Beyond the Quiet

Chapter 1

The sharp buzz of the doorbell jarred me awake. Ignoring the intrusion, I rolled over to face the back of the sofa and tried to go back to sleep. I didnt want to see anyone and I certainly didnt want anyone to see me.

The grandfather clock struck three, and I knew from the glow of sunlight through the closed satin drapes that it was afternoon.

Someone jabbed the bell again and again in quick succession. Damn. Stan and Maggie must be back from their vacation, wanting to pester me again about food. Id assured them Id eat and I hadif you could call an occasional stale slice of bread or a piece of cheese eating.
Closing my eyes, I willed them to go away.

Then the pounding began, loud, heavy, hammering pounds that would surely splinter the wood door. Annoyed, I sat up on the sofa, my robe bunched above my knees.

Open up, Mom! Its me!

Shanna! What was she doing here? She wasnt supposed to be here until...when? Oh God, I couldnt remember. I didnt even know what today was. Somehow the days seemed to slide into one another and I couldnt keep up.

I know youre in there, Mom, she called, still pounding on the door and ringing the buzzer. Open up or Ill call the police!

I bolted off the sofa and rushed to the door.

Even behind large amber sunglasses, my daughter looked exasperated. For her flight, she wore a short sleeve pullover with gabardine trousers and had Kyle, my nine-month-old grandson, in one of those harness things with wide blue straps secured over her shoulder and around her slender hips. A diaper bag and suitcase sat at her feet, and behind her, I could see a green and white taxi backing out of the drive.

Dont you ever answer your phone? Shanna picked up her suitcase and barreled past me, her straight blonde hair bouncing from her shoulders. Why didnt you meet me at the airport? I waited over an hour.

Barefoot, I dragged the diaper bag into the living room and stood, barely able to look at her. I knew I looked a mess. I was a mess.
Im sorry, honey. I just

Never mind. I got here. She put Kyle on the floor, handed him his purple dinosaur, and took off the harness. Then her critical gaze turned to me, raking my faded wrinkled robe and the greasy strings of graying hair hanging in my eyes.

I cringed, wondering how long it had been since Id bathed. If only I could remember, but my thoughts were fuzzy, as if Id been on a month-long drunk.

You look terrible, she said, giving me a peck on the cheek. This isnt like you. Are you sick? Maybe we should get you to a doctor. That was Shanna, all efficiency. I longed for some comfort, for some glimmer of understanding.

Im okay. Just... I shrugged and dropped to the floor beside Kyle. It had been a month since Id seen him, a month since Macs funeral. Babies change so quickly at that age.

He smiled and jabbered to me, his big blue eyes watching every move I made. His hair, the same coppery shade as his fathers, shone like silk even after the long flight. I gathered him into my arms and held him close, breathing in the fresh scent of baby powder. He didnt seem to mind that I looked like a bag lady and probably smelled like one as well.

I miss Dad too, Mom, Shanna said. Her eyes were a rich coppery brown, speckled with gold flecks like her fathers. I had my mothers eyes, gray with thick black lashes. Waifs eyes, Ive been told, large and sad. The only thing Shanna inherited from me was my petite build.
I can only stay a week, she continued, dropping her purse beside the diaper bag, then I need to get back to work. You have to pull yourself together.

Pull myself together. Sure. As if I could do that at her command. Id cared for her father day and night for over a year, helplessly watching him deteriorate a little more each day from the proud, self-sufficient man whod routinely tracked elk over the Sierra Nevada mountains to someone who couldnt take a breath without his oxygen tank. Didnt she realize his illness and death had affected me as well? I felt drained of all energy, void of any feeling, overwhelmed with a lingering malaise that hadnt eased.

But since shed made the trip from Minneapolis to help me sort her fathers things, Id better do something. At least get dressed. That would be a startif only I could work up enough energy to get off the floor.

Its beautiful outside, Shanna said brightly. Well let some of that Southern California sunshine in. She pulled the drapes open all the way, spotlighting the cluster of dirty glasses and cups on the coffee table, the layers of dust on the furniture. I wanted to sink into the floor just like the Wicked Witch of the West. She opened some windows.

Some fresh air wouldnt hurt.

Finally getting to my feet, I mumbled, Ill get some clothes on, and headed for the bathroom.

Take a shower while youre at it, she called after me.

Stepping out of the shower minutes later, I heard the clink of dishes and silverware from the kitchen and knew my daughter was cleaning up. Shame rippled through me. All the time she was growing up Id stressed cleanliness and efficiency, and now I could imagine how the kitchen looked. Except for making coffee, getting a Diet Coke or zapping a couple of frozen dinners in the microwave last week, at least I think it was last week, I hadnt been in there long enough to do anything since the last person left after the funeral reception. My fridge had been stuffed with covered dishes, but they hadnt looked appetizing, so I think I opened a can of something, soup perhaps, and ate from the can. Had I thrown it away? I couldnt remember.

