Tuesday afternoon, she went to the Calhouns’ straight from school. Eliza and her daughters had just arrived home from San Antonio Christian, and the girls were upstairs doing homework.
“We’re lucky there’s another SAC family willing to drop us off,” Eliza said. “It’s out of their way, but people seem to get it that I’m not so keen on driving. I’m scared of that traffic, to tell you the truth, with the girls in the car. I have to get over that. Dan drives us all in the morning. Anyway, we only have the one car for now. I suppose we’ll need to get another sooner or later.
“Lina, the after-school schedule in this house has been: book-time, suppertime, homework, bath time, then maybe a little TV. But on our way home today, they decided to do their homework right away so they’d have more time to spend with you. I cannot tell you how you’ve already lifted spirits in this house.”
“Really? I’m glad of it.”
“I wouldn’t say the girls are hungry for affection—there’s a lot of love in this house—but I worry that they are hungry for attention. Dan and I have been so distracted—new jobs, new city, etcetera. Our life’s a whirlabout, and I’m still not the same person I used to be, and I know they register that. I’m getting there, I’m close, but I’m not there yet.”
Lina followed Eliza to the kitchen. Dinner was to be fish sticks with mashed potatoes and peas. “I made the mashed potatoes this morning at the crack of dawn; they’re in a bowl in the fridge. Have the girls shell the peas. Fish sticks in the freezer—read the instructions, they’ll go in the microwave—and oh gosh, here’s Dan.”
The Volvo had just pulled into the driveway. Eliza pushed open a kitchen window and called, “I’ll be out in a sec!” then turned back to Lina. “I know I’m over-sharing, but what I just said, that I’m close to being the person I was? That’s really not true. Not true at all. I’ll never be that person again. And I don’t know why I’m burdening you with this.”
“It’s okay.”
“Our lives are in a… a flurry. Everything’s been coming at us too fast. The church is not what we expected and—oh gosh, I meant to change, but now I guess I can’t. Any questions for me?”
“Think I’m okay.”
“We’re not going to be late. Everyone has school tomorrow. We’re seeing a counselor, Mary Cantwell, Mary C., on the list of numbers that’s by the phone. We’ll probably get a bite afterwards. The Mexican food here is so different than in California! I love it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I love the way you Texas girls ma’am me, only it makes me feel about seventy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lina smiled. Eliza Calhoun took a step forward, gave her a brief hug, and dashed out of the house.
***
After the girls finished homework, they trooped downstairs and she set them to shelling peas in the kitchen. It was a different energy than her first night with them because they were tired from school. SAC was supposed to be a very rigorous K-12 school. Their Lions were always a good team. Kids from SAC went on to famous colleges.
“You know what I think?” she said to the girls.
They all looked at her.
“After supper, maybe after you’ve had a bath, we ought to draw each other. Do you guys have any art supplies?”
“We have drawing pads,” Jennifer said.
“We each have our own one,” said Harriet. “Mine’s red.”
“And pencils,” Paula said.
“And crayons,” Harriet said.
“Also, I have charcoal sticks,” Jennifer said.
“Great. After supper, everyone should pick one of us to draw, then draw that person.”
“I want to draw you,” said Paula.
“Me too,” said Harriet.
“Well, it’s up to you. What about you?” she asked Jennifer.
“I don’t know. See what I feel like.”
They were quiet at the table. They had good table manners. What would it have been like to have a sister? Jake had been a good brother, mostly. Kind. Sharing his stuff and looking out for her at the playground. He and their mother had never been close, though. Carolina tried too hard for his attention and complained that Jake did not love her.
“He does!” Lina told her. “He’s not a girl, mama, he just doesn’t show it the same way.”
“He has that coldness, that’s the Fitzhugh family, they’re all like that. Except your grandpa! He was a love! And a gentleman! How I loved that man!”
