Stardust: A Novel

by Carla Stewart

  Goose bumps prickled my arms and legs. His voice, deep and clear, sang an old sweet song. Georgia. Georgia on my mind. A lump filled my throat, and I let my tear-filled eyes wander to Catfish, who’d flipped over on his back and rubbed a cypress knee like it was a worry stone. My heart swelled as Peter’s voice faded with the last strains.

  Our eyes met, and silence, like a breath held, hung in the air. Stars twinkled overhead, a sliver of moon peeking through the leaves of the sycamores. The dying embers of the fire turned from orange to red like a living molten lava. A stick of wood burned thoroughly to ash broke in half, sending up a spray of red-hot sparks.

  Shivers tracked the length of my spine.

  [ CHAPTER 27 ]

  While I was catching up on my book work, Sheriff Bolander appeared at the office door, one hand twisting the knob, the other hitching up his britches.

  “Georgia, you got a minute?”

  “Certainly. Come in.” A warning buzz started in my stomach and fanned quickly to my arms and legs. I put the books in the drawer and locked it, then turned my attention to Sonny.

  Sweat beaded up on his forehead under the brim of his Stetson. Fiona. Something’s happened. I crossed my bare arms to rub the tingles from them. “What’s on your mind?”

  “If I had a nickel for everything that’s crossed my mind the last three days, I’d be headed to Florida to retire in luxury. We’ve got us a situation.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Aside from all the people you’ve riled in this town, there’ve been other developments.”

  “Well, tell me straight then.”

  “If I only knew where to start.”

  For a moment I felt sorry for him, that what he was fixing to tell me hurt him, too. I took a deep breath. “Is it Fiona? Is she going to be okay?”

  “Last I heard she was in an iron lung, unable to breathe on her own. They put one of those holes in her throat. Tracheotomy, I think they call it. Said she couldn’t swallow and was drowning in her own spit. Worse case they’ve seen in Tyler. So no one knows if she’ll be okay or not. My guess is not. Which leads to another thing. The kid.”

  “Bonnie. Her name is Bonnie.”

  “Yeah, we might’ve made a connection to her relations. Them dog tags in Fiona’s purse belonged to her husband, Rusty Callahan. He died three weeks after he arrived in Korea. I reckon when they sent him home, she was given the tags. The burial was in Green Oak, Arkansas. I’m waiting on a call to find out if anyone from there might take the girl in.”

  “Bonnie said she had an aunt Teddy. What if they can’t take her? Are there other options?”

  “Temporary custody in one of the church orphanages is the best bet, but I doubt they’d be too keen on taking her with the polio thing—too much risk of starting an epidemic.”

  He leaned against the doorjamb and swiped his free arm across his forehead. “There’s one other thing…”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We found photographs in Mrs. Callahan’s purse. A soldier in one of them. And another one…”

  I knew what was coming. The picture with O’Dell that confirmed his association with Fiona. Although it still stung, there was nothing I could do so I told the sheriff Peter had told me about the snapshot. “Was the man in the photo O’Dell?”

  “I’m sorry to say, but yes, it was. I didn’t let on to your Peter Reese. Thought it best to check out the evidence before I broke the news to you.”

  “There’s no need to spare my feelings. I’m coming to terms with the fact he was a lousy husband.”

  “So you knew about this Fiona, and you still let her stay here?”

  “I didn’t know her name when she checked in. She was ill, and I didn’t look at the guest register until later. I recognized her name from the life insurance policy O’Dell had in his briefcase. I’m surprised you didn’t find it when you investigated O’Dell’s death, but it doesn’t matter now. I think she probably knew he lived here and came to find out why he hadn’t been to visit her.”

  “Sounds logical. You say she was from Kilgore, but we’ve not been able to locate where. They’ve been hit harder with polio than we have. She was probably infected when she showed up here.”

  “So… about Bonnie, I see no harm in her staying here for a while. Maybe you’ll hear something soon.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Thanks. One other thing.” The sweat now ran in rivulets from his brow. Either this was some terrible news or Sonny Bolander himself was coming down with something. I let him sweat it out.

