That Summer Night

Part Three

2008

“Honey!” Trixie’s voice almost echoed through the phone line, causing Honey to move it a little away from her ear. “You won’t believe what I’ve found out.”

Three days had passed since Honey’s conversation with Brian, when he had mentioned that his sister would do some digging.

“About Brian Wellington?” she prompted.

Trixie let out a disgruntled sound. “No. About Knut.”

Honey pulled out a chair from the dining table and sat down. “You know where he is?”

“No. Or, at least, not yet.”

A argument had boiled up between the cousins long ago. They eventually made peace with Cap and Hallie, but none of the Sleepyside Beldens had seen or heard from Knut in over thirty-two years.

“Then what did you find out?” Honey demanded. “Because, obviously, I’m not going to be able to guess.”

“You really won’t.” Trixie drew a breath. “So, first – I won’t bore you with the details of how I got on to her – but I tracked down his first ex-wife.”

“His what?”

“First ex-wife,” she repeated. “Gloria. We met her brother in Idaho, remember? That time we went camping?”

“They weren’t married then; they were just teenagers, not much older than we were,” Honey answered, frowning. “But yes, I remember him vaguely and hearing about her. What did she tell you?”

“Nothing much that directly relates to what we’re looking at,” Trixie admitted, “but she put me in touch with his second ex-wife.”

Honey groaned. “How many ex-wives does he have?”

“I’ll tell you when I find out,” Trixie promised. “Anyway, I had a chat with the second wife – she’s called Anne-Marie and she lives in Massachusetts and breeds angora rabbits – and she hasn’t heard from him since he left her in 1983. But she knew the name of his third ex-wife and enough details about her that I could track her down.”

“So, what did she say?”

“That was a really difficult conversation.” Some of the enthusiasm had drained out of Trixie’s voice. “He left her for someone else after their baby died.”

“Oh, no! What happened?”

“They don’t really know. It was 1985. They put it down as SIDS. But she told me he’d been sick for a while before that, but the doctor wouldn’t believe her – no one believed her, not even when he died.” She sighed. “It made her cry, talking about it. But she knew how to contact the woman Knut went to after her, because it was her brother’s wife’s sister.”

“That’s awful.”

“Which bit?”

“All of it.” Honey frowned. “Maybe it would have seemed different if I’d witnessed it myself, but Knut doesn’t sound like a very nice man; not at all the way I remember him.”

Trixie made a non-committal noise. “According to Gloria, he had a lot of unresolved emotions to do with his father’s death and he was still grieving deeply when their marriage ended. According to Anne-Marie, he had trouble dealing with change and pretty much went to pieces when their dog died. According to Elizabeth – that’s the third wife – he just shut down emotionally and pretended that nothing was wrong, but really he was in a really bad place. And according to her brother’s wife’s sister, whose name is Carla, his health went to pieces and then he had a nervous break-down and landed in a psychiatric facility.”

“You’re suggesting there were mitigating circumstances.” Honey frowned some more. “I’m not sure that really excuses his behaviour.”

“I don’t think it does, either,” Trixie answered, slowly, “but all three of the ex-wives and the ex-girlfriend I spoke to don’t seem to be holding grudges against him. They all sounded sorry for him, more than anything. The most hostile was Anne-Marie and that was because he didn’t tell her about the dog dying and let her find out when she rang the vet to ask when she could pick it up.”

“Does it get worse than that? Because this is feeling a lot like a downward spiral.”

“Not really. At least, not so far as I know. Because Carla didn’t know what happened to Knut after he got out of hospital. Except that Hallie was the one who picked him up.”

“Hallie!”

“We always knew that she and Cap were in touch with him, at least some of the time,” Trixie pointed out. “And anyway, that’s not the important part.”

“Then, what is?”

“Before she picked him up, Hallie went to Carla’s house, where Knut had been living, to pick up his belongings and they found, while cleaning out the bathroom, that the prescription medicine he was taking was actually prescribed to his mother and someone had kind of smudged something over everything between the ‘K’ and the ‘n’ to make it look like ‘Knutson’.”

Honey’s brow creased. “But her name was Elaine. There are no Ks in Elaine.”

