Saving Cicadas (15 page)

And then Rainey spoke up.

Sitting there at the old oak table with fancy plates hanging on the wall, Rainey looked over at Uncle Fritz in between mouthfuls of noodles and said, “You look like Grandma Mona.”

I was shocked she'd said it so brazen and equally happy she'd brought it up. I watched his face to see what he'd say. I wasn't sure if he could understand her or not, so I repeated for him, “She says you look like Grandma Mona.”

Fritz looked at Rainey, baffled or amazed, like she was real smart and had figured out a puzzle. In his confusion, he looked even more like his mama, who was sitting beside him on the right.

“Oh gracious, here we go,” said Grandma Mona. And she picked up her plate and carried it to the kitchen. “Call me when y'all are done. I'll be out back.”

I looked at Poppy and Mama, then Fritz. He'd set his napkin in his lap and looked to be thinking about folding it up again. Mama cleared her throat and said, “You know, it's funny you brought that up, honey. There's a picture upstairs of my mother that looks the spitting image of Fritz right now.” She looked at him for help maybe.

“Rainey,” said Fritz. “I've got a secret to tell you. A really neat secret. Your mama and I . . . we share the same mother. That's why I look like her, your Grandma Mona. Your mama and I are brother and sister.”

I'd been suspecting as much, what with Mama calling him Uncle Fritz and all, and I was eager to show my smarts with a question. “And Poppy?” I asked. “Poppy's your daddy too?”

“No sweetie, I'm not his father,” said Poppy, and my noodles liked to slipped right out of my mouth.

Chapter Twenty-one
THE PAST LIFE OF GRANDMA MONA

“Who your daddy?” asked Rainey, not real impressed with any of Fritz's announcements. She grabbed her glass of iced tea with both hands, concentrating on not letting it fall. The condensation dripped down to the table and left a big wet spot on the wood. Rainey slurped.

“Apparently, my mother,” said Mama, “was married to another man before she met my father. It's not anything she ever talked about. I'm not even sure Daddy knew about it.”

“Yes, I knew about it,” Poppy said. “I just didn't like to talk about it much. Or think about it. It was your mother's private business.”

“Grandma Mona was married?!” I found it strangely unsettling to think of my grandma having a life with another man before Poppy. It made me feel icky inside and unglued.

“I was born,” said Fritz, putting his elbows on the table around his plate, “while my father was away, fighting a war. My mother, your Grandma Mona, got news he'd been killed in action, and well, rightly so, she fell apart. She didn't think she could care for a baby all by herself, so she put me up for adoption. I was adopted and raised by a very loving couple, Sue and Christopher Rosier, whom I called Mom and Dad.”

I couldn't take this in right. It wasn't quite jibing with me. Not only was Grandma Mona married before Poppy, but she had a little baby boy, Fritz, right there in front of me, all grown up. And she'd given him away? How could somebody do that?

“She gave you away?” I asked, flummoxed. “You were a little baby, and she just gave you away?”

All of a sudden, Rainey started crying. Her up-slanted eyes got even slantier.

“Don't cry, honey,” Mama said. “There's nothing to cry about. Your uncle Fritz here had a wonderful life. Right?”

“I did! I absolutely did. The best. Wonderful parents. I went to school, I even went to seminary. Why, do you know I have a church right here in town where I preach on Sundays? Would you like to come there with me sometime?”

Rainey sniffled and nodded a little, but I wasn't going to let this go just yet.

“How come I never knew about you?” I asked Fritz. “Mama never mentioned she had a brother.”

“She didn't know,” said Poppy. “I didn't either, for that matter. Not until Fritz here came to find his mother years later. He was twenty-three at the time, I believe. Priscilla was fifteen. We'd just moved out to Yuma.”

“When I finished seminary, Rainey, I felt called to go and look for my birth parents. I found my mother after six months. She was remarried to your grandfather, Grayson Macy.”

“That's right,” said Poppy. “Now listen, there's something I want you to know about your Grandma Mona. Just because she had a family before doesn't mean she loved me or Priscilla any less. She's a good woman. She really is. And she did what she thought was best for her son at the time. She thought her husband had died in the war.”

“But my father hadn't died in the war like they told my mother,” said Fritz. “He'd been captured. And when he finally did come home, well, the marriage just fell apart after all that had passed, after I'd come and gone. I never did meet him. He died before I could track him down.”

“It was terrible timing,” said Mama, putting her hand lightly on Fritz's hand. “Sometimes God and babies have terrible timing, don't they?”

“I know what this is about!” I squealed. “You're gonna give our baby away, aren't you?” I put my head down and sulked, face in my plate.

“Don't give baby 'way, Mama!” Rainey wailed, hands over her ears. “I want the baby Jesus! I want the baby!”

“Oh—” Mama inhaled and covered her mouth, fretting. Then she excused herself real quick to go to the bathroom, her chair falling off the edge of the rug and scraping the floor.

“Maybe this was all too much too soon,” said Fritz.

Poppy, Fritz, and I were left trying to console Rainey. I was finding it awful hard to do, seeing as I was the one who needed consoling. And then when she stopped crying and I looked at Fritz and Poppy, tears in their eyes and such, I felt sad for the whole wide world—that women lost husbands and had to give babies away. That babies grew up wondering who their parents were. That Grandma Mona, the meanest lady I ever met, was maybe not as mean as I might have been, had I suffered all that she had.

And I ran out on the porch to find her. I hugged her harder than ever before. I pressed, and I cried, and she hugged me back for the first time in years, and I prayed that just by touching her warm skin, I could somehow take her hurting away.

Chapter Twenty-two
THE LADIES OF FOREST PINES

The green room glowed with the blue of nightfall. Out of a little arched window above the curtains, I could see the stars out in full, but the moon had withered to near nothing. There was a faint smell of mothballs on my pillow. “Rainey?” I said, the sound of my voice settling on the air.

