On Little Wings (18 page)

“Oh, by all means, call them by their last name,” Little said with a wicked grin.

“Okay,” I looked at Sarah. She dipped her head back down, refusing to help me. I turned to see Nathan enjoying the entertainment. No one offered any information so I knew they wanted me to ask. “So what’re your last names?”

“Ass!” Little called out in joy. At that the entire party fell into abandoned laughter. Watching the men made me laugh harder than Little’s words. Surely, they knew the punch line, but they stomped and guffawed like it was the first joke ever told.

Nathan spoke up from behind me while the rest kept laughing, “That’s Russ with the long hair. Pete has the Cane. And Glenn has the hat.”

“So where are you from, Sugar?” Russ asked me.

“Nebraska.”

To my surprise that made the Jacks laugh almost as hard as Little’s comments.

“
Nebraska
? What do you wanna live in a place like that for?” Pete asked.

“No, Nebraska’s nice,” I argued.

They chuckled and Pete scrunched up his face. “You boys every seen Nebraska? What ya got there? Cows and… anything ‘sides cows?”

“I’ve never been nowhere I couldn’t sail the Misses.” The heavyset Jack answered.

“Who?” I asked.

“Glenn’s married to his boat. Calls her the Misses,” Russ answered.

“Don’t mention it to the boat. It embarrasses the
hull
out of her.” Pete added, pointing his cane down at the docks.

“You bloody fools. You wish your wives loved you like ma boat loves me! At least I can still turn the Misses on,” Glenn said with a triumphant flush.

Little laid into them. “Sick, old pirates!” She squawked before turning to me. “You talk like that in front of the girls?” She turned to me, “Just ignore the dirty old men. They spend all their time trying to figure out who’s the best fisher, the best cusser, the worst husband, the stupidest, the smelliest, the…”

“You forgot one,” Russ interrupted with a devilish grin. “Who’s the best kisser? Pete there is the worst fisher, Glenn is by far the smelliest,” Pete cracked Russ’s shin with his cane, “but we don’t know who’s the best kisser. You wanna help us figguh it out, Little?”

“I suggest you grab a donkey’s backside and give it a good try. You probably need to test it on your own species,” Little growled.

The three Jacks let out a simultaneous hoot. “Someday, Little, you’ll realize you are a mere mortal like the rest of us. Can’t be young and beautiful forever.” Russ smiled broadly, spreading his hands.

“I might be old and ugly now, but you started that way, Jack. I got my pride.”

Pete let out another howl of approval and said “He is ugly, ain’t he?”

Glenn was the quietest of the three. He sat relishing his punch line about his boat, a smug smile on his heavy jowled face. “Don’t you go and make Hank’s grandgirl all bitter, now,” he cautioned with a grim set to his jaw.

“Well I will if I let her see what boys turn into. Good riddance,” Little stood and took my arm with surprising strength. I managed to wave before she tugged me away, the Jacks’ jovial voices fading as we left.

Sarah followed, shaking her head. “You were in rare form today, Little.”

“Keeps me young,” she said in satisfaction. “I’d a died a long time ago if those stupid Jacks didn’t irritate me so much.” I turned around to see Nathan, but he was still standing with the Jacks, his back to me.

“They’re not so bad, Little,” I said with an amused smile.

“Hrmmp!” she grumped as she shuffled-marched arm in arm with me. “Well, not as bad as what you got to work with. If I had to fall in love with one of the pansies running around today I’d join a convent. They’re rotten from the start, most of them.”

Nathan’s scarred face and squinting eyes flashed through my mind. “They’re not all hopeless.”

“Hrmmp!”

“So were they better when you were young, Little?” Sarah asked.

“Whatever gave you a brainless idea like that? You think the world has changed any?”

“You just said …” Sarah began.

“I said nothing. There was one that was better. Only one.”

On the walk home Charlie entertained me by retrieving rocks that I kicked off the road until my cell phone rang. I flipped it open and saw my father’s number.

“Hello?”

“Jennifer, it’s Dad. How are things going?”

“Things are great. Yesterday was crazy. Don’t try to guess who I met last night, because you won’t get it right. I met a movie star.” Little snorted. “And I made it through my first Smithport storm. The power went out.” I filled him in as I walked.

“Your dad?” Sarah mouthed. I nodded.

