Saving Cicadas (16 page)

Poppy walked us across the street and up to Mrs. Shoemaker's porch. Somehow, she'd sunk a leg in crossways and looked like a crab stuck in a shrimp net. Rainey and I stood there on the sidewalk, a healthy distance away, trying not to laugh. For two folks who didn't seem to care much for one another, there sure was an awful lot of grunting and limbs and carrying on.

After Mrs. Shoemaker was free, she caught my eye and scrutinized me. Then Rainey. Poppy said, “These are my two granddaughters, Rainey and Janie.”

“That rhymes,” said Mrs. Shoemaker. Her white hair had pulled loose from bobby pins like strands of yarn across her brow. She wore an apron covering a brown housedress. “I don't like it when names rhyme.”

Poppy looked at us and did one of those funny eye rolls, letting us know Mrs. Shoemaker wasn't all there and not to take her seriously. She must have seen him do it because she turned uglier all of a sudden.

“I see you got one reg'lar grandbaby and one . . . special one.” She said
special
like it was something nasty.

“Don't say nothin' about my sister!” She really set me off.

“It's okay,” Poppy said. “She didn't mean it.”

“But it's not nice to make fun like that,” I said.

Mrs. Shoemaker was pointing a shaky hand our way, and I was itching to let her have it again. “That one's got her grandma's spunk, I see. All I meant was—”

“We'll just be going now,” said Poppy. “We're on our way to the library.”

“I gonna see books,” said Rainey. “They got all kinds . . .” She put her hand up and counted fingers. “Picture books, word books, Bible books . . . I gonna get the book.”

“That's real nice,” said Mrs. Shoemaker, apparently trying to make up for her meanness.

We started to walk away when Poppy stopped and addressed her again. “I see you're back. It's been a while, hasn't it? You staying with your daughter?”

“Yep. Been a while. I reckon she needs some help 'round here. Not much an old lady can do, though. I see you're back too. Must be nice, having all the family together. Don't know how you can stand Miss Mona, though.”

“Oh Clarabelle, you two are like oil and water. I'll be sure and give Mona your love and kisses.”

“Tell her she can kiss my—”

“Bye now, Clarabelle.”

I turned back around and watched the old lady watching us go. Then I stared down at my feet. I knew I'd been ill-mannered, mouthing off to a grown-up and all.

“She wasn't very nice,” I said.

“You weren't very nice to her, either,” said Poppy.

“But she said—”

“It doesn't matter, Janie. People say things all the time. What's important is to know
why
they say those things. You need to look at people the same way God does . . . look on the inside.”

“She's probably got worms and stinky cheese on the inside.”

“Janie Doe Macy.” He said my name to shut me up, but I sort of liked the way he said it. 'Fact, I didn't mind him fussing at me neither. I was just glad somebody was paying attention to me in some fashion or another.

The sidewalk was old white concrete with cracks and crevices along it. Green grass and yellow daisies grew up from the cracks, and I remember thinking,
How amazing is it you can pour concrete on top, but that still don't stop the life from shooting up?
The flowers in the sidewalk spoke hope to me, and I took note of every single survivor. Then I heard a yelp.

Running up behind us, Mama came fussing like a mockingbird. “I asked you to wait for me! I told you I was finishing the dishes.”

“Sorry, Mama,” I said. “But Poppy—”

“Sorry, Mama,” said Rainey.

“It's all right. I like libraries too, you know. And this one, the one we're going to, is the very one I went to when I was little. Mama would let me go there by myself once I got older, and anytime I went missing, she could find me there. Sort of like your tree back home, Rainey.”

Mama looked nice this morning. She had a pretty flowered skirt on and a pink short-sleeved sweater set. It fit her snug, but her tummy wasn't big yet. I wondered how long before it got that way. Her hair was curled a little and she had flat navy shoes on. She didn't look anything like the Mama I knew back home in Cypresswood. I liked it. I wondered if there were some clothes here that I could put on too. Maybe in the attic? But no, I couldn't go up there, what with the ghost and all.

