“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “I wish I knew what to do.”
She said she didn’t know, but she did. I knew too. Even if Doc wanted something different-even if we all did-there were more important things.
That’s what I told myself as I buried my face in my pillow and cried myself to sleep.
Chapter Seven
I don’t know why I was surprised when we ran into Maureen Holmes at Dairy Queen. They vacationed in Key West every year around Christmas. What should have surprised me was the fact that it had taken so long for the Baumgartners to run into her the first time. Still, when we ended up in line together, it was more than a little awkward, for so many reasons, not the least of which was the fact she’d fired me, and the Baumgartners had turned right around and hired me.
And, of course, there was also the fact that now I knew what Maureen Holmes looked like without her clothes on.
Awkward.
Especially since Doc and Mrs. B and the baby stayed in the car while I took Janie and Henry up to the window to get ice cream. I decided to just pretend I didn’t see them, but that didn’t work for long because Janie recognized Rebecca Holmes and struck up a conversation with her, and Henry then started talking to Rebecca’s brother, Isaac, and Mrs. Holmes had to notice me then. It took her a minute. Not to place me, I don’t think-she recognized me when she looked at me-but to make some sort of sense of why I was paying for the Baumgarter kids’ ice cream. Thankfully, the Baumgartners saw what was going on and got out of the car, bringing the baby with them.
“Maureen!” Mrs. B smiled brightly, Holly on her hip as she approached. “How are you?”
“Hello.” Maureen gave her a smile back, although it wasn’t quite as bright. “I assume you’re at the time-share?”
Doc hung back, watching, not saying anything. He just nodded to Mrs. Holmes and half-smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes. The kids were already gathered in a little group, the girls talking about boys, and the boys talking about sports. Janie and Henry loved Key West, but the older they got, the less they got along, and they really missing having friends around. And I missed it for them, because I had to break up and redirect the constant bickering or we’d all go insane.
“Yes, same old place.” Mrs. B laughed, bouncing the baby. The sun was in Holly’s eyes-she must have taken her hat off in the car-and she was fussy. “Are you, James and the kids here for long?”
“Just a few weeks.” Maureen tucked her short hair behind her ear, glancing over at the kids. They’d gravitated to one of the picnic tables, girls on one side, boys on the other, chatting between licks of ice cream. “You know, our church does a vacation kids camp here every year.”
“Oh that’s right.” Mrs. B used her hand to shade the baby’s eyes, but Holly was now fussy and didn’t want to be soothed.
“Here, I’ll take her, so you can talk.” I held my arms out for the baby and Mrs. B handed her over.
“So, Gretchen is working for you now?” Maureen Holmes gave me a cool glance as I carried the baby, putting her up over my shoulder-a position she loved, because she could see everything-as I walked toward the picnic tables to join the kids.
“What does a nosey pepper do?” Henry asked.
The kids all looked at him, then at each other, their ice cream cones in various states of melting in the hot, Florida sun.
“Gets jalapeno business!” Henry exclaimed and everyone cracked up.
I smiled, rolling my eyes, glancing back at the Baumgartners and Mrs. Holmes. I couldn’t help looking at her differently since I’d now seen her naked. Granted, those photos had been taken years ago, but still. I couldn’t believe that girl and this woman were the same person. The Mrs. Holmes I knew thought sex was exclusively for procreation and that anything else was a sin. I think their religious ideas mostly came from her husband, who seemed even more into it than Mrs. Holmes. At least she slipped up once in a while and took the Lord’s name in vain or let profanity slip, but I’d never even heard James Holmes say “goshdarn” let alone “goddamn.”
I couldn’t imagine restricting myself to the level that the Holmes’ had. Not only could they not have sex unless they were making babies-and Mrs. Holmes couldn’t have any more kids, had had a hysterectomy due to a cancer scare years ago-I couldn’t figure out what they said to each other when they were having sex? How did you fuck without saying, “Oh God!” at least once? I don’t know, maybe it was okay to say it in the middle of sex, if you were praising Him? I didn’t think the Holmes’ even had sex anymore, since Mrs. Holmes’ operation. I’d never heard them, in the entire time I’d lived with them.
Mostly, I felt sorry for the kids. Isaac and Rebecca were spoiled rotten brats, but it wasn’t their fault. They had to live with Maureen and James Holmes. I thought they would have been better off adopted out somewhere rather than have to live under that kind of repression. They were going to grow up to either be just like their parents and raise repressed kids just like them, or they were going to go absolutely wild once they got out of the house. I was betting in the latter. In fact, I once told Ronnie I thought Becca Holmes would end up pregnant before she was out of her teens. Probably sooner rather than later.
“I’ll ask my mom if we can go!” Janie said excitedly, already hopping up off the picnic table. I hadn’t been paying attention to what they were talking about, but I put a hand on her shoulder, sitting her back down.
“Ask your mom what?”
“Becca said there’s a huge fair, today and tomorrow! They have face painting and a bouncy house and rides and everything!”
I glanced up to see the “adults” were still talking, but they were moving closer to us, walking toward the picnic table.
“Can we go, Gretchen?” Henry asked. “Please? Pretty please? Ask Mom for us! She’ll listen to you.”
“I’m not sure if you really want to go to this fair,” I said, frowning.
I knew exactly what they were talking about. The Holmes’ church-which wasn’t really a church at all, more of an offshoot of a regular church that had gone all cult-sponsored a trip every year to Key West for the kids. There was a week-long camp where they played games, sang songs, swam with dolphins, memorized Bible verses, and prayed a lot, and in the end, they had a big celebration where they hired clowns and had fair rides and all sorts of things kids love.
The kids earned “points” all week long to “spend” at this fair. One of the ways to get the most points was to bring non-religious friends with you to camp, or even to the fair at the end. They believed that teaching children their beliefs from a very young age was the best way to convert them to the “ways of Christ.” I’d heard it enough when I lived with the Holmes’-had pretended to be “saved” myself, so I wouldn’t have to listen to Mrs. Holmes proselytizing all the time. They’d only hired me because they’d known my aunt and thought I was already part of their religion. My aunt had died-complications of Lupus-the year before I got the job, so they had no idea I was lying through my teeth.
“I know the kids would just love it!” Maureen smiled at Janie and Henry, standing behind her own daughter, petting her dark head. “I can have them back tomorrow.”
“We can go?” Janie was bouncing in her seat.
“Please, Mom!” Henry was already begging. “Please! Please!”
Mrs. B looked at Doc. He shrugged, an “it’s up to you” sort of gesture.
“I guess I don’t see why not…” Mrs. B hesitated, glancing at me.
I shrugged too.
It wouldn’t kill Janie and Henry to be around the Holmes’ for a day or two. You didn’t get converted in a day. And if I knew those two, they’d come home with all sorts of rancor at the idea of anyone trying to convince them to do or believe anything. I didn’t like Maureen Holmes, and she didn’t like me-not anymore, not since she’d found condoms in my purse and fired me for assuming I was having premarital sex, which I was, but that wasn’t the point-but I didn’t think she was evil or anything. Just sadly misguided and slightly delusional, like most fundamentally religious folks.