Grant put her down, ruffled her hair and walked out the door.
Joanna puckered her lips in a disapproving fashion. “Well, I never.”
Bitsy slapped her on the arm. “Of course you never.” Bitsy winked at me, which caused me to chuckle. She was wearing a t-shirt that said, ‘If you’re old enough to remember Lash LaRue, you’re the guy for me.”
“Who’s Lash LaRue?” I asked.
Bitsy smiled. “The hottest movie star of my day, of course, I was a kid at the time. He was a western star and used a whip instead of a gun. I read somewhere that he married ten times...must have been a romantic.”
I’d never heard of the guy. It sounded more like an eyelash extension.
Joanna glared at me, causing me to turn around. I noticed that Margie was still holding the cheek that Grant had kissed.
Margie mouthed, thank you.
I felt embarrassed and turned to my two guests.
“You’re up and out early. What’s going on?”
Bitsy started to talk as she headed for the coffeepot.
“Joanna found that picture and decided to bring it over and asked me to join her.”
Joanna stood there grimly, her arms pressed tightly to her sides. I could see a large brown envelope tucked under one arm.
I could hardly contain my excitement. I held out my hand and Joanna swiftly turned aside as though guarding the picture.
“Joanna! Coffee?” Bitsy asked.
Joanna glared at me and then reluctantly took the manila envelope from under her arm and thrust it in my hand.
“You do know that Grant is dating my daughter. They’re practically engaged.” She then stalked over to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup of coffee.
Bitsy wandered over and remarked in a low voice that only I could hear. “When Grant marries that bitch, I’ll have a smooth complexion.”
Bitsy nodded toward Joanna. “Old bat didn’t want to bring it, but I forced her to.”
Then Bitsy turned around and spoke louder, so that Joanna and Margie could hear. “Time for a coffee break, girls.”
Bitsy perched herself on the same sofa as she had the day before. She patted the seat next to her. “Sara.”
I dutifully walked over and sat. My fingers trembled as I took the photo out of the envelope and laid it to rest on my lap. Six young girls, their arms across each other’s back, were taking a step forward, into their future.
Bitsy leaned over and pointed her finger at the first figure. “That’s me. Lord, I loved that hairstyle, I need to go back to wearing it that way. This is Maudie next to me. She’s taller than I am.”
Joanna, sitting on a chair in the grouping stated. “Every adult in town is taller than you are.”
“Joanna, most of the third grade is taller than I am.” Bitsy said.
I studied my mother’s face.
Maudie was laughing in the picture, her face young and bright, you could tell at a glance that she had the world by a string and was willing to pull it anyway she wanted it. Her hair seemed a dark brown, though I couldn’t tell what color her eyes were.
Bitsy moved her finger down the line. “That’s Edna, of course.”
I looked at my adoptive mother’s face. She, too, was laughing. Something that she seldom did when she was older. Everything seemed like a chore to her, and a distasteful chore as she raised me. What happened to the laughing girl in the picture?
“Naomi.” Bitsy’s finger trailed across the black-and-white photo.
I smiled. Naomi looked rough even in her youth.
“That’s Bobbie next to her, and of course, Joanna.”
Bobbie was smiling at Naomi and Joanna was a step away from the other girls, her hand resting on Bobbie’s shoulder. A part of the group, but not quite. Plus she was frowning. Did the woman ever smile?
“That’s a horrible picture of me.” Joanna said. “I don’t know why I kept the thing.”
Margie asked. “Can I see it?”
I could feel Joanna freeze up on the other side of me.
“Certainly.” I handed her the photo as Bitsy moved closer to Margie.
“Why is she here?” Joanna whispered. Though her whisper carried over to Margie and Bitsy. They both looked up for a second then dropped their gaze to the photo.
“Margie is helping me with one of the rooms.” I answered.
“Can’t those high school boys Maudie hired help you?”