After dinner, the three girls helped clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher. They were accustomed to chores, and it didn’t take long. Lina discovered a frosted-up carton of Ben & Jerry’s Vanilla Caramel Fudge buried in the back of the freezer, and after she’d scraped the icy layer off the top of the ice cream, there was enough for everyone to have one large spoonful. Then they went upstairs for their baths. Jennifer used the shower in the parents’ bathroom, and Paula and Harriet shared the bathtub while Lina knelt on the floor and shampooed their hair. She’d had to take a babysitting course at Roundstone to be allowed to put her name on the list of approved babysitters, and Rule #1 in babysitting was never leave little kids alone in the bath; they could drown in an instant in a few inches of water.
Harriet and Paula weren’t that little, but it was smart to be cautious. Harriet had two Barbies in the tub, not the kind meant for water. Also, a plastic unicorn, plastic cups and plastic spoons from a tea set—there were lots of plastic bobbing and floating around. Paula had goggles. She went underwater pretending to be a shark and pinched Harriet’s bum. Harriet screamed and splashed. They were good at having fun together. The sisters loved each other. You could tell.
They got into pajamas, and she sat on the toilet seat and combed out their hair, Harriet’s then Paula’s, responding to occasional ouches! by being even gentler with the combing, just as Carolina used to do.
“Can you braid us?” Paula asked.
“Best to let your hair breathe while you sleep.” What her mama used to say.
“Can we do drawing?” Harriet asked.
“Sure.”
The little girls went burrowing into their room to gather drawing pads, pencils and crayons. Jennifer’s door was partly open, and Lina looked in. She was in bed, under the covers, knees up, reading.
“We’re going to do drawing if you’re up for it.”
“Okay.”
They all came downstairs and sat at the kitchen table. “Do you have drawing paper for me?” Lina asked, and Jennifer carefully tore some sheets from her own drawing pad and offered them. “Okay, there are no rules in art. Draw whatever or whoever you want. It was my idea for you to start by drawing each other, but if you have a better idea, go for it.”
She and Jake used to go upstairs and draw each other when their parents were downstairs, not getting along. Not getting along meant fighting, which usually meant not speaking. They fought by going silent. James Bowie Fitzhugh never raised his voice, and his silences always outlasted Carolina’s. When Carolina finally exploded, yelling and sobbing, it was the signal for James to up and leave the house, while Lina and Jake stayed upstairs, drawing each other over and over, using pencils and charcoal sticks and sketch pads that their father bought at the art supplies store because he himself liked to draw sometimes and was good at it.
“Everyone can draw!” he told them. “Some humans do it better than others, but drawing is natural for all of us, like walking or talking, if you just give yourself permission to do it.”
She had been about the same age then as Paula now; Jake was around ten. Why had drawing each other meant so much? They were concerned that they were going to lose their family and lose each other. Drawing Jake was a way of keeping him. Maybe he’d felt the same about drawing her. Where were those drawings now, dozens of them? Maybe trashed. Or rolled up and stuffed in a box in the attic of Susie’s house, or Grandma Charlene’s.
Harriet used crayons. Paula and Lina used pencils, and Jennifer had a charcoal stick. When it came time to show their drawings, Harriet and Paula had both drawn Lina, and she and Jennifer had drawn each other. Jennifer’s drawing was a bare sketch, but something in the lines allowed Lina to see herself. Angular. Too skinny. Restless, worried girl.
“No one drew me,” Harriet complained.
“Me neither,” said Paula.
“Okay, let’s do it again,” Lina said. “Draw someone different. I’m going to do both of you.”
The second round of drawings was wilder and looser, more cartoony. Everyone could draw, but it took practice to develop the hand connected to the eye that connected you in an almost magic way to the subject. Drawing a person was like drawing water from a well. Drawing up something significant—when it worked. Something flowing between you.
She drew both younger girls. They loved her drawings.
Jennifer showed a bold, raw little sketch of a teenage girl.
“Is that me again?” Lina said.
“No. Sorry. It’s my sister. It’s Anne.”
***
She tucked Paula and Harriet in, read a few pages of Charlotte’s Web, kissed them on their foreheads and wished them lovely dreams. Jennifer’s door had been left a little bit open, and Lina stuck her head in. She was in bed, under the covers, knees up, reading.
“I’m okay,” the girl said.
“Okay. Good night.”
“Harriet and Paula, they’re so hungry.”
“Really? Didn’t y’all get enough to eat—”
“I mean, they want our sister back; they’re hungry for her. That’s why they’re pretending you’re her.”
