A Life of Bright Ideas Page 30

  Evy, you know me. I’ve probably had a girl for every foil wrapper in that crazy chain you made, but this is different. We spent that night together—the next night too. On the third day, she painted me—she watercolors and sells her paintings for big money. So okay, here’s the kicker—SHE’S FORTY YEARS OLD! Almost as old as my mother! A widow, and she’s got a grown kid a year younger than me. There’s a sadness about her that just makes me want to …

  The moan I made sounded muffled, like it was underwater. I couldn’t read any more. I couldn’t.

  I tossed the letter to the side, and the wind pushed it against the boulder I sat on. I rocked myself as I cried for how stupid I’d been to think that any man but Uncle Rudy could love me, and how dumb I was to believe that anyone would really stay in my life forever.

  I rocked myself until the sun disappeared behind rain clouds, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Then I stood up, wanting only to run. But I couldn’t leave that letter at the falls and risk someone reading it and witnessing my humiliation. And I couldn’t bring it home for the same reason.

  The letter was too thick to rip in a stack, so I took the first page and pinned the others against me with my arm, then tore the sheet into tiny pieces, tossing them into the swirling water, where they fell like confetti that had lost its way to a party. One by one, I ripped the pages, the shame and anger I felt at myself and my broken radar making my hands strong.

  I had the last page torn in half when I saw the P.S. at the bottom: Hey, great picture! Deek said you were a babe and Bill asked if you were taken. I told him hands off, because you are far too sweet for him. I ripped that page in even finer pieces, and choked on my sobs as the raging dark water swallowed the last bit of my hope.

  The sky rumbled as I headed back to my car. But I couldn’t go home. Not just yet. Winnalee would know something was wrong and drill me until she guessed the rest. Then she’d call Jesse a prick and tell me I was too good for him. And Freeda’d say the same, and tell me not to let any guy tear me down. Aunt Verdella would cry, of course, her expression the same one Ma wore when the only boy I had the guts to ask to the Sadie Hawkins dance when I was a freshman—Robert, a raindrop like me, with so many zits his chin looked like mincemeat—turned me down. If that’s how they reacted, I knew I’d split open like a filleted fish. And with no backbone left and my panic and angst lying bare, I knew I’d pathetically plead with each of them to never, ever leave me.

  I drove toward town in a blazing storm that both darkened and lit the sky at the same time. I didn’t care if it blew me to bits, and I would have driven right through it, but the same wind that swirled the treetops was whipping sheets of rain at the windshield. Between the rain and my tears—and on a road I wasn’t familiar with because of the detour—I could no longer see where I was going. I pulled over, leaned my head against the window, and cried with noise—something I hadn’t done since Ma died. I’d cry as long and hard as I needed to in a desperate attempt to dump out every bit of disappointment I felt, so I wouldn’t risk taking it home with me.

  It wasn’t the sound of knuckles whacking against my window that alerted me to the fact that I was no longer alone, but the glass shaking against my head. I startled and turned, and tried to make out the face obscured by rain, and the fog over the glass that my heavy sobs had made. “Evy?”

  I swabbed my face with one hand, and rubbed a circle on the glass with the other. It took me a moment to recognize Craig, because his blond hair was darkened and flattened from the rain.

  I wiped my face some more as Craig sprinted around the car and slipped in the passenger seat. His shirt was soaked and clinging to his shoulders. “You break down, or are you just waiting out the storm?”

  “Waiting out the storm,” I said, my voice hoarse. I looked straight ahead to hide my bloodshot eyes, and hoped he’d think the dampness on my cheeks was from the rain.

  “Yeah, it’s coming down pretty hard. I was heading home and saw your car. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t having trouble.” He rubbed the knuckles on his right hand as if they were sore, but he didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say, either.

  “It looks like the rain’s easing up a bit, so I guess I can get moving again,” I said, though it didn’t look like it was letting up at all. But storms never last forever.

  “Yeah … Evy? Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  I nodded and he stared at my profile for a second longer, then he nodded, too.

