Just Claire (11 page)

C
laireLee plopped
her hot lunch tray down across from Belinda. Excited to eat the cook's cafeteria food, she cut into the hot dog. After adding sauerkraut to her fork, she scooped the combination into her mouth. “Mmmm.”

“It stinks to high heaven.” Belinda pinched her nose. “Grandma's always tryin' to get me to eat her homemade kraut.” She dropped forkfuls onto ClaireLee's plate. “Smellin' it fermentin' for weeks? Pee-you.”

Chewing and swallowing, ClaireLee dropped her hotdog on Belinda's plate. “Here, and I'll eat your stinky kraut. And guess what?”

“Hot diggity dog.” Scraping the last stringy kraut off her fork and onto ClaireLee's plate, she said, “I give up, what?”

“Daddy says I can spend the night at your house this Friday.”

“Yeah.” Belinda's eyes glowed. “We'll make a chocolate cake for dessert and stay up late eating popcorn.” She leaned in close. “I'll betcha Grandma Neecy will let us sleep in the shack.”

With her butter knife in midair, ClaireLee said, “The shack?”

“Yeah, it's the original house Grandma and Granddad built when they homesteaded.”

Imaginations clutching at her throat, ClaireLee worried over dust, spider-webs, and creepy crawlies under the bed. “Sounds like an adventure.” She forced her lips into a happy face.

C
laireLee hadn't ridden
a school bus since leaving her home in Oregon. She pressed her cheek against the window and gazed upward. The forest had grown dense, a canopy over the dirt road to Belinda's home. “Do you live a ways from here?”

“It takes long enough for me to get my homework done before I get off.” Belinda stuck her thumb up as in
great
.

I'm glad to get away from the cabin and everybody.
ClaireLee slouched down and pushed her feet into the seat in front of her.
Daddy's home taking care of things.
She relaxed where she sat. “Do you have animals?”

“We have one cow.” Belinda counted on her fingers. “Ten hens, one rooster, an ugly kitten living in our barn.”

Feeling carefree, ClaireLee flashed her teeth at Belinda. “You lucky duck. Before we left for Gallagher Springs, I asked Daddy for a milk cow. He said he'd buy me one when the tunnel's done and we go back home.” A sad thought surfaced, a heavy pressure inside of ClaireLee took hold, and she grew overwhelmed.
I'll no longer have the schedule to milk a cow unless Mama gets better.

“Have ya ever milked?” Belinda pantomimed milking a cow. “I can teach ya how if ya wanna learn.”

“I would love it.” This time, ClaireLee's heart flew. “Tonight?”

“Sure thing. I always milk at night, and Grandma milks in the mornings.”

At Belinda's bus stop, ClaireLee followed her to the front of the bus and waved at Big Red. “See you later.”

In Big Red style, he tipped his hat at them. “Good-bye, Miss ClaireLee, Miss Belinda.”

One after the other, the girls hopped down from the last bus step. Without warning, Belinda sprinted on the dirt road which led to a house on a knoll. ClaireLee pumped her legs faster. “Hey, wait for me.”

“Nuh-uh,” Belinda hollered over her shoulder. “I've got to beat ya, ClaireLee Monteiro.”

The girls reached the front porch at the same time, and Grandma Neecy met them at the door. “Well, now, there ya are.” Her brows met in the middle, eyes red-rimmed.

Sensing trouble, ClaireLee's feet froze below the first wooden step.

Belinda placed a hand on the railing. “Something wrong, Grandma?”

“We got family troubles, Lindy.” Her eyes grew shiny, and she smoothed stray hairs from her flushed cheeks. She drew closer and hugged ClaireLee. The scent of bacon drifted from within the folds of Grandma Neecy's chest. She said, “I'm sorry ya gotta hear this, darlin', when all ya want is to have some fun with Lindy.” Stepping back, she let go of ClaireLee.

“What happened?” Belinda asked.

“We got this here letter.” Grandma Neecy stuffed fingers into her tattered and stained apron pocket. “It's addressed from a Hol-lee Wood hotel.” A crinkled hanky dropped as she withdrew her hand. “It's from your fidgety mama.”

Belinda leaned into ClaireLee's shoulder, and ClaireLee dug her shoes into the ground to keep from toppling. Belinda's grandma moved indoors and sat on a kitchen chair. The girls locked eyes and followed.

With a sigh, Grandma Neecy said, “I'll read the important part.”

