Tender Graces (17 page)

I sat on the steps while she walked to Mrs. Mendel’s house with her back like a broomstick. Mrs. Mendel’s curtains opened and Momma’s face poked out to look at me. When she closed the curtains, I went back into the house and into Momma’s room. I grabbed her silver-handled brush, her Shalimar powder, and her red lipstick. I stole a picture of Momma and Daddy she kept hidden under her dresser scarf. On the way out, I took Momma’s shirt hanging on the door and put it over my t-shirt, buttoning it up to the neck. I pushed her other things down into the bottom of Daddy’s bag. I next went into Andy’s room and took Fiddledeedee the Tiger.

Holding on to Fiddledeedee, I decided I’d go see Andy even if it did rile up Momma. I ran outside; that’s when I saw Momma, Andy, and Mrs. Mendel driving away in Mrs. Mendel’s Cadillac. Momma looked straight ahead. Andy’s head popped up and down, happy, happy.

I stood in the hot road. When I couldn’t stand the fire in my feet anymore, I went back to the steps to wait for Daddy. I did my multiplication tables and I was up to the fours when Daddy drove down the road and into the driveway. Without opening the door, he jumped out, wearing a black shirt and black britches with black boots. His hair was longer than before and he had sideburns that went halfway down his cheeks, but no mustache. He looked like Elvis’s lost cousin.

“Bug! Look how big you’ve grown.” He grabbed my suitcase and put it in the back, yappering on about how the drive back would be fun, and how he missed his little girl, and how pretty I was (he lied, for I had on the ugliest pair of checkered pedal pushers ever made in the whole world). When I didn’t answer, his grin was less big. He said, “Is there anything else, Bug?”

I walked up the steps to go back inside. He followed me into my room and I pointed to the bag. He picked it up. “That it?”

I nodded, tensed my stomach and clenched my fists to hold myself tight. Sometimes it was hard not to cry.

He tried to hug me, but I ran out of the bedroom and out the front door, even though there was nowhere I could go. I thought maybe Momma might come back, see me there pitiful and change her mind. Daddy put the bag in his car and came over to grab me in a hug. I didn’t hug him back, but I took in the smells of him. The Old Spice was gone. Not a speck of it was to be found no matter how deep I breathed in. He patted me on the back, saying, “It’s okay, Baby Bug. I’m sorry.”

I thought how Daddy sure said I’m sorry a lot but he didn’t do much about making the sorrys not happen in the first place. I climbed into his stupid car. He jumped in, gunned the engine, and when we drove away, I didn’t want to look back. But I had to. I just had to tell my mountain goodbye. And the maple—its leaves waving at me, telling me goodbye with a zillion little hands. And my swing, telling me good-bye, good-bye, good-bye in the wind.

I felt the doors to my inside house closing. I pictured them shutting, the locks turning with a loud clackityclack. I saw how things worked. How people you love could hurt you and still go around grinning and looking like Elvis’s cousin. Or drive away so they wouldn’t have to tell the truth. I figured out all my multiplication tables, so I could figure out all that.

I tried to force my heart to thump regular and smooth, but it wouldn’t listen. As we drove away, sister mountain called to me. I heard it on the wind as we drove down the long road out of the holler. I watched it one last time as it rose up behind me, dark and sad.

As we drove down the highway, I imagined Grandma’s ghost might be flying around the trees and she could take me by the hand and we’d fly, looking down over West Virginia. I’d see Daddy driving in his car, wondering where I went off to. And Momma, she’d be sad because she let me go. Just when I was almost smiling, Daddy took to whistling and ruined it. I hated whistling more than liver.

He said, “We’ll be in Kentucky soon. You’ll see blue grass. It really does look blue. And horses, thoroughbreds. You’ll like Kentucky.”

I answered him inside my head, “I like West Virginia so you can put that in your stupid pipe and smoke it until you’re green.”

“Then Tennessee comes next and that’s where we’re staying the night.”

I pressed my lips together. “So what? I don’t care.”

“It’s going to work out great, you’ll see. Louisiana is interesting. It’s eerie—a mysterious beauty, like seeing things in a fog that aren’t there.”

I turned my head away from him. “Louisiana is full of swamp rats.”

“Well, since you aren’t talking to me, I’ll just have to keep whistling.” And it was inside my head like biting on foil, but I didn’t say a thing. He finally gave up and drove quiet. I felt like I won something.

