Peaches with Bonus Material

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Peaches with Bonus Material Page 18

by Jodi Lynn Anderson


  “Yeah. You’re crazy, Murphy,” she piped in, wanting to be part of the discussion and also knowing Rex was right. Leeda knew that if she had Murphy’s brains, she’d be using them for something—like surpassing her sister.

  “Oh, please stop. I feel like I’m back in school.”

  They all lapsed into silence for a moment and suddenly Rex looked at Leeda, as if he’d just remembered she was there.

  “What do you think Leeda will be?” he asked Murphy, wrapping his arm around Leeda’s shoulders contritely. She braced herself for disappointment.

  Murphy nodded definitively. “A movie star.”

  “Queen?” Rex suggested.

  “Queen sounds fabulous,” Leeda said flatly. But Rex poked her ribs and, like a little kid, she laughed and felt stupid for being jealous.

  “You can be queen of Darlington Peach Orchard. Here.” Murphy pulled a peach out of her pocket and tapped Leeda on the top of the head with it. “Rex and I declare ourselves your loyal subjects.”

  “That’s a paltry offering. The Darlington Orchard is almost extinct.”

  This made everybody silent, and Leeda felt bad again. Murphy plucked grass and scattered it on Leeda’s knee.

  There was a shadow over the rest of their picnic. Leeda felt softly worried, like the worry had settled in at the edges of her mind. It only reminded her that she’d never felt more accepted or loved, and that she was happy. And it couldn’t possibly last.

  From her window, Birdie watched the festivities in the garden. Rex, Murphy, and Leeda looked like a cozy threesome without her. In fact, it looked like they didn’t miss her at all.

  Since Walter had locked her away, she’d cleaned the whole house from top to bottom. She’d talked to her mom twenty million times and passed messages along to her dad about things Cynthia wanted from the house for the new one she was moving into.

  Birdie had maintained her sanity with her little notes from Leeda, and the knowledge that they were out there miserable without her (like the notes had said). But now she could see how obvious it was that life outside was moving on without her, and she was beginning to wonder if it wouldn’t always be that way.

  She’d spotted Enrico once, when she was down in the kitchen washing dishes, glancing out the window over the sink. He’d been hauling a bushel of damaged peaches off in the direction of the cider house. It had made Birdie even more keenly aware that the last days of the harvest were passing her by. Sitting up in her window watching the picnic, she nibbled on her nails, agonizingly restless. Already she had lost too much time.

  “They could hear that sigh clear across Bridgewater,” Poopie said, standing in the doorway. “What’s wrong, Birdie?” She walked across the room and sat on the window seat beside her. She shook her head. “It’s sad, I know. The orchard…”

  Birdie picked her fingernails. “Dad sent over papers to Mr. Balmeade.”

  “I know about them,” Poopie interrupted. Birdie wasn’t surprised. Poopie knew about everything. “The workers think this is the last summer.”

  “You won’t leave Dad, will you?” Birdie had never even considered this a possibility. Her skin prickled as Poopie shrugged.

  “I need to work.”

  Birdie breathed raggedly. She tried to change the subject because she couldn’t handle this one anymore. “I’m sick of being inside, Poopie.” Honey Babe was on a pillow on her lap, and Birdie ran her silky tail through her hand, twining it around her fingers and clenching it in her fist.

  “I just don’t understand why Dad thinks this is good for me. I’m gonna end up like that lady in Jane Eyre.” Birdie was referring to a character in the story who was locked away in the attic because she was insane and finally ended up lighting the house on fire. She and Poopie had watched the movie on A&E.

  “You’re not gonna be like the lady in Jane Eyre, honey.”

  “How do you know? People just get more eccentric as they get older.”

  “You should tell him how you feel.”

  Birdie stiffened. For a moment she thought Poopie was talking about Enrico.

  “You never tell your father what’s going on in your head. He needs to hear it, even if he doesn’t want to.”

  Birdie’s shoulders drooped. “He doesn’t listen. I mean, I do everything right.” Birdie’s voice cracked. “But it doesn’t matter. I mean, even when I’m not locked up, I’m locked up. And you might leave…” Birdie swallowed.

