Sightings
Chapter Seventeen
Sam walked in his front door and was met by one of the reasons he wanted to move to the house on the river. Russ, in his bathrobe, was lying on the sofa watching TV.
“What are you doing here?” Sam asked. “Why aren’t you working?”
“I got fired.”
Sam sagged, sighed, then took his overnight bag to his bedroom. Returning, he sat in a chair facing him. “How about turning off the TV and telling me what happened?”
Russ obliged, then leaned back on the pillow and said, “I went to work yesterday morning and the boss called me into his office.” For someone who’d just gotten fired, Sam thought, he’s pretty unconcerned. His son continued. “He said the big job they were hoping to get for October fell through and he was going to have to lay off part of his crew. I’m one of ‘em.”
“Did he say why he picked you? If it’s because you’ve been out on sick leave, I don’t think he can do that legally.”
“He said I was one of the least experienced people, which is bull shit. I’ve been working with him for years. I think he just wants to get rid of me. I told him I wouldn’t be missing work anymore, but he said that wasn’t it. Said I didn’t know as much as the guys he was keeping.”
“Comes at a bad time, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe, maybe not. When I go in for the divorce hearing they’ll have a hard time getting alimony if I’m not working.”
“It doesn’t work that way.” Sam shook his head, discouraged. Will he ever grow up? he asked himself. Then aloud, “Apart from getting fired, how are you feeling?”
“Not bad.” He sounded happy not to be working. “Good enough to help you get the things in shape for your open house.”
“What open house?”
“Your real estate lady was by. She wants to have an open house this weekend. There’s a list on the mantel. Stuff she wants done to the house.”
Sam picked it up and read:
1. Cut and remove shrubs that block front windows.
2. House is cluttered. Get rid of some furniture.
3. Repair plaster in kitchen where upstairs bath leaked.
4. Touch up paint on doors and door jams. Wash finger marks.
5. Weed driveway. Get rid of crabgrass.
6. Wash windows and sweep cobwebs from screens.
7. Get carpet cleaned.
“Christ!” Sam exclaimed. “This’ll take a month.”
“I know a good unemployed laborer who’ll work for food,” Russ said.
When Kathleen and Cynthia, accompanied by Claude, arrived that evening, the two daughters remarked how nice the house looked with those ugly pine shrubs gone. “You can see the front windows.” Cynthia said. And Kathleen added, “It’s like I remember it when I was a little girl.”
“Yeah — well, it took us all afternoon,” Sam moaned, “cutting and hauling to the dump.” His back was stiff from bending and lifting, and he was worn out. “I hope you’ll all be satisfied with pizza tonight, because that’s the fare.”
Russ took drink orders and they all settled in the living room.
“I’ve asked you to come by because I’ve got something important to tell you.”
Cynthia grinned and in a sing-song voice said, “I know what it ee-uss,”
“Sorry Pop,” Kathleen added, “she spilled the beans. So, tell us about Beverly Arms.”
Sam stared at her, bewildered. “Beverly Arms? I wouldn’t be caught dead in that place!”
Cynthia’s eyes widened. Her mouth fell open. Claude spilled his drink. Kathleen looked surprised, but amused. Russ laughed out loud.
“But you put your house on the market,” Cynthia said. “We went up there. You saw all the things they can do for you.”
Sam spoke calmly but firmly. “Cynthia, please be quiet. I’m never going to Beverly Arms, and what I’m going to tell you has nothing to do with that place.” He moved his eyes from one to the other until he had their full attention. “I’m going to talk for a while and I don’t want you to interrupt until you’ve heard the whole story.” He waited until they appeared to concur, then he began.
“I have reason to believe your mother may still be alive.”
Kathleen’s initial shock quickly turned to concern. Russ, who had picked up a magazine, didn’t appear to hear his father. And Cynthia, sighing disapprovingly, said, “Dad, are you talking to Sarah again?”
“God damn it, Cynthia, be quiet. I don’t do that anymore and it’s embarrassing that I ever did. So please be quiet and listen.” She sank into the sofa. Claude was less subdued. Smiling, he patted his wife’s leg reassuringly, apparently satisfied that Sam’s senility was finally revealing itself.
Sam ignored them and went on. “Several things have happened to bring me to this conclusion. Separately none is conclusive, but taken together they make a strong case that your mother didn’t die two years ago. I’m going to tell you what has happened and you can judge for yourself.” He had their polite attention, even Russ who had closed the magazine, but it was clear not one of them was taking him seriously.
“The day after my hernia operation, I was lying on the sofa, resting. It was pouring rain outside and I saw a woman standing in the rain, staring at our house. Then she brushed her cheek, you remember, just like Sarah used to do.”
“That’s it?” Kathleen said. “She could have been anybody.” The others seemed to agree with her.
“I know, and if that was all, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you. Okay, let’s jump ahead. We were all at the Horribles parade on the Fourth. Remember, Kathleen, when you were standing beside me? Well, across the street I saw the same woman. She was watching me. The way she stood and the way she cocked her head, she looked exactly like Sarah.”
“I remember you were crying,” she said condescendingly, “but I didn’t notice any woman.”
“I didn’t tell you about her, but she was there. Then when I dried my eyes, she was gone.”
Sam stopped a moment to examined their reactions. Russ looked embarrassed for him, Kathleen sad, and Cynthia concerned.
Claude tried to lighten the atmosphere by laughing, “You’re reaching for it, Sam.”
But Sam remained serious. “I would be if the second thing hadn’t happened. That night at the fireworks I saw her again on the other side of the quay. By the time I’d crossed through the crowd, she was gone. Out of the thousands of places that woman could have chosen to watch the parade and the fireworks, the chances of her being in the two spots where our family always stood are pretty slim.”
“But it could have been a coincidence,” Kathleen said.
