Tender Graces (18 page)

I shrugged, but followed her.

My room was just off the living room. It was done in pink and white with girlyfied lace stuff on the bed and curtains. The walls were pink with white trim. The paint smelled fresh and everything looked new, except the furniture. The furniture was an old dark color, like coffee. I thought if I touched it, it would feel as warm and smooth as it looked.

The bed had a tall headboard, the footboard curved around the sides of the bed. On it lay a pink and white bedspread with two pink pillows. There was a big soft chair by the bed and a table with a lamp on it. Pictures of baby animals were on the walls. On top of the dresser were two glass lamps, a comb and brush, and a jewelry box. I had no idea what I’d put in the jewelry box. I walked over and opened the top and a ballerina with a pink tutu turned around and around while soft music played. I closed the box to shut it up.

“I didn’t know what colors you like. I thought little girls like pink. The jewelry box came from Penney’s.” She touched the top of it and then her shoulders fell forward.

I thought all the pink would make me go insane. Not like my room at home with its yellow walls, white lamp, and Micah’s pictures. And not like my iron bed and feather mattress. Or my dresser that Uncle Jonah made when I was born, or my cedar robe. And not like my scatter rug. And most especially, not Grandma Faith’s quilt, or my window with my mountain smiling down. I looked out my Louisiana window and saw the mimosa waving at me. I didn’t wave back.

Rebekha stepped towards me with her hand held out. “Everything will be okay. I know this must be traumatic for you.”

I stepped back.

Her hand fell away. “Why don’t I start dinner?” She went back into the kitchen, and I trailed behind her to get away from the pink. She wore brown britches, one of Daddy’s white shirts, and flat-soled shoes, and was as tall as Momma was, but that’s all that was like Momma. A headband that matched her green eyes pulled her light red hair back. Her veins showed all blue under that so-white skin.

I leaned against the icebox while she chopped onions. I wanted to ask if I could help but I didn’t want to talk to her. The back door smacked and Micah came into the kitchen. He stood blinking, as if he didn’t know I was coming. After a minute of us eyeing each other like fools, he hooked his hands in his jeans pockets and grinned. He was a little taller and his hair was curling around his head dark and messy. He had on a black t-shirt, jeans with holes in the knees, and tenny shoes without any socks. I put my face in my hands, pressing my palms to my eyes to stop the hot itchy feeling.

He asked, “Squirk-brain’s here?”

“I told you she was coming today,” Rebekha said.

“Vee, look! I’m Elvis.”

I peeked between my fingers and smiled when he swung his hips with his lip curled.

“Come see my room.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hall to his room. His walls were white with no paint smells. Just like at home, his drawings were all over. His bedspread was blue, green, and white checked, all the rootin’ tootin’ cowboy gone. He pulled a pad from under his bed. “Want to see?”

I nodded and we plopped on his bed. As he turned the pages, I knew they were better than anything he’d done at home. It made me feel as if my brother was not like other brothers even more.

“These are the dogs from next door. One’s named Pebbles and the other Otis.”

“That’s funny names.” I always liked a good name. “Can I pet them?”

“They moved off. Some old lady’s there now.”

I grabbed one of the loose drawings he set face down on the bedspread. It was a screaming-faced man with holes all over him, blood running out of the holes.

“Give me that!” Micah grabbed it and tore it in half, his face scrunched up like a mad dog. I stood up and backed away. The closed doors to my rooms banged open, shut, then open again, wind blowing in and out. I pressed my hands to my eyes again.

“Geez, Seestor. I’m sorry.” He touched my arm. “Come on. It’s okay.”

I sat back down.

He picked up a drawing of a woman reading in a chair, smoothed out a wrinkle, then held it up. “Look.”

“Is that her in there?” I pointed towards the kitchen.

“Yep.”

“Does she yell a lot?”

“Nope. She’s not like Momma.”

My hands twisted in my lap. “Momma didn’t yell a lot.”

“She did when she felt like it. Rebekha is kinda quiet.”

“Does she like the booze, too?”

“She doesn’t guzzle stuff like that.” He turned to a picture of a pretty white bird taped to the blank page. “This is an egret. Did you see them? I’m going to draw it from this photo.” He touched the egret picture. “I don’t know if she likes me.”

“Who?”

“Rebekha.”

“How come?”

