we beat the child! But we gave her everything we knew how to give.” Her gaze swept the lovely backyard and shimmering pool. “When you came, I hoped you had information about her. I even hoped you’d found her.”

  I knew it wasn’t any of my business, but as Joe Riddley often says, Advice ought to be my middle name. “Have you called Ricky? At least you’d know she was there.”

  “I tried calling, but he hung up on me!” Dee’s eyes flashed with indignation. “I even thought about going out there, but William told me not to. He says it’s time Harriet suffers the consequences of her actions.”

  “Somebody ought to go,” Nora muttered. I wondered if she was thinking the same thing I was: In today’s world, some consequences can be deadly.

  Impulsively, I offered, “I’m just here for a few days while my brother is in the hospital, but he’s in intensive care, so I have a lot of free time. I could run out to Ricky’s one afternoon, just to be sure she’s there.”

  “Why on earth did you butt in like that?” Joe Riddley would demand later.

  “Because it looked mindlessly simple,” I would reply.

  “Little Bit,” he would tell me, “when things are really that simple, somebody else does them.” He is absolutely right.

  That afternoon, however, I was cheered by the way Dee’s face brightened. “Would you? I would really appreciate it. Wait a minute and I’ll get you his address.”

  While she was gone, Nora confided, “Dee worries far too much about that child. Of course, Harriet has nobody else. Her mother left when she was barely two, and her father consoled himself pretty soon with a floozy who didn’t want a baby around. They hightailed it to Texas, leaving poor Mrs. Lawson with the child when she was well past fifty.”

  “Poor Harriet!” I exclaimed, appalled.

  “Oh, I don’t think you miss parents you never knew, and Frank certainly never came back more than once or twice. Then he got himself killed last winter on an oil rig.”

  “So when her grandmother died, Harriet had nowhere else to go.” It wasn’t a brilliant deduction, but I was trying to hold up my end of the conversation.

  Nora shrugged. “She could have gone to her mother’s sister, Eunice Crawley—isn’t that a dreadful name?—but she lives up in Chisholm and works all day. On the whole it was wiser for her to come here, although it put a lot of pressure on Dee and William. She requires a lot of supervision.”

  I couldn’t help reflecting that Harriet wasn’t getting much lately.

  We heard a murmur of voices, then Julie’s car started and Dee came in holding a scrap
of paper and a bunch of Gerber daisies. She held out the paper. “I’d sure appreciate your going to Ricky’s, Laura. Here’s the address where he lived last spring, and I guess he’s still there. My husband isn’t a bad man, but he’s not a patient one, and he says Harriet’s put me through one wringer too many. If you find her, please tell her we miss her.” She held out the daisies, too. “I know your brother can’t have flowers in intensive care, but I thought they might cheer you up. I’ve wrapped wet paper towels around them and put them in a plastic bag. They’ll keep until you get home.”

  She walked me to the car. Before I left she asked anxiously, “You’ll let me know what you find out about Harriet, won’t you? I’d sure appreciate it.”

  I’d stayed longer than I intended, so I headed around the first curve going faster than I should have. I nearly ran into Julie, parked smack-dab in the road.

  I slammed on the brakes, sending Dee’s daisies careening onto the floor, and stopped scarcely a car’s length from her bumper. Julie hopped out and ran back to my window.

  “I could have hit you!” I said severely, one hand on my thudding heart.

  “I was watching for you, and had my foot on the gas in case you couldn’t stop. Listen. I had to tell you two things I couldn’t say at home. First, Harriet may have gone to live with her mom. My parents pretend Myrna is dead, but I overheard them talking once. I think she’s living down in New Orleans—as a prostitute, or something.”

  I don’t like to let on when children shock me, but Julie caught me by surprise. Her lips flickered in a pleased little smile. “Also, Mom said you’re going down to see Ricky. I know she says she hasn’t gone because Daddy won’t let her—”

  Oho! I thought. The child listens at doors.

  She either didn’t know she’d given herself away or didn’t care. “—but that’s not the real reason. Daddy might be furious, but he usually lets Mama do whatever she wants. The real reason she hasn’t gone is, Ricky’s scary.”