“Yes, sir,” I said, my voice squeaking.
“Your driver’s license and registration, please?”
I blinked. Then I glanced at the glove compartment, wondering if Eunice had, by some miracle, added the registration. I leaned across the seat, pressing my arm against the baby’s chubby legs, and clicked open the glove box. It was immaculate: a box of pink tissues, an oil change record, a folded map of Tennessee. In the backseat, Alice Ann giggled. I slammed the glove box, and sat straight up. I reached for my purse, but I couldn’t find my wallet. And it had been there when I’d stopped for gas near Oxford. I knew it was illegal to be driving without a license and registration.
Alice Ann leaned forward, laying her freckled cheek against the back of my seat. She twirled one braid. “Mommy, you left your billfold in your other purse. It’s got your driver’s license and registration, and even the title. But Daddy can bring it to Hazlehurst when he comes.”
She looked up at the officer and smiled, showing the gap between her teeth. “Please don’t give us a ticket, sir. My Aunt Eunice just had herself a new baby boy and we’re going down to help. That’s why we’re in a hurry. Isn’t that true, Mommy?”
She lifted her braid and painted the side of my face. I tried to smile, but my lips were trembling. To hide the twitching, I covered my mouth with my hand and nodded. Jennifer cackled. She grabbed her foot and shoved it into her mouth. Then she gave the officer an engaging smile. “Please, sir,” crooned Alice Ann, aiming the tip of her braid at him. “Give us one more chance. It’s my fault she was speeding. I was being a brat. Boohooing and kicking the back of her seat. ’Cause I was starving. I’m always starving. ‘Drive faster, Mommy,’ I told her. I won’t never do that again, Officer Nugent. I’ve learned my lesson.”
I glanced at the patrolman’s shirt—that was his name, all right, spelled out on his platinum badge.
“Where do y’all live?” he asked.
“Memphis,” said Alice Ann. “Memphis, Tennessee. While we’re in Hazlehurst, Daddy’s getting a neighbor boy to feed the dog.”
“What kind of dog you got, sugar?”
“Oh, he’s the cutest thing! He’s half pug, half Chihuahua. And real, real funny-looking. His name is Sneaky. Like some people can be?” Alice Ann leaned out the window. She grinned up at the officer, lifting her braid and letting it speak like a puppet. “Please, Officer Nugent. Pretty please? Let the nice people go. They’ll be good. They’ll drive under the speed limit.”
The officer laughed and stepped back from the Cadillac. Then he pointed one finger at me. “I’ll let you go, just this once. Now you drive careful. You hear me little lady?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded vigorously.
“Thank you,” Alice Ann sang.
“All right, then.” The officer gave Alice Ann a two-finger salute, then he walked back to his cruiser and climbed inside. After a moment the blue lights stopped flashing. I took a deep breath, then grabbed the wheel and shifted into drive. When the traffic thinned out, I touched my foot to the gas pedal, and the Cadillac shot out of the breakdown lane, onto I-55. Glancing into the rearview mirror, I saw that the trooper hadn’t moved. Alice Ann leaned against the window, her arms propped under her head, and she resumed singing “This Old Man.” Her voice rose up into the car, a child’s voice, light and sweet. I drove cautiously, passing right by the exit for McDonald’s. The singing abruptly stopped.
“Ain’t we stopping to eat?” Alice Ann cried, turning to stare out the rear window.
“I’ll stop later.” I looked down at the speedometer. It hovered just below 55.
“At Hazlehurst, Mommy?” She began laughing, then she fell over sideways, slapping the seat. “Was I good, or was I good?”
“Terrific,” I said. “Better than Shirley Temple.”
“I saved you back there, so you better keep me.”
“I’d rather keep a rattlesnake.”
“I memorized Officer Nugent’s badge number.” She leaned forward again, hanging on to the back of the seat. “You get rid of me now, I’ll tell him all about you.”
“You don’t know doodly about me.”
“Oh yes, I do. Lillian Beatrice.” She held up my blue vinyl wallet. I reached back for it, but Alice Ann scooted away. She perched on the seat, drawing her legs up to her pointed chin and popped open the wallet. “Relax, Lillian. Is it Wentworth or McDougal? You’ve got ID for both names. Isn’t that illegal? Are you some kind of con man?”
