Chasing Lilacs

by Carla Stewart

  “Sammie, are you all right? What were you doing?” Slim’s voice was stronger now.

  I looked from him to Mrs. Gray.

  “What is she doing here?” My brains still felt scrambled.

  “This is Olivia, my daughter. She’s been telling me you’re one of her students.”

  “Your daughter? How? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It didn’t occur to me—that’s a fact.”

  Mrs. Gray, just a vision a moment ago, sat beside me, putting her arm around me, pulling me close. She kissed the top of my head.

  “I… I guess I ran away from home.” An explanation seemed necessary all of a sudden. Not every Christmas does a juvenile delinquent turn up on your doorstep. And by now I’d figured out Mr. Howard’s prediction about me had come true. What next? Stealing candy from Willy Bailey? Letting the air out of tires? All because Aunt Vadine kissed Daddy?

  Slim got up to answer a knock at the door. Daddy came in, stomping the snow off his boots, already going into a spiel about me disappearing and asking if they’d seen me. Our eyes met, and I couldn’t tell if relief at seeing me or the possibility of strangulation flashed in Daddy’s dark eyes.

  “Thank God you’re all right,” he said. “What in tarnation came over you?”

  “Calm down, Joe. Olivia and I were just playing a friendly game of backgammon when we got an unexpected visitor. Take off your coat and stay awhile.”

  Mrs. Gray (I couldn’t get it in my head her name was Olivia) slipped into the kitchen and came back with a cup of coffee for Daddy and steaming Ovaltine for me. The feeling came back in my fingers and toes as Daddy and Slim talked about the weather.

  “Just a flurry tonight, that’s all. The Old Farmer’s Almanac says we’re in for an inch or more the end of the month,” Slim said. “Can’t go wrong with the almanac. Hits it on the head every time. Sure can use the moisture though, that’s for sure.”

  Mrs. Gray went into one of the bedrooms and then motioned for me to come in. She gave me a woolly sweater and a pair of corduroy slacks that bagged around the seat but fit okay otherwise.

  “Here, some dry socks will help your feet.”

  “Thanks. Sorry I’m so much trouble.”

  “Pooh, no trouble at all. And when you feel up to it, I’m a good listener.”

  “Thanks. Maybe later.”

  Slim protested when Daddy said we ought to be getting back.

  “The night is young. Why, Olivia and I here had pert near bored ourselves to death talking about the weather. Sammie, you ever played pinochle?”

  “Nope, but if it’s anything like backgammon, I’m willing to learn.”

  “Totally different game. Most folks down at the church frown on card playing, but I’ve been playing since I was knee high to a tadpole. You’ll like it. You can be on my side.”

  “I haven’t played pinochle since the army.” Daddy set his hat on the end table. “Olivia here won’t be getting much of a partner.” It was settled. No more talk about rushing home, back to the disaster I’d caused. It was my fault, I knew that. I also knew I would have to untangle the mess. Just not tonight. Thank you, Jesus.

  Pinochle turned out to be trickier than backgammon. For one thing, the card deck only had face cards, plus aces, tens, and nines, two of each in the four suits. You had to know a jillion combinations and what each one counted in order to bid and lay down your meld. Nothing simple like crazy eights or go fish.

  Daddy caught back on as quick as a jackrabbit and laughed as he and Mrs. Gray slaughtered us the first game. While Slim dealt the cards, Daddy looked over at Mrs. Gray. “You know, I’ve been wondering…. What would happen if I took those knitting needles out of your hair?”

  She held up her hands and widened her eyes. “I’d unravel, that’s what. Such a mess!” Which made Daddy laugh, a deep belly laugh I hadn’t heard in forever.

  On a scrap of paper I wrote down how much all the pinochle combinations counted and kept it as a cheat sheet. The next game I got the hang of it, and Slim and I won by fifty points.

  “Eggnog anyone?” Mrs. Gray scampered off to the kitchen. She brought short, squatty glasses for everyone, and we laughed until our sides ached from seeing who could make the biggest mustache of the creamy, sweet drink—nonalcoholic, Mrs. Gray assured us.

