A Life of Bright Ideas Page 29

  We ate bologna sandwiches stuffed with crushed potato chips, then I lugged Evalee’s playpen downstairs because the upstairs was heated like an oven. Winnalee dozed off on the couch while Evalee sat in her infant seat next to me.

  I was too eager to wait for bedtime to write to Jesse, so around dusk, I got out my stationery. I started my letter with It’s the little things, the simple times, that we remember, and I told him about the little things in my day that I loved, and about the quiet times I remembered with him that I loved. I was on page four when Winnalee woke. Evalee was still sitting contentedly in her chair, watching me, smiling when I paused to talk to her, so Winnalee went off to fill the baby’s bathtub.

  I was licking the envelope when Winnalee shouted, “Button, come here a minute! Hurry!”

  I raced into the kitchen. “What’s the matter?”

  Winnalee had the baby lying naked on a towel on the table. “Look at this, Button.” She pointed at the red, peppery rash that spotted her chest and belly. “I think she’s got the measles!”

  “They get shots for measles, don’t they? I don’t think she can have the measles. You got her her shots, right?”

  “I didn’t get her any shots. I wasn’t around. What if Freeda didn’t? I think these are measles, Button. Go get Freeda and Aunt Verdella, will you?” Winnalee begged with such desperation, that Evalee could have been wheezing her last breath, rather than making soft little B sounds, her tiny fists punching happily at the air.

  “She doesn’t look sick to me,” I said.

  “Just get them. Hurry!”

  Uncle Rudy was sitting in his lawn chair. Strands of hay were clinging to his pants and stuck to his shoes. “You’re back,” I said.

  “Yep. Just pulled in.” I leaned over and gave his cheek a kiss, then hurried to the house. Boohoo was coming out as I was going in, and slammed into me. “Look what I got at the Community Sale,” he said, holding out a ball of twine about a foot in diameter. “Aunt Verdella got something good, too, but I can’t tell you what it is. I’m gonna go show Uncle Rudy my binder twine.”

  “She doesn’t have measles,” Freeda said when I found her. “Tell her I’ll be right over.”

  Winnalee was almost in tears when we got inside. “Geez, you took long enough.”

  Aunt Verdella and Freeda peered over Evalee, who was still naked and grinning on the table. Aunt Verdella was about to blurt something out, then she folded her hands across her tummy and backed up, waiting for Freeda to speak.

  “Winnalee, that’s just heat rash,” Freeda said.

  Winnalee blinked up at her. “Is that bad?”

  “It’s nothin’,” Freeda said. “Just bathe her and dry her off good and powder her. Leave her naked, but for her diaper. It’s not supposed to drop below seventy-nine tonight. It’ll be gone by morning.”

  “You sure? Because it might be measles. Did she have a shot for measles?”

  “It’s not goddamn measles, Winnalee. For crissakes, it’s heat rash.”

  “It’s heat rash, honey,” Aunt Verdella confirmed. She tugged her neckline out from her chest. “Look, I even got a bit of it today.”

  Freeda laughed. “Then maybe we’d best strip you down to your undies and powder you up, too.”

  I would have thought Winnalee would have relaxed after Aunt Verdella confirmed Freeda’s diagnosis, but instead she burst into tears.

  “Winnalee, what’s the matter?” Freeda asked.

  Winnalee shrugged. “I just got scared, that’s all.”

  “Yep, that’s what we mothers do. Get used to it.” She caressed Winnalee’s back.

  While Winnalee bathed Evalee, Freeda and Aunt Verdella and I meandered out to the porch, where it was a bit cooler. I thought they’d head home, but Freeda flopped into a chair and told Aunt Verdella to “take a load off.”

  “But Boohoo …”

  “Rudy’s there. Sit.”

  “But Freeda …,” Aunt Verdella said between her teeth, like Freeda wasn’t getting something.

  “Relax.”

  We left the yard light off because the moon was bright, and to have it on would only draw more mosquitoes. After Winnalee fed Evalee and got her down, Winnalee came out carrying a filled pitcher clinking with ice on the silver platter she’d found in the back of the cupboard and liked, even though it was tarnished. She had a small plate stacked with cookies, too.

