The Book of Bright Ideas

by Sandra Kring

  That night, the room was dark with the curtains drawn (except for the sliver of light coming from the bathroom door, which Aunt Verdella said she’d leave on in case I had to pee in the night) and we just laid there for a time, each thinking our own worries. Aunt Verdella sighed now and then, her folded hands rising up and down with each rise of her belly.

  “I just can’t believe this, can you, Button? That poor child thinks Hannah is dead. Oh my. It’s almost more than I can bear to know.”

  “Aunt Verdella?” I asked. “Whose body is burned up in Winnalee’s jar, then?”

  Aunt Verdella sniffled. “I don’t know. Probably nobody’s. Maybe they’re just ashes from a woodstove or something. I don’t know.” She asked me to go to the bathroom and get her some Kleenex. She dabbed her wet eyes, blew her nose, then said, “You know, when I told Rudy about the urn tipping over, he said that he hoped that Winnalee didn’t see any bones or teeth bits, because that would be so traumatic for a child to see. I didn’t question it then, but now that I am, I’m thinking about how I didn’t see any bits of bones or teeth in those ashes either. What did I know, though. I’ve never seen anybody’s ashes before.”

  “They looked like cigarette ashes to me when I saw them,” I said. “I even told Winnalee that it looked like someone dumped their ashtray in that jar.”

  Aunt Verdella sighed. “I guess what we’ve got to think about, Button, is what we’re gonna tell Rudy and your ma and daddy. And do I say something to Freeda or not? I just don’t know the answers to those questions. Maybe the good Lord will give me some ideas by morning.” She reached over and put her arm around me. She gave me a hug and a hard kiss on the back of my head. “Good night, Button. Auntie sure loves you.”

  Aunt Verdella fell asleep after a time, but she turned and fidgeted so much that I felt like I was sleeping on a boat instead of a bed. Each time her moving woke me up, I ended up thinking about Winnalee again and about the lie Freeda told her.

  I felt thirsty, so I got out of bed. I opened the bathroom door slowly and the light creeped up Aunt Verdella’s stick legs. I didn’t want the light to crawl all the way up to her face and wake her, so I opened the door just enough to slip inside, then drank water from a Dixie cup. On my way back to bed, I saw my opened suitcase on the floor and me and Winnalee’s Book of Bright Ideas peeking out from behind my folded shirt. I picked the book up and ran my hand over the gold, dented-in letters on the cover. Winnalee said that an expectation was something you hoped for. What I hoped for was that even if Winnalee found out the truth about her ma, she’d decide that she wanted to live with Freeda instead. And that she’d stay my neighbor and my best friend forever.

  I looked over at Aunt Verdella. Her face was tinged red from the letters that lit the top of the pole on the corner of the parking lot. I could see her eyeballs jiggling under her lids, which were still colored blue from the eye shadow she’d put on that morning. I didn’t want to wake her to ask if I could use her pen, yet I wanted to write something in our book. After thinking about it for a time, I slipped my hand into her purse, which was sitting on the nightstand, and felt for a pen. Then I opened our book and wrote, Bright Idea #97: A person doesn’t have to be ugly and mean to tell a big lie. They don’t have to be a stranger either. Sometimes the biggest lies come from pretty people who are in your own family.

  The next morning, we woke early and went back to the diner. It was filled with the smells of coffee and bacon and cigarette smoke. We ordered pancakes, but they weren’t shaped like bunnies.

  Aunt Verdella was quiet while we ate. She gave her half-eaten eggs back to the waitress and sipped her coffee some more. After a time, she said, “I was just remembering something.” She took a sip of her coffee, leaving red lip prints on the mug, then, while I swirled the rest of my pancakes into the syrup and ate, Aunt Verdella told me a story.

  “One spring—a messy, messy spring where the weather turned so fast that the poor ground couldn’t soak up the melting snow fast enough—your uncle Rudy and I were taking a little drive over to Lincoln County so he could look at a heifer somebody had for sale. Your uncle Rudy’s back was bad, and I didn’t like the idea of him drivin’ that far alone, so I thought I should ride along in case he ended up needing me to help drive. Anyway, on the way home, along the highway, we came across a man. Oh, he was a raggy-lookin’ thing. Young, hair all askew, clothes all filthy and torn. He was downright scary looking!

