by Anne George
Meemaw had moved forward and was sitting on the edge of the sofa. “You hurt your head falling over a turkey?”
“Right on my sister’s stoop. I could have killed myself. A whole turkey, not a frozen one, but feathers and all, just lying there with its insides hanging out.” I shuddered. “Yuck.”
Meemaw shook another piece of ice into her mouth and stood up. “Thanks, Patricia Anne.”
“For what? Was the turkey the message?”
“Probably.”
I got up, too. “What does the message say? We figured it was some kind of warning.”
“I don’t know, but I saw a light.”
“I used to see lights when I was getting a migraine. Zigzag like a zipper lights. Hormonal, so I don’t get them anymore.”
“This is a flash.”
“Are your retinas okay?”
Meemaw actually giggled as we walked toward the door. “They’re fine.”
Heat poured through the door as I opened it. “You going to be all right out here?” I asked.
“Sure. Thanks.” She unstuck the polyester shorts from her rear end.
“Will you let us know when you find out what the message means?”
“Soon as I find out.”
I watched her walk toward her car. Sunlight was bouncing off the car’s fins. As she drove off, I wished that I had called her back, fixed lemonade, had her tell me about her life. For I realized as she gave me a wave and backed the car out of my driveway, that I liked Meemaw Turkett. A bubble out of plumb, maybe, but I liked her a lot.
The slight doze and the peach shake had revitalized me. I checked the answering machine and didn’t have any messages which made me feel bad. Mary Alice’s phone is always full of messages. Of course she belongs to every organization in town and is on the board of half of them. Probably doesn’t know what meeting she’s attending half the time.
I checked the utility room. The washer and dryer are in there, but Muffin’s litter box could go in the corner under a shelf. There’d be room for her to get in. We’d have to leave the door cracked, but it was either there or the guest bathroom.
A plastic bag lying on top of the washing machine reminded me that I had done nothing with my turkey-spattered clothes. I opened the bag, holding my breath, and took out the shirt, underwear, and linen pants. By the time I got the Spray ’n Wash down, though, I was forced to breathe. There was a definite odor, but it wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be. I sprayed the washable things, added a few more clothes from the hamper, and turned the machine on. The linen pants needed to go to the cleaners right now; I shouldn’t have waited this long.
Holding them away from me, I went through the pockets. A stick of Freedent, a receipt from the Piggly Wiggly, a Kleenex, a pebble, a Tum, two pennies. I dumped the stuff on the kitchen table, grabbed my purse, and went to the cleaners.
“Turkey?” the lady asked, looking from my forehead to the pants. “You’re sure?”
I nodded that I was sure.
“Because I’ve got a number right here”—she opened a drawer—“a domestic violence hot line.”
“My husband’s the most nonviolent man in the world.”
She looked at me speculatively. “You got children?”
“Hey, it’s turkey blood. Clean it.”
“Well, it could be evidence, you know.”
This woman was going to have Fred or the kids in jail before nightfall at this rate. But she truly looked worried.
“It’s all right. But thank you.”
She seemed to believe me. But I left the cleaners knowing more about domestic violence in our neighborhood than I had wanted to know.
I checked my watch. I had time to stop by the grocery and get some shrimp. Shrimp salad would be good for supper. Split a croissant and put the salad on it with a couple of slices of tomato on the side, and Fred would think I’d been cooking all afternoon. I ran into Mitzi Phizer at the store, though, and had to explain my forehead. I didn’t mention the turkey, just that I had fallen on Mary Alice’s porch. “Witch hazel,” she recommended. “You need to keep dabbing witch hazel on it.”
Haley was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a beer when I got home.
“Sorry,” I said, putting the shrimp into the refrigerator. “You been here long?”
“Just a few minutes. Muffin’s hiding in the closet in your bedroom.”
“I thought I’d put her litter box in the utility room.”
Haley pushed her hair back with both hands. “Okay. Everything’s out in the car.” Her voice was teary.
“She’ll be fine.”
