When Mockingbirds Sing (9781401688233)

by Coffey, Billy

  “Ready to go see Mr. Barney and Miss Mabel?”

  “Ok-kay, Puh-Pops,” she said. “S-stay close?”

  “I won’t let you go.”

  They rose from the picnic table and walked around the house hand in hand. Leah stopped at the corner for a last look at the hill. Tom hoped the wave she offered the pines was good-bye rather than hello.

  2

  Barney Moore lifted the soiled John Deere cap from his head to get a better view of the surroundings. “Never thought I’d see this day, sure enough,” he said. “Tarnation, ain’t it a sight?”

  The old Dodge passed through the opening in the white wooden fence that guarded an expanse of emerald grass. The lane was smooth despite its age, the line of magnolias so old they were casting shadows back when Barney was still sitting on his daddy’s knee.

  “Ain’t this a sight, Mabel? Lookit that house, up on the hill like some kinda citadel.”

  Mabel offered no response. She sat hunched over in the passenger seat. Her chin lay against her chest. A pink sliver of tongue poked out from between her teeth.

  “Mabel? Hey there, honey.”

  Barney let go of the wheel and shook his wife hard enough to wake her but easy enough that his panic didn’t show through. The Dodge drifted to the right as her eyes opened into two pale holes. There was a tinny ahh, followed by a sharp cough.

  “There ya go. Gonna have to get Doc March to take a look at that hack you’re gettin’.” Barney took the wheel and steered the Dodge back into the center of the lane. His free hand dabbed the thin string of drool that escaped the corner of her mouth. Her bottom lip trembled as he did. Mabel had always been ticklish. “Look up there, Mabel. Ol’ Henrietta Fox woulda lost her supper if she caught a body up in her lane, and here we are drivin’ right on up to the house. Ain’t that somethin’?”

  Mabel tapped four fingers against her leg in a steady rhythm and said, “I love you.”

  “Now don’t get all jittery just yet,” Barney said. “Still don’t know if this’ll work, but I got a good feelin’. I know Reggie’s gonna show. Reggie shows, so will everybody else.”

  Barney patted Mabel’s hand. He checked the rearview mirror and smiled at the blanket fluttering in the truck’s bed. The pickup sputtered past the last of the magnolias and circled around to a yellow Victorian that stood like a monument to better times. Flower gardens bloomed in yellows and oranges and reds along the front and sides. An American flag hung from a tall metal pole. Two panel trucks from Celebration Time sat in front of the detached double garage. Dr. Norcross waved as he made his way around the side of the house. His Ellen stood on the porch. Barney pulled into the small opening left by the trucks and smiled through the open window.

  “Hiya, Miss Ellen.”

  “Hello, Barney.”

  Barney pulled on the handle and pushed, pushed again, and then heaved his hefty frame against the rusty door until it yielded. He retrieved the wheelchair from the bed and lifted Mabel into it as Ellen approached.

  “It’s so nice to see you.” Ellen bent toward Mabel and touched her on the arm. “I’m happy you’re here, Mabel.”

  “I love you,” Mabel said. Her smile was frail and confused, but a smile just the same.

  Ellen grinned and glanced at the blanket-covered object in the back of the truck. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “It be,” Barney said. He adjusted the thick glasses on his face and lifted his cap. “Gave her one last coat of lacquer yesterd’y evenin’. Go on an’ have a peek.”

  Ellen eased over to the bed and pulled back on the blanket. There was an oomph as the air left her lungs. Her eyes widened. She ran a finger along the wood grain and shook her head. That was always Barney’s favorite part.

  “Purty, ain’t she?”

  “Leah’s going to love this, Barney. It’s just what she needs.”

  “You gonna wait until the party to give it to her?”

  “No,” Ellen said. “We’re going to give it to Leah now. Partly because we don’t think we can keep it a secret any longer, but mostly because it’ll soften the blow. You know, if the day doesn’t go well.”

  “Now, Miss Ellen, I know y’all only been here two months, but you just gotta have some faith. Why don’t you give Mabel a little push into the carriage house while I get this outta the truck. Need to shine her up right quick.”

