Mad Girls In Love (5 page)

Alice Ann turned to me. “She likes it. You better get the recipe from Sally. When I grow up, I'm getting out of here. I want to be an actress.”

The girl's chatter was getting a little too friendly, and I was afraid of what I might say. So I stepped over to the car and traced one finger along the hood. Alice Ann cupped one hand under the baby's chin, catching the crumbs. “My grandmother's name's Eunice,” the child continued. “But next week, she's sending me to a school in Arkansas. It's way up in the Ozarks.”

“That should be nice.” I squatted next to a tire, wishing I knew what to look for.

“It won't.” Alice Ann frowned. “I'm trying to worm out of it. I
don't
want to go.”

Still keeping my eyes on the tire, I wondered if the girl's parents were alive—it didn't sound like it. But maybe she'd been left with her grandmother the way Violet had been left with Miss Gussie that time Aunt Clancy ran away. Well, it wasn't any of my business, and besides, if I probed, it might make the little girl even chattier—or worse, she might cry. Alice Ann did not look like the weepy type, but I wasn't taking any chances. It was better to wonder about a person than to ask questions and stir up sadness. I had an idea that the child was like Violet—tough and silent, old for her years. The type who never volunteered personal information. There were still things I myself didn't know about my cousin and probably never would—especially since I had become a fugitive.

“Has this car ever broken down?” I asked Alice Ann. “Tell the truth.”

“It never did on Granny. But Eunice was fibbing to you some.” Alice Ann wiped a stray piece of cookie from the baby's chin. “She drove it now and then to flush out the engine. Odell says if you let a car set up, the tires'll go flat and the engine'll rot. Then you got to call Triple A.”

“You know a lot about cars.”

“Odell told me. He owned the dealership on Poplar, but he sold it last year.”

“Where's Odell now?”

“Golfing. He can't take Eunice's card parties. They get rowdy. And they last for hours. So you might as well find you a shady spot and get comfortable. You're liable to be here awhile.”

“I can't stay. I've got errands, so I'll just come back later.” I reached for my baby. She rested her head in the curve of my neck.

“We'll be here,” Alice Ann said. “Just don't take too long.”

 

Before I checked out of the Peabody, I drew up a plan. First, I bought a map in the gift shop. Next, I called Eunice to ask if I could test drive the Cadillac, but Alice Ann answered. “I'll be there in an hour or so,” I told the girl.

“I'll be waiting,” she said.

After I hung up, I bent the credit cards until they broke. Then I flushed the pieces down the toilet, hoping it didn't clog the Peabody's pipes. Now, I had to figure out what to do with the Corvette. I needed to leave it in a place that wouldn't attract attention, where it would blend in with hundreds of other cars. A mall parking lot might work, but the airport would be even better. It was near Graceland, so after leaving the hotel I got onto the highway and started looking for signs. Jennifer began to fuss, pulling at her hair—the same thing my mother did when she was frustrated. I reached out and grabbed the baby's foot, hoping to distract her. “We're going to see airplanes,” I said, trying to sound peppy, like Mr. Rogers. Jennifer responded by yanking out a fistful of hair. Then she lowered her fist and stared at the white-blond strands.

I angled into the lane marked Long Term Parking and pulled a ticket from the machine. The gate lifted and I drove into the lot. The humidity was intense, but I told myself to get used to a warm climate. In the heat-warped light, the vehicles in the lot seemed to sway as if the colors were melting. I parked next to a red Volvo, tucked the ticket behind the visor, then pushed the keys under the mat. A month from now, maybe longer, it would be noticed. By the time it was traced back to Claude, Jennifer and I would be out of reach.

As I got out of the car, an airplane passed over, stirring up a hot breeze. It smelled of fuel. I lifted the baby, who was still clutching the tufts of hair, seat and all, into one arm, then grabbed the suitcase with my other. I struggled across the shimmering parking lot, stopping several times to rearrange my load. The blistering wind snapped the hem of my dress, ruffling it above my knees, but I couldn't push it down. Jennifer was hanging on to the neckline of my dress, her head swiveling each time an airplane passed overhead.

