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Andrea Johnson
Allie pushed away from the computer so quickly, she nearly fell over backward in the chair. A cat jumped up on the laptop, opening several random windows. It must have hit the reply button as well, because the top window was an empty reply, just waiting for Allie to fill in the words.
Allie told her mother she would be there at six thirty tonight.
Then she went out to buy hair color and a curling iron.
Chapter 26 Home
The house did not look like a home her family should live in--but then, no home that didn't include Allie would seem right. As she approached the front door, she double-checked her dowdy clothes, and her newly styled hair--now auburn instead of the salt-and-pepper it had been. If she didn't know better, she really would think she was her fourth-grade teacher.
She stood at the front door for what felt like forever, reaching for the doorbell, then pulling her finger back, reaching, then pulling back, until finally she pulled back a little too late, and succeeded in ringing the bell anyway.
Footsteps from inside. The door opening. A familiar face. A little careworn, a little tired, but Allie still knew that face. After three years Allie was standing in front of her mother.
"Mrs. Wintuck, I'm glad you could make it."
Allie had to keep from hurling herself into her mother's arms. She had to remember she had a role to play. She was Allie pretending to be a cat woman pretending to be a teacher from New Jersey. "Please, call me Sarah," Allie said, and stepped into the house. The foyer opened right into the living room. All their old furniture was there, with a few new additions.
"Make yourself comfortable," her mother said. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Some water would be nice."
Her mother went off to get some water, and Allie went to work looking around the room, searching for any sign that her father was still part of this picture, but there was so much to take in, she didn't even know what she should be looking for. He was in photographs, but then so was she. A high school graduation picture sat on the mantel. It hadn't even occurred to Allie that her sister, April, would now be away at college. While time had stopped for Allie, everyone else's lives had moved on.
"I've ordered Chinese food," her mother said, coming back from the kitchen with some bottled water. "I hope you don't mind; I didn't get home from work in time to cook."
"That's perfectly all right, I'm just glad to be here."
"We're glad to have you."
We! Her mother said we! "So ... your husband ..."
"He's picking up the food on the way home. He should be here soon."
Allie practically collapsed into the sofa, full of sweet relief. So he had survived! If nothing else came from this meeting, at least she would have that! But then--what if it was a new husband? What if her mother had remarried? A sister in college, a new house--a lot can happen in three years. She had to know.
"Was he ... badly injured in the accident? I hope not." Allie clenched her toes, preparing for the worst of all possible news. Then her mother said.
"It was a difficult rehabilitation, but he pulled through."
Allie released her breath, not even realizing she had been holding it. She felt her face flush with relief. Her mother took it for thirst, and sat across from her, pouring the bottled water into a glass for her. As Allie reached for the glass, she saw that her hand--the cat woman's hand--was trembling, so Allie took the glass with her other hand instead.
"I must say, I was surprised to get your e-mail," her mother said.
"As soon as I heard you were here in Memphis, I knew I had to contact you. You know, Allie was one of my favorite students."
Her mother smiled slimly. "Really."
Allie searched her memory for a poignant moment to share. "I remember for Mother's Day, we had a poem that each student was supposed to paste into a card they were making--but Allie insisted on writing her own poem--and when it was done, half the class wanted to use her poem instead of the original one!"
Her mother looked at her incredulously. "I still have that card. And you're telling me you remember that?"
Actually, Allie remembered the poem itself, but realized that reciting it might be just a little too weird. "As I said, she was a favorite student."
"What else do you remember?" her mother asked. The tone of the question seemed just a little bit off. Allie didn't think much of it at the time.
"I remember ... I remember one day she came to school sad, because you and she had a fight that morning. Something about a neighborhood boy you didn't want her to spend time with. She never told you, but she was sorry-- and you were right, he turned out to be a real creep."
