The Book of Bright Ideas Page 21

  Aunt Verdella got so happy about Ma saying yes that she shot up and gave her a quick hug. I was so happy that I tagged right after Aunt Verdella and gave Ma a hug too. I also gave thanks in my head to Tommy for not being a rat fink and tattling on Winnalee and me running off, like I worried he might (that is, until I saw him around Freeda two days after we’d gone to the beck and saw the way he couldn’t look her in the eye and the way his cheeks burned like fire had started under his skin), or there was no way Ma would have said yes.

  I walked Aunt Verdella to the car, and she chattered the whole way about our trip to Hopested. “I’m gonna ask your uncle Rudy to drive us there first thing Monday morning,” she said. She clapped her hands together and looked up. “Oh, Button, Winnalee is gonna be so happy!”

  I bounced more than I walked back to the house. Ma was still putting away groceries. “There you are. Verdella gone?” I nodded. “I can’t believe I was gone this long. Freeda and I were only going to grab coffee, then get some groceries, but we ended up in Witmeir’s Shoe Store instead. Good heavens, we’ve not done a thorough job on our housecleaning in about a month. Give me a hand, Evelyn, and we’ll get at least some things done before your dad gets home.”

  “Where’s Daddy?” I asked, just because I wanted to know how long we had to clean.

  “He’s over helping your uncle Rudy put a new hitch on the cattle wagon. Rudy’s going to deliver a bull over to a farmer in Tomahawk on Monday.”

  “He’ll be gone all day, then?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Well, Aunt Verdella was going to ask him to drive us on Monday.”

  “Oh well, she’ll have to wait till later in the week then, I guess.”

  But we didn’t have to wait. Aunt Verdella came Sunday morning right after breakfast. “Yoo-hoo!” she called. I expected her voice to sound all droopy, but it didn’t.

  “Well, Jewel,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made a decision. Since Rudy can’t drive me to Hopested tomorrow, I’ve decided to drive myself. I hope you’ll still let Button go.”

  “Yourself? Why don’t you just wait until later in the week, Verdella?”

  “The Smithys are going on a fishing trip to Canada, so Tommy will be gone all this week and part of the next. Rudy couldn’t leave then, because he’d have no one to do the milking, with Reece puttin’ in so much overtime. I decided that I don’t want to wait till next week, so I asked Fanny Tilman to fill in for Ada, and I told Rudy I’m driving myself.”

  “Verdella, you never drive long distances alone, and you never drive on the highway. You try making a trip like this one on only back roads and it will take you forever!”

  “You’re right. I’ve not driven anywhere but to town and back, or to the sale, since we got married. And I never take the highways. Some days it’s hard enough to make myself even do that much, because I get so nervous behind the wheel that to drive for more than a half an hour just ties me in knots. But it’s about time I stop being so timid and just take the bull by the horns and go.”

  “And Rudy’s okay with this?” Ma asked.

  “Well, I don’t think he was keen on the idea at first, but all he said was, ‘If that’s what you think you should do, Verdie, then that’s what you should do.’ He outlined my route on the map for me. I think I can find my way, and, well, if I get lost, all I have to do is stop at a station and ask for directions. Freeda’s right. I’ve lived long enough being scared of causing more harm if I’m behind the wheel, and the only way I’m gonna get over it is to prove to myself that I won’t. I don’t know why, but I feel like if I do this trip and get back here safely, maybe I’ll be able to let go of that old fear. I’ll admit to you, Jewel, that at first I thought maybe I should go alone, because I got to thinking, ‘what if…’ but then I stopped myself. Anyway, I sure would appreciate it if you’d still let Button go. I plan to stay the night in Hopested before heading back, since my night vision isn’t good. And as you know, I’ll take good care of Button.”

  I bit my cheek while I waited for Ma to answer, then grinned as big as my mouth would stretch when she said I could go.

  Monday morning Ma took me to Aunt Verdella’s before the sun had even peeked its sleepy head above the treetops. She said she had some extra work to do at Dr. Wagner’s office, so she didn’t mind dropping me off at that hour.