“Ya!” she screeched, then opened her fist. The fine hairs were sucked up by the wind.

 

When the cab turned down Tulip Lane, the bridge players' cars were still lined up along the curb in front of Eunice's house. I paid the driver, feeling terrible about the miserly tip, and then lifted the baby into my arms and got out, pulling my suitcase and the car seat onto the sidewalk. Jennifer peered over my shoulder, watching the seat. “Ba-drang,” she said gravely.

The cabbie gave me the finger and sped off, his tires squealing. Leaving the suitcase on the walkway, I grabbed the car seat with my free hand, dragged it up to the porch, and rang the bell. Once again, Eunice opened the door. This time, instead of holding a napkin, she clutched cards. The backs were printed with magnolia blossoms. Inside, laughter floated out, spiky and harsh. A glass broke and someone yelled, “
Whoops!”

“You're back!” Eunice said gaily, fanning herself with the cards. Her curls bobbled up and down. “Alice Ann said you'd called again. In fact, she was playing in the garage, waiting for y'all to get here.”

“Is she there now?” I glanced toward the driveway. “I'd like to tell her 'bye.”

“Oh, honey, they ain't no telling.” Eunice laughed. Then her face fell. “You didn't come back for the car? You came all this way to see Alice Ann?”

“No, I want it, but first I'd like to do a test drive.”

“Yes, yes. That'll be just fine.” A tinkly laugh drifted up from Eunice's throat. “You go on to the garage, sugar. I'll be out in a jiffy.”

I stepped up to the garage. The door was still open, and a shaft of sun shone down on the Cadillac's hood, turning the metal a rich iridescent green. “Alice Ann?” I called. There was no answer. A mockingbird twittered from a branch, mimicking a cardinal. Eunice waddled down the back steps, right foot, right foot. She had ditched the cards and was clutching the keys to her chest.

“Did you find Alice Ann?” Eunice called.

“No, ma'am.”

“Well, it's no wonder. She's
just
like her mother. Can't stay put. Gotta keep moving. But Alice Ann's real smart—she gets that from my side of the family. My son was a straight-A student. Alice Ann is so bright the teachers don't know what to do with her. She's a pint-size actress, too.” Eunice rolled her eyes. “It's just the hardest thing in the world sometimes. Well, here're the keys, sugar.”

“First let me see if the baby seat fits,” I said, dragging it over to the passenger side.

“I was wondering what that was.” Eunice pointed to the padded chair. “In my day, we let the children stand up. That's what I did with Alice Ann, and somehow she survived.”

“Yes, ma'am. I just like to be safe is all.” I shrugged. “Would you mind holding the baby while I buckle in the seat?”

“Hand the little darling right over.” Eunice reached for Jennifer, making a clucking nose, then scooped her out of my arms. The baby watched Eunice's mouth, then she let out an indignant screech.

“My, she's got good lungs,” Eunice said, letting Jennifer play with the keys. “Alice Ann had good ones, too. Lord, I'd be out in the yard, and I could hear her crying from her crib. Even now, when she gets mad at me, she has a fit. She'll scream until she gets her way.”

“She's lived with you a long time?” I asked, reaching out to open the Cadillac's door. The door creaked open, and I set the baby seat inside. While I secured it with the seat belt, I breathed in the stale air, mothballs and dust and peppermint candy. I glanced into the backseat and saw a tartan blanket on the floor. I started to reach for it, but Jennifer began to whimper. I turned and held out my hands.

“I've had Alice Ann since she was a tiny girl,” Eunice said, depositing the baby into my arms. “Her mother would drop her off and just disappear.”

