Page 49 of Starlight & Dark Nights

So putting her fingers to her typewriter and getting anything productive done has been a challenge. She's tried repeatedly to find a new story, a new angle, and to get excited about the fact that Mr. Snell has asked her for fifty pages of something new, but the longer she goes without producing anything, the more worried Jo feels that she mightneverbe able to write anything again.

"Mom?" Jimmy calls from the hallway.

Jo is standing in the front room, re-shelving the vinyl albums that have been sitting next to the turntable.

"Yes, honey?"

"Do you know where my red and black striped shirt is?" Jo's lanky teenage son calls back. Jimmy has grown so much this past year, and now he's the same height as Jo, which always throws her. In addition, he's started to request that they call him Jim, rather than Jimmy, though both Jo and Bill forget most of the time.

"I folded it this afternoon," Jo says as she sets an album back on the console. "Let me find it."

It's these small tasks--these minuscule moments of motherhood--that make up Jo's days. Sure, she's carved out a corner of life for herself through her volunteering, and yes, she's even felt a flicker of some sort of joyful independence through her writing, but being a mother is and has always been the most important facet of her life.

As she pulls the laundry basket from its place atop the dryer, Jo reaches into the pile and pulls out her son's shirt. It's as she's holding it in her hands that she realizes how fleeting time is; before she knows it, Jimmy--Jim--will be driving. He'll ask to borrow the car. He'll have a girlfriend he'd rather spend time with than his own family. He'll graduate high school and leave for college. And who will he be when she's all done raising him? Who willshebe when she's done raising her children?

The existential questions come hard and fast, and, without expecting it, Jo is suddenly crying as she stands before the dryer, holding her son's shirt. In her own mind, time is flying by, and suddenly she pictures herself with gray hair, standing here in the same spot, folding a basket of laundry that's much smaller without the dresses, shirts, socks, and pajamas of her children.

"Mommy?" Kate asks, touching Jo's back with her small hand. "Are you okay?"

Jo turns and looks down at her youngest daughter. "Oh, yes, sweetheart. I'm fine. I'm good." Jo forces a smile and wipes at her eyes. "Go jump into bed, okay? I'll be right there to read you some stories. I promise."

Kate does as she's asked, and Jo takes the shirt to Jimmy, rapping lightly at his door and then handing it to him when he opens it. He stands there in just a pair of pajama pants, his narrow ribcage visible as he towels off his damp hair.

"Thanks, Mom. Goodnight," Jimmy says, closing the door again. Even this is like a knife in Jo's heart, the simple fact that her little boy no longer needs or wants her to tuck him in. She sighs and stands there for a moment, wondering what it would feel like to be in Maxine's shoes, just starting all over with a brand-new baby. Or even in Frankie's shoes, as she prays for a first pregnancy to complete her little family with Ed.

"Okay, Kate," Jo calls out. "I'm coming. I hope you have stories picked out for us!"

She passes by Nancy's room, pausing in the doorway to look in at her daughter as she lays in her bed, holding up a book that blocks Jo's view of her face. Jo stands there for a moment, reveling in the peaceful feeling that comes with having all of her kids there, safe, and doing what they're supposed to be doing. It's when she climbs into bed with Kate and starts to read the first book that she hears the front door open and close. Bill is home, and suddenly, that feeling of a pill that's stuck in her throat returns.

Jo swallows around it and keeps reading.

CHAPTER22

Jude

The callfrom Harrison Watts comes at noon on a Tuesday in early June. Hope and Faith are out of school for the summer, and Jude has been in control of her drinking for months. There are evenings when she’d love to pour a second cocktail, and surely there are days where something will flare up inside of her and her first thought is: “Mix a quick drink and relax,” but she’s done well. She’s proud of herself. She feels strong.

“Mrs. Majors,” Harrison Watts nearly growls into her ear over the phone. “I’ve got news for you.”

Jude watches the twins as they run out the front door to play in the yard. It’s hot and humid and horrible out there, but children don’t ever seem to notice such things. Sticky weather?Let’s play! Pouring rain?Time to jump in puddles! Snow?Let’s get out there and catch some frostbite! She smiles as they plonk down in the thick grass with their dolls.

“Mr. Harrison,” Jude says. She’s standing near the phone in the kitchen, one hand in the pocket of her pleated skirt. “I’m ready.”

But is she? Jude’s heart is thumping madly—galloping like wild horses in her chest—and the edges of her vision are going white. She pulls a chair over to the counter and sits down so that she won’t pass out.

One last memory of Catherine has been in her mind recently, and she hopes against all hope that the news Harrison Watts is about to give her isn’t bad news.

Catherine, maybe twenty-three at the time, had asked Jude to attend a funeral with her. An actress she’d known in Hollywood had been dating the head of a major studio when she’d been found dead in Laurel Canyon. The circumstances were mysterious and suspicious, but no foul play was indicated by the authorities. Jude and Catherine had dressed in black and taken a taxi to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

It was October, and the sunlight was softened. The trees felt on the cusp of turning, and everything was autumnal.

“What do we thinkreallyhappened?” a semi-famous actor whispered to the man with him. “Strangled? Stabbed? And they actually want us to believe there was no foul play?”

“We all know that he’s married,” the other man whispered back. “And that the wife’s family isconnected.” He says “connected” as if there are air quotes around the word.

“Mmm,” said the actor, shaking his head with pity. “Such a shame.”

“Always find yourself someone you can go out with in public, otherwise you’re in a dangerous relationship,” the second man said as they gazed right at each other.

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