  He cleared his throat. “Here’s the deal. I’ve had a lot of calls. People are on edge. You might get some phone calls of your own, maybe even nasty letters.”

  My stomach felt as if I’d been punched. Heat rose to my cheeks, sweat beads forming on my own forehead. “Because of one case of polio?”

  “People go nuts over things like this. Just wanted to warn you. I wouldn’t expect too much business if I were you.”

  “Surely, in a week or two, the panic will die down and people will start to trickle in.”

  “The deal is, I might still have to shut you down. I have a whole town to answer to, not just a handful of misfits like you have staying here.”

  “Misfits? Who are you calling misfits?”

  “Just saying. And I wouldn’t recommend taking the Callahan girl off the premises for the time being. That’s what’s got most people riled.”

  “What do they think? She’s a monster?”

  “I’m sorry. But not half as sorry as you’ll be if we get an outbreak here in Mayhaw, and I have to shut you down.”

  He tipped his hat and ambled out the door.

  I clenched my fists and wanted to spit. Instead, I sank into the rocking chair, pulled my knees up to my chest, and let its back-and-forth rhythm lull me. All this work and money down the drain. Even from the grave, O’Dell and his philandering had reached out to hurt me.

  While I rocked, I realized Sonny Bolander hadn’t said anything about an investigation from the health department. No one had been in the cottage since they’d taken Fiona away. Was the cottage a breeding ground for disease? Ludi had the day off since we were low on guests, but I felt the urge to do something. Peter might have a suggestion, but he’d gone fishing with Mr. Overstreet, and Mary Frances slept most days until noon, so I had the day to figure it out for myself.

  I checked on the girls and found Rosey delighted to have two “students” to teach. As I watched their innocent fun, the sick feeling I’d had all weekend worked its way into my throat. We were all at risk. More so with the infected cottage right under our noses. Cleaning it would at least give me the satisfaction that I’d tried. I told the girls I had work to do and got their promise to stay inside until I came back.

  My arms tingled with dread as I took the key to Fiona’s cottage and marched over there. Inside, the room smelled dank. Was this the smell of polio?

  The crippler could be lurking right now, clinging to the walls, multiplying unseen until it wrapped its arm around one of us.

  Holding my breath, I stripped the bed first and piled the covers by the door. I stepped outside and gasped, inhaling buckets of clean air. Then I went back in, tossed a throw rug and towels on top of the linens, and looked around. Washing just the linens wouldn’t be enough. I eyed the pleated lamp shade. The folds were the perfect place for germs to hide. I yanked the lamp from the socket and added it to the pile. I groaned when I looked at the mattress. Fiona had lain on it, I was sure. I would worry about it later.

  My muscles quivered as I threw more things on the pile. I looked over my shoulder, thinking I’d seen a shadow. Calm down. Outside for another fresh breath. My lack of oxygen was making me see and imagine things. But I wasn’t imagining the sour spot in my stomach. The revulsion. And anger.

  Polio would not get the best of me. Just because I’d let O’Dell make a fool of me with Fiona didn’t mean I
would give up now.

  A pillow I hadn’t seen in the corner mocked me. I grabbed it and threw it atop the other contaminated items.

  What now? Disinfectant for sure, but I could pour a washtub full of Clorox on every surface Fiona had touched and it wouldn’t be enough.

  I stomped to the washhouse, my blood pumping in my ears. Would boiling kill it? Standing on the concrete floor, I eyed the shelves, hoping the answer would jump off and land at my feet. That’s when I saw a box of matches. The ones we used to light the hot water pilot. I grabbed them and went to the barbecue pit. The ashes from the fish fry lay lifeless, dull below the grate.

  Two or three logs and some kindling would be enough to get a fire going. In minutes, a healthy flame flared. Yes! I sprinted back to the cottage and scooped up an armload of linens. My heart pounded, but I didn’t dare breathe in the germs.

