The Peculiar Miracles of Antoinette Martin

by Stephanie Knipper

“There are too many people here,” her mother said, frowning. She walked carefully, shielding Antoinette from the crowd. A knot of old ladies stood outside of their booth. “Excuse me,” her mother said as she and Antoinette eased by them.

  Antoinette took two big steps to stay close to her. Normally, she loved crowds—so many people to touch, so many songs to hear. Today was different.

  Today it seemed like death sat on her mother’s shoulder. She struggled to catch her breath, and she walked even more slowly than normal. As Antoinette followed her, a marigold pushed from the soil, and unaware, her mother stepped on it, flattening its orange petals and filling the air with a sharp scent. Antoinette stopped, mesmerized by the crumpled flower. She tried to move, but her feet tangled, and she pitched forward.

  Right before she hit the ground, her mother caught her. “Are you okay?” she asked. She was breathing hard. The short walk from their van to the booth had worn her out.

  Yes. The word was small and simple. Three letters. Y-E-S. Antoinette opened her mouth. A high-pitched squeal came out.

  Her mother quickly squeezed Antoinette’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “You don’t want to be late for delivery day.”

  Faintly, she heard her mother’s song through their linked hands, but Antoinette needed all of her concentration to keep up. Healing would have to wait.

  One of the old women gathered around the booth turned to Antoinette’s mother. “Bless your heart,” she said. “Stuck with that retarded girl. As if you don’t have enough to deal with.”

  Retarded. The word was a slap across Antoinette’s face. It was supposed to mean “slow.” It really meant “worthless.” Worth. Less. Antoinette groaned and curled forward.

  “Come on, Antoinette.” Her mother tugged her hand.

  Antoinette couldn’t straighten. The sun bit through her thin cotton T-shirt.

  “Poor thing,” the old woman said.

  “Get out of my booth,” her mother said, the words clipped and sharp.

  With a sniff the woman shuffled off, and the pressure on Antoinette’s shoulders eased.

  “Crazy old woman,” her mother said. She knelt in front of Antoinette and tapped her first two fingers against her nose. “Look at me.”

  Antoinette fixed her gaze on a gauzy cloud over her mother’s left shoulder.

  Long ago, her mother had brought home a prism. “Look, Antoinette,” she had said before shining a flashlight through the glass triangle. “All these colors were hidden in the white light. The prism broke it open.”

  Antoinette’s brain was like that prism. In her mind, faces shattered. It was confusing and disorienting, like looking at a puzzle with the pieces scattered over a table.

  “Please, Antoinette. I need to know you’re listening.” Her mother tapped her nose again. The pain in her mother’s voice was worse than looking at her dissembled face. Antoinette flicked her gaze from the cloud to her mother, then back again.

  It was enough.

  “Don’t listen to that woman,” her mother said. “Everyone’s life is hard in some way. Yours just happens to be easier to see than most. Do you understand?”

  Slowly, Antoinette looked into her mother’s eyes, holding her gaze until her own eyes burned.

  “Thank you,” her mother said, and Antoinette could feel relief in her voice.

  Her mother straightened and looked around the booth. “Where’s Seth?” She guided Antoinette toward the back of the tent where they looked across the grassy square separating the market from the parking lot. Seth was at the van, unloading planters of early tulips and late daffodils. When he saw them, he jogged across the grass.

  “Ready to go, Antoinette?” he asked as he tousled her hair.

  She stretched up on her toes. Saturday was the day she helped Seth deliver flowers to stores and restaurants around town. She loved delivery day.

  “Is Lily here yet?” her mother asked.

  “I didn’t know she was coming.” He glanced over his shoulder, an odd look on his face. Antoinette recognized it at once: longing. She imagined she looked like that when she watched kids at the playground—she wanted to be like them.

  “She and Will are meeting me here. I want Lily to handle the deliveries today,” her mother said. “She and Antoinette need to get to know each other.”

  Antoinette stepped away from her mother. No, she thought. A low moan filled her throat. Seth did delivery day, not Lily. Everything was changing. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the ground, screaming as she fell.

