Did You Hear

Though she’d never spoken to Sondra’s husband, Ida recognized Neil Donnelly when he came into her shop. It was after three on a quiet Wednesday afternoon.

Normally she greeted customers. Asked what she could get or how she could help. In her plain brown uniform, hairnet holding tight her hair, her plump face and serene smile put people at ease. But her customers didn’t usually look demented.

“So, this is the world-famous Berry Mills Market.” Neil threw glances down the aisles – like making sure they were alone – and he stalked to where she stood behind the glass dessert counter. “And you must be the famous Ida Rollins. Or is it Aunt Ida that you want to be called?”

Feeling slapped, Ida pulled back her shoulders and stuck up her chin.

It might only be a village market, but she was proud of the space she’d created. Ida might have failed at other dreams, but she’d created the perfect gathering space by combining a convenience store, café bakery, and art gallery. People might complain about prices, but her aisles saved them from driving to the city for every small necessity. Her coffee was fresh and caramel cheesecake and mocha brownies were as fine as any in the city’s upscale bakeries. And the place was needed. Beside her shop, Berry Mills only had a gas station.

“I’m not ashamed to be known as either Ida Rollins or Aunt Ida. But I’ve no reason to be ashamed of my name.” Her sharp words caused Neil’s pale cheeks to flush. For a moment she thought he was going to throw the notebook he held at her face. It was grasped weapon-like. When he lowered his arm, Ida smirked.

Pity that he should look anguished.

Partner at the city accounting firm, Fitzpatrick, Donnelly and Shaw, Neil was normally polished. Early mornings, he’d be fueling his BMW in a crisply pressed suit that showed his lean frame. His chestnut hair sleek, giving a youthful impression. It seemed dishonest. Him not looking like the middle age husband and father he was. Even collecting shells from their sandy shore with his children, he looked picture perfect.

Ida wasn’t sorry. Serving coffee, she learned secrets from customers as they became friends. There was always some new ‘did you hear.’ From his scowl, Ida guessed Sondra told him what she’d learned.

His gray suit was missing a tie and his white shirt unbuttoned past his collar, and he was rumpled as if he’d just woken in his clothes. In his right hand, the spiral notebook was opened to a page full of long handwriting. Shaking the book, he accused. “This is your fault.”

He had no reason to accuse her. Ida only told people what she knew. “Considering I don’t even know what’s upsetting you, I don’t see how that’s possible.” She dipped a cloth under the faucet and wiped down the counter.

“My wife came in here.”

“Who’s your wife, sir?” Even though she knew, talking might calm him.

“Sondra Donnelly.”

“Yes, I know Sondra. She’s my favorite regular. Buys two loaves most weeks. Rye is likely her favorite, as she gets that most times. Also, lots of oatmeal and whole wheat. Sometimes she even buys white.”

“I’m not talking about her buying bread. What did you tell her when she came in for a latte after her hair appointment.”

“Only that we have a new artist showing her work on the gallery board. I believe you know Miss Freia Chapman.”

“What did you tell my wife about her?”

“Only that you invited Freia to the theatre in the city. I believe it was Come From Away. Freia couldn’t stop talking about how excited she was.”

There it was out. Ida couldn’t help her triumphant gleam as colour drained from his face. Neil couldn’t have looked worse, but it served him right. Married men thinking they could seduce women barely out of high school and go back to their wives like they’d done no wrong.

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he muttered and dropped onto a counter stool.

“What your wife didn’t appreciate your having a girlfriend. How odd.”

“She isn’t a girlfriend.” After running his hands over his face, Neil looked at her with bloodshot eyes.

Though her smirk faltered, Ida’s eyes remained defiant. “Lost daughter is she. I’m sure Sondra will understand.” Ida remembered Freia bouncing into the shop looking for a summer job after she’d finished her first year at college. They weren’t busy enough for Ida to hire her, but she said Freia could try and sell her artwork.

