Adeline searched for her mother’s face among the crowds as her tiny frame dangled sideways under the fortune teller’s arm. If she found it, she wondered if her expression would say, ‘I told you so.’
***
The carnival had rolled into town on Thursday night, just as it did every year at the end of April, when it was still early springtime in Maine. Missionville was always first on the carnival circuit and for most people it was an exciting event. It marked the end of the long, desolate winter, and was a delightful teaser to the summer ahead; the first in a long string of thrills, but not everyone felt that way. Adeline’s mother hated the carnival. To her, it was so akin to hell that the fire and brimstone it carried with it melted what was left of the snow. It was a haven for prostitutes and drug dealers and tempted those already on the edge of sin. It was a place rife with danger; where gypsies stole away children, and limbs and severed heads littered the ground around the rides that had claimed them. Adeline was never allowed to go, but that didn’t stop her from asking. She’d started begging as soon as the posters began to pop up all over town.
“But everyone else is going. Everyone is talking about it in school,” she whined. “There’s going to be a Tilt-O-Whirl and everything! Janine won a huge stuffed turtle last year, and Sophie said they had the best Dough Boys she’s ever eaten.”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” Adeline’s mother said.
“But everyone will think I’m a freak if I don’t go.”
“I don’t care what everyone thinks. And I don’t care what everyone else does. Gambling is just fine for the likes of Janine,” she said, “but not for my child.”
“She wasn’t gambling,” Adeline sighed. “She was playing a game. You know, like the games we play at the church picnics.”
“Don’t you sit there and compare our blessed church to that rat-infested cesspool,” her mother snapped. “I won’t have this kind of talk in my house. You’re not going and that is that.”
Adeline pouted. She swore her mother hated everything fun. They never went anywhere in the summer except church. While her friends prattled on about camping trips and parades, barbecues and boat rides, Adeline stayed quiet and churned with envy. “But it’s not fair,” Adeline said.
“Fair? You want to talk about fair? How fair is it that I’m the one stuck raising you while your father is off committing I-don’t-know how many sins? How fair is it that I’m working two jobs just so I can put food on the table? Don’t you talk to me about fair! Even if I wanted to let you go, which I most certainly do not, I wouldn’t have the money. I can barely pay the rent, so you can just spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning that pit you call a bedroom and think about that!”
Adeline stormed into her room and slammed the door. Her insides ached with injustice. She jumped onto her bed, snatched her diary out from underneath the mattress, and tore it open. She flipped to a blank page, and wrote, ‘mom is a bitch.’ The satisfaction she felt was momentary. “I’m sorry, God. I didn’t mean it,” she said, scribbling over what she had written. She yanked out the page, ripped it to shreds, and tossed the pieces into the trash can. She turned her gaze towards the ceiling, “God, if you’d just please let me go to the carnival, I’ll never say anything bad about my mother again,” she prayed, though she knew it was a lie. It was supposed to be a sin to hate your mother, but sometimes Adeline did. She didn’t understand why her mom was so mean, because the truth was, she didn’t know much about her mother at all. There weren’t any pictures of her from before Adeline was born, and her mother never shared any of the details about her childhood. Whenever Adeline asked, her mother would say, ‘We don’t air our dirty linen in public,’ whatever that meant. If Adeline persisted she’d get mad, “Leave it alone. My past is mine to forget,” she’d say. If she had ever done anything that brought a smile or provoked a laugh; if she had ever done anything silly or even remotely adventurous, there was no sign. The only smile she ever wore was the fake one at church.
“I don’t hear any cleaning going on in there,” her mother hollered.
Adeline stuck her tongue out at the door, jumped off the bed, and kicked a pile of dirty clothes underneath her dresser. She’d never met her father, but sometimes she wished he’d taken her with him when he left. She thought about that while she cleaned her room.
***
“And the Lord said, “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel!” Pastor Cranmore boomed during Wednesday evening service.
Adeline, who’d fallen asleep, jumped to her feet. “Pepperoni pizza!” she cried out, still in the throes of a dream. Everyone turned to stare. Adeline’s mother grabbed the back of her pants, hauled her back down into the pew, and gave her a scathing look. Adeline shrugged.
“Let us pray,” Pastor Cranmore said. Everyone bowed their heads. “Lord, please look over my flock as they venture forth to do your work. Protect my children as they descend upon that heathen carnival to deliver your words and let them be heard, in Christ’s name, Amen.”
Adeline’s heart skipped. Carnival? She sat up straight and stole a sideways glance at her mother. She was frowning.
Adeline smiled and clasped her hands. “Thank you, God,” she said.
Her mother elbowed her in the rib. “Don’t get too excited, young lady. I have no intention of going,” she whispered.
“But…” Adeline started.
“We’ll discuss this later,” her mother hissed. “Now pay attention.”
Adeline scowled.
“I’m going to need some volunteers,” Pastor Cranmore said. He scanned the congregation until his eyes fell on Adeline’s mother. She stiffened. “Charity Loveridge, I’d like you to take the lead on this,” he said. “We’re going to need some brochures and…,” he continued, talking on and on, but Adeline didn’t hear the rest. She was going to the carnival!
***
“Remember, we are here to do the Lord’s work, young lady, and nothing more,” Adeline’s mother said the next evening when the church van rolled into a parking space on the edge of the fairgrounds.
