Though it was my birthday, I hadn't thought about my customary dozen red roses all done up in a big vase from Drew until that moment. Momma would have thought I was a new maid coming around to clean the toilets if I'd gone to see her that day. She hadn't had a good day now in a long time. The only way Crystal remembered my birthday was if I reminded her. Then she'd run out to the jewelry store with her father's credit card. I had at least half a dozen little gold pendants with Mom scrolled diagonally across an open heart. They were in a silver jewelry box on the dresser at Drew's house.
Had Charity found that box yet? Had she held her breath, hoping to find diamonds and rubies, since that precious red gem is my official birthstone? If she'd opened it, all she'd found were little gold Mom necklaces bought at the last minute and a promise ring Drew had given me six months before we were officially engaged. I'd inherited his mother's engagement ring, which he'd replaced with a wide gold wedding band when we were married. Before we'd been married a year, the engagement ring went to the safe deposit box at the bank. It was one of those things "in his possession."
I was in Miss Scarlett's bedroom. My heart was floating six feet above my body, and I couldn't care less about roses, necklaces, or anything else. Nothing could erase or diminish the joy of that moment. A knock on the door jerked me back to the present. I opened it just a crack to see Billy Lee in a pair of khaki slacks, a blue short-sleeved shirt that made his eyes sparkle, and dress shoes. His sandy hair was combed straight back, and he smelled heavenly after a fresh shave.
"Can you meet me down in the parlor in half an hour? I thought we'd go to supper," he said.
I'm sure my face was a lesson in pure shock. Unable to speak for the second time in an hour, I nodded. I took the quickest shower I'd ever had, promising myself that later I was going to take one that lasted until the hot water went stone cold. I chose the swishy floral skirt and cotton sweater that brought out the green in my eyes, ran a brush through my hair, and slapped on a smidgen of makeup. I didn't rush down the staircase but took my time and wished I had a green velvet dress with a petticoat, maybe a parasol, and definitely a deep southern accent. I didn't look or sound a bit like Scarlett O'Hara, but I liked to think that my new fiery spirit was the same as hers.
The parlor did not disappoint. Whoever designed it must have loved and studied Tara. Billy Lee was sitting in one of the red velvet wing chairs flanking the fireplace, and he stood when he noticed me. He was even more handsome than Rhett Butler that evening, and he had eyes only for me.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Where are we going?"
He looped my arm though his. "To supper. I hope you like Italian. That's where I've made reservations."
"Love it. This is so . . " And then I saw the horse-drawn carriage waiting at the curb.
"Thought you might like to go back in time." He smiled.
"Oh, my!" I gasped.
The driver held the door for us, and Billy Lee helped me into the carriage. I wasn't Trudy Matthews; I was truly a southern belle. As we rode down brick streets, past the Christ Episcopal Church, the museum, and hotels, I imagined it as it was in pre-Civil War days. I envisioned a time that offered a quieter, more genteel way of life. The driver kept up a steady chatter about legends and lore about everything we passed. I didn't need a notebook to write down every word. The whole experience was branded deeply on my heart and mind.
When the carriage stopped at the Italian restaurant on the west side of town, Billy Lee was a true southern gentleman and offered his hand to help me out. He opened doors and pulled out my chair at our table. He ordered a bottle of vintage wine, and I was amazed at his ability to pronounce the name. I would have stumbled and stuttered, and the waiter probably would have brought us Kool-Aid instead of a smooth, wonderful, deep red wine. I had veal parmesan. He had lasagna, and we talked about how the movie and the book were different. I'd never known a man who had read Gone With the Wind, and I had never had so much fun in my entire life.
I glanced out the window at the carriage several times during dinner. We weren't far from the O'Hardy place, and a nice stroll on a summer's evening would be fun, but I wanted another ride in the carriage to relish a few more minutes of the slow life that Scarlett had experienced before the war.
"It's not going anywhere. I ordered it for the whole evening," he finally said.
