Stowaway: Chapter 5

Okay, it has to be said: I love this town. I love the tourists, which is weird. You would think I wouldn’t. I love going with Emily when she works at the church and being there to do projects to keep the kids busy if she is talking to their parents. I love the recreation path, and the secret patch of raspberries Jess told me about. I can’t wait until summer comes so we can take rollerblade to the old restaurant, Whiskers, and get some of those berries. It makes me sad it’s winter, because I really want to try them.

Morgan was ready for something new. As much as she complained about the damn parrot costume of Nathaniel’s, it had been fun to do. She and Jon got to do it together. Now that it was pushing mid-November, Morgan felt better and more like herself. So, Sunday after church, she caught up with Coby and asked if he had anything he needed help with. She had already asked everybody else, but they all said they were okay, or didn’t have anything going on.

The thing with Coby, though, was, he was the handyman. That meant he usually had a project he was working on. He waited until Jess and Libby disappeared down the hill toward the rec path and Jon had taken Christian to Ben and Jerry’s to taste the 2010 flavors that he hadn’t tried yet. Jon was having dreams about the Boston Crème Pie ice cream with its yellow cake pieces, fudge flakes and pastry cream. Christian was convinced he needed to try the Milk & Cookies flavor, which looked to Coby like Cookies & Cream to the extreme. CJ would be hyper the rest of the day.

“I could really use your help, if you wouldn’t mind,” Coby said as soon as they were out of sight. “I decided to remodel the spare bedroom off the laundry room. Turn it into an art studio for Libby. She’s been using my workshop and it’s so small and dark in there. I don’t like the idea of her going out in the middle of the night when she feels inspired or whatever. Plus, it’s not ventilated, and I think places like that need fans. I know I’m really busy, but I figured, maybe with a bunch of us helping, I could have it done by Christmas.”

“Sure, I’ll help,” Morgan agreed. “What do you think you’ll need?”

“It’s full of weights and stuff now. We never use them, so if it’s something you or Jon might want, you’re welcome to it.”

“So, we’ll just need to take all that out, sweep and clean the floor, put some kind of spill-proof flooring down, ventilate it and get some better lighting.”

“I can drive to Home Depot. Check out vinyl flooring and stuff. How big is the room?” Morgan wanted to know. She loved the idea of a long drive alone, thinking of nothing but details.

“I haven’t measured yet. But spread the word. Don’t tell Libby or CJ, but let everybody else know. Oh, hey, and can I use your garage? I think she needs a table in there, or a desk, and it would kind of give it away if I built it in my shop, since she’s in there all the time.” Coby pointed out.

Morgan bit her lip. “I don’t know. I’d have to see. I think our garage might not work. Jon’s got his car in there, and he hates to park it outside. But check with Nate and Cary. They might have space, and they’re right behind you.”

“Cool. Thanks,” Coby said, scanning the parking lot for either of his neighbors.

When he couldn’t find them, he decided to take a trip of his own to Home Depot, and anywhere else he could think of that might have good art supplies. It might take all day, but it would be worth it.

--

It hadn’t taken long, but Libby had made a decision. She was staying. And even though Jess had told her right away that she could stay as long as she wanted, Libby felt it was only right to ask if it was okay to live in their guest room and take over their downstairs.

Jess had taken it upon herself to give Libby a tour of town, which was when she took the opportunity to ask. Jess had just smiled and said of course she could stay, and that she and Coby and Christian would be glad to have them.

They were walking down the rec path and all Libby could do was look around and take in how pretty everything was, even in the winter. It was quiet and peaceful and it inspired her in every way.

Libby had been here almost two weeks and she loved it, even with the stares and questions. All her friends who already lived there said they would subside after a while, if she decided to stay. If she hadn’t already decided she would, Jess’s impromptu tour one Sunday after church definitely convinced her.

“Christian, Coby and I ride bikes here a lot during the summer,” Jess said as they walked over a small wooden bridge, the church at their backs. “It’s not too cold, now, see? The water’s still flowing under here.”

