The Secrets of Peaches (8 page)

“H
e was
terrified
of me,” Lucretia told Leeda, pulling into an empty parking spot at Buck's Creek Nature Preserve the day before Thanksgiving. Leeda watched her, listening raptly. Her mother's face was flushed and animated. She'd been telling Leeda how her dad had proposed. All her life, Leeda had never heard the story.

“Of course he was.” Leeda's stomach hurt from laughing. Everyone was terrified of her mother. She couldn't imagine how scary it would be to also be in love with her.

“I mean, honey.” Lucretia reached out and took Leeda's fingers. “His hands were shaking. I'm telling you, they were
quaking
.” She shook Leeda's hands to demonstrate. Leeda noticed the moistness of her mom's palm and studied her face, which was covered in a fine layer of dew. It worried her. But she forced herself to laugh.

They climbed out of the car and brushed themselves off. Leeda wore a thick green wool cardigan and jeans. She was supposed to dedicate the new nature trail at five and then head home to get her things ready for the Pecan Festival tomorrow
morning. Leeda couldn't believe tomorrow was her Pecan Queen finale already. She looked at her mom's dewy complexion again and wondered if things between them would change back after pecan season was over.

It was brilliantly cold and bright as they made their way toward the small gaggle of people already standing at the head of the trail. They listened as the park rep—Mindy, by her name tag—explained the many benefits of the new trail, including a convenient view of the wild turkey dam and the bat flight that took place at dusk.

Lucretia shot Leeda a bored look and Leeda looked bored back, as if they were in on some private joke. But the truth was, Leeda wasn't bored. She liked hearing about the bats. She wanted to memorize as much as she could to tell Birdie later.

When the talk was over, Leeda smiled and cut the ribbon. Photos were taken and the small crowd dispersed. Mindy stood by the large wooden trail map at the edge of the parking lot, waving.

“Are we allowed to go see the bat cave?” Leeda asked. She felt like Birdie's spy, casing the joint.

Mindy shrugged. “If you want. Just follow the trail. Straight down, about two hundred yards.”

Leeda looked at her mom hopefully. Lucretia scrunched up her face. “Come on, it'll be good.” The minute the words left her lips, Leeda felt the pressure. She didn't know if it would be good or not.

They walked gingerly through the dried leaves, Lucretia keeping a careful eye on her clothes as Leeda pushed the branches aside. She felt like any moment her mom would call the whole
thing off and head back to the car. She hoped they didn't hit any spiderwebs.

The cave, when they came to it, was a black jagged slice, encrusted like a black jewel into the wooded slope. To the left, the land swept downward into a low valley. Leeda crept up to the cave and peered into the dark curiously, then peered back at her mom. “Want to see?”

Lucretia shook her head, looking stiff and uncomfortable. “It's quiet out here.”

To Leeda, it felt like they were the only two people for miles. She couldn't remember ever having her mom so wholly and completely to herself.

“Birdie says if you catch it at the right time, you see the babies too. But I think that's spring.”

The air got darker around them. They both fidgeted, nervous. Leeda thought she could hear something. But no. And then it got louder—a
thrum thrum thrum
.

Leeda stepped back, suddenly afraid. And then the bats burst out of the cave. Leeda stumbled backward into her mom, who grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close. She could feel the air of hundreds of wings flapping and hear the soft, tiny
thwaps
and the tiny chirps and squeaks. Her heart was in her feet as they flew past.

As they watched, the flock looked like it was swimming through the sky, up above the low trees. Leeda turned to follow the bats' progress over the woods and into the valley. They moved off like a spot of ink, diluting as they got farther away. Lucretia let go of her shoulders and she sank forward.

And then Leeda started to laugh.

It wasn't a laugh at it being funny. It was a laugh from fear, relief, and the tickle of the wind of the bats. Behind her, her mother laughed too.

 

They were quiet in the car on the way home. Leeda watched the occasional house zip by, set back from the street, obscured by trees or tall grass, on the long country road that ran between Buck's Creek and Bridgewater. The heater was blowing directly on her knees, and she held up a hand to warm her fingers. The car smelled like heat.