Kentucky was pretty. There were horses just as he said. The most beautiful ones I’d ever seen. I watched one gallop along with us, tossing its head about. I had a want then to have one of my own. I could ride it up, up, just as I did with Fionadala, but for real, not just pretend.

Tennessee was a pretty place, too. We pulled up to a little hotel with a flashing sign and Daddy went in to pay for our room. From the car, I watched a little boy and girl walk with their parents. The momma was laughing at something the daddy said. The little boy jumped up and down, holding on to his daddy’s hand. His jumping was so happy I had to smile. The little girl stepped as if she was a princess. Tossing her short brown curls, she grinned up at her daddy. When they passed the car, Miss Priss looked right at me and stuck out her tongue. She skipped away, grabbing her momma’s hand and I decided I hated her.

When Daddy returned, he put up the top and drove around to park. He jumped out and grabbed our suitcases. He was always moving, drive, park, jump, pull, talk, whistle. Inside our room, there were two plumped-up beds, a dresser, and a desk. I pulled back the bedspread like Mee Maw said she did and looked at the sheets. They were white enough to glow in the almost dark room.

“Want something to eat? I saw a diner just down the road. How about it?” One side of his mouth turned up a little higher than the other while he pushed his hand through his hair, messing up the combing he’d done before he went in to get our room key.

I gave him a nod, which was the least I could do. At the diner, I ordered fried chicken and corn on the cob, with a big glass of milk. Daddy had the same thing, except he asked for beer with his. For dessert, we asked for ice cream—I wanted strawberry and Daddy wanted chocolate. The waitress, who said her name was Shaline, put a cherry and some whipped cream on top, giving Daddy a wink when she set the bowls in front of us. She licked her lips like Momma did. We finished up our dessert and Daddy paid our bill, leaving Shaline a big tip. He said something to her when he handed her the money and she laughed and nodded her head, touching his right arm.

Back to our room, I pulled out my book and leaned back against the pillows to read.

“I’m going to make a phone call, Bug.” Daddy took the phone into the bathroom. After he shut the door, I waited for a bit, and then sneaked up to listen.

“ . . . left Andy there with her.” Daddy’s shoe shadow passed in the door crack. He was walking the bathroom, back and forth. Enough to take a step, turn, take a step. “Now, hold on, that’s not fair. I do what I can.” Shower curtain sounds—I knew he looked at the tub, more Mee Maw ideas. “That’s your opinion, Jonah.” Jiggling the toilet handle. “No, she agreed to this deal.” The faucet squeaking on then off. “When did your daddy get out of prison?” The toilet seat banged. “Oh. I guess the cancer will finish what prison didn’t. Well, I just wanted to let you know what was happening.” Paper crinkling. “I know, I hate splitting them up, too, but . . . ” More squeaky faucet and the water running. “ . . . give Billie . . .best . . . keep . . . touch.” Water off. “I always liked you, Jonah . . . okay, yeah, bye.” Phone in cradle.

I jumped in bed and pretended to read my book. Daddy came out, set the phone back on the nightstand, and stood jingling his keys in his pocket. He wandered around the room, studying the lamp, his bed, the pictures on the walls, the curtains. Checked his watch three times.

He tapped his right foot, heel to toe. “Is that a good book, Bug?”

I shrugged.

“What are you reading?”

I showed him the book.

“What? No Shakespeare?” He smiled halfway, then tapped his fingers on his leg. “I’m going to grab a beer. Keep the door locked, okay? I mean it, don’t come out.” Daddy kissed my cheek, then said, “And don’t stay up too late. We still have a ways to go.”

I opened
Tom Sawyer
to page 109 where the gum wrapper held my place. I read, “‘One of the reasons why Tom’s mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about.’” Our room door clicked. I read that sentence again, and then again before I finally forced myself to read on. I woke up to the door opening and Daddy coming in the room. Without saying goodnight, he fell onto his bed and let out a beer-stinky sigh.

I lay awake until I heard his snoring. Then I remembered I left my Special Things Box under my bed. And Grandma Faith’s quilt. I’d been so busy being a big baby that I forgot my important things. Later, I dreamed I was holding Momma’s hand as she pulled me away from Andy. He grew smaller and smaller, but we didn’t care. Both of us were laughing and swinging our arms higher and higher. I looked up at Momma and she was grinning big, then she turned into Shaline. When I woke up, Daddy was already shaving.