“Elaine was her middle name. Her first name was actually Kersten and that’s what would be on the label, even though she was never called that. I’m not sure whether I even knew that before her funeral.”

“I didn’t go,” Honey recalled, after a moment’s thought. “I couldn’t, for some reason, but I can’t even remember why.”

“I think you were sick,” Trixie told her. “And so was Knut – which was a relief, in a way, considering what happened at his father’s funeral.”

“I didn’t go to that, either.” Honey pushed the thought of that time away. “But I still don’t think I understand what it is that’s so important that you found out.”

“Knut suggested that Brian thought that Knut’s father had been unfaithful,” Trixie explained. “He’s the one who brought up the possibility that it might have been him, or Uncle Andrew, or Dad. And I thought for a while it was because he thought it was really his father – who wasn’t around to defend himself – who got Sally pregnant. But what if that wasn’t it? What if he made that suggestion to distract from something else entirely; something that had nothing to do with Sally and everything to do with Knut?”

“That does kind of make sense,” Honey answered, slowly. “But I still don’t see what that something might have been.”

“That’s what I need to find out,” Trixie admitted. “I just don’t know, yet, how I’m going to do it.”

1976

Honey stared at her folded hands, which lay in her lap. Beside her, Trixie gazed out the school bus window in silence. Today marked Trixie’s first day back at school after her uncle’s funeral and Honey did not know what to say. Her best friend had barely said a word the whole time they had been sitting next to each other.

“I’d never been to a funeral before,” Trixie confided, at length. “I don’t suppose they’re all like that.”

Honey’s hand twitched in her lap. “I’ve only ever been to one, so I don’t suppose I’m anyone to judge, but I guess we could compare notes if you wanted to, or maybe you don’t want to talk about it.”

Trixie turned away from the window. “The service was okay. I don’t think there was anything strange about that – except that I don’t think the minister had ever met Uncle Harold while he was alive. Why do people say things about dead people that they obviously don’t mean?”

“I suppose they think it makes things easier on people,” Honey mused, feeling the urge to babble, but trying to keep it under control. “You can’t exactly say, ‘We’re here to remember John Smith, who was a crabby, old grouch and never had a kind word for anyone,’ can you? It wouldn’t be polite and it might hurt Mrs. Smith’s feelings.”

Beside her, Trixie cracked a smile. “If the dead person really was like that, probably no one would mind.”

“Not that your uncle was like that,” Honey hurried to add. “He always seemed quite pleasant – not that I met him very often.”

“He was always too busy.” She frowned at the back of the seat in front. “He spent most of his time working and what did it get him? A stroke! And people saying things about him that sounded nothing like him. He always seemed like… I don’t know… more than what they were saying. Not as nice, but bigger, somehow.”

Honey nodded. “It’s really hard to describe a person. You think you know them, and you know so much about them, but you can’t ever tell someone else about them, at least, not enough for them to know them, too.”

“And then there’s the people you think you know, who then go and do things you’d never think they’d do,” Trixie added, darkly.

A chill ran through Honey. “What do you mean?”

“Well, after the service, they took the coffin out and people started talking to other people and I don’t even know how what happened next even started happening.” She shook her head, as if trying to figure something out. “All I know is that I followed my older brothers towards our cousins and one of them said something that I didn’t hear and either Cap or Knut said something back and the next thing I know, they’re arguing like anything.”

“Actually at the funeral?”

Trixie nodded. “And that brother we don’t talk about tried to calm things down – you know how he is – and Moms and Aunt Elaine stepped in, too, but it just got worse and worse.”

“But between who?” Honey asked. “I don’t understand. And you’d better actually use his name for once, because this isn’t making any sense at all.”

“Cap and Knut and Mart and Brian and even Hallie and me,” Trixie told her, in a voice filled with shame. “And I don’t even really know what it was about, it just kind of caught us all in, right up until–”

“Until what?”

Trixie hesitated a moment. “Until Knut punched Brian in the face.”

2008

“What’s wrong?”

Brian looked up from his laptop, alarmed, perhaps by the tone of her voice. “Nothing. I was just thinking.”

Honey took a breath to calm herself. “Are you sure? Because you were looking very serious – no, more than serious; more like grim, and I–”

“No, there’s nothing wrong.” He gestured to the seat beside himself and she sat down. “I called Brian Wellington and asked him a few questions.”