  Freeda reached for a glass and took a long gulp, smacking her lips as if it was hand-squeezed lemonade, rather than lime Kool-Aid. “Now don’t I feel just like frikken Scarlett O’Hara, sitting on her veranda, getting waited on hand and foot. Thanks, honey,” Freeda said.

  “Oh, I loved that movie!” Aunt Verdella said as she took her glass and reached for a store-bought gingersnap. Freeda went to bat her hand, then stopped. “Oh hell, go at it,” she said. “Gotta treat yourself now and then.”

  I scootched over so Winnalee could sit with me since there were only three chairs.

  “My girlfriends and I went to see Gone with the Wind at least six times when it came out—and we cried at the end every time.”

  “You saw it when it was released?” I asked.

  “Wasn’t that about a hundred years ago?” Winnalee said, then sheepishly added, “Sorry.”

  Aunt Verdella laughed. “It was 1939. I was thirty … uh … thirty-six.”

  “Wow,” Winnalee said and I nudged her with my elbow. “I know,” she whispered in my hair, “but ’39? Man.”

  “We were all madly in love with Rhett Butler,” Aunt Verdella said. “But who wasn’t? To this day, I think of him leaning on the banister, and well, put it this way, he could have parked his slippers under my bed any day.”

  I sputtered Kool-Aid onto my shirt.

  “He had the breath of a dead fish, you know,” Freeda said, and it was Winnalee’s turn to spit her drink.

  “Who? Rhett Butler?” Aunt Verdella asked.

  “Well, Clark Gable,” Freeda said, which kept Winnalee and me laughing. “Vivien Leigh said so. Anyway, that’s what the women at the salon told me. One of them read it in a movie magazine. I guess it was from his dentures—doesn’t make sense, though.” She shrugged.

  “You’re kidding!” Aunt Verdella said this as though suddenly her chances for a juicy, sweet kiss from him were dashed.

  Headlights glowed in the edges of the trees close to the road and Aunt Verdella got up and went to the screen. She turned to Freeda. “He’s coming!”

  “Who?” Winnalee and I asked in unison.

  “Rhett Butler and Ashley Wilkes, by the looks of it,” Freeda said when Tommy’s truck pulled into the drive and Tommy and Craig stepped out.

  “Oh my God,” Winnalee said. “Do I have spit-up on my shirt?” I couldn’t see in the dim light, so I pulled her hair over her shoulder.

  Freeda stood up. “Tommy Smithy? Is that you? Get over here you little shit!”

  Tommy looked shy when he stepped onto the porch and Freeda reached for him—either because he still had a crush on her, or because he was remembering when he did.

  “My God,” Freeda said when she let go of him. “Just look at you. All filled out, shoulders like a football player. I’ll be damned.”

  Tommy hurried to introduce Craig, who was acting even shyer than usual. I was waiting for Freeda to say something obnoxious to him, too, but she didn’t.

  “I left a message with Ada, asking Tommy to do a little favor for me,” Aunt Verdella explained to Winnalee and me, her chest puffed with pride.

  “Sorry I’m so late, Mrs. Peters,” Tommy said. “Craig and I went fishing after we got done with the baler. Ma told me you called when I got back, and we headed right over to Hank’s.”

  “Well I’m just glad you came. And, that you brought help. I was thinking you and Rudy could carry it in, but I worry about his back.”

  “Bring what in?” Winnalee asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  Winnalee and I waited on the porch with Freeda, while Tommy and Craig wen
t to the back of Tommy’s truck. “Jesus, I can’t believe that Tommy Smithy. Wasn’t he scrawny, and goofy lookin’ as a squirrel when he was a kid?”

  “Enough about Tommy,” Winnalee whispered. “What about Craig? Isn’t he a hunk? Did you see him looking at me?”

  “Yeah, he’s a cute one,” Freeda said. “But sorry if I didn’t notice him looking at you. I guess I was too busy watching Tommy with this one.”

  “Oh, don’t expect Button to have noticed. Her radar is broken.”

  “Well, then I’ll spell it out for you, Button,” Freeda said. “Looks like that soldier boy of yours has some competition.” I wished Jesse had heard her comment. He still hadn’t written, even though he had to have gotten my picture by now.

  Tommy backed his truck up to the porch door, and there was a big square box covered in tarp. “Be careful boys … don’t drop it.”