The paintings Freia brought in were seductive poses done in fire colours. Ida could understand why Neil might be drawn to Freia’s wild beauty, but he was older and should have known better.

Flinching like struck, Neil muttered something about a drink.

“Only coffee. I can put on a fresh pot, if you like.”

“Ok.”

While the coffee brewed, he asked about Freia’s art. As much as Ida loathed the man, she couldn’t resist showing off the small gallery. Let jealous snobs disparage, as those lacking imagination had criticized Maud Lewis. The colourful paintings gave her shop a wonderful small-town vibe.

She’d put panels in the back left corner to make half-walls so village residents could display and try and sell their created art. Ida loved looking at the bright petals of Julie’s purple geraniums and Alison’s gray poodle. Freia’s blends of golden reposing women fit well between them. Ida didn’t blame her. Neil was the married man. Easy enough to imagine him taking advantage of her innocence.

“It wasn’t anything I planned. I got coffee from a café across from my office. One day I go in and there’s this girl with the brightest smile. The greenest eyes.” Neil tapped Freia’s picture. She smiled in it. Her hair was as red as autumn leaves.

“Sondra is the most elegant woman I’ve ever known,” Ida said. With her long waves of near black hair, Sondra was as pretty, and she’d given him two children.

“I love my wife, but.”

“There are no buts after love.”

“Things are so simple for you.”

“Right and wrong usually are. It’s trying to turn wrong into right that’s complicated.”

“What happened to you. Your husband leave you for a younger, thinner woman?”

Frowning, Ida crossed her arms. “I’ll see if the coffee’s ready.”

Neil stayed looking at the art.

When he came out, Ida filled a mug and set it on the counter in front of his stool.

She closed at four, and it was almost that.

“I never lied to Freia. She knew I was married.”

“And did Sondra know you were seeing Freia.”

“No. Not until you told her.”

“She was bound to find out. This is a small town.”

“Like living under glass.”

“So why did you do it. You knew you’d be caught.”

Neil took a sip of coffee. “You been married.”

Ida shook her head ‘no.’

“After seven years, its like she didn’t see me anymore. I’m just the guy that pays the bills and takes out the trash. That she gets to fix things. She gets bored.”

“You mean, you do.”

“I come home to supper and screaming kids.” He looked at his mug with teary eyes. “She doesn’t even look at me except to say, ‘can you’ about whatever she needs done. And so, I meet this girl. Fresh-faced. Knows nothing about me. Wants to know everything. After seven years of being the dullest person, the woman finds me fascinating. I wasn’t looking to meet anyone, but there it happened.”

“As a married man, you never should have started talking with her.”

“You are right, of course, as a woman whose never been married.”

“You better fix this mess. Tell Freia you can’t see her and go back to your wife.”

“Sondra’s in the hospital.”

“What!”

“She tried to kill herself.”

Ida stared at Neil. He stared back stone-faced.

“Will she be alright?”

“Hard to say. I mean she’s recovered from the suicide attempt, but not knowing what she’ll do next, they can’t let her out. At least not right away.”

He set down his mug, and Ida refilled it.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with her?”

“Can’t see her while she’s under observation.”

“Where are the kids?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you. Go ask Ida. She knows everything. That’s what Sondra told me.”

The children were missing. Why was he only telling this now. Did the police know. What about an amber alert.

Ida stared dumbly. “When was the last time you saw Sondra?” Neil asked.

“The Tuesday she had her hair done. Yesterday.”

“She had Kyle and Maddie with her?”

The kids. “No.”

“Why did she say you had them or knew where they were. You have to know something even if you don’t realize it.” The panic in his voice scared her. “I’ve been trying to reach Freia but not getting an answer.” He set his phone on the counter.

Ida didn’t understand why he was trying to reach Freia.

Sondra had come in yesterday before two. Pleased with her stylist, she’d been all smiles.

Ida had offered, “Berry’s delight?” as Sondra usually ordered the specialty coffee.

