Tender Graces (39 page)

I said, “No you haven’t, Momma,” because I saw it coming back.

Uncle Jonah and Aunt Billie came by often. I liked seeing their smiles and the way everything was so simple with them. Mrs. Mendel and Aunt Billie made quick friends, walking in the garden and blabbervating on about vegetables and flowers. With my camera, we took pictures of each other. Uncle Jonah said he’d get them developed for me.

On a cool evening, we plopped on the steps with lemonade. Momma stayed inside like always.

Mrs. Mendel asked about Micah and Andy.

I told about Micah’s paintings and how good he was at it, and about how Andy was a daredevil, and how Bobby loved baseball so much he slept with his bat on the other pillow. I told about Rebekha and how she had a sourpuss momma, but she was a good one herself. And about Louisiana, how moldy green, spongy-wet and hot it was, how the moss dripped down, the egrets white-as-clouds-beautiful but have a croaky froggy call that doesn’t match how they look. I went on about Miss Darla seeing signs and her funny dog with a movie star name, the Campinelle’s football parties. Mrs. Mendel and Aunt Billie grinned as if they’d eaten a big piece of pie and it tasted better than any they’d ever had.

Aunt Billie said, “Oh, we should all visit sometimes.”

I felt as if things might not be so bad.

Then one afternoon when bloated storm clouds drifted, ready to let birth all the pressure they held, Momma took up talking ugly to everybody. The four of us were picking a bouquet of wildflowers when she stuck out her head from the window and hollered for Mrs. Mendel to mind her own bees-wax. Mrs. Mendel’s eyes went round, same as her mouth. Aunt Billie humphed under her breath, and Uncle Jonah turned to look at Momma.

Momma said, “I got my daughter here to take care of things, why you three have to hang around all the time? Look at her, almost grown up. Isn’t she the prettiest? Huh? Prettier than her momma, don’t you think?”

Aunt Billie said, “And I hope you appreciate what you got here, Katie.”

“Don’t be telling me what to appreciate, Billandra-Sue. You aren’t the one suffering.”

“I’ve had my share of suffering that’s none of your concern.”

“Uh huh, sure you have. My brother treats you like a queen. My daughter looking up to you like you’re more special than me, I reckon.” Momma rubbed the spot where her hair was growing back from the nurse shaving it. “But you never had your own kids, did you? Have to borrow other people’s babies. You too, Mrs. Mendel. The both of you with your empty wombs and think you know it all.”

I stared at Momma, my face heating up from my neck to the roots of my hair.

Mrs. Mendel pressed her hand over her mouth to stop her crying and ran in the house. Aunt Billie went after her, calling out, “Wait! Don’t let her talk to you that way.”

“That’s enough, Sister,” Uncle Jonah said. “Mrs. Mendel and Billie’s been coming round helping you and you talk like that?”

Momma tossed her head and left the window.

After that, Aunt Billie stopped coming by so much, so did Mrs. Mendel. Uncle Jonah still came in to drop off groceries and check on us, but he didn’t look happy about the way Momma zapped her tongue at him.

To rub my skin more raw, Jade wrote me and went on and on about her new boyfriend and how in love they were and how they’d kissed. Andy-and-Bobby sent two letters in one envelope, both saying
Come home right now
(and Andy said, goddamnit!),
Seestor
. There was a package of chocolate chip cookies from Rebekha, with a sweet note added. Miss Darla sent me another diary, in case I filled up the one I had (and I remembered I’d left my necklace in Louisiana). Amy Campinelle wrote to tell me football season would be there before I knew it, so I better hurry on home. Micah sent me a drawing of me with a stubborn pout mouth. And Daddy was quiet.

I had a big powerful ache deep in my belly, searing up to my heart.

I wrote in the new diary all the things I couldn’t say aloud. I ended with,
I miss my mountain so much when I’m in Louisiana. When I’m in Louisiana, I mourn for West Virginia. When I’m here, I miss my family so much. I’m Virginia Kate and I’m a crazy girl.

I tried to sleep and I couldn’t. It was a black-blanket night. I slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Momma was at the table, the bottle of vodka Uncle Jonah brought just yesterday in front of her, almost empty. The smoke from her cigarette curled up to the ceiling. She picked up the bottle and drank from it, she stabbed out the cigarette. She held a letter in her other hand, and there were more envelopes stacked beside her.