  I didn’t expect to see Winnalee, since it was so early, but the second Ma stopped the car, the screen door across the road slammed and Winnalee came across the yard. She was wearing her dancing costume again, the pink skirt sticking out straight at the sides, and she had a rope tied around her waist, holding our Book of Bright Ideas like a holster.

  I was carrying my little red suitcase with one change of shorts and a shirt, my baby doll pajamas, and an extra pair of socks and underwear. I had my jacket slung over my arm, in case it got chilly at night. “What do you got in there?” Winnalee asked, her breath blowy from running to get to our car. Her morning hair had a big snarl in it—or a “snot,” as Freeda called those chunks of bunched-up hair that were half snarls and half knots. “And why you so early?”

  I didn’t know what to say, on account of I didn’t know what fib we were planning to tell Winnalee. Lucky for me, Aunt Verdella hurried out of the house just then. She had on her best everyday dress, sky blue with white eyelet trim, and her white shoes. Her purse, which was slung over the crook of her arm, bumped against her fat part as she jogged to the car. She rapped on Ma’s window, so Ma rolled it down. “Well, everything’s set, Jewel. We’ll be back sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Hey, where you going?” Winnalee asked.

  Aunt Verdella’s voice was high and squeaky like Minnie Mouse’s when she answered. “Well, I have to do a favor for a friend in another town. It’s a long drive, so we’ll be gone overnight. I have to take Button with me, because Jewel’s gotta work today.” I could tell by the way Aunt Verdella said it that she’d practiced those words just about as hard as she must have practiced that poem by the Yeats guy.

  “She could stay at my house,” Winnalee said. I felt sorry for Winnalee then. Standing there with her ma in her arms, looking lonely at the thought of her best friend being gone so long and her not being able to go with.

  “Well, uh, my friend wants to see Button, because she remembers her as a baby.”

  Winnalee looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “If Button has to go, then can I go too, even if your friend didn’t know me when I was a baby?”

  “Well…you see, honey…um, I’ve got to cart her kids over to her sister’s place. And there’s a lot of them. So many that there’ll hardly even be room in the car for me and Button.”

  “There’d be more room if Button stayed by me. It’s Monday, so Freeda don’t work.” Winnalee looked down until all you could see of her eyes were long eyelashes curling against her cheeks.

  Aunt Verdella put her arm around Winnalee. I could see by her face that she’d run clear out of fibs. “Button, would you and Winnalee please go into Auntie’s house and see if I left my car keys on the table?”

  “They’re right in your hand, Aunt Verdella,” Winnalee said.

  “Oh, I meant Auntie’s sweater. It should be right on the back of the kitchen chair. It’s white.”

  I knew Aunt Verdella wanted us to get lost so she could ask Ma what she thought of her taking Winnalee along. As we were walking up the porch steps, I saw Ma shake her head.

  When we got back to the car with Aunt Verdella’s sweater, Ma was about ready to leave. I expected her to just say bye to me and tell me to be good and stay clean, but she didn’t. Instead, she opened the car door and stepped out, then gave me a hug. It wasn’t the warm, squishy kind of hug that almost hurts because it’s so big, like Aunt Verdella always gave, but more like one of those whispery hugs like cousins who don’t really know each other well give when their mas tell them to hug good-bye. But still, it made me happy inside. “Have fun, you two,” she said.

  After M
a pulled out, Aunt Verdella put her hand on Winnalee’s shoulder and bent over so she could look her right in the eyes. “Honey, I know you don’t understand why Auntie isn’t taking you along or leaving Button here. I’m sorry, sweetie, but I can’t explain any more right now. But when we get back, Auntie will bring you a big surprise, okay? A really, really special surprise.”

  Winnalee’s eyes were already leaking, but when she realized that Aunt Verdella wasn’t going to change her mind, big tears started rolling down her apple cheeks. One fell right on her ma’s jar and slipped down the side. I felt like crying too. I knew why Aunt Verdella didn’t change her mind, but at that minute I wanted her to.

  Uncle Rudy came out of the house then, the screen door slamming behind him. He had a toothpick sticking out of the side of his mouth. He watched Winnalee walking toward home.

  “Oh, Rudy. She feels so bad not being able to go with us. But how can I take her? It would ruin the surprise. And like Jewel said, it would be better with just one, since Winnalee is bound to get restless on such a long trip.”