“Don’t know.” He turned the page and pointed to an alligator. “I saw this huge, fat, scaly alligator at the lake, so I drew it.”

I stared at the teeth ready to chomp me into eighty pieces. “Are there alligators in the yard here?”

“No, not usually. But I saw a giant, tremendous, horrendous snake under the porch two weeks ago.”

“A big snake under the porch?”

“Don’t worry, they don’t bother anybody.” Micah laughed, then said, “My friend saw one in his bathroom.”

“You have a friend?”

“More than one.” Micah turned to a drawing of Andy. “I did this by a picture you sent.”

“You did it good.” We both stared at Andy holding on to his stuffed tiger. “I didn’t get to tell him goodbye.”

“How come?”

“Momma wouldn’t let me,” I said.

“That’s cause she didn’t want you telling him she stinks.”

“She does not!”

“Yes she does! She doesn’t care about me and now she doesn’t care about you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then how come you and me are here and she’s there?”

I shrugged. “I just miss Andy.”

“Yeah, me too.” Micah stood up, walked around the room. I was afraid there were other things he wanted to do instead of being stuck with his little sister. He didn’t look at me when he said, “Momma should let Andy come here, too. It’s not so bad.”

“She said she wouldn’t.”

“Well, she should so we can all be together again.”

“Or we could go back there.” I wanted to daydream under the maple, feel the cool wind.

Micah shook his head because I was as dumb as a worm.

I was tired of talking about Momma. “Can I come with you and your friends sometimes?”

“Girls aren’t allowed.” He cracked his knuckles then picked up loose drawings that were on the floor.

“Why not?”

“Look, you’ll make your own friends.”

“I guess.”

“Aw, you will.” He put the loose drawings, even the one he tore in half, inside the pad.

Rebekha called us, and Micah said, “Time to eat!”

I didn’t ask him again why he thought Rebekha didn’t like him. I wanted to study them awhile, see what they were all up to.

On the table in big plates and bowls, Rebekha had chicken, round potatoes with butter sliding around, green beans, cornbread, and fruit salad. The fruit bowl sparkled all pretty under the light. Nothing like the carnival glass Momma threw at Daddy. All of Rebekha’s dishes matched and we had cloth napkins by our plates. Momma liked to mix things up where nothing matched. She said it was more fun.

Daddy wasn’t at the table. Rebekha ate her food and didn’t look at us much. I wondered if maybe Micah was right, that she didn’t like him, or me. I remembered what Momma said about a woman raising up another woman’s kids. While she ate, she kept one hand in her lap where her napkin was. I looked at Micah to see if he was copying Rebekha, but he had his elbows all over the table and his napkin was tucked in his shirt collar. He let out a burp and laughed.

“What have I told you? We don’t do that at the dinner table.”

“Sorry. I forgot.” Micah’s mouth was full of cornbread dripping with ten pounds of butter.

Rebekha picked up the bowl and asked, “Virginia Kate, would you like some fruit? It’s all fresh.”

I held up my plate, wishing I’d sopped juice up with my cornbread so my fruit wouldn’t get regular food on it.

“No, Hon, use the little bowl there. And your spoon is at the top of your plate.”

I wondered what the extra stuff was for. I held out my bowl to let her scoop in the strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupe, watermelon, bananas, and grapes. She filled Micah’s bowl and her own. Then she put the napkin back in her lap. I copied her and poked Micah so he’d do the same. He made a face, but did it.

I was about to dig in when Rebekha said, “Hey, why don’t we put some whipped cream on that? Would you children like some?”

Micah said, “I would!” And gave her his biggest grin.

“And you, Virginia Kate?”

I smiled, but only a bit, so she wouldn’t look so jittery at me.

She went into the kitchen, and while she was gone, Micah wiggled his nostrils. She came back with the bowl of whipped cream, said, “I made this myself.” She scooped out big fluffy clouds on each of our fruit salads.

“This is very tasty, Rebekha,” Micah said. He turned around and showed me the fruit in his mouth. He then spooned out another helping before Rebekha and I finished our first. Where it went I never knew, he was as skinny as he’d always been. I think it went to his brain because my brother was too smart for his own good.