Libby shivered. She was used to cold weather, being from Minnesota, but 25 degrees didn’t strike her as “not too cold.” But she guessed things were different in Vermont.

“Jon and Morgan rollerblade here and right over here is the Depot Street Malt Shoppe. It’s Christian’s favorite place, but we don’t go there too often, since we’re trying to save money.”

“Who would want to go to a malt shop in the winter anyway?” Libby asked. “It’s cold enough.”

“It’s actually a 50’s style diner. It’s really cute, and the food’s good. It’s not too expensive, which is good for us. If we do go out, it’s usually here. The Stowe Free Public Library is behind the diner, down the street to the left, on the right side of the road,” Jess pointed in the general direction. “There are always sculptures out front made out of different things like metal or stone. They are different each year. Art is big in town. The post office is right behind the diner, just across the street, but perpendicular“

Libby nodded. She had seen the library and the post office, and most everything in town, by now, but it felt nice to have Jess point things out and explain a little more about them.

She was onto explaining about the parking lot next to the malt shoppe, which was apparently for a bookstore, which was one of the few places in town open late. “Here, that means about eight o’clock at night,” Jess said, a little apologetic. “It’s nice, though, and they have a big section of books all by Vermont authors. Chis Bohjalian is one of the more famous Vermont authors. Most of his novels are set in Vermont. Water Witches is set partly in Stowe and the towns right next to it.”

“It still sounds like all the fun stuff is in the summer,” Libby complained lightly. “It makes me wish we would have come in the summer.”

“We have an indoor ice skating rink and an indoor public swimming pool,” Jess said, optimistically, trying to raise Libby’s spirits. “There’s also The Messiah Sing before Christmas at church. Anyone who wants to can sing in it. They just sing until they run out of time, and then it just ends. “

“Okay, I need a translation. I’ve been in church my whole life and I’ve never heard of a Messiah Sing before,” Libby said, clearly confused.

“It’s like an opera or a musical. It was done by Handel and it had all these acts and scenes. It’s all music. Sometimes we sing along and sometimes there are soloists, and there‘s a 20-piece orchestra onstage. It’s really beautiful. My favorite is when we sing Hallelujah.” Quietly, Jess sang a couple lines and Libby found it wasn’t unfamiliar at all, but that she had heard it done as a choral piece in a movie when she was fifteen.

They were quiet a while, and sat down on a bench to rest. Someone jogged by with a dog on a leash and waved to Jess. She waved back.

“Christian, Nate and Morgan kind of stand out here, don’t they?” Libby observed, having registered that the lady walking her dog, as well as everybody in the church and in town she had seen were not minorities. At Jess’s inquisitive look, Libby elaborated. “I don’t mean to be rude. I totally don’t care, but I just noticed, you know? It’s not like Minneapolis or Chicago. Was it hard for Christian to adjust?”

“The schools are good, which was a must for us. At first, the kids at school asked him why he was brown, but they were just curious. Actually, the pastor’s Brazilian or something, so I’m hoping he’ll be a good example for Christian. Anyway, yeah. Coby and I thought CJ would feel safer in a small school where he knew everyone. There’s only two second-grade teachers in the whole school. Less than 300 kids. It helps that he’s familiar with everyone in town too.”

“Does he feel safer?” Libby wondered.

“He seems to, even though he still has issues sometimes,” Jess pointed out. “Hey, I was gonna ask you about that yellow painting he gave me…”

Libby watched as Jess gathered her long curly hair behind her and put a clip in it. It looked redder in the summer months. Now it just looked dark. Jess was so pretty though, even with her puffy white jacket and maroon stocking cap.

“What about it?” Libby questioned, curious. It seemed straightforward to her.

“I don’t know what to do about it,” Jess admitted. “He told me it was his fear. I mean, your son gives you a painting that basically says, ‘Mom, I’m scared.’ Most people aren’t that honest. I never was. I hid every emotion I ever had when I was growing up. My dad never helped me deal with them. Legend’s parents tried, but I don’t really know any other moms around here.”