Sondra nodded and smiled swishing back her hair. It was as beautiful as a dark river down her back.

“She did a good job again,” Ida had told Sondra when setting down the frothy mug. “Did you hear our gallery has a new artist? Freia Chapman. Her parents are cottagers, and she’s just finished her first year at art college.”

Ida could tell Freia’s name didn’t mean anything to Sondra as she only looked interested in her coffee. “Don’t think we have room for anything else.”

“No, your husband seemed quite taken by Miss Freia. Freia said he invited her into the city. She seemed excited by the invitation.” Ida made sure her eyes were wide to seem not to understand what she implied.

Sondra knew well enough. Her face lost its fresh-from-the-beauty-parlor glow, and she frowned at her mug. “Who are you talking about?”

“Our newest artist.” Ida had pointed at the gallery and followed Sondra to where Freia’s work was displayed.

Sondra stared at Freia’s bright picture.

“Quite good for someone so young. Your husband must have been impressed. Freia couldn’t seem to stop talking about him.”

Sondra had stomped from the gallery right out the door. Ida assumed to confront Neil. Had thought any violence done would have only been against him.

“What’s with the notebook?” Ida asked.

Neil lay it beside his phone. It was Sondra’s suicide note. At the end of her accusations, Sondra had written, “if you’re not still sick of me and our screaming kids, maybe Auntie Ida can tell you where Freia’s taken them.” Her words seemed to scream at Ida from the page.

“Where did you find Sondra?” Ida heard her voice before she realized she had spoken.

“She was slumped over her writing desk. Had taken sleeping pills. This notebook was under her head.

“You have to go to the police.”

“Tell me what you know. I know you know where they are.” Neil looked like he wanted to throttle her. “What were you and Freia planning? Sondra said you’d know where she’d taken them.”

He was serious. Neil believed she’d hidden his children and knew where they were. Pain in his eyes made him look like a wounded coyote about to bite.

Ida rubbed a callous that toughened her soft fleshy palm. Sondra had blamed her and thrown the accusation that pained Neil’s eyes. What could she have meant about knowing where Freia had taken the children. Sondra hadn’t been long in the gallery, but Ida had showed her Freia’s work.

“There’s Freia’s art studio.”

“Where is that?”

Going back to the gallery corner, Ida took one of Freia’s brochures and showed Neil the back. Pointed at a map showing the address. But he had to call the police.

“Is this all you know?”

Those were Neil’s final words before police surrounded them.

An officer patted Neil’s back. “You did good.”

Neil started crying. Deep racking sobs.

Another officer spoke the address into a radio. They waited in front of the counter frowning at Ida. Looking contemptuous. But she hadn’t done anything.

Neil sat up and everyone waited. Slow ticking echoed, and the clock seemed stuck at four ten.

From the radio, “We got them. They’re fine. She was showing them fingerpainting.”

“Will you take me?” Neil wiped fluid from his eyes and nose.

“Yeah. Donnie here will take you.” Again, Neil’s back was patted, and he led out.

After they left the last officer scowled at Ida.

“I didn’t do anything,” she stuttered.

“Now, ma’am, you are not being charged with anything. But in future you might want to be more careful of your words. It might save us all a lot of trouble.”

The radio on her way home was full of the news, but the words didn’t feel like they were about her.

Even showering the next morning, Ida couldn’t believe what had happened. And after opening her shop early the next morning, she looked about trying to grasp what had happened. With everything she hadn’t done the final mop. Usually she admired the floor shine, but that morning she looked at foot tracks. Likely left from the officers. And when customers came in with their ‘did you hear,’ Ida only blinked in response.

There should have been a lot to tell that morning, but the officer’s words haunted.

Of course, she knew they couldn’t arrest her for gossiping. But had her words led to Sondra hiding her kids and attempting suicide.

After that day, she did lots of nodding and little speaking of what she’d heard.