“If you insist,” Paul said, walking back to his car for the toolbox. “Why don’t you ladies go inside and get yourselves a cup of coffee and relax?”
Lola laughed. “You think that going inside is relaxing?”
“Okay,” Paul said, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lola linked arms with me. “After you’re done with all this, just knock on the door. You can’t come in, but you’ll still see what I’m talking about.”
“All right.”
“Come along, Dorothea. Let’s go have that relaxing moment.”
Stepping inside, I heard all the other girls talking through the vents. Word spread that a cute guy was outside working on the house. Giggles bounced throughout the home.
“My goodness,” I said to Lola. “All that noise for a boy.”
“Isn’t it a beautiful sound, Dorothea?”
“What? Them? No. It’s annoying.”
“Is it?” She cocked her head. “To me, they sound like teenage girls giggling over a handsome boy.”
“Yeah? That’s what it sounds like to me.”
“It’s a moment of innocence. They’re changing, my dear. Victims don’t giggle. But survivors do.”
I sighed. “Doggone it, Lola. You can never just let me be a jerk, can you?”
“That I cannot.” Lola walked toward the kitchen, pulling me along. “Let’s make some brownies.”
“You’re the best.”
Lola made the most amazing brownies. I unwrapped the cubes of bitter baking chocolate and dropped them in the double boiler, stirring constantly as they melted with the heat. I loved working in the kitchen with Lola.
“He certainly is a nice boy, isn’t he, Dorothea?” she asked, measuring the flour.
“Who? Paul? Yeah, I guess.” I tried to hold back a smile. “He was kind of like another big brother.”
“Did you have a crush on him when you were younger?” she teased.
“Maybe.” I forced an annoyed tone. “What little girl doesn’t have a crush on her big brother’s friends?”
“Oh, I don’t know. My brother never had any friends.”
I looked up from the pot, still stirring. She cut a rectangle of butter and placed it in a small pot.
“Brother?” I asked. “Seriously, Lola? You have a sister and brother?”
“Yes.” She stood next to me and turned on one of the burners under the butter. “Could you please be a dear and keep your eye on this butter? Just turn off the gas once it’s melted.”
“I can’t believe you have a brother and sister and you’ve never told me about them before.”
“Actually, dear, had. I had a brother.” She cleared her throat. “I guess I simply don’t talk about my past much, do I? I’m more interested in helping all of you heal from what happened to you.”
“But I’ve lived here for five years and I didn’t know anything about them.”
“Perhaps that is because you never asked. Besides, that was a very, very long time ago. Ages ago. It was a different life.”
“Do you mind me asking what happened to your brother?”
“Well, Dorothea, it was horrendous. I watched him die. It was terrifying.” She looked at me, her eyes severe. “Mind the butter, dear.”
I turned off the burner.
“How did he die?” I asked.
“He was murdered. I held his head in my lap. It was a violent death. There was lots of blood.” She shook her head. “Then he stopped breathing.”
“Who killed him?”
“I shall save that disclosure for another day, Dorothea. I’m sorry. I don’t know that I have it in me to share that with you today.” She turned on the mixer.
“I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry, Lola.” I had to talk so loudly over the sound of the mixer. “You don’t have to tell me.”
I took off the top part of the double boiler.
“Is the chocolate ready?” Lola asked.
“Yes.” I walked to her with the small pot.
“Fantastic.” She poured the chocolate into the mixing bowl, scraping the pot with a spatula. “You want to know something peculiar? I am always tempted to lick this chocolate from the spatula. But I know that it’s just far too bitter. It would be awful.”
“I know. It smells so good.”
“You are correct. It looks good and smells amazing. But it just wouldn’t be exactly right yet. It will only taste good with the right amount of sugar and vanilla and melted butter. It isn’t quite whole yet.”
“When I was little, I stole a square from the pantry.” I drew warm water into the sink. Added soap. “I took it up to my room. When I heard my dad walking up the steps, I shoved the whole thing into my mouth. It was nasty. Apparently, my dad thought the gagging was punishment enough.”
“Ah, yes. I’m sure he figured you wouldn’t make that mistake again.” Lola chuckled, shook her head. “Dorothea, I am so thankful that you had a loving father. It warms my heart.”
“You would have thought he was pretty cool.” I wiped my hand on a towel. “I miss my family, Lola. How did it all get so complicated?”
“Life is usually pretty complex, isn’t it? I cannot remember a time when life was smooth and easy.” She put the pan of raw brownie batter into the oven. “I must admit that I often struggle with the grief of all those I’m missing as well. I still haven’t discovered God’s good work in all of the bad that has happened.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
“I think for a long time I harbored guilt for feeling that way. Like I wasn’t relying on God completely.” She set the timer. “But, you know, I have started to wonder if that feeling of a void wasn’t the Holy Spirit trying to communicate something to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, perhaps those feelings of longing are a nudge for us to reconnect with someone who needs us. Or, just maybe, that person we’re nudged toward is someone we need.”
“Who’s missing in your life, Lola?” I asked.
“Again, a topic for another day.” She handed me the timer. “But for now I need to get a little rest. Would you please check on the brownies in about twenty-five minutes? Do the toothpick test on them to see if they’re done. Thank you.”