Adeline’s face was pressed up against the window in the back seat. “I see Janine! And there’s Ramona!” she exclaimed.
“Did you hear me?”
“A Ferris Wheel! There’s a Ferris Wheel! Oh! Can I go on it just once? Please, please, pretty please?” Adeline begged.
“Adeline Louise,” Adeline’s mother snapped, “I already told you ‘no.’ We’re going to hand out church fliers and that’s all.”
“But that’s not fair!”
“Don’t start with that again. You knew how it was going to be. Now come on. The sooner we hand these out, the sooner we can leave,” she said, slapping a stack of papers into Adeline’s hand.
Adeline sulked. She took the brochures, hopped out of the van, and joined the others who had gathered out on the grass.
“Okay, everyone,” Pastor Cranmore said. “Let’s break up into our groups. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”
“Come on, Adeline,” her mother said, casting a wary glance toward the entrance. “Let’s get this over with.”
Adeline skipped. She couldn’t contain her excitement. The music! The people! She’d never seen anything like it! It was all so thrilling! She ran on ahead.
“Get back here this minute,” Adeline’s mother hollered, running to capture her. Her hand shook as it closed around Adeline’s. “That place is so full of sin, I can feel it from here.”
“Tickets!” the man hollered at the gate. “Get your tickets! Ride all night, only twenty bucks!” he said, waving a string of colorful stubs. He gave Adeline and her mother a lop-sided grin, revealing a mouth full of blackened teeth. “How about it, pretty little ladies? Need some tickets?” he winked.
Adeline reached out to take one, but her mother slapped her hand away. “No thank you,” she said to the man, “but if you care to spare a minute, I’d like to talk to you about Jesus,” she said, pulling out a brochure.
The man’s smile turned into a scowl. “Lady, do I look like I want to talk about Jesus? Cripes,” he growled, “move it along before you scare off my customers!” he said.
Adeline’s mother sighed. “Well, I didn’t say it was going to be easy. Let’s start in the back and work our way through,” she said.
Adeline trailed behind, taking in the sights and smells. “Can I get some cotton candy or maybe a hot dog?” she asked, her stomach growling as she eyed all of the food trucks.
“No,” her mother said. “I’ll make you a peanut butter sandwich when we get home.”
Adeline frowned.
“Everyone’s a winner, folks!” A man bellowed as they entered the game section. “A dollar a try!”
Adeline saw some kids from school playing basketball toss. They looked like they were having a blast. She wished she could play too. “Can I go and say hello?” she asked, hopefully.
“No,” her mother hissed, stopping to give a brochure to a young couple with kids. When they started moving again, Adeline saw a tent with a sign on the outside. It said, ‘Fortunes Read. Five Dollars.’ As she contemplated what it might be like to know the future, an old woman emerged. She wore a funny hat and had on a long skirt. She waved when she saw Adeline. Adeline waved back.
“Adeline!” a voice screeched suddenly from somewhere behind them.
Adeline whirled around. It was Ramona. She was carrying a giant stuffed lion. “Wow! Where’d you get that?” Adeline asked, reaching over to stroke it.
“I won it,” Ramona said proudly.
“Lucky!” Adeline said enviously.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Ramona said. “No one will go on the Zipper with me. Can you?”
“What’s a Zipper?” Adeline asked.
“Only the coolest, scariest ride ever,” Ramona said. “It’s this big cage thing that takes you up in the air and turns you upside down and spins you all around. A whole bunch of kids already threw up on it. It’s real neat.”
It sounded great. Adeline looked at her mother with pleading eyes.
“Absolutely not. It’s not safe,” she said.
Just then, Pastor Cranmore and some of the other members of the group walked up and began talking to Adeline’s mother about all the sin they’d seen.
“Well, I better go,” Ramona said. “I’ll see you around.”
“Okay, bye,” Adeline said, disappointedly. She glanced over at the tent again. The old woman was still there, and she was staring at Adeline. When she motioned for her to come over, Pastor Cranmore said, “It looks like that lady wants a brochure. “Can you give her one, Adeline.”
Adeline didn’t know if she wanted to. She looked kind of scary.
Adeline’s mother stopped talking just long enough to say, “Go on ahead, Adeline. It’s fine,” before going back to her conversation.
Reluctantly, Adeline meandered over to the tent. She kept a cautious distance as she held out a brochure. “Here’s some stuff about Jesus and things,” she said.
The fortune teller smiled, “Why, thank you, child,” she said, reaching out to accept it. “’Course, I can’t see a thing without my reading glasses. I’ll have to go in and get them. Why don’t you come along in case I have any questions?”
Adeline looked back towards her mother, who was still busy talking. She knew she shouldn’t, but she followed the fortune teller inside anyway. Before she knew what was happening, the fortune teller snatched her up and carried her out the back.
***
Adeline wiggled and thrashed, but the fortune teller tightened her grip and hurried toward the back field. Adeline tried to call out before she could be carried further out of sight, but the old woman clamped her free hand over Adeline’s mouth. “Shush,” she said.
The intoxicating aroma of grilled onions, fried sausages, and cotton candy dissipated as they moved further away from the fairgrounds, and it began to smell more like Porta Potties and grease. It was quieter back there, but Adeline could still hear the muted sounds of music and laughter. Every so often a shriek of terror or perhaps delight would pierce the air, as whoever it came from churned around inside of the Zipper. “It isn’t safe,” her mother had said. Adeline smirked, despite her dilemma. “Yeah. This was so much safer,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes.