Libby was quiet a minute. “What do you think you should do? What feels right?”

“I feel like I should be honest with him, but I don’t know if he could handle it. What would he do if he knew that I lived scared most of my life? That this kind of fear never really goes away?” Jess looked at Libby, questions in her eyes.

Libby put her arm around Jess, and rested her head on Jess’s shoulder. She knew about Jess’s past. They all did. They knew that she was abandoned by her own mother when she was three years old in a movie theater. Libby didn’t know all the details, but she knew Jess’s mom had disappeared after that, and that when Libby first moved in to the apartment with the girls three years ago in August, that she had nightmares.

“I think he would identify with you. I think he already feels better, realizing that you might know what he feels like. He’s already been through a lot in his life, so I don’t think you need to worry about this making him really upset. He gave his fear to you because he knows you understand it. He’s not sure anyone else does. If you feel like you should be honest, be honest. Answer his questions. You can even come to Coby’s workshop and do a painting of your own for him,” Libby invited.

“Maybe I will,” Jess said quietly.

--

The way Jon figured it, Christian was a good test-run, in case he and Morgan ever decided to have kids. Or if Nate and Cary got one, and he had to baby sit. But Christian almost wasn’t a fair estimate of kid-behavior because he was so awesome. Jon had always loved him, and volunteered to watch him whenever Jess or Coby got busy. Of course, with Libby and Emily living over there now, Jon figured his kid-time might be seriously reduced. So he took it upon himself to take Christian out whenever he could.

“This Boston Crème Pie is the best ever,” Jon moaned happily, taking a bite.

“Mm-mm,” Christian denied. “Milk & Cookies makes my life,” he said, taking a big bite.

“So, what’s up?” Jon asked. He really didn’t get much of an opportunity to check in now, and he missed it.

Christian shrugged. “I didn’t get my reading minutes done, so I’m going to be in big trouble tomorrow. I have to read twenty minutes a day and write it on this calendar thing. I’m way behind, and I don’t think I can catch up.”

“Well, what are you reading?” Jon pressed.

“Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing,” Christian sighed, and reached behind him, inexplicably producing the book from the waistband of his jeans.

“You smuggled your book into church in the back of your pants?” Jon asked, incredulous.

“In case it got boring!” Christian objected, smiling.

“Here, give it to me. How about if I read, and you listen? Does that still count?” Jon asked. Christian nodded and Jon searched for a bookmark. “Where are you in this?” he asked.

“The beginning,” Christian admitted, sheepish. He slouched in his chair and pulled his hat down lower.

But Jon just nodded and opened the book. “I won Dribble at Jimmy Fargo’s birthday party,” he read in a voice that made Christian sit up and pay attention. Jon made the book sound fun and interesting. Not hard, like sounding out all the words really was.

It was the middle of Ralph’s birthday party when Emily, Morgan, Nate and Cary came in. They didn’t say anything, just pulled up chairs around the table and listened to Jon read, too.

Emily had a Coffee Coffee Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz milkshake, Morgan got a Life’s a Beach sorbet, Cary got a Chocolate Therapy cone and Nathaniel got a bowl of Imagine Whirled Peace. Christian knew all the flavors even without hearing them order, because he had been here so many times.

Jon got done with the chapter and looked around. “Well, my Boston Crème Pie is melting. Anybody want to help the kid rack up last-minute reading minutes?”

Morgan snatched the book and took over, reading in a very good voice, almost as good as Jon’s. Soon everybody took a turn, and Christian liked listening to them. Cary did the voices and Nathaniel put lots of feeling in. Emily would stop and laugh at the funny parts. It was the best day Christian had.

He wouldn’t get in trouble now. His friends were helping him.

--

Working with Jess on art was a lot harder than working with Christian or Coby. She was nervous, the same way Nathaniel had been right after she met him, and wanted to learn to paint. Jess was hesitant to put paint to paper.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea. I mean, what if there are fumes or something and I get a headache?” she asked.