  Ellen wheeled Mabel into the garage and got another “I love you” for her effort. Barney carried Leah’s present from the truck to the middle of the concrete floor and removed the blanket. He pulled a shop rag from the chest pocket of his overalls, turned his cap backward, and went to work on the thin layer of grime that had accumulated more from the blanket than from the two-block trip from the Treasure Chest.

  “She an artist, your Leah?”

  Ellen set the brake on Mabel’s chair and said, “A budding one, at least. Leah loves to draw. I think it helps her, especially now. We’re still getting used to things.”

  “Figure it’s a shock, movin’ from the city,” Barney said. “Us country folk do things different. Not better, I reckon, at least not in some ways. Just different. Never been up here to the Fox home, as we call it. Seems an awful big place for just three people.”

  “We just fell in love with the house,” Ellen said. “The upstairs needs some remodeling, so we’re just living in the downstairs for now. The previous owner made a fantastic master bedroom in the back of the house.”

  “Henrietta Fox never cared much for steps once age took hold of her,” Barney said. “Heard she had some work done.”

  “We turned the parlor into Leah’s bedroom. She wanted to stay close.”

  “Can’t blame neither of you for that,” Barney said. “New town, new house. I imagine all that strangeness would be hard on a little’un.”

  “We like it here just fine. People have been very nice. Very . . . welcoming.”

  “Ayuh.” Barney finished, slapped the rag against the wood one last time, and stepped back for a last look. Mabel approved with a small, catlike eck. The rag went back into his front pocket, the blanket back over Leah’s present. He turned back and smiled. “You’re nice to say that, Miss Ellen, though I know it ain’t true. That’s one of them kindly lies that won’t get you sent to hell for the tellin’. I know y’all are stuck by yourselves.”

  Ellen had no answer. Truth don’t need an answer, Mabel liked to say. Or used to.

  “Ain’t no excuse for it,” Barney said, “but there’s reason. Most folk here got kin buried either in their fields or over in Oak Lawn goin’ back generations. We all grown up together, you see? Like a family. Takes us awhile to get used to people from Away. But you said your Tom’s one of them headshrinkers, so I expect he can explain all that.”

  “He can,” Ellen said, but she said it in a funny way that told Barney she was going to ask Tom no such thing. “And I can understand it too. It’s just that Leah can’t. The move’s been hard on her. Tom says that deep down, people just want to be loved. Leah gets plenty of that from us, but not so much from anyone else. Because she’s . . . how’d you put it? ‘From Away.’ But the truth is that she didn’t fare much better back in Stanley. She’s just so shy. Shy and scared of her own shadow. We’ve taken her to speech therapy and counseling, but her progress has just been so slow. I guess the truth is it doesn’t matter where Leah is, Barney, she’ll always be from Away. Mabel’s the only one she’s really taken a shine to. Isn’t that right, Mabel?”

  “I love you,” Mabel said. She coughed again.

  Ellen smiled and turned back to Barney. “We’re just trying to pull Leah up out of that dark hole before it’s too late. I don’t know what’s keeping her and Tom.”

  The Celebration Time men interrupted to say everything was ready and they would be back in the evening to pack up. They hoped the birthday girl had a great time and that everyone showed, given that it was gonna be a hot one. Ellen and Barney thanked them.

  “Hard rain falls on us all from time to
time,” Barney said when the men left. Mabel looked at him. Her fingers danced on the vinyl armrests of her wheelchair. More spittle leaked from her mouth. Barney retrieved his shop rag and tended to her dignity. “Ten years ago when Mabel had her stroke, Doc March said ’twas a miracle she survived. Said the same when she started talkin’ again, even if all she says is the same thing over an’ over. We’s in a dark hole too for a while. But we’ll get there, Mabel an’ me. Your Leah too.” He struggled with the pride that threatened to cut off his next words and managed to set it aside. “Want to thank you again for the chance to make your young’un’s present. We need the money, don’t mind sayin’ that. But I needed the satisfaction more.”

  “And we want to thank you for doing such a magnificent job.” Ellen took three steps toward the blanket and reached out. She drew her hand back as two shadows crossed the garage’s entrance. “Here they come.”

  Tom was smiling when they entered. He said hello to Mabel—“I love you,” she answered—and shook Barney’s hand. Leah’s eyes went up long enough to see the covered something in the middle of the floor.

