The Scent of Lilacs (5 page)

“I have a hard enough time getting along with Aunt Love,” Jocie told Wes. “Now here you are pushing stepmothers at me.”

“You’ve read too many fairy tales. A stepmother might be the very thing to keep you straight.”

“Dad keeps me straight already.” Jocie shifted in her chair. She liked Wes talking to her as if she was a grown-up most of the time, but sometimes he made her think about things she’d rather forget.

“Your father don’t know where you are half the time. I’ll bet he don’t know where you are right now.”

“I left him a note, but he won’t read it. He’s holed up in his room trying to come up with the sermon of the year.”

“Oh yeah, the good people out there are voting tomorrow,” Wes said. “But that’s where a stepmother would come in handy. And I think we’ve got a candidate.”

“A candidate? Who?” Jocie asked.

“That Leigh Jacobson who works down at the courthouse. Ain’t you noticed how she keeps dropping by the paper to bring this or that notice for publication? I figure she’s coming by to get a glimpse of a certain somebody.”

“Maybe it’s you she’s stuck on.”

“Well, I thought so too at first, but I asked her to take a spin on my bike, and she turned white as blank newsprint. But I’ve noticed she always gets a nice rosy hue when your daddy’s around.”

“Leigh Jacobson at the clerk’s office?” Jocie made a face. “She’s sort of fat, isn’t she?”

“I heard her telling Zella that she’s dieting. Already lost ten pounds. Besides, a woman with a little weight on her might be a good cook.”

“I don’t think we should pick out a girlfriend for Dad by how she can cook. He might have other ideas of what to look for.”

“Cooking is a big plus.” Wes waved his hand at his hot plate. “A man gets tired of beans and burgers after a while. And besides, Leigh’s a nice girl. That’s what your daddy needs. Somebody nice who can take care of him and make him happy.”

“And keep me straight,” Jocie said.

“Well, that might be too much to expect. Especially now that you got this Jupiterian dog. No telling the scrapes he’ll get you into.”

Jocie laughed. Then her smile disappeared as she said, “You were here before my mother left. Tell me about her.”

Wes got up and took the skillet over to the sink. He ran some water in it and then let it set. Jocie waited. Wes always answered her sooner or later. Zebedee put his head down on top of her feet.

Wes got a soft drink out of his little refrigerator and popped off the top. He poured half of it into a glass and handed it to Jocie, then took a drink out of the bottle. He rubbed the palm of his hand over the top and sat back down in his easy chair next to the window.
He stared out at the fading sunlight, and Jocie began to think she might have to leave for home before he answered her. Finally he said, “I didn’t know her all that well. She hardly ever came to the office, and I didn’t go to your house much then. If I wanted free food, I went to your Mama Mae’s house. Now, she could cook.”

“I loved her tomatoes and macaroni.”

“Mmm, and those chocolate pies. She should have opened a restaurant and gotten rich. She had a gift.”

“I don’t remember my mother cooking, but surely she did. I mean, Daddy was preaching then too. People were bound to be giving him beans and stuff.”

“If they did, your Mama Mae was probably the one who cooked it for you. Your mother, she wasn’t Mrs. Sally Housewife, but she was a looker. Prettiest woman I ever saw, and I’ve seen my share, drifting around the country in a spaceship.”

“Do I look like her?”

Wes gave her face a close look. “Can’t say as I think you do.”

“But I don’t look like Daddy either.”

“No,” Wes said. “But sometimes it’s good to just look like yourself.”

“Tabitha looked like Mama, didn’t she?”

“She did. Same coloring. Same eyes. She was at that twixt-and-tween age when I knew her, but she showed promise of being real pretty.”

“Not something you’d say about me,” Jocie said. Her face was too long, her eyes too big, her mouth too wide.

“That’s true. Pretty don’t suit you. It’s too common. You’re going to be a stunner—one of those girls who breaks all the boys’ hearts.”

“And that’s going to happen any day now, I guess.” Jocie grinned. “Why, next fall when school starts, I’ll have to take Zeb with me to keep the boys away.”

