Stardust: A Novel

by Carla Stewart

  “Not my arms. My back.” She flopped over, and I reached across and ran whisper-light caresses on Avril’s back. Over the nape of her neck, slowly outlining first one shoulder blade, then the other, neither as big as a china saucer. The storm had calmed outside the window, drippy and no longer rattling the windows, but it left in its wake an empty spot. O’Dell had rubbed my back, too. Long strokes that eased away the weariness when I’d been up all night with Avril and her colic or the time Rosey had the big red measles and I didn’t sleep for a week. There was no doubt, O’Dell had his charms. If only he hadn’t felt compelled to share them with so many others. Maybe if I’d been a better wife…

  No use crying over spilt milk. Merciful and her momma had it right. The next morning brought sunshine. The air wrapped a muggy film around me the minute I hurried the girls out to the car. Beads of moisture collected on my face, and I wished for a breeze to blow through the open windows of O’Dell’s Ford as we drove toward the school. Instead, a swarm of gnats danced around my head. I waved them away, leaned over to give Rosey a kiss, and then watched as she skipped up the walk.

  Avril and I stopped for a donut and coffee for me, a carton of chocolate milk for her, and headed out to the Stardust. The rain had brought out the smell of mothballs and Paddy’s illness, which I’d hoped the new paint would take away. I went into our living quarters searching for the source of the odor. In the wardrobe Doreen had left behind, I found a box of partially dissolved mothballs tucked in the folds of an old quilt. I opened the windows to let the rooms air out, hoping the smell hadn’t permanently penetrated the walls and pine floors. The quilt, a heavy wool patchwork, was tied with embroidery thread. It looked like it still had some use as a picnic blanket, so when I tossed the mothballs in the trash barrel, I toted the quilt along and threw it over the clothesline.

  “C’mon, chipmunk,” I said to Avril, then stopped. I’d never called her that. Never. That was O’Dell’s name for her since her first baby teeth were two miniature Chiclets on top, tiny pearls that weren’t joined by any other teeth until she was thirteen months old. How and why chipmunk popped out of my mouth came from some part of me I didn’t know. Or trust.

  Avril, though, seemed not to notice, and followed me along the sidewalk as I went to check on the first cottage I hoped to paint. Every few yards, she sidestepped to stomp her feet in a rain puddle. She was singing the ABC song at the top of her lungs, and I joined her in the last line. “Now I’ve said my ABC’s. Tell me what you think of me.”

  I ruffled her head. “I think you’re the best Mommy’s helper in the world, and today we’re going to paint. What color should we use—the blue or the green in this cottage?”

  “Pink!” Avril wanted everything pink, and after giving her opinion took a giant leap to the left to jump in a puddle with both feet.

  I should have scolded her, but I was working the keys on the O-ring trying to find the one labeled number one. When I found the key and entered, my heart plummeted. A chunk of plaster the size of a washtub had fallen into the middle of the room—onto the mattress. A patch of blue sky peeked through the lath that once held the plaster in place.

  Avril stood in the doorway, her eyes as round as marbles. “Look at this mess, Mommy!”

  “Oh, my. You are right, my sweets. Just look.” I swallowed. Why hadn’t I had the roof checked? All of the roofs? Had the storm blown shingles off? I spun around and, with my Avril shadow behind me, went from cottage to cottage to assess the damage. Nothing as bad as in number one, but six and seven both had bulges overhead with water-stained edges.

  Immediate action was needed, but I didn’t know what to do first—clean up the plaster in cottage one or call a roofer. Surely someone at the lumberyard could point me in the right direction, and with the promised money from O’Dell’s found life insurance policy, I could get credit. The dollar signs mounted in my head. What if the insurance money wasn’t enough? What if I couldn’t afford to have the renovations done? Would I be breaking the terms of the will before I even moved into the Stardust’s quarters? My stomach gnawed with the truth that my inheritance from Paddy might not have been such a windfall as I’d expected. I didn’t blame Doreen for wanting to scoot on out as quick as possible.

  I grabbed Avril’s hand and marched toward the office to ponder the possibilities. Avril skipped beside me until we came to another puddle, then stretched to stamp her foot in it. Mud sprayed up on both of us.