  The concrete stung, but Antoinette didn’t care. She screamed until her throat was raw.

  “What’s wrong?” Lily’s voice cut through the noise of the crowd.

  “You’re late,” her mother said.

  No! No! No! Antoinette kicked the concrete. She did not want to go with Lily.

  “Sorry,” Lily said. “We lost track of time.”

  A crowd gathered around them. Someone said, “Would you look at that.”

  “What a shame,” someone else said. The words whooshed through Antoinette’s ears, and she screamed again.

  “It’s my fault,” Will said. “I asked Lily to walk through the woods with me.”

  “All right,” Seth said to the people who had gathered to watch. “Show’s over.”

  No one left.

  Then Antoinette heard Will. “At least back up,” he said.

  “It’s delivery day,” her mother said.

  Antoinette stopped screaming and focused on her mother’s voice.

  “Doesn’t Seth—” Lily started.

  “I thought you could do it today.” Her mother grabbed Antoinette’s wrists and tugged. “With Antoinette.”

  No, Antoinette wanted to say. I don’t want things to change.

  “You mean the two of us? Alone?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” her mother said.

  “I’ll get her,” Seth said. Antoinette let herself go limp, but that didn’t stop him from picking her up.

  “Will, come with me,” Lily said.

  “You don’t need me, Lils,” Will said.

  Antoinette banged her head against Seth’s arm. Not Lily. Not Lily. Not Lily.

  “She doesn’t like me,” Lily said.

  Antoinette stiffened until her spine curved like a backward C. It didn’t make a difference; Seth tightened his grip until she couldn’t twist free.

  “This is why I called you home, Lily,” her mother said. “Did you think it would be easy?”

  “Well, I didn’t think it would be like this,” Lily said quietly.

  Will pulled her aside, but they were close enough for Antoinette to hear what he said. “When I was in the hospital, you told me stories about growing up here. Just from your voice I could tell how much you missed this place, how much you missed Rose, Antoinette. Don’t let fear drive you away. You’ll be fine, Lils.”

  They would not be fine. Antoinette kicked her feet, but Seth buckled her into the van’s passenger’s seat anyway.

  Will held the driver’s door for Lily. “You can do this.”

  “I can do this,” Lily repeated, but she didn’t sound sure of herself.

  “We’ll meet you at Cora’s when you’re finished,” her mother said.

  Antoinette shook her head. No, no, no!

  Lily slid in behind the wheel. Antoinette sat at the very edge of her seat, as far from Lily as possible. Lily did likewise, leaning against the driver’s-side door as she started the van.

  As they pulled away, Antoinette forced herself to look directly into her mother’s eyes. She didn’t break eye contact until they turned out of the market and her mother disappeared.

  ANTOINETTE STUCK HER hand out of the van window, letting the wind whistle through the spaces between her fingers.

  “I can run into Art’s Floral if you want to wait in the van,” Lily said as she drove around back to the service entrance. Her voice was so soft Antoinette barely heard her.

  Lily’s hair swung down her back in a
loose ponytail. Antoinette imagined grabbing a handful of it and yanking as hard as she could.

  When they stopped, Antoinette bounced on the seat, making the springs squeak. She knocked her hand against the door. Out. She looped the word through her brain, attempting to push it past her lips, but the only sound that came out was a low groan.

  Lily hopped out and opened the van’s back door. Antoinette smacked her hands against the door. She always went into Art’s. Out. Out. Out. She stamped her feet against the floor and flapped her hands.

  “Okay, okay,” Lily said. She opened the door and stood back. “Do you need help?”

  Antoinette pressed her elbows against her sides and wiggled her fingers. Out. Out. OUT! She focused all of her energy into pushing the word past her lips. “Ouuu!”

  Lily wiped her hands on her jeans. “Rose and Will are both crazy,” she mumbled as she reached for Antoinette and unbuckled the seat belt. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  Antoinette fell forward. Lily caught her and eased her to the ground. “You okay?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she headed toward the back of the van. “Five,” she said. “Can’t stop on five.” She returned to Antoinette’s side.

