Page 43 of Paper Ghosts

Despite the fact that she was obviously having trouble walking, Mim still looked like a frosted confection behind bakery glass. Her blond hair didn’t have the slightest shimmer of silver, and was still cut into a soft bob that ended at her ears. She still wore those midi-length skirts and blouses with dramatic collars.

“Bailey’s here,” Tug said.

“I can see that, Tug.”

Bailey stepped forward. “Hello, Mim,” she said, kissing her cheek, which smelled of sweet cosmetic powder.

“Thank you for coming,” she said mildly, as if Bailey were there for an unremarkable birthday party. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m in the middle of a program.”

“I’ll bring dinner to you shortly,” Tug called after her.

“Those old recipes are a travesty,” Mim called back, “not dinner.”

“This one is called Oven Porcupines!”

“And that’s supposed to change my mind?”

“All right. Soup for you. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Actually, I do,” she said, closing the sunroom door behind her.

The dynamic between Tug and his mother these days was a wonder to behold. After Bailey left, when Tug had no reason to stay, he did stay. And every time she talked to him, he referred to Mim with such affection. He finally had a good relationship with her, and found joy in the fact that she needed him. Bailey knew he had been the parent he’d wanted his mother to be to him. Just as she knew Mim had been the grandmother she’d wanted her own grandmother to be. She found it astounding, when she really thought about it, the sheer determination some people had to re-create their missing parts, when they didn’t even know what those parts looked like.

Bailey turned to him. “Do I want to know what Oven Porcupines are?”

“You’ll love them,” he said, herding her into the dining room by flapping his hands. “I found a box of old 1970s Betty Crocker recipe cards in the back of a kitchen cabinet. They’re hilarious. Good, but hilarious. I think that’s what my cooking was missing, a sense of humor.”

Bailey sat at the table while Tug disappeared into the kitchen. It was radiating warmth from the oven, making the rest of the house seem even chillier. Mim still kept the house too cold, dehumidifying the place so that not a drop of water could linger inside. Bailey would use that chill as an excuse to keep on her hat, even though she knew it looked ridiculous. It was shaped like a teddy bear’s head with two long braided ties falling to her shoulders. But it was the only one at the airport she could find that would completely cover her hair.

Tug walked back holding a glass baking dish full of large, bubbling, sauce-covered meatballs made with rice, which gave them the appearance of quills.

“I see you still keep the cloche on the table,” Bailey said, nodding to it.

“That’s strange. It wasn’t there a few minutes ago.” He set down the dish and took off his oven mitts. When he lifted the cloche’s lid, a note card was magically revealed.

“What does it say?” Her expectation had a different slant now, definitely darkened with more dread than when she would see that card as a child.

Tug handed it to her. “She wants you to have tea with her tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why didn’t she ask me a minute ago?” Bailey asked, confused.

“She doesn’t know how to say what she wants to say. Give her time. I wasn’t the only one who missed you after you left,” he said, using a serving spoon to put two meatballs onto her plate first, then his own.

“I have to admit, when you said she wanted me to come home, I wasn’t expecting her to still be walking around, let alone inviting me to tea.” She knew Mim had been in ill health for a while. She’d had surgery on her shoulder for a torn rotator cuff the year Bailey left. She remembered Mim favoring it that fateful night. Then, a few years ago, Tug mentioned another surgery, this time her leg. Bailey had assumed it was from a fall. Mim kept the floors as slick as a skating rink. But yesterday Tug called and revealed the leg surgery had actually been to insert a rod due to bone cancer, and she didn’t have long.

“She’s putting on a good front, as she always does. She doesn’t give away much. She specifically asked me to keep how bad it was from you until now,” Tug said as he sat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Secrets are a family trait, but I think we were both trying to protect you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who’s sorry you had to deal with this alone for so long.” She knew she hadn’t given him many reasons to think she was someone he could lean on, but she was much healthier emotionally than she used to be. He never knew why she struggled so much after leaving. She never told him about that night, never told him that Mim was the one who’d sent her away. She suspected he knew there was a precipitating event, but he never pushed.

“I wouldn’t say entirely alone,” he said vaguely as he fussed with putting his napkin in his lap. “Until recently, I’ve been able to get into Chapel Hill a few times a week. I have a friend there.”

“Daddy,” she said. This was an unexpected bright spot. “Are you seeing someone?”

“It’s a conversation for a later date. Eat your porcupines before they get cold.”

Bailey picked up her fork. “That’s not something you hear every day.”

After dinner, she took her bag up to her old room. It seemed to take a millennium to get there. Had there always been this many stairs? She could almost feel the presence of the house following her, like a pet. Her door even creaked open slightly as she approached, as if it were showing her the way. She parted the wooden beads hanging in the doorway and entered.