D
ear Ma
,

I'm making a life for myself in Hollywood. I want you to raise Belinda as your own. If I make it as an actress, I don't know when I'll get back to see you both. I would be able to afford to have you fly here for a visit, or even to live with me.

T
ossing
the news on the table, Grandma Neecy poked at her chest. “
I
be your ma. Boy howdy, doesn't this beat all.” She leaned forward. “I outta slap my girl over the head with a wet squirrel. But, ain't she smart, 'cause she's not here for me to hurt a poor varmint.”

Belinda spun in a half circle, bumped into a chair, and hit the screen door with her palm. It banged behind her with a
clack, clack
. ClaireLee flinched as her friend disappeared round the side of the house.

Waving a hand in frustration, Grandma Neecy said, “She's cryin' mad, this one.” Sighing again, she dabbed her face on her apron. “Makes me wonder what I done wrong in raisin'. . .watcha-ma-call-it. I can't even say my own girl's name, I'm so dad blast it—” Gasping, she covered her mouth. “There I go a'cursin'.” Fluttering her lashes, she gave ClaireLee a sideways glance.

“Pardon me, please, darlin'.” She pushed herself from the table. “I done my cryin' and prayin' before y'all showed your faces.” Spreading her wide fingers down her hips, she said, “Now then, I'll get us some milk and cookies.” She patted ClaireLee's arms. “My appetite's fired up, don't ya know.”

Poor Belinda.
ClaireLee took three strides to the door. “I've got to see if she's okay.”

Like a vise-grip, Grandma Neecy grabbed her arm. “No, no, no, sweetheart, Lindy don't cotton to folks gettin' all sent-ta-mental while her feelings are hurt.”

Pacing in the kitchen, ClaireLee prayed a silent prayer.
God, please help Belinda and make this better somehow.
Grandma Neecy placed a tin milk jug and a platter of sugar-kissed peanut butter cookies on the table. Moving closer, ClaireLee inhaled. “Smells good.”

The two of them hunched their shoulders, eating and drinking in silence. ClaireLee munched on another cookie and counted five iron skillets of various sizes hanging from the low ceiling. Spoons and ladles also hung ready to assist Grandma Neecy in cooking and baking. One day, ClaireLee would hang her cookware within easy reach as she commanded her own kitchen. W
hen I'm on my own.

The screen door screeched. “Eatin' cookies?” Belinda's puppy-dog stare swept over the spread of goodies, and ClaireLee patted the chair for Belinda to come sit next to her.

“Ready for a snack, Lindy?” Bending over the table, Grandma Neecy placed down another cloth napkin.

Head bowed, Belinda shuffled her feet. “Yes ma'am.”

An expression passed between them, as if to say, w
e're in this together
.

Grandma Neecy crossed her arms and exhaled. “Lindy, we have to leave during Easter vacation.”

The cookie in Belinda's fist didn't make it to her mouth. “To where?”

Eyes crackling like fireworks, Grandma Neecy said, “We haven't seen hide nor hair of your mama in months. So,”—she spit the words clear across the room—“where do ya think?”

Belinda swallowed a drink of milk and cleared her throat. “Whatever you say, Grandma.”

“Now, Lindy.” She slapped a hand on the table, making ClaireLee jump. “I ain't sayin' I won't take care of ya till you're grown.” A gnawing on wood came from one corner of the wall. Grandma Neecy glared at the spot. “Shucks, Lindy, I'm givin' you this property when I go to the Great Beyond, don't ya know.”

Like butter melting in the sun, ClaireLee's muscles relaxed.
Her grandma's going to keep her.
God answered her prayer.

The old woman wagged a finger at Belinda. “Glory be, we gotta rescue your ma from the sinful place.”

Tears filled Belinda's eyes, and she shrugged. “I'll start callin' you Ma instead of Grandma.” Shuddering with her sobs for a long moment, she finally inhaled. ClaireLee touched Belinda's shoulder, and Belinda swiped at her cheeks. “Ma doesn't want me.”

Grandma Neecy's eyes pierced Belinda. “Every young'un needs a mama, little one.”

“Yes, Grandma.” She wiped her nose with a napkin.

A thought jolted ClaireLee.
Does Mama want me anymore?

C
laireLee talked
about how much fun she had milking the cow while she cradled two bowls of popcorn. “And you know, Belinda, I'll get better at milking when I have my own cow.”