“Do I look like a man?”
“Do I look like a child? Eunice always says that appearances can be deceiving. So, tell me. Why did y’all leave Crystal Falls?”
“Hand over my wallet this instant.” I snapped my fingers.
“Won’t do you any good. I already memorized your address. 214 Dixie Avenue. And the zip code is 38501. I’ll bet somebody would pay me cash money to know your whereabouts.”
“Nobody’s interested in me,” I said, hoping I wasn’t showing my fear. This kid was smart, but deadly. “But I’m sure Eunice is frantic over you.”
“No, she’s not.” Alice Ann began tossing the wallet in the air. “You’re hiding something.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m a dangerous criminal.”
“Sure, and I’m Art Linkletter.”
“I might just stop the car and let you out.”
“It’s been done before, honey child,” she drawled, “but I always come back.”
“When we get to Hazlehurst, I’m calling Eunice. Aren’t you worried about her at all?”
“Nope. Reach me that map so I can plot out our trip to Point Minette.”
“Point Minette?” I blinked. “Where’s that?”
“Your next stop.” Alice Ann opened her shirt and dropped in my wallet, where it made a square bulge. “But it’s getting dark. You better check us into a motel.”
“What’s in Point Minette?” I asked.
“Like I’d ever tell you.”
“Well, you’d better. Because I’m going in the other direction.”
“You were. But you’re not now. See, my mama is in Point Minette and she’s waiting for me.”
“But…” I rubbed my forehead, trying to think of a delicate way to phrase this. “Your grandmother told a different story. She said—”
“Yes, yes, yes. I know what she told you, that my mama drowned in the river.” She held up both hands, as if pushing them against an imaginary obstacle. “But they never found her body. I bet Eunice didn’t tell you that.”
“Er, no, but—”
“They always find a body, those river draggers. But they didn’t find my mama’s. And she wouldn’t have crossed that bridge in the first place, because she was going in the other direction.” The child lowered her voice, making it raspy. “‘Honey, I’m heading down to Point Minette, Mississippi. I’m getting me a job as a stripper.’ That’s just what she said. It’ll be real easy to find her.”
“But…” I sighed, wishing I could leave her at a church, a note pinned to her dress, instructing the priest to call Eunice.
“If you’re good, I’ll be good,” Alice Ann said, using her pigtail to swipe the back of my seat. “Do you understand?”
“Completely,” I said. “But I still can’t take you to the coast.”
“You have to.” She began pounding my seat. “I belong with my mama. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s a lie. My mama is NOT dead !” Alice Ann reached up to her face and brushed away tears. “She’s not! She’s not! ”
“I never said she was. Eunice said it. Please don’t cry.”
“She’s more alive than you,” Alice Ann yelled. “And lots prettier. You better take me to her or you’ll be sorry.”
Around noon the next day, I parked the Cadillac in front of a pink brick building. Flying Cups & Saucers Café was painted on the windows in yellow paint, embellished with spinning Fiestaware. “I smell the ocean,” said Alice Ann from the backseat. She yawned, stretching out her arms. Then her knees squeaked across th
e leather seat. “Is this Point Minette?”
“Mmmhum.” I glanced out the window. Across the street were old buildings with wrought-iron balconies and hanging ferns. They had shops filled with inflatable rafts, folding chairs, and beach towels. At the end of the block, The Poseidon Adventure was playing at the theater. Most of the shoppers were women in cotton dresses and white sandals. Their children trailed behind, licking lollipops, their sun-streaked hair brushed into ponytails. I couldn’t imagine a stripper picking this town. Not that I believed for one moment that Alice Ann’s mother was alive. I looked back at the café.
“Well, let’s go find my mama,” said Alice Ann.
“I thought we’d get a bite to eat first,” I said.
“All right, but make it snappy.”