  When she noticed Antoinette staring, Lily blushed. “I don’t like odd numbers.” She pressed herself against the passenger’s door and started walking again. Her steps were smaller this time, and she counted out loud, ending on nine.

  After three tries, she made it to the back of the van in six paces. “Thank God,” she said. She grabbed two buckets of cosmos and set them down. Then she reached for a couple of pails of hoop-house zinnias.

  “You want to carry some?” Lily asked.

  Antoinette hopped up and down.

  Lily held out a small metal pail, and Antoinette curled her fingers around its handle. She worked hard to smooth her gait so water didn’t slosh from the pail as she walked. This time, she wasn’t the only one with a problem. Lily had to retrace her path twice before she landed on an even number, and they finally walked through the service entrance.

  Antoinette loved the back room of Art’s Floral. A row of glass-front refrigerators filled with roses, irises, and lilies lined one wall. Spools of ribbon in every color imaginable hung above a worktable. Shelves of glass vases bounced light around the room. Most of the flowers were cut and dying, so there wasn’t much music in the room, but as long as Antoinette kept her hands tight against her body the emptiness didn’t overwhelm her.

  The shop’s owner was a thin woman named Ileen. She had dishwater-brown hair and never looked at Antoinette. Ileen was in the back room waiting for them. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and frowned when she saw Lily. “I’m surprised to see you, Lily. Where’s Seth? He normally handles deliveries.”

  “He’s taking a break. It’s just us today,” Lily said as she handed her an invoice.

  Ileen accepted the paper, making sure not to touch Lily. “I’ll get the check. Don’t let her touch anything.” She nodded toward Antoinette as she left.

  “Don’t worry,” Lily whispered to Antoinette when they were alone. “She was a bitch in high school too, but don’t tell your mother I said that. They used to be friends. Not anymore, I guess.”

  Lily fiddled with the flowers in one of the buckets. Her lips moved as she ran her fingers over the petals of a zinnia, and Antoinette heard her counting.

  “Twenty-six petals,” she said with a glance at Antoinette. “That’s a good number. Even. I don’t have to do anything to fix it. Sometimes if it’s an odd number, I have to pinch off a petal to make it even.”

  Antoinette understood the need to bring order to things. Without thinking, she moved closer to Lily.

  “It’s like an itch that gets bigger unless I scratch it.” Lily ran her fingers over the orange flower petals. “But this one’s good.”

  A potted pothos plant sat on a shelf across the room, its leaves curly and brown around the edges. Antoinette bounced over to the plant. It was potted so there was no point in sticking her fingers into the soil. She couldn’t pull water to the roots from anywhere else.

  She flapped her hands to get Lily’s attention, but her aunt was busy pinching the petals off of a fuchsia cosmos.

  Antoinette stretched up on her toes and walked over to the sink. She smacked her palm against the stainless-steel basin. It made a ringing sound, but Lily didn’t look up.

  A green plastic watering can sat on the floor next to the sink. Antoinette tried to nudge it with her foot, but her muscles contracted, and she kicked the can, sending it across the room.

  Lily jumped. “What in the world?”

  Antoinette bounced and flapped her hands, bringing them down against the sink. Then she pointed at the dying plant.

  Lily followed her direction. “Oh,” she said, grasping Antoinette’s intent. “You’d think a florist would know better.” She picked up the watering can, filled it at the sink, and then watered the plant. “I never could stand to see them dying.”

  Antoinette wanted to say she couldn’t either, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she stood next to her aunt and flapped her hands, hoping it looked like Thank you.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cora’s Italian Restaurant was their last delivery stop. Lily parked the van and walked to the passenger’s side, but this time when she leaned in, Antoinette didn’t recoil. Instead, she climbed out and laid her cheek against Lily’s hand. Her long blonde hair fell forward, covering her face.

  Something inside Lily softened, and the need to count faded. “I missed you,” she whispered. When Antoinette didn’t move, she continued, “I have pictures of you when you were a baby. I stared at them every night before I went to sleep, wondering what you looked like now.”