Eunice raised one hand and swirled her fingers in the air, as if demonstrating the capricious nature of Alice Ann's mother. “My son married himself a lowdown girl from the Gulf Coast. She said she was a stripper, but I don't know for sure. Well, you know how the young people are. They fall in love at the drop of a hat. After Alice Ann was born, my son got sent to Vietnam. His helicopter got shot down in 1967, the same year that Mother bought this Cadillac.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell about my brother Mack, who'd lost his leg in the Tet Offensive but I stopped myself.

“The Air Force
says
my son was missing in action, but his body was never found.”

“What happened to your daughter-in-law?”

“Well, it's a sad story. One day she dropped Alice Ann off with a pink Barbie case. She was planning to head down to Biloxi and work as a Lord-knows-what. Then she waved good-bye and drove her car straight into the Mississippi River.” Eunice's eyebrows slanted angrily and her cheeks flushed red. “On
purpose
, if you ask me. A witness said she never hit her brake. She drove through the railing. I just thank the Lord that she didn't have Alice Ann with her.”

“Poor little thing.” I shuddered.

“Just between you and me, she can be a rascal.” Eunice laughed. “Now crank up that engine, dear. Take a spin around the block. Here's the keys. The big one is for the ignition, and the square one is for the trunk and the doors.”

I strapped the baby into the car seat. Then I hurried around the Cadillac, slid into the driver's seat, and fitted the key into the ignition. The engine turned over on the first try. I didn't know anything about automobiles, but it seemed to run smoothly. Outside the car, I could hear Eunice chatting away. I glanced at the dashboard clock. If it was correct—nearly six o'clock—then I was behind schedule. I'd planned to drive south, straight through the heart of Mississippi. My plan was to reach Baton Rouge, Louisiana, before dark, but that city was 382 miles from Memphis. I'd be lucky to reach Jackson by nine o'clock.

“Actually, I don't need a test drive. I'll just take it,” I said, reaching for my purse. I counted bills out of Claude's wallet and handed them over to Eunice.

“Are you sure?” Eunice looked shocked.

“Yes, ma'am. I've made up my mind.” I continued to hold out the money, smiling up at the woman. “Besides, you need to get back to your party.”

“Well, that's true.” Eunice took the money, rolling it into a tight cylinder. “It's got new Bridgestone tires. And Odell just changed the oil for me. It shouldn't give you a moment's trouble. But I can't guarantee that it won't act up. It's been setting up a long time. But if you change your mind and decide you don't want the car—”

“I won't.”

“Well, dear, I hope not. Because as far as I'm concerned, a deal's a deal,” she said, suddenly all business. “Odell doesn't believe in giving refunds.”

“I won't need one,” I said.

“All right.” She smiled and ran one hand through her hair, looking distracted.

“Please tell Alice Ann that I said good-bye,” I said, shifting into drive.

“Oh, I will.” She nodded. “It was so nice meeting you, dear.”

I turned up the air-conditioning as far as it would go, then I put the car in reverse and pressed my foot against the accelerator. The car slowly rolled out of the garage. Eunice walked alongside it, like she couldn't bear to see it go. At the end of the driveway I stopped the Cadillac, opened the trunk, and threw in the luggage. I waved at Eunice again as I got back into the car then angled it into the street, and waved once more. Eunice was standing in the driveway, her hands clasped under her chin. She lifted one hand. Then I turned a corner and the woman dropped out of sight.

At dusk, on the outskirts of Jackson, Mississippi, I drove past a sign: You Are Now Entering Hinds County. At least the baby was sleeping; good, because the traffic was starting to get heavy, and that made me nervous. I glanced into the rearview mirror, and lights from an oncoming car swept into the backseat, shining onto the forehead of the little red-headed girl. The child's eyes cut to the mirror and met mine. I screamed, then stamped on the brake. The Cadillac skidded into the other lane. A car honked, and I grabbed the wheel and swerved back into my lane.

“Alice Ann?” I yelled, and Jennifer's head jerked up, eyes blinking open.

“Hey,” Alice Ann said, waving.

“How did you
get
here?”

“I ran away.”

“No, I meant, how did you get in this car?”