  “When he saw our car comin’, he started runnin’ right at us. Waving his arms and yellin’, his face in those headlights, tortured like a madman’s. Rudy started slowin’ the car down and I got upset. ‘Don’t stop!’ I yelled. ‘He’s crazy! Look at him! Lord knows what he’ll do to us!’ I was sure that he was some murderin’ lunatic who would rob us, defile me, who knows what else. And with your uncle Rudy’s back so bad, I knew he’d be no match for that young lunatic.

  “But your uncle Rudy stopped, anyway, of course. And it was a good thing he did. What we couldn’t see from the highway was that this man’s car was stuck something fierce in the mud, down this long driveway hidden from the road by trees. His wife was in the car, about ready to give birth to their first baby. Why, that poor man looked like a lunatic because he was crazy with fear. And who could blame him, him being still wet behind his ears and her in such pain and screaming for him to hurry and get her to the hospital?

  “He was trying to get his car out of the mud when he heard our car. He ran out onto the highway then, hoping it would be a neighbor or someone who’d lend a hand. He was a filthy mess from rooting around in the mud. We got that poor little thing to the hospital, and all was well. Afterward, your uncle said to me, ‘It just goes to show, Verdie. You can’t judge a person by what they’re doing, till you know why they’re doing it.’

  “Anyway, that whole night just came to my mind a bit ago, as I was trying to figure out why Freeda took that little girl out of Hopested like she did and told her such a horrible lie. It looks crazy to us, yes, mean even. But we don’t know the whole story, Button. For all we know, she had a good reason for doing what she did, even if she did go about it in the wrong way. You understand what I’m trying to say?”

  “I think so.”

  “And I was thinking of this too,” she said. “Button, if I go telling your ma what we learned, and she judges it without knowin’ the whole story, I’m afraid it’s gonna change how she feels about Freeda. And worse yet, I’m afraid it’s going to change how she feels about herself. Freeda has made your ma go from a little caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly. Your ma learns that Freeda lied about all those big things, and she’ll believe that Freeda lied about the good things she said to her too. I don’t want that to happen. So what we’re gonna do is tell your ma and daddy that when we got to Hopested there was already a stone for Hannah Malone sittin’ in the cemetery. And I’ll leave it at that. I’ll be telling Uncle Rudy the truth, though, ’cause I ain’t gonna lie to him. But you know your uncle Rudy. It won’t change nothing about how he sees Freeda. Your uncle Rudy is good like that, Button. He don’t judge people, and he stays out of other people’s business, like I shoulda done in the first place. Do you understand why I think it should be like this?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “As for Freeda, I’m not saying anything to her either. I’m gonna take a lesson from your uncle Rudy and just stay out of it and trust that Freeda is as good as I believe she is. It just ain’t our place to say anything. To Freeda and Winnalee, we’ll just pretend that we went to cart my friend’s kids to their aunt’s house, like we said we were gonna do. Do you think you can keep this secret, Button?” I nodded, and she reached over and patted my hand. “Okay, then let’s head for home.”

  We stopped at St. Croix Falls for gas, and I reminded Aunt Verdella that we had told Winnalee we’d bring her home a special surprise. Aunt Verdella asked me what Winnalee would like the most, but I couldn’t think of one thing past that final resting place for her ma.

  We looked
around in a Ben Franklin store. We didn’t find nothing real special, so Aunt Verdella kept buying things that were only part special: new paper dolls, a new coloring book, a set of jacks—one for each of us—and barrettes just for me, because she said my hair was getting long enough now to need them. Then we went to a gift shop, and Aunt Verdella got busy looking at stuffed animals. Aunt Verdella picked up one teddy bear after another, hugging each of them to see which was softest. That’s when I saw the glass jewelry counter, all lit up, pretty little necklaces laid out like sunbathers. “Aunt Verdella, look!”

  She hurried to the counter and bent over, looking where my finger was tapping on the glass. “Oh my!” she said. Then she called a lady over to the counter to unlock it, so we could buy Winnalee the pretty silver chain with a silver fairy dangling from it.