“Hey, Jennifer, I’m glad you’re having fun,” He didn’t sound glad. His words came out thin and strained. I turned my head toward the trees and slowed down, letting Sarah and Little pull ahead of me. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans,” He continued. He cleared his throat and his voice dropped, “I think you should pick a flight home now.”

My feet hit a patch of quicksand. I knew from the sinking sensation and the way I couldn’t take my next step. I glanced down, surprised to see the asphalt solid beneath my shoes. Charlie dropped a rock at my foot and looked up eagerly. “Oh,” I whispered, turning completely away from Sarah so she couldn’t see my face.

“I know that you’re having fun. I’m sure you could do it again sometime. But you have to consider your mother’s feelings. I’m worried we are pushing her too far.”

“Oh.”

“Besides that, we miss you around here. Cleo stops by just to keep us company.”

“Uh huh.”

“Jennifer?”

“Uh huh?”

“Are you going to say anything?” A dry heat rushed up my throat and stung my eyes. If I spoke my voice would crack. I made as casual a noise as I could manage without opening my mouth. The scent of the nearest pine tree filled my nose as I inhaled deeply.

“Look, Jennifer, this isn’t a punishment. I’m not trying to upset you, honey. Maybe you can stay a few more days. I’d just like you to pick a flight and let Mom know when you’ll be home. That’s all.”

“Has she said anything?” I asked, fighting the tightness in my chest. Sarah sidled closer to me. Even though I sensed her hovering I refused to turn toward her.

“Sure she has. She talks about you nonstop. She’s jumpy. She’s worried. She needs to know you’re safe. I just think she needs you home. Could you do that for me? For her?”

I treated him to another stubborn pause. If only Nathan knew how much I
didn’t
say. “Dad, I’m out with some people right now and we’re almost home. Can I call you right back in a few minutes?” My control slipped and the tears leaked out of my eyes and into my voice.

“Honey, don’t cry. I’m not trying to make you cry.”

“I’m fine. I’ll call you back,” I said in a hurried breath and hung up the phone. I dropped my head so Sarah couldn’t see my expression as she inched around me.

“Jennifer? What’s wrong?” She asked. I started walking again, my hanging head shaking back and forth.

“What happened?” Little demanded.

I took a deep breath and looked only at the trees, so thick that I couldn’t see the water at all. “My Mom wants me to come home.” The tears dropped fat and fast.

“Sweetie, come here,” Sarah said, her arm encircling my shoulders and pulling me into step with her. “I guess we knew it was coming, didn’t we?” A few more steps and then, “So why does it feel so awful?”

“I don’t know.” I sniffed, wishing for a tissue. “It’s not like I never want to go home. I’m not running away. I’m just not, I don’t think, I don’t know.” I pushed hard against my eyes, like I could press the painful ideas out of my head.

“You’re not ready yet,” Little said.

I dropped my hand and nodded.

“Life is about timing,” Sarah whispered. I glanced up at her and saw a pink rim around the whites of her eyes. She was trying hard to stay calm for me. That made it a thousand times worse.

“Why don’t you leave the girl with me?” Little spoke to Sarah quietly, but her usual authority did not get lost with an absence of volume.

“Leave Jennifer?” Sarah asked.

“Yes. I need to talk to her for a bit. She’ll walk me home and you can take that fool dog. He’s getting on my nerves anyway.” Charlie’s tail lashed in excitement.

“I don’t see why we can’t all …” Sarah started to argue.

“Don’t matter what you see. I need a private conversation with Jennifer.”

Sarah squinted in doubt. I could tell she was going to fight this.

“It’s okay, Sarah. I don’t mind.” My curiosity over what Little wanted to say to me in private was a welcome distraction from my disappointment.

“I’m outnumbered,” She said with a sigh. “Come on, Charlie. I’ll see you at home.” She took off at a brisk pace and from the way her hand went up to her face I wondered if her tears finally fell. Little watched Sarah’s back until she was well ahead of us.

“Tell your mama ‘no.’”

“What?”

“You call your mama and you tell her no,” Little commanded.

“Why?”

The old woman’s eyes ran back and forth across my face. “Because - if Claire wants you to come home she needs to come get you.”

“What?” Straight to crazy.

“You heard me just fine.” Little’s piercing eyes were deadly serious.

“You want me to force my mother to come get me?”

“What I said.” Little started walking again, leaving me behind.