  “Holy crap, Button. You see that? It’s a TV set!” Winnalee shouted. “Wow, we can watch Dark Shadows and American Bandstand and everything, right here at home!”

  “I paid Hank for it and told him I’d pick it up one way or another.”

  Winnalee and I wrapped Aunt Verdella with hugs as she followed the boys up the steps, telling them to be careful not to nick the cabinet because it was in good shape. “It’s an older set, so the color might not be as good as it should be, but Hank said it works real good.”

  Tommy and Craig stood holding the giant console. “Where do you want it?” Tommy asked.

  Winnalee and I looked around the living room and the guys waited as we women dickered over which corner it would look best in, then we stopped them before the legs touched the floor, because we changed our minds. Winnalee’s the one who started saying, “Oh, fiddle-dee-dee,” each time we changed our mind, and sent them to a different spot.

  “There,” we finally agreed. “We can see it good from the couch and the chair,” Winnalee said. “And from the kitchen,” I added.

  Only the reception wasn’t great in that corner, so they had to move it back to the first place we’d tried.

  I couldn’t resist teasing Tommy by saying, “Wait, on second thought …”

  Tommy cut me off. “Frankly, Scarlett, I don’t give a damn. It’s stayin’ right where it is.”

  Aunt Verdella waited until Tommy had the TV plugged in and the rabbit ears adjusted, then she thanked the guys for helping. “I’d better get back home. Rudy probably fell asleep in the lawn chair, and who knows what Boohoo’s doing.”

  “I’ll head back with you,” Freeda said. “You’ll likely need my help freeing Rudy from the web of twine Boohoo has him tangled in by now.”

  “Oh,” Tommy said before they could get out the door. “Mom told me to tell you guys that she’s having a big cookout next weekend to celebrate the end of haying season—if we get done. Probably on Sunday. She’ll be calling you.”

  After they all left, Winnalee and I sat on the couch side by side and watched a stupid Western because that’s all that was on, and we laughed as we remembered when we used to play that we were saloon girls. Then Winnalee got serious and said, “Craig looked right in my face when I showed him how cute Evalee was, and I don’t think he checked out my ass once, did he?” I told her I didn’t think so, either, and she smiled first, then frowned. “Wait a minute … is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

  CHAPTER

  37

  BRIGHT IDEA #87: On days when your head hurts on the outside because you didn’t know when to get out of the sun, or on days when your head hurts so bad on the inside that you don’t want to make pot holders because your ma got spilled, it can still turn out to be a good day if even one good person does one nice thing for you.

  The morning after the Community Sale, Winnalee hung the old dresses in a line along the upstairs banister, and Boohoo helped spread the buttons and jewelry over the coffee table so she could see them as she sketched, until he lost interest in the buttons because Captain Kangaroo came on. He turned to Evalee, who was sitting beside him in her infant seat. “Watch this, Cupcake.” He swerved her chair to face the TV. “I think Bun is gonna get clobbered this morning.”

  Boohoo turned to the couch, where we sat contemplating a neckline alteration. He was giggling. “Look at her legs,” he said, pointing at Evalee, whose fists were punching and roly-poly legs were kicking. “She likes Cap’n, too.”

  I was just opening the waxy milk carton to fix Boohoo some cereal when Winnalee screamed out, “Boohoo!”

  I poked my head out of the kitchen, just as Winnalee was snatching Evalee out of Boohoo’s arms. “What are you doing? You know you’re not supposed to pick her up!”

  Boohoo looked indignant. “Her legs were going because she wanted to hop. Like Hoppy. So I was helping her get up.”

  Winnalee was patting Evalee’s back as though she had been dropped, when I got in the room with the bowl of Quisp. I told Boohoo, “Toads hop, people don’t.”

  He looked up at me with quiet defiance. “Uh-uh,” he said. “Aunt Verdella hops.”

  Over the next few days, Winnalee sketched her alteration idea for each dress while I sewed. “Geesh, Winnalee, these are taking lots more time than I thought they would. I could have sewn this dress from scratch in the time it’s taken me to do the alterations. And hand-sewing all that hardware on them? Geez.”