  Daddy and Mrs. Gray beat us at the last game of pinochle, partly because I could barely keep my eyes open.

  “Better get Sis home before she falls asleep and I have to carry her.”

  “Oh, Daddy, it’s been years since you’ve done that.”

  The ground was barely white when we stepped outside—no more snow. Slim was right, only a flurry, but still, a biting wind went through me. Thankfully Daddy had driven the car, and while we sat there waiting for it to warm up, he brought up the earlier part of the evening, the part I wished had never happened.

  “Sis, I expect you to apologize to your aunt for your actions. This may not have been the Christmas you were expecting, but rudeness is never acceptable.”

  “But Mama’s pearls—she took them from me.”

  “Borrowed them. She’s trying to help you, help me, the best way she knows how. You’ve got to give her some credit now and again.”

  My jaw tensed.

  Daddy continued, “You’ll apologize first thing tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll apologize.” What else could I say? My bones ached from being frozen and thawed out. Ovaltine and eggnog gurgled in my stomach. All I could think of was flopping onto my feather bed.

  One thing kept dancing in my head. This had been a memorable Christmas, both the worst and the best I could remember. The worst being the disaster with Aunt Vadine; the best—hearing Daddy laugh again. Something inside me hummed right along with the car’s heater as Daddy drove us home.

  [ THIRTY-THREE ]

  WHEN I WOKE UP the next morning, the house was quiet. My stomach ached as I remembered my promised apology to Aunt Vadine. Pulling the covers up to my neck, I tried to swallow. Too dry. Scratchy. My eyes burned, and a heavy dull ache pressed against my skull. I fell back into a deep sleep until Aunt Vadine’s voice brought me out of my feverish dreams.

  “You going to sleep all day, Samantha?” Hard and raspy, like the soreness in my throat.

  “Sorry. Could I have a drink please?” My bed felt like a toaster, burning my skin.

  “Your legs aren’t broken. Hurry up. We need to get the tree down before your daddy comes in from work.”

  My head flopped from side to side to tell her no, but she stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for me to get up.

  In the bathroom, I cupped my hands and splashed cold water on my face, slurping a mouthful from my hands. Dizzy. And hot. I’ve got to sit down. I took a deep breath and held my wet hands over my eyelids to ease their burning. I stumbled into the front room, where ornaments and tinsel from the tree covered the couch and Daddy’s chair.

  “I’m going back to bed. My throat is sore, and I think I have a fever.”

  “It’s no wonder with your inexcusable behavior last night. Your failure to think of anyone but yourself does have repercussions, you know.”

  The way she spat out her words hit me like I’d heard them all before. Was it the fever talking? A revelation from heaven? My head felt swimmy.

  Aunt Vadine had talked to Mama the same way a while back, maybe a very long time ago. My head pounded as I tried to remember. Did Aunt Vadine hate Mama for some reason? Had she decided to take it out on me? Why? And if so, why did she care what happened to Daddy and me? I mean, really, if she wanted to help, she had a strange way of showing it.

  My throat felt like I’d swallowed a flaming sword, but I plunged right in to my apology. “About last night, I’m sorry for what I said and did.”

  “I should hope you’d have a scrap of remorse after scaring your father and me that way. What were you doing blundering off into the night without even a coat?”

  No answer would have satisfied her, so I changed the subj
ect.

  “My head hurts. Can I go lay back down?”

  “Might as well. You’re used to doing whatever suits you. Even after we tried to give you a pleasant family Christmas.”

  As I sank into my feather bed, something else flitted about in my head. If Aunt Vadine hadn’t come to school to get the typewriter I’d asked for, what was she doing there?

  When Daddy got home, he brought me a cool rag and smeared my neck with Vicks before wrapping a clean handkerchief around it. “Get some rest, Sis.”

  All night and most of Saturday, I felt so hot I couldn’t catch my breath. I dreamed of being a marshmallow on the end of a stick, poked into a campfire. My body shook under the covers. When the fever broke, my sweat drenched the sheets. I got up to put on dry pajamas and change my sheets and noticed my throat didn’t feel raw anymore. No headache. Just stuffiness, like a head cold.