“I know. It’s just everything’s happening so fast.”
I pulled out a chair and sat down. “You can get married when Philip gets back. That way you’ll have plenty of time to plan everything.”
Haley looked up in horror. “Mama!”
I grinned. “Then go get Muffin’s stuff and let’s get her settled. Do you need any help?”
“I can get it.”
In a few minutes she was back and came into the utility room where I was putting the clothes in the dryer.
“This food. Where shall I put it?”
I pointed to a shelf. “Guess what. I’ve seen Sunshine and Meemaw both today.”
“Really? Sunshine’s showed up?”
“Not exactly.” I related the story of Sunshine and the pickup truck and Meemaw’s visit.
“Does Ray know about it?”
“Probably your Aunt Sister’s told him by now. She doesn’t know about Meemaw’s visit, though.”
“That’s really strange that she thought the turkey was some kind of sign.” By this time we were back at the table and Haley reached for the stick of Freedent. “Can I have this?”
“Sure. I guess it’s okay. It was in the pocket of the pants I had on last night. All this stuff was.” I pointed toward the little pile of things I had removed before I took the pants to the cleaners.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’d better throw it away. I sure don’t want food poisoning on my wedding day.” Haley picked up the rock. “What’s this?”
“I think it came from Meemaw’s trailer. She and Sunshine were playing Chinese checkers and were using pebbles for some of the checkers I guess were lost.”
“That’s sad, Mama.”
“It’s their choice, Haley.” I filled her in on Eddie’s wealth. “And Pawpaw’s got to be drawing a good amount of disability, and Kerrigan and Howard are both doing well.”
“But maybe, some way, Meemaw is left out, scapegoated. Maybe that’s why she needs a Gabriel.”
I couldn’t see Meemaw in the role of scapegoat, but I supposed it was possible. The lady at the cleaners had reminded me that all families are not what they appear on the surface. And Meemaw had said that if she had known the dead man on her floor, it would have been better.
“Mama.” Haley’s eyes widened suddenly. “There are two big men with beards coming up the back steps.”
I turned to see Ray waving through the glass top of the kitchen door.
“It’s Ray, Haley.”
“Well, I see it is now.” She was out of her chair, opening the door, and throwing herself into his arms before I could get up.
“Little Ray, you’ve got a beard.”
“And you’re getting married.” Ray picked Haley up and held her by her elbows as if she weighed nothing. “Somebody’s marrying himself a feisty red-head tomorrow.”
“And somebody’s already married himself a beautiful blonde.”
“But sweet, not feisty. I swear I think I better go call that doctor and tell him what he’s getting into.”
Buck Owens had come into the kitchen behind Ray and was smiling at the reunion.
“Hi, Buck,” I said. “Come over and have a seat.”
He ambled over and pulled out a chair. “I’d say those two are glad to see each other.”
“They’re the two youngest. They’ve always taken up for each other.”
&n
bsp; “Hey, Aunt Pat.” Ray deposited Haley in a chair and leaned over to kiss me. “Haley, this is Buck Owens. Buck, Haley Buchanan who this time tomorrow will be Haley Nachman. I didn’t know I was coming home to a wedding.”
Haley chuckled. “Neither did I, but I’m certainly glad. Y’all want a beer?”
“Sure,” Ray said. “I’ll get it. Buck?”
“Got any Diet Coke?”
“In the pantry, Ray.” I turned to Buck and asked him if they had been out to Locust Fork.
“Yep. Ray met his in-laws, all of them except Meemaw and Eddie.”
“Interesting folks,” Ray said, disappearing into the pantry. He reappeared in a moment with a can of Diet Coke. “Buck’s in love with Kerrigan.”
Buck gave an aw-shucks grin. “Best-looking woman I’ve ever seen.”
“She’s beautiful,” I agreed. I turned to Ray. “Did your mama tell you I saw Sunshine this morning?”
“She said on Twentieth Street in a hardware store.” Ray brought the Coke to Buck and sat down. “That’s why we came by, to find out the details.”