Occasionally Leeda glanced over at her mom. She opened her mouth, then looked out the window. Finally she got up the nerve to break the silence.

“Mom?” They were coming into Bridgewater city limits.

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Did I do something? Sometime? Did I do something wrong?”

Lucretia kept her eyes on the road. Her forehead wrinkled slightly. “What do you mean?”

Leeda kept her hands firmly on her lap and looked out the window. “We've always had this…thing. You know…it's different with Danay. When you look at her, you look different than when you look at me. I just want to know if I did something to make you feel that way.”

The warmth seemed to seep right out of the car. Lucretia sat up straighter. Leeda felt immediately that she had said the wrong thing.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

They drove on, Leeda fiddling with her fingernails and looking out of the window. When her mom turned into the driveway, she cleared her throat and let out a deep breath. She had the door open before she'd even pulled the key out of the ignition. The cold air burst in and made Leeda zip up her coat as they climbed out.

Leeda followed her mom up the long walkway that led to the front door, winding its way through shrubs shaped in squares. She couldn't walk fast enough to keep up with her. “Mom, please, I just want you to be honest with me. I can take it. Mom?
Mom.
”

Lucretia was fumbling for her keys, than stopped at the door and turned toward Leeda, looking disappointed, annoyed. It was a look Leeda was used to. But it was too late for her to go back. She wouldn't let herself.

Leeda swallowed, hard. “Mom, do you
like
me?”

“That's a ridiculous question.” Lucretia turned and pushed her key into the door.

“Mom. Please stop. I'm talking to you.”

“No, you're not. This conversation is over.”

“But…”

Crack.

The front door opened. Danay stood in the doorway, with her long brown hair in a thick red headband like Snow White herself. She smiled a big white smile and reached out to hug their mom like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Gobble gobble,” she said.

“S
he's not coming?” Murphy cocked her head dramatically, following Leeda down Main Street on Thanksgiving morning. She sipped her Pumpkin Spice coffee from Dunkin' Donuts.

“Of course she's coming. She's just behind me. I think she's having breakfast.”

Murphy's stomach growled at the word
breakfast
. She looked behind her, as if Lucretia might materialize in the crowd.

As happened in Georgia, the cold had gone warm just when you thought winter was setting in. It was light-jacket weather. Sometimes it did Murphy's head in. She longed for real
winter
winter. She always had.

People had started rolling in to the festival at dawn, so now, at eight thirty, the booths were already set up on either side of Main Street, loaded with baked goods made by the teachers at Bridgewater Middle School, wreaths and handmade soaps and jelly candles from the Curious Cottage Gift Shop, a quilt being raffled by the Divine Grace of the Holy Redeemer. Murphy glanced longingly at the junk food stalls. “Do you think the fried Mars bar truck will be here?”

“You're such a guy.” Leeda readjusted the garment bag she was carrying, trying to keep it steady over one shoulder.

“I like my guy-like qualities,” Murphy said, trying not to scan the crowd for Rex. As usual, she'd been avoiding him. Over the past three weeks, she'd seen him a handful of times, letting him come over to play Ping-Pong in the cold parking lot one time, letting him watch late-night TV with her and her mom for a few nights, fooling around with him in his room twice when his dad was out. She wanted to make sure she kept him unsure of the next time he'd see her. Like Leeda had said, she wanted to make sure he knew what it was like not to have her. But today—today was the day he'd promised her an answer about New York.

The pecan booths were at the end of the line. There were several from different pecan growers around the county. They saw Birdie's booth with a banner that read
DARLINGTON ORCHARD
, but no Birdie.

“Did you bring the pecan goodies?” Murphy asked. The pecan goodies were the Pecan Queen's signature duty. Macy's had Santa at the end of their parade to launch the Christmas season and keep the universe moving along on time. In Bridgewater, the Christmas season didn't begin until an airborne pecan goodie socked you in the eye.

“Mom's bringing them.”

“You know if she doesn't show up and you don't have pecan goodies to throw, the kids are going to riot.”

Leeda rolled her eyes.