I waited.

When she put her head down on her arm, let the letter slip from her fingers, and was still, I sneaked up and said, “Momma?” She didn’t move, so I picked up the letter and read.

Katie Ivene, Did you really think I’d leave Rebekha and bring the children back to West Virginia? We had a deal. You accepted what Mother offered. Live with that decision. It would have been the right thing to let Rebekha adopt the children and you well know it. You never could stand that I left you, could you? Rebekha doesn’t deserve this. The children, either. For that matter, neither do I. Frederick Hale
.

I put down the letter, went to my room, and swallowed five aspirin. Laying across my bed, I tried to make my breathing come in and out slow. I remembered the adoption day and how Rebekha cried, how everything was ruined. And Momma, coming down just to fool with Daddy, not caring if it hurt us kids. And what deals and offers? My head pounded until I finally ran to the bathroom and threw up.

Momma hollered out, “What’s going on in there?”

But I couldn’t answer. Hate and mad and worry and sad were all emptying from deep inside of me and spilling into the toilet.

Chapter 31

Go back to that woman in Loo-see-aner

I still had a nasty sour taste on my tongue from the night before and my stomach hurt. While waiting for the coffee water to boil, I dialed. The phone only rang twice before she answered.

“Hello?” The hello sounded so full to the top with hope, I felt like bawling.

“Rebekha? It’s Virginia Kate.”

“Oh, Hon. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m just calling.” I heard her soft breathing. “Just seeing what everybody’s doing, I guess.”

“You sound tired. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” The kettle whistled and I took it off the fire. “She’s been pretty sick.” I added two teaspoons of sugar to my own cup first. “I give her medicine and help her stretch.” A teaspoon of Maxwell House. “And I sweep the house and wash dishes.” Add water, stir. “I cook things.” Add cream, stir it around some more. “I made cornbread like you showed me and it tasted perfect.” Sip, swallow.

“You’re a hard worker, Virginia Kate.”

It felt like Rebekha was far off to the moon, or maybe I was. “What’s my stupid brothers doing?”

“Andy is with Dan and Neil, probably doing something dangerous.” She laughed, then said, “Micah spent yesterday evening painting a portrait of Miss Darla. He’s at the art supply store right now, I believe.” I heard water running and I pictured her at the sink, washing the breakfast dishes. “Bobby’s in his room reading. Let me get him or he’ll have a fit.”

I sipped coffee while Rebekha called to Bobby. I heard his running steps and felt the ache press hard.

His voice slammed into my ear. “Hey meestor seestor! Are you coming home? Are you? When? Today? I’ve got stuff to show you. Stump said you were a good ball thrower for a girl. He said Wayne got a girlfriend, but she’s stupid. You should see the lake, it’s all high up from a rain and I saw a snake but I didn’t kill it and Andy fell and hurt his leg, there was blood everywhere and Mom had to fix him and Micah showed me how to draw a dragon and he said I did a real good job.”

When he finally ran out of air, I said, “Slow down, I can’t keep up with all that.” But I did.

“Are you coming home?” He asked again.

“Well, Momma’s still not doing so good.”

“Oh. Okay. Here’s Mom.” While he passed the phone, I heard him say. “Make her come home, Mom.”

“So, things are okay? You are doing okay?”

“I’m fine. But I have to go, it’s long distance.” I put down my coffee and held the phone with both hands.

“Oh! I wasn’t thinking about the long distance bills! Please, call collect. Anytime day or night, okay?”

“Rebekha?”

“Yes, Hon?”

I wanted to tell her I loved her, but I’d never said it to her before, instead I said what meant the same thing, “I miss your popcorn lots.” I then said, “Tell everybody I miss them lots. And tell Miss Darla, too?”

“I will.”

When I hung up, I turned to see Momma standing in the doorway with a big smarmy-smirk on her face. “I miss you; oh I miss you so much.” She made smacky noises, then said, “You don’t have to stay here, you know. I didn’t ask you to.”

“But you did. You did ask me to stay and help you.” I tried not to stare at her sprouty new hair. “You said you didn’t want to be alone.”

“Well, I reckon I did. But I thought you wanted to be with me, too. Not with
that
woman.”

I picked up my cup. “Rebekha’s nice, Momma. If you’d just get to know her.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s a goody goody gumdrop.” She pointed to the coffee. “Did you make that for me?”