“What’d ya say girl?” the fortune teller asked.
“Nothing,” Adeline said.
The old woman’s pace began to slow as they neared a row of campers. “Well, we’re here,” she said, coming to a full stop. “It ain’t much, but it’s home.”
Adeline lifted her head. “Home” was a rusted, red trailer that looked so fragile, a stiff wind could probably blow it to pieces.
“Dale!” the old woman screeched. “Where you at, boy? You come on out here and help me with this child,” she huffed, out of breath. She set Adeline down but kept a hand on her shoulder.
Adeline startled when a large boy busted out through the door and ran down the steps. “Who’s this?” he asked, giving Adeline a once over.
“Don’t matter who. You just help me get her inside. And quick,” she said, stealing a nervous glance around.
The boy called Dale scooped Adeline up. She didn’t even try to fight or get away. She just let him carry her up the steps and inside.
“Have a seat,” the fortune teller said, after she’d followed them in.
Adeline hesitated, glancing back toward the door.
“You can run if you want,” the fortune teller said following Adeline’s gaze. “but I wouldn’t advise it. The carnival can be a pretty dangerous place for a girl alone. Ain’t that right, Dale,” she said, shooting him a look.
Dale pulled a small knife out of his pocket, held it up to the light, and ran his finger along the edge of the blade. Adeline’s heart skipped. This is it, she thought, I’m about to be murdered. Desperate, she searched for something she could say and decided on, “Did you know that Jesus says it’s a sin to murder, especially children? So, you should probably let me go. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.”
“No one’s gonna hurt ya, honey,” the fortune teller said. “Dale can be a little rough, but don’t be scared. He’s harmless. He don’t know no better.”
Adeline prayed that was true. She eyed Dale suspiciously and was relieved when he plucked a piece of wood off from the table and began to whittle with the knife.
“Dale, you go on outside now. I’ll call you if I need you,” the fortune teller said.
Dale shrugged, took the wood and knife, and went back outside.
The fortune teller turned her attention back to Adeline. “I just want to talk with you a while,” she said. “That’s all.”
Adeline couldn’t imagine what they’d have to talk about or why.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Adeline.” Adeline said.
The old woman smiled. “That’s a right fine and proper name. People call me Ro. How old are you, child?” she asked.
“Eight,” Adeline said.
Ro sucked in her breath and put her hand over her heart. “My goodness. Eight whole years,” she shook her head. “Time does fly. Doesn’t seem like so long ago that my little girl was eight.”
“You had a little girl?” Adeline asked. Somehow the very notion was a shock.
“Yep, I sure did and she was a beauty. Course not quite as pretty as you,” she winked, “but she was a looker, that one. And the talent! People came from all around just to see her perform.”
Adeline’s interest was piqued. “What did she do?” she asked.
“Do?” Ro cried. “Why, she was one of the biggest deals around, that one! She was a Trapeze artist and a high wire acrobat!”
“Wow! That’s neat!” Adeline cried, unable to help herself.
“Mmm hmm,” Ro nodded proudly. “Oh, that girl worked so hard. Up each morning at four; practicing until it was too dark to see. Couldn’t keep her away from it. She was addicted. She started young and made quite a name for herself here on the carnival circuit before she even turned ten.”
“She lived at the carnival?” Adeline asked incredulously.
“Of course she did. I raised her right up in it. She loved it. Yep, she was a carny girl through and through,” Ro said.
“I wish I lived at a carnival,” Adeline said. “I bet it’s fun. I bet you get to travel around and visit all kinds of places. I almost never get to do anything. Do you like living here?”
“I do. Been with it a long time. I suppose it’s like everything else; good points and bad ones. Sometimes it can get real lonely. I sure do miss my daughter,” she said.
“What happened to her?” Adeline asked. “Did the Gypsies steal her?’
Ro laughed heartily. “’Course not. She grew up, like all kids do,” she said. “She fell in love and had her heart broken when her honey ran off with the snake charmer. She blamed it on the carnival life. She blamed me. When she found out she was gonna have a baby, and couldn’t perform anymore, she got terrible depressed. There was nothing anyone could do for her. When the Christians came, one of them told her that the carnival folk were all sinners. Said her misery was her own fault because she lived a life full of sin. He promised her a new life full of happiness if she left with him and joined their church. He told her that God could make her happy again.”
Adeline thought about that. Her mother believed in God, but she wasn’t happy. “Did she go with him?” she asked.
Ro gave Adeline a sad smile. “She did.”
Adeline felt bad for her. “The Christians aren’t bad,” she said, trying to lighten her mood. “They’re mostly nice, I guess. They wouldn’t hurt her or anything.”
“Oh, sweet pea,” Ro said, reaching over to touch Adeline’s cheek. “No group of people is all bad or all good. It’s a dangerous thing to think that way. You have to take each person, individually. What that man said about carnival folk all being bad was wrong. That did hurt her. It ain’t right to judge someone just cause of where they came from. No one is free from sin. Not the carnival folk, nor any Christian. It doesn’t matter where you come from, it matters what’s on the inside. The carnival does have some awful sinners, but you might be surprised to know we have some Christians here too.”
