Bless Her Heart

by Sally Kilpatrick

  “You can count on me to show up on time.”

  “I’m well aware of how annoyingly punctual you are. You did demonstrate the other day that you could mind the shop and most of my business comes from the studio anyway. You can work here temporarily.”

  I took my place behind the register as Mom scampered off to teach her first class of the morning.

  “Hey, Mom, what does this job pay?”

  “Not nearly enough,” she sang over her shoulder.

  Julia chuckled from her post in the corner.

  “What are you laughing about?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said as she studied the cards laid out before her.

  I walked over to look at a more elaborate pattern than what she’d lain down for me. “You’re not getting much business, are you?”

  When Julia looked up, her hazel eyes bored through me. “According to the cards, I should see a spike in business shortly. It always takes a while for people to come around. The advantage of small towns is that I’m not competing with those psychics who have neon signs. The downside is, well, most people here mistakenly think I’m doing something wrong.”

  “They’re scared of divination.”

  Julia smiled down at the cards. “Humans have always searched for what’s to come, and they’ve also always feared it. At least tarot helps them see what came before and what’s happening in their lives in the present. If they’re willing to listen, that is.”

  I still didn’t feel particularly fertile or abundant. So far, I didn’t think I’d made any bad choices, either. “We’ll see.”

  “Also, I’ve almost talked your mother into letting me open a smoothie bar in the back. I think we could do some brisk business with the yoga students and other people in town. I have a weight loss supplement that works—”

  “Really?”

  “If you commit to exercise and understand it’s not a quick process.”

  Of course. So much easier to put on weight rather than take it off. “I’m still interested.”

  “Excellent! You can be my guinea pig when I get started.”

  “And Mom’s on board with this?”

  “Not yet. But she will be.”

  At that moment Amanda Kildare walked in, stopping short. “Posey.”

  “Good morning. I read your book. Still don’t think you’re headed to hell.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” she said, her eyes nervously darting to Julia and back to me.

  “Do you have an appointment with Julia?” I asked. “Please don’t let me keep you.”

  She sagged with relief and walked purposely to Julia’s nook.

  I retreated to the cash register standing as far away from the women as possible and training my eyes on the street beyond the window.

  John O’Brien crossed the street, and I wondered if he would be more like the heroes in the books Rain had loaned me. Surely he was a “sweet and ardent lover,” even if he wasn’t meant for me. I stared unabashedly until I realized he was heading to Au Naturel. I took a step back.

  “Posey, I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Really?”

  He laughed. “Well, I needed two things. First, I wanted to see if you were okay. I heard something about Chad and saw the notice on the church door.”

  “I’m okay.” I didn’t sound convincing even to myself.

  “Okay’s probably the best we can hope for now, huh? The second thing is that Mrs. Morris wants her piano back. She says she only loaned it to the church, and the bank had better not auction it off.”

  “Oh. Well. I don’t have the keys anymore,” I admitted. “I kinda gave them to Malik Foster.”

  “Good to know.” John crammed his hands in his pocket. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “No, but I’m going to be.”

  He grinned. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll see you around, huh?”

  “Yeah, see you around,” I echoed as I enjoyed watching John walk away.

  * * *

  That night my feet ached. At some point I would need to buy better shoes if I were going to keep working at Au Naturel. I could ignore the ache in my heels if I concentrated on the baby I held, though. Nathaniel was so fussy, but I couldn’t fault him. Liza told me it was the first time they’d left him with someone else. She’d been so nervous as she explained everything in the diaper bag and then handed me a typed sheet of paper with his nighttime routine.

  “Liza. Go have fun,” I said. “I can handle this.”

  An hour later I wondered if I’d spoken too soon. My pseudo-nephew would not take his bottle, scrunching up his eyes as if to tell me, “That is not my mom, and you know it.”