  Poopie frowned and stood up, looking annoyed. Birdie gulped. Was she being too whiny? Before she could say anything else, Poopie walked purposefully out of the room.

  A few minutes later she reappeared in the doorway. “I talked to your father.” She smiled. “You can go.”

  “Really?” Birdie hopped up.

  Poopie nodded.

  Birdie threw her arms around Poopie’s neck and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

  It was just approaching dusk. The smoke coming from the dorm area smelled of barbecue. When she’d started down the stairs, Birdie had been planning to make a beeline for the picnic, but now, with her heart pounding, she let her legs carry her in the direction of the dorms.

  She walked past the barbecue area, scanning the group for Enrico but not slowing down when she didn’t see him. If she slowed down, she’d give up. She tromped up the stairs of Camp B and knocked on the door, not waiting for someone to answer before pushing it open.

  Birdie didn’t have a strategy. She just knew that if she didn’t do this now, she would end up like that woman in Jane Eyre. She would stay an old lady in a young body. She would always be locked up.

  She stopped just a few feet before Enrico’s open door, her heart thumping so loudly she could hear it. And then she had a brief talk with herself. She was confident. She was brave. She was all the other things Murphy and Leeda had told her she was.

  She took the last few steps to the doorway and turned the corner.

  The room was empty. The sheets and blanket had been rolled up at the foot of the bed. The mini TV was gone. The books were gone. Everything was gone.

  Enrico was gone.

  Murphy swirled a fried mushroom cap around in a tiny tub of white sauce. Richard was feeding her mom a buffalo wing, which hardly made the special permission Murphy had gotten to leave the orchard worthwhile. Murphy would have begged to skip the free day and go back to work rather than watch the two of them act like teenagers. But she was already occupied thinking about Rex.

  She loved him. That was the conclusion she’d arrived at sometime between the picnic last night and waking up this morning. Only she could have managed to get in her own way like this. It was the crappiest, stupidest thing she’d done yet. Murphy lifted the mushroom to her lips and ripped off the cap with her teeth, sucking the juice out of the little pool of it under the cap. She looked up to see the TGI Friday’s waiter, who was staring at her suggestively, and frowned at him.

  “Honey?”

  “Yeah.” Murphy stuffed three more mushrooms in her mouth and washed them down with a swig of sweet tea.

  “Richard and I want to tell you something.” Jodee twined her fingers through Richard’s and stared at Murphy nervously. Murphy felt the mushroom caps congeal into a sickening glob in her stomach.

  “I don’t wanna know,” Murphy said.

  “Murphy.”

  “Look, I gotta go to the bathroom.” Murphy fled the table. In the bathroom she rubbed at her tight throat, took a few deep breaths, and then washed her hands compulsively twice. She looked in the mirror and shook her head. “Please, God, don’t do this to me.” Then she rolled her eyes bitterly, immediately realizing she hadn’t racked up enough good karma to ask God for much of anything.

  There was a pay phone in the vestibule just outside the bathroom door. Murphy had painted over the tiny holes of the receiver in black nail polish once, so people could hear through the phone but not be heard. Now she ducked out of the bathroom and picked it up, praying that someone had fixed it since then, and that today wasn�
�t the day her karma had caught up with her. She dialed information and got them to dial the Darlingtons’ home number.

  “Hello?”

  “Poopie,” she croaked. “Is Birdie there?”

  There was a silence on the other end. “Honey, I haven’t seen her in a couple of hours. You okay?”

  The lump in Murphy’s throat was so big that she couldn’t speak. She shook her head until she finally got the words out. “I’m okay. Thanks. Bye.”

  “Honey…”

  Murphy held on to the receiver after she’d placed it on the hook, thinking of who else she could call. The only way she could reach Leeda would be through the phone by the barn. She tried that number, but it rang and rang. How had she lived in this town her whole life without racking up one person she could really talk to? Leeda and Birdie felt like a life raft that was floating too far away. She wanted to scream.