  The next day I felt well enough to go to church. Aunt Vadine handed me the sailor dress, which I laid gently on the bed. “No thanks.”

  “It’s a perfectly stunning dress. Any girl should be so fortunate—”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll wear the dress if you give Mama’s pearls back to me.”

  Her face splotched. “Over my dead body.” She snatched the dress up and huffed off.

  That afternoon Tuwana came over gushing about her trip to Lubbock. “Granny bought me the coolest sweaters. Look at this, real cashmere….” She twirled around in our front room in a tulip pink twinset that matched her rosy cheeks. Her arm rattled like a wind chime every time she made the slightest movement. “Don’t you love this charm bracelet?” She dangled her wrist in front of my face. We went into my bedroom and closed the door, where she recited what each charm represented.

  “Your bracelet’s great.” I tried to sound happy for her. “How were your grandparents?”

  “The usual—presents, presents, presents. The best holiday ever. Except for the big to-do about Daddy.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Pops announced his retirement from the insurance company and wanted Daddy to come work with Uncle Reggie, to keep it in the family. Of course Daddy said no thanks, he and Mother were doing all right with her new job. Mother went on and on about the golden opportunity, no more grease under his fingernails and wondering where our next meal was coming from. Tara and Tommie Sue sided with her, babbling on about going to Granny’s house for slumber parties.”

  “What about you? Did you stick up for your dad?”

  “I remained neutral. Actually, I don’t want to have to start my whole life over, going to a new school, wondering if I’ll fit in. Besides, I’ve decided to try for cheerleader again next year. I’m growing my hair out so I can wear a ponytail with those cute see-through scarves I saw everyone in Lubbock wearing.”

  “I’m surprised at your mom. I thought she liked her job.”

  “She did—until she found out she made ten cents an hour less than the janitor. Now she’s thinking about quitting. All the way home she and Daddy argued about how they would pay for my braces. Mother said if he’d quit acting like the black sheep of the family, we’d have money to burn.”

  “Both sides have their points, I can see that, but I hope you don’t move.”

  “Me too. How was your Christmas?”

  I told her all about the pearls and the sailor dress.

  “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

  “You mean, am I going to wear the dress? Not for all the tumbleweeds in Texas—no way.”

  “No, about the pearls.”

  “I haven’t figured it out yet. What do you think?”

  “Your mom gave them to you. I say take them back.”

  “Tuwana, that’s stealing. Besides, I don’t know where they are.”

  “It’s not stealing if you’re taking what was yours to start with. You’re reclaiming stolen property. Pure and simple.”

  “If only it were simple….”

  Tuwana had already started pulling out drawers, digging in Aunt Vadine’s undies, scrambling them up, and slamming the drawers shut. She lifted the mattress and peeked under it.

  “Stop. Even if you found them, I couldn’t take them. It would just make matters worse.”

  “Worse than what? My gosh, you have some rights, you know. It’ll only get worse when she starts making her move to become your new mother.”

  “Don’t talk like that. Daddy’s not interested.”

  “Mother says all men are interested. Interested in someone to cook, clean, and share the sack with.” The last part she whispered, cocking her head toward the front room.

  The blue scarf Aunt Vadine had wrapped around Daddy’s neck flashed through my head. The way she touched him, her merry “Whatever you’d like, Joe.” Best friends or not, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Tuwana about that. If I said it out loud, the possibility of it coming true would become real. For some reason, I also kept the part about going to Slim’s to myself, although that had been the best part of Christmas.

  “Nothing good is going to come of this. Trust me.” Tuwana’s blue eyes bored into me.

  “Meanwhile, back at the ranch…”

  “Whatever. Just remember, I told you so, and if you need any help, you can count on me.” She jangled her wrist and dug into her oversized coat pocket. “I almost forgot. I got you something.”

  Inside the reindeer-printed paper was a small diary with a clasp and a tiny silver key.

  “It’s perfect! The best present I’ve ever received.” I clutched the powdery blue diary to my chest with one arm and gave Tuwana a hug with the other. “Thank you.”

