“Can you give me his number in case something comes up?” I ask, getting my wits about me way too late.
“Sure,” she says. “I’ll text you the contact, but you better not stand him up!”
“Don’t worry,” I say. I wonder if anyone has ever been flat-out run over by a train without sustaining any broken bones. I mean, anyone besides me. Birdie gets up and goes to refill her tea.
“Do you know what you really need, Ace?” Gloria asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No, ma’am,” I say, trying to be honest. My nerves are shot to hell and if she suggests another blind date, I’m afraid I might start squalling uncontrollably.
“You need to find a man who will dance with you,” she says. “And you need to find him.” She points at me. “Not her”—she points to Birdie—“or anyone else can find him for you.” Gloria leans back in her seat. “And when the time is right, I’m sure you will.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling better.
“Are you over here talkin’ about me, Gloria?” Birdie asks when she returns to her seat.
“Oh no, Birdie,” Gloria says. “Of course not.”
*
Lilly and Dax arrive just after one. Lilly looks smashing in a dark green smock, which I suspect she bought specifically for the purpose of standing next to her soldier. Dax is wearing his army outfit, which I hear several people refer to as “ACUs” and the gravity of what’s going on today makes me want to run screaming into the Peacock woods. Everyone is so proud of Dax, proud to speak to him, proud to shake his hand. Several people, including a reporter from the Bugtussle Beacon, snap photos of him and Lilly.
Shortly after they arrive, everyone files into Gloria Peacock’s formal dining room and we all sit around a table three miles long. I wish for a minute that I had invited Hatter to come along with me, but maybe it’s better that I didn’t. When we’re all seated, Gloria stands at the head of the table and, after getting everyone’s attention, says, “I would like to say a word, please. Dax, would you please stand? Thank you.” She smiles at him and continues. “This country has now been at war for a decade, and while we all eagerly await an end, the brave men and women of our military continue to faithfully serve their country. In honor of Sergeant Dax Dorsett, I would like to share this passage from the speech given by former president George Bush in March 2003, which was, as we all know, the beginning: ‘My fellow citizens, the dangers to our country and the world will be overcome. We will pass through this time of peril and carry on the work of peace. We will defend our freedom. We will bring freedom to others. And we will prevail. May God bless our country and all who defend her.’” She raises her glass. “To Sergeant Dorsett.” Everyone raises their glass to Sergeant Dorsett.
“What a fine young man,” Birdie whispers to me. “God bless his good-lookin’ soul.”
*
Later that afternoon, I’m sitting at my kitchen table, staring at Gramma Jones’s garden book. I have the letter in my hand and, after thinking about it for a good long while, I unfold it and begin to read:
Dearest Essie,
I very much enjoyed spending the past few days with you. Thank you for the happiness you have brought into my life. I look forward to seeing you again soon.
Yours,
M. Emerson
“‘Dearest Essie’?” I look down at Buster Loo. “‘Yours’? What does he mean, ‘yours’?” Buster Loo takes off for his secret hiding place behind the love seat. “Who the hell is M. Emerson? What kind of shady name is that?”
I look at the date, June 28, and think for a minute. This was written in the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of high school, which means that I would’ve been at basketball camp, because I was always there during the last week of June. No wonder Gramma Jones always made sure I went to basketball camp every year. She was getting her freak on with M. Emerson!
“Oh my goodness,” I say, tucking the letter back into the book. “I wish I hadn’t read that.”
I call Lilly, but she doesn’t answer, so I call Stacey Dewberry. I’m so desperate to talk to someone that I spill the whole story as soon as she says hello.
“You should not have read that letter,” Stacey tells me.
“Well, I know that now!” I say.
“I mean, it’s like you were spying on your granny while she was taking a bath. Know what I mean? Some things your eyes just weren’t meant to see.”
“Ew, Stacey, that is so gross,” I say, “but also very true.”
“So do you know the guy?” she asks.
“No, I don’t, but I’ve got to figure out who he is and if he’s still around, or if that tree out there was planted for him.”
“Have you looked in the phone book?”
“For what?”
“His name, silly!” she says. “Then you’ll have his address. My granny used the same phone book for years and yours probably did the same. If you can find the phone book, flip it open to the white pages and see if she drew a circle around anyone in the Es. As in Emerson. If she did, that’s probably your, I mean, her guy. But now if you think he’s fishy, he could have—or could’ve had—an unlisted number. Which means your granny might’ve written it in somewhere else on the phone book. If I were you, I’d check inside the front and back covers first. Look for that little box for important numbers. My granny had names and numbers written all over her phone book. That’s why she always kept the same one.”
“That’s brilliant, Stacey,” I say, thinking about the old phone book that’s still in the top of the pantry in the kitchen. “I’ll do that.”
“Great. So do you think Mrs. Stacks is going to fire me tomorrow?”
“What? No! Of course not. She adores you, Stacey. You did her a favor.”
“It certainly didn’t seem that way to me. I haven’t left the house all weekend ’cause I’m afraid I’d get pulled over by Sheriff Jackson and arrested for being a blabbermouth.”