  If either of them had been there to hear her, she would have told them that Jodee had done a lot of stupid things with stupid guys, but she’d never married one of them. She would have said that it felt like the last measly surviving thread of the rug under her and her mom’s life was being yanked out from under her.

  When Murphy finally emerged into the dining area, she had managed to paste a look of cool indifference on her face. Jodee had paid the check and she and Richard were both waiting just outside the front doors. They climbed into the car.

  “Murphy…”

  “Let’s just act like you already told me, okay?” Murphy croaked, then cleared her throat.

  Jodee looked across at Richard in the driver’s seat. He just shook his head. Then she looked back at Murphy, her eyes big and sad. “Okay, baby.”

  Murphy spotted Birdie on the porch when they pulled up the drive and headed in that direction. She almost sprinted across the grass. But she made herself walk, and the closer she got, the more sure she became that something was wrong with Birdie. The area around her eyes was all puffy, and she was stroking her dogs like her life depended on it. Immediately all of the things Murphy had been waiting to spill sank under the surface.

  “You okay, Bird?” Murphy asked, climbing the steps.

  “Yeah.” Birdie’s voice came out thin and warbly.

  Murphy put her hand on Birdie’s knee and shook it. She knew she should ask what was wrong, but Murphy wasn’t that kind of girl. She didn’t really know how. “Hey, Walter let you out?” she said instead, trying to sound cheery.

  Birdie turned her big eyes to Murphy, her breath fluttering between her teeth. “Enrico left.”

  Murphy’s heart gave a heavy thud. She crouched down beside Birdie’s rocker and laid her arm on the armrest, not knowing what to do. Being a shoulder to cry on was something Murphy had never done in her life.

  “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal,” Birdie was saying. She stood up from her chair and plopped down on the deck beside Murphy. Honey Babe planted her two paws on the side of Murphy’s leg and licked her arm. Murphy barely noticed.

  “When?”

  “Last night.” Birdie sniffed. “Poopie got Dad to let me out early, and I was gonna come to the garden, but…” Birdie didn’t finish.

  They stared out at the grass for a while.

  With a long sigh, Birdie spoke. “It’s not just Enrico. It’s just I’m such a coward. I let everything pass me by. I don’t know if I’ll ever…not…do that.”

  Murphy patted her back awkwardly. “That’s not true, Birdie.”

  Birdie’s silence said she didn’t want to be coddled. Finally she dropped her head softly on Murphy’s shoulder.

  “I should have gone for it.”

  “Well, how could you have known the dummy was leaving?”

  “That’s no excuse. I suck.”

  “Everybody sucks,” Murphy offered.

  “Oh, Murphy.” Birdie lifted her head, smiled at her, and rolled her eyes. They were quiet again. And then Birdie sat up straighter. “You know what? Can you change the subject?”

  Murphy nodded. The words about her mom rose to her lips. But then, that wasn’t exactly a pick-me-up. She tried to think of something else, interesting but not heavy. Something they were both invested in.

  “Hey, Bird, what do you think about Rex and Leeda?”

  As soon as it was out, Murphy wished she could take it back.

  “They’re cute together, huh?” Birdie asked, rubbing the back of her hand along the bottom of her nose.

  Murphy considered. “Yeah.” She told herself not to say it. “Do you think she loves him?”

  Birdie considered. “I think they’re good friends.” She pulled back, resting her hands behind her on the deck and tilting her head. “Why?”

  Birdie’s face was so open and sweet that Murphy thought for a minute she really could tell her about Rex and she would understand. Didn’t she at least deserve that? Wasn’t Birdie her friend as much as Leeda’s?

  Murphy shook her head. “It’s just I was thinking the same thing. I think I’d like that kind of thing someday.”

  In the end, it seemed disloyal to Leeda to say anything at all.

  Loyalty was a funny thing. So was love. They both bit you when you least expected it.