“I expect they’ll make a special rule about guard dogs just for
you, and old Harlan here will get to go to Earth school and store up all kinds of interesting information to take back to Jupiter. Maybe that’s what Jackson Jupiter had in mind when he made him into a dog.”

“You’re crazy, Wes.”

“I think the word is
Jupiterian
.” He finished off the bottle of pop and blew into the top to make an odd tune.

“
I’ll
be a Jupiterian before that ever happens. I’m not even sure I’d want it to happen.” Jocie shuddered at the thought of any of the boys at school trying to kiss her. “You think there’s something wrong with me feeling like that?”

“Naw. You’ll change your mind in a few years.”

“Tabitha had boyfriends before she left. One of them gave her a big red heart-shaped box of chocolates on Valentine’s Day. The box is still in the closet at home.”

“So?”

“Well, Dad says she was my age when they left, but when I think about her, it seems like she was older. I remember her looking grown-up, if you know what I mean. And me, I don’t think I’m ever going to need a bra.” Jocie’s face went a little pink. “I guess I shouldn’t talk about bras to you. Aunt Love would have a calf.”

“She might, and truth is, I ain’t no expert on the subject of female underwear, which is another argument for a stepmother.”

“But Leigh Jacobson?” When Jocie thought about it, she had been running into the woman a lot lately. And she had been overly friendly, asking how Jocie was doing and asking after her father. Jocie was sort of used to that from church folks, who were always being nice to her to make points with the preacher. But Leigh Jacobson went to the First Baptist Church in town. Jocie’s father never got invited to fill the pulpit there. “Daddy’s not interested, is he?”

“Oh, you know your dad. He’s either got his head up in the
clouds or down in the Scripture. Half the time he don’t know what’s going on.”

“Was that why he didn’t know my mother was going to leave him? He said he didn’t know she was leaving till she was gone.”

“Sometimes people don’t want to know things. It was pretty plain that your mama wasn’t happy in Hollyhill, had never been happy in Hollyhill.”

“But Dad says she was born here.”

“That don’t mean she had to like it here.”

“No, I guess not,” Jocie said. “Dad says we can have a birthday party for Tabitha even if she isn’t here. I’m going to make a chocolate cake, and we’ll have ice cream. You want to come?”

“Free food. I’ll be there. Are you sending out invites?”

“Maybe. I would send one to Tabitha for sure, but we don’t have an address right now. Dad thinks they’re still in California, but the last letter to Tabitha came back.”

“California. Now there’s a state.”

“Have you been there?”

“Our spaceship landed there a few times. The people never notice you’re Jupiterian there, because they’re all crazier than your average run-of-the-mill outer-space guy. And from the stuff that’s been coming along the news lines, it’s crazier now than it was then, what with all this free love and peace stuff.” Wes held up his hand with his fingers parted in a V.

“Peace is good.”

“That’s a fact, but oft as not hard to come by.” Wes stared down at his empty pop bottle.

Jocie took a sip of her cola. She hated it when Wes got that sad look on his face. She wanted to get up and hug him or something, but when she’d asked her father about it once, he’d said everybody had their demons from the past to deal with and that Wes had his share and she should just wait out his sad times and not bother him about it.

After what seemed like a half hour but probably was only a couple of minutes, Jocie touched Zeb’s head, and the dog raised up and put his nose on her knee. “Anyway, about the party—who knows? The Lord answered my dog prayer. Maybe he’ll answer my sister prayer.”

Wes looked up at Jocie. “Did you ever once imagine anything that looked like that dog there when you were sending up your dog prayers?”

“No, but I like him now that he’s here.”

“That’s good. But what I’m trying to tell you is that if Tabitha were to suddenly appear out of the blue, she wouldn’t be the sister you remember. A lot of years have passed since then.”

“I know that. But it would still be good, wouldn’t it? I mean, it would make Daddy happy and maybe scare off that Leigh Jacobson if Dad had two daughters.”

“Double trouble for sure.” Wes stood up and peered out the window. “Come on, kiddo. It’s done got too dark for you to ride that old bike home. I’ll give you a lift. You can come to work with your dad Monday and get your bike.”