“All’s well that ends well, my friend. No worries. Everything is fine.” I’m guessing, but I don’t tell her that. Everything has to be fine because what’s the alternative? Chloe and J.J. breaking up? I don’t see that happening. “She’ll thank you tomorrow, just you wait and see.”
“So are you sleepin’ with that tubby little baseball coach?”
“What?” I say, completely caught off guard. “You mean Hatter?”
“Coach Hatter, yeah, that one,” she says. “Y’all seemed to be fairly interested in each other’s goods last night.” She sniggers.
“Interested in each other’s goods?” I pause for a minute, not wanting to lie to her, but also not wanting the Dewberry to tell everyone in A and B Hall that I sacked the Hatt last night.
“Yeah, I was sitting right there while y’all were carrying on. Remember?”
“Oh, we’re just friends,” I say.
“Friends with benefits?” she asks. I decide to turn the tables on her.
“Well, what about you? How many of your boyfriends from Friday night have you been getting your freak on with?” I ask, teasing. “That’s really why you haven’t left your house, isn’t it? You’ve had too much company.”
“Oh, I’ve been talking to a few, but nothing serious. I like to be wined and dined before I do the wild thing.” And “thing” is pronounced “thang.” “Or at least burgered and shaked,” she adds, and we both start laughing.
“Stacey Dewberry, you are too much, sister. Too much!”
24
Monday morning, Stacey is not in the conference room when I get there, and I worry for a second that maybe Chloe did fire her. Chloe asks me to have a seat and I’m about to ask about Stacey, when she holds up her left hand, upon which I see a big, round, and very shiny diamond.
“Chloe!” I say, jumping up to give her a hug. “It’s beautiful! Congratulations!” I look around. “But where is Stacey?”
“She came in early because she wanted to apologize for Saturday night, poor thing,” Chloe says. “S
he was so upset, but when I showed her the ring, she got really excited and forgot all about it.”
“That dang Stacey Dewberry.”
“That dang Stacey Dewberry, indeed.”
“Who says loose lips sink ships?” I quip.
“Don’t get carried away.”
“Sorry.”
“You really didn’t say anything to her?” Chloe asks. “Didn’t let something slip?”
“No!” I say. “Are you crazy? I take serious offense to that!”
“She just figured it out all on her own?”
“Well, obviously she did, Chloe. She’s not a total moron—just a good guesser who dresses a little funky.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean to insinuate that I would share the secrets of a trusted friend with someone I’ve only known for approximately one month?”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I guess I would’ve thought the same thing if I were you.” I look at her and she smiles. “So when’s the wedding? How and when did he propose? And, most importantly, why didn’t you call and tell me? And why weren’t y’all at Gloria Peacock’s yesterday? I have so many questions!”
“Well, yesterday, J.J. had to work and I wasn’t feeling great. I called Mrs. Peacock and let her know.”
“Just forgot to call me?”
“I didn’t want to wake you,” she says. “I didn’t know if you and Coach Hatter might be sleeping late. Or not sleeping at all.”
“Very funny, Chloe,” I say. “Now why didn’t you call and tell me about the ring?”
“I didn’t get it until last night.”
“So you were too busy having sex?”
“Ace Jones!”
“Just kidding!” I say, “but I mean, evidently you have, right?”
“Would you please shut up?”
“If you tell me how he proposed, I’ll think about it.”
“He came over when he got off work and I was in the den. He got down on one knee and took my hand and asked me to make him the luckiest man in the world.”
“Was he in uniform?”
“Yes.”
“That is so sexy.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
“Please don’t.”
“So that was that. He told me he’d been planning to ask, just wanted to wait until everything was finished with the house because he was afraid I would get too stressed out.”
“Yeah, that’s what Dax said.”
“How did he know?” I relay the conversation that occurred after she and J.J. left Saturday night and she immediately starts pouting. Then I remind her that J.J. wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. “And technically, he wasn’t keeping a secret. More like strategic man-planning.”
“I guess you’re right,” she says.
“So how mad was he Saturday night?”
“I think it hurt his feelings more than anything but, of course, he didn’t say that.”
“What did he say?”
“He just mainly wondered how Stacey Dewberry knew and he didn’t. I can’t believe she just blurted that out like that.”
“I can.”
“I had quite a bit of explaining to do, but he was very nice because he’s a very nice person.”
“So is he excited now?”
“Very much and so am I. Not to mention tremendously relieved.” She looks at her ring.
“So tell me one more time when our little bundle of joy will arrive.”
“Due date is November 15.”
I do the math. “Y’all made this baby on Valentine’s Day, didn’t you?”
“You better hush!”
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing. That is going to be one good-looking and very serious baby,” I say. “And the wedding?”
“The weekend after school is out, which is the weekend after Memorial Day. That gives us a few weeks to plan and I won’t have to take off work for the honeymoon. We talked about it and decided to have a small ceremony at the house on that Sunday. I was thinking of asking Jalena if she’d cater the reception.”