  At age seven, Enrico Fiol found a peach blossom blowing across his front yard in Northern Mexico near the Texas border. There wasn’t a peach tree within eight hundred miles. Knowing his friends would make fun of him for admiring the flower, Enrico snatched it up and hid it in a book. It sat there forgotten, dried and mummified, for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Leeda’s two huge suitcases lay in the middle of the floor, half packed. She’d taken down her curtains and folded up her blankets, stowing all her breakable knickknacks inside. Sitting on the bed and looking around, she couldn’t believe how different the room felt. She couldn’t believe she’d lived here for a whole summer. It just looked so unlike anyplace she would spend her time.

  In the hallway the women were packing too, dragging things down the stairs and piling them up outside for the bus. Poopie would shuttle them in the bus to the Greyhound station and help them get everything on when the bus arrived. Leeda watched boxes and boxes of stuff go by and smiled. Greyhound didn’t know what it was in for. If Leeda were from Mexico, she mused, she would have done the same thing.

  She began pulling her clothes out of the dresser, packing them carefully: shirts on one side, shorts on the other. But her limbs felt heavy.

  Across the hall Murphy was blaring her music and lying on her bed. The last time Leeda had peered in, she hadn’t packed a thing. Now Leeda ripped a piece of paper out of the notebook on her desk and folded it into a paper airplane. Then she unfolded it, wrote on it, folded it again, and sent it sailing across the hall.

  A few seconds later the airplane came back. Leeda unfolded it.

  In her writing it said, Get to work, slacker.

  In Murphy’s it said, Come over here and do it for me. Pretty pleeease?

  A second later Murphy herself appeared in the doorway, her eyes sorrowful.

  “Poopie’s here with the bus.”

  They walked out toward the drive, where everyone had gathered, including Birdie. Poopie had already taken a load of the men over, so already the group seemed small. The rickety white door of the bus hissed open, and suddenly everyone was piling on Murphy and Leeda and Birdie, hugging them.

  Next to Leeda, Emma squeezed Birdie’s chin and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Birdie.” A tear trickled out of her eye. This was not like other good-byes at the orchard, though Leeda had never witnessed one. This was people saying good-bye forever.

  As the bus pulled away, Leeda gently patted Birdie’s back. They watched it disappear down the long drive. Birdie turned, smiling, but with tears in her eyes.

  “Oh, honey.” Leeda hugged her, and Murphy stood behind her, rubbing her shoulder. Birdie pulled back and swiped at the rims of her eyelids.

  “It just feels like the world’s ending,” she said through a smile.

>   They walked back to the barbecue pit.

  “Where will you go?” Murphy ventured, cupping her hands thoughtfully. “If you guys…have to sell?”

  “I don’t know. Dad talks about moving to California.”

  “California?”

  “What about Aunt Cynthia? She’s moving here, isn’t she?”

  Birdie shook her head. “Yeah. I don’t know. I don’t know how we’ll work it out.”

  Leeda began ripping apart a long blade of grass. “Well, maybe you won’t have to sell….”

  Birdie let out a long sigh. “We can’t keep up with other farms with better equipment, more land, better connections to the grocery chains. Dad was never good at any of that stuff. He’s just good at growing peaches.”

  “But couldn’t you get all those things?”

  “We don’t have the money.”

  She was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up the drive. All three girls turned to see Horatio Balmeade’s black Mercedes slinking its way toward the house.

  “Buzz kill,” Murphy said.

  Leeda too felt like it was a total reality check. But Birdie didn’t look fazed. For once she looked excited.

  “Do you guys know we have a huge freezer in the back of the house?”

  “Are we gonna put his body in it?” Murphy joked.

  Birdie looked at her mysteriously.

  “Not quite.”

  Squid was Birdie’s dad’s favorite. He liked to buy it fresh from a guy who caught it in the Gulf and then freeze it in the giant freezer out back. Murphy gave Birdie a boost above the toilet seat as she took a handful of the frozen fish and stuffed it into the ceiling tiles of the Magnolia Lady’s Lounge at Balmeade Country Club.

  “Birdie, be careful.”

  “Blah blah,” Birdie said, sliding the foamy square of ceiling back into place. She’d never done something this bad, ever, but she felt like an old pro at it. Her heart was racing but in a good way. This, she figured, must be what Murphy got off on, and now she understood why.

 

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