Free Buried by Robin Merrow MacCready Page A

shook off the memory. In the living room I looked more closely at the three piles of magazines. I’d divided them equally by topic: Cosmo, Better Homes and Gardens, People. For good measure I arranged them left to right in order of importance: Better Homes and Gardens, People, Cosmo. Perfect. Except, beside Cosmo was something tiny. I held it close. My stomach turned over in recognition. It was a small silver loop. Mom’s toe ring. I went through the past few days and tried to remember if I’d set it there. I knew I hadn’t, and my stomach flipped over again. But Liz had sat right there, and she might have found it and set it beside the magazines.
    I wanted out. I got in the car. At the mailbox I grabbed five days’ worth of overflowing mail. I dropped the heap in the passenger seat and wrote out a Post-it reminding me to get the mail every day.
    It was mostly junk, but two were bills for phone and power and another was a slim envelope with a shiny window and the name SERENA M. CARBONNEAU peeking out. In the upper left corner was the familiar address. My hands trembled. “Yes!” I said to no one.
    I looked in the mirror. With a snap, I unclasped my barrette and let down my hair. Mom’s dark lipstick was in the glove compartment. Instant transformation.
    I got in line at the drive-through window on the far side of the bank. I signed the welfare check and put it in the vacuum tube.
    â€œHey, Serena. Cash or checking?” the speaker said.
    Shit, who was that? “Oh, all cash please.” It was impossible to see through the other car windows to the person talking, but I waved anyway.
    The tube landed with a smack outside my window.
    â€œDon’t spend it all in one place!”
    I parked in the power company parking lot and stuffed a fat envelope with two months of late payments. I did the same with the phone bill. I dropped each payment in the night depository boxes at their billing offices. It was a good feeling, like when all the socks in the laundry pair up perfectly.
    I drove along the shore, watching the horizon line, imagining Mom in rehab. Blue lights flashing froze me behind the wheel. My heart hammered in my chest. I pulled over.
    â€œMiss,” an officer said, tapping on the glass.
    I rolled down the window.
    â€œLicense and registration, please.”
    I took them from the glove compartment and handed them to him.
    â€œDo you know why I pulled you over, Miss Serena Carbonneau?” he asked, ducking down to see my face.
    Tears appeared from nowhere, and I blinked them onto my cheeks. I looked up at his mirrored sunglasses and through the blur I saw Mom looking back at me. I couldn’t turn away.
    He patted the roof. “Your back left taillight is out. You’ll have to signal manually until you get it fixed.” He waited for a reaction, then smiled, handing back the license and registration. “Registration is due next month, too. On your way, then.” He gave a nod. “And drive safely.”
    I crept away from the side of the road, both hands clamped to the steering wheel, watching the cop in my rearview mirror sitting in his car, talking into his radio, getting smaller and smaller. “Only a taillight, only a taillight. Remember to signal.” I counted cars as they passed: One, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five.
    I drove around the beach and up to town and back down again until somehow I was in the MacPhees’ driveway. I could smell the grill and guessed it was burgers. Brandy barked and came running from around back, with Liz just behind. She leaned into the driver’s seat window.
    â€œAre you here to rescue me? Please?”
    â€œI was just out and wondered how you were doing,” I said.
    She rolled her eyes. “You’ve gotta save me. Dad’s smothering me with love. He wants to be sure I forgive him, so today is all about the family. Frisbee, burgers, and togetherness.” She tugged on my