  “She’ll be fine, Verdie.”

  Uncle Rudy opened the car door and yanked the lever to open the hood. “I’m gonna check the oil before you go,” he said.

  “Rudy, you checked it yesterday!” Aunt Verdella shook her head.

  “I wish you were waiting until I could drive you over there, Verdie. You sure you can’t wait just three, four more days?”

  “Oh, Rudy. We’ve waited long enough! And we’ll be fine.”

  “You got the map I marked for you?” he asked, as he wiped the long dipper stick clean with an old rag he took from his back pocket.

  “I got the map. Button’s gonna help me navigate. And if I get lost, I’ll just stop and ask somebody.”

  “I remember what you said, Uncle Rudy,” I told him. “We take Highway 8 west for about four hours. Then we’re gonna come to Minnesota and cross the St. Croix River at St. Croix Falls. And once we cross the river, we’re gonna run into Highway 85—no, Highway 95, and then go on Highway 23, which comes like a split in the road. Then we’re gonna drive about fifty miles.”

  “Well, what on earth was I worrying about, with this little smarty going along,” he said.

  “Wait,” I said. “And I remember this part too. We’re supposed to stop at that Barren town, and at St. Croix Falls to get gas on the way there and the way back. I remember how it looks on the map too.”

  Uncle Rudy was so proud of me for remembering everything he said that he gave me a teeth-speckled-with-snuff smile. And after he slipped the dipper stick back in the car and slammed the hood down, he patted my head at least ten extra times.

  “You drive carefully now, Verdie. And you call Jewel at work, or at home, if there’s any problems.”

  “There’s not gonna be any problems,” Aunt Verdella said. “Now, give me a hug good-bye and stop that fussin’. And your food is in the roaster in the fridge. You have sandwiches for lunch today and tomorrow and the pot roast and vegetables in the roaster for supper tonight, and for tomorrow night if you’re hungry before I get home. I put heating instructions on the fridge door. And there’s ice cream in the freezer for your pie too.”

  “Hear that, Knucklehead?” he said. “We’re gonna eat like kings.”

  “Rudy Peters, don’t you dare let that dog eat out of my dishes. You hear?”

  Aunt Verdella grabbed him and gave him about a million kisses and then a big squeeze. Uncle Rudy opened her door and patted my shoulder as I climbed in. Then he picked up Aunt Verdella’s suitcase and put it into the backseat. “You have the phone number of the funeral home that’s going to make the arrangements, Verdie?” he asked.

  “It’s right here,” Aunt Verdella said, patting her purse. “I swear, Rudy, you’re soundin’ just like me now!” She ha-ha-ed.

  I scooted over to make room for Aunt Verdella. Uncle Rudy shut her door, then patted the hood of the car. He stepped back and started waving us on, like he always did when Aunt Verdella backed out.

  “Stop! Wait!” came Winnalee’s voice, then Uncle Rudy’s, saying the same thing.

  Aunt Verdella started shaking when she saw Winnalee’s face right outside her side window.

  “Honey, never, ever run up to a moving car like that. Oh good Lord, you scared Auntie about half to death!” Aunt Verdella dabbed at the little dots of scared that suddenly wet the skin above her lip.

  “Sorry,” Winnalee said. “But I wanted to give Button this.” She slipped our book out from her rope belt and poked it through the car window.

  “Why you want me to take it along?” I asked.

  “Because when you go places, you find lots of bright ideas. If we don’t get busy, we’ll never reach one hundred by the time summer’s over.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  Once Aunt Verdella got the car twisted onto Peters Road, we waved to Uncle Rudy and Winnalee, who stood in the yard waving back at us, Uncle Rudy’s arm on Winnalee’s shoulder.

  “Oh, I’m so glad she got done cryin’. I couldn’t bear the thought of keeping that sad face in my mind all the way there and back. But you just wait, Button. When we come back and tell that little girl what we’ve done, she’s gonna be so happy that she’ll forget all about how sad she was when we left.”

  I tucked the book on the seat between us and unwrapped the map and laid it across my legs. I traced the route with my finger, paying special attention to the numbers alongside of the lines that drawed the roads. Uncle Rudy told me that while we were driving, I’d see those same numbers on the road signs, and I was to help Aunt Verdella look for them.