I repeated the story again and was asked by Buck what kind of pickup it was.
“Mama doesn’t know one car from the other, let alone a truck,” Haley explained.
“I know Meemaw’s car. It’s an old Chevrolet, a Bel Air with fins.”
“Those things are worth a fortune,” Buck said. “Is it in good shape?”
“It runs,” I said. Then I explained that Meemaw had been by because Gabriel had sent her, which called for more explaining.
Haley pushed her chair back. “I’ve got to go, Mama. Gabriel’s going to take a while and I’ve still got a million things to do.” She kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll call you after while. Muffin will come out when she’s ready.”
It was just as well the two men were there. It kept me from crying when she went out the back door.
“Meemaw’s channeler?” Ray nudged me back onto the subject. “Is she serious?”
“Absolutely.” I repeated Meemaw’s story of the flying saucer she had seen on the way home from bingo. “He told her to come here today,” I said. “Told her I had a message for her.”
“Did you?” Ray asked.
“Not that I know of. I finally just started talking, and when I told her about falling over the turkey, she said that was the message.”
“A message about what?”
“I don’t know. She just said that was the message and left.”
Buck and Ray both smiled. Smart alecks.
“Hey, she believes it.” The phone rang and I got up to answer it.
“Mouse,” Mary Alice said. It was her tight voice, the one that always means something’s very wrong.
“What?” I held my breath.
“Bo Mitchell just called me. They answered an emergency call at Eddie Turkett’s house, and apparently Meemaw’s had a stroke.”
“Oh, Lord,” I said, leaning against the counter. “It’s my fault.”
“How come? What did you do?”
“Let her go out in the heat.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mouse. You couldn’t very well sit on her.”
“She looked awful, though.”
“Well, of course she did. She was sick as a dog.”
This wasn’t making me feel any better. “How bad is she?”
“I don’t think they know yet. Bo called me because she said Meemaw was asking for me. So she’s not unconscious; that’s a good sign.”
“Was Eddie there? Did he call the rescue squad?”
“I have no idea. Bo says they’re taking her to University, though. I’m going on down there. Is Ray still at your house?”
“He’s right here.”
“Let me speak to him a minute.”
I handed Ray the phone. “It’s your mama. Meemaw’s had a stroke.” I sat back down at the table. “It’s my fault,” I told Buck. “I thought I was going to have to call 911 while she was here.”
“A heatstroke or a stroke stroke?” Buck asked.
“I don’t know. She’s conscious but she’s not thinking right. She’s asking for Sister.”
Ray hung up the phone. “I’m going down to University Hospital to meet Mama. Buck, if you’ll drop me off, you can use my car to go home.”
“Sure thing.” Buck drank the last of his Coke and stood up. “These folks are having their share of troubles, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are,” I agreed. And part of them were my fault.
Fourteen
The smell of shrimp being peeled brought Muffin into the kitchen. She’s a large calico that Tom and Haley found as a kitten abandoned in a Winn-Dixie parking lot. It was instant love. The apartment complex where they were living didn’t allow pets so they moved. Muffin was anemic and had flea allergies; she was given vitamins and allergy shots, was combed every day. She became sleek, and then plump. She was put on a special diet. Now middle-aged and shiny with good health, she leaped gracefully to my kitchen table and looked at me.
“You’re not allowed on the kitchen table,” I said.
Muffin looked surprised and hurt.
“I’ll give you just one shrimp if you’ll get down.”
The deal was struck. I took the shrimp into the utility room and put it in her bowl.
“This is your apartment,” I explained. “Bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom.”
Muffin dragged the shrimp from the bowl and onto the floor where she proceeded to tear it into small bits before she ate it. We were going to have to discuss this some more. I hoped Haley had checked out how Philip felt about cats.
The back door opened and Mitzi Phizer called, “Patricia Anne?”
“I’m in here with Haley’s cat.”
Mitzi stuck her head around the door. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure she understands the rules.”
