The Scent of Lilacs

by Ann H. Gabhart

  Zella overheard the plans and said, “Well, my word, David, why don’t you ask me and Wesley along too?”

  “Well, I would, Zella, but I don’t think we have any more room in the car,” he said. “I’ll tell you what. You could ride over with Wes on his motorcycle.”

  Zella rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what Leigh sees in you.”

  “Me either,” he agreed.

  “It’s okay, Zella,” Leigh said. “I love to go shopping.”

  “I think you might as well leave David at home,” Zella said.

  “Oh, no. He’s paying for dinner,” Leigh said.

  Later Leigh caught Jocie alone as they bundled up the papers. “Do you think going to Grundy tomorrow can count as a date?”

  “Closer than Sunday morning church,” Jocie said. “But maybe not quite there yet. But then again, I’m no expert. Maybe you’d better ask Zella. She seems to know the rules. You think she used to have a boyfriend?”

  “Who knows? After the last couple of weeks, I’m ready to believe anything is possible,” Leigh said.

  “Maybe you picked the wrong guy to make eyes at. The Lord seems to have overloaded Dad with family blessings.”

  “I don’t think anybody can ever have an overload of blessings. I just want your father to start counting me in those blessings.” She looked over to where David was helping Wes load the papers on the cart. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he looked around and smiled. Leigh’s face lit up as if she’d just opened a gift she’d been wanting for months.

  Jocie didn’t know whether she was trying to encourage or discourage Leigh when she said, “Don’t you have to have a goodnight kiss for it to be a real date?”

  Leigh’s cheeks turned red. “I haven’t kissed a boy since I was in eighth grade and we played spin the bottle at one of the kids’ houses. I won’t know how.”

  Jocie took pity on her. “Dad won’t be in practice either. You’ll be in the same boat.”

  Leigh laughed. “The same boat sounds nice.”

  “Even with all the rest of us in there too?”

  “Especially with all the rest of you in there too,” Leigh said. “Instant family. I’m an only child, and I’ve always wanted more family.”

  The next day Jocie made a list of things she’d need for school. New shoes, socks, skirts and blouses, bras. Maybe she’d just hand the list to Leigh so she wouldn’t have to ask out loud. Still, she’d already talked to Leigh about her and her dad kissing. Talking about bras should be a piece of cake after that.

  She had her list finished and rewritten twice by nine o’clock. She couldn’t just sit around watching Aunt Love knit and Tabitha nap till her father showed up after lunch, so she rode her bike into town to help Wes clean the press or something.

  But Wes wasn’t there. He had taken a piece off the press to the welding shop for repairs. Her father was gone too, out to Hungry Run Road to take pictures of Harvey Smith’s tobacco field that had been hit by a hailstorm the night before. That just left Zella, who put Jocie to work stuffing envelopes with subscription renewal notices so she could pump her about how the stepmother quest was going.

  “So I hear your father invited Leigh to church last Sunday,” Zella said as she handed Jocie a pile of renewal notices.

  “Dad invites lots of people to church every week. That’s part of his job.”

  “Every Christian’s job, in fact,” Zella agreed. “But he doesn’t invite Leigh to his church every Sunday. How did it go?”

  “You mean church? Fine, I guess,” Jocie said before licking an envelope and sealing it. “I don’t know. Like church always goes, I suppose.”

  “But at least your father asked her. That’s a huge step forward for him. Of course, it would be better if he invited her on a picnic. Just the two of them with a wicker basket full of food, some lemonade, and a blanket to sit on.” Zella got a dreamy look on her face and sighed. “Now that would be romantic.”

  “Did you ever go on a picnic like that?” Jocie asked.

  Zella’s eyes narrowed. “I could have if I’d wanted to. I never wanted to.”

  “Maybe Dad doesn’t want to either.” Jocie folded another renewal notice. “And even if he did, knowing his luck, something would go wrong. There’d be ants, or he’d forget the glasses for the lemonade, or there would be a bull who didn’t want to share his pasture.”

  “Or you’d decide to go along so you could mess things up,” Zella said.