“It’s all kid-friendly, Jess. None of it smells. Just go with what you think.”

“I’m not artistic, though!” she objected, startling Snoopy and Linus who were tuckered out in opposite corners of the workshop.

Libby came around the easel and stood beside her. “The point isn’t to be artistic, it’s to express yourself. Don’t think about it, just do it.”

“I can’t paint my feelings, though. There’s too many…” Jess sighed. This would have been less confusing before her brain injury, but Jess was also fairly certain that she had never been an artist.

“Can you paint one?” Libby asked and Jess nodded.

“Which one?”

“Paint what made you not feel afraid. Paint your answer to Christian. That’s why you wanted to do this, right?”

Jess bit her lip, thinking, and then, finally, dipped a brush in some red paint. With it, she drew the outline of a heart. When it dried, she filled it up with words to her son:

Dear Christian,

It felt really scary when I got left.
I didn’t know what to do.
I did feel scared and lonely and out of myself.
Sometimes I didn’t talk.
Sometimes I hid.
Sometimes I made bad choices.
I’ll tell you a secret:
I am still scared.
Sometimes the thing that happens to you
Is so big and scary you can’t get over it.
Sometimes I have bad dreams
And remember when my mommy left me on purpose.
But I will never leave you on purpose
Because you are my heart
And I can’t leave part of myself behind.
I learned to be brave by watching people who love me
And by learning to love myself.
Love is the opposite of fear.
Hang onto love
And you will be OK,
I promise.

Love,
Mom

--

Liam had just gotten home after a crazy day at church. There had been all sorts of confessions during the service. All sorts of people admitting sins they had committed, and it was a heavy atmosphere. Liam had cried more than he had, probably, in his whole life. He just felt so weighed down by God’s sadness. Well, that, and he couldn’t stop thinking of Libby. It had been two weeks and she said she would be home by now.

He had tried calling her phone but her voice mailbox was full and she wasn’t answering.

Finally, he decided to get a hold of someone else. He didn’t have any of their numbers in his phone anymore, but…yes! That list Jess made back when they first started Bible study was still taped to the inside of the cupboard. He knew Jess was out because she had only given her work number at the time and she obviously wasn’t local anymore. Morgan had changed her number after her stint in the drug world, but he could probably get it, with some creative thought.

First, he prayed for five minutes straight, asking for God’s intervention. Then, Liam took a deep breath and called Morgan’s home number.

“Hello?” a girl’s voice answered. She sounded young, like a preteen version of Morgan.

“Hi, is this…” Liam hesitated, going back in his memory. Morgan had two sisters. Kate was the older one, who was always in trouble and the younger one was… “…Alyssa?” he asked, the name finally coming to him.

“Yeah, who’s this?” she asked.

“I’m a friend of Morgan’s, Bryan Torres. I lost Morgan’s number and I wondered if you could give it to me again? I promise I’ll be more careful with it,” Liam said, praying that Alyssa would recognize Bryan’s name as someone Morgan trusted.

“Sure,” she said and giggled. “Hang up and I’ll text it to you.”

It had been that easy.

--

Morgan was walking up to Coby’s workshop, her arms full of small containers, and lugging a box fan. She figured these would be nondescript enough just in case she opened the door and found Libby inside the shop instead of Coby.

She kicked the door with her boot and pushed it open, finding Jess and Libby inside talking.

“Oops. Sorry ladies. Jess, I’ve got some junk for your husband. Any idea where I can leave it?”

“Why does he need junk?” Jess asked, a little irritated. “He’s supposed to be cleaning stuff out not bringing more in…”

“No idea, he’s your husband, dude. Not mine. Great. Hold on.” Morgan set down the fan and containers, and dug in the pocket of her jeans, pulling out her phone.

We might as well be strangers in another town.
We might as well be strangers in another town.
We might as well, we might as well, we might as well
Be strangers.

The song by Keane instantly set Morgan on alert because it was her ring tone for unfamiliar numbers. But something tugged at the back of her mind as she looked at the screen.