  I watched the rain over the back window ripple his form as he trotted back to his car. Before I reached Dauber, I had my plan. I’d open the shop with my key and pick through spools of lavender thread that I’d claim I needed for a new sewing project—which was true, even if I didn’t need it immediately. I’d claim that I called inside that I was going, but they must not have heard me. Then I’d tell them that I’d gotten confused along the detour and drove almost to Porter before I realized how far out of the way I’d gone. I’d hint that it was my fear over the approaching storm that had me muddled, and that I hadn’t wanted to leave town until the sky stopped sparking and the narrow streams running alongside the curbs had drained. And I’d never tell any of them about Jesse’s letter. I’d only pretend to lose interest, so that hopefully, by the time Jesse got up the guts to tell his mom about this woman, enough time would have passed that they’d not expect it to sting me.

  When I got home, Winnalee was on the couch, the TV blaring. A laundry basket stuffed with clothes was in the doorway.

  I wasn’t standing there more than fifteen seconds when Winnalee looked up. “Oh, you’re back. Where’d you go?” she asked as she untangled her hair with her fingers.

  I recited my fib, and she didn’t question it. She only asked if I’d keep an ear out for Evalee so she could get the clothes washed.

  Two people were kissing on TV, and I got up to shut it off. Out the window, I saw Winnalee, climbing up Aunt Verdella’s front steps, the basket on her hip. She stopped and looked toward the driveway. I moved to another window and saw Tommy getting out of his truck. Winnalee looked over to our place as Tommy talked, his hands working like puppets. No doubt he’d spotted her and thought I was there, too. I knew why he’d come. Craig had told him how he’d found me earlier in the day, and now he was telling Winnalee.

  I went into the kitchen and poured myself some water. On TV that’s what they always gave people when they were upset. I didn’t expect Tommy to walk in when I ignored his knocking, but he did.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said. I didn’t say anything, so he followed it up with “I know, Evy.”

  “Of course you do. I knew Craig would blab.”

  “I don’t just mean I knew you were crying. I mean, I know why you were crying.”

  I shut the faucet off. “What, are you psychic?”

  I heard a noise, and strained to hear in case it was Evalee fussing. But I didn’t hear anything but the thumping of my own pulse in my ears.

  “No,” Tommy said. “Craig and I stopped for a beer last night, and Amy was there. She was flappin’ her gums to her friends about Jesse Dayne, and the letter she got from him. I guess she’d written to tell him she wanted to get back with him, and he told her he was seeing someone in Germany. He must have told you the same thing.”

  I turned away. “So? Why would that upset me? Jesse and I are friends. That’s it. Just friends.”

  “He told you, didn’t he? That’s why you were so upset.”

  I turned away and grabbed the dishcloth—grateful that Winnalee always left droplets of milk, or crumbs of some kind or other on the counter. I kept my head down as I swirled the dishrag. “I wasn’t crying. My face was wet from the rain.”

  Tommy sighed. “Why are you lying?”

  I spun and faced him. “Well maybe I’m just trying to keep a little shred of dignity, okay?”

  I don’t know what I expected Tommy to do with that, but certainly not what he did. He came forward and before I could r
aise my arms to block him, he put his arms around me.

  Tommy’s skin had the faint smell of fresh hay clinging to the scent of soap. I wanted to shove him away, but instead I fell against him. “I feel so dumb,” I sobbed.

  “We’ve all been that kind of dumb before,” he said.

  “Button?” Winnalee’s voice rang from the other side of the house. Tommy backed away and I scraped the tears from my face.

  “Honey?” Aunt Verdella and Freeda echoed, as if I was lost and they were my search party.

  They came barreling into the kitchen, all three of them, their arms reaching.

  “Jesse—that stupid asshole! Why didn’t you tell me, Button?”

  Aunt Verdella squeezed me to her. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry! That boy’s gotta be blind, if he can’t see that the best girl he could ever find is right here in Dauber.”

  “I hope that old broad gives him crabs,” Winnalee said.

  “Don’t you feel bad about yourself for this, Button,” Freeda said.

  Aunt Verdella and Freeda led me to the couch and sat down beside me. They wrapped their arms around me tighter than a turtleneck, and Winnalee crouched before me, her hands cupping my knees as though they were beautiful. Tommy slipped out the door, and Winnalee and Freeda and Aunt Verdella continued, saying all the things I knew they’d say. But while I expected to feel humiliated, I didn’t. I only felt loved.