We got out of the car. I leaned over and lifted Jennifer into my arms. Alice Ann hopped onto the sidewalk, then she began taking exaggerated steps. I stopped in front of Flying Cups & Saucers and bought a newspaper, the Point Minette Tribune. Tucking it under my arm, I used my free hand to guide Alice Ann into the café. It was cool, smelling of fresh perked coffee, and ceiling fans stirred the green plants. A long counter was lined with glass domes—doughnuts, cookies, and pies. A grumpy-looking waitress sat on a stool there, drinking iced tea. She hopped down and seated us. Her dark hair was teased into a bouffant, and green eye shadow creased her lids. Pinned to her blouse was a name badge, Doris.
She helped me fit Jennifer into a high chair. “Get you ladies something cool to drink?” she asked in a weary voice. Then she reluctantly pulled out a green pad and a pencil.
“Just a Tab for me,” I said, unzipping the diaper bag and pulling out a bottle. “Could I trouble you to fill this with milk?”
“Sure thing, hon,” said Doris, taking the bottle. She winked at Jennifer, who was banging the high chair, then Doris turned her gaze on Alice Ann. “What for you, Red?”
“I’ll have a cheeseburger, crinkle fries, chocolate milk.”
“Everything on that cheeseburger?” Doris said without looking up from her pad.
“No lettuce, tomatoes, or onions,” Alice Ann said. “And you better not forget it, either.”
“Kids,” said Doris, shaking her head. “Like my mama used to say, they’re either a lump in your throat or a pain in your ass.”
“You said a bad word,” Alice Ann sang.
While we waited for the food, I opened the Tribune and began reading the classifieds.
“Are you looking for a job?” Alice Ann sat up on her knees, trying to read the paper upside-down.
“No. A cheap place to spend the night,” I said.
“Just one night?” Alice Ann looked alarmed. “It might take a while to find my mama. And you’re low on cash. I looked in your wallet.”
“That wasn’t nice.” I stifled a yawn, wondering how much the child had guessed.
Doris strutted over with our drinks and plunked them down. “Y’all just passing through?” she asked.
“Yes,” I told her, wondering if I could slip her a note, explaining Alice Ann’s situation. I could wait until the child went to the restroom, then Jennifer and I could dash off.
“We’re looking for a motel,” said Alice Ann.
“Now let me see.” Doris tapped her pencil against her pad. “There’s a new one over on River Street. Nice but pricey. If you’re saving pennies, then give Mrs. Finch a call. She’s got a boardinghouse on the beach.”
“Goodie,” said Alice Ann, holding up her pale, freckled arm. “I can work on my tan.”
Doris laughed and walked off.
“If you want me to be the mother,” I said, leaning across the table, “then you better start acting like the child.”
“I want to find my real mother.” Alice Ann stuck out her tongue.
Forty-five minutes later we were standing on Mrs. Finch’s front porch. It was a three-story house, towering over us like a wedding cake, white with butter-colored shutters. Shaggy roses were blooming along the steps, and red birds hopped in the ankle-deep grass.
“Are you sure this is it?” Alice Ann said.
“This is the address Doris gave me.” I rang the ornate brass doorbell and it gonged out the first few bars of “Old Rugged Cross.”
“Coming!” said a voice from inside, over the frantic barking of a dog. The door creaked open and a gray-haired lady smiled at us. A small black-and-white dog ran in circles, alternately sniffing and barking.
“You must be the folks Doris called about,” the woman said, holding open the screen door with her gnarled hand. The little dog jumped up and down, his paws digging into the woman’s purple housedress. “Stop that, Kenny,” she scolded, but he kept on jumping and whining. “Don’t mind him, he’s acting plum crazy. I’m Mrs. Finch. Step right on in, y’all.”
We walked into a dark hall that smelled of mildew. Kenny turned his wildness on Alice Ann, jumping on her knees. Mrs. Finch led us into a cheerless parlor. All the furniture was covered up with sheets. I sat down on what appeared to be a high-backed Victorian sofa, and a plume of dust curled up around my hips. Kenny scrambled over and laid his head on my knee, giving me a look of pure and utter devotion. He was all black except for a white circle around his right eye. As I petted his hard little head, I felt something inside my chest relax and uncoil.