  “Then we’ll charge an arm and a leg,” she said. I wasn’t sure anyone would buy them, but Winnalee was convinced that Cindy and her bridesmaids and the girls whose jeans I dressed up, would scarf up every one of them. Then their friends would see them and want some, and well, we’d have ourselves a little business going in no time.

  “Was that the door?” Winnalee asked. Freeda’s voice rang out, so we scooped up Evalee and hurried downstairs.

  Freeda took the baby and smooched her cheeks with kisses, then asked if I’d found the canning jars that Aunt Verdella asked me to search for in the basement. I told her they were in the kitchen, washed, then, while Winnalee led Freeda there, I headed outside because I’d heard the mailman’s car pull up.

  “Here you go,” he called as he leaned out the passenger window with my mail.

  A letter from Jesse! I snatched it out of the mailman’s hands, and it was thick between my thumb and fingers. Jesse never wrote more than a couple of paragraphs! I stood holding it, my quickened heart chasing away every thought but opening it and savoring every word.

  I didn’t want to go back into the house, because I knew Winnalee and Freeda would stand over my shoulder, eager to see what impression my photograph made. I only wanted to be alone with Jesse’s letter, so I jumped in the Rambler and headed down the road.

  I shocked myself when I turned down Fossard’s drive, as if I’d forgotten I was ever terrified of the place. I didn’t look to either side, but kept my eyes straight ahead, thinking of nothing but how I wanted to read my letter down where the fairies played. Where magical, good things could happen.

  I drove as far as the ruts allowed, then left the Rambler sitting in the open. I tugged the bulky letter out of my pocket and held it tight to my middle as I half ran, half skidded down the bank. I didn’t stop until I was safely on the rock where I’d found Winnalee the last time I was here. The sun was sparking off the water, and up above the falls, insects made miniature ripples as they skipped across the surface.

  I drew my knees up and carefully tore Jesse’s letter open at one end like I always did, so I wouldn’t tear my name, written in his hand. I unfolded the letter—four pages long!—and smoothed it over my naked knees.

  Dear Evy,

  Sorry I haven’t written in awhile, but things got a little crazy here, plus my buddy Bill got a “Dear John” letter from his girlfriend and was pretty messed up for awhile. They were supposed to marry on his leave. Poor bastard. But that’s not the only reason you haven’t heard from me.

  Christ, Evy. I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes now, chain-smoking while I try to get up enough courage to tell you something. Isn’t t
hat stupid? We’ve been close for years, and you’ve been writing me long letters—which I LOVE—spilling your guts to me about what’s happening in your life, and your feelings. Why I should be nervous about THIS then, is beyond me. You’ve always been the one I could talk to about love. Yet I’m nervous as hell right now.

  Jesse was going to talk to me about love? I knew it! I just knew it! A wave of joy whooshed over me like water over rocks, washing clean every doubt I ever had about Jesse being a snowflake and therefore, not for me. I flipped the filled page over, and the hem of my hair brushed over the paper like a painter’s brush dipped in gold.

  Remember awhile back, when I said I’d been granted a three-day pass and was going to Ulm? Bill and Deek and I went (this was before Bill’s woman wrote that for-shit letter). Deek’s married, Bill was engaged, so it wasn’t like we were heading to Ulm to get some action. We were going to kick back, and have ourselves some good German brew. We went to this bar where a lot of the GIs go, a lot of whores, too. But it was too crowded, too damn hot, too tempting for my buddies maybe, so we found this bar off the beaten path. And well. Shit. I met somebody there, Evy. Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve been spouting off about girls to you for the past four years, but wait. Wait until I’m finished because this has an unexpected ending.

  My breath snagged on my ribs. Jesse had met someone? I pressed my hand over my mouth and my eyes darted side to side, as if desperate to find some better truth to look at, than the one I was seeing on paper.

  My hands shook the paper, and the wind ruffled its corners. Wait until I’m finished because this has an unexpected ending. I read that line again. And again. Telling myself to swallow my fear and keep reading, because maybe, just maybe, what he was going to tell me was that he couldn’t act on that attraction because when he tried to, all he could see was my picture hanging above his cot, and something kept tugging his heart back to me.

  I don’t know why I was drawn to her. She wasn’t beautiful, maybe not even pretty. Yet there was just something about her that kept me glancing over at the table where she sat all alone.