Little Town, Great Big Life

by Curtiss Ann Matlock

  Andy looked over her shoulder and saw the boy, who appeared to be gazing at the café. “That kid is strange.”

  “Not really, it’s just that he…” She bit her lip and looked away.

  “He what?”

  She moved to the cash register. “He’s mentally handicapped. I thought you knew.”

  “Oh, yeah. I heard something about that.”

  Fayrene watched Andy go back to the office and stared for some minutes after he had disappeared. Only a few of them in town knew, but never told, the truth of Willie Lee.

  The following afternoon, Andy looked up from the computer to see the boy in the office doorway, gazing at him. Andy did not say anything, and neither did the boy. Then the boy turned and left.

  Five minutes later, when Andy came out of the office, the boy was at the counter eating another piece of raisin pie and talking with Fayrene. As Andy slipped behind Fayrene on his way to get a cup of coffee, he caught the boy saying, “Mr. Winston says the carousel…”

  Coming back past the two, he heard Fayrene saying, “…ask him if I’m ever gonna get married.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Andy asked.

  “Uh…oh, we’re just rememberin’ Winston,” Fayrene said.

  The boy blinked at Andy behind his thick eyeglasses. There was something unnerving about the look.

  “Uh-huh,” Andy said, and quickly headed back to the office.

  CHAPTER 23

  Welcome to Your World, Sweetie Pie

  BELINDA FELT THE FIRST CONTRACTIONS WHEN she was telling Everett on the Wake Up show that she thought the Valentine Carousel Park should be renamed Winston Valentine Park.

  “We need a town monument to Winston.”

  Belinda had taken the death of Winston harder than anyone had ever seen her take anything, even her own father’s death.

  She told Lyle through the tears that seemed to come all the time these days, “You know, I loved Daddy, but even when Daddy was there, most of the time he wasn’t there. But Winston was always there, even when he wasn’t there. And now he is not here and never will be again.”

  Lyle could think of nothing to say to that. He bought her flowers, sugar-free candy and the entire PBS Masterpiece Miss Marple Mystery Series I and II on DVD.

  Seeing Belinda heartbroken as she was rattled Paris badly, yet brought out the sense of purpose to fix the situation that she had not enjoyed since her grandfather had been taken away. Paris played chess with Belinda in the evenings, and phoned several times a day between classes and her job. She also brought home packages of Little Debbie chocolate snack cakes, which she rationed to Belinda, giving her one and taking one for herself.

  The third day that she did this, Belinda looked at the cupcake, then shook her head and said, “I’m swearin’ off of them. I gotta take care of my little girl.”

  Watching Belinda stroke her belly, Paris suspected then that so much of Belinda’s melancholy was tied up with worry over something possibly happening to her baby.

  Now Everett said through the phone, “That’s a good idea for taking a poll! Let’s have some call-ins and discuss this matter—who wants to change the name of Carousel Park to Winston Valentine Park? There are a lot of things to consider on this—”

  Belinda cut in. “Nothing else really matters but what is right. Winston had the idea for the carousel. It is his. Everyone who wants to name the park Winston Valentine Park, call in and say so. Everyone who does not, just keep quiet.”

  “Well, that’s not really a poll,” said Everett, back to his annoying voice. “And there are some considerations…and maybe suggestions on what else we might name the park.”

  “Do not confuse the issue with a lot of talk. Everyone who wants to name the park Winston Valentine Park, phone in quick. Jim, are you listenin’? Play some sort of sound and get it started.”

  Jim Rainwater instantly complied. The ring of a bell and a man saying, “They’re off!” sounded.

  This helped propel Belinda to throw her legs off the bed and push herself and her belly upward. At the same time, a pain around her middle surprised her.

  “Belinda? Belinda, are you still there?” Everett’s voice from out of the phone.

  “Yes…honey,” she said a little breathlessly.