I wished I felt differently, wished I could just put the last year into the past and go forward, wished I felt like dressing each day. But it was simply too much trouble. I hadnt even been able to read, something Id enjoyed since I was a child. A stack of novels leaned toward the sofa, still untouched. Oh Id tried, but a book was too heavy to hold, so I sat in front of the TV, staring at the screen day after day and well into the next morning.

Maybe I was sick. But I had to get it together, at least while Shanna was here. Maybe her visit would energize me enough to get some things done. I hadnt even looked at my checkbook since paying the bills the month before Mac died. Thank God for Stan, Macs older brother and executor of his will. Hed taken care of all the funeral arrangements and had made sure everything was running as it should before he and his wife, Maggie, left on a well-deserved vacation.

Just as I slipped into my comfortable cotton pants and pullover, Shanna cracked open the bathroom door.

Mom, really, theres no food except some moldy stuff in some casserole dishes. They cant be from the funeral, can they?

Why did she always sound so critical when she spoke to me? It had been the same for years, that brisk, detached tone that always seemed to hold a slight patronizing edge. Shanna, my precious daughter, the one person on earth who, for a short time, had truly been mine. How Id rejoiced when she was born. Finally I had someone who would love me unconditionally, as I would love her.

When, exactly, had it changed?

Well, we have to get some groceries in here, she said. Can you watch Kyle long enough for me to run to the market? She studied me, her gaze assessing, I was sure, whether or not I was capable of taking care of my grandson.

I thought of another time shed watched me, a lifetime ago when shed been a toddler. Id get ready for work at the real estate office and shed sit beside me on the bench in front of my antique dressing table, her legs dangling, eyes fixed on me as I applied makeup and selected my jewelry for the day. Id always pat some powder on the tip of her upturned nose and sometimes place a string of sparkly, iridescent beads around her neck. Shed laugh in delight, then silently watch as I applied my lipstick, puckering her lips, waiting for me to dab the same color to her own. To look just like Mommy, shed said. It was our ritual, something wed both loved.
But our relationship changed. Over the years shed adopted a new attitude toward me, an air of amusement, slightly critical, very patronizing. I couldnt point to a single incident and say thats what happened, or thats when I lost her. Instead, shed gradually abandoned my arms for her daddys, running to him on short, slender legs when she hurt herself. Shed sit contentedly on his lap, all cuts and scrapes forgotten as hed soothe her with stories of long-ago castles peopled with brave knights and fairy princesses. Id listen, thankful she had such a loving father, ashamed of the sting I felt because she no longer ran to me.

As she grew up, shed say, Oh Mother, really, in that tone of hers whenever I tried to talk to her.

Shell grow out of it, Mac had said, shrugging it off. Be grateful shes not out doing drugs.

Of course Id been grateful, but I longed for my daughter.

Even after she married Leif and moved to Minneapolis, her tone of voice didnt change. I could hear the slight condescending edge even on the phone.

Id talked to her less and less, only calling when I felt in a light mood or when I could force myself to sound as if everything was just fine, pretending I didnt notice the distance between us.

Why had I allowed it? Why hadnt I demanded an explanation, an end to the reserve? I should have.

I had to admit I didnt know how. Id learned in childhood to avoid confrontations, to mask any emotions Id felt, and when Shanna grew away from me, Id felt at a loss.

Now, watching me, she must have decided I was trustworthy, at least long enough to make a trip to the market, because she left Kyle with me.

Hows my little sweetheart? I picked him up and hugged him, burrowing my nose in a soft spot on his neck right under his chin. I kissed him again and again and he giggled and drooled on my cheek, then wrapped his chubby arms around my neck. For the first time in months, I felt a ray of happiness.

Id forgotten how liberating babies could be. They never criticized or judged, and with them, I could relax and free the other side of me, the lighter-spirited one I carefully kept in check.

I wished I could be that free again with my daughter.

A couple of weeks after the funeral, after everyone had gone back to his or her own lives, I must have been dozing because I opened my eyes and found myself on the sofa, the house dark and the TV on some inane comedy. My stomach was rumbling so I padded to the kitchen and took a fork to one of the leftover dishes. I didnt know what I was eating and didnt care. After about three bites, I pushed the dish back into the fridge and dropped the fork into the sink along with other dirty silverware, saucers, and cups.