  He only quit fussing when I walked him around the house in a colic hold, and my arms ached from the position of one hand under his little butt and the other over his stomach. Who knew that someone so small could weigh so much? Blessedly, Liza rang the doorbell a full thirty minutes before I expected her.

  “Hand me the baby,” she said.

  “Gladly. I think he’s missed you almost as much as you’ve missed him.”

  “Possibly,” she said as she plopped down on the love seat and fiddled with her bra. “My boobs are killing me. The La Leche League video didn’t say a thing about this. It was supposed to be all puppies and rainbows and happily nursing babies.”

  Granny snorted from where she sat in her recliner, crocheting. Her foot rocked her little crib, and I couldn’t help but notice this afghan was misshapen. She’d lost the precision that was the hallmark of the other pieces around the room.

  Nathaniel latched on, and both mother and child sighed with relief.

  “Boy like that needs some Pablum.”

  Both Liza and I looked over to Granny who continued crocheting without even looking up.

  “Some what?” I asked.

  “Pablum. He was sleeping through the night but now he ain’t, am I right?”

  Liza looked from me to Granny. “Yes, how’d you know?”

  “Had enough kids of my own, didn’t I? That’s a big boy and he’s hungry.” She looked over at her baby doll in the crib and smiled. She stayed quiet for so long I thought she’d retreated to that place she sometimes went.

  “But, ma’am, the doctors say it’s best to exclusively breastfeed until six months.”

  “Six months?” The idea offended her so much she slammed her work down into her lap. “That’s ridiculous. We’ve all got better things to do than that. I’m not saying you ought to wean a baby too soon, and I’m not saying you should put them on formula exclusively, either. My little sister weaned her babies too early and you’ve never seen such a sickly lot.”

  Having met my Aunt Pauline, I thought the sickness of her kids probably had more to do with her drafty house and the alcoholic husband who drank away half the grocery budget. I held my tongue on that subject, though. “And you don’t think this . . . Pablum will hurt the baby?”

  “Of course not! I gave it to my youngest and she gave it to hers. Stuff is a lifesaver. Just mix it with some breast milk, and you’ll be back to thank me. I guarantee it.”

  I tried to imagine the logistics of putting a little breast milk into cereal, but all I could think of were Cheerios, and that wasn’t an image I wanted in my head. Liza’s head tilted to one side; she was considering it.

  “The cereal comes in tiny flakes.” My mother said from the doorway. Her amused expression suggested she’d heard the whole exchange and that I’d been wearing a look that conveyed my disgust and confusion.

  “So this Pablum thing is okay?” I asked my mother quietly. She was the guru of all things natural, after all.

  “Well, it worked for you, your brother, and your sister,” she said with a shrug. “The doctor is probably right about keeping things as natural as you can for as long as you can, but there’s a lot to be said for a mother’s sanity, too.”

  Even dressed in her date night clothing, Liza looked bedraggled. The pants she wore looked suspiciously like a maternity p
air, and I knew that had to bother her, too. She’d lain back against the love seat and closed her eyes which only emphasized the dark circles.

  “Where can I find this Pablum?” she asked as she closed one side of her bra and burped the baby before putting him on her other side.

  “Oh, they don’t sell it anymore,” Mom said.

  I sighed in frustration. Just another one of Granny’s wild goose chases, another thing from the good ol’ days that someone had determined was no longer good for us. “Then why bother getting Liza’s hopes up?”

  “Pablum’s just an old brand,” she said. “They make the same kind of cereal under different names. The stuff comes in a box, and it’s on the baby food aisle.”

  “And you’re sure this is okay, Mrs. Adams?”

  “Well, like I said, I used cereal, and Mom did before me. I didn’t need it as much with Rain because she was so tiny, but for Posey and Henny, it was a lifesaver.”

  Nathaniel had been clenching his fist, sometimes beating Liza’s breast as if to make more milk come. His tiny hand relaxed and his arm fell slowly as he succumbed to a full belly. God how I wanted that: a baby I could comfort and hold close.