“Well, my stars and garters, is that Miss Priscilla Macy?” A cream-colored car rolled up to us at a stop sign, and a window came down. At the wheel was a lady with a jeweled headband covering curly brown hair. She was fancy with gold bangles on her wrist and pretty pink fingernails. The bracelets clinked when she shook her hand. “I declare, it
is
you! Why, look at you!”

“All grown up,” said Mama. “Kelsey Piper, how long has it been?” Mama's voice sounded different. There was a soft lilt I hadn't heard except when she'd talked with Mr. Carl a while back about buying our car. She smiled real nice and approached the window.

“It's been long enough for me to not be Kelsey Piper anymore. I'm married to a doctor now . . . Mrs. Kelsey Arielle.” She dangled her fingers at Mama to show she did indeed have a shiny ring.

To my knowledge, Mama never had a pretty ring like that one.

“How wonderful,” Mama said. “This here is Rainey.” She showed her off like,
see what I've done with
my
last seventeen years?

“Well, hello, Rainey. What a lovely name. Are you enjoying your time in Forest Pines?” Rainey nodded and looked at the sidewalk flowers. “I do hope you'll be staying here awhile.”

“We goin' to library,” said Rainey, not shy anymore. “They got books. I can read.”

Mrs. Kelsey Arielle melted and grinned. Rainey had that effect on people sometimes. If they chose to look at her and address her at all, they often swooned and carried on. It embarrassed me for her. “Oh, how lovely,” she said. “Of course you can read. And I adore the library. All those books!”

I looked over at Poppy waiting across the street for us. He grinned at me, and it gave me the gumption to speak. “I'm Janie,” I said. “I'm eight and a half, almost nine. I can read too.”

“So nice to meet yewww! And so nice to see you again, Priscilla. What a sweet family you have, and pretty as a picture. Listen, I know it's last-minute and all, but I'm having a little Bobby Sue get-together next Saturday. You think you girls could make it? The more the merrier.”

“I'm afraid not,” said Mama. “I don't—”

“Oh, come on, Mama, it'll be fun.” I was hoping this might be a nice friend for Mama to have. I liked her better than Alisha anyway. She smelled better. Drove a nicer car.

“Yeah, we gonna have fun,” said Rainey, putting her arm in Mama's and hugging her side.

“Oh . . .” Mama looked at Rainey and said, “All right, then. But I'm in between jobs right now, so—”

“Not to worry, you don't have to buy a thing,” said the lady. “I just want to catch up and spend some time. Oh, and there's door prizes.” “Next Saturday it is, then. Thank you.”

Mrs. Arielle clapped her hands together. “Perfect! Well, I won't keep you now, but we're at 154 Mercy Street. You know where that is? Big white house, can't miss it.”

“We'll see you there,” said Mama.

The car started rolling slowly, but Mrs. Arielle was waving her arm. “Twelve thirty, now. I can't wait to tell the girls. Bye-bi-iiiie!”

And off she went in her nice clean car. Mama waved, then pressed her hair down and straightened her dress. I couldn't tell if her face was flushed because she was hot or happy or pregnant or scared.

“Let's just keep going,” she said. “We're almost there.”

Chapter Twenty-three
THE LONGEST WALK EVER

The library was nothing like the one we had in Cypresswood, where a little-bitty building held a few books and a grumpy old man who couldn't see very well. For some reason he was always at the card catalog, looking for something he must have lost. This library was grand to walk up to, with big white columns out front and big letters across the top saying forest pines public li brary. The lawn was manicured, and a sidewalk down the middle to the front door made me feel like a princess approaching her castle. Reading books was a big deal here in Forest Pines, I could see.

Inside, there was a whole separate children's section with pictures of Dr. Seuss on the walls and colorful banners—stuffed animals, even. I headed straight for it. Rainey's eyes lit up, too, the second we walked in, but she headed for a place in the middle just past the checkout counter with long tables and computers lined up. “Mama, Google!” “Oh, super! All right, honey. You go ahead. I'm gonna be right over there. See those bookshelves? You need me, I'm right there.”

Rainey nodded and rushed to an empty chair. I decided to follow her. The picture books could wait. There was a young black man sitting across from Rainey, and a white-haired lady two seats down. I sat beside her and Poppy stood behind, hand on Rainey's shoulder. “Amazing what you can do with these computers today, isn't it?” he said.