I -smiled. "If this is my prize every time the floor man comes around, I may hire him to varnish something once a week."
"So I did good, did I? Am I now sensitive, pretty, and what else?"
"Just plain great," I said.
He grinned. "Hey, now, I like that word best of all."
"Finally, one we agree on," I teased.
He raised his wineglass. "To Trudy, who's beautiful in her new outfit and with her curly hair."
I clinked mine with his. "Thank you, Billy Lee."
"Shall we order a tiramisu to go so you can have a midnight snack if you get hungry?" he asked.
"Honey, usually I could eat two of those things, but it'll be sometime tomorrow before I'm hungry again."
"If you want one later, we'll have it delivered to the hotel."
The waiter laid the check on the table. Billy Lee put some bills inside the thin black folder and waved the waiter away when he said he'd return with change. ---- - - - - - - -- - --
When we were back in the carriage, he told the driver to give us the grand tour of town. I could give someone the grand tour of Tishomingo in exactly five minutes. In a carriage it might take fifteen, and that would allow time for the horses to stop and nibble on Daisy Black's rosebushes that stuck out over the sidewalk.
Jefferson was a different story. The driver took us east of town, over a bridge across the Big Cypress Bayou. He told us the history as he kept the horses moving along at a steady pace. He talked, and I listened with one ear, but mostly I just let the words flow through my brain. All the history didn't appeal to me as much as did the frogs, crickets, and other creatures of the night setting up a chorus that sounded exactly like "Happy Birthday to Trudy."
The bayou had a peculiar smell to it, not anything like Pennington Creek in Tishomingo. Not even that year when the water got so high that they had to close off the old wooden swinging bridge did Pennington smell like the Big Cypress Bayou.
"What are you thinking about?" Billy Lee asked.
"The old swinging bridge that used to be across Pennington Creek when I was a little girl," I answered honestly.
He chuckled. "I take you on the grand tour of Jefferson, and you think about the swinging bridge back home?"
"I'm sorry. It's so beautiful, and the evening is enchanted. I was listening to the crickets and the frogs and thought of the creek at home. I didn't mean ..."
He patted my hand, leaving his on top of mine instead of moving it away. "You don't have to apologize. I was thinking of getting a carriage so we could do this in Tishomingo, while we listen to the crickets and frogs. Shall we buy one?"
"Great minds must think alike." I smiled up at him. I'd never realized that he was that much taller than me.
"So you like my secret little town?"
"I love it. I can't wait until tomorrow to look in all the antiques stores we're passing."
"Has anyone ever told you how much fun you are? Honest, funny, hardworking. Gert was right. You're the best thing that came out of that whole family," he said.
My eyes popped open so wide, every crow's-foot must have stretched out tight. "Gert said that?"
"Yes, she did, and I believe it. Give you a problem, and you learn how to operate a bulldozer so you can plow it under."
"You sure you've got the right Trudy?" I asked.
"I'm more than sure. You've always been that way. It's what I admired from the time we were little kids. My first memory of you is when we were four. Your momma brought you to dinner at Gert's place. And Lonnie mesmerized us by eating peas with a knife"
"I do remember sitting on the back porch and watching him eat. Every
one else had left the table, and he was still eating. But I don't remember who all was on the porch with me"
"Marty, Betsy, and me," he said. "You said you could make peas stay on the knife without falling off. All you had to do was paste them on there. Marty and Betsy made fun of you and called you silly. I thought you were pretty smart."
"You did?" I was amazed that anyone had ever put the word smart into the same sentence with my name.
Billy Lee remembered a lot more about me than I did him. Suddenly it was important that I know more.
"So tell me about you," I said.
"Born in the house I live in now. Lived there my whole life. Went to school all thirteen years with you, then to Murray State and lived at home. Finished my degree at Southeastern in Durant and commuted. Got my Master's the same way. Didn't get the doctorate, though."
Six sentences told Billy Lee's whole life. "Is that all?"