“You do?” Adeline asked, surprised.
“Sure we do. Religion can be a blessed thing to have in your life, just so long as that’s not all you have. You have to make time for other things. One thing my girl should have known, being a high wire acrobat and all, is that you gotta have balance. If you lean too far in one direction you’re bound to fall. It’s best to stay right in the middle. She forgot that she was always the happiest in the middle. ‘Course if you stay grounded,” she added, “you can’t fall at all, but some people are born with their head in the clouds and that’s a whole different story.”
Adeline wanted to hear more about that, but didn’t dare ask. “Did she ever come back to visit?”
“I’m afraid not. She swore she’d never set foot in a carnival again. She said she wanted to forget about the past.”
“That’s what my mom always says,” Adeline said.
“Well, sorry to be the one to tell you, but that ain’t right. If you forget the past, you forget everything. The good and the bad. The happy and the sad. It’s all part of who you are. It’s all part of who you become.”
Adeline vowed to tell her mother that if she ever saw her again.
As if reading her mind, Ro said, “Well, I hate to, but I suppose I’d better take you back. I’m just so glad I got to meet you.”
Adeline smiled. “I’m glad I got to meet you too.” She knew her mother must be worried, but she wished she could stay a little longer. She was sure Ro had a lot of interesting stories to tell. “I hope you get to see your daughter again,” she said.
“I’m sure I will,” Ro said knowingly. “Sometimes folks just need a little jolt to the memory bank to get them right again.”
Adeline started for the door, but then stopped. “Can you really tell the future?” she asked.
Ro chuckled. “I get a glimpse every once in a while,”
“Can you tell me what mine is before we go?” Adeline asked hopefully.
“Let me see your hand,” the fortune teller said.
When Adeline gave it to her the old woman turned it over and traced her finger along the palm. “Looks like you’re going to have a busy summer. I see some adventures coming your way,” she said.
“Seriously? Are you sure?” Adeline asked excitedly.
“The outlook is good,” Ro winked.
Adeline hoped that was true.
“Just remember, a person’s future is up to them,” Ro said. “Keep an open mind and you’ll do alright.” She opened the door and together they started back towards the fairgrounds.
“How are we going to find my mother?” Adeline asked, snaking her way through the crowd.
“Don’t you worry. I think I know where she might be,” Ro said. “At least I hope so,” she added.
They walked on and on until they came to a large tented arena. Ro ushered Adeline inside. “There she is,” she said, pointing towards a maze of ropes near the ceiling. “I knew she’d come to her senses, eventually.”
Adeline couldn’t believe her eyes. Her mother was up there, and she was balancing on the high wire! She had a smile so bright, Adeline almost didn’t recognize her.
“Hi Adeline! Hi Mama!” Adeline’s mother waved enthusiastically when she spotted them. “I’d forgotten all about this! I’d forgotten how much fun this could be!”
Shocked, Adeline turned to Ro.
“People call me Ro,” she said. “but I hope you’ll call me Mami.”
Adeline laughed. “Really?”
“Come on up here, Adeline, and give it a try,” Adeline’s mother said. “I think it’s time we had a little fun. I think you’re going to love this!”
Frankie was seven years old the time her mother pulled up in front of her aunt’s house in a borrowed convertible and hollered for her to come outside.
“I have an arrangement at the lake. Get in,” Frankie’smom said as she opened the passenger door. “We can stay up there for the rest of the summer, but I’ll have to clean cabins.”
Frankie was delighted. She had been missing her mother so fiercely, she’d started wearing one of her shirts to bed, just so she’d feel near. Her mother was wild that year, sneaking in sometimes in the middle of the night to whisk Frankie away for a few days; other times, not showing up for weeks. Frankie was used to spending a few nights a week with her aunt, but as the summer wore on, her mother began to leave her more frequently and for longer stretches of time. This time, her mother had been gone so long, Frankie worried she’d never come back.
Frankie leapt into her arms and covered her with kisses. Then she sensed her mother’s mood. It was something she’d been able to do for a long time. She was glad, because it told her how she should feel and how to behave. Today, her mother was needles and sparkler spray. Sometimes she was birthday parties and balloons, but at others she was bees and burdocks. Frankie stiffened and slid down. It was becoming harder to tell. She’d have to be careful.
“Where’d you get the car?” Frankie asked. The last time her mother had been by, she didn’t have a car. Frankie inspected it and tried to remain calm.
Her mother’s eyes roamed constantly, as if she was trying to see everything at once. She flinched when a crow flew overhead.
“I got it in case I need to escape in a hurry,” she said.
Frankie wanted to ask if she would come to get her if that time came. “It’s dirty,” she remarked instead. A thick layer of grime covered the exterior. She ran a finger up the side, revealing the red paint underneath.
“Well, we haven’t had rain in months! Everything’s dirty. Hurry up! We’ve got to go!” Frankie’s mother stomped her foot and rattled the door.
“How long this time, Nancy?” Frankie’s aunt asked. She was standing at the doorway with Frankie’s suitcase.
Her mother glared. “You just never mind how long,” she snapped. “It will be what it will be.”
Frankie grimaced. Her mother and aunt didn’t get along. When the two of them were together it was like getting called to the principal’s office. She loved her aunt because she was always pancakes and coloring books, but she loved her mother more.