“Well, I’m not trying to be her,” Lina said. “I’m just Lina Fitzhugh, the neighborhood babysitter.”
“Kind of a funny-sounding last name, but it fits you.”
“Well, it’s the only one I have.”
Jennifer smiled. “Fitzhugh fits you.”
It was nearly ten o’clock when Lina heard the Volvo turning into the driveway. Eliza and Daniel came in the front door together. They both looked… weary. They did not look happy.
“How did it go, Lina? Was everything okay?” Eliza asked. “I’m sorry we’ve kept you late on a school night. Everything went a bit longer than we expected. After we had dinner, we took a long walk along the river, and I guess we lost track of time. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. School’s almost over now anyway.”
“Shall I drive Lina home?” Daniel asked his wife.
“No, I will. Go to bed, Dan. Pay Lina first.”
He took two twenties from his wallet and offered them to her. “Is that right?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t—I can’t give—I don’t have any ones.”
“Don’t worry about it, we’re good.”
“Thank you, sir.” She turned to Eliza. “We had a nice time. They’ll show you the drawings they did.”
She said goodbye to Daniel, then followed Eliza out to the Volvo.
“It’s a really nice car.”
“Brand-new when we left California.”
Backing out of the driveway, Eliza started to turn the car the wrong way.
“Other way,” Lina said.
“Sorry.” Eliza corrected, and they drove the darkened streets of Tierra Linda, past the houses with their televisions glowing blue light.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
Eliza glanced at her. “Why do you ask?”
“Sorry. You seem kind of… hurt.”
Eliza didn’t say anything for a little while. Then, “I suppose I am. I suppose I’m not. These sessions we’re doing are rough. Honesty can be rough. It was a kind of brutal evening, to tell you the truth. A lot of anger spilled. Maybe that’s what’s supposed to happen. I don’t know, Lina.”
“Is being angry supposed to help?”
“It’s not going to bring our daughter back.”
There was nothing to say to that.
“The reason we have a nice car,” Eliza said, “is our old car was wrecked. The insurance man told Dan that Anne would have survived had we been in a Volvo, they have better side-impact protection. So now we have a Volvo. Which we can’t afford.”
Lina didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
“We went to a bar,” Eliza said, “after our therapy thing. They had these puffy tacos—have you ever had puffy tacos? It got very noisy. The people were line-dancing. Looks like fun, but we sure weren’t in the mood. That’s when we took our river walk.
“Listen, Lina, we’re going to need some extra help when school is over. I plan on taking two pre-law classes at St. Mary’s over the summer, and we’re going to desperately need someone to help manage the girls. They seem very attached to you already.”
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
Eliza was crying. Not making any sounds, but tears were shining on her cheek. She attempted a smile. “I sure do want to be okay.”
She turned onto Ferndale and pulled up in front of Roger’s. No lights were on inside. No TV glow. Of course, they had forgotten to leave the front door light on for her.
“Lina, would you ever consider working for us this summer? I mean full-time, five or six days a week? And perhaps some weekends. Maybe sleeping over some nights. Would that interest you at all?”
“Yes.”
“Of course, you’ll need to check in with your parents first, and they might want to talk to us, to me and Dan. We can all sit down together.”
“My mother isn’t really up for talking right now. She’s been sick. She’s getting better, but she’s not all better.”
“I understand, Lina. These things take time. And I’m so glad your mother’s getting better. I still would like to check in with her, though, before we take you over for the summer. Perhaps she can give me a call when she’s feeling better? Do you have our number?”
“No.”
Eliza took a stub of pencil from the cup-holder and wrote the number down. “The girls will be thrilled if this works out. When does school end for you?”
“First week of June. It’s longer this year on account of the storms.”
Eliza leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you!”
The Volvo was driving away down the street when Lina realized she hadn’t asked how much she’d be getting paid for full-time childcare. They would pay her, right? A salary. Earning money over the summer was important. Maybe it wasn’t the most important thing. The Calhouns had been wounded, struck by tragedy, yet she sensed there was a kind of magic surrounding them. The three girls, anyway. She would like to be inside that circle.