"All I'm willin' to talk about tonight," he said seriously. "It's not my day. It's yours. Happy Birthday."
I was shocked. "How did you know it was my birthday?"
"Must have been something Gert mentioned once."
Billy Lee's face turned crimson enough to glow under the streetlights. I'd never seen a man do that before, and I couldn't stop looking at him.
"Did she also mention that I'm obsessed with Gone With the Wind? Billy Lee, did you do all this for me because you knew that?"
"Guilty as charged," he said.
"It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for my birthday. Thank you"
"You are very welcome," he whispered.
The next several moments were awkward. He was more sensitive and thoughtful than any man I'd ever known, and I was tongue-tied. I knew I should say something either profound or funny, but nothing passed from brain to mouth.
Luckily the carriage ride ended, and Billy Lee walked beside me to the door and into the house. He followed me up to the second floor and motioned toward a wicker settee. "Have a seat, and let's talk."
I sat down on one end and patted the spot beside me. "Okay, what are we going to talk about? Not remodeling tonight. Right now I don't even want to think about high gloss or satin varnish."
"We can talk about anything you want. I'd like to talk about you, since it's your birthday," he said.
I felt like he'd put a crown on my head.
"But first I want to ... well ... just wait here" He stumbled over the words. Then he jumped up and disappeared around the corner.
I leaned forward and caught a few glimpses of the dining room where we were to have breakfast the next morning. I felt Billy Lee's presence when he sat back down, and I turned to look at him. He was holding out a beautifully wrapped present. "For you on your fortieth birthday. May all the ones ahead be better than those that have already passed"
My first reaction was to let the tears welling up go ahead and flow down my cheeks. But he thought I learned to drive bulldozers just to plow my problems under. I wasn't about to let that image die and be replaced by a whimpering fortyyear-old sentimentalist.
The present was too pretty to unwrap. It was done up in slick red paper that matched the walls in Miss Scarlett's bedroom, and it was tied with a big satin bow. I held it on my lap and stared at it.
"You going to open it or just hold it?" Billy Lee asked.
"It's too pretty to destroy."
"But you'll never know what's inside if you don't open it. Take it off gently if you don't want to tear the paper."
"You won't laugh at me?"
He pulled out his pocket knife and said, "I promise. Use this to slit the tape so you won't ruin the paper."
I carefully untied the bow and laid the ribbon beside me. The knife was sharp and cut right through the tape. When I folded the paper back, I was holding an antique copy of Gone With the Wind.
"Do you like it?" he asked.
"I love it," I whispered, and tears flowed down my cheeks. I wiped at them with one hand and held the book with the other. Forget the bulldozer. I was holding a vintage copy of my favorite book. I could cry if I wanted to.
"Open it up," he said.
With reverence I looked inside to find I was holding a firstedition volume of the book, and right there before my eyes was Margaret Mitchell's signature. The book was in perfect condition with a flawless dust jacket. Published in 1936. All one thousand plus pages in my hands, and it was mine.
To talk aloud in the presence of such a treasure would be next door to sinning, so I whispered, "This is too precious for human hands to touch. I'm going to have one of those special tables built for it in the living room. You know, one of those with glass on all four sides and the top, so I can open the book up to this page and let people look and yet be selfish enough that no one can touch it but me."
"Well, happy birthday one more time. We've got a big day tomorrow. There's a Gone With the Wind museum here in the house. Then we'll tour the haunted hotel and do some shopping," he said.
"You can't leave me now. Sit here a while longer while I take this all in. It's not midnight, so my birthday isn't over," I said.
"If you want me to, I'll sit here until dawn," he said.
"Be careful what you agree to do. Billy Lee, I'm in awe that you did all this for me. There aren't enough words in the world to tell you what it means to me. When is your birthday, so I can give you a wonderful surprise?" I leaned across the settee and kissed him on the cheek.