  Owen walked over from the front door where he’d been standing, awkwardly trying to decide if he should put his hands in his pockets, leave, or come sit down. Now that the baby had finished nursing, he knew his job: He took his son and burped him while Liza put her wardrobe to rights. His smile to child and then to mother made my heart ache. His large hands hardly fumbled with the little straps on the carrier as he gently nestled the sleeping baby inside.

  When I looked up, Granny’s hawk eyes stared through me.

  “Posey, thank you so much for this date night. You have no idea what this has meant for me and Owen,” Liza said as she stood. “Let me hug you while I smell decent.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Posey,” Owen said. I’d always liked him. He didn’t say much, but, then again, whoever was married to Liza wasn’t destined to get many words in edgewise.

  I clasped Liza tightly then walked both her and Owen to the door. “It was my pleasure. You’ll have to let me watch him again one day.”

  “Oh, you’re on,” Liza said with a grin.

  Owen effortlessly carried the baby carrier with one hand and took Liza’s hand with the other. They leaned close enough to touch noses.

  I tried to think of a time when Chad had leaned in like that, his nose touching mine for a second of contentment. Deep in the recesses of my fuzzy mind I could think of maybe one instance when we were first dating. We’d never had the opportunity to bond over a child. Now, we never would, and I was surprisingly okay with that. I couldn’t see a man with limited Crock-Pot skills as the kind of father who would burp the baby or change a diaper.

  “You, girl,” Granny said as I closed the front door.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Have a seat.”

  I did, and she didn’t speak for so long that I started to get up and head to the kitchen where I could hear the tea kettle’s struggles to reach a boil.

  When Granny looked up, skin hooded her eyes, enhancing her agony. “I can’t remember who you are, but I know you’re important so I have something to say to you: You think you want what she has, but it’s not for you. It’s a sin to covet.”

  My blood ran cold. I hadn’t seen that one coming.

  Granny’s expression softened. “I know what it’s like to want something you can’t have, and the wanting will eat you alive if you let it. You’ll get yours in God’s own time.”

  In God’s time. That’s what Chad always said. I’d given up church so I didn’t have to hear such things.

  Besides, if God took any longer, I’d be Sarah’s age by the time I had a child, and I didn’t think current women had Biblical miracles like that anymore.

  No, I’d continue to stay out of church, and I’d mark my own time, thank you very much.

  chapter 12

  The next morning I woke up at five even though I’d slept one last night in my old home so I wouldn’t have to get up quite as early for the yard sale. Between Granny’s words and my unwanted memories of Chad, I hadn’t slept well, so I got up and walked through the house, hating all of the blue walls that Liza had pointed out not long ago. Funny how you could live so long and not notice a thing, but, once it was brought to your attention, you couldn’t think of anything else.

  Though it was still dark, I laid blankets on the dewy lawn. Even though I knew my car was safe, I still looked over my shoulder for the repo man. Over the past week, I’d learned that betrayals often happened in the darker hours. Once my lawn was almost hidden by quilts and blankets, I started cleaning out closets, taking out armload after armload of Chad’s clothes, then mine, and dumping them on blankets. I tossed out drawers and brought out appliances. Laundry basket after laundry basket containing kitchen supplies landed on the ground. I put out one box with all of my angels and another with old dusty albums. Lamps, smaller pieces of furniture, appliances. I toted items out until my back ached and I panted from the exertion. Then I left the front door open as an invitation to anyone who wanted the old four-poster bed or that damned curio that had it out for my toes.

  Once I was satisfied I’d put as many of my earthly possessions outside as I could, I sneaked inside for a cup of coffee as the sun finally peeked above the horizon. Rain had put yard sale signs all over town for me since I’d missed the deadline for the paper to print the information. All of her signs said the sale started at seven thirty which meant people would start showing up at six thirty, maybe even six. And three minutes ’til, I went out to the garage and sat in an old lawn chair with coffee cup in hand.

