Laura Jean covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
I scrambled around and grabbed her. Cody seemed in that moment to be okay, having landed himself on the carpet, but Laura Jean was completely undone. She kept saying, “I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry,” to both Cody and me.
For my part, I said, “Honey, it will wash. It’s nothin’.” Then—“You know, you have to admire his art.”
Her eyes went wide. Her lip trembled and a laugh popped out of her. Then she was both laughing and crying. It was a bit on the hysterical side and could have gone either way, causing me to brace myself.
The young woman got hold of herself, though. Her gaze shifted to Cody, and emotions passed over her face, pain, regret, resignation, as fast as clouds blowing across the sky. She reached for him, somewhat hesitantly. He allowed her to pull him to her and pick him up. She kissed and hugged him.
I led the way to the bathroom, where I intended to get the water started in the tub and set out towels. There was almost another crisis of sorts, when Laura Jean brought Cody in behind me, and he started screaming again.
“The fan…” Laura Jean said, and reached out to turn off the light switch that controlled the fan, too. With a wide window and two skylights, the electric light was not needed.
I had bubble bath. Laura Jean nodded okay, but I worried for a minute as the bubbles grew and Cody stared at them. It turned out that he was mesmerized by them. I scooped a handful of bubbles and blew gently on them, fascinated with watching the child’s fascination. Together we watched several large, round bubbles rise in the air, the light from the skylight hitting them and making them glimmer with color. His little cherub face regarded them with wonder. I gently stretched out a finger to catch one as it came down. I felt like a queen in command of bubbles. Laura Jean joined in, scooped up more bubbles, and Cody’s attention turned to her. The two began to play.
Satisfied the crisis was over, I left mother and son enjoying the bubbles and bathing, returning to the bedroom to clean up. I found Roline had gotten the roll-away in place all by herself. She was pleased and cute as could be, sitting on the narrow bed.
I made a big to-do over the feat. “You’re a right smart girl,” I told her, enjoying her giggling response and the way she said, “Yes, I am a right smart girl.”
“Miss Ellie?” she said
“Yes, sweetie-pie.”
“Do you have any kids?”
“No…no, I don’t.”
“Did you ever have any kids?”
“No, sweetie, I never did.” I glanced over to see her tilting her head, regarding me with curiosity.
“You seem like you know about kids,” she said, most seriously.
“Maybe I never grew up,” I said, and tossed her a sack of clothing from the bed that seemed to have her clothes in it. She fell over with it, laughing. Her laughter seemed frenzied, as if she thought she was expected to laugh. Surely the little family was under a great strain.
I put her to work folding clothes into the dresser drawers, while I cleared the bed and carefully remove the soiled spread. Two books slid out of one of the sacks. My eye caught the titles: first one, Autism Spectrum Disorders, and then the other, Behavioral Intervention.
Well. My fingers seemed drawn like a magnet, and I touched the top book, tracing beneath the title. Much was explained.
“IT’S TIME FOR ME TO OPEN the produce stand for the evenin’ traffic. Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator…just make yourself at home. I’ll be back up about six-thirty.”
I tossed all that over my shoulder as I went out the door, pretty much fleeing the house and their presence. My last glimpse of Laura Jean’s face told me she picked up on this.
As I grabbed a basket off the porch, Henry’s voice in my head said, “You’ve gone and done it now.”
Oh, shut up!
I strode around to the fig trees on the far side of the house. There were a few freshly ripe fruits. As I picked them, I could still hear Henry’s voice in my head: “Don’t get carried away, Ellie.”
He had so often said that to me. Henry had always seemed to be possessed of the opinion that I was going to do something that was too much—mostly spend too much money, but also maybe choose a wall color that was too bright, dress in something too daring, decorate too elaborately, make a trip too long.
I can’t for the life of me figure out the why of his attitude, because I never did any of those things. I have always been conservative. I am not certain that this has been my true nature, though, and perhaps Henry had sensed this. My shy and retiring nature hid a very active inner life, where I have dreamed great dreams. I never could seem to dare to bring them out, though. As unfair as it sounds, I partly blamed Henry for stomping on them before they could be too much.