  “What makes you think I’d want to mess things up? I like Leigh. She’s going to teach me to dance.”

  “Dance? If she teaches anybody to dance, it should be your father.”

  “I don’t think preachers do much dancing,” Jocie said.

  “Then neither should preachers’ daughters.”

  “Of course, Dad might not be a preacher much longer. He’s trying to decide whether to stay on at Mt. Pleasant. Some of them still want him to stay, and some of them don’t since they found out about Tabitha having a baby.”

  “Tabitha has a baby?” Zella’s voice sounded stretched and thin.

  “Well, not yet, but she’s going to. In a few months. I’m sorry. I figured somebody had told you. Like, maybe Leigh.” Jocie peeked at Zella over the top of the envelope she was licking. She should have let her father tell her, but it was sort of fun causing Zella to go into shock mode. “She knows. But just since Sunday. It was a surprise to her too.”

  “My word! She’s just like Adrienne.”

  Jocie was suddenly more interested. “What do you mean, like my mother? She didn’t have a baby before she was married.”

  The top of Zella’s cheeks turned pink. She snatched a tissue out of the box on her desk and dabbed her nose. “Well, no, I didn’t say that she did.” Zella crumpled the tissue and tossed it toward the trash can. She didn’t seem to notice that she missed. “But she didn’t exactly show much respect for the institution of matrimony.”

  “You mean because she ran off and left Dad?” Jocie had never seen Zella so rattled. She’d actually touched her hair and knocked a curl out of place.

  “These are questions you should ask your father.”

  “But you knew her, didn’t you? I mean, she grew up here in Hollyhill, didn’t she?”

  “Oh, I knew her all right.” Zella got a mirror out of her desk drawer and carefully smoothed down her hair. “Everybody in Hollyhill knew Adrienne, but she didn’t have much time for the likes of me.” Zella looked over the mirror at Jocie. “I mean, if it hadn’t been for me, your father would have gone broke that first year after he took over the Banner. Just ask him. He’ll tell you it’s so, but did she have any appreciation for what I did? Oh no. She never even bothered getting my name straight. Always called me Stella.”

  “You didn’t like her?”

  “Well, no, if you must know, I didn’t. Not that she cared one bit if I did. Or if any other woman liked her. Now, if I’d have worn pants, that might have been different.”

  “Are you saying she liked men better than women?”

  Zella peered into the mirror another minute before carefully placing it back into the drawer and pushing the drawer closed. “I told you these are things you should ask your father, although heaven knows he’d never say anything bad about anybody, not even Adrienne after all she did to him.”

  “What did she do to him? I mean, besides leaving.”

  “Leaving was the nicest thing she ever did to him,” Zella said. “Now, I’m not answering one more question about your mother. We didn’t get along. She wasn’t good to your father, or to you for that matter, but my mother taught me that if I couldn’t say something good about somebody to not say anything at all, so that’s what I’m going to do. Not say anything at all.”

  “You can say whatever you want,” Jocie said. “It won’t bother me. Tabitha has already told me that my mother didn’t want me. What could be worse than that? I’m just curious about her. Wouldn’t you be curious about your mother if you didn’t already know
her?”

  “Some things are better not known.”

  “Like what?” Jocie asked.

  “Like lots of things.”

  “Dad always says it’s better to know the truth.”

  “Then he can tell it to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you ask too many questions. The very idea of trying to get me to tell you things a child of your age shouldn’t even be thinking about.” Zella picked up one of the renewal notices and began fanning herself with it. “And telling me Tabitha is having a baby without the least bit of embarrassment.”

  “I’m not embarrassed about it. I think it’ll be fun to have a baby around.”

  “Well, at least nobody can blame your father for not raising her right since she’s been gone these many years. Seven or eight, isn’t it?”

  “Seven. I guess he won’t have that excuse with me.”

  “Heaven knows what he’ll have to live down with you,” Zella said. “You act like a heathen half the time as it is.”

  “I go to church two or three times a week.”

  “Going to church isn’t always the answer. Your mother went to church.”