  “I appreciate you calling in yesterday and today and helping me get the ball rolling again on Carousel Park. We’ve got to get interest kindled again. We’ve got the celebration coming up in ten days.” His voice went up in pitch. “And we already have the park sign. It’s gonna cost to change that. I don’t know…”

  Belinda pressed a hand into her side. “Honey, excuse me, but I have to get to the bathroom.” She sure hoped she was not on the air.

  “You call back anytime,” said Everett earnestly.

  She kissed Lyle goodbye, and waved a ten-dollar bill at Paris on her way out to school. “Here, you get a good lunch.”

  “I don’t need ten dollars for lunch.”

  “Well, you may need it for somethin’.”

  “You don’t have to keep givin’ me—”

  Belinda waved the bill. “Sugar, when anyone gives you money, take it. Now go on and be smart and don’t do anything foolish.”

  Paris took the bill but tossed over her shoulder, “I don’t think a person should take money from any stranger, though.” A minute later there came the sound of the back door closing, and seconds later the roar of Paris’s old car starting and going away down the driveway.

  Alone at last.

  Belinda got out of bed and went to the bathroom to look in the full-length mirror. She turned first right, then left, then back to her front again. Her belly looked very odd. The lump was moving downward.

  Definitely dropping.

  Well, she was not telling anyone until she was sure. She did not want to be embarrassed by false runs to the hospital.

  She got back in bed and searched through two of the pregnancy books to read about the signs of being in labor. Apparently she could have already been in labor a half-dozen times. It was such a general thing.

  “They come and they go,” Belinda explained to Nurse Betty on the phone.

  “Where are they now?”

  “Well…I don’t have one now.” Belinda could feel her blood pressure rising, as it perpetually did when speaking to the woman.

  Nurse Betty cleared her throat in a pointed manner. “I mean, are you having pains at regular intervals?”

  “I had one about twenty minutes ago, I think. Only they aren’t pains. They are just more…discomforts.”

  “No bleeding?”

  “No.” Belinda’s eyes widened with the idea.

  “Uh-huh…you know, being pregnant, you are goin’ to have all kinds of aches and pains.”

  Thank you, thought Belinda, and bit her bottom lip.

  Nurse Betty said, “You are not quite thirty-seven weeks. It could be gas pains. Your appointment is in two days. I think you can just wait and see the doctor then. Don’t worry—you’ll know when you are in labor.”

  “How am I gonna know?” Belinda said, making a face at the phone as she hung up.

  She read from the book again, but it was no more helpful. She could be having those false labor contractions. She did not quite feel as she had months earlier in preterm labor.

  “Hi, sugar. How are you feelin’ today?” Her mother appeared through the bedroom doorway.

  “Fine, Mama.” Belinda pressed her side and considered for a brief second asking her mother how to tell if she were in labor.

  “Well…” Her mother moved a pile of clothes so she could sit in the chair. “I brought you a few grilled chicken breasts and some coleslaw and a can of cranberry sauce, and Inez sent a bowl of her ambrosia. I put it all in the refrigerator.”

  “I appreciate that, Mama….”

  “I asked Inez if she had added any sugar to her ambrosia, and she said she didn’t.”

  “Uh-huh. Listen, have you heard the Wake Up show with Everett?”

&nb
sp; “No, honey…I haven’t listened since the day Winston died. I just can’t.”

  “Well, that’s the problem with everyone. Nobody is listenin’ to the show. Nobody is payin’ attention to the park and the carousel. And Winston started it all. We can’t just let it go—we need to get the name of the park changed to Winston Valentine Park. I can’t stand it if his name just disappears.”

  She plucked at a pillow, realizing she sounded upset, especially when her mother answered with a soothing voice.

  “Sugar, people are payin’ attention to the park. Just this mornin’ it was set for Jaydee and I to meet Reba McEntire and escort her for the centennial celebration and park dedication. I know it isn’t quite the same without a carousel and Winston, but we’ll get a carousel, and…well, we’ll always have Winston in our hearts.”

  “That is not the same! The park needs to be Winston Valentine Park.”

  Her mother gazed at her as if taking her temperature. Whatever she saw prompted her to say smartly, “You are right. We do need to name the park after Winston. We should have done that from the beginning.”