“Hid under this.” She lifted the tartan blanket. “I'm wringing wet with sweat.”

“Well, I'm taking you back,” I said, switching on the blinker, guiding the car into the exit ramp. “Your poor grandmother is probably worried sick.”

“I
won't
go.” She scooted over to the door, grasped the handle. “I'll throw myself out.”

“Let me slow down first,” I said, trying to hide my panic. I suspected that she'd used this method before—the shock technique. When Claude Wentworth had been small, he'd controlled his mother by threatening to jump out of her Lincoln Town Car. Straight ahead, I could see a busy intersection. The traffic light turned yellow, and I patted the brake. I glanced at the car beside me, a yellow Studebaker, driven by a pretty brunette. Her hair was wind-tossed to perfection, and she wore tortoise-shell glasses. She frowned up at the traffic light, tapping one manicured nail on the steering wheel. I wondered if she knew how quickly her life could change. I wanted to roll down my window and tell her that a day or two ago, I'd been coasting through life with nothing but green lights.

The traffic light changed. I pulled into the parking lot of a hardware store and stopped the car. “All right,” I said. “You can get out. Just be careful.”

“You can't just dump me here,” said Alice Ann. “I'm your new child.”

“No, you're Eunice's child.”

“She's too old to have a little girl.” Alice Ann crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes. “But you're not.”

“Alice Ann, do you know what kidnapping is?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that's what the police will call this.”

“I don't care.” She poked out her bottom lip. “No matter what you say, I'm not going back. Eunice doesn't want me. Besides, she was going to dump me off at a private school.”

“You might like it.”

“I'll
hate
it. Nothing but c-r-a-z-i-e girls go there. The nuns make you wear uniforms and eat Cream of Wheat. It gags me.” She reached and grabbed her throat, poking out her tongue.

“Crazy's got a y at the end,” I said, “not an i-e.”

“Who are you, my fifth-grade teacher?” Alice Ann rolled her eyes. “Look, Eunice hates me. You're doing both me and her a favor.”

“Grandmothers don't hate their grandchildren.”

“No? When I act up, Eunice goes outside, breaks off a thin willow branch, and switches my legs.”

I tapped my fingers on the seat, trying to gauge the truth behind Alice Ann's escape. Way off in the distance, I saw glimmering neon arches, McDonald's, but I couldn't reach it from this road. I would have to get back on the interstate, fighting the traffic, and take the next exit. I shifted into drive and circled back the way I'd come.

“Where you going now?” Alice Ann began to bounce up and down.

“I'm driving to a restaurant,” I said. “We'll eat supper, and then I'm calling Eunice.”

“Fine, I'll tell her you kidnapped me.”

“She'll know better,” I said. “She saw me drive off.”

“I'll tell her you knocked me off my bicycle and stole me. That you conked me on the head and threw me into the trunk. That you kidnapped me to babysit Jennifer.”

“She won't buy that.”

“She will, too,” Alice Ann said. “That's not all. She forgot to give you the title.”

I sucked in air, too startled to respond.

“There's more,” she continued. “Your license tag says 274463X, Shelby County. Bet you didn't know that. And the tags expired last year. But don't worry. I fixed it up with shoe polish. I turned 1971 into 1972. Wasn't that smart?”

“Brilliant,” I said.

“But I can't do nothing about the title.” She leaned forward, her breath hot in my ear. “I sure hope your mind doesn't drift like Eunice's, or else I'll be calling the shots for you, too.”

“I'm tempted to put you out of this car right now,” I said.

“Do it.” She folded her arms. “I don't care. I'll just hitch a ride. And if a policeman stops, I'll tell him what you did.”

“I haven't done anything yet,” I said, but I was already planning my telephone conversation with Eunice when I called her from McDonald's. Then I'd leave Alice Ann in the custody of the manager and explain how the child had stowed herself in the car. The minute Alice Ann opened her mouth, anyone would know she was a smarty-pants schemer. Then Jennifer and I would drive south. The more miles I put between myself and Alice Ann, the better. I could imagine the girl talking to the police, rattling off a description of the Cadillac, along with the tag number. In no time flat, I would be caught and dragged back to Crystal Falls. But I had to risk it.