All that is to say that it was exceedingly doubtful that I would have helped Laura Jean in much of any way had Henry been there. I would not have risked his disapproval; I had been a feather in the wind of Henry’s disapproval.
Let me just say that six hundred dollars for a stranger’s car repair and bringing a stranger, with two children, one of whom appeared to not talk and be afraid of certain noises, into our home to stay for a few days would definitely have incurred Henry’s disapproval. It would have fallen into the category of too much. He would have, well, died at the thought.
Feeling instantly disloyal, I stopped picking figs and looked over at the outbuildings and on to the house and then down to the produce stand. Henry had built it all, much of it with his own two hands. There it stood, so comfortable, well kept, affluent. All because of Henry being so very careful and hardworking. A responsible man. I had to admit that fact, and it was good for me to do so.
Yet, the largest realization was that I had been by his side the entire time. I had built it, too, and was now, as the term goes, a woman of substance. Furthermore, while everyone took my withdrawal as lengthy grieving, what it was in actuality was my acclimating to life on my own. It came to me at that moment that I had left the grieving and begun accepting responsibility of carrying on by myself. And the truth of the matter was that sometime in the two years since Henry’s demise, I had grown to like my single state. I liked it so much that it was a little embarrassing.
“Oh, Henry,” I said as I turned, unseeing, to put my hand on the fig tree, a fig tree Henry had planted just for me. “I did love you, sweetheart. I did. And I am grateful beyond measure for all you have given me…but I would not bring you back for the world. You couldn’t stand me now.”
My vision swam with tears as I walked down the hill to the produce stand.
EVENINGS WERE ORDINARILY much more busy than mornings at the produce stand. People were not in such a hurry to get to work on time. This evening I sold all of the cantaloupes and all but one of the watermelons, and most of the green peppers. Between customers I diligently culled the produce of the overripe pieces and put them into, what else, used Wal-Mart sacks, to take up to the mulch pile. While going about this task, I also put a couple of Twinkies and chocolate bars from the snack case into a bag to carry to the children. The extent to which this pleased me made me chuckle out loud and throw in a Twinkie cake for myself.
I was starting to close the doors five minutes early when Patsy’s Chrysler 300 pulled up. She stopped with her hood only half a foot from the stand, as was her habit. Patsy never walked an inch more than required. She’s my best friend since kindergarten, and is Henry’s cousin, so our lives are well intertwined.
“Hey, girl.” Patsy came over to give me a hug.
“Hi, hon…how goes it at school?” I guessed that she had heard about Laura Jean and come to see what was going on. The reason I thought this was because it was unusual for Patsy to come by at this time of evening. She had started back to work after a month of summer vacation—Patsy was the L. L. Madison Elementary School vice principal—and liked to go home at the end of the day, get a diet Coke, throw herself into her recliner and watch a movie on the Lifetime channel, somethi
ng nerve-tingling, with a lot of sex and without a lot of children. She wanted something far removed from her real life.
She said now, “We don’t have students yet, and I’m exhausted. I should never have said I would take vice principal again. I’m retirin’ for sure in May. I am. Stu and I are goin’ to do that Go RVing thing just like Tom Selleck says in that commercial.”
“Are you sure that’s Tom Selleck?”
“Well, if it isn’t, it is someone with his voice…and I just remembered—we really need you to come back to substitute this year. Mrs. Reed moved to Florida, thank goodness, because I was goin’ to have to tell her that she could no longer sub. She has just gotten too old, and she started pinchin’.”
“Really?”
“I thought I told you. She pinched two third-graders and a fifth-grader last year. And today June Deleo called up to announce that she is goin’ to have twins and won’t be available. We really need you, Ellie.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve got the stand goin’ pretty good.”
“You loved it when you used to substitute. Remember? You said it was perfect because you got use out of that degree you worked so hard for but didn’t have to follow all the establishment rules. It will get you out of the house, out with people, Ellie,” she added pointedly.