Daddy came back right when we were licking the last of the whipped cream off our spoons. We were laughing because Micah had a spot of it on his nose. Daddy walked in and laughed, too, even though he didn’t know what we were laughing about, he just wanted to belong. Spreading his arms wide, hugging us all at the table from the air, he said, “Well, isn’t this a pretty picture.” He sat down and I smelled sweet booze and salty sweat. “Sorry I’m late. I ran into Professor Rosso and we had a lively discussion about whether the Trojan War actually happened and then . . . well, it doesn’t matter.” He filled his plate. “It’s hot as Hades out there.” The food was cold, but Daddy didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m glad you could join us.” Rebekha stood up and kissed Daddy on the cheek. It was strange seeing another woman kiss Daddy. “I’d be interested in hearing about that. I love ancient history.” She sat across from him.

“Oh, it’s boring school stuff.”

“Not at all, Frederick. I minored in history and I miss all that.” Rebekha was sparkly-eyed as she leaned towards Daddy.

“I can’t recreate the entire argument. You had to be there.”

All the sparkle glugged right out of Rebekha. “But, I
wasn’t
there.”

Micah stood up, said, “Well, I’m finished,” and left the table.

I burned my eyes into his back, but he didn’t turn.

Daddy talked about the new neighbors down the street, the McGrander’s. “We should invite them over sometime, seem like a nice couple.”

“Yes, and Mrs. McGrander is quite attractive, isn’t she?”

“I haven’t really noticed.”

Rebekha poked at a strawberry. “She’s hard not to notice.”

Their voices faded on away while I daydreamed about what Momma and Andy were doing. I pictured Andy asking for me. Momma telling him I was gone to Louisiana. Then they set themselves on the brown couch and cried and cried. Momma saying, “Oh, Andy. Why oh why did I send my Virginia Kate away?” And Andy saying, “Oh, Momma. You’re mean.” I thought maybe the phone would ring, since they’d have been blubbering for near-about two days already.

I asked, “Daddy, can we call Momma and Andy?”

“I called her, Bug.”

“But I didn’t get to talk to Andy.” I wondered who would take care of Andy when Momma drank herself into stupidity? My head tightened and I felt a little sick.

“It might upset him.”

I pressed my lips together tight before something mean and hateful came out.

He reached over and patted my head, but I wasn’t in the mood. He said, “Rebekha works at the hospital. In the lab. Isn’t that exciting?”

I looked over at her but she was staring down at her plate.

Daddy pushed away from the table. “That was good, Rebekha.” He looked at me. “Bitty Bug, why don’t you help her clean up?”

Daddy went to watch
Dr. Kildare
. I didn’t think it was fair that since we were girls we had to do the cleaning and the cooking while the boys did what they pleased. I helped take dishes to the kitchen, waited for her to tell me what to do next.

She said, “Wash or dry?”

“Wash?”

She filled up the sink with soapy water. We didn’t say another word. When the dishes were done, she thanked me, said she had a headache, then went to her room and shut the door. I wandered into the living room, but Daddy was asleep on the couch. I went to my new paint-smell room and looked around. I opened the window, reached out and touched the mimosa. The night smelled strange, thick, and was alive with sounds.

I put Fionadala and Fiddledeedee on the bed next to the pink pillows, climbed in with the same clothes I left West Virginia in, and lay stiff. I missed having Grandma Faith’s quilt to snuggle under. I wondered if she could see me all the way from West Virginia to Louisiana.

I dreamed about Grandma. She was giving Petal Puss an apple, laughing when the pig ate it with its eyes closed in pure pig happy. Grandpa Luke sneaked up behind them with a hatchet. I hollered at her to run and take Petal Puss away. My feet were moving but I wasn’t going anywhere. Grandpa drew closer and closer, while Grandma petted and hugged on Petal Puss. Just when Grandpa raised up the hatchet, I woke up. A hot wind blew through my window and the mimosa scratched against the top part of the pane. I heard the front door open and close. Next came the sound of Daddy’s shoes hitting the floor. If I pretended hard enough, I could almost imagine I was in my West Virginia bed.

Chapter 16

West Virginia Kate wasn’t good enough

I woke the next morning and didn’t remember where I was until I saw all that pink. I stretched, got out of bed, and tried to make the bed like it was before. I eased from my room, then went quietly outside to rock on the porch. It was only six o’clock and already hot as a griddle.

In a little while, Micah came outside. “Hey.”