  It was a hot, sunny day, so we drove with our windows rolled down and let the wind swirl inside. I folded the map, which flapped from the wind, and tucked it under my leg. Once we left Dauber, Aunt Verdella said that we’d be driving on that same highway a long time, so I didn’t need to keep watching the map. Then Aunt Verdella and I munched cookies and sang “You Are My Sunshine,” about twenty times, because that was her favorite song. After we stopped singing it, Aunt Verdella reached over and patted my bare knee. “You’re my little sunshine,” she said. And I told her, “You’re my big sunshine. And Winnalee is my little sunshine.”

  While we drove down long stretches of county roads to get to the highway, there was nothing to see but more of what we had at home, trees and brush and high-line wires, so I waited for us to get close to a new town, because I liked that the best. I liked looking at the houses that started near towns. Some old and crumpled, some medium, with bikes out front and gardens off to the side, and some brand-new. I liked looking at them all, but I liked the old houses best. I liked wondering what they must have looked like when they were new, and I liked thinking about all the old-fashioned people who once lived in them. I liked wondering if they were happy people, or sad people, or somewhere in between. And I liked thinking about what kinds of things happened to them. So while Aunt Verdella chattered about this and that, I listened to her with my big ears and I watched for the old houses, with eyes that Freeda said were pretty.

  When I thought of a bright idea, Aunt Verdella said I could dig in her purse for a pen, and I did. Then I wrote, Bright Idea #96: When you go on a trip to buy a special surprise for your best friend, sing “You Are My Sunshine” and think of all the big people and the little people who are your sunshines. Then look at the old houses you pass, and think about the people who lived in them, and hope that they were somebody’s sunshine too.

  19

  Aunt Verdella did fine until we got to the highway, then she sat at the stop sign at the end of the county road, staring out at the highway for so long that the car got oven-hot. I watched her from the corner of my eye. Her face was wet, the curls over her forehead clinging to her extra-pale skin. I could see a little shake in her hands, which were wrapped tight around the steering wheel. When her breaths started coming fast and hard, she fumbled for the door handle and got out of the car, leaving i
t running.

  I got up on my knees and watched her go around to the back of the car. She was taking quick steps from side to side, one hand on her chest and the other on her forehead. She looked downright sick. I waited until she got still, then I got out of the car. Another car zoomed past on the highway, blowing a wind on me. I hurried to Aunt Verdella and asked her if she was okay. She had tears streaming down her face as she lifted her head and looked at me. “I’ll be fine in a minute,” she said, then she told me to get back in the car and that she’d join me in a little while.

  Once in the car, Aunt Verdella slammed the door shut and dabbed at her wet eyes. She glanced in her rearview mirror. “I’m sorry about this, Button.” She blew out hard, then took a jagged breath. “It’s hard to explain, honey, but today is a very big day for Auntie. Like Freeda said, this drive will bring me my redemption.” I wanted to ask her what redemption meant, but I didn’t want to bother her, because I could tell by the way she was staring hard at nothing that her mind was busy.

  She looked down the highway in the direction we needed to turn and took another breath, this one not sounding nearly as ragged. “All these years, since that horrible accident, I’ve been wrapped up in trying to find forgiveness. From God, from the family I hurt…Then, when Freeda came over to wish me well on my trip to my friend’s house—because that’s where she believes we’re going too, of course—she told me that the only one who needs to forgive me at this point is me. And she said something else too. She said that when we can’t find forgiveness for ourselves, or for somebody else, then we should just settle for acceptance. She said what happened, happened, and if I could just accept it and stop dwellin’ on the ‘if only’s, forgiveness for myself would come in time.” Aunt Verdella laughed a tiny bit. “That girl. Only in her mid-twenties, but already wiser than most.”

  Aunt Verdella took her hands off of the steering wheel and wiggled her fingers. She took another big breath, this one softer and steadier. “There, now let’s get movin’. I think I’m ready now.” I didn’t know what to say to her, so all I said was, “I love you, Aunt Verdella.” This made fresh tears come to her eyes, but happy tears this time.