“That would be right up her alley,” I say. “So can I please start planning your shower now?”
“No! You don’t do that until at least a month before the baby arrives!”
“The wedding shower, Chloe.”
“Oh yes.” She smiles. “About that. We talked about it last night and we want to keep everything low-key and personal,” she says. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to have a small and informal shower around noon on Saturday before the wedding Sunday afternoon.”
“Is that proper?” I ask my friend the etiquette queen.
“I’m not concerned with being proper,” she says. “Everything was proper and formal the first time, and we all know how that turned out. This time, I’m concerned with being realistic and making everything as convenient as possible, and this will make life easy on my people in Jackson and our other out-of-town guests.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t stress yourself out. I want the weekend to be fun and relaxed. I want everyone to hang out and visit and really enjoy themselves.”
“Too easy,” I tell her. “But if you change your mind, let me know.”
“I won’t and I’m going to put together a short list of addresses, which I will print on mailing labels and have to you by the end of the week.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say.
“I’ve already got it half done,” she says.
“Okay, then.” The bell rings and we get up.
“Here,” she says, handing me a folder. “Easy day today.”
“Well, thank God. And, again, congratulations, Chloe. For the ring and the baby. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you, Ace.”
I meet Freddie in the hallway and stop to speak, but he doesn’t acknowledge me, so I turn and keep walking. By the time I get to my assigned classroom, I’m seriously worried about the incriminating photos he took of Stacey and me on Friday night. I don’t see him at break and when I sit down with Stacey at lunch, I ask if she’s talked to him.
“Oh yeah,” she says, unwrapping her sandwich. “He came down to my, uh, Mrs. Mayfield’s classroom during first break.”
“What did he say?” I ask, feeling a nip of jealousy.
“He just talked for a minute, but he asked me not to say anything to anyone about what we discussed.” She looks at the bag of barbecue potato chips in her hand.
“But Stacey,” I whisper. “I’m not anyone. We’re all friends, remember?” I can tell she wants to spill it, so I continue. “He was supposed to bring Cameron to the party, but they never showed up.”
“I know.”
“But why?” I ask. She doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t even look up. Then I have a lightbulb moment. “If it’s something he doesn’t want to talk about, then you should tell me so I won’t have to ask him why he wasn’t there.” She looks up at me. “I won’t say a word to anyone. I promise.”
“Not even Chloe?”
“Of course not. But why would it matter if I told her?” I really have to know what’s going on now.
“He doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Know what?” I ask.
“It’s personal,” she says.
“Not a word. I promise.” I’m dying to know what Freddie Dublin told her that she doesn’t want to tell me, and then I wonder for a brief second how I got sucked into this ridiculous drama. Oh wait, I know. Mr. Hypnotic Snake Eyes with the Intoxicating Cologne. Right.
“Let’s just say that a relationship ended on Saturday, and he didn’t feel like going out Saturday night.”
“A relationship? With who? Did he get into it with Cameron?”
“No. Not her. Someone very important to him, that’s uh, not a female.” She starts cramming potato chips into her mouth. “I’ve said too much. He doesn’t want people to know.”
“Know what?” I ask her, and she just looks at me. “Ah, S
tacey, about that. People already know. It’s not exactly a secret.”
“I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You had to, Stacey! When he did your makeup Friday night, it looked like a freakin’ Hollywood professional had done it! You knew!” She shakes her head. “You suspected?”
“Not at all.”
“You made that crack about the dress.”
“I was joking.”
“Stacey, you’re a horrible liar.”
“I cannot confirm or deny that.”
“It’s not a problem for anyone either way, so don’t worry about it.”
“He’ll lose his job if you tell Chloe. She’s too straight-laced.”
“Is that your word or his?”
“His,” she says. “Oh my stars! I’ve said too much again.”
“Stacey, you have nothing to worry about, okay? I just wonder why he thinks I can’t be trusted.” I look at Stacey. And you can? “Is it because I’m friends with Chloe?”
“I’ve dabbled, okay?”
“Dabbled? In what?” Then I figure it out. “Oh!”
“I told him that one day—in confidence, of course—and now I’m worried that I’ve said too much for real and we’ll both get run out of town and I really need my paycheck this month.” She looks desperate. “Promise me you won’t tell Chloe.”
“Stacey, I won’t. Trust me, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“It most certainly will be that big of a deal if the PTA gets wind of it. You can’t wave stuff like that around like a flag for the whole world to see.”
“Everyone’s personal life should be just that,” I say.
“Well, that sounds good and all, but we both know that’s not the way it is down here in the Bible Belt.”
“Yeah, I know.” I sigh because she’s got me on that one. “We do have a surplus of the self-righteous down here.” I look at her and she looks like she’s about to have a panic attack. “Hey, my lips are sealed. You have nothing to worry about and neither does he. Everyone likes Freddie and everyone likes you. Everything is fine. Nothing has changed. And nothing is going to change because we had this conversation.”
Down and Out in Bugtussle Page 17