For breakfast, we ate biscuits and white gravy at the diner. Daddy drank three cups of coffee, and kept rubbing his face and eyes. Shaline wasn’t anywhere around, and instead, there was a gray-haired woman with a name tag that read
Doris
. I liked her laugh and she didn’t lick her lips or wink.

Back in the car, Daddy didn’t put the top down. He said it would get mighty hot soon. I looked for interesting things, even though I wasn’t very interested in anything. There were no more mountains to be seen. No more horses running. It was all wrong. I pretended to sleep until Daddy stopped for lunch.

We ate in the car, the grease from the hamburger dripping down my arm. I didn’t worry about greasy arms, or my tangled up hair, and I wore the same clothes I left home in, the same clothes I slept in. I wished Momma knew how I looked so I could be spiteful about it.

I fell asleep after lunch and when I woke, Daddy grinned over at me. “Good, you’re awake. Look at the Spanish moss hanging off those cypress trees. It’s good to be home.”

I mind-thought, “Whose home?” Everything looked secret and mysterious.

Daddy pointed to the biggest oak trees I’d ever seen, like big strong old men standing guard over all the other trees. Everything was green and mossy and moldy. We stopped to get a pop at a filling station and it was hot as the exhaust pipe’s smoke. My clothes stuck to me and I couldn’t breathe right, all that thick wet air cramming down my lungs. Daddy laughed when I said, “Whew.”

“You’ll get used to it, Bug.”

I was pretty sure I never would.

Chapter 15

Well, isn’t this a pretty picture

Daddy said, “We’re home!” The house was tan with dark-green shutters and had a tall roof. There was a giant oak in his yard that shaded most of the house and the neighbor’s, too. As I spilled out of the car, I looked way up at it and around it. It would take at least four of me to circle its trunk, hand to hand. I thought it could give my maple a good run in the beautiful department. There were more oak trees leaning across and over the street, touching branches as if they were sweethearts.

Daddy grasshoppered around, pointing. “Those are our camellias, and the mimosa that’ll be by your window, and look at the crepe myrtles. Isn’t it something?” He hopped back to the car and began pulling out our things.

I stood still while he swirly-whorled. He held the suitcase and my bag and smiled at me. I took the bag from him and held tight to it. It was so hot I thought my brains would cook and I’d lose all my thoughts.

We went through the front door into the living room. But nothing was like home. Daddy’s Louisiana house had shiny red-colored wood floors, and there was a rug in front of a black leather couch that was up against the wall. A marble-topped coffee table was on top of the rug. Two big chairs were around the table, with another smaller chair up against the side wall. Framed pictures were hung on every wall.

At home, Momma liked to hang different things on different days. Sometimes pictures of us, sometimes Micah’s drawings, and the pictures from magazines she liked.

Daddy dropped our things on the floor and pointed around again. His mouth moved fast.

My feelings were in a bad hurt. I thought Micah would be waiting for me. Rebekha wasn’t around either, but I didn’t care one speck. I wondered if Daddy was rid of her. But the door opened and Rebekha walked in with two bags of groceries. She looked right into my eyes for signs of a baby who missed her momma. I’d show her I was no crybaby.

“Hello, Virginia Kate. I hoped to be back by the time you arrived, but the Bet R was busy today.” She smiled her gap-toothy grin and left the room with her groceries.

I felt itchy, thinking that maybe I’d been tricked. That maybe Micah was on his way back to West Virginia and we’d been traded.

Daddy turned to me. “Go help Rebekha with the groceries and I’ll put your stuff in your room. Go through that door, it’s just past the dining room.”

I knew what he was doing. Five times five equals twenty-five. Five times six equals thirty.

I went to the kitchen. Rebekha came over and hugged me. I pulled away from her. I didn’t need her to go hugging on me none.

She took a step back. “Well, let’s see, okay. I better get all this put away.”

I stood in the middle of the kitchen and watched her.

“How was your trip? Did you see lots of things?”

My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. My feet were stuck to the floor. My brain was cooked. And Micah was on his way to West Virginia.

She poured a glass of milk, then held it out toward me before she asked, “Would you like a glass of milk?” I didn’t take it, so she set it on the counter. “Well, yes. Let’s see.” She put up the last of the groceries. After she folded the empty bags, she dusted her hands together and asked, “Well, would you like to see your room now, Hon?”