Turning back onto the interstate, I peeked into the mirror. Alice Ann was staring out the window, humming “This Old Man,” making every other word rhyme with kidnapped. I hated to steal a license tag, but it looked as if I had no choice. A tag could be switched in the parking lot of any Howard Johnson's. Although I couldn't leave the old one behind. That would make things too easy for the police. I could use a fingernail file to unscrew it. Now I was even starting to
think
like a criminal. And I didn't want this sort of life for Jennifer. My baby was supposed to grow up with girl friends and slumber parties, her own princess telephone in the bedroom. She would not only speak French, she would tour France, all the places I had only imagined. As the child of a kidnapper/murderess (not that I was either one), my daughter would be destined for a double-wide trailer—or, God forbid, a foster home.

I pressed my foot against the gas pedal, wishing the McDonald's sign wasn't so far away. From the backseat, Alice Ann said, “Uh-oh. A cop's on your tail.”

I glanced over my shoulder, and sure enough, a blue light was filling up the rear window. Jennifer held out one hand, tried to grab it.

“See what happens when you go over the speed limit?” Alice Ann said. “That's against the law.”

“Yeah? Well, it's a good thing. I'll just hand you over to the cop.” I tapped the brake, steering into the gravel breakdown lane. Cars whizzed past the Cadillac, their taillights blinking red.

Alice Ann began to sing “This Old Man” again, making up the lyrics. “You don't have a tit-le. You will go-o straight to jail, where thieves and con men will pinch your tail—”

“Will you hush?” I cried. “Don't you say another word. Don't even open your mouth.”

Alice Ann spread her lips apart with her fingers and opened her mouth as wide as she could.

In the side mirror, I watched the officer approach. He was tall and lanky, with a beaked nose. As he leaned over, peering into the car, heat lightning flashed behind him. The sky lit up with muddy clouds, then faded to black. A speeding ticket would prove that I'd been on this interstate. It would list the make and license number of the Cadillac.

“You were going sixty-two in a fifty-mile zone,” he said, glancing at Jennifer, then back at Alice Ann. “That's not real wise, considering your cargo.”

“Well, we're starving. I was just trying to make it to McDonald's.” I laughed theatrically and rolled my eyes.

He reached up, tipped back his hat, and squinted down the interstate, toward the crooked row of neon signs. It looked as if a drunken farmer had planted them. Shoney's, Arby's, Best Western, McDonald's, Holiday Inn.

“We've just been driving forever,” I said, and Alice Ann kicked the back of my seat.

“Where you good people headed?” He spoke with a deep baritone. I imagined him quizzing his daughter, if he had a teenage daughter, asking the girl why she'd missed her curfew. I tried to think of a nearby town, but this part of the country was foreign to me.

“We're just…” I paused. Behind the officer I saw a green sign, Hazlehurst 33 miles. “We're going to Hazlehurst,” I said a beat too fast. I wondered if he'd seen my eyes shift behind him.

He had. From his car, the police radio crackled. “You got folks down in Copiah County?” he asked, shuffling one foot in the gravel.

I nodded, but I didn't think this was a state-trooperish question. Alice Ann began bouncing up and down. “Copiah County,” she sang. “Elevation 479 feet. And the air is ever so sweet.”

“You're a smart young lady.” The officer smiled.

“A genius,” I said.

The officer's smile faded as he turned his gaze on me. “All the more reason to drive careful, miss,” he said, tipping back his hat.

“Yes, sir,” I said, my voice squeaking.

“Your driver's license and registration, please?”