  CHAPTER

  38

  BRIGHT IDEA #39: Don’t start a grease fire if you don’t know how to put one out.

  You never really know how life is going to go. You make your plans, you have your hopes, you try to guess, but you never really know.

  On the day of Ada’s cookout, I took my bath at dawn so I wouldn’t have to wait for Winnalee, who stayed in the tub forever once she finally got in. Then I rolled my damp hair in the big, plastic curlers I picked up last time I went to town, and hurried across the road to grab an oblong cake pan from Aunt Verdella. It wasn’t seven o’clock yet, but Aunt Verdella always woke early on big days.

  Aunt Verdella and Uncle Rudy were in the kitchen—Freeda and Boohoo were still asleep. “Just look at what me and Freeda did yesterday,” Aunt Verdella said, pointing to the rows of canned food lined on the counter and covering half of the table. “We put up eight quarts of tomatoes, ten quarts of beans, and we made six more jars of pickles last night.”

  Uncle Rudy looked up from his coffee. “I’m gonna have pickles comin’ out of my ears,” he said.

  Aunt Verdella laughed. “Freeda did such a good job takin’ care of that garden while Rudy was haying, that we’d probably have enough food canned for a lifetime, if they’d keep that long. And string beans—we can’t keep up!”

  I was crouched down digging in the cupboard for a cake pan when Uncle Rudy said he’d better go outside to see if his lawn chair needed any company. “We’re gonna have a fun day,” Aunt Verdella said. “One to remember.”

  “I’ll dress Evalee,” I told Winnalee, eager to share the surprise I’d been working on in snatches when I could sneak some sewing in.

  It was impossible not to smooch Evalee’s soft cheeks at least a hundred times every time you picked her up. I kissed her until her cheeks got red, then held her to me and peppered her head with soft kisses as I told her that she would always be special, no matter what boy failed to realize it.

  Evalee looked like a little princess in the lavender dress I’d made her, with matching bloomers and enough ruffles to make Cindy Jamison faint. I tied the little eyelet bonnet under her chin. “There. This one won’t bobble on you. See? Remember when Auntie Button measured your head?”

  When we got downstairs, Winnalee was still in the bathroom, bent over so she could wrap a towel around her dripping hair. “I have a surprise to show you,” I called.

  “Fun!” she said.

  I was holding Evalee out when she came out of the bathroom stark naked, and she squealed when she took her, “Oh, Button, she looks adorable!” And then she noticed the best part. The print on the fabric.

  “Fairies? You found material with little fairies on it?” Her laughter rang through the house. She held Evalee high and twirled her in circles. “Look what I found in Dauber after all! My very own little fairy!”

  “I made her this, too,” I said. I slipped the strap for the quilted diaper bag in the same fabric down my arm. “So you don’t have to carry her things in that ratty army bag.”

  “Aw, Button. That was so dang nice of you!”

  I laughed. “ ‘Dang’? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘dang’ before. Not once. Not ever.”

  “Me and Freeda are turning over a new leaf,” she explained. “We’re not gonna swear around her—or any kids for that matter—anymore. We decided that if we can give up sex until we find somebody worth having it with, then we can probably give up cussing until these kids grow, too.”

  “Oh, lands sake, look at our Cupcake!” Aunt Verdella cried out when she spotted us crossing the road. Freeda scooted her purse up her arm and reached for Evalee, then the two of them fussed over her like it was the first time they’d laid eyes on her. Winnalee insisted we wear two of our “designs” because it would be good advertisement, so I wore bell-bottoms tacked with crocheted lace down one leg, and the lacy dress we converted into a long, empire-style shirt. We’d added new sleeves and random patches, made from scraps of other fabrics. I wasn’t sure about the color and print combinations—akin to the pot holders Winnalee used to make—but the style was really cool. Winnalee was wearing one of our recycled dresses, I think from the forties, the waist and hem lifted to make it an empire-style minidress, but keeping the same princess neckline and capped sleeves. “And oh, look at the girls!” Aunt Verdella said to Freeda, and they fussed over our outfits as if we were every bit as lovely in them as Evalee was in hers.