  “She doesn’t now. Tabitha said she hadn’t been to church since she left Hollyhill. I can’t imagine.”

  “Well, I should say not. Nor should you imagine such a thing. Not if you want to be a good Christian girl.”

  “A week off every now and again wouldn’t be so bad,” Jocie said, mostly just to aggravate Zella.

  “Dear Lord, deliver me.” Zella rolled her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Zella. I know I’m being a pest. I’ll get lost if you want me to.”

  “That would be an answer to prayer, but you aren’t leaving until you finish those envelopes. Then when you’re done with that, you can run up and get some coffee at the store. If I’m going to have to put up with you, you might as well be useful. Besides, now that you’ve told me about Tabitha, you’ll have to tell me how she’s doing and when the baby’s due and if she’s picked out a name, and what about the father?”

  “She’s fine. October. Stephanie Grace. And you’ll have to ask Tabitha about the father. All I know is he had nice eyes.”

  “How in the world do you know that? About his eyes.” Zella frowned at her. “He is in California, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t know where he is. I don’t think Tabitha does either, but the only good thing she could think of to tell me was that he had nice eyes. And that he was a good drummer. But she’s going to be here this afternoon. You can get her to tell you anything else you want to know.”

  “Oh, that’s right. The family expedition to Grundy. Lord help him, maybe David will remember how to treat a woman before Leigh gets fed up.”

  “She said she likes having instant family.”

  “There’s family, and then there’s family.” Zella reached into a side drawer and pulled out a couple of dollar bills. “Here, never mind those envelopes. Go on and get the coffee before you have to go to Grundy. Who knows what Wesley might do if he doesn’t have his coffee. You know he’s bound to be running from the law somewhere.”

  “So you think he might kill somebody if the coffee runs out?”

  “I’m not saying he would. I’m just saying it isn’t a chance I want to take.”

  Jocie had the coffee and was on the way back to the Banner when she spotted old Sallie in a rickety folding chair out in front of the Grill strumming his guitar. His hat was upside down in front of his feet in case anybody was feeling generous. She hadn’t seen him for a few days, so she crossed over to see if he was okay.

  “Hey, Sallie. How’s things going? You haven’t been sick, have you?” She stayed back several steps. It wasn’t good to get too close to Sallie.

  “Not sick, just old.” Sallie strummed his guitar a couple of times before he started singing. “I like pie. I like cake, but I ain’t got no dough. No dough, no dough, dough, dough.”

  “Okay, I get the message. If I’m going to listen, I have to come up with the dough.” Jocie dropped the change she had from the coffee into his hat. Zella would yell, but her dad wouldn’t care.

  “Dough, dough, dough. Do, re, me. Me, me, me.” Sallie grinned at her as he tuned up his voice. “I was born in Hollyhill where folks know my name. I was born in Hollyhill where nobody cares. I was born in Hollyhill where we’re all the same. I was born in Hollyhill where nobody cares.”

  Ronnie Martin and Jesse Smith came out of the Grill in time to hear old Sallie’s song. “You’ve got that right, old man,” Ronnie said. “Nobody cares. Everybody wishes you’d just go on and die. The sooner the better.”

  Sallie kept grinning and strumming, but he hooked his foot out and pulled his hat under his chair. Without missing a beat, he changed songs. “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen. Nobody knows but Jesus.”

  “And he’s going to see you have some more,” Ronnie said as he grabbed Sallie’s chair and shook it. Jesse tried to snatch the old man’s hat out from under the chair, but Sallie grabbed it up, bent the straw hat double, and stuffed it under his thigh.

  Jocie grabbed Ronnie’s arm. “Leave him alone,” she said.

  Sallie was still singing. “I see trouble. Trouble coming. Trouble coming down the road.”

  Ronnie looked at Jocie as if he hadn’t even noticed she was there until she’d grabbed him. He changed targets. “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss I Love Doggies preacher’s kid. Course, your daddy isn’t going to be preacher much longer.”