I laughed. “Well, I guess they could if I was just moving furniture around. Margie has a fantastic eye for decorating and I asked her if she would give me a hand making one of the display rooms a knockout.”
Joanna looked as if she would choke on her coffee.
Bitsy smiled. “Sure, I’ve been telling you Joanna, Margie’s kitchen is to die for.”
Joanna sniffed. “Really.”
“Yeah, you should have her look at your living room and give you some pointers.”
Joanna smiled smugly and sipped her coffee. “Maybe she should look at her own living room.”
Margie glanced at Joanna and gave her a big smile. “Why, you are so right. I am just going to do that thing as soon as possible. In fact, I’m going to redecorate the whole house. Lord knows it been needing it.”
Joanna did choke on her coffee this time. Bitsy jumped up and thumped her on the back. I thought Bitsy used a lot more force than was necessary, but I wasn’t going to say a word. Joanna needed a good thumping.
When Joanna stopped choking, Bitsy pulled her up by the hand. “Come on old girl. Let’s get out of their way before they put us to work.”
Joanna looked startled at that remark, and couldn’t make it to the door fast enough.
Bitsy right behind her.
Just as she closed the door, Bitsy threw Margie and me a kiss.
Margie put her hands on her hips and turned to the dining room. “Come on Sara, before anyone else interrupts us.”
* * *
Grant strode in the living room, hustled to the kitchen, and opened the oven to take a peek.
“Ah, whatever those brown things are sure smell good.”
I knew it. This man thought with his stomach. I smiled.
“Those ‘brown things’ are sweet potato balls. The gumbo is almost ready, if you want to get into something comfortable, now’s the time.”
He gave me a wink, then disappeared into his bedroom.
The doorbell rang, so I trotted down the winding staircase and let in Margie and Lenny.
They both came upstairs and I started to dish up the rice. Margie began to set the table for four, as Lenny stretched out on the love seat and grabbed the daily paper off the coffee table.
Grant came out of his room and seemed startled to see Margie there. It was almost amusing to see the little hamster running the wheel in his brain.
I raised my eyebrow and nodded toward Margie.
He hesitated, letting the rat run the maze some more then gave a weak smile. Poor baby, I bet that hurt.
“Hi, Margie.” He went over and gave her a little hug and a peck on the cheek.
She seemed surprised and shyly grateful.
Grateful. If I had had a rolling pin in my hands, I could have killed some rodents.
“Sara invited your father and me for dinner, since I’ve been helping her all day.”
“All day?”
Margie was excited. “Oh yes! You should see how wonderful it looks downstairs.”
“I’ll have to go see.”
Margie grabbed his arm as he turned toward the staircase.
“Oh, no. Wait until Sara shows you. I wouldn’t want to do anything to mess things up.”
Grant took a step backward. “Mess what up?”
Margie looked embarrassed. She tried to whisper, but I could hear her. “Well, that kiss this morning.”
“That kiss was nothing,” Grant denied.
Grant didn’t notice Lenny standing behind him.
“What kiss?” Asked Lenny.
Grant was
embarrassed. Margie twisted her hands together.
I rushed in to save both of them. “It was nothing. Just a good-bye kiss for Margie, Bitsy and me.”
Glancing over at Grant I said, “You neglected kissing Joanna.”
“Brrrrrr.” Shuddered Lenny. “No one would want to kiss that old bitter cat.”
Bustling over to the oven, I checked the contents, and turned off the heat. “Dinner’s ready. Grant, will you give me a hand with the sweet potatoes?”
“Here, I’ll help,” offered Margie.
“No, you worked too hard today. It’s time someone waited on you for a change. Grant can do it.”
Grant gave me a sneaky smile. As he passed by me in the small kitchen, he whispered. “I’m going to get you back for this.”
“I think you already did. That kiss for Margie meant something, even if you didn’t think so.”
“No. The kiss for you meant something. Not the one for her, you ordered me to be nice. I was just being nice.”