Lola went up to her room, the smallest in the house. She constantly insisted on the smallest, ugliest, most undesirable portion of all we had. She took the ugly winter coat from the donations. Chose to sleep on the lumpiest mattress. Took the thinnest blankets. Went last through the line at meals and ate the burnt piece of lasagna. And she was mortified if it was ever pointed out. We never talked about it, but I think it was the reason we all respected her so much.
I cleaned up the baking things, scrubbed down the counters and started a new pot of coffee.
I heard a knock on the front door. I flipped on the coffee maker and walked to answer the door. A scuffle of feet moved across the upstairs floor and toward the front of the house.
“I’ve got it!” Grace screeched, opening the door. Her blond curls bounced around the fair skin of her face. She looked so pretty. I tried not to be jealous.
“Hi,” Paul said, standing in the doorway. “Um, do you mind if I talk to Dot for a minute?”
“Dot?” Grace asked. “Who the monkey breath is Dot?”
“Me.” I nudged my way past her. “Dot was what everyone called me when I was little.”
“Oh. That’s kind of cute, I guess,” she said, teasing.
“Do you need something, Paul?” I asked, ignoring her.
“Paul, huh? Now that is a nice name.” Grace smiled at him, pushing herself back in front of me. “So, how does a guy like you know a girl like Dorothea?”
“Yeah. Well, we grew up across the street from each other.” He held his finger in a bandana. A tiny spot of blood soaked through. “Listen, I know I can’t come in or something. But I just need a clean wash rag or bandage.”
“Oh my gosh! You’re bleeding! Let me take
care of that for you.” Grace took him by the elbow and tugged him into the kitchen. “That’s a lot of blood!”
“Seriously, Grace. You know he can’t be in here!” I said.
“But he’s about to bleed to death. Lola wouldn’t be mad.” She winked at me over her shoulder. “She would want us to help the poor guy.”
“He’s not bleeding that much.” I walked quickly, following them. I didn’t like her touching him. “He’s fine, Grace.”
She turned on the faucet. As she rinsed his hand under the running water she let loose a fury of her very best vocabulary. He turned his head and looked at me, unsure of how to handle her.
“I’ll take care of it from here, Grace,” I said. “Thanks. You may have just saved his life.”
“Yeah, whatever, Dot.” She smiled at Paul. “It sure was nice to meet you. I hope you come by more often.”
“Thanks,” Paul said.
Grace strutted out of the kitchen and to the stairs. Several pair of feet clomped up the steps. The group of chattering girls gathered in my room. I could hear every word they said. And it made me shake my head and smile.
“We don’t really get all that many guys around here. We aren’t always sure how we should act.” I handed him a bandage. “I think you can figure out how to do that yourself.”
“My mom’s a nurse. I think I can manage.”
Another wave of loud laughter erupted from upstairs.
“Oh, my.” I said. “We’d better get you outside. You really aren’t allowed in here.”
“Fine by me.” He started toward the front door.
“I’ll meet you out there. You want a cup of coffee?” I called after him.
“Actually, a glass of water would be nice.” He turned and smiled at me before walking out to the porch.
I poured my coffee and some water for him and headed out to Paul. The girls pressed their faces against my bedroom window. We could see them from the bottom step of the porch.
“Goodness.” I said. “Could they be any more obvious?”
“Well, I have to be honest, I’m a little flattered. I don’t get that kind of attention everywhere I go.” He winked at me. “And all I had to do was catch my finger on a rusty nail.”
His wink made my heart beat faster.
“Oh. I hope you’re all up to date on your shots,” I said, flustered, unable to think of anything else to say.
“I’m not a dog, you know.” He laughed.
I smiled and handed him his glass.
“Thanks.” He drank. “This is quite a place you have here.”
“Well, it’s Lola’s house. We just live here.”
“Are you all foster kids?”
“Kind of,” I said. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”
“But why in this neighborhood? I mean, no offense or anything, but isn’t this a dangerous area?”
“Only if you aren’t from around here.” I sat on the steps. “An unfamiliar face gets people a little touchy.”
“Oh.” He sat next to me.
“But don’t worry. You’re with us. That speaks well for a guy around these parts.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because our neighbors keep their eyes on what happens here. You were helping out Lola. That earned you major points.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He wiped the beads of water from his glass. “What would happen if I wasn’t ‘okay’ here?”
“Oh, they’d let you know. They don’t waste time. If they don’t like somebody it’s pretty obvious. Your car would be stripped down or they’d beat you up.”
“Yikes.”
“Yup. I can’t tell you how safe that makes us feel.”
“That makes you feel safe?”
“Yeah. Hardly anybody comes around to mess with us.”
“Well, that makes sense.”
We sat and talked a little about the things he thought needed to be done on the house. He’d thought about asking a group of college guys to come do a work trip to our neighborhood. He dreamed about the possibilities of fixing up the vacant lot at the end of the street to create a park or neighborhood garden.
I felt a smile on my face as he spoke. Very few people would have been brave enough to come into this area, let alone want to change it for the better and for the right reasons. The fear of others from the college learning about my neighborhood had faded. I just sat in awe of his ideas for brightening up that dark place.