They ran into Leeda's grandmom, who was with her chauffeur. She was wearing her old tiara and making him help her
find the drink cart. “Don't forget to sit erect,” she said, patting Leeda's hip and disappearing into the crowd.

All the parade exhibits and participants were cloistered, like every year, in the parking lot behind the middle school. Leeda and Murphy made their way to the back of the crowd—past a rolling petting zoo, the Elks Club, the Freemasons, the Duck Carvers club, the Young Riders, Little Miss Kings County, and the Bridgewater High School band. Leeda would be on the last float with the famous pecan goodies in tow.

Rex was standing at the float with the rest of Leeda's court, Dina Marie and Melissa Gentian, a gorgeous little junior. Dina Marie laughed loud and donkey-like at something Rex had said, but Murphy was above being jealous. They both seemed to dote on her boyfriend, who sensed her watching and looked behind him. Before Dina Marie could see, Murphy made a bucktooth face at her back, and Rex shook his head but smiled. Of
course
he was waiting for her. Murphy's heart leapt with triumph.

Leeda disappeared into the bathroom to dress, and Murphy sauntered up to Rex. Would he tell her now? Later?
When?

“Hey.” He put his hand at the side of her neck, kissing her. “I've been calling you.”

“Been so busy with Miss Queenie.” Murphy rolled her eyes in exaggerated exhaustion toward the bathroom. “How's it going?”

“How's it going? Did we just meet or something?” Murphy shrugged. Rex kept his hand at her neck. “I figured this was my rare chance to see my girlfriend up early.”

Murphy swallowed. She waited for him to say more. He
didn't. The four of them stood there eyeballing one another, casting about for something to say until out of the corner of her eye, Murphy saw Leeda waving to her from the bathroom. “Royal duties,” she said, walking backward.

Leeda was half dressed and agitated. “Can you just start on my hair until my mom gets here?”

Murphy pointed to the tangle on top of her own head. “Have you seen my hair?”

Leeda shoved a curling iron into the pointing hand. “Just curl it.”

Murphy took the iron reluctantly and felt to see if it was hot enough. She gazed at Leeda, sizing up her head, then glanced back out through the bathroom door, which was propped open.

“What if your mom flakes out, Lee?” Murphy was just looking for a reason to have both of Lucretia's eyebrows waxed off at the Cawley-Smith Spa. She knew people who could do that. Aestheticians who owed her favors.

“She's coming.” Leeda looked at her watch. “Nothing starts for another half hour.”

Murphy started on the hair. When that was done, she started on the makeup. “Mom says put it on a little thick. You have to make sure it shows up from far away,” Leeda said.

By the time Murphy was finished with her, Leeda looked like a cheap hooker from the seventies.

Murphy hesitated a moment before letting her look in the mirror. Already the confidence of an hour earlier—when she'd picked Murphy up at Anthill Acres, fresh as a violet—had seeped out of Leeda's face. When she stood up and looked at
her reflection, any remaining self-assurance drained away. “I look like Elvira,” she said.

 

For a long while, they stood in the doorway to the bathroom, Leeda's eyes scanning the crowd. At five till, she murmured quietly, “She's got the pecan goodies.” The people at the beginning of the parade began moving. It would be a matter of minutes before the float at the back kicked into gear. “Maybe something happened. Maybe she's not feeling well.”

Murphy's rib cage hurt. She tugged on her full bottom lip, shooting a sideways glance at Leeda. “Maybe she's on her way…” she found herself saying halfheartedly.

Leeda shook her head, crossing her arms tightly around herself.

The Pecan Princesses were waving to her expectantly. Dina Marie had a big, dramatically anxious look on her face.

Murphy didn't reach out to touch or hug Leeda. Wrapped up in her own arms and standing rod-straight, Leeda looked like she had an invisible wall around her, and Murphy didn't want to broach it. She was the picture of calm. Murphy knew that Leeda being calm was worse than being upset. It meant she was too upset to be upset.

“You better hurry. You can't let down the other nuts,” Murphy said, trying to make light. But Leeda didn't acknowledge the comment.