I threw him a baneful look. “Liar. Just admit it. Don’t deny it.”
“I can’t. Not to her.”
I shook my head.
Apparently Grant was a master at hiding his true feelings. Even to himself.
“Come on boy, don’t forget the butter. I’m hungry.” Lenny said.
Grant opened the refrigerator and brought out the butter container.
* * *
“That was excellent, Sara.” Lenny leaned back and rubbed his stomach.
Lenny leaned forward and grabbed the photo that Joanna had given me from the kitchen counter. He looked at it for a moment. “The six-pack. Only three left now, a nutz, a klutz, and a futz.”
“Lenny!”
“Well, it’s true. Edna died in a car crash. Bobbie burned to death. And how did Maudie die, Grant?”
“Lenny!” Margie exclaimed again.
Lenny realized that I sat there, taking in the conversation. “Sorry, Sara. But no one knows how Maudie died. How did she die, Grant?” Even Margie looked expectantly at Grant, though she tried to hide it.
Grant looked embarrassed, then thoughtful. “I honestly don’t know. Does it matter?”
Lenny shrugged. “I guess not.”
I looked over at Grant. “Do you think you can find out?”
Grant hesitated, then shrugged. “Sure. I’ll find out.”
He finished loading the dishwasher and slammed the door shut. Wiping his hands on a dish towel, he grabbed the coffee pot. “More coffee anyone?”
Lenny stretched. “Not for me.”
“Me neither,” stated Margie.
“I want to show you men what we’ve been up to all day.” I stood, as did Margie.
Grant put the coffee pot down and began to follow us down the stairs. Lenny tailing behind.
When I turned on the lights, everyone stood there quietly.
Grant was the first to speak. “Lord, I need to buy a house and fill it up. This looks fabulous.”
“Margie did it all.” Sara said.
Margie laughed. “No. Sara is being too modest, we did it together. Unfortunately, my muscles are letting me know I did too much.” She hesitated, then turned to Lenny.
“Lenny, you better put some extra money into our checking account, because I’m going to redecorate the house.”
I watched as Margie shifted her gaze to Grant, waiting for his reaction to her news.
Grant only smiled, as if half-hearing what was being said. He walked over to a dining room setting and pulling out a chair, then sat.
“I hate to eat and run, but I have to get home for a phone call at eight. Can you unlock the door for us?” Lenny asked.
I retrieved the keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door.
Margie gave me a quick kiss on the cheek along with a brief hug as she left. Lenny grabbed her by the elbow and I watched them walk arm in arm to their car. Whatever Grant thought about his father and Margie, they truly loved each other.
Grant still sat at the table.
Margie had found an antique lace tablecloth to cover it. In the center was a huge worn wooden bowl that was used to make bread long ago. Inside the bowl was a pile of antique croquet balls. Each place setting was of a different pattern of china, not matching but settling into a cohesive whole. The crystal glasses caught the light of the chandelier that hung above, sending sparkles of light around the room. It was a great room, and something about it drew Grant like a moth to a flame. I wondered what.
“Lovely, isn’t it,” I said.
Grant fiddled with the silverware placed before him. “It’s more than lovely. It shows what a home should be like.”
That was a confusing statement, since he grew up in a great home.
“What do you mean?”
“Details.” His long fingers reached over and stroked one of the croquet balls. “Little details.”
“Such as.”
Grant paused in his stroking of the balls. “Well, you can see here that nothing matches. Yet, everything fits together. I could live with this room for the rest of my life and find details that please me. It’s like upstairs. I love the apartment.”
Grant looked at me with a twisted smile on his face. “Do I make any sense?”
“I think so.” I hesitated, my glance pursuing the room one more time. “When things are done with love, it shows. And when love shows up in something, we all want to bask in its warmth, to recapture the love, the feeling of completeness in our lives.” I looked at Grant. “Is that what you mean?”