  Throwing everything on at once would snuff out the fire, so I dropped the pile and hurled one item at a time, waiting until it caught fire before I added the next. Ugly yellow flames devoured sheets, pillows, towels. The stench of burning goose feathers from the pillows filled the air, stinging my nostrils, smarting my eyes. Each item I threw in gave me more satisfaction. Black clouds of smoke boiled out the top of the fire pit’s stonework. I held one arm over my face and used the other to slam a lamp onto the fire. It hissed and cackled as perverse pleasure rippled through me. I charged back to Fiona’s cottage and ripped the curtains from the windows.

  I pitched them into the fire and crossed my arms. Flames licked the fabric, which sent up a shroud of black smoke. When every last shred had been thrown in, I sat down and watched it burn. Belching noises came with the snaps. I hugged my knees to my chest and buried my face in them.

  You can’t hurt me anymore, O’Dell Peyton.

  I coughed from the smoke and stench until tears sprang from my eyes. Bile came in my mouth. I leaned over as vomit poured out. Another fit of coughing came, and I struggled to breathe. Heat raged through my body, my skin scorched.

  Shouting came from behind me. Strong hands reached under my arms and pulled me back.

  “Georgia! Can you hear me?”

  Peter’s voice. Other voices. I closed my eyes and drifted off.

  [ CHAPTER 28 ]

  Long coils of auburn hair fell to the floor as Ludi snipped and clipped around my head, getting rid of the singed curls. It was the final act of cleaning me up after she’d put herself in charge. She’d seen the smoke, as had Peter and Malcolm Overstreet, and had come to see what was burning. While I wasn’t burned and didn’t even know my hair was singed, I’d been almost delirious, coughing, filthy, a mess inside and out. She hustled me over to the washhouse, stripped off my clothes, and wrapped me in a sheet to take me to the shower in the quarters. A good scrubbing had worked wonders.

  My face flamed, not with heat from the fire, but embarrassment. What had come over me? Had I finally cracked under the pressure? I’d been so consumed with proving myself that I feared I’d gone overboard with cleansing the cottage and our lives. I wasn’t entirely sorry. I had rid the cottage of the germs, but in my zeal I’d not protected myself from the smoke. My throat still felt dry and scratchy.

  Ludi stood with hands on her hips. “That’s the best I can do. You want to see for yo’self what I done?”

  I went to the small oval mirror over my dresser, shocked at the difference in my appearance. “I’ve never had short hair.” I turned to the side to get a better look at the bob I now sported. “You know, this might be just what I needed. A new look. You did fine.”

  “It ain’t your hair what worries me. You best be watching that cough.”

  “I’ll be fine. How about one last thing? Get me the green sundress from my closet. Just because we have no customers doesn’t mean I can’t look nice. And while you’re at it, pull all of those men’s shirts off the hangers and take that grocery sack with O’Dell’s shoes. I won’t be needing them anymore, and maybe someone in Zion can use them.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.” I took the dress she handed me, slipped it on, and let her zip me.

  “Mr. Peter been hanging out in the front. Says he wants a word with you.”

  “Thanks, Ludi. For everything.”

  She started out, lugging O’Dell’s things, then stopped. “Miz Georgie, I ain’t one to interfere, but I been thinkin’. Ever since I first laid eyes on you, you’ve had the determination. You fixed up the cottages. You always tryin’ to make people happy. You took us to your bosom. I ’preciate that so don’t take what I be fixin’ to say the wrong way.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “Well, I think there comes a time you got to quit strivin’ and let the Lord take over. You been a pushin’ and strivin’ like a crazy woman. You cain’t stop the polio no more than you can stop the sun shinin’ in the sky.”

  “Is that what you think I was doing by burning all that stuff?”

  She nodded. “You ever think God mighta had a higher purpose for bringing that woman and her little girl to your place?”

  “Destroying my business doesn’t seem like a higher purpose. And I’m not sure if you know this, but Fiona Callahan was my dead husband’s mistress. It wouldn’t surprise me if the baby she’s carrying is his. Not that the poor babe has a chance with Fiona so sick, but her coming here was nothing but a reminder of the bitterness of my failed marriage.”

  “I din’t know she was your man’s mistress, but it goes to show what I was tryin’ to tell you. We’s all connected one way or another. And it’s the good Lord who do the connectin’. You be thinking on that.”