“I know. Like I said, none of these things is conclusive in itself.” He could see he had a long way to go.
“Sam,” Claude said disparagingly, “you’re letting your imagination run away with you.” Then to the others, “It’s not helping your dad for us to sit here and encourage him by listening.”
“Be quiet, Claude,” his wife snapped. “Go ahead, Dad.”
“I’ve got a question,” Kathleen said. “I’m not doubting what you’ve said and seen, but if Mom is alive why would she be doing these things? Why not just walk through that door and show herself?”
All eyes turned toward the door. Cynthia shivered.
“I don’t know,” Sam said, “I’ve asked myself the same question.”
“Come on, Dad.” It was Russ. “Mom wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t just up and run away.”
“He’s right,” Kathleen agreed. Cynthia was nodding her assent.
“Maybe she wanted to be on her own for a while,” Sam said. “Maybe she was tired of me, of all of us. And now, maybe she regrets what she did and wants to come home.”
“Hell!” Russ reacted, “no respectable woman would run out on her kids like that.”
“See?” Sam said, “That’s why she’d be afraid to come back. She’d think we’d be mad at her.”
Kathleen was shaking her head. “Mom wouldn’t have done that to us. She knew I was going through a hard time. She wouldn’t have run out on me.”
“That’s right,” Cynthia said, upset. “She wouldn’t have run out on her new granddaughters.”
Kathleen looked at her dad with profound sadness. “Dad, please let all this go.”
“There’s more. Last Sunday I went to a dog show with Annie and I bought her a book about Newfoundlands.” At the mention of Annie, Cynthia raised her eyes to the ceiling and sighed disgustedly. Sam went to the study and brought out the large book and the file of the photos Sarah had taken at Annie’s house. He handed the book to Kathleen. She and Cynthia looked at it together. Then he gave them the pictures.
To Kathleen he said, “Look at the pictures in the book and then at the ones taken by your mother.” They did, turning several pages while looking at the stack of ten or twelve photos.
“They’re not the same pictures,” Cynthia said, “but I can see the style is much the same.”
“Now open to the title page.” They did. “See the author’s name?”
“Susan Lang,” Cynthia read it aloud.
“The same initials,” Kathleen conceded.
Claude began to glance at the book over Cynthia’s shoulder.
“Now turn to the publisher’s page.” Kathleen flipped to the beginning of the book. “See the publication date?” Sam said. “Last year. Now turn to the dedication page.”
Kathleen did. “To Sam, forever,” Cynthia read.
“Ohmygod!” Kathleen erupted.
“The same words,” Sam said, “that your mother wrote on the birthday and anniversary cards she gave me.”
“Sam,” Claude said, “you’re pushing it. These are just more coincidences.”
The others were quiet for several seconds, then Kathleen, shaking her head, said, “She wouldn’t do this to us.”
Cynthia glared at her father. “Why are you doing this?” She began to cry. “You’re torturing yourself, and it’s not fair to us.”
“Good arguments,” Russ said. “If it wasn’t Mom you’re talking about, I might believe you.”
Claude was growing restless, “Sam, this is all conjecture, and it’s totally unlike Sarah’s character. I’m sorry, but you’re day dreaming.”
The group, nodding slowly, fell silent and Claude smiled at having acquired their allegiance.
“There’s one other thing I haven’t told you,” Sam said reluctantly. “I talked to the president of our bank and learned that a little over two years ago, Sarah withdrew a considerable amount of money from her personal account. I knew nothing about this at the time, nor do I know now what she did with it. But it could mean that she was thinking of moving out on her own, maybe . . separating from me. I thought everything was all right between us, but maybe not. It also means that she would have had resources to support herself during the past two years.”
Kathleen glared at her father, her face becoming flush. “I don’t want to hear about your problems with Mom. If you’re mad at her for something that happened, keep it to yourself.”
“So,” Claude said, “she squirreled away a lot of money and didn’t leave it to you. Is that what’s bothering you?”
The room was quiet. Sam, more hurt than angry, addressed Claude. “That’s a hateful thing to say.”
Cynthia turned on her husband. “Stop it, Claude.”
Abruptly, he got up. Looking down at his wife, he announced, “I’ve had enough. I’ll be at the club, and I hope someone will drive you there when you finish.” Cynthia, embarrassed by his outburst, dropped her eyes to the floor. Kathleen looked ashamed for him and Russ grabbed the arms of his chair as if he were about to jump up and punch his brother-in-law. Claude crossed the room and left. No one said good bye.
After several moments of silence, Cynthia said, “I’m sorry, Dad. He’s been working too hard.”
Sam didn’t respond. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair realizing it was over. They didn’t believe him.
“Dad,” Cynthia said, “This is not good for you. Please drop it. It’s tearing up the family. Mom’s gone. I can’t stand to have you stir up all that pain we went through. Please.”
“I can’t either,” Kathleen said. “I’m sorry you believe Mom could do such a thing, but I wish you’d keep it to yourself.” Her words cut into him.
“Will you let go of it now?” Cynthia pleaded.
With his eyes still shut, he said, “I’ve written a letter to Susan Lang that’s being forwarded by her publisher. If she is Sarah, I think she’ll answer my appeal to get in touch with us.”
“Okay,” Kathleen said. “You’ve done that, but let that be the end of it.”
“You found out a lot of stuff, Dad,” Russ said, “but you missed the key thing. Mom wouldn’t have left us like that.”
Sam opened his eyes and looked at his children. Their eyes were on him, waiting. He knew they’d never accept his going to Saskatchewan and Maine, so he decided not to tell them. He hadn’t the energy to argue further. He was exhausted and his lower back muscles felt like iron clamps.
“There’s two large pizzas in the kitchen,” he said. “Take what you want when you leave.”