  “Where have you two been?” Ellen asked.

  “Th-there’s a man in the buh-backyard at my special puh-place,” Leah whispered to her. “He was suh-singing.”

  Ellen exchanged a look with Tom, who shrugged.

  “Hello, little Leah,” Barney said. “Happy birthday to you.”

  “Hello, Mr. Buh-Barney.” Leah’s eyes went from Ellen’s to her own feet. She smiled at her shoelaces. She stepped around her parents and brushed the hair out of Mabel’s eyes. “Hello, Muh-Miss Mabel.”

  “I love you,” Mabel slurred.

  When Leah said she loved Mabel back, Barney thought he saw tears in Ellen’s eyes.

  Tom said, “Leah, your mom and I want to give you your present now, before everyone comes.”

  There was another downward smile and another upward glance.

  “Go ahead, honey,” Barney said. “From what your momma says, it’s just what you need.”

  Leah inched toward the middle of the garage and regarded her gift as if it had teeth that could bite. She took a step back and pulled down on the blanket. It slipped free without a sound and dropped to the floor.

  The easel was nearly as tall as Leah, stretched upward on four wooden legs with a perpendicular workspace half as wide as the frame was tall. The wood had been sanded and primed to a glow so bright it seemed to pulse with life. A roll of drawing paper was fastened to the top, the first page pulled through a small opening at the top and held in place by three wooden dowels at the bottom. Just below the dowels, a pullout drawer adorned with a brass knob beckoned. Leah reached out a shaky hand and opened it. A wooden divider ran crossways through the inside of the drawer, separating an assortment of wide and thin brushes in the back and seven small jars of watercolor paints—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet, all arranged in rainbow order. Her eyes bulged at the sight and cut toward Barney. There was a small click as she pushed the drawer closed.

  “Well?” Ellen asked. “What do you think?”

  Leah turned away, head down and smile there, and ran toward the sound of her mother’s voice. She hugged Ellen and then Tom. Then she walked over to Barney and hugged him as well.

  “It’s the muh-most b-b-beautiful thing I’ve ever suh-s-seen,” she said. “Thank you so muh-much, Mr. Buh-Barney. It’s so w-wonderful.”

  Barney’s arms went slack and then tightened around Leah’s yellow dress. His smile was as big as his eyes were wet. That was always his favorite part too.

  “No, child,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Leah let Barney go and turned to her father. “C-can I puh-paint now, Puh-Pops?”

  “Not quite yet, Leah-boo. The party’s ready to start.”

  Those last words were a noxious cloud that hung in the air longer than the exhaust from the Celebration Time trucks. Tom was the first to mimic Leah’s downward gaze. Ellen followed. Mabel was last, though Barney thought that was more due to weariness than worry.

  “Now let me tell y’all somethin’,” Barney said. “Mattingly folk like to keep to their own, ain’t no doubt about that. But we’re also plenty nosy, and that’s what I’m countin’ on. Ol’ Henrietta Fox lived up in this house for years and didn’t let no one near the door. That white fence y’all got on these five acres? Might as well’ve been Fort Knox, and I ain’t kiddin’. Now she up and passes on into the next life, God rest her soul . . .”

  Barney held his hat to his chest. He wouldn’t continue until Tom did the same. The doctor did, though reluctantly and without knowing why.

  “She passes on, and a family of city folk move in. And now there’s this birthday party for their young’un, and ol’ Barney’s done spread the word that everybody’s invited. Trust me, they’s gonna come.”

  Barney’s impassioned plea fell on deaf ears. That was just as well—secretly, even he didn’t believe his words.

  Yet just then from beyond the raised garage door came the sound of slowing vehicles. A caravan of trucks and cars wound its way up the lane toward the house. Dozens of them in slow procession, there and not and there again as they moved among the magnolias. Rusty tailpipes and chattering voices sent the robins and jays into neighboring yards.

  “They’s comin’,” Barney said. He let out a “Ha!” that made Tom and Ellen smile and Mabel profess her love. That joy was balanced by the fear in Leah’s eyes. Barney placed a hand upon her shoulder and told her it would all be okay. The hard part was over. Everything would be bright now.