“It’ll be okay,” her aunt said with a wink. “Don’t run off without your stuff, now.” She handed Frankie the bag and kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you soon.” She glanced at the car. “Does that thing have a top, Nancy? Supposed to storm later.”
“Nope. It’s busted,” Frankie’s mother said as she scanned the sky. “I guess I can throw a tarp over it if I have to.” Then without warning she screamed, “Tornado!”
Frankie knew there wasn’t a tornado, but she dropped into a crouch right there on the steps and covered her head.
“Good,” her mother said. “Now what?”
“Find a basement to hide in,” Frankie said.
“Very good.”
“You need to stop doing those ridiculous drills, Nancy!” her aunt cut in. “You’re going to scare that child to death!”
“A lot of bad things can happen. I’m trying to prepare her!”
Frankie felt her mother’s mood shift again. It was skating on a pond and hearing the ice crack. She grew still and quiet.
“Prepare her for what, for heaven sakes?”
“The unexpected.”
“Well, a tornado in Maine would certainly be unexpected.” Her aunt shook her head.
“Let’s go!” Frankie’s mother boomed. Frankie jumped. She threw her stuff into the back, kicking up a whirlwind of filth, and hopped in the car.
Her mother’s hair, cut too short, fluttered around her face as they drove up the twisting road towards the mountain. Her hands shook as she fished a pack of cigarettes out of the console.
“You smoke?” Frankie croaked. Her mother said people only smoked when they wanted to kill themselves. Frankie wanted to rip them out of her hand and chuck them out of the car.
She struck a match and lit one. “Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t,’ she said, flicking the match and letting the wind carry it away.
The car swerved. “Accident!” she hollered. “Brace!”
Frankie tucked her head in between her knees.
“You’ll need to be faster than that, Frankie. Accidents can happen at any time. And don’t forget to cover your head.”
Before Frankie could sit back up all the way, her mother was at it again. “Crash!” she shrieked, only this time it was for real. Frankie squeaked as her mother slammed on the brakes. A cow moose bounded on gangly legs across the road and missed the car by inches.
“See?” her mother said, clutching her chest. “You weren’t expecting that, were you?”
“No,” Frankie admitted, trying to catch her breath.
“From now on, you’ll have to be the lookout. Don’t take your eyes off the side of the road for even a second. Tell me immediately if you see anything.”
Frankie stayed alert. She scanned back and forth, looking for animals on the sides of the road while her mother stared straight ahead. She gripped the steering wheel so tightly, Frankie was sure it would disintegrate in her fingers.
“We’re here,” her mother finally announced, letting out a sigh of relief. She pulled up in front of a tiny, brown cabin. “You stay here while I go square things with the owner.”
Frankie nodded. Her mother was clean sheets and Saturday morning donuts. Her stomach relaxed. She got out of the car. The air was a mix of boggy freshness from the lake and tangy pine dander. Somewhere, way off, a loon called.
“We’re all set,” her mother said. She dangled a set of keys in her hand. “I’m afraid I won’t have much time to spend with you, so after you put your stuff away you can just go play. But don’t go too far,” she added.
Frankie dumped her stuff into the cabin and started towards the water.
“Wait!” her mother bellowed. Frankie skidded to a stop. “Don’t talk to strangers, especially men. Don’t go into the water past your knees, and for God sakes, get back to the cabin if you see any lightning.”
“Okay,” Frankie said. She took a couple of steps and waited.
“Don’t touch any wild animals and look out for ticks. Put on some bug spray.”
Frankie went back in, grabbed a can of Ben’s, and went back outside.
“You know what?” her mother said, surveying the grounds, “I think you better stay right here. There’s too much that could go wrong.”
Frankie sighed.
“I’ll just feel better,” her mother said. “And don’t give me that look. I’ll be back later and then we can roast some hot dogs.”
That night, Frankie put her sleeping bag onto a platform bed and wiggled inside. The frogs were croaking, ga-gunk, back and forth down by the lake, competing with the sound of distant thunder that had begun. It was warm and cozy in there, and she was almost lulled to sleep when her mother came in to kiss her goodnight. She was the first day at a new school. Frankie’s stomach tightened. “Is everything okay? Is there anything I need to worry about?”
“I’m not sure just yet. I’ll be outside, watching this storm. It might turn out to be a bad one.”
“Okay,” Frankie said. She was too tired to worry.
A few hours later, she awoke with a start. The cabin was pitch black. Her mother’s face was a mask of terror as it came into view, suddenly illuminated by flash of white light.
“There’s a fire,” she said, her voice high and tight. She was the day her father hadn’t come home. “We need to leave.”
Frankie sucked in her breath, startled, and got a lungful of smoke. It made her teeth chatter. She jumped up, still in her sleeping bag. “Where? What happened? What should we do?”
“I don’t know! It was a lightning strike up in the mountains. All I know is that we need to get out of here before it spreads.”
Frankie wrestled out of the bag and stumbled around in the dark trying to collect her clothes and toys.
“Leave it all here! We have to go!” her mother said. She pulled Frankie towards the door. They got into the car and started down the road, but the only way out was blocked by fire trucks and rescue vehicles. Frankie glanced behind them. The side of the mountain danced with orange flames.
“What’s the drill?” Frankie cried. “How do we prepare?”
Her mother’s eyes darted wildly. “I … I don’t know,” she stammered. “I didn’t expect this.”
