“We’ve had a little incident with the donkey poster.” She tried to force a smile while raising the torn sheet for Adele to see.
“Well, that’s just awful. But you don’t think Buddy did that,do you?” Her voice grew louder in disbelief. “I mean … there are just so many children here. How could youreally knowwho did it?”
“I actually saw him do it, Adele.”
Buddy slithered to his mother’s side.
“He’s always being wrongly accused.…” Adele pulled him close to her side, and Grace was sure Buddy had looked up at her and narrowed his eyes and smiled.
“Let’s go home now, Buddy.…” Adele said, taking her son protectively to her side.
“I really didn’t want to make a big deal out of this, Adele,” Grace tried to explain. “That’s why I chose to speak to him directly.”
But Adele was no longer listening. She had suddenly become distracted by the punch stain on her sweater. Visibly distraught by the string of red droplets, which no doubt would be difficult to remove, she fled the party with her son. Grace was hopeful that Adele wouldn’t remember their uncomfortable exchange the next morning, for the sweater seemed a far more pressing matter.
CHAPTER 21
GRACE WAS ANNOYED BUT NOT SURPRISED TO LEARNBUDDYwas causing trouble yet again for Katie and her friend. His shenanigans had been going on for as long as she could remember. Since her eldest had started school, Grace always held her breath on the first day, hoping Katie wouldn’t be in a class with him. In the years she did, it only meant a series of phone calls to the school to complain to the principal. Adele had lost more friends than she would have liked because of Buddy’s attraction to mischief. Recently, the boy had grown taller than his father and Katie told her he was telling people he was going to get a motorcycle when he turned sixteen. Grace could only imagine how that conversation might go down at the family’s dinner table.
Now that it was late May, Grace was looking forward to putting the school year behind them and having the next few months to recharge. Summer was always the best time in Bellegrove. The proximity of the town’s bay club made life easy for her. She’d pile the girls into the old Pontiac, never earlier than 10:00 a.m. so they could sleep late and she could get another round of laundry washed and folded, and they’d spend the rest of the day by one of the two pools. They ordered inexpensive tuna sandwiches from the canteen and tall glasses of iced tea. Grace would rub Coppertone onto the girls’ backs and comb out the youngest’s hair. Although Katie now refused to wear matching bathing suits with her little sister, the image of them spending hours together without the stress of papers or exams was a welcome relief.
She could hardly believe Katie was now old enough to be one of the lifeguards. How could it be that if she got the job this year, she’dbe seated high up on one of those metal towers rather than on one of the plastic lounge chairs with her and Molly? When Grace imagined that, the distance she had been sensing between her and Katie seemed to grow more pronounced.
But if Katie was getting a job and growing more independent, then it was yet one more sign that Grace needed to find more for herself outside the home. Hadn’t the priest in last week’s sermon told them that having purpose in their life would bring a greater sense of peace and well-being to their hearts and homes? Grace considered her crossing paths with B?o might be some kind of sign from above.
Having collected the children’s old picture books from the attic, she put into motion her promise to Sister Mary Alice to help tutor at the motherhouse. She promised to go twice a week, but she wasn’t sure how many hours she should put aside. She’d have to talk to Tom about it, as he had a good sense about these things.
One of the qualities she loved most about Tom was his big heart that he had demonstrated so often over the years. Like when he offered Jack the apartment over the store and then spent hours teaching him the trade. Now this damaged man, who had endured so much suffering, had skills of his own.
This line of thought led her to wonder if the Sisters of Our Lady Queen of Martyrs would even let her bring B?o and Anh back to the house, where they could practice English in a more comfortable setting. She knew she was already getting ahead of herself, but she savored her new sense of purpose. It made her feel alive.
That Monday, Grace woke up energized. Over the weekend, she had organized the boxes of books she had collected from the attic. Next, she found her daughters’ black-and-white composition books from the year before that still had several blank sheets in them and pulled outthe used pages so what remained between the cardboard covers was crisp and pristine. But most importantly, she mulled over how she was going to put her free time to better use.
After Katie and Molly were picked up by their school buses, Grace dressed herself in a pretty celery-colored dress, tied her hair back in a white silk scarf, and applied her makeup, choosing a particularly bright shade of pink lipstick to perk up her face.
Before grabbing the carton of books and heading over to the car, she pulled a package of Oreos from the cupboard, thinking how her own children’s homework was always easier with a snack. When she sat down behind the steering wheel of her Pontiac wagon, she turned on the radio and checked her face in the mirror. She didn’t see in her reflection the fatigue of motherhood or the expression of melancholy she often saw when it rained; instead, she saw herself reinvigorated and happy. Grace turned up the volume and set out to the motherhouse with the windows of the station wagon rolled down and the edges of her silk scarf rippling in the air.
Grace’s memory of the Sisters teaching English to those in their care was wholly different from what she discovered this time around.
B?o was now nestled in one of the larger upholstered chairs, quietly watching the television. The image of Shazam brightly lit up the screen.
The room bristled with restlessness. When Sister Mary Alice now approached Grace, she did not look like the same woman Grace had seen only a few days earlier. She looked frazzled and exhausted.
“Ms. Golden …” Sister Mary Alice hurried over to her. “I’m so happy you’ve come this morning.… We could really use an extra pair of hands.”
“I brought some books that might help.…” Grace lifted the box.
“We’re only using picture books now.… Is that what you brought?” She peered into the box. “I fear we’re going to have to leave the phonetics to the professionals.”
Sister Mary Alice pointed to the children of varying ages spread out on the couches and gave a little nervous laugh. “As you can see, some days are better than others.”
Grace scanned the room. It seemed suddenly more claustrophobic and certainly less structured than she remembered. She felt naive in her cheery sundress and with her carton of books with the cookies casually thrown on top. What did she think would actually happen? That she could drive over here and make the lives of these children, who had journeyed thousands of miles from their home, suddenly easier with bright lipstick and some snacks? How foolish was she?
“I came to help,” she muttered quietly, though all of the confidence she had on the ride over had now vanished. “But I don’t know if I’m qualified to do any of this, either.”
Sister Mary Alice looked at her serenely. “I’m not sure any of us are actually qualified, but we must go with what our hearts tell us.”
She looked over her shoulder to where B?o was in his chair, looking listlessly at the TV.