I gazed at her. “I am out with people here every day.”
“You are not goin’ to keep the produce stand open all winter, are you?” Patsy’s left eyebrow went up in the manner that all Henry’s side of the family could employ.
“Well, no…but probably through Halloween. I have a good crop of pumpkins, and the Millers want me to sell theirs, too.”
“Look, why don’t I just have you put on the call list. You can always say no, but maybe sometime—like later in the winter, when everything is shut up—you will want to.”
“Okay, I guess,” I said, caught between feeling hesitant and yet a little glad. I had enjoyed it when I substituted. I also had the idle thought to wonder what I would wear should I take on the classroom again. I started to inquire about being allowed to wear overalls, but then Patsy got to what she had come for in the first place and asked about Laura Jean.
“What’s this I hear about you takin’ in a homeless woman and her kids?”
“She isn’t homeless. She’s on her way to her sister’s over in Tennessee, and her car broke down. How did you hear about it?”
“That sounds a little homeless to me,” she said. “I just got gas down at Jordan’s, and Jimmy said that a strange woman’s car broke down here, and that you took in her and her two kids. He said you are payin’ to have her car repaired. Six hundred dollars.” There went that eyebrow again, reminding me of Henry.
“Monte is payin’ for more than half,” I said flatly, and foolishly relieved to do so, too. Had it not been true, I might have made it up. Then I reminded myself that I was not married to Patsy. “Do you want these? Cook ’em tonight, and they’ll be good.” I held out a bag of overripe tomatoes.
“Oh, thanks. Stu will cook them.” She looked in the bag, saying, “Well, it is a lot of money. You all should have called the church. We have a fund for things like that. It’s part of the mission ministry, you know. It might be a good idea to call Pastor Gene. The church can at least chip in to help.”
“Maybe I’ll do that…but really, it’s all taken care of now.” I was not going to call the church. I should have just said so straight out.
“Well, there’s not only the emergency fund, but there’s the prophet’s chamber at the church. It’s got a microwave and refrigerator. It’s mostly for traveling evangelists, but they’ve used it for this sort of thing, too. Charlotte Jones’s niece used it when she had to get away from her husband because he was beatin’ the tar out of her.”
“They are all settled in here now.” I handed her a bag of cucumbers. I guess I was somehow trying to shut her up with vegetables. It did not work.
“I just don’t think it is a good idea for you to get in the habit of takin’ in someone right off the highway, Ellie.” Just like Henry. Boy, blood is thick.
“One time is not a habit.”
“Well, I’ve worried a lot with you here right on the highway. Anyone could watch and catch you alone and rob you. And I’m just sayin’ that I know you are kindhearted, but you don’t know what sort of person she is. Anything could happen. She could get in your jewelry, or your purse and get all your personal information.”
I was a little surprised at not having thought of any of that, and that Patsy did. I thought of all those movies she watched on Lifetime.
Getting the produce stand doors closed, I turned to bid her goodbye.
“I’ll just drive you up,” she said, heading for the driver’s side of her car. “That way I can meet this girl.”
I stopped where I was and said, “I don’t think that is a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Honey, I know you mean to be friendly, but Laura Jean and the kids are worn out. They’ve been up since the early hours and have just had so much stress. They do not need to have to deal with another stranger and be poked into.”
“I am not going to poke into them.” She put a hand on her hip. “I just thought it would be nice to say hello. That is a friendly thing.”
“Not tonight,” I said firmly, then gave her a hug and a goodbye, as if she was not stiff as a board and looking at me as if she did not know what had gotten into me. I had never refused her access to my house, even if I might have wanted to a time or two.
She said, “Okay…if you feel that way. I could have just driven you up,” she called after me.
I waved and headed on in firm strides. I was aware of her car sitting there some moments, her eyes boring a hole in my back.
LAURA JEAN WAS AT THE STOVE. “I hope you don’t mind. You said to make myself at home….”