Supper was over. Belinda walked toward the shack and ahead of ClaireLee, holding the lantern high. “I believe you. You did a sure enough good job, until your fingers wore out.” Reaching the front door, Belinda grabbed the knob, but met resistance. “Ah, piddle. I swear this old door rusts between our comings and goings.” She shoved with her shoulder, and the door creaked all the way open.

As they entered, the two friends chitchatted in soft tones. Belinda flipped on the light switch and told ClaireLee which bed was hers. “There's an outhouse out back, but we don't use it.” Then, Belinda left, so she could use the main house bathroom.

Spider-webs graced every corner and ceiling of the log house. Where were the critters of such creations?

Throwing back the covers of her twin bed, ClaireLee examined the sheets. No creepy crawlies, and clean to boot. She let out a sigh, fluffing her pillow. Grandma Neecy was the sweetest lady and the best cook ever. Generous with her home-churned butter, also. Two slices of chocolate cake—smothered in butter—sat nicely in ClaireLee's belly. But the thing about Grandma Neecy? A neat and tidy home didn't concern her.

Unlike Mama.
Or what Mama used to be like.
ClaireLee shook Mama from her thoughts.

When Belinda came back, the girls propped themselves against their headboards and ate popcorn. ClaireLee was licking the oil off her fingers, when Belinda said, “Ah, shucks. This place doesn't have a radio.”

Reaching for the top of the dresser, ClaireLee said, “Hold on.” She grabbed her coat and dug in the pocket. Lifting out her transistor, she switched it on. The music played, “Let the world know where you belong, look to Jesus and pray. . .” After the song ended, she switched it to low volume. “How about we do a seal-our-friendship-forever ceremony?”

Belinda smacked her lips. “What a walloping good idea.”

“Do you have scissors?” ClaireLee licked butter from around her mouth.

Crawling from the front of the bed to the foot, Belinda hollered, “Yahoo, I'll be right back.” Minutes later, Belinda handed them to ClaireLee. “Claire, you're
killin'
me with curiosity. How are we sealin' our friendship with scissors?”

Clicking the shears near Belinda's head, she said, “We're going to cut snippets of each other's hair and exchange locks.”

“Whoo-hoo.” Belinda fell backward on the bed, kicking her bare feet in the air. She bolted upright. “How we gonna keep the hair together?”

Tapping a finger on her lip, she said, “With a rubber band?”

“Gottcha.” She left once more and returned with two rubber bands.

Separating strands of Belinda's hair at the back of her neck, ClaireLee aimed the shears for the cut. Belinda waved a hand. “Don't hurt me.” ClaireLee pressed on the scissors handles and snipped. Belinda craned her neck to see. “Oh my stars, what have you gone and done?” ClaireLee dangled the piece to show her. The strain on her face disappeared. “Whew, it's not so much.”

“This is fun.” ClaireLee settled on the bed for her haircut.

Loosening ClaireLee's braids, Belinda gathered hair from underneath. “Here I go.”

A sensation of metal against skin made ClaireLee shiver. As the scissors closed around her hair, it sounded more like cutting a cord of string. She flinched.
She's cut too much.
Belinda showed her the hair, and ClaireLee sighed with relief. “We did it, Belinda.”

“Yeppers, we did.”

The girls rubber-banded each other's hair and jiggled them as though they danced. Belinda made a fist, poking out a little finger. “Let's double seal our friendship.” ClaireLee copied her. They hooked fingers and Belinda said, “Pinky promise. Friends forever.”

ClaireLee tugged Belinda's finger extra hard. “We're like twins.”

Staring at ClaireLee's wavy brown hair hanging from her hand, Belinda pressed her lips. “There's no way. I have too many scars to ever be pretty—”

“No you don't.” She squinted at Belinda. “And besides, I don't notice them anymore. What I meant was we're both sort of like orphans.”

Belinda gave her a knowing nod. “Because of our ma's.” She touched her cheek. “Ya never asked how I got these on my face.”

Blinking at her, ClaireLee waited. She figured Belinda would tell her eventually.

“Before Ma ran off, I was walkin' to Holcomb's for some candy. A car hit me as I crossed the road. The guy was drunk.”

“Did you have to go to the hospital?” ClaireLee asked.

“Hospital?” Belinda laughed. “Grandma helped Mr. Holcomb, while he used his Army doctoring to stitch the gashes.”

“Ow. Sounds painful, Belinda.”