Mrs. Finch prowled around the room, lifting the sheets and peering underneath them. The whole time she rattled off a list of things I should know. The rent was $25 a week, but she’d waive the deposit. Gas, water, and lights were included. Meals were not. The bathroom was a communal one, shared by the other boarders, but fortunately there were several other baths in the boardinghouse. All the downstairs rooms, including the large kitchen, could be utilized. While she prattled on, Kenny ran over to Alice Ann and licked her freckled hand.
“We’ve got a little community college, and I get a fair number of students. Most of them are waiting for an apartment to come available. My last boarder was an art major, and she painted her room deep purple. You’ll be getting her old room.”
“My cousin had a purple room,” I said, and Alice Ann shot me a coy look.
“It’s bright, that’s for sure,” said Mrs. Finch.
The baby in my arms, we walked in silence through the high-ceilinged rooms, with Kenny trotting behind Mrs. Finch. The dining room had scroll wallpaper and a long table with carved dolphin feet. Four of the chairs matched. The chandelier was full of glass doodads that hung down and caught the sun. She led us up a grand staircase with worn red carpeting. Kenny raced ahead, panting with the effort. He ran down the hall and stopped in front of a door. Mrs. Finch ambled over to him, fishing in her pocket for a key. Then she flung open the door. As I followed her into the room, I saw that the walls were much brighter than Violet’s back home. They reminded me of an Easter egg that had soaked in lilac dye too long.
“Don’t let this shade put you off,” Mrs. Finch said. “You can paint it over if you like. But you will have to supply your own paint. I do have my limits.”
“No, the purple’s fine,” I said quickly.
“Well, all right, then.” Mrs. Finch smiled, and I thought the old woman might like us, just a little. While Kenny patrolled the hall, I opened a closet and peered inside.
“It’s an old house,” Mrs. Finch was saying, snapping her fingers at Kenny, “not much in the way of storage, but it has lovely views. That French door opens out onto a veranda. It’s got steps that go down to the lawn.”
Alice Ann turned the glass knob and peered out. I could see green wooden steps leading down to the yard, with camelia bushes at the base. There was a path to the beach, and a tall hedge grew alongside it. The path stopped abruptly, and the road began. Traffic drifted across the boulevard. Beyond the road, the beach started, and farther out, in the gray water, were whitecaps. Alice Ann reached down and scratched Kenny’s head. The dog’s lips pulled back, showing a rubbery blue edge, and his tail thumped wildly against the floor.
“We can stay here,
I guess,” she said, looking up at me. Mrs. Finch cast a quizzical glance in our direction. I put the baby in Alice Ann’s arms, then unsnapped my purse and opened my wallet, counting out Claude’s money. The green bills, which were mostly ones and fives, made a thick pile in Mrs. Finch’s cupped hand, but she didn’t seem to mind. She tucked the cash into her bosom.
“Welcome to Finch House,” she said, and reached out to shake my hand.
After the woman left, Alice Ann spread out her arms and wheeled around the room. “It’s a mansion!”
“Well, not exactly,” I said, thinking of the Wentworths’ estate back in Crystal Falls. A five-foot-tall black wrought-iron fence hemmed in their property, which was three acres near the downtown.
“We’ll have to find a used furniture store and get a crib or playpen for the baby,” I said, staring at the bed. It was a double, with a high, carved headboard. The chest of drawers had a cracked marble top, and pieces of wood were coming loose along the seams, but I could fix it with glue. Of course, to afford a crib and glue, I would have to find a job, and soon.
The next morning, I put on my polka-dot dress and stood in front of the spotted mirror, frowning at my reflection. The circles under my eyes matched the purple room.
“You look pretty,” Alice Ann said, pulling Jennifer into her lap. “Where you going?”
“Job hunting.” I reached down to straighten my wrinkled skirt.
“You need a black dress,” Alice Ann suggested. “Blondes look more intelligent in black.”
I laughed. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Mama was a blonde.” Her brow furrowed. “Is a blonde.”
“So where’d you get that red hair?”
“Nobody knows.” Alice Ann shrugged.
“From your daddy?”
“No, Eunice says he was brown-headed.”
“How do I look from the rear?”
“Like a brick shithouse,” said Alice Ann.
“If I could afford to buy soap,” I said, ruffling the girl’s hair, “I’d wash your mouth out.”
Mad Girls In Love Page 6