  When we got back into the car, I asked Aunt Verdella if I could borrow her pen again, and then I wrote, Bright Idea #98: When what your best friend really wants is to have the one they love back again, but you can’t give them that, or even help them put that person to rest, then give them a fairy instead. Because we all gotta believe in something good.

  21

  We’d spent so much time looking for Winnalee’s gift that Uncle Rudy was at my house having supper with Ma and Daddy by the time Aunt Verdella and I pulled in the drive.

  “Well, if it isn’t our angels of mercy,” Uncle Rudy said when we came through the door. “How’d it go, Verdie?”

  Uncle Rudy’s smile faded when he saw Aunt Verdella up close.

  Ma stood up. “I’ll get a couple of plates. You two hungry?”

  We said we were.

  “Come on, Button. Sit down.” Ma pulled out the chair I always sat on. She plunked a fried chicken leg on my plate and tapped a spoonful of mashed potatoes beside it. “Coffee, Verdella?” She put some corn on my plate too and buttered me a baking-powder biscuit.

  “I’ll get it. I’ve been sitting so long it will do me good to fluff my butt.”

  “How’d things go?” Daddy asked, his mouth full of chicken. “You get your mission accomplished?”

  “No. Why, I guess I should have looked before I leapt. Turns out there’s already a stone in the cemetery for Hannah Malone!” Aunt Verdella laughed, but it didn’t sound like her usual ha-ha. “I imagine her sister or brother bought it for her. Anyway, I’ve decided not to say a thing to Winnalee or even to Freeda about this. Freeda would probably feel bad, thinking about how I traveled so far for nothing. It was silly of me in the first place to run off without checking. Oh well, me and Button had a nice little vacation anyway, didn’t we, Button? We made it, and we didn’t get lost even once, and, best of all, nothing bad happened!” Verdella’s eyes got sparkly when she said this, and I thought that maybe this meant she just figured out that she did earn her redemption.

  Everybody went back to their eating and talking about what a nice drive it is to Minnesota. Then their minds went down other roads and other places. Now and then, though, I saw Uncle Rudy glance over at Aunt Verdella, like he was trying to figure out what she wasn’t saying.

  “Oh dear. Look at the time, Rudy! It’s quarter after six already. Freeda’s gotta get to work, and we’ve got to get back to look after Winnalee.” She got up and grabbed her purse. “I’m sorry for not helping with the dishes, Jewel.” Ma told her it was okay.

  Aunt Verdella leaned over to give me a quick kiss and hug good-bye, then stopped and unpuckered her lips. “Jewel, I know Button just got home, but do you think I could bring her with me for just a minute so we can give Winnalee the gifts we brought back for her? The poor little thing was so sad about being left behind that I told her we’d bring her back something special. I don’t want to give them to her without Button there, and, well, you know how Winnalee is about waiting.” Aunt Verdella sounded like her old self when she laughed this time.

  Ma looked a little disappointed. “Well, I suppose.”

  So off we went. Me and Aunt Verdella in her Bel Air, and Uncle Rudy in his pickup. And sure enough, Winnalee was waiting on their steps when we pulled in the drive, her fake ma sitting right alongside her. Her face was propped on her hands, her loopy hair spilled over her like a waterfall. When she saw Aunt Verdella’s car, her whole body smiled, and she leapt off of the steps and ran toward us, bouncing until we got out of the car. She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed till it hurt. Then she wrapped her arms around Aunt Verdella’s fat part and squeezed that tight too.

  Of course, she begged for her special surprise right away. “Just wait, honey. Let Uncle Rudy bring my bag in so I can fetch it out of there.”

  Aunt Verdella gave her the little things first, and Winnalee liked them all, then Aunt Verdella made a drumroll sound with her tongue as she pulled the last, and best, surprise from the bag. I expected Winnalee to start squealing when she opened the box and saw that pretty fairy laying on a bed of cotton, but she didn’t. Instead, she just stared and stared, then looked up at us, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “Winnalee?” Aunt Verdella asked.

  That’s when Winnalee went nuts, laughing while she was crying and hugging us so hard I thought she might snap us in half. “I love it, I love it, I love it! I never in my whole life saw a fairy necklace! It’s the bestest present I ever got!”

