Page 29 of Dreams of Falling
“She said she wanted to find any insurance records from 1954, which is when the house burned. Mostly who the beneficiary was. My granddaddy owned the agency then, and I remember him saying that his office and all the records were a total loss because of all the hurricane flooding from Hazel.” He took another stab at his yogurt. “She seemed real disappointed, like she was figuring out some big puzzle, and just as she got near the end, she realized there were some pieces missing.”
I pushed my cup of half-eaten yogurt away, eager now to go home and speak with Ceecee. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m pretty exhausted—worrying about my mother, mostly. Would you mind if we head back now?”
“Of course not—I understand. I’d be worried sick, too, if it were my mother.” He stood and picked up our trash, depositing it all in a nearby can before pulling out my chair.
“Thanks, Gabriel,” I said as I walked by the owner as he was placing three big scoops of ice cream into a banana split boat.
“You come back soon,” he said, his eyes sliding to Jackson’s back. “So we can have a chat.”
“Will do,” I said with a wave before following Jackson, who was holding the door open for me.
His car was parked on the street in front of Ceecee’s house, but he insisted on walking me to the door. The outdoor lights were on, creating as much light as deep shadows on the front porch. I felt Jackson looking at me, but the light stopped at his neck so that his entire face was in shadow. I felt a small chill shudder down my spine as I wondered what the symbolism would be if this were a dream.
“I had a nice time catching up,” he said, and I heard the smile in his voice.
“Me, too.” I shifted my feet, the sense of déjà vu almost overwhelming, and I wanted to ask if he remembered, too. But the memory was nestled like a silk dress between gum tree seedballs, prickling and tearing at the fabric, and I had no idea how to retrieve the dress without ruining it. So I left it where it was and smiled up at Jackson.
“I’ll call you about maybe going out on my boat this weekend. Or dinner sometime. Even if your mama wakes up soon, I hope you can stay a little longer so we can get to know each other again.”
For the first time in years, I wished Mabry were there as a witness. Or that I knew her phone number so I could call her and tell her that Jackson Porter just said he wanted to get to know me better. Then again, maybe I didn’t. Because I wasn’t exactly sure she’d be so happy for me.
“I probably won’t still be here this weekend, but let me give you my number...”
“Ceecee already gave it to me. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. I’m usually at the hospital or here, so it’s easy to reach me.”
“Good.” He leaned toward me, and I didn’t move, not sure what I should do. He kissed me softly on the cheek, his lips warm and lingering, and I felt an odd sense of relief. “Good night, Larkin.”
“Good night, Jackson,” I said. I watched as he walked back to his car. I still felt his kiss on my skin and smelled the lingering scent of his cologne, which made me remember things I wished I could forget.
twelve
Ceecee
2010
Ceecee walked around the parlor, unnecessarily rearranging frames and her collection of Limoges boxes and other trinkets while listening to the ticking of the hall clock. She heard Bitty coughing upstairs, then smelled cigarette smoke, even though she’d told Bitty more than once that she wasn’t allowed to smoke in the house.
Ceecee had already washed her face and put on her cold cream and pinned her hair, but she couldn’t go to sleep until she knew where Mack was and that Larkin had come home. She’d called Mack’s cell phone twice already, knowing that visiting hours at the hospital had ended long before, but he hadn’t returned her calls. Gritting her teeth, she picked up a silver-framed photo of Ivy and Mack on their wedding day, then rubbed it against her housecoat to remove any flecks of imaginary dust. She had better not find out he was withthat woman, not while Ivy was in the hospital. Not while Larkin was home. It would be beyond the pale.
Ceecee replaced the photo and picked up another from the mantel, this one taken on her own wedding day. There was Bitty, wearing the bright red dress she’d chosen herself, but which was simply another shade of gray in the black-and-white photo. She looked young and pretty withher wide-brimmed hat, and Ivy, too, wearing a soft yellow dress as befitted a flower girl. Ivy and the groom wore similar expressions of surprise, as if neither one could imagine how they’d gotten there.
Ceecee adjusted her glasses, bringing the photo closer to her face and examining the smudge behind her ivory-silk shoulder. She’d always thought it was a fingerprint the photographer had missed on the camera lens. It was Bitty who’d pointed out that the smudge hadn’t appeared on any of the other photos from the wedding, and that it must have been Margaret’s ghost, letting them know she was there. Whenever Ceecee looked at the picture, she stared at the blurry mark, imagining sometimes that she saw a face and at other times just a fingerprint.
Carefully, she replaced the frame on the mantel, smelling old smoke and ashes from the fireplace. She couldn’t recall whether she’d had the fireplaces cleaned in the last year. It bothered her that she couldn’t remember the little things anymore—which was why she now wrote everything down. Bitty said that as long as she remembered the big things, she had nothing to worry about. The ashy scent was particularly strong tonight, and she wondered if the wind might be strong outside, blowing through the old mortar. She hoped that was the reason for her dreams of the past few nights, dreams of this very house engulfed in flames, the fire slowly climbing the stairs to the room where she slept.
Ceecee was on the way to the kitchen and her calendar to make a note to call the chimney cleaner tomorrow when she heard another heavy cough from upstairs at the same time the front door opened. After directing a frown upstairs, she moved to the foyer and found Larkin with her back to Ceecee, staring at the closed front door.
“Is everything all right?”
Another cough from Bitty brought their attention to the stairs. Ignoring her question, Larkin asked, “Has she seen a doctor about that cough?”
“I don’t know.” Ceecee’s answer embarrassed her, made her feel ashamed that she didn’t know. “She’s a grown woman, so I suppose she has.” She watched as Larkin’s worried expression turned into a slight frown. “I’ll ask her tomorrow. We both know how stubborn Bitty canbe.” She said it with a smile and was pleased when Larkin looked relieved.
“How did it go tonight?” she asked. Ceecee looked for any lessening of the tightness around Larkin’s eyes, the hollowness in her cheeks, and the slight dip of her head that hadn’t been there when she was a child and seemed to get worse every visit home. It made Ceecee think of the chameleons she’d once seen at a zoo, how they changed their colors to match their surroundings. She wondered if Larkin was doing that on purpose, trying to fit in in New York. Or maybe she was trying to disguise herself enough that no one who’d known her before would recognize her now. Which was silly, really. Larkin was perfect in every way, and had always been. She had no reason to hide. Maybe it was simply the stress over her father and now her mother.
“It was fine.” Larkin didn’t move toward the stairs, but instead stood looking at Ceecee, her eyes now angry. “We need to talk.”