  3

  Allie Granderson had been in the middle of the convoy that approached the people-from-Away’s big fancy house. In the backseat of her daddy Marshall’s truck, to be exact, and with Mary Granderson’s reminder to behave like a lady fresh in her mind. That exhortation had dwindled the moment she spotted the puffy blue-and-yellow bouncy-bounce in the backyard. It had gone away completely when she saw Zach Barnett crawl inside.

  It had taken awhile to jump her way over to him. It wasn’t a woman’s place to call on a man—so her momma said—which meant a bit of craftiness was in order. Allie had jumped with the smaller kids near the front first, her friends in the middle second. The June breeze barely seeped through the tiny holes of the nylon mesh that enclosed the space. By the time Allie had gotten close to Zach, the air whiffed of sweat and feet.

  He and his friends had welcomed her—the boys in town respected Allie as nearly an equal. She could jump as high, run as fast, and throw rocks as far as anyone. When it came to recess games, she was often picked before all the boys except Zach.

  Dear, sweet Zach, who had just moments before performed an awkward but successful somersault in the Moon Bounce solely for Allie’s benefit. They’d jumped until their feet were slick and their knees ached. Then Zach had whispered in Allie’s ear that she was pretty. That had been enough for them to sneak away to the side of the house.

  “I love you, Zach Barnett,” Allie had told him, but only after she’d looked to make sure the side of the house was theirs. “I’m gonna be your missus one day. So let’s just peck right here, and we’ll be promised.”

  Zach had balked at the idea at first, saying that kissing girls was gross and he was too young to be entertaining thoughts of holy matrimony. And then he’d added that just because a girl could kick a ball and chuck a rock didn’t mean she’d grow up to be pretty and make a good supper. But there was magic in the air that day, and that shine had crept through the tiny holes of the Moon Bounce and clung to them even if the breeze had not. Zach had turned his head to make sure they were alone and then aimed his lips at Allie’s jaw. She bucked at first—Allie expected a peck on the cheek but never that—but then felt her knees weaken. She opened her eyes to see a yellow balloon untangle itself from a tree and float into the blue sky.

  “Don’t you go blabbing, Allie Granderson,” Zach said. “You do, and I won’t love you no more.”

  Then he ran off, leaving her to
swoon.

  Now she mingled amongst the crowd and tried to get the feeling back in her legs. Allie found her parents beside the biggest popcorn machine she’d ever seen, talking with a man she did not know. Barney and Mabel Moore were with them. To Allie’s dismay, so was the sheriff. She took a deep breath and tried to act natural.

  “Where you been, young’un?” Marshall Granderson asked.

  “Playin’ in the bouncy-bounce,” Allie told him. “Hey there, Sheriff Jake. I ain’t seen your son nowheres.”

  “Okay,” the sheriff said. “I expect Zach’s with Kate somewhere.”

  Allie nodded, proud of her subterfuge. “Can I have some popcorn, Momma? And hey there, Mr. Barney.” She bent down to find Mabel’s eyes and yelled, “I love you, Miss Mabel.”

  “I love you,” Mabel told her.

  Barney smiled at Allie and tugged on one of her pigtails. He turned to the strange man beside him. “Tom, this here’s Allie Granderson, Marshall and Mary’s daughter. Allie, this is Dr. Norcross, Leah’s daddy.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Doctor Norcross,” Allie said. She curtsied despite her cutoff jeans and T-shirt and winked at her momma. “This is the best party ever. It’s even better than the carnival. Are y’all comin’ to the carnival? Best time in town all year long.”

  The man smiled and dug a silver scoop into the mound of popcorn. He was about her daddy’s age, maybe younger, but thin with just a speckle of gray at his temples. His cap was new and bore neither a fishing hook nor camouflage. Still, Allie liked him.

  “I expect we might,” he said. “Nice to meet you, little Miss Allie Granderson. And thank you for coming.” He handed Allie the bag and said to the rest, “Really, thank you for coming. Ellen and I were afraid the heat might keep everyone away.”

  “We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Marshall said. He slapped Tom on the back hard enough to buckle the doctor’s knees, which made the sheriff steady him and Allie laugh. “Everybody in town wants to know all about the city folk what bought crazy old Henrietta Fox’s house. God rest her soul.”