“It’s mine. I’ll get yours.” She sat at the table and watched as I stirred hers. I set it in front of her. “Just as you like it, Momma.”

She took a sip, then said, “Whew Nelly. That’s hot, but good. Clears the head. Except you forgot how I really like it.” She pushed on the table to stand, shuffled to the counter, picked up the dark rum, took it to the table with her, and poured a splash into her coffee. With her eyes closed, she took a bigger sip, then, “There.”

I got eggs, butter, and milk, two slices of bread to toast, and from the cabinet, a skillet to fry the eggs in. I cut on the fire low, put the skillet on, and added butter to the skillet.

“Tell me all about this Roo-becker and your pick-pack-daddy-whack. Are they happy go lucky in their happy go lucky home?”

I cracked the eggs in a bowl. “I don’t know, Momma.”

“Sure you do. You live there don’t you? Or lived there.” I heard the splash as she poured more rum in her cup. “What’s it like in Shakeslove land?”

While whipping the eggs, I added a bit of milk, salt and pepper. “Well, Micah says he’s going to New York when he graduates.”

“Uh huh.”

I poured the eggs in the buttered skillet. “Andy makes straight A’s and B’s, except for a C in math.”

“That’s Andy and that’s Micah. What about you?”

“We have a brother named Bobby. He’s cute.” I popped the bread in the toaster, stirred the eggs.

“I asked about you. How do you like this momma you have now? Huh?”

“But you’re my momma.” I took her cup and fixed her more coffee. I stirred the eggs again. I looked inside the toaster to hurry the toast.

“Don’t play games. Just answer the question.”

“I don’t know, Momma. She’s a good person.”

“And I reckon I’m not?” Splash in cup.

The eggs were fluffy, I divided them on two plates. I flipped the lever to make the toast pop up. I spread butter and jam on them.

Momma drained her cup, then said, “I did the best I could. I don’t know what else to say.” She eased up slow and wobbled at the table.

“I know you did, Momma. I know.” I helped her to her bedroom. “I’ll give you your breakfast in bed, okay?”

“Whatever. Bring the rest of the rum, will you?”

“Momma, no.”

“I’m the momma and you’re the kid. What I say goes. Zip zippo endo.”

I felt like the bird that had been trapped inside the house in Louisiana. A dark bird with bright eyes, wild with being scared. It flew from window to window, flapping its wings and making chirpy sounds. I ran and opened the front door, trying to help it out, but it didn’t know what it was supposed to do. It just kept flying all over the living room. Rebekha finally threw a towel over it, picked it up, and then let it go outside. When it flew away, it never looked back, just kept going and going until it was gone.

After breakfast, while Momma took a nap, I rinsed white beans and then put them to soak. From the window, I saw Mrs. Mendel in her garden, so I went outside.

“Hey.”

“There you are.” She picked two tomatoes and handed one to me. “You still sound like West Virginia, but you got a little extree something thrown in there, too. Must be that Louisiana.” She bit into hers, letting the juice dribble down her arm.

“I don’t know how I sound.” I bit into mine. It was warm and sweet and the juice trickled down my arm same as her. I made a “mmmm” sound.

“Let’s pick more for your supper tonight.”

“I’m making beans and cornbread. Rebekha taught me how to cook.” I popped the rest of the tomato in my mouth and squished the juice with my tongue.

We pulled more tomatoes from the vines and set them in a basket.

“That Rebekha sounds sweet.” She stopped picking. “She is, isn’t she?”

“Yes Ma’am.” I wiped my hands on my jeans. “Well, I better go and check on Momma.”

“She doing okay? Poor soul.” Mrs. Mendel couldn’t stay mad at Momma.

“She’s fine.”

She handed me the basket. “My nephew’ll be coming for a visit soon. You two would get along right as rain.”

“I got to go now, Mrs. Mendel. Thanks for the tomatoes.”

I went inside. Momma was hollering. I ran to her room. She was on the floor, blood like lipstick on her mouth. I helped her into bed and went to the bathroom for a washrag to wipe her face.

“I fell and hit the goddamn night table. Pain pills making me woozy-loozy.”

“You got to be careful, Momma.”

“I need a bath and I need some ice for my drink. Some lemon, too. And a pad and some paper. What’s that on your shirt? I’ve never seen a girl so messy. Wipe your mouth and arm, too.”

Bird’s wings went a-flying all over the place.