  “I will. I promise.” I held up two pairs of earrings. “Which ones do you think look better with this dress?”

  She pointed to the gold dangling ones set with green rhinestones. “Thanks, Ludi. Good choice.”

  I clipped the earrings on and went to find Peter.

  He and Rosey were bent over a checkerboard in the office and both greeted me when I entered.

  “Momma! What happened to your hair?”

  “Ludi cut it. What do you think?”

  “I like it. Look, Peter’s teaching me checkers. I beat him the last game.”

  Peter smiled, surveying my hair, and I was certain it was approval I saw in his eyes. “She’s a quick learner.”

  “That, or you’re a great teacher. Where are Avril and Bonnie?”

  Rosey made a move and said, “MeMaw came and got them. Mr. Overstreet took them all to town so MeMaw could go to the drugstore.”

  A brief moment of panic went through me. The sheriff had told me not to take Bonnie around town. I only hoped no one saw her and put together that she was the child from the Stardust. I thought of Ludi’s warning to quit striving. I couldn’t change it, so I might as well not worry. I watched Peter and Rosey play, then offered to fix lunch.

  In his weeks at the Stardust, Peter hadn’t eaten in our quarters with us. I’d always made him a plate or given him a sandwich. I invited him and Rosey into the kitchen to finish their game as I put together tuna salad. A short time later, while we ate, I told them Sheriff Bolander thought business might be slow for a while.

  Peter took a drink of iced tea. “Was he the one who suggested you burn the things from the cottage?”

  A slight flush crept up my neck. “No, that was all my harebrained idea. My way of lashing out at polio. I must admit I got carried away.”

  “Guess you didn’t plan on getting a new hairdo out of the deal.” He cocked his head and looked at me. “You ask me, it looks nice.”

  “Thanks. And if business slacks off, I’ll have to figure out another way to make do. I don’t even want to think of what will happen if he shuts us down.”

  “I’ve had time to think, too. I think I’ll head over to the lumber mill this afternoon and see if I can’t get on there. I’d still have time to do odd jobs around here in the evenings. Rosey here thinks a swing set would be mighty fine.”

  “I won’t h
ave money to invest in that.”

  “It’s all right. I think I can manage.”

  Maybe Ludi was right. My striving had taken its toll. The idea that God was in control gave me a warm feeling.

  The feeling lasted less than a minute. Before I had time to clear the table, Sheriff Bolander was on the phone yelling at me for allowing Mary Frances to take Bonnie downtown.

  “Honest, Sheriff, they left while I was doing something else… before I had a chance to discuss it with Mary Frances. I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Darn straight you will, or I’m shutting you down. Maybe even put you on quarantine. I’ve already had three phone calls.”

  “Anything new to report on Bonnie’s aunt?”

  “It’s only been four hours since I talked to you.”

  “Just wondering.”

  “Perhaps you need to spend less time wondering and pay more attention to what goes on out there.”

  “Thanks for calling.”

  [ CHAPTER 29 ]

  Peter started working at the lumber mill the following Monday, “getting out of our hair,” he said. But it was excitement that shone on his face when he picked up the lunch I promised to have ready.

  Ludi spent two full days scrubbing Fiona’s cottage with Clorox. One morning, having run out of things to do, she reorganized the washhouse. After lunch, I sat with her on the back steps sipping sweet tea and fanning away the heat. When she’d cooled off, she mentioned Fiona’s car.

  “My man said he be lookin’ up and down the bayou for it, tracin’ every place it might have run off the road. Nothin’. He says it wouldn’t be the first vehicle swallowed by the bayou. Place or two is mighty deep.”

  “I was hoping it might give us some clues. Registration papers or some of their belongings. Tell Mr. Harper I appreciate his looking.”

  She nodded and we got to work, falling into our own rhythms. When I wasn’t busy with the girls, I devoured the infantile paralysis section in The Book of Knowledge. I knew every symptom by heart, observing the girls for the slightest bit of headache or fever and secretly did the chin touch myself. No one was immune. And no one could predict who the next victim would be.