Mitzi snorted. “Rules for a cat?”
Muffin walked by both of us and leaped onto the kitchen table again where she began an elaborate grooming session.
Mitzi laughed. “That’s what I want to come back as. A big fat cat.” She held out a bowl. “Here’s some fruit salad. I figure the next couple of days are going to be hectic for you and it’ll come in handy. You want me to put it in the refrigerator?”
“Thanks. I’ve got shrimp on my hands.”
“Go ahead and finish peeling them.” Mitzi put the salad into the refrigerator and sat down at the kitchen table. She and Muffin both looked at me.
“Actually,” I admitted, “I don’t have much to do at all. The wedding is just sort of happening.” I offered Mitzi a shrimp. She shook her head no. “Alan and Lisa are coming over from Atlanta but are going straight back home. One of their boys is in a baseball tournament. Freddie’s out of town, and Debbie may not feel like coming.” I shrugged. “It’s certainly different from Haley’s first wedding.”
“But they’ll be just as married.” Mitzi rolled the pebble that was still on the table toward Muffin. Muffin ignored it.
“Of course they will.” But I didn’t want to talk about the wedding. I told Mitzi that Meemaw had been here earlier and might have had a stroke, that they had taken her to University Hospital, and that she had been asking for Mary Alice.
“Maybe she wants to confess to her that she killed the Indian guy.” Mitzi shuddered. “Lord, I’m glad I didn’t walk in on that.”
“I wish I hadn’t.” I peeled the last shrimp and put the shells in the plastic bag they had come in. “Nope, I don’t think Meemaw did it. I think she knows a lot more than she’s telling, though.” I soaped my hands. “I think maybe she’s scared it’s Howard or Eddie. Or even Kerrigan.”
“What makes you think that? And why would Sunshine have run from one of them?”
I rinsed my hands and dried them on a paper towel. “I really don’t know,” I admitted. “Just a feeling.”
“It could have been Sunshine.”
“She was there by herself,” I agreed. “I suppo
se the fellow could have been breaking in. But it doesn’t make sense that she’d run.” I got the celery from the refrigerator, pulled it apart, and offered Mitzi one of the tiny stalks from the center.
“Sure.”
I rinsed it and handed it to her. I took one, too.
“Maybe”—Mitzi crunched into her celery—“maybe it was all of them like that Agatha Christie movie where Mia Farrow and Ingrid Bergman were going down the Nile.” She chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t even remember who they killed. I just remember it was all of them and Mia Farrow looked pitiful in it. You know how washed-out she looks when she doesn’t have on eye makeup.”
“I don’t think that’s the right movie,” I said. “Wasn’t it the one on the Orient Express? And was Candice Bergen in it?”
“I don’t remember. I just remember Candice Bergen hanging around Gandhi all the time. He’d be trying to say something wise and here she’d be taking his picture in those droopy diaper pants.” Mitzi took another bite of celery. “I know he was one of the greatest men who ever lived, but I declare, Patricia Anne, the man should have worn some sure-enough pants.”
We were both quiet for a moment, as quiet as we could be while eating celery. The mention of nice pants suddenly reminded me of the clothes that Dudley Cross had been wearing, the neat gray suit. Mitzi’s thoughts were obviously roaming in another direction.
“What kind of pants did Jesus wear, Patricia Anne? Do you remember?”
“How come I should remember what kind of pants Jesus wore?”
“From the pictures on the front of the Sunday school weekly readers.”
“There were always children gathered around him.”
“That’s true. I don’t guess it matters anyway, does it?”
“I don’t think so.” I began to chop the celery. “You can look it up in the World Book.”
“I want to get on the Internet.”
The phone’s ring was welcome.
“Mrs. Hollowell? Jed Reuse here. I’m looking for your nephew Ray and thought you might know where he is. I’ve tried your sister’s.”
“Have you found Sunshine?”
Mitzi looked up from scratching Muffin’s chin.
“No, I’m afraid not. I’d like to get in touch with him this afternoon, though.”