“What did he say?”

He rubbed at his temples. “Your guess was right: there is a child. And he is worried about that child’s health.”

“Did you tell him what was wrong?”

“How on earth would I do that, Honey?” He shook his head. “I don’t know anything, yet. I have a theory, but it’s not much more than a guess.”

“But you told him what it was?”

He sighed. “I gave him my recommendation for what tests he should have done. And I told him how to go about getting them and roughly how much they would cost.”

“Will he be able to afford them?” she asked, brow creasing with the thought that he might not.

“I think so,” he answered. “He didn’t say anything to imply that he wouldn’t.”

“But should the family be helping him?” she persisted.

Slowly, Brian shook his head. “If I’m right… well, the overwhelming probability is that the Sleepyside Beldens are excluded.”

Honey rolled her eyes. “Yes, but since I believe you when you say it wasn’t you, and when you say you’re certain it wasn’t your father, and considering the fact that I told you already that it couldn’t possibly be Mart, well, we knew that already, because the three of you were the only ones old enough at the time.”

“If you’d let me finish, I was going to say that Uncle Andrew would also be excluded, and so would Uncle Harold. If I’m right.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “That only leaves Cap and Knut.”

He nodded. “I have no proof of this whatsoever, but I suspect that Aunt Elaine’s last illness might hold the key to this whole situation.”

She frowned. “They never really told us what was wrong with her. I always assumed cancer, but maybe I was wrong.”

“I don’t think it was cancer.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “But I don’t know how much to reveal, since she obviously wanted it all kept quiet.”

She took his hand in hers. “Take something for your headache and don’t worry about my curiosity.”

He raised her hand to his lips and got up to do as she told him.

1976

“It’s gotten worse,” Trixie announced in a low voice, when she and Honey met on the morning school bus. “Now, Aunt Elaine isn’t talking to any of us. And Uncle Andrew is kind of siding with their side of the argument – though, he told Dad that it was just because he thought they needed a connection to our side of the family and not that he thought their version of what happened was the right one.”

“I don’t even know what their side is. Or your side.” Honey shook her head. “I don’t think I even really understand any of it.”

“Neither do I.” Trixie let out a sigh. “Because I’m certain that none of us said any of the things that Knut says that we said. You just don’t go up to someone who’s just lost their father and suggest that he’d been seeing someone else.”

“That’s what he said you said?”

Trixie nodded. “I’m pretty sure that either Brian or Mart actually said something like ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ which is what Moms told us was the right kind of thing to say, and I don’t see how you could read anything like that into those words.”

“No.” Honey thought for a moment. “So, what are your parents going to do?”

“I don’t know!” Her best friend’s brow creased. “Things were already kind of strained after Knut’s horrible party – what with the drunkenness and the horrible mess and all the things we couldn’t find afterwards.”

“What things?” Honey asked.

“Didn’t I tell you?” She looked surprised. “While we were cleaning up, there were things missing – the clock in the living room, some of the silverware, even that little table in the den that Moms keeps a house plant on. It all turned up eventually, but it took a week or so to find where everything had gone. I don’t even know where they were. Dad said we shouldn’t talk about the party too much, but he meant in the family, not with you.”

“I didn’t really want to talk about it, right after it happened, but I’m okay now.”

“Anyway, Aunt Elaine’s version is that Brian and Mart and I made a disturbance at the funeral and our side is that naturally people were upset and it was all some kind of weird misunderstanding, but no matter how hard I think about it, I can’t figure out how it happened.”

“It’s all very strange,” Honey answered.

“And now Sally is saying that Dan might be her baby’s father and that he’d better marry her, but I don’t believe her for a minute,” Trixie added. “I think, if it really did happen at the party, it must have been one of Knut’s friends and she just didn’t know his name, so she’s blaming anyone she can identify who was there.”

Honey shuddered. “Maybe.”

But deep inside, she still felt certain that it had been Brian.

2008

“Brian?” Honey asked, in the darkness as they both lay in bed.

“Hmm?”

“The oddest thought came to me today.” She hesitated, unsure of whether she really should share it. “It made me wonder if I was remembering things right, or if maybe I imagined some of them.”