I blinked. Then I glanced at the glove compartment, wondering if Eunice had, by some miracle, added the registration. I leaned across the seat, pressing my arm against the baby's chubby legs, and clicked open the glove box. It was immaculate: a box of pink tissues, an oil change record, a folded map of Tennessee. In the backseat, Alice Ann giggled. I slammed the glove box, and sat straight up. I reached for my purse, but I couldn't find my wallet. And it had been there when I'd stopped for gas near Oxford. I knew it was illegal to be driving without a license and registration.

Alice Ann leaned forward, laying her freckled cheek against the back of my seat. She twirled one braid. “Mommy, you left your billfold in your other purse. It's got your driver's license and registration, and even the title. But Daddy can bring it to Hazlehurst when he comes.”

She looked up at the officer and smiled, showing the gap between her teeth. “Please don't give us a ticket, sir. My Aunt Eunice just had herself a new baby boy and we're going down to help. That's why we're in a hurry. Isn't that true, Mommy?”

She lifted her braid and painted the side of my face. I tried to smile, but my lips were trembling. To hide the twitching, I covered my mouth with my hand and nodded. Jennifer cackled. She grabbed her foot and shoved it into her mouth. Then she gave the officer an engaging smile. “Please, sir,” crooned Alice Ann, aiming the tip of her braid at him. “Give us
one
more chance. It's my fault she was speeding. I was being a brat. Boohooing and kicking the back of her seat. 'Cause I was starving. I'm always starving. ‘Drive faster, Mommy,' I told her. I won't never do that again, Officer Nugent. I've learned my lesson.”

I glanced at the patrolman's shirt—that was his name, all right, spelled out on his platinum badge.

“Where do y'all live?” he asked.

“Memphis,” said Alice Ann. “Memphis, Tennessee. While we're in Hazlehurst, Daddy's getting a neighbor boy to feed the dog.”

“What kind of dog you got, sugar?”

“Oh, he's the cutest thing! He's half pug, half Chihuahua. And real, real funny-looking. His name is Sneaky. Like some people can be?” Alice Ann leaned out the window. She grinned up at the officer, lifting her braid and letting it speak like a puppet. “Please, Officer Nugent. Pretty please? Let the nice people go. They'll be good. They'll drive
under
the speed limit.”

The officer laughed and stepped back from the Cadillac. Then he pointed one finger at me. “I'll let you go, just this once. Now you drive careful. You hear me little lady?”

“Yes, sir.” I nodded vigorously.

“Thank you,” Alice Ann sang.

“All right, then.” The officer gave Alice Ann a two-finger salute, then he walked back to his cruiser and climbed inside. After a moment the blue lights stopped flashing. I took a deep breath, then grabbed the wheel and shifted into drive. When the traffic thinned out, I touched my foot to the gas pedal, and the Cadillac shot out of the breakdown lane, onto I-55. Glancing into the rearview mirror, I saw that the trooper hadn't moved. Alice Ann leaned against the window, her arms propped under her head, and she resumed singing “This Old Man.” Her voice rose up into the car, a child's voice, light and sweet. I drove cautiously, passing right by the exit for McDonald's. The singing abruptly stopped.

“Ain't we stopping to eat?” Alice Ann cried, turning to stare out the rear window.

“I'll stop later.” I looked down at the speedometer. It hovered just below 55.

“At Hazlehurst, Mommy?” She began laughing, then she fell over sideways, slapping the seat. “Was I good, or was I
good
?”

“Terrific,” I said. “Better than Shirley Temple.”

“I saved you back there, so you better keep me.”

“I'd rather keep a rattlesnake.”

“I memorized Officer Nugent's badge number.” She leaned forward again, hanging on to the back of the seat. “You get rid of me now, I'll tell him all about you.”

“You don't know doodly about me.”

“Oh yes, I do.
Lillian Beatrice.
” She held up my blue vinyl wallet. I reached back for it, but Alice Ann scooted away. She perched on the seat, drawing her legs up to her pointed chin and popped open the wallet. “Relax, Lillian. Is it Wentworth or McDougal? You've got ID for both names. Isn't that illegal? Are you some kind of con man?”