“That nice young man next door mowed my lawn today.” Hannah was keeping up the conversational gambit. “You know Eleanor’s son. He said the two of you talked the other day and that you’d gone to high school together. I’d known that but forgotten it somehow. He’s in the film business, you know. He’s directed lots of movies.”
“I thought he said he was a producer,” Risa said.
Hannah looked confused. “Isn’t that the same thing? Anyway Eleanor was awfully proud of him and I can see why. Such a nice young man.”
“I pay a lawn service to mow your lawn.”
At the reminder, her mother replied distractedly, “Well, I’ll cancel them tomorrow. Save you some money.” Her gaze darted away, couldn’t seem to find a place to land.
Risa contemplated the other woman. “What’s really wrong?” Trepidation was pooling in her stomach as she sat down on the old couch beside her mother. Maybe she’d gotten bad news from the doctor, although Risa couldn’t recall the last time the woman had visited one. Or lost her job. Or . . .
“I got this in the mail today.” There was a crinkle of paper as Hannah carefully drew a letter out of the pocket of her plaid and navy uniform top. “It was addressed to me in care of the cleaning service I work for. They sent it on. I’ll admit it shook me up a bit. Silly, I know. But it’s like having the past jump out at me when I least expected it. Gave me a bit of a jolt.”
Risa took the envelope from her mother. Took out the letter and unfolded it, scanning the scrawled writing quickly.
Heat, a white-hot tide of it, surged inside her. Raymond Blanchette, that son of a bitch, had always had more balls than brains. But she didn’t recall him ever having a memory problem before.
And she’d made it very clear the last time she’d spoken to him what would happen if he ever came near her mother again. Ever tried to contact her.
Apparently he needed a reminder.
“Reading that . . . I could almost hear him saying the words. Promises like he used to make me. How things would be different if only I’d give him another chance. He always was a real sweet talker.” Hannah wouldn’t meet her daughter’s eyes. Her fingers plucked nervously at her pant leg.
Comprehension belatedly pricked through fury. She had no idea what her mother felt for the man. As far as she knew, they hadn’t seen each other in eight years. But Hannah had refused to press charges against him the last time he’d put her in the hospital. Had forgiven him a multitude of times prior to that for a whole raft of sins.
Risa chose her words carefully. “Maybe I should speak to him.” She’d thought she’d come on forcefully enough the last time to put the fear of God in him, but time and circumstances might have dimmed his recollection of the scene.
She’d take great enjoyment in jogging his memory.
“No, I ’spect I need to do this myself.”
It was only when Hannah reached over to pat her hand that Risa realized it was balled into a fist. “Don’t worry. I’m not the same woman I was back then.” She waited for Risa’s eyes to meet hers before smiling slightly. “I know you didn’t understand what kept me going back after some of the times he and I had. I didn’t understand myself, until after I was out of it. After you moved me here and Eleanor and I became friends.”
It took a moment for Marisa to put it together. Eleanor Dobson, the deceased friend from next door, had once worked in a battered women’s shelter. Apparently the women’s friendship had been healing in more ways than one.
“What will you tell him?”
“Well, I haven’t the words yet but I do have my answer. And knowing Raymond, it’s best to keep it short. More would just encourage him, whatever else I wrote.”
That was true enough. Risa rapidly sifted through options. Although Hannah refused to have anything to do with a cell phone, Risa had arranged for an unlisted landline number. And Raymond didn’t have her address or he wouldn’t have tried to contact her through work. Her checks were automatically deposited, so there was no reason for her mother to go to the office of the cleaning company for anything.
The realization relaxed her. “Okay. If you’re sure you’re up to it.”