“Uh-huh,” said Rainey, tongue sticking out. Somebody from before had left Internet Explorer up, and Rainey was already typing with her right index finger,
w
. . .
w
. . .
w
. . .

“What are you going to look up?” he asked her.

She paused as the page for Google came up. She liked this page more than Yahoo because it had less going on. Simpler was better for her. She could focus on the search box. “Um, I dunno.”

I looked over and saw Mama running her fingers along the edges of books in the fiction aisle. A nice-looking man with blond hair walked past her, but she was staring so hard at the books, she didn't even notice. He certainly noticed her, though, and turned around for a second glance, books in hand. Finally he walked to the checkout desk.

I thought about Mama. I thought about that man looking at her like she was so pretty, but I bet he had no idea about the secret inside her. I remembered that word Poppy had told us. “I know, type in
'bortion
. That's Mama's third choice!” I was thrilled to be able to help her even more. I wondered if her list was still on the nightstand, and was excited to figure this out so I could add it to it. “How do you spell it again?” I asked Poppy.

He sat down in a seat on the other side of Rainey, slow as if his joints ached. He took a deep breath. Then he said, “A-b-o-r . . .”

Rainey plunked her fat finger on every single letter, just as he said it. She was really good with the keyboard. But she must have hit “search images” because instead of a list of Web sites coming up, a gallery of pictures popped up, row after row after row.

I swallowed. Hard. This wasn't right. I was supposed to be seeing cute babies in fat tummies with beautiful angels taking them away. Instead I saw bloody, dead things.

Some ripped to pieces.

Tiny body parts lying over fingers.

Mangled baby faces.

Black and blue.

Red and white.

Fingers and legs with no bodies at all.

I thought I might throw up. Rainey started screaming at the top of her lungs, hands over her ears. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the computer screen.

All of a sudden people rushed over, the old lady with white hair, the black man sitting across the way, the people behind the checkout counter, the man with books who thought Mama was pretty, all of them trying to help Rainey out of her chair, and she was kicking and screaming, and Mama ran over and kneeled down. That's when she saw what we'd been looking at. They all did. Mama's face turned green, and she said, “It's all right. It's all right, honey, shhhhh.” She hugged Rainey tight and screamed, “Somebody turn it off! Turn it off!” and Poppy and I watched Mama's face as she looked at those pictures on the screen. Baby after baby after baby. Her face scrunched up while she was holding Rainey's head, and all of a sudden, Mama fell back on the floor, passed out cold. Rainey thought she'd died and so she wailed even longer and harder, and it took five people to carry her outdoors where whisper voices weren't needed.

After a couple minutes, an ambulance came and put Mama in it, though she didn't want to go. “I'm all right, I mean it. I just got lightheaded.” She must have been forceful enough because after a while and a glass of water, they let Mama go, and Poppy, Rainey, Mama, and me walked home, slow and quiet, eyes still burning with what we'd seen, souls scarred and changed forever.

It was the longest walk I could ever remember.

Chapter Twenty-four
CONFESSION

“Fritz?” I could hear Mama whispering on the telephone. I was coming into the kitchen to get a sip of water, but I waited at the door. I knew it might not be right to listen but I didn't feel like myself anymore. I was still numbed from the library, my spirit lifeless like Rainey's poor magic cicada.

“I need to talk to you,” Mama said. “It's important.” She was standing up, arms crossed over her chest, her head leaned against the wall. She was sniffling and got off the phone right quick. I came in after and acted like I hadn't heard, just grabbed my water and headed out to the garden. Mama sat there at the kitchen table and didn't move a muscle. If she knew I was even there, she didn't let on. She was in her own little world.

I wondered what she needed to talk to Uncle Fritz about. Was she going to tell him what had happened today? If so, I didn't want to be anywhere around. I went out back and found Poppy rocking on the porch. He was eyeing the garden like it was his kingdom. He didn't look over at me when I took the other seat, but I could see his face was troubled. Looked like he was trying to smooth out the wrinkles with his hand. “Janie, I can remember when I helped my father plant this garden. We had a lot more vegetables here, squash, green beans . . . We ate off this garden. It's changed a good bit over the years . . . as all things do.”