I desperately longed to talk to my daughter. She had to be hurting as well, and I thought we could comfort each other. But when I picked up the phone, I hesitated, too exhausted to brace myself for her patronizing tone of voice. When she called to let me know she could take some time from her job at the telephone company. I felt tornhappy at the chance to see her again, unsure if I could keep up the pretense of the competent widow I knew she expected me to be. Now, after such a dreadful start, I just hoped we could get through the week without further discord.

Over the next few days I wore the invisible mask, bathing and dressing like a normal person, able to function by pretending I was playing the role of a capable widow, and when I felt as if I couldnt continue one minute more, Id go to Kyle and play with him. That always made me feel better. And to my surprise, each day became a little easier.

Shanna and I cooperated in a silent agreement as we sorted Macs possessions, and we got along much better than wed had in years. The sorting took longer than wed expected, as so many items triggered fond memories. We laughed over a joke trophy for worst shot that Stan and Maggie gave Mac after an elk-hunting trip in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and cried at the collection of greeting cards Mac had received over the years. I intended to go through them later, but for now, I couldnt part with them. Clothes and other possessions I could let go, but the cards were special, small mementos of a lifetime that had passed away.

Oh, Mom, itll be okay. Shanna put her arms around me, something she hadnt done in years. I was so surprised that it took me a moment to return the gesture. Ive been thinking, she continued. Why not move to Minnesota and live with us. You could take care of Kyle, and wed pay you just like daycare. You could even take the flight with Kyle and me tomorrow.

I blinked. Move to Minnesota? When Shanna and Leif married three years ago, Leif transferred to his hometown near Minneapolis. I hated to think my grandchildren would grow up so far away, so I talked to Mac about moving there, but hed said he didnt want to live in such a cold climate. Now I had nothing to keep me in Californiaexcept memories. Did I want to cut all ties to our lifetime together?
Kyle woke from his nap, and, clutching the wooden rails in his playpen, he pulled himself up to peek at me.

Ill get him, I said, putting down the cards Id been holding. When Kyle saw me coming, he squealed and jumped up and down.

Hes got your number, Mom, Shanna said with a wry smile.

When I picked him up, I thought about how wonderful it would be to live near him, to watch him grow. And I could get to know my daughter again and show her how much I loved her.

Moving is a great idea, honey, but itll take some time. So many things to think of, so many things to do before I could make such a major move.

Why wait, Mom? Stan can handle everything. If you came home with me, it would really help.

I have to get things settled. Settled...what a strange word. Burying the past and changing the future.

Something flashed in Shannas eyes. Her quick temper? Wounded feelings? I could no longer read my daughters moods; shed grown too far away.

The rest of the day I thought of nothing but making the move. I got out my checkbook and went over my finances, sipping coffee, forcing an attention to details that Id neglected the past couple of months. I could sell the condo, and even after paying the bills, that money, together with Macs insurance, should tide me over until I was able to obtain my real estate license in Minneapolis. If I were careful, I should even have enough to live on until the commissions came in.
But I had to make sure. With travel agencies on the downswing, Leifs future was at risk, and I didnt want to be a financial burden to my daughter and her family.

I contacted Ben, my boss at the real estate office in Redlands, and told him I wanted to come back to work as soon as possible. I might as well earn some money while I waited for things to get settled.
I scheduled an open house for a new listing tomorrow afternoon after Shannas flight. Ben thought it might be too soon, but I was afraid that, unless I went back to work, Id come home from the airport, slip back into my robe, and wouldnt get out of it again.

The next day, after dressing and even applying makeup before going to the airport, I sorted the mail, dropping the sympathy cards into an unopened pile. If I were to get on with my life, I couldnt handle one more flowery card.

An innocent-looking envelope addressed to Mac was stuck between a credit card solicitation and a weekend pizza special. Closing my eyes, I ran my fingers over his neatly-printed name, pretending, for just a moment, he was there to read it.

You okay, Mom? Shanna asked, packing Kyles diaper bag for their plane trip home.

Her voice snapped me out of my reverie. Sure, honey. Im fine, I replied in a brisk tone.

Inside the envelope was a post office form, a reminder to Mac that his box number 1263 was due for a years renewal.

We didnt have a post office box. Living in Yucaipa, a Southern California community in the foothills below Big Bear, our mail came directly to the house. It had to be a mistake, some sort of computer error. Since Macs death, Id received tons of solicitations and official-looking documents that amounted to nothing.

Strange, though. Solicitations were always addressed to Ronald Montgomery, the legal name Mac had used for documents and purchases. Hed only scribbled his nickname, foisted on him as a child because of his love for Big Macs, for renting movies or personal things. Which made me consider that he must have, indeed, signed for the box.
But why? Why on earth would he need a mailbox away from home?