A fireman approached the vehicle. “You’re gonna have to turn around. The whole road is blocked all the way to town with people coming to help.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Frankie’s mother howled.
“Hunker down the best you can. Cover yourselves with wet blankets or get into the lake if you have to,” he suggested before racing off again.
Frankie’s mother whipped the car around and drove back to the campground. People were pointing and crying. “It’s coming this way!” someone screamed.
Frankie’s mother shouted, “Everyone grab a blanket and head to the lake!”
A panicked woman stood in the middle of the chaos. She seemed to be having a hard time breathing. Her eyes were wide with fear. Frankie’s mother took her hand and tried to pull her towards the shore, but the woman wouldn’t budge. “I can’t swim!” she bawled.
“You’re going to be okay!” Frankie’s mother told her. “It’s going to be okay. Everyone stick together. Follow me!” she ordered over the noise. The woman began to move along with the rest of the others. Everyone followed Frankie’s mother down to the lake. Frankie stopped for just a second to check her mood, so she would know how to feel. For the first time in a long time, her mother’s eyes were still. She was learning to ride a bike or climbing to the top of the monkey bars. She was strong.
They all splashed into the lake as hot embers rained down around them. “Wet your blankets and put them over your head,” Frankie’s mother advised.
The water was heated by the sun of a hundred days of summer drought. They were safe under their blankets, but Frankie’s mother announced that she needed to go back to the cabin. Frankie panicked. She grabbed her mother’s legs and tried to stop her. “Don’t go! Please, don’t leave me! Stay here with me!” she begged, sure something awful was about to happen or that her mother would use the car to somehow escape.
Frankie’s mother kissed her nose, “It’ll be okay,” she whispered. Her voice sounded like warm milk and caramels. “I promise. I’ll be right back.” She darted out from under the blanket. Frankie sobbed as she watched her mother dodge falling branches. Just when Frankie thought she’d left for good, she returned and passed around water and food to those in need. Frankie nearly collapsed with relief.
They spent the rest of the night there in the lake, whispering words of comfort to one another and swapping stories. When the sun came up, they were tired, but unscathed. The fire had been contained, but it had cut out a large swath of the trees to the west of them. Frankie saw black scars marring the landscape and steamy whiffs of smoldering ash rising from the ground. The people emerged from the water tired but spared.
The crowd began to dwindle as the roads cleared. They uttered words of thanks to Frankie’s mom as they drove away. She packed up the car and they, too, drove towards town. She didn’t call out any drills on the return, and her eyes stayed quiet. She was the first day of feeling good after a long sickness.
She pulled up in front of a house that Frankie didn’t recognize.
“What are we doing here?” Frankie asked.
“Returning this car,” Frankie’s mother said.
“Don’t you need it? What about your escape? What if something bad happens?” Frankie asked, holding her breath.
“If it does,” her mother said, “I hope we’ll be able to work it out together. I’d like to try.”
For once, Frankie knew how to feel all on her own. It was happy.
End
*This story was originally published by Edify Fiction on January 1, 2018
**No part of this story may be copied or reproduced without consent from the author
*This story originally appeared in Every Writer’s Resource. From there, it was seen and requested by the Mystery Tribune, and has been featured in their magazine for over a month now.
When I first wrote “Thief”, I submitted it to a few magazines, and it was rejected each time. I was starting to lose hope. I looked at it again, and made some small changes and few edits. Sometimes, that’s all it needs!
Don’t lose hope if you have written something and it is rejected. Keep working at it and remind yourself that even the “greats” have been rejected hundreds of times!
Please be sure to watch for my next story “Ice Cream or Moxie”. It will publish in Short Fiction Break on August 11th.
Thief
By Kristy Gherlone
I watch them together, though I’m supposed to be in my room. They’re sitting too close. Cigarette smoke trails in front of my eyes as I sit huddled in the corner.
They talk to each other like they’re good friends, but I don’t know the woman with my father. She’s pretty and young, but there’s something ugly about her too.
He faces her as he sits on the couch, strumming away on his guitar. The woman places her hand on his knee. Her thumb moves in lazy circles over the denim fabric of his pants before slipping in and out of a frayed hole to touch his bare skin.
I can’t breathe. I cough. The woman glares at me, then mashes her lips together until they melt into a smirk. Her eyes speak to me. They say, ‘I’m taking him. He’s mine now. Just sit there and let it happen.’ She turns back to my father. His eyes tell her that I’m not important. She smiles. I hold my blanket over my nose and breathe in filtered smoke as I suck my thumb.
My mother walks in. “Another guitar lesson?” She asks. Her voice is strange.
The woman takes her hand off from my father’s knee and he stops playing.
“Yes,” the woman answers. She picks her bag up off the floor. “I have to get back to work now. Same time tomorrow?” she asks my father, like she doesn’t need my mother’s permission. Like she’s going to be the boss now.
He clears his throat, “yeah, tomorrow’s good.”
“Bye,” she sings to me. She pats my head like I’m a dog before breezing out in a choke of perfume.
My father puts his guitar down and gets up. He stretches and walks over to the fridge, where he reaches in for a beer.
“I don’t want her back here,” my mother says. Her voice is shaky, as if she’s about to cry. She whips a dirty plate into the sink. It shatters. “I’m not stupid! I know what’s going on.”