  “Wait until you see the rest,” Winnalee told them. “We have four left to alter. When they’re all finished, me and Button will put on a fashion show for you.”

  When we got to the Smithys’, cars were crammed in the driveway and lined along the dirt road. Boohoo was in the backseat beside Evalee. “Hey, look!” he shouted. “Tommy’s got his Piper out!” And there it was, sitting in the field, at the mouth of a makeshift runway mowed into the field.

  “Far out!” Winnalee said. “I’m gonna make him take me up in it, too. He promised.”

  “He’s gonna take me, too,” Boohoo said, as he bounced on the seat. Even the thought of Boohoo up in the air in that old contraption was enough to make me sweat—not that I needed to figure out how to keep that from happening today. There was a thick haze hanging in the air (which hopefully wouldn’t lift anytime soon), and Tommy wouldn’t fly when visibility was poor.

  We pulled over on the side of the road and parked. Aunt Verdella hopped ahead of us, staying close to the line of parked cars. “Oh my gosh, look at all these cars. Ada said her invite list had grown, but I had no idea. Everybody in Dauber must be here. Good thing she made it pot luck.

  “Rudy, Rudy, is that Reece’s car?” Aunt Verdella hurried to get a closer look before he could answer. “It is,” she called back. Freeda, pretty in the same yellow shift she’d made spaghetti in, her hair glossy and ratted high at the crown, pretended not to hear.

  Long tables made from boards propped on sawhorses and adorned with a variety of tablecloths sat in the center of the yard, and clusters of metal lawn chairs borrowed from Ada’s church were scattered here and there. Tommy and a couple of older men were manning two grills that filled the air with beef-scented smoky plumes. All around us people were chattering—about the length of time it took them to get there because of the road construction, about the haying season, their aches and pains, and just about anything else.

  As we carried the food we’d brought to the table, Boohoo pointed across the yard at a boy about his size, who was running with a pack of little kids. “That’s Rupert! He’s from my school.” Boohoo ran off to catch up with him, and Aunt Verdella a
nd I sent trailing after him our warnings to stay in the yard and be good.

  “Look who’s here,” Winnalee said. I turned, expecting to see Fanny Tilman, based on Winnalee’s tone alone—and she was there—but she was pointing at Brody Bishop. He was standing in a group of young guys, his legs spread, his hands on his hips. Cigars with blue bands puffed his shirt pocket.

  Winnalee lost interest in Brody when she spotted Tommy at the grill. She dragged me over to him. “Hey, you’re taking me up in the Piper today, right?”

  Tommy searched my face for some sign I was feeling better, as he answered, “If the haze lifts, I will.”

  “What difference does that make?” Winnalee asked.

  Tommy blinked at her. “Well, I’ve kind of got to be able to see where I’m goin’, don’t I?”

  Winnalee frowned at the sky.

  Tommy flipped hamburgers as the two men helping him brought platters of steaks to the table. “Bishop’s kid was born last night,” he told me after Winnalee got swallowed up by a brood of older ladies who wanted to cluck over Evalee.

  “Was he there when the baby was born?” I asked hopefully.

  “Course not. He said he’s going, but who knows.”

  Tommy got called away by Ada, and I watched Boohoo race ahead of Rupert and two smaller boys, trying to catch the tail of twine dangling behind him. Dad was standing over by the beer tub with Elroy Tilman, not more than twelve feet away, but I doubted he’d even said hello to Boohoo. Brody’s little boy would suffer the same fate, and that made me hurt inside for him. And for Marls.

  I’ve never liked those first awkward minutes after you get to a gathering, when everyone’s broken off in groups and you don’t quite know which one to join. So I was glad when Winnalee broke away from the older ladies and called me over to a cluster of girls about our age, one wearing a pair of bell-bottoms we’d tacked with crocheted lace. “They wanna see your shirt, Button.” Winnalee spun me around so they could admire my shirt—dress, whatever it was supposed to be—and the girls fingered the ribbons dangling loose from the seams at the shoulders. “See? The same ribbons are gathering the long, puffy sleeves at her wrists. Cool, huh?” The girls wanted a shirt just like it, but Winnalee told them that we only make one-of-a-kind garments.