  Sure enough, the first car arrived at six minutes after six. Others followed closely. At one point an elderly couple “helped” me spread out some housewares so they could pick through my pots and pans and take the best ones. By seven thirty, the sun had finally made her appearance. I’d already made quite a few sales when Liza showed up with a bounce in her step. Was she whistling?

  “Who are you and what have you done with my friend Liza?” I asked.

  “Your friend Liza made the grocery store two minutes before it closed. She tried that cereal thing, and everyone slept through the night. It was glorious!”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad it worked out.”

  “You watch the baby. I have coffee and sausage biscuits in the car. Then I’ll get the pack-and-play.”

  “This keeps getting better,” I said, as I took Nathaniel from the carrier. Even he looked more alert. “That cereal treat you right, big man?”

  “My Lucky Charms were awesome, thanks for asking!”

  John O’Brien. And, of course, he’d eaten Lucky Charms for breakfast. Of course.

  His dimples took my breath away.

  “Uh, hi, John.”

  “Mind if I take a look at that weight bench?”

  “Go right ahead.” I stepped aside so he could walk into the garage and study the dusty weight bench Chad had used maybe twice. I’d left it in the garage because it was too heavy to drag out on the driveway. Goodness knew Chad had never let it see the light of day, so why start now, I figured.

  John dusted off the bench with his hand and lay down. He tested the barbell. I watched the contours of his chest and the definition of his arms as he did a few bench presses. His T-shirt rode up ever so slightly, captivating me with a sliver of abs.

  “Enjoying the view?” Liza asked.

  I jumped out of my skin, and the baby fussed.

  “You are so edgy,” she said. “Put the baby down before you drop him.”

  “I would never—”

  “I know, I know, but you can’t hold him and have breakfast, and I’m scared you’ll accidentally squeeze him to death if you keep holding him while watching John lift weights.”

  “That obvious?”

  She arched an eyebrow and took the baby.

  My eyes had traveled back to John, who was adding different
weights to the barbell, when Mr. Ledbetter hollered, “How much for this hunk of junk?”

  We haggled over the push mower, which was not a hunk of junk. I knew this because I had learned how to sharpen the blades and change the oil after our first mower had died from lack of maintenance. Mr. Ledbetter probably didn’t need another lawn mower, but he was a staple of local yard sales. He liked to bargain.

  In the end, I got almost what I wanted just by setting the first price so high. Mr. Ledbetter left, satisfied he’d bargained me down. We were both pleased. From there I had to scare a young mother away from the pack-and-play where Nathaniel slept, telling her neither playpen nor baby were for sale. She laughed at the second one and told me she had no need for another baby.

  Meanwhile, Liza had put on her charm to sell my custom drapes to Imogene Dale, whose house was almost exactly like mine and thus had very similar windows. An older lady in nurse’s scrubs bought almost all of The Golden Girl dress collection, and for that I was extremely grateful. Furniture flew out of the driveway as people showed up in trucks, ready to haul off larger items.

  “Hey, Posey.”

  I turned to find John thumbing through some old LPs I’d found in the spare bedroom closet when Chad and I first moved in. I’d never owned a record player, so I knew nothing about them.

  “I want the weight bench, and I’m probably going to buy a bunch of these. How much were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “What? Twenty for the weight bench and fifty cents each for the records?”

  He frowned at me then pulled an album from the stack reverently. “This is an original Miles Davis. I see Queen and Jimi Hendrix. No way am I going to allow you to sell these for fifty cents each.”

  “Can I have that Hendrix back? Mom named my brother for him.”

  John handed over the record but looked sad to see it go. I took it to the garage and put it on top of the freezer under the old cigar box I was using to keep the money. When I returned, John said, “This box is worth at least a hundred dollars.”

  “Are you talking me up on a yard sale price? You do know that’s not how any of this works, right?”