  “Well, I started the ball rolling on the Wake Up show this mornin’. I think it would be a big help if you called around and asked people to tune in to the show tomorrow, and to call in and vote for the name change. And maybe get a conversation started about why can’t we find that carousel. Lyle does not know anything. He says it is in the hands of the CBI and the FBI, and—”

  “What’s the CBI?” her mother interrupted with a puzzled frown.

  “California Bureau of Investigation. The carousel was shipped from California, so they’re in charge out there—them and the FBI. Lyle says that the FBI has a lot more important things to work on than a single shipment of a carousel. But Winston would not have stood for this, Mama…just waitin’ around.”

  Her throat felt thick again.

  “Well, there’s no tellin’ what Winston might have done,” her mother said. “Are these clothes clean?”

  “No. I think you should go to Tate Holloway and see what he knows, and if he has any ideas of what can be done.”

  “All right. I guess if anyone would know, it would be Tate.” Her mother seemed to be drifting off in thought.

  “Go today, Mama.”

  “I will, sugar.” Her mother’s gaze came back to her. “And I’ll have Jaydee make a few calls. He knows people. Between all of us, we’ll get things movin’ along. Now you just calm down, sugar, and get some rest.”

  “Mama, I don’t know how I can rest any more than I am. I’m in bed day and night!”

  “I know, sugar, but it’ll be over soon. I’ll just take these clothes to your laundry room.” Her mother wisely beat a retreat, calling brightly from the back door, “I enjoyed visitin’. I’ll call you later.”

  Hearing the door close, Belinda gave a large sigh, looked around the room of which she was sorely tired and listened to the silence. She picked at the bed covers while staring into space.

  The silence grew, and so did the emotions inside. She needed to speak to someone, to talk about how she felt about the abortion. She wanted more than anything in that moment to talk to Winston about it. If only she had talked to him when he had been alive….

  Little Desirée Jane moved, seeming to do a flip. Belinda felt the tightness go all the way around her middle.

  It did feel like gas.

  Get up, get up, you slee-py-head!

  Oh, Winston, hush.

  She did not want to wake up. She was tired.

  But the next instant a baby’s crying brought her eyes opening wide.

  Her baby’s crying.

  She jumped out of bed in a panic and raced around looking for the crying baby. The crib and cradle were empty! She searched frantically through all the rooms of the house, which was dark. She kept flipping on light switches, but they did not work.

  She had lost her baby! How could she have done that?

  Because she was not a very good mother, that’s how.

  Oh, God, let me find her and I’ll be better. I’ll be the best mother in the world.

  Then suddenly there was her baby, in Winston’s arms, as he sat in a white wicker rocker on the front porch of her mother’s house.

  “I’ve been looking for her everywhere!” Belinda told him with aggravation.

  Then, noting Winston smiling down tenderly at her baby, who slept peacefully, she felt great relief. And joy. Here was not only her baby, but Winston!

  She slipped into an adjacent rocker. Her mother had the porch fixed up so lovely these days, with jade plants and potted herbs, all so green against everything else painted white.

  She gazed at Winston with the baby. She told him how glad she was that he got to see her sweet Desirée Jane.

  “I’m so afraid, Winston. I don’t think I’m goin’ to make a very good mother. I’m so afraid I’m goin’ to make a mistake and hurt her…or that…God will punish me by takin’ my baby.”

  Belinda told him then, all about having the abortion years ago. Further, it was as if every bad thing she had ever done poured out of her mouth. As she spoke, she felt heavier and heavier with grief, and everything got very dim. And then, quite surprisingly, a flock of guinea hens came clucking and pecking right across the porch. Belinda had not known her mother had gotten hens.

  Winston began to talk about his mistakes, saying he had made some doozies. And then, very clearly, “God knows all we’ve ever done and are ever gonna do. We aren’t any surprise to Him.”

  Then he was smiling at her and tucking the baby into her arms. “You’ll be a fine mother.”

  “Oh, don’t go, Winston.” She reached out to grab him, but she missed.