“Okay, so you caught me,” he shrugs and looks at the floor.
My mother chokes, “that’s just great!” She snatches her purse off the counter, “you’re not leaving me with this mess.” She motions towards me and slams the door on her way out.
My father picks up the phone. “I told her. Come and get me?”
He’s going through the drawers in his room, throwing things into his suitcase when I hear someone pull up and honk. I go to the window. That woman is sitting in the driver’s seat of a car with no roof. Her hair swirls in the breeze, as if they are already driving away.
I want to say something, but I don’t exist anymore.
He runs out and kisses the woman on the lips.
She waves to me as they pull away. My father looks straight ahead.
*If you would like to read the entire series, begin with The Long Dirt Road
**some names have been changed to protect privacy
My mother huffed a puff of air from the corner of her mouth as she fished a week’s worth of mail out our box in town. A few strands of overgrown hair scattered up and away from her eyes. “Thank God! The catalogs are in,” she sang with relief, as she sifted through the pile. She tossed two thick, glossy books onto the table, where they landed with a thud. She set the rest of the stack on the counter for my dad. “You guys can bring them up to camp and pick out your clothes for the year,” she stated with satisfaction.
I felt like throwing up. My entire body filled with dread as I dared a glance. The Sears and JC Penny’s catalogs lay there, taunting me. Any excitement I felt about the prospect of new clothes was squashed by the reason I needed them… School!
“Only two weeks left! I want your list no later than Friday,” she added, as she descended into the basement to finish the laundry before it was time to head back up to camp for our last weeks of summer.
My lip curled in disappointment and disgust. Only two weeks of summer left! It couldn’t be over already! No more fishing, or swimming, or frog catching! We’d be closing camp for the season and moving back to town! That thought pained me in ways I can’t describe. My life was over!
I sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs and shoved the catalogs away. I didn’t want them in my sight.
“Mom, can I have Andrea up?” I asked, brightening a little with hope. I was grasping for anything that would take my mind off from the impending doom.
“Absolutely not! We have a lot of stuff to do at camp to get it ready for winter, and we’re not coming back into town next week. I want you girls to clean up that wood and all those nails out at the colony. Then, I want you to go through those games on the porch and put the pieces back where they belong and then…”
“Oh geez, that’s right! I gotta hurry up and get stuff done.” My dad breezed in and took the laundry basket from my mother. “I gotta get that wood chopped and stacked. I’m gonna need some help.” He gave my sister and I a meaningful look.
Just shoot me…
That week, most of my friends would be driving an hour to the mall in Bangor. They’d go in groups with their parents, shop in cool stores, eat lunch in neat restaurants, and maybe even go to the movies after, but the fact that they were having fun and I wouldn’t be, wasn’t what was bothered me.
In our family, we always shopped by mail order. My mother hated driving and hated department stores even more. We’d learned to accept that long ago. I didn’t really mind because it meant I got to stay at camp longer.
No, the problem was that my sister and one of the boys that lived next to us at camp had been telling me a thing or two about seventh grade all summer, and I didn’t like what I’d heard. I’d been getting more nervous about it as time wore on.
“Who’d you get for home room?” my sister had asked that last day of sixth grade, when I’d come home with the packet from the office. She jumped up and down over my shoulder as I read, so she could see too.
I flipped it over and held it to my chest. “None of your business, Miss Nosey,” I said.
She ran over to the back door and stuck her head out. “Mom! Kristy won’t let me see who she got next year! Make her tell me!” she wailed. My mother was busy packing the truck, so my sister came back in and tried to snatch the notice away from me.
“Oh for heaven’s sake. What’s the big deal?” my mother said, hustling back in for more boxes. “Just tell her.”
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “I got Mrs. McDermott. Who’d you get?”
“Ha!” A wicked grin spread over my sister’s freckled face. “Mrs. McDermott?! Ha ha! She’s mean! She hits kids and everything. You’re going to hate her. Everyone does.”
“Oh stop that!” my mother protested. “She’s a very nice lady.”
“You wouldn’t know,” my sister sassed. “Last year she threw a chair at a kid for talking in class.”
“That’s not true, and you know it! You’d better stop that! You’re going to scare your sister to death!”
“It is too true. Rebecca told me.” She stuck her tongue out and sneered when my mother turned away.
A nervous feeling pitted in my gut. I’d heard the rumors too, but I didn’t pay much attention because it didn’t have anything to do with me at the time. Now, it seemed it would. However, seventh grade was months away. I tried to forget about it as I soldiered forth into the long summer ahead. Unfortunately, my sister had other plans.
“Hey guess what?” she laughed, running over to the greet the boys next door as soon as we got to camp. “Kristy got Mrs. McDermott for home room next year. And she has her for History too. She’s going to hate her, isn’t she?” She raised her eyebrows knowingly.
Shane whistled through his teeth. “Geez. Good luck.” He shook his head. “She’s tough! I heard no one passes her class. She yells at kids and last year she made someone cry.”
She turned to me and smirked. “See? I told you.”
It was like that all summer. Not just with Mrs. McDermott, but the other teachers on my list were picked apart and analyzed for their worst qualities.
Now, there I sat with just two weeks left. I was a mess!
“Shake it up in there! Let’s get a move on!” My dad bellowed impatiently from the truck outside.
I sighed and started for the door.
“Don’t forget the catalogs!” my mother called.