“Libby, is this your brother?” Morgan asked, showing her the number.

“What is he calling for?” Libby moaned, recognizing it instantly.

“Well do you have your phone with you?” Jess asked, cleaning up the supplies she used.

“No, it’s buried in the cushions of your couch. I was sick of him calling,” Libby admitted.

“Yeah, but what if something’s wrong?” Jess pressed, concerned.

Sighing, Morgan picked up the call. “Hello, this is Morgan Davis,” she answered coolly.

“Hey, Morgan, it’s Liam,” he said warmly, as if no time had passed since they had dated. As if he hadn’t outed her struggle with drugs on national TV. “How are you?”

“Do you need something?” Morgan returned matter-of-factly.

Apparently realizing he had no other alternative he asked to speak with Libby.

--

Libby hung up Morgan’s phone and then rushed to the house to find her own. Morgan only had two bars of service, and there was barely reception in the yard. Libby found the phone right where she left it and hid out in the Nemo bathroom downstairs to return Liam’s call.

“It’s been two weeks,” he said, as soon as she called back.

“So?”

“You said you would be back in a week or two. It’s been two weeks,” Liam insisted. “When are you coming home? Is there a snowstorm or something I don’t know about?”

“Liam, I’m not coming home,” Libby said flatly.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his tone bewildered. “You can’t stay there. You can’t drive. You don’t have a job, a place to live, or anything! Did you lie to me when you said you’d be back?”

“Yeah, because I knew you wouldn’t let me go otherwise!” Libby exclaimed. “You control everything I do, Liam. The money. Where I go. Who I see. How the public perceives me. I’m not letting you do it anymore. By the way, I can drive, and I‘m looking for a job. I have a place to live, too.”

“I can’t believe you’d do this, Libby! Who’s going to take care of you? Who’s going to hire someone who can’t even show up to a college class on time? How could you go behind my back like this?!”

Libby gritted her teeth, and blinked the tears from her eyes. “I can take care of myself. I’m twenty-one. I’ve got this, trust me.”

“That’s just it! I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to trust you again! Not after a betrayal like this! I mean, is there even a church where you are? Must be like Sodom and Gomorrah with all those fags out there,” Liam laughed bitterly.

Libby’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t hear that word now and not think of Buddy. After he had groped her and backhanded her, he told her to get Nathaniel, but he had used that word instead. To Libby, it was synonymous with hate crimes, abuse and ignorance. Liam knew it, too. He knew exactly what happened to her from the very beginning to the very end, and he still chose to use that word.

“Shut up,” she ground out.

On the phone, though, Liam was still talking. “How are Nathaniel and his wife?” he asked derisively. “They’d better not be thinking of adopting any children, because no kid needs to be influenced into living that kind of life… The only kids they should get are ones already dying of their people’s diseases. You know? They should just gather all of them up in Vermont or wherever, and ship them off to an island somewhere. They‘d die off eventually because they can‘t procreate.”

“You’re just as bad as he was…” Libby said lowly. She was talking about Buddy and they both knew it.

“Oh, come on, Libby! I’m angry, okay? Don’t I have a right to be?! You all left me alone up here! Not one of you called to see how I was! Do you have any idea how that feels? And I never laid a hand on Nathaniel! How dare you compare me to that pervert?”

“Bye, Liam. Don’t call again. I don’t have anything else to say to you.” Then, she hung up on him and went to talk to Morgan about how she changed her number.

--

Libby couldn’t find Morgan, so she went out back to Coby’s shop. It sat halfway between Jess and Coby’s and Nate and Cary’s houses. As Libby got closer, she saw the sock on the handle. That was weird. Coby was inside eating dinner. Furrowing her brow, Libby pushed the door open, and found Nathaniel at the easel, painting with sleeping Linus in his lap.

“I love you. You know that, right?” Libby said, before she could think better of it.