  “Avie. Stop it! You’re making both of us a mess.”

  Her mouth drooped at the corners, her eyes bearing the same penitent look O’Dell had perfected when he didn’t make it home for dinner because the fish were biting. I squeezed her hand. “It’s all right, Avie. Mommy’s just being cranky.”

  She stuck out her bottom lip as we made our way to the office. As we neared, I looked up. On the porch, a woman whose girth could fill a doorway stood with hands on hips, feet planted wide apart, an unreadable expression on her ink-black face. When she saw us, she drew her hand to her forehead to shield the sun, as if she wanted a good look. And when we got there, she eyed me first, then Avril.

  I spoke first. “May I help you?”

  “Yes’m. Miss Do-reen said you’d signal when you be needing Ludi’s help.” Doreen was drawn out Dough-reen in a rich, full voice that vibrated the air between us.

  My mind clicked through the morning’s events. The mothballs. Throwing the quilt over the line. Then finding the hole in the roof. Worrying what I was going to do. Ludi. Yes. Yes! The colored woman who helped Doreen with the housekeeping.

  “You saw the old quilt on the clothesline. The signal, you say. As a matter of fact, I could use some help. Do you know how to get ahold of Ludi? Is that why you’ve come?”

  “Lawsy, missy, I am Ludi! In the flesh, ready to get to work.”

  “Oh, my. Then you know about Paddy?” I held out my hand. “I’m Georgia Peyton, the new owner of the Stardust. And this is Avril. Come in out of the sun so we can talk.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Miz Georgie. I’m pleased to meet you, though I been grieving a blue streak over Mr. Paddy’s expiration. I been on my knees a prayin’ someone like you be comin’ along.” She lumbered after me into the office, her hands worrying the apron she wore, an apron that carried the remnants of a half-dozen spatters of what looked like tomatoes, maybe a bit of gravy. Her hair, though, was pulled into a neat bun at the back of her head, and she smelled of wood smoke and earth and something faint but sweet. Her feet were stuffed into men’s black leather shoes, the laces missing, which allowed her beefy flesh room to breathe at the tops. I winced, thinking the shoes must be killing her feet. She seemed not to notice so I didn’t mention it.

  “So you’re Ludi. Ludi Harper, I believe.” Her nod told me I got it. “I’m not sure what your arrangement was with the Palmers or even what your duties were. I would guess general cleaning and keeping the cottages stocked with fresh towels, soap, clean linens.”

  “Yes’m. And running the washer machine, putting the sheets through the ironing press, whatever the missus needed, that’s what I do.”

  “Well, I’m temporarily closed, trying to get some remodeling done. Cleaning so the girls and I can move in.” I pointed to Avril. “She’s my baby, but I have another girl in school. Rosey.”

  Avril had been walking around Ludi since we’d come inside, and I hoped she didn’t say something embarrassing like she had with Mr. Baxter about the twitching jaw. Instead, she put her hand in Ludi’s and smiled. “I like you. You look like Rae Rae’s Tansy. She’s got a big lap like you do.”

  Ludi cupped Avril’s chin in her ample hands, the thick fingers as gentle as her smile. “You know Tansy, do you? Why, she be my niece who work over to the Cotton house.”

  “Rae Rae say Tansy is the bestest samwich maker in Mayhaw.” Avril’s voice had taken on the same inflection as Ludi’s, and I was at once relieved. I’d always thought children were good people barometers, and Avril had admiration shining in her eyes for Ludi alre
ady. “Can you come over when we get our furniture and let me sit in your lap?”

  “We best be leaving that up to your momma.”

  Of course, I agreed. Not to her being a maid or cook for us personally. Heavens, the kitchen in our quarters was the size of a matchbox. But helping with the Stardust, certainly.

  Ludi smiled a wide, toothy smile. “What we need to do to move things along, Miz Georgie?”

  “I don’t even know where to start. I wanted to paint and freshen things…” A sick feeling came in my gut when I remembered the plaster in cottage one, but Ludi had her eyes locked on mine, saying hmmm, hmmm, and nodding her head while not saying anything.