Bless her tender heart, she began to look uncertain and to duck her head, as if expecting scolding. I said quickly, “My word, this is so nice.” I heaped praise on her, saying that I had not had anyone make me a meal in a very long time. I did not think I could give her too much praise. I imagined she had been starved for it her whole life.
And that girl was enterprising. She had opened jars of my homemade spaghetti sauce and had water ready and waiting for the noodles. She had set the round oak table in the kitchen, complete with tablecloth, as I had done at lunch. There were even small bowls of salad for both of us.
I went back to my bedroom to freshen up and catch my breath. When I returned to the kitchen, Laura Jean would not let me help, but told me to sit. I did, and watched her put the food on the table. It was fascinating. She went from the stove to the table and back again, and each time, without any glance down, she would step over Cody, who lay on the floor, his thumb in his mouth, gazing upward, unblinking, at the ceiling fan. She had obviously had a lot of practice stepping over him.
Roline was called from in front of the television, and Cody was picked up and sat again on the phone-book booster. Laura Jean had the children join hands for grace. I put my hand in hers and in Roline’s on the other side. I peeked up to see a beam of western evening sunlight slanting through the window and across the room, illuminating dust motes in the air. I saw Cody looking at the dust particles, too.
So many people never see things like that…but the boy and I did.
Roline said, “Miss Ellie, do you have a computer?”
“Well, yes, honey, but it’s broken, I’m afraid.”
“Why are you afraid?”
Why indeed? “It is a figure of speech, and a poor one at that. My computer broke, and I am sorry to disappoint you.”
“Oh, that’s okay. Our computer broke, too…but Mama took us to the library to use theirs. Do you have a library?”
I thought for a moment. “I don’t have one, but there is one in town.”
“That’s what I meant. Could we go there when we finish eatin’?”
“I’m a…the library is not open
in the evenin’. I’m sorry.”
“Could we go tomorrow? We could use the computer, and maybe check out a movie.”
“Roline, quit pesterin’ Miss Ellie,” said Laura Jean.
“What is pesterin’?”
“Askin’ too many questions.”
“What are too many?” The girl looked at me.
“Five,” I said, and grinned at her. She rewarded me with a giggle.
Then she reached for her glass of milk and tipped the glass. The milk spread across the table.
I threw my napkin on it, and Laura Jean reached for a dish cloth, telling Roline, who sat with her chin nearly on her chest, that it was okay. Some of the milk had gone near Cody’s plate. Rather than eating, he had been twirling his spaghetti in a circle with his finger. He took the same finger and twirled it around in the puddle of milk, and when his mother wiped it away, he threw a fit.
“There is a reason that children are given to the young,” I said as I took the wet napkins to the counter.
FOR THAT NIGHT, I TOOK a flashlight and several candles into the guest bathroom, so that the light-fan switch would not be needed while Laura Jean readied the children for bed. Roline begged to take her bath by candlelight, and seeing her enjoyment prompted me to do the same in my own bathroom.
Now that my attention had been called to it, the noise of the exhaust fan annoyed me beyond measure. I actually considered calling Monte on the telephone and requesting step-by-step instructions on how to disconnect the darn thing. Good sense prevailed. I lit candles.
I leaned in close to the mirror after my bath. Mirrors were kind in candlelight. I turned my head, gave myself a good study. What did Monte see?
Leaving this disturbing question unanswered, I slipped into a pair of cotton-and-lace pajamas, soft knit robe and cushiony slippers. I do not always wear overalls, I mentally told Monte, imagining his surprise and appreciation as I turned down the bedcovers, then placed there the current book I was reading—the third in the Ladies’ Detective Agency books. It was not much of a mystery but a delightful story. It was my habit each evening to enjoy a cup of tea in my best blue Wedgwood china and read for several hours in bed. I very much looked forward to the ritual this evening and, in fact, as I headed for the kitchen, was very glad for the split plan of our house, the master suite on one side, and the other two bedrooms clear on the opposite end. I was actually just about tiptoeing, reluctant to have any further contact with my guests that evening.
More Than Words Volume 4 Page 20