“I mean, just because it’s a poorer area of town doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be nice and safe. You know?” he said, excited. I liked his enthusiasm. “We could do a whole lot of work here. I mean, not that Lola isn’t already. But we could add a whole different dimension to it.”
“No, I understand what you’re saying.”
“I just think that Jesus would want us to bring more of Him to this street.”
“The kids around here need to know how important they are.”
“Exactly,” he said, looking right into my eyes. “Seems to me a lot of people need to know they’re special. Not just the kids.”
“Wow.” I turned my head, unable to keep his gaze, too caught up in an intensity that overwhelmed me.
“Well, enough of my dreaming for today.” He stood, handed me his glass. “I really have to get going. I’ve got a class tonight. If I skip it one more time I might fail.”
“That wouldn’t be good.”
I stood next to him. A few inches shorter than him, I had to look up at his face.
“Listen, Dot, it’s really nice to know that you’re okay.”
“Well, I’m not sure I’m so ‘okay,’” I joked.
“No, I’m not kidding. I mean it. I wondered about you all the time after you went away.”
“Thanks.”
“Listen, you just tell me if you ever need anything. I’ll even skip a class. I don’t care if it makes me fail. Seriously.” He took a scrap of paper from his pocket and wrote his number on it with a small pencil. “Call me whenever you want.”
“Okay.” I took the paper.
“You know, I want to see you again. Soon. I feel like I just got you back in my life. I’m not ready to let you go again.” He started walking to his car. “How about I pick you up tomorrow night at six for dinner. My treat. Unless you have other plans.”
“No. I never have plans.” Shoot. That was dumb. “I mean, I would really like that. As long as it isn’t fast food.”
“Then you pick the place.” He reached his car. “Maybe you can give me the Dot Schmidt life update.”
“Sounds great.” I waved. “See you tomorrow.”
He drove away. He was gone, but the flush on my cheeks didn’t stop burning.
Then I panicked. What if Lola wouldn’t let me go on a date? Was it a date? How could I tell him about my life? What would I wear?
“Oh, golly gee,” I said under my breath.
I heard all the girls in the house tumble down the steps. When I walked inside they surrounded me.
We giggled together. The timer buzzed and I got the brownies out of the oven. We sat, eating the goopy, warm chocolate and chatting about boys.
Just like normal girls.
Cora – 27
“I thought I’d bring you something different today. It’s getting a little too cold for sodas,” Lisa said, placing a lidded paper cup in front of me. “I just got you a mint mocha. Have you ever had one of those?”
“Oh, goodness, it has just been so long since I had good coffee,” I answered. “All they give us here is the cheap, watered down stuff. It is horrible.”
“Wow. That’s something I’ll have to bring up with Dr. Emmert.”
I sipped the coffee. The espresso and milk and chocolate and whipped cream hit my taste buds with a richness of flavor that I had all but forgotten. I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply. “Oh, that is good. Thank you.”
“I’m so glad you like it.”
“I do. Very much.” I sipped again. “If you’re ever able
to break me out of here I think I’d like to go get coffee.”
“You would love it, Cora. They have a whole case of baked goods. Carrot cakes and muffins and scones.” She licked her lips. “They even have cookies the size of your head.”
“Really?” My stomach yearned for something decadent.
“Yes. Really. How about I bring you one of those cookies when I come tomorrow? They have just about any kind you can think of.”
“Oh, I’m going to be real boring. I’d just like chocolate chip.”
“I can get that for you.”
“It’s strange. You know, I haven’t really wanted to eat since Steven died. You mention cookies and, all the sudden, my stomach starts growling.”
“Well, I think that’s a pretty good thing.”
“Me too.” I sighed, took another drink. “I’m ready to start. Where did I leave off yesterday?”
“Your father was taking Marlowe away.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
~*~
After Titus packed up what few belongings Marlowe had, my father led her to his beat-up truck. She did not fight. She did not cry. She just went along with him. Like a lamb to the slaughter.
And all to save our family. But she didn’t know at the time that her sacrifice wouldn’t save a single one of us. Her leaving would simply be another step in our disintegration. It merely prolonged the inevitable destruction.
I stood on the porch, watching, as my father drove the truck away. She looked back one last time, her face framed by the rusted-out truck. Her hair still in two braids that I’d put in her hair before church. Fingering the braids she’s put in mine, I slouched. Frowned. Cried.
I watched the better half of me being taken to be ruined. I didn’t know what went on at Ducky’s. But I knew it was evil.
So evil that the pastor in the old mountain church called down fire and damnation on the establishment weekly. And yet the building remained. The pastor condemned the patrons to hell. And yet many of the men in the congregation crept away from their wives and children to play cards, get drunk, or spend time with the girls. The members of the church cried out their agreements of the judgment on the debauchery with many roars of “Amen” and “Preach it.” And yet many of them gave most or all of their earnings to pay off bar tabs or gambling debts. The preacher called for all of us to shun Ducky, to walk to the other side of the street should we happen to run across him in town. Yet half of the pastor’s income came directly from Ducky. He called it righteous penance.
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