  The next thing I knew, I was blubbering about the ceiling falling in, and not knowing who to call, and then Ludi’s strong arm was around my shoulder, her hand patting the back of my head as she told me, “It’s all right, sweetum. I knowed these cabins was a fixin’ to cave in one of these times. I kept a telling the man, and he was fixin’ to have some work done. Poor fella took the cancer, and now you be in a fine pickle.”

  My face flamed at my lack of composure in front of a stranger, but she summed it up—I was in a fine pickle.

  “I’m sorry, Ludi.” I straightened, ran my hands down the tail of one of O’Dell’s old shirts that I’d started wearing to paint in, and said, “I don’t know what came over me. The last few weeks have been such a mess. First, my husband drowning, then Paddy, and now trying to do all this work…”

  “It can wear a body down fo’ sure.” She gave me another soft pat and grew quiet. Took a half step away from me. “You say your husband drowned? That be a while back?”

  “Yes, someone found him over where you live. I’m sure it was the talk of all of Zion.”

  “You be gotten that straight. ’Twas my boy Catfish what found him washed up.” Her head went side to side. “I sho’nuf didn’t know it was your man. Bless you, child.”

  My hand flew to my chest as I sucked in a bucketful of air. Catfish. The child, Merciful, had mentioned he was her brother. Ludi’s boy found O’Dell? I couldn’t think of anything to say. We stood silent, facing each other, not quite knowing what to do next. I had a million questions, yet my tongue couldn’t form a single one. The business of death is not a subject to broach like picking out the color of paint for a rotted-out cottage.

  That poor child. He must’ve been scared half to death himself.

  Ludi opened her arms, and a mysterious force pulled me in. I breathed her scent, woodsy and musky from the day’s heat no doubt, but also a hint of jasmine, and I wondered where on earth Ludi got her hands on such a delicate fragrance. I buried my face in her shoulder and let her ample arms hold me. If I could have, I would have curled into her lap.

  [ CHAPTER 12 ]

  A week and a half later, I had put my house on Crockett Street up for sale and filed the papers to get O’Dell’s insurance money. The girls and I moved into the Stardust on the first of May—my twenty-fifth birthday. Aunt Cora brought a chocolate cake by the house that morning and saw Doreen’s friends from the Methodist church loading my furniture into their pickup trucks.

  She sniffed. “I’m still appalled that you’re going through with this.”

  I took the cake. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see. And you’re welcome to come out anytime.”

  She shot me a look that said I’d better not push my luck, then in the next instant, she hugged my neck and wished me happy birthday.

  The girls and I settled into the quarters, and blessedly, with Ludi’s help, the work was coming along on the Stardust. Each morning got rolling when I heard the first faint strains of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” Ludi’s deep, throaty voice came like honey across the open meadow that separated her world from mine.

  Avril raced out to meet Ludi whenever she heard the singing and met her with open arms. “Where’s Merciful? Is she coming today? C’mon, I want to show you something.” And Avril would pull Ludi’s arm—or Merciful’s, if she was tagging along—to show her the latest treasure. Sometimes a pretty rock she found in the flower bed. Sometimes a picture she colored. Then we would have to tell Avril we had work to do. Rosey had school until the last Friday in May and now rode the bus to and fro. Every morning she marched off swinging her satchel, waving good-bye, and smiling.

  With the girls happy and Ludi coming to help, I knew I should be grateful. And more patient. But the Memorial Day deadline loomed and it looked like we’d never be ready. Ludi and I didn’t have enough hours between us to paint and clean and do all the other projects. We had a sum total of three finished, and they still needed new bathroom fixtures.

  The roof replacement was another issue gnawing at me. I’d been to the lumberyard and got someone to come out and cover the leaking roofs with tarps held in place with old tires until a roofer was available to do the shingles. “Three weeks, at least,” Mr. Miller informed me.

  “Can you recommend anyone else?”

  “Not likely you’d find a roofer in Mayhaw that we don’t already employ. You might try over in Jefferson or Longview, but they won’t carry an out-of-town account, and you never know the kind of work you’re getting from a stranger.”