  January 1, 1959

  Dear Diary,

  We had ham hocks and black-eyed peas today. Good luck, you know. I could use it after this last year. I’ve made my New Year’s resolution. I am going to quit running away from my problems. I have to stand up for myself. I just have to.

  SJT

  * * *

  I couldn’t wait to get back to school and see Mrs. Gray. On the first day of classes, Cly told me all about Big Tex and Eva’s cousin who had a used-car lot. Norm promised they’d go back to Dallas and get Cly a car when he passed his driving test. “I’m holding out for a ragtop.”

  The day dragged by slower than molasses. Finally last hour came, and I hurried to Mrs. Gray’s class with the clothes she’d loaned me in a paper sack. Her head jerked up when she saw me, the bun on top of her head bouncing lightly. She seemed surprised to see me. Ever since Christmas night, I’d had conversations with myself about what I would say to her and how funny it was to find out she was Slim’s daughter. She hurried over to me.

  “Sammie, I’m sorry. I thought you had gotten the message. Mr. Howard wishes to speak to you.” Her fingertips rested on my shoulder for a second.

  “No, no message, but I’ll go if I’m supposed to. Here are your clothes. Thanks for letting me use them.”

  She took the bag from me, her eyes sad. A twinge went through me, the teensiest bit of panic. Was it Goldie? Daddy? Maybe something had happened to Scarlett.

  Mr. Howard’s door stood open behind the empty secretary’s chair. He waved me in. Cheerful, rosy-cheeked, he pointed to a chair for me to sit down. He picked up a folder, put on thick, black-rimmed glasses, and studied a sheet of paper.

  “Mmmm… all A’s for the semester. Quite a pleasant surprise in view of all that’s happened.” He smiled and seemed to expect a response.

  “I like school and know I have to make good grades for college.”

  He cleared his throat. “Keeping up with my students is of particular interest to me, one of the qualities of a good principal, I like to think.”

  Did he think we were doing a follow-up on him for the newspaper? If so, it was news to me.

  He went on. “I must admit, I had a few worries about you, but I can tell having your aunt in the home has been a stabilizing factor, of which you are no doubt aware. Maxine, I believe her name is.”

  “Vadine
. Her name is Vadine Cox.” How did he know her?

  “Yes, quite a mesmerizing woman. So perceptive too. She’s pleased with your academic progress, but expressed some other concerns to me when we visited before Christmas.”

  My fingers gripped the metal arms of my chair. That’s what she was doing at the school—talking to Mr. Howard. What concerns? Obviously not the typewriters.

  “She says you’re headstrong, with a tendency toward impulsive actions and disregard for others. She’s noticed a pattern, and having grown up with a mentally unstable sister—that would be your mother—she’s worried about you. What brought her to me was the article you wrote for our school newspaper. Not the one about me—you did a fine job on that. The Christmas article you did. I’m afraid it concerned your lovely aunt greatly.”

  “What?” She never said one word to me about it. I racked my brain trying to remember if she even read the school paper when I showed it to Daddy.

  “Your aunt says your fanciful ideas in the article are in direct opposition to your family’s religious beliefs, and your confusion about the most basic things you’ve been taught has caused her much grief.”

  “Yes, sir. She believes my mom died and went straight to hell.”

  “Sammie, we don’t allow swearing at school, and in matters of religious issues, we steer completely clear. That is why you’ve been released from working on the paper. Best all around, I think. Working with families is one of the strengths I bring to my position here. You’ve been assigned to study hall for this semester. Any questions?”

  “Mentioning heaven could hardly be called religious. More of just imagining what Christmas in heaven would be like. You know, would there be snow, Christmas trees, or would every day be like Christmas?”

  “I see your aunt’s point. Your fantasies now might be just the tip of the iceberg toward deeper delusions. I’m afraid my decision stands. Anything further you’d like to say?”

  Aunt Vadine did this. How could she?

  I studied my fingernails, trying to decide what to say.

  Does he expect me to blurt out an apology? Or fly off my rocker like he thinks Mama did? No! I won’t let him get to me. Face. Your. Problems.