Javier pulled himself up and got to his feet. “I'll bet that cabrito is ready,” he said. “I hope you are still hungry?"
The visions so fresh in his mind, Lee wasn't so sure he wanted to eat just now. But when Javier opened the door to the bar-b-que and the aroma rolled out, he had an instant change of heart.
They ate on a wooden picnic table around the back of the house. Juana had brought out an earthen crock of rich, spicy beans along with a bowl of a deliciously smooth green paste she called guacamole, which smoothed the fire and delighted his taste. They showed him how to lay out a tortilla and fill it with salsa and meat. Watching them carefully Lee rolled his up just as they did, learning quickly to hold the end shut so the juice wouldn't run down his arm.
They had fun as they ate, with Juana and Javier attempting to teach him some words in Spanish. To their surprise he learned quickly, enjoying the flavor of the company as well as the food.
Lee offered to help with the dishes, since he was a guest, but Juana would not allow it. She told him, “Men don't do such things.” She carried in the plates and returned with a platter, while Javier sipped on a freshly opened beer.
"This postre is my favorite,” she said placing the dish in the center of the table. “We call it ‘tres leches,’ it means three milks.” She cut Lee a piece, scooping up lots of the white cream to drench over the soft cake she had placed on the center of his plate.
Lee could not believe the creamy sweet taste, it was like ice cream, and he tried to be polite, but just couldn't help wolfing it down, bite after creamy bite.
Juana offered him another, which he gladly accepted, and this piece disappeared as quickly as the first.
"There's still more,” she offered as he scraped the last cream from the plate.
Lee, swallowed, then shook his head. “Gracias, no,” he said, using a new word.
Juana was pleased, and her smile showed it. While Juana finished up, Lee followed Javier back to the front of the house. After flipping over the record, Javier restarted the music.
"Take a seat,” he said moving back to his own.
"Thanks, but I should go, it's getting late,” Lee said. Then he remembered to use his new Spanish again. “Gracias, amigo."
"A ti,” said Javier. “You come back any time."
There was that “Jew” again. Feeling awkward to just turn and go, Lee gave Javier a wave. He turned back to the street and jumped the ditch.
Oh, he was full.
He took the shortcut between Spit Creek and home, not wanting to walk all the way back down Seminole road. Walking along the path and nearing the Riley's house, he heard the laughing of a small child and the call of an unfamiliar voice. He emerged from the pathway through the high brush and immediately saw a girl running across the grass with a little girl toddling along behind. He purposely scuffed his shoes on the gravel when he reentered the road so that they would hear he was there.
The girl stopped running and turned to look towards the sound. The little one, her arms splayed crazily as she wobbled in pursuit, turned to look but didn't stop, running straight into the older girl's legs. Rebounding off, she fell back on her butt, landing flat on the grass. For a moment she didn't know what to do, she was so confused by suddenly finding herself plopped down on the ground. It took but a heartbeat for her to decide on her best option, screw up her face, open her mouth, and draw in a great breath to build up sufficient pressure for a really proper scream.
The toddler, her arms stuck out rigidly behind and her legs stretched out in front, let loose with a tremendous wail, fat tears rolling immediately from her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. The older girl looked away from Lee, shaking her head and smiling at the blister red face of the crying child. Bending down, she hefted her up and held her close, patting the child on the back and swinging her softly to and fro.
Lee reflexively dipped a finger in the barrel of stagnant water as he passed, coming forward through the sparse grass and clutter that was the Riley's front yard.
"Is she okay?” he asked, not really knowing what else to say.
The little girl, having heard his voice turned to see who it was. Her face was already blotchy and snot was running down her nose.
The girl holding the toddler glared at Lee. For a moment she looked like she was going to be angry, but her expression changed on her face along with her mind.
"There, there, Evie,” she comforted with soft baby talk. “You fall down."
Lee felt really awkward now.
Almost as quickly as it started, the crying ebbed, and Evie stuck out her bottom lip, composing her face into a tremendously sulky pout.
"She'll be fine,” said the girl, still hugging and patting the child. “I think she was just startled."
Lee felt relief he wasn't going to be blamed. Experience with Patty had taught him you never know about these things.
Lee stuck out his hand. “I'm Lee. Lee Coombs. I live over there across the street."
The girl looked at his outstretched hand. She couldn't do anything about it, as both of hers were full. She bent over letting Evie's bare feet touch down on the ground. Immediately, Evie latched on to the girl's leg, burying her snotty face into her thigh.