"You already did. My birthday was the day of Gert's funeral, and I thought it would be the saddest day of my life. Turned out I got the best present ever. A new neighbor and friend."
"I'm the blessed one," I said.
When the clock in the parlor struck twelve times, I finally let him go to his room after kissing him on the check once more, wishing I had the courage to really kiss him. But friends and neighbors didn't do that. Besides, I was so newly divorced that I sure didn't need to be looking at Billy Lee as any more than that.
He touched his cheek where I'd kissed it. "I enjoyed the day as much as you did."
"Impossible," I said.
it was dusk when we piled into Billy Lee's old truck and headed east to the football field for the fireworks show. He circled the parking lot twice, ignoring several open spots.
I pointed. "Right there is one. If you don't park soon, we're going to miss the whole show."
"But you can't see the fireworks from there. I'm looking for a good vantage point so you don't miss anything, and I want to be able to hear the National Anthem."
"We don't need to see from here. We're going to be sitting in the stands. Fifty-yard line, halfway up, if there's room."
Billy Lee parked and looked at me a long time. "You sure about that, Trudy?"
"Polish up that bulldozer. It's time for us to do some plowin'," I said with a light heart.
A few seats were left front and center, so we climbed the bleachers and claimed them. Billy Lee wore a red-and-whitestriped short-sleeved T-shirt under his overalls and looked almighty patriotic to me. I'd dragged out one of Aunt Gert's T-shirts decorated with the American flag done up in sequinsat least most of them were still attached-to go with my faded jeans, which I'd had to roll twice at the waist.
We listened to the National Anthem and heard a poem written by a local man, then a prayer from a preacher. It was after the prayer that Marty and Betsy settled in behind me. Daisy Black and her daughter were to my right. I pretended none of them were there. Maybe if I didn't officially see them and smell the smoke on Marty's breath, they'd all disappear.
It didn't work.
Daisy nudged me with an elbow. "I heard you're doin' a right nice job on Gert's house"
"Yes, we are," I said.
"Heard Billy Lee was helping you. What's that boy know about remodeling, anyway? Never knew him to work a day in his life."
"Billy Lee is a man, not a boy, and he's quite knowledgeable about carpentry, Miz Daisy," I whispered right back.
Billy Lee whispered, "Problem?"
"Miz Daisy was admiring my bulldozer."
"Bulldozer? I didn't know you bought a bulldozer. What are you going to do with a piece of equipment that big?" Daisy said.
Billy Lee and I both giggled.
"So you finally came to your senses and decided to bulldoze that place?" Marty asked from behind me.
Momma always said that a true lady never lets someone know when he's riled her; otherwise, she's giving away her power and her crown. My crown might be a bit tarnished, but I was not about to give it to Marty or Betsy. It was Independence Day: I was free. I could say whatever I wanted and live however I wanted. And I had a signed first edition of Gone With the Wind.
"No, I'm not thinking of tearing down the house. I plan to live in it. Billy Lee and I are working on refinishing every piece of woodwork in there. It's been fun."
"So you've been Dumpster-diving for friends since Drew divorced you?" Betsy said.
She and Marty both laughed as if she'd just cracked the next biggest joke to make the Internet rounds. Billy Lee stiffened beside me, and it hit me like a bolt of lightning. He had known there would be talk if we went to the fireworks together. That was the reason he'd wanted us to watch the fireworks from the parking lot. Chalk one up for Billy Lee. Take one away from smart old Trudy.
I pasted a big smile onto my face, not unlike that of a secondgrader when the school photographer urges her to grin, and I said, "Oh, no, Betsy, the only things I find when I Dumpsterdive are loudmouthed relatives."
Billy Lee let out a lungful of air and said, "You do a fine job of heavy-equipment operating, Miz Trudy."
"Thank you"
"I thought maybe you'd have gotten over that hateful spell by now," Marty said.
"I'm not sure I'll ever get over it," I told her as the first fireworks lit up the sky.
The Ladies' Room Page 12