  “Stand still, honey,” Aunt Verdella told her, as Winnalee did little hops in a circle while I tried to hold up her hair so Aunt Verdella could slip the clasp through the little ring part.

  After we got it on her, Winnalee went to the bathroom mirror so she could see how it looked on her. “Come see, Button!” she called, even though I didn’t need a mirror to see how it looked.

  When we came back to the kitchen, Aunt Verdella said that she had to bring me back home. Winnalee sighed and groaned at the same time. “She just got here!”

  “I know, honey. But she’s been gone two days and her ma and daddy miss her. She’ll be back in the morning, bright and early.”

  “Okay. I’ll ride with because I want to show Aunt Jewel my necklace.” It was the first time Winnalee ever called my ma “Aunt Jewel,” so it took me a bit by surprise and made me smile. I knew by the way Aunt Verdella smiled at me that it made her happy too.

  “Did you get any bright ideas while you were gone?” Winnalee asked while Aunt Verdella dug around the junk on the counter for her car keys, which she’d practically just set down.

  “A couple of them,” I said.

  “Well, sometimes it takes time before you can tell if they’re any good or not. That’s how bright ideas are.”

  “Oh, here they are!” Aunt Verdella shouted. She picked up her keys and jiggled them. “Let’s go!

  “Winnalee, honey, I can’t see good when you stand up like that to see in the rearview mirror. Why don’t you reach in my purse and grab my compact and look at your necklace with that. Okay?” Winnalee got out the compact and tilted it up and down until she got the right angle. Then all the way to my house she chattered, saying things like, “Ain’t it pretty?” and “Doesn’t she look real?” I made myself smile, but inside I was feeling some sad along with that happy. It was a nice necklace, for sure, but a necklace was just a thing. Not a person. I wanted so bad to just blurt out to her, “You know that lady, your ma? The one you still love a lot? She’s not dead! She’s in Hopested, still alive!” I could tell too, by the soft-sad look in Aunt Verdella’s eyes when she had reached out to take the urn so Winnalee could climb into the car, that Aunt Verdella was wanting to say the same thing. But we couldn’t, of course, because it wasn’t our place.

  When we got inside, Ma was wiping off the counter and the supper dishes were dripping in the dish rack. “Winnalee wanted to show Aunt Jewel her special gift,” Aunt Verdella said to Ma.

  “Is that right?” Ma smiled as Winnalee ran up to her and clasped her hands behind her back, moving like a washing-machine agitator. “Notice anything different, Aunt Jewel?”

  Ma’s eyeballs slipped down, then up, then down and up again. Fin
ally, they found the spot on Winnalee’s neck where the little fairy shone. “Oh, isn’t that lovely!”

  Winnalee patted it. “It’s a fairy, Aunt Jewel! A real fairy! Ain’t she pretty? You ever see a fairy necklace before? I never did.” Ma told her she hadn’t either.

  “Aunt Verdella said she was gonna bring me back something special, and she sure was telling the truth. I can’t think of one thing they could have brought me back that would be more special than this necklace. Not one thing!” Me and Aunt Verdella looked at each other for two blinks, and then everywhere else but at Winnalee. “I can’t wait to show it to Freeda, but she’s gone to work, so I’ll have to wait.”

  “Button, why don’t you go unpack now,” Ma said. “Be sure and put your dirty clothes in the hamper, please.”

  Winnalee followed me into my room. She reached for our book when I opened my suitcase. She opened it and read the bright ideas I’d put there, her head tilting, her eyes skinnying. “You have a pencil?” she asked. I handed her one, and she wrote: Bright Idea #99: If your best friend goes away and you miss her, you don’t need to cry and carry on forever, because she’ll be back. And who knows? When she comes back, she might even bring you something so special that your heart almost bursts.

  22

  It’s funny how quickly we forget the things we don’t want to remember. The day after we got back from Hopested, me and Winnalee took our lunch out to the picnic table and the urn was sitting right on the table across from Winnalee, where I wanted to put my plate. I didn’t think nothing of grabbing that urn and moving it over under the tree. Winnalee looked at me cradling the urn in my arms as I moved it, and she smiled. I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking that I wasn’t afraid of dead people anymore. But the truth of the matter was, I wasn’t afraid of ashtrays.