  He smiled and said something.

  The porch had become very bright again, and the guinea hens were chattering so that she could not quite catch what else Winston was saying. It was something important, though.

  “What?”

  He paused and smiled at her, and she heard very clearly: “…already forgiven. PS 30, 5. Pass it on.”

  Quite suddenly, right as she was running after Winston, she came awake.

  She had been dreaming. So real that she glanced around, looking for Winston and the baby, and the guinea hens.

  The dream lingered. Doozies. No surprise to God. PS 30, 5.

  What was that? A flight number?

  Just then something popped inside her belly. The baby moving, her body moving. A contraction came, hard enough to cause her eyes to open wide.

  She checked the clock, picked up her tablet and pen, and noted the time. She got out of the bed and went to the bathroom, and decided to take a quick shower. While she was about this, another contraction came. She peeked from the shower at the clock. Eight minutes.

  Out of the shower, she dressed and decided to also put on her makeup. She intended to set a good example for little Desirée Jane right from the beginning. She did not want her daughter to ever be ashamed of her. She also donned the earrings that went so well with her turquoise outfit, pausing to note the time of the next contraction. Nine minutes apart. There was time to tidy up the bathroom.

  Just as she took a final check in the mirror, a hard contraction hit her. She looked down with wide eyes to see her belly ripple. Then she checked the clock.

  Oh…mercy! Five minutes apart.

  Don’t panic.

  She was ready. She got her purse and was getting her hospital bag when something happened inside her. Water gushed from between her legs.

  She looked at the mess for a moment, then grabbed a towel from the laundry and threw it on the puddle. She must be crazy, she thought, yet she simply had to clean up the mess, at the same time grabbing the phone to call Lyle, trying to ignore the voice that wanted to change clothes.

  As she listened to the ringing over the line, she stepped out of her wet panties.

  Lyle did not answer, and she could not find any panties in the basket of clean laundry.

  Taking up her hospital bag in one ha
nd and her purse in the other, she went out the door, waddling to her car in the driveway.

  At the moment Lyle’s cell phone rang, he and Giff had just seen Andy Smith come running from the alley behind the Valentine Voice and take off up Church Street, north past the Cut & Curl.

  “Now, that’s a runnin’ from, not to, wouldn’t you say?” said Giff.

  “Yep…yep, I would,” said Lyle, forgetting his phone in his observation of the man. He accelerated until he caught up with Andy.

  Andy saw the patrol car, and rather than run away from it, he waved and headed toward it, jumping into the backseat even before Lyle got fully braked.

  “Don’t shoot! I don’t have anythin’. Honest.” He held up both his hands.

  Giff and Lyle looked at each other with puzzled expressions. Neither had touched his gun nor even thought of doing so.

  “What’s up?” Giff asked Andy.

  “Ah…could you guys drive around to the sheriff’s office? I’m turnin’ myself in. I’ve got somebody after me, and I’d rather he didn’t catch me.”

  Lyle and Giff looked at each other again.

  Lyle said, “You want to see what’s goin’ on? Belinda just called. I got to call her back.”

  While he pulled the car to the curb and dialed Belinda, Giff questioned Andy. Lyle halfway listened to the men while he waited for Belinda to answer. Suddenly he realized that Andy did not have his Australian accent.

  He looked around at the man, but then heard the voice mail pick up. Belinda had not answered.

  “Belinda didn’t answer the phone,” he said to Giff, with some agitation. “Got to try her cell.”

  “Uh, fellas…could we move along?” said Andy from the backseat.

  Lyle heard Belinda’s voice with some relief. “Hey, honey. I’m sorry I missed your call, but we just picked up An—”

  “Sugar…listen. I am okay, but—now don’t panic—I’m in labor.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes. I’m not talkin’ just to hear myself talk. My water broke, Lyle!”

  “Okay, honey. Now just stay calm. I’m on my way. You be out front, and I’ll pick you up in the squad car.” He found himself yelling into the phone as he reached his hand across to shift into gear.