He sighed, almost silently. “What don’t you remember?”

“Well, some of it is things that I noticed myself – if I really did notice them – and some of it was things that I’ve been told.” She frowned up at the ceiling, which she couldn’t actually see. “First, did Knut have something wrong with his knee? At the party, I mean.”

Her husband paused to think. “Not that I remember. But there’s nothing conclusive about that.”

Her frown deepened. “That was the last time I ever saw him. I don’t think I’m imagining it.”

“I only saw him once after that and it was at Uncle Harold’s funeral,” Brian answered.

“He forced that argument onto you, didn’t he?” Honey blurted out. “The way Trixie told it at the time, it never made sense, but now I think that’s the only explanation.”

A long silence ensued.

“I’ve always thought so,” he admitted, at last. “At the time, I thought it was just the grief. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through.”

“But now you think he had another motive.”

“I don’t really know what it could be, but yes.”

She sighed. “He wanted to make sure that there was no contact between your family and his. I think that must be it.”

“Because of Sally’s pregnancy,” Brian added. “That’s one possible explanation.”

Honey shook her head, even though he couldn’t see it. “I don’t think that’s it. The baby hadn’t been born yet. None of you had any way of knowing that he was really a Belden.”

“If Knut slept with her, or if he knew that Cap had–”

“But did they even know about the baby?” she interrupted. “Because Sally didn’t know them, she only knew us. And I don’t imagine your parents told your uncle and aunt that the whole situation was happening.”

Again, he paused to think. “I don’t know if they knew. But I suspect you’re right and they didn’t.”

“Which would mean that he was thinking about something else altogether,” she went on. “And what if the really critical thing he needed was to keep you away from himself?”

“Why would he want to do that, Honey? We hardly saw each other as it was.”

“But you were doing pre-med,” she pointed out. “And you were always so interested in health-related topics. And you might have noticed things about him that he didn’t want you to notice. Things that might have started adding up to something as you gained more knowledge and experience.”

“If you’re referring to my theory about what Brian Wellington is looking for, I’m still not prepared to share very much about it,” he warned. “Just the basic outline as I first saw it: that it’s an inherited condition of no more than moderate severity, quite possibly dominant, but probably not x-linked, and which does not cause distinctive cranio-facial deformities, or other easily-spotted symptoms. And if that is true, no amount of medical knowledge would allow me to guess what it would be from purely casual contact.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” she answered, “though it’s nice to hear you say that, because I was imagining horrible things.”

He sighed. “Of the multitudes of inherited conditions, there are many that are horrible. But if there is one manifesting in Aunt Elaine’s family, I don’t believe it’s among those.”

“Good.” She wondered anew whether to share her thought. “I was actually wondering if he thought you were on the verge of discovering that he had a drug dependency.”

1976

“Summer, at last,” Diana almost moaned, as she lay down on a picnic blanket in the shade in the Beldens’ back yard. “I hardly believed it was really true when I woke up this morning. I thought school this year would last forever.”

“I know,” Honey answered. “I almost thought it might have been the worst school-year I’ve ever had, only then I remembered all those years before I met either of you and of course those were so much worse, but it’s definitely the worst since then, by far.”

“Definitely,” Trixie added. She rolled over onto her side. “So, what are we going to do today? I’d like to swim in the lake a bit later. Maybe we could have a cook-out up there this evening.”

Di groaned. “I was planning on laying here for hours and hours and then driving back home to lay in front of the TV. I don’t have the energy to do anything.”

“If it wasn’t just the three of us, I’d agree to the cook-out idea.” Honey tried to find a way to soften the blow. “A swim does sound good, though I’m not sure it’s really hot enough today. Maybe we could ride this evening, when it cools off.”

Trixie nodded, but her best friend could see the barely-concealed discontentment. She tried desperately to think of an idea that might stir up a little bit of excitement, but found her mind completely blank. The trouble was, she mused, all three of them felt just a little bit abandoned since Mart and Dan left on their post-graduation road trip and Jim and Brian went off to their summer jobs.

“That’s funny.” Di’s voice held a note of puzzlement as it interrupted Honey’s thoughts. “Does anyone near here own a cat? I could’ve sworn I just heard one.”