Grant stood then walked slowly in my direction. He took his finger and lifted my chin, then gently captured my lips in his. They were warm, soft, demanding.
It was like coming home. The warm teasing quality of his lips on mine made me want more. A lot more. A whole lot more.
Sharp rapping on the front door stopped us cold. Grant released me as I opened my eyes and gazed deeply into his. There was something new there. Something I wanted to explore.
The sharp rapping continued along with muffled words. We both turned to see who interrupted our moment.
Great. T-Jack Couvillion. That was all we needed.
I walked over and opened the door. “Yes.”
T-Jack pushed his way in, waved his hand upward at Grant.
“Sorry to interrupt.” He gave both of us a big knowing smile.
Grant managed to keep his face uncommitted. I knew that I was beginning to grin.
“Got some great news for ya, girlie.” T-Jack had a huge ‘I know something you don’t know’ grin on his face.
My ears instantly perked up. “What?”
“I figured out who your daddy is.”
Grant spoke first. “Who?”
“Hey, boy, you should have seen it. Sedge of course.”
Grant barked a laugh. “Sedge. Sedge didn’t move to Boggy Bayou until ten years ago. I’m the one who introduced him to Maudie, so it can’t be Sedge.”
“You’re sure?” T-Jack said.
I looked at Grant hopefully.
“I’m positive.” Grant must have seen how disappointed I was. “But Sara and I will go and see Sedge and point-blank ask him.”
T-Jack rubbed his hands together in glee. “Can I go with ya?”
“No.” We said in unison.
T-Jack seemed hurt by our unified voice. “Well, I could be right.”
“You’re wrong. Now I think it’s time for us to close up shop, I have a busy day tomorrow.” Grant replied.
T-Jack scratched his head. “Are you sure?”
I opened the front door and motioning T-Jack to leave, “I’ll let you know the outcome.”
That information perked him up. “You’re a sweet one, girlie, no wonder Grant was kissing you.” Then he left.
I locked the door. Too embarrassed to look at Grant, I hustled up the stairs, leaving Grant to follow me.
* * *
August 18, 1990
I followed her today.
It was her first day at scho
ol. I knew Edna would drive her, so I waited patiently in my car. Sure enough, out crept their Chrysler. I knew she would be turning right, so I followed her at a distance. It wouldn’t do to be found out. Not now.
My camera was on the seat beside me. Loaded. Ready to take her picture.
There were too many mothers dropping off their children and walking them into the school. I couldn’t get close enough.
I cried in frustration. I didn’t even get a glimpse of her.
Sara. Sara.
How I wish it could have been me to bring you to your first day of adventure. I hope that you like school. You should do well. I loved school and always made excellent grades. And your father. Smart beyond belief. A true scholar. You should do well.
I waited there for what seemed like hours.
Finally you appeared outside for recess.
I could easily pick you out. Your red hair , your tallness, you stood like a princess amongst dwarfs.
I know I’m being unkind. But you are everything to me, and my occasional glimpses of you are all that I live for. It seems I have no purpose in life. I sometimes wonder why I even bother.
But just knowing that you are there, gives me strength and purpose.
I lie awake at night, looking at the stars, knowing that you might be looking at them too.
Most times I cry.
Sometimes I think that you might disappear again.
Then I become afraid.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I feel afraid.”
I stood nervously at Sedge Jeansonne’s door. Grant called him this morning and he invited us both over. Grant reached over placing his hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
My stomach wasn’t feeling okay. “I know. But for some reason, I feel afraid.”
“Afraid?”
I smiled at him weakly. Then I put my arms around him for comfort. “What if he is my father? I want to know, but then again, what will come of it? I don’t know this minute why I’m searching for someone who won’t automatically step forward and say, ‘Hey, I’m your father.’”
The door opened, a large bear of a man stood in front of us. He nodded at Grant. Then held out his hand to me.
“Maudie’s daughter.” His voice was soft, pleasant.
The Devil Has Dimples Page 8