My sister rushed ahead of me and scooped them off the table. “I’m looking first.”
“Good.” I pouted.
We climbed into our truck and started on our final journey to camp that year.
Time is something that can either be a friend or a foe, and as I arrived back at camp for my last two weeks of summer vacation, I felt it snaking around my neck and tightening into a noose. It was my enemy, and I cursed it as much as a kid my age dared.
At the beginning of the summer, there was so much time, I had plenty to waste. It stretched further than I could see, and held months of mysteries and possibilities. School and Mrs. McDermott had been far into my future, but now it was almost here.
I stomped down to the lake, found the biggest and clunkiest rock I could find, and hurled it into the water.
“Stupid school,” I said, scowling into the ripples I’d made.
My dad saw and heard me. “What in the name of jeeslum is the matter with you?”
I didn’t turn around.
“She’s being a big baby cause summer’s almost over and she’s gotta go to school soon.” My sneered.
My dad shook his head. “Are you going to pout the whole rest of the GD summer?”
“Maybe,” I glowered.
“Well, it seems to me like that’ll be an awful waste. Why don’t you go fishing? Who knows? There might just be a trout out there on a day like this.” He winked.
I started up the pine dock, slowly, with my head down. I didn’t want to let on that his suggestion had brightened my mood in the slightest.
My mother cut in, “Oh no she doesn’t. She’s going to get in here and help with some of this stuff.” She heaved a plastic tote off the ground and started up the stairs.
I sighed heavily and started back down.
“Let the kid fish, Jo.” It wasn’t a question. My dad had spoken and I loved him for it. He knew what I needed.
“Fine,” she huffed. “One hour and then I want you in here.” She let the screened door slam behind her.
I ran the rest of the way up the dock and sat down in my special place on the big gray rock.
You can work out a lot of problems in your head while holding a fishing pole, and after a few minutes, I’d thought of a couple of things that made me feel a little better…sick days, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas vacation… If I planned it right, I might not have to spend that much time in school after all!
I smiled and cast out again. My bobber landed with a plop on the wavy surface, dipped out of sight for just a second, then popped back up.
I looked out over the landscape. The trees on the far shore were changing. Yellows and reds were a contrast to the dark green pines. My heart squeezed. Time really was growing late. I would miss camp over the months ahead. It was my place. I was safe there, but brave. I was a woodsman and a builder. I was a trail blazer and a fisherman. I was a hiker and a frog hunter. I was anything I wanted to be.
I would miss the sound of the loons calling at night and the waves crashing against the shore. I would miss the pine soft ground under my bare feet and the smell of the boggy water.
The breeze blowing off the lake was chilly and persistent. I zipped up my sweatshirt and shivered slightly. From then forward, the cool wind would be a daily reminder of the changes to come and wouldn’t let up much.
That time of year my dad called them ‘the winds of change.’
“You know why it’s so damn cold dontcha?” he’d ask. “Cause that wind is coming straight down from Canada. Yup, they’re sending us winter, that’s for sure.”
I didn’t much care for Canada after I’d heard that, but as I sat there, the wind ruffled my hair, tickled my cheek, and helped to dry the tears I didn’t want my dad to see.
My sister stuck her head out of the front door. “Mom says you have to get in here and now,” she smirked.
I rolled my eyes, set my pole down, and got up. A flock of geese flew overhead, honking and flapping, bound for someplace warmer. To a place where they could extend their summer by weeks. I wanted to go with them.
I went inside and washed my hands.
My sister thrust the catalogs my way as I was drying off. “Mom said you should pick out your school clothes. I already did mine.” She grinned proudly and added, “If I were you, I’d pick something besides jeans and T-shirts. I heard Mrs. McDermott always makes favorites out of the kids who dress nice.”
Really, just kill me…
Those two weeks went fast, just like I thought they would. I visited all my favorite places at least a dozen times and said goodbye to the frogs and chipmunks. I walked the length of our cove’s shoreline with the kids next door and lost a shoe in the mud. I helped stack wood, and clean up the colony.
I managed to pick out my clothes, too. All nice things. No T-shirts or anything. I was going to need all the help I could get.
The last day at camp, my chest felt tight as we gathered up our things and packed them into the truck. My nerves were jangled as I thought of the coming week and Mrs. McDermott and school.
I slumped down to the shore and gazed out at my lake and mountain one last time. It was quiet and still for the first time in a while. I wanted to capture that moment and those sights and hold onto them for as long as I could. Maybe it would help sustain me through the rough times ahead. Nine months was a long time to miss something I loved so much.
Tears stung my eyes as I whispered my goodbyes. “I’ll be back,” I said. My heart was heavy as I turned my back and walked away.
“Let’s shake a leg!” my dad bellowed. He shut the door, secured the padlock, and hustled into the truck. “I wanna get home! I’ve gotta go and I might as well do it where I can flush.”
Oh dad..
On a side note:
Mrs. McDermott turned out to be tough, but fair. She was not half as bad as my sister and Shane told me, so I worried all that time for nothing! In the end, I think I may have been her favorite. Perhaps it was because of my purple velvet jacket and ruffled white shirt?
I think back to those years at camp as some of the best in my life.
The camp was sold a few years back, and it broke my heart. I never had the chance to say goodbye, but at least I will always have the experiences and moments I shared there, if only in my memories.