  Antoinette cocked her head to the left. Slowly, she curved her arm around Lily’s waist and tapped her back.

  “The real you is better than anything I imagined.” Lily brushed her hand through Antoinette’s hair. It was as thin and fine as it had been when she was a baby. A seedling of hope sprouted in Lily’s heart. Maybe she could be Antoinette’s guardian after all. Maybe this time, she wouldn’t disappoint Rose.

  The restaurant door opened, and Seth walked out. “I thought you might need some help,” he said. He turned to Antoinette. “Bet you were a big help today.”

  She stretched up on her toes, flapped her hands, and shrieked. Lily now knew that was her happy noise.

  “Did she carry flowers into Art’s?” he asked. “I forgot to tell you that’s our routine.” Lily couldn’t help but notice that he was awkward with her, more like a stranger than someone with whom he shared a past.

  “Antoinette told me,” Lily said. “It’s amazing how much she can communicate without words.”

  Seth walked to the back of the van. “If I’ve learned anything about Antoinette, it’s not to underestimate her.”

  Antoinette walked in circles on her toes. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, kiddo,” Seth said. “Brush up on your Brahms. I’ll stump you yet.”

  For a moment, he was the boy Lily remembered. She forgot herself and touched his arm. “Thank you for being here when I wasn’t.”

  He flinched and pulled away. “I’ll unload the flowers,” he said as he grabbed two buckets of hydrangea puffs. “Rose is inside waiting for you.”

  At the mention of her mother’s name, Antoinette started across the parking lot to the restaurant entrance. She moved slowly. Several times her knees folded, and she almost fell, but each time she caught herself before hitting the ground.

  “I didn’t mean anything beyond ‘thank you,’ ” Lily said, confused by his reaction. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you’d like.” She hurried to catch up with Antoinette.

  They were at the restaurant entrance when Seth called out, “You look comfortable with each other. Like you belong together.”

  Lily paused at the door. Her fear had vanished in the hours she and Antoinette had spent together that afternoon. “You�
��re right,” she said. “We do.” She put her hand on her niece’s shoulder and helped her inside.

  Cora’s Italian Restaurant had changed. The black-and-white floor tile was the same, and the scents of garlic and oregano still hung in the air, but everything else was different.

  Years ago, Cora’s had looked like a thousand other small town restaurants: cheap, plastic, nothing breakable, and everything easy to hose down.

  Now the walls were painted eggplant purple. The metal tables had been replaced with tall red booths sporting cushions covered in a hodgepodge of patterns: zebra stripes, cheetah prints, and splashy old florals. The drop ceiling had been removed, exposing stainless-steel air ducts. Thousands of white Christmas lights were laced through boxwood topiaries that dotted the restaurant.

  Rose and Will were waiting for them. “You’re both in one piece,” Rose said. She seemed tired and had her portable oxygen tank with her, but she looked pleased with herself.

  “Antoinette was a big help,” Lily said. “We’re getting to know each other.”

  Antoinette gave Rose the same half hug she had given Lily in the parking lot. Then she stuck her hands into a boxwood that had been shaped into a cat.

  “What’d I tell you, Lils?” Will said. “Just like everyone else, right?”

  “Don’t get cocky. Just because you were right once—”

  Will pressed a hand to his chest. “Once? You wound me.”

  “What do you think of the place?” Cora asked, appearing from behind the bar next to the hostess station. She had bundled her long dark hair into a knot. It was more gray than black now, but her face was smooth, as if time were afraid to touch her. “Rose redid the place a few years ago. Said she needed the extra money. I have no idea how she managed for so long without any family around.”

  Cora was a busybody, and while she never meant for her words to sting, they did.

  “She’s here now,” Will said, nodding at Lily. He didn’t touch her, but his presence steadied her.

  “I managed just fine,” Rose said as she tried to keep Antoinette’s hands out of the boxwood.

  Cora turned to Antoinette. “I’ve got something special for you. You want to come to the kitchen with me?”