“I think it’s a bird,” Trixie answered. “See? There it is again.”

Honey scrambled to her feet and took a few, tentative steps towards the house. A horrible certainty washed over her: the sound was made by neither cat nor bird. She began to walk at a slow, steady pace.

“Hey! Wait for us,” Trixie urged, though she could catch up in just a couple of steps.

Honey barely noticed them both following her across the yard and onto the back porch. By the time she had her hand on the door, they could all hear the voices – one low and calm and the other high and shrill. Overlaid above them both, the sound repeated.

“Oh. It’s a baby.” Trixie sounded almost disappointed. “Maybe Sally has had hers. I don’t think I know anyone else it might be. But why is she even here?”

“Maybe she’s looking for Brian,” Di suggested.

“But we’re not expecting him back all summer,” Trixie pointed out.

Honey could almost hear Di rolling her eyes. “Sally doesn’t know that!”

“Are we going in, or not?” Trixie asked, setting the previous discussion aside.

Taking a breath, Honey opened the door and stepped inside. She followed the sound through to the living room, where sure enough, Sally Wellington stood, holding a tiny, unhappy baby.

“What do you want?” Sally snapped.

Honey took an involuntary step backwards, which let Trixie take the lead in the group.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, lifting her chin.

“Trixie,” her mother warned.

A wave of irritation washed over Trixie’s face, but was gone in a moment.

“May we see your baby?” Di asked, in a tentative voice. “Is it a boy, or a girl?”

As Di walked forward, Sally’s face softened. “It’s a boy.”

Honey almost held her breath as Diana asked for, and received, a hold. She watched the new mother awkwardly transfer her child into Di’s arms and listened as Di explained how to do it more easily. She noticed the look of approval on Mrs. Belden’s face.

And in that moment, she remembered that Sally had lost her mother several years ago. Maybe she had no one to turn to for help with this bewildering new person for whom she now bore sole responsibility. Maybe she needed all the help she could get. Maybe –

Her thoughts broke off as Di asked, “What have you called him?”

“I named him Brian. After his father,” Sally answered, with a challenging tilt to her head.

And Honey’s heart sank.

2008

“Now, hold on just a minute there,” Brian urged. “A drug dependency? That’s quite a leap.”

“Yes, but it makes sense,” Honey argued. “Because he did hurt his knee at some point, didn’t he? Really badly? He might have had painkillers for that, mightn’t he? And he might not have wanted to stop. And when he went into the hospital years later, he had his mother’s prescription for something. And he quite possibly stole a whole lot of stuff from your house, which he might have sold for money to buy drugs.”

“He might have what? Honey, where are you getting these ideas?”

She sighed and tried to gather her thoughts. “I think I’ve known some of it for years. Not overtly, if you see what I mean, but under the surface. There were things that happened around the time of that party that I was too naïve to understand, but when I knew more, they sort of appeared in my understanding.”

“Okay, I think I see what you mean,” he answered, slowly, “but I still don’t see where this theory came from. I was there, remember, and I don’t think I saw, heard, or experienced anything which would lead me to the same conclusions.”

“I remember a sense of wrongness,” she explained. “At Crabapple Farm, I mean. Not actually during the party, but the next day, and for a little while afterwards. And then, later, Trixie told me that things had been missing, but came back and she didn’t know how.”

He remained still and silent for a long moment. “The clock in the living room.”

“Yes. And some other things I don’t remember, but they were all fairly small and portable. And probably saleable.”

She felt him shake his head against the pillow. “That doesn’t make sense. There must be some other explanation. Maybe the clock got broken and Dad had it fixed. And the other things were just misplaced.”

“Or, maybe your parents guessed what Knut had done and tracked down where he’d sold the things and quietly bought them back,” she replied. “Because if that happened to you, wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Probably,” he admitted, at last. “But that’s still not evidence that he had a prescription drug problem. There’s not even evidence that it was him.”

“Oh, I never said I had evidence.” She settled a little more comfortably. “I have no evidence whatsoever. In fact, I’m not even sure I’m remembering things correctly, which is where I started on this whole conversation, if you remember.”