“What?”

“Are you scared . . . about being in this house?”

“No.” She answered with no hesitation.

“Me neither,” I said. “I thought I might be, with the ghost and all. But I think I like it here. I hope we stay a long, long time.”

“Me too.”

I turned over and closed my eyes. I reached my hand up on Rainey's mattress and touched her on the arm.

“Huh?” she breathed.

“What do you think of Fritz, I mean, being Mama's brother and all? Grandma Mona, Poppy, Mama . . . nobody ever said a thing about him. Do you think it's true?”

Rainey stayed quiet a minute, and I thought she might have gone to sleep until she said, “When baby comes, I gonna be the big sister.” “I'm gonna be a big sister, too, you know,” I said.

“Nope,” she said.

“Yes I am.”

“Huh-uh.”

“I am too!” Rainey usually never made me mad, but I was steamed. Here I was, trying to be all happy and hopeful in this house which had been in the Macy family for so long, and my sister chose this moment to make me feel small, hardly a part of the family at all. So I said, “When the baby comes, Mama's gonna let me hold it first.”

I waited to hear how my words had stung her, but all I heard was Rainey's breath. It grew heavier and slower as her mind drifted away.

I couldn't sleep. There were noises in the old house. Squirrels scurried on the rooftop, and the fan above me clicked every time it made it all the way around. But I wasn't scared. I reached under my pillow and set out to find my mother.

Her room was across the hall and to the left. The door was open a little, so I spied at first. A little light glowed from beneath the pink shade of a small lamp. The window looked out over the front lawn and a large bushy tree, I wasn't sure what kind. My mother had some reading glasses on, and she was propped up in bed reading a book with no picture on the cover. The glasses were dark brown, square, and fit her low on the nose. They gave her a wise look and reminded me of Poppy for some reason.

I squeezed in the door and she glanced up. “Hey, Mama,” I said. “This is a really neat house. I'm glad we're here.”

Mama took the glasses off and nodded. She studied them and put them on the nightstand. “Oh, goodness, what it means to be back. I always did love this house.”

She set her book down too, and I saw the gold letters,
Of Mice and Men
by John Steinbeck. I'd never seen Mama reading a book like that with no man on the front. But seeing her here, and not at home, it looked right. Funny how it seemed a person could change into whatever surroundings she was in, like a chameleon.

“Time for bed, young lady,” Mama said in a funny low voice. Almost like she was imitating Poppy.

“I know, I just . . . well, I wanted to give you this.” I pulled out my list of options for her and set it on the nightstand right beside
Of Mice and Men
. I flattened it out real well, and Mama looked at it. Then at me. “It's not much,” I apologized, “but it's got two options for you, pros and cons, just like you taught me. I know there's another one but I'm not clear on it yet, so when I am, I'll add it. Okay? Maybe this can help you for now . . . deciding about the baby and all.”

Mama took a deep breath and closed her eyes tight. I wondered if I'd upset her, taking it upon myself to get in her business. She thought a minute, then said, “Thanks, I needed this.”

“You're welcome, Mama. Oh, and . . . if you keep the baby, maybe you should let Rainey hold it first. I think she'd like that.”

Mama held her tummy and turned out the light.

“Good night.” I warmed all over from head to foot and went out feeling that even though Mama's load was heavy, I'd done my part in helping her carry it, if only a little.

Next morning, I had barely opened my eyes when I saw Poppy standing above me, chipper and dressed in his usual ensemble, brown slacks and shoes, white short-sleeve button-up shirt, and red bow tie. There was always a gleam in his eye, too, but this morning it was as if the sunlight was coming from him and not the window.

“Girls? What do you say we go for a little walk?”

I smelled sausage and coffee, and everything looked different, the light fixture, the wallpaper. It took me a minute to realize where I was, this being the third different bed in as many nights. When I realized I was in this pretty place with so much to explore, a feeling welled up in me like I might burst. “I'll go!” I hollered.

“Me too,” said Rainey, trying to wake up.

“Good. Get dressed and come on down to the kitchen. We'll have a bite and then set off on an adventure.”

“Where are we going?”

“Well, I can't exactly say . . .” he said, “but I have it on good authority there's a library within walking distance.”

“The library!” I jumped up on the bed and hooted. The library was my most favorite place, so quiet, so many books, a different life in every one. You could stay there for hours and never look at the same thing twice. And, the library was free. In Mama's book, that made for a real good time. At home we went about every month to the library so Mama could stock up on romances. She traded them back and forth with Alisha.

We did as Poppy asked, and by nine o'clock we were off and exploring, Poppy, Rainey, and me. Every house on Vinca Lane had crape myrtles, tall and reaching up, white and pink heavy blossoms dipping down like fruit and tickling us as we walked. Pink petals littered the street curb. Every house had color, every yard, flowers. There were no wire fences, no barking dogs tied to stakes, no dried mud rivers waiting to melt with the next rain. Vinca Lane was nothing like our street in Cypresswood, and seeing this place made me see our house for what it really was.

Funny, I'd always thought we lived real nice.

We passed the yellow house where we'd first seen that old woman sweeping the porch. Today she was sitting in a fancy hammock made for one, hanging from the porch ceiling. More like she was wrestling with it, hands and bony arms poking out every which way.

“Mrs. Shoemaker, that you?” asked Poppy, being real polite.

“Yeah, it's me,” she growled. “Who'd you think it was?”

“I just . . . it looks like you might need a hand.”

“Naw, no, I got it. I . . . Oh, come on, then, and hurry it up. Help me outta this crazy co'traption. What was she thinkin', anyway? This ain't restful.”