“She won’t come,” I called after her. “She’ll be so mad at me that she’ll never let me come back. She’ll send my dad.” The scenarios flew through my mind, along with the image of my mother’s horrified face. It wasn’t hard to guess what she would do.

“Then you tell your daddy to stay put. That little girl needs to come get you.”

“Little, it won’t work. It would make everything worse.”

“Says you,” she answered, her anger growing.

“Yes, says me!” I drew up beside her, matching her brisk pace.

“And you’re what – ten?” she glowered, spitting out my age like an insult.

“Sixteen,” I glared back. “And I know my mother.”

“Hah! Is that why she told you all about Sarah? Because you know her so well?”

Tears pricked at my eyes again – this time angry tears. Embarrassed tears. “She won’t come,” my weakened voice barely made it out of my mouth.

Little’s stare didn’t stop at my face. I felt the blue fire racing past my eyes and into my chest. “She’ll come. You make her come.”

“Little, you haven’t seen her since she was a kid. What makes you think you know what’s best for her? You don’t even know who she is anymore.”

“I don’t know what she’s been doing all this time, but I know who she is.” The burning conviction in her face made it impossible to doubt her.

I took a step closer to her. “Tell me what happened to my mother.”

She looked back at me with calculating eyes, “No.”

“No?” I barked in frustration and surprise.

“No. I told you I trade. So I won’t tell you – I’ll trade you.”

“Trade
what
? What do you want, Little?” The question escaped in a sigh. Nathan was right. Most people played the game and I was tired of it.

“You tell your mama to come get you and I’ll tell you what happened. A trade.”

“Jasper!” I whispered in defeat, but I felt a tiny thrill at the realization that I could say it just like Sarah. I turned a defiant face to Little. “And what if she says no?”

“She’s gonna want you home sometime. She’ll come get you.” We paused at the end of her driveway. Equally stubborn. A stalemate. “I know you think I’m being mean, Jennifer, but I’m not. Claire needs this. I know better than anyone.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep, painful breath. “And if you’re wrong?”

“Don’t be stupid, girl. I’m too old to be wrong.”

I followed Little into her tiny house, hoping to pry some more information out of her. The front door opened into a small, dim living room with velvet flocked wallpaper. Little eased into an olive green chair with a grunt and started unlacing her walking shoes. “What is it you want to know?” She asked me as she yanked off her shoe.

“Anything, I guess. Anything I don’t know already. Sarah told me how my grandparents died.” I made some tentative steps over to her sofa. Nothing in the house looked like it had been touched much in the last fifty years. The heavy drapes with an odd geometric design could only be from the sixties and the tufted, turquoise sofa looked like a museum piece. I sat on it gingerly. “Sarah told me she was in Africa when Grandma had a stroke. She was there with a man,” I added, even though it made my stomach dip.

“Well, that ain’t my story to tell. But I can tell you what happened here.”

“Okay,” I leaned forward in expectation.

“After you call your mama.” She didn’t blink.

I deflated with a hopeless sigh. “I told you I can’t.”

Little made a noise that sounded like ‘huh’ and started untying her other shoe. “Did she want you to come visit Sarah?”

“No,” I mumbled.

“She say no?”

“Yes.” The reluctant answers slid between my closed teeth.

“She get upset?”

“Yes.”

“You sitting on my mother’s divan?”

I looked down at the rich, jacquard material, frayed at the edges of the cushions. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Well there ya go. If you got here, you can get her here.”

“But
why
?” I exclaimed, my aggravation finally injecting power into my voice.

“Because she’s not free. She’s not at peace.”

“She seemed fine until my father told me about Sarah.”

“Don’t tell me about acting,” Little said in a low, menacing growl. “I know about acting. And I know about hiding.” Her eyes went somewhere too distant and private for me to follow. I looked back down at the sofa, soaking in the deep green patterns.

“I didn’t mean anything about acting. I meant that she really was happy.”

“Then she woulda told you. She woulda told the whole story. When you’re not runnin’ from a story, you can tell it. She’s still running. Never seen a body run like that.”

I stepped over to a bookcase crammed with assorted treasures – tea cups, a china lizard, ceramic birds, and a set of Russian nesting dolls. Lifting a silver thimble I pressed it onto my finger and kept pressing, calmed by the pressure of the smooth metal against my skin. “Why? Why is she still running? Why can’t she just forgive Sarah and get over it?”