“I could talk to Moms or Dad,” he offered, but she heard the note of reluctance in his voice.

“Maybe it would be better if I spoke to them myself,” she answered. “I think that’s what I’ll do.”

1977

“Only five weeks and four days to go.” Trixie repeated the phrase several times as she walked to the school parking lot, where Honey’s car awaited. “And I might even survive, though right now I doubt it.”

“It’s not quite that bad,” Honey answered, more because she felt she should than from any belief in what she was saying. “Just think how much closer to graduating we are now, compared to back in September.”

“If I graduate.” Trixie collapsed into the front passenger seat. “I just spent fifteen minutes listening to Miss Hooper lecturing us on what happens if we don’t keep our English grades up. And she kept looking straight at me!”

Honey started the engine. “I’m sure you’re going to be fine.”

“Hey, aren’t we waiting for Di?”

Honey shook her head then looked over her shoulder to reverse. “She’s got a dentist appointment.”

Trixie screwed up her nose. “That’s even worse than English!”

“So, do you have time to ride this afternoon? Or do you have too much homework?”

Her best friend groaned loudly. “I wish I had time to ride. But every single teacher I have has set homework for tonight and they all expect it by tomorrow.”

“I would say that I’m sure that Regan understands, only I’m sure that he doesn’t understand,” Honey answered, “because he never did graduate from high school, so he never did the thing that we’re trying to do now.”

“It didn’t do him any harm,” Trixie replied, rather gloomily. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m torturing myself with high school and then going to college when I could have just gone and got a job.”

“But it will probably be worth it, when you’ve finished,” Honey pointed out. “You’ll get a better job then than you otherwise could have. Or, at least, I suppose that’s how it’s supposed to work, because I don’t think I can think of a better job for Regan than the one he has.”

“But I don’t think that either of us would be happy with his job, so maybe you’re right.” Trixie seemed to have bounced back to her usual cheerful self. “Say, did I tell you what happened in home room this morning?”

The anecdote involved a lot of explanatory details and lasted them all the way back to Crabapple Farm. Honey eased up the driveway just as Trixie was finishing and stopped behind another, unfamiliar vehicle.

“I wonder whose that is?” Trixie jumped out and grabbed her book bag. “Come on in for a cookie. You’ll need the energy.”

Honey smiled and switched off the engine. “I’d never say no to your mother’s cookies.”

She followed her friend into the house, but Trixie’s greeting died on her lips. She spun on her heels and rushed straight back out of the house, pushing past Honey on the way. Honey stared after her for a shocked moment then raced to catch up.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, as Trixie reached the edge of the back yard and plunged onto the path that led to the clubhouse.

“Sally’s in there. And her baby.” Trixie stopped walking and clutched at her curls. “He was sitting on Moms’ lap. And he looks exactly like Brian. When he was a baby, I mean. There’s a photo of Moms and Brian that’s just like what I just saw.”

“Babies do look awfully like other babies,” Honey tried to soothe, though her heart beat harder than usual. “Maybe you just remembered the photo and kind of imagined the resemblance.”

Trixie shook her head. “No, I’m sure that I didn’t. Oh, Honey!” she wailed. “I was so sure that she was lying, that it was one of Knut’s friends and she just didn’t know his name. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was one of my brothers, or one of my cousins?”

Honey considered the matter for a moment. “Has anyone asked your cousins?”

“They both say it wasn’t them.” Trixie rolled her eyes. “And Knut, when Dad talked to him, got all offended and tried to make out that Dad was suggesting that Uncle Harold was responsible, which is just about the most disgusting thing that I’ve ever heard in my whole life and Dad never said anything like that.”

“When was this?”

Trixie frowned, thinking. “A few weeks ago. Right after the last time Sally showed up, actually.”

Honey’s eyes widened. “Then maybe you didn’t imagine it. Maybe your parents saw it, too. Maybe that baby really is part of your family!”

“But I don’t want him to be!”

“I don’t think you get to choose that kind of thing,” Honey answered, slowly.

Trixie screwed up her nose. “The last time she was here, Sally said that Mart was the baby’s father. The time before, she said it was Dan. Why can’t she just tell the truth?”

Honey gulped. “Maybe she doesn’t know.”

Continue to Part four.