“What about Zeb?”

“He can ride too.”

They sandwiched the dog between them, and he sat still as a stone when Wes revved up the motor and shook awake the sleepy streets of Hollyhill. Jocie loved the way her hair whipped back away from her face as they raced down the road with nothing but the wind and the roar of the motorcycle in her ears. Jocie waved at the people they passed. Some waved back. Others just frowned at this disturbance of the town’s peace and quiet. Wes was always saying that if people didn’t love her daddy so much, they would have run him out of town years ago.

Jocie could think of several Hollyhillers she’d rather run out of town. Mayor Palmor for one. He was always smiling, always shaking hands for votes, even if the election had just ended. Of
course, he never paid much attention to Jocie, seeing as how she was too young to vote. Sometimes he didn’t notice her at all. Jocie didn’t care. That gave her the chance to do some eavesdropping, pick up all kinds of tidbits to pass on to her father. He hardly ever printed any of them. Said he couldn’t publish stories on a hearsay basis. He needed stories with facts to back them up, not town gossips. Wes wasn’t so worried about facts. He always laughed at the stories Jocie brought in and said maybe he’d add some of them to his Hollyhill Book of the Strange.

Maybe she could talk her father into starting a News of the Strange column. This, a dog riding a motorcycle, could be the lead story. Zebedee lifted his head and began barking at the trees rushing past them. His joyous barks would have hurt their ears if the motorcycle hadn’t already been deafening them.

Jocie started laughing. She just had a feeling this was going to be her strangest and best summer ever.

D
avid hadn’t let himself think about being nervous. He had prayed and studied his Scripture. He knew the Bible story frontward and backward. He’d gotten up early to watch the sun come up as he tried to put himself in the crowd that trailed after Jesus hungrier for his words than for food that day so long ago. He had soaked his shoes in the early morning dew of the neighbor’s cow pasture while his hunger pangs reminded him he hadn’t had breakfast. He’d sat on a rock at the edge of the field and thought about sharing a little boy’s lunch of two fish and five loaves with thousands of other hungry people and then seeing the baskets of leftovers after he was too full to eat more. He had his points all lined up in his head and listed one, two, three on the lined notepaper stuck in his Bible. And he’d been sure he was ready to deliver the best sermon of his life.

He wasn’t a great preacher. He could take a person one-on-one through any story in the Bible and help them see the truths laid out there. He could pray with anyone who had a need and help them find comfort in the Lord. He could write a good sermon with all his points and life lessons drawn out clear and simple, but he struggled with his delivery.

He practiced in the woods. He practiced in front of a mirror. He practiced in his car driving to take this or that picture for the newspaper. He had even practiced that morning to Jocie’s ugly
stray dog, who had sat in front of him in the pasture and listened politely. But practice didn’t always make perfect.

Here he was gripping the edges of the pulpit, looking out at pews loaded with Mt. Pleasant faithful while his much-practiced sermon gathered in a hard knot just below his heart. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to cough it up.

David amened Deacon Jackson’s mumbled offertory prayer, and the congregation settled back into the pews, putting up their hymn books and digging in their pockets and purses for money to drop into the offering plates. David tried not to think about his sermon moments away and instead looked at the families. As usual, little Bobby Whitehead was giving his mother fits in the next to back row. She’d already tried Cheerios and a coloring book, but the Cheerios had rolled in four directions under the pews, and Bobby was chewing on the red crayon. She had the three-year-old’s shoulder in a vise grip and was whispering intently in his ear. He was doing his best to wriggle free. She’d be lucky to hear a line of Scripture.

The McDermotts with their three children were on the fourth pew, smiling and ready to look favorably on whatever he said. Aunt Love, in her customary black hat and dress, sat in the pew in front of them, looking sternly expectant as always. Jocie was sitting alone in the second pew from the back even though three other girls near her age sat together about midway on the other side of the church. David wished she was sitting in the middle of the other girls, trying to keep from giggling as the offering plates were being passed.