  Jocie counted to ten. She wasn’t worried about being nice to Ronnie. She was just trying to keep from swinging the coffee can at his head. “Nothing you or your father can do or say will keep my father from being a preacher.”

  “Maybe he needs to do less preaching at church and more preaching at home,” Ronnie said with a sneer. “I hear your sister has a bun in the oven. A little bastard bun.”

  Behind him, Jesse giggled and Sallie changed songs to “Rock-a-Bye, Baby.” Jocie stopped counting and began rumpling the top of the sack that held the coffee can to get a better hold before she took a swipe at Ronnie’s head. “I think you’d better quit talking about my sister.”

  “Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it?” Ronnie laughed and looked over at Jesse. “I’ll bet she doesn’t even know what bastard means, even if she’s nothing but a bastard herself.”

  Sallie stopped singing. Jesse stopped giggling and said, “Come on, Ronnie. We’d better go.”

  Ronnie laughed. “What’s the matter, Jesse? You ain’t feeling sorry for her, are you? But then maybe we should feel sorry for her, seeing as how she don’t have the first idea who her real father is. That’s what a bastard is. Somebody who doesn’t have a father.”

  A terrible stillness came over Jocie. Everything seemed to freeze in place and be surrounded by bold lines as if they had stepped into a scene in a comic book. Sallie was holding his guitar up over his heart as if to protect himself and staring at her with big round eyes. Jesse was up on his toes as if he wanted to run. Ronnie was smiling at her, an awful smile full of teeth. A blood red pimple was popping out on his chin. She wanted to smash him in the face with the coffee can, but she couldn’t lift her arms. The air around her was pressing against her, making it hard to breath.

  She heard Jesse’s words as if they came through a tunnel. “What are you talking about, Ronnie? She ain’t no bastard. She’s your preacher’s kid.”

  Sallie started singing again. No words, just a mournful moaning sound. Jocie hardly noticed.

  “That ain’t what my father says. He says her mama broke up my aunt’s marriage nine months before this poor excuse for a girl was born. My aunt kicked her husband’s sorry butt out, but not the preacher man. He pretended like nothing whatever had happened. He even pretended the bastard baby was his own.” Ronnie’s eyes bored into Jocie. “My daddy says some folks can carry turning the other cheek too far.”

  Old Sallie started singing “Amazing Grace” as loud as he could. Jo
cie gripped the top of the grocery sack so hard it tore. “You’re lying,” she said.

  “You think so? Why don’t you ask your pretend-like daddy? He wouldn’t lie, now would he? Being a preacher and all.” Ronnie grinned at her. “Or ask old Sallie here. I’ll bet he knows. Old Sallie knows lots of things about people in Hollyhill that they’d just as soon nobody ever knew, don’t you, Sallie? I dare you. Ask him.”

  Old Sallie wouldn’t meet Jocie’s eyes. He just started in on a new verse of “Amazing Grace,” singing louder than ever and banging his hand against his guitar to keep time.

  She didn’t ask him anything. It would have been a betrayal of her father. She looked back at Ronnie. “You don’t know anything. My father has never lied to me.”

  “Maybe not. But then again, maybe he’s just never told you the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth, so help him God.”

  “You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in the face,” Jocie said. “And I hope it does. I hope it knocks you down and stomps on you.”

  “Looks to me like you’re the one getting stomped on,” Ronnie said.

  Jocie whirled away from him to stalk away. There wasn’t any more to say. He was lying. Plain and simple. He was just making up stories about her because his family hadn’t been able to chase her father away from Mt. Pleasant. So what if everybody in Hollyhill acted as if she’d asked them to grab hold of a hot poker every time she mentioned her mother. That didn’t mean anything. There was no doubt who her mother was whether she’d wanted Jocie or not.

  There was no doubt who her father was either. None whatsoever. She didn’t have the first doubt about that. But you don’t look like your father or your mother, a little voice whispered in a back corner of her mind. And Zella had acted strange that morning talking about her mother. But Zella had been born strange, and lots of kids didn’t look that much like their parents. Who was Ronnie Martin’s aunt anyway? Maybe more important—who was her husband?