She turned her gray eyes to Murphy. “Will you do this for me?”

Murphy looked at her, a small panic building in her gut. Leeda was gesturing down at her dress.

“Do what?”

Leeda waved her hands down at her dress again, then reached back to unzip it.

“Oh no.” Murphy groaned.

“I don't want to be up there, Murphy.” She started pulling at the neckline.

“Neither do I.” Murphy looked at the float, at the princesses. Dressing up as one of them would be like Maribeth McMurtry dressing up like Satan. It was against everything Murphy stood for. “Just skip it,” she said desperately. “They don't need a Pecan Queen.”

“Please.” Leeda clawed Murphy's wrist. “Please, please, please.”

“Leeda.” Murphy swallowed, looking at the float again. It disgusted her. “No way.”

Leeda stopped unzipping. She looked Murphy hard in the eye. Her face settled into smooth, clean lines. And then she zipped herself back up and sailed out of the bathroom.

 

Birdie heard the booing before she caught a glimpse of the float. Now that the parade was almost at the last leg, some sort of small upheaval was rippling through the younger members of the crowd. Birdie stood on her tiptoes to try and see why. When she saw who they were booing at, she gasped, bewildered.

Leeda stood on the float in her long brown dress, her hair in straggly, puffy curls, her arms at her sides, shoulders drooped. Her eyes were made up in deep gray shadow and her cheeks were as rosy as a Kewpie doll's. A tight, quivering smile was plastered to her face. Then she looked down at her hands, which
picked at each other nervously like cats in a fight. Birdie looked at her empty hands too and finally realized what the booing was about.

Where were the pecan goodies?

 

Leeda had never had so many people looking at her at once. Their faces were a mixture of confusion, disillusionment, and fear. She wondered if Murphy had put on the makeup a little too thickly.

In the crowd, she spotted Birdie and gave her a desperate look, as if Birdie could somehow rescue her. Birdie looked back at her and held up her hands helplessly. Leeda took a deep, shuddering breath. The worst thing she could do was let herself look like she felt. What she felt, more than anything at that moment, was angry at Murphy. She couldn't think what it would have cost Murphy to just step up, this one time, and rescue her. If the roles had been reversed, Leeda would have done it in a heartbeat. Leeda clenched her teeth, explosive inside.

From her spot on the platform, she had a bird's-eye view of a few interesting things. She could see her grandmother, intrepidly pushing to the front of the crowd, waving her little munchkin fists proudly. She could see Lucretia wasn't anywhere near her. And she could see the wrath that the absence of the pecan goodies appeared to cause. She had never let so many people down.

But she kept the smile plastered on her face. And then she felt the faint sting of something hitting her shoulder. And before she could make sense of it, there were more—hitting her on the head, the face, the back. Her smile faded. She shielded her face
with her hands and peered around, finally taking it in. The little kids were rioting. They were pelting her with pecans.

Leeda wanted to sink into the bottom of the float. She wanted to cease to exist. Instinctively she looked around for Rex because for years that was what she'd always done. She made him out just at the back of the crowd, with Murphy, of course. The two of them—Leeda's ex-boyfriend and her best friend—were talking and laughing and sharing a fried Mars bar. Apparently they hadn't noticed the ruckus. Leeda's heart went steely, watching them. For a moment, she wavered between climbing off the float and disappearing into the giant pecan behind her.

Taking the humiliation up another notch, she could see Grandmom Eugenie running alongside the float now, wobbly and minuscule, as she grabbed one of the rioting kids by the ear. If Leeda hadn't been so close to crying, she would have laughed. It seemed entirely appropriate that only a geriatric munchkin had come to her defense.

Leeda felt the muscles in her body harden like they were rocks. The wave of anger she felt, at her mom, at Murphy, at herself, threatened to swallow her. It was sharp, but to her surprise, it wasn't new. It was like something that had been just behind her, waiting to catch up.

Leeda lifted her hands and began waving. She closed her eyes when another volley of pecans arrived. She adopted an old tried-and-true trick and pretended like she couldn't care less.

And of course, she kept smiling.