  I’d called back a week later and he’d told me the rain we had over the weekend meant it was still three weeks before they could get to it. Drat. I let the receiver drop in the phone cradle and kicked the stack of boxes that held new faucets for the bathrooms. They were to be installed by one of the Methodist men who was a plumber, but he’d been called out of town—to see about his sister in Shreveport who’d come down with infantile paralysis. Granted, I admired a man who made family matters a priority, but it didn’t help my frustration.

  When I called Sally complaining, she told me to relax and breathe. “Don’t lose your focus, Georgia.”

  “How can I relax and not lose my focus at the same time? That makes no sense whatsoever.”

  “Try focusing on the ultimate outcome and relax. Take one day at a time. And I’m simply dying to show you the plans the Magnolias have drawn up. They’re splendid. If you don’t mind, I’ll bring them by later and see what you think.”

  “You may find me on the roof hammering on the shingles myself.”

  She laughed and hung up.

  Deep down, I knew it was that I didn’t want to disappoint Doreen and miss the opening deadline. Plus I was going through O’Dell’s anticipated insurance money faster than water swept through Hixon Bayou in the rainy season. Mattresses. Paint. Lumber for new window boxes.

  I went to check on Ludi, who was patching a hole in the wall of number eight. She had plaster blobs in her hair and a smudge across her cheek, but she was humming “Amazing Grace” as she worked.

  “Here, Ludi. I brought you some sweet tea.” I set the glass down on the windowsill and watched her scoop up a trowel of plaster from the bucket we’d mixed that morning and then slap it on the wall. She smoothed it out in sure, even strokes like a painter at an easel. Sweat ran down the sides of her face, along the fleshy part of her neck, pooling in the soft spot at the base of her throat. She nodded at me and kept humming until the wall was as smooth as a sheet of glass. She set the trowel down and swiped her forearm across her brow. I handed her the tea.

  “Thanks, Miz Georgie. I ain’t never been treated like no queen before, and here you are, fetching me stuff and bringing me sweet tea.” She chugged half a glass. “I’m mighty appreciative.”

  “No problem. I just came to see how you were doing.”

  She eyed her work. “Hmm. Never thought these clumsy fingers could do such a thing.” She gave a hearty laugh, finished the tea, and handed me the empty glass. “You’s a blessing to me, child. Don’t you be forgettin’ it.”

  “I’d say it’s the other way around. I’ll check on you later.”

  As I headed to the office, Avril met me on the sidewalk.

  “Hey, Mommy, there’s a man wants to see you.” She pointed a pudgy finger toward the office.

  “A
man? Who is it?” I hoped to goodness gracious it was Mr. Miller from the lumberyard bringing me good news.

  “Dunno. He said he’s looking for the manager.”

  “Did he say what for?”

  She pulled her shoulders up toward her ears, her chocolate eyes wide, innocent.

  When we got to the office, a fair-headed man stood tall, hands holding a straw hat before him. His face was tanned and smooth except for a pale hat line on his forehead, and I guessed him to be close to thirty. Sitting beside him was a black-and-white dog, a long-haired spaniel or bird dog of some kind, its tail swooshing like a windshield wiper along the bottom step of the porch.

  “Yes, sir, may I help you?”

  “Certainly hope so. I didn’t mean to scare your little girl.” He extended his hand, clean with calluses worn smooth, his shake firm when I obliged.

  Avril gripped my leg with both arms.

  “I’m sorry if you’re looking for a place to stay. We’re closed until Memorial Day.”

  “That’s what Cecil across the way told me. Said you’re doing some remodeling and might could use a hand.”

  “Cecil a friend of yours?” I couldn’t remember seeing this particular man before, and he drew his words out different from the way we did in East Texas. Softer, but a definite drawl.

  “No, ma’am. I was passing through on my way to San Antonio when my car broke down. Lucky for me I was only down the road a piece and found the repair shop here at the edge of town.”

  “If you’re passing through, why are you looking for work?” The dog lifted its chin, a long red tongue reaching out to lick the man’s hand.

  The stranger looked away for an instant, and I couldn’t tell if he was shy or trying to come up with a believable story, but then he looked square at me and said, “Fact is, I’m a little low on cash. I don’t have enough to pay to get the car repaired, and bein’s mechanics is one skill they didn’t teach me in the army, I got no business fixing it on my own.”