“I totally know that. And I love you. More than ever,” Nate said honestly, squinting straight ahead at his painting. “We stopped at Ben and Jerry’s after church and it made me want to paint.” Nate said, still not looking up from what he was doing. “I heard about your Emotions & Concepts Gallery,” he said without looking up. “I wanted to contribute.”

Stepping inside, Libby closed the door behind her.

She paused and watched Nathaniel. Not his work, just him. The way he sat, leaning forward on the stool. His forehead was wrinkled in concentration. The black-and-white puppy slept in his lap, covered in the red plaid blanket. Nathaniel was still dressed as if for church in a light blue button down shirt she recognized from their college days, but he had ditched the dress pants for dark blue jeans. His wedding ring was on his finger, and he turned it when he was nervous. He wasn’t nervous now. His milk-and-coffee skin, dark curly hair and deep brown eyes all painted a picture of beauty to her. In addition, Libby knew that inside, there was a heart so big and so loving. She wondered how anyone could hate someone like this. Nate never looked up, and Libby finally took her place on the opposite side of the easel.

“Who said I had a gallery?” she asked, securing her own piece of paper and squirting paint out to mix. She didn’t know why it bothered her, and figured it shouldn’t. So Libby let it go. She let herself dream of a gallery full of paintings done by herself and her friends. It sounded perfect to Libby. Too bad it was firmly outside the realm of possibility. Oh well. Someday.

“Like, everybody,” Nate said, shrugging. “Coby, Christian, Jess, Cary, Em, Morgan, Jon…And just so you know, everybody who hasn’t done something with you really wants to. So you should invite them in. They‘re probably intimidated by your talent and beauty.”

“I’ll do that. What are you doing over there?” she asked, curious.

Nate was always interesting. He had a creative process all his own and liked to work solo. He wasn’t a very willing student. Instead, he preferred to learn from his own mistakes and discover his own message. He wouldn’t have done well if Libby told him which emotion or thing to paint. Nathaniel needed the freedom to choose. And he needed to be able to complete something fully before he left it and moved onto anything else. Often, he was willing to share his work, but wouldn’t stay to see anyone’s reactions. His art was for him, just as Libby’s was for her.

“Painting Peace,” he said, sounding totally content. “My ice cream inspired me.”

“Imagine Whirled Peace inspired you?” she guessed, biting her lip and starting in on her own painting. If she had a gallery, she might as well contribute something. So she started. She would paint Tolerance.

Libby mixed different hues of paint in every color, squinting in the bad light. She blended them all in with each other, making the background a light yellow. Then she added the Chinese symbol for tolerance, which she had seen on a necklace Nathaniel owned, in dark purple. Then, Libby swirled the English word in the paint beneath the symbol.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” Nate asked quietly.

Libby leaned to the side so they could see each other and nodded her approval. Before she knew it, Nate was standing beside her, humming in approval and asking, “Can I add something?”

“Of course,” Libby nodded, taking Linus from his arms.

She watched, as Nate bent down and carefully picked up her purple brush. In one corner, he added two Mars symbols beside one another. In another corner, two Venus symbols, in the third, a Mars and a Venus symbol and in the fourth, two sets of Mars and Venus symbols interlocked, side by side. She recognized the symbols of male-male, female-female, male-female, and some version of intersex or transgender. Nate’s additions made Libby feel complete, and in a strange way, vindicated. Liam had not won. He would never win. No matter how much hate he gave out. He wouldn’t win because love was stronger.

“I like it so much better now,” Libby nodded, smiling her thanks.

“All right, well I should go. Cary’s got to go to work tonight and I want to see him before he goes. Thanks for the love,” he said and took Linus out into the cold night, heading for home.

--

When she saw it, Nathaniel’s painting stopped her in her tracks.

A beautiful autumn landscape leaped off the paper. Brilliant leaves in every color filled the border and most of the page. And there, in the middle, was the very church Libby had just attended that morning. The small white building was captured almost perfectly, the steeple rising high above the leaves. As Libby leaned closer to study it, she noticed that the edges were jagged with a painted black border, as if it were a puzzle-piece, or a very small fragment of a bigger picture.