The girl smiled at Lee and cocked her head, as to say, “What you gonna’ do,” and took his hand in a soft little shake. “I'm Phoebe. Phoebe Carlisle."
They both stood facing each other awkwardly. Lee almost told her his name again he was at such a loss for words. She was just too cute.
The door to the house opened and a disheveled young woman, who must be Mrs. Riley, appeared. This was the first time Lee had seen her. Maggie was right when she had said Mrs. Riley was young. She didn't look much older than Phoebe. She certainly didn't look old enough to have three children. Yet upon closer inspection, Lee noticed the dark circles around her eyes and the way she drooped as she leaned against the doorframe. She was wearing a dirty, tufted housecoat, with a ragged hem which sagged below her knees. On her shoulder she sported a well-used and very soggy spit up towel.
"Is everything okay, Phoebe?” she drawled.
"Yes, Aunt Darlene,” said Phoebe suddenly remembering to take her hand back. “Little Evie fell down again. That's all."
Evie pulled her face out of Phoebe's thigh when she heard her mother. She unlatched herself from Phoebe's leg and tottered for the door as fast as her pudgy legs could carry her.
The woman in the doorway seeing her coming, quickly pulled herself back in, slamming the door shut. Little Evie had plenty of time but didn't even try to stop. She ran into the screen door smack with her face, falling back on the walk and treating everyone to a repeat performance, which actually surpassed in strength and shrillness, the one from moments before.
Phoebe didn't rush to walk over to the screaming child. She wiped the snotty goo Evie had left from her thigh with one hand then bent down to clean her fingers on the grass. This done, she reluctantly approached the squalling child and hefted her up, bending low as Evie held up her arms. Carrying her burden, she trudged back over to Lee.
"I just got here this morning,” she said, then let out with a sigh. “Poor Darlene's really got her hands full."
"I live over across the street,” repeated Lee, pointing back over his shoulder with his thumb.
Phoebe looked at him oddly, possibly deciding whether or not to remind him he'd already said that. She settled on patting Evie vigorously with the hand supporting the child's back, and daubing the tears from her cheeks with the back of her other hand.
"I'm going to be staying with Uncle Boyd and Aunt Darlene for the summer to help ‘em out with the babies,” she said, as the wailing thankfully began to subside.
"Uncle and Aunt?” thought Lee curiously.
"I live in Gatlinburg,” she continued. She added proudly, “I'll be in high school next year."
"High School,” thought Lee. “How old are you?” he asked.
"I'm fourteen,” she answered quickly, “Really almost fift
een."
"Me too,” lied Lee.
Phoebe turned her attention back to Evie. “You're getting so heavy.” She tried to put her down, but Evie clung to Phoebe wrapping her legs around the girl's waist.
"Well I better go,” said Lee, feeling awkward again. He couldn't think of a thing in the world to say.
"Well, bye,” said Phoebe. “Maybe I'll see ya around?” She attempted to wave, but had to pull her hand back quickly, when Evie leaned over backwards ready to spill back head over heels.
Lee stuffed his hands in his pockets and ambled across the street to his house. The car was in the driveway, and he rubbed his finger along the chrome trim as he passed by its side.
Maggie and his dad were up from their Sunday afternoon nap and already in their places in front of the new T.V..
"I made sandwiches for dinner,” called out Maggie.
"I'm not hungry,” said Lee, falling sideways into a chair.
His dad looked away from the set, “You're not hungry?"
"I stopped down the street at the Fuentes’ while y'all were taking your nap,” he said, kicking off his shoes. “Did y'all know they're from Mexico?"
"I know they're not from around here,” said his dad. “They're the only ones for a thousand miles who'd dare to have a red and purple house."
"Well, what'd you eat?” asked Maggie, not really paying him any attention as she was caught up watching T.V..
"Goat!” Lee said, more loudly than was necessary.
"Ewww,” went Patty, looking back over her shoulder. She even sat up from her usual place sprawled out in front of the T.V..
For the first time since he had come in, Maggie looked at him seriously, her nose wrinkling back as though she smelled something bad. “Lee, you're kidding?"
"No, Mom. Really, I ate goat!” The reaction he'd received was just what he'd hoped for. “It was good too,” he added enthusiastically.
His dad shook his head. “I thought those things ate garbage."
They were watching the Wonderful World of Disney. The program had just begun, and Tinker Bell was magically flitting around Walt as he described tonight's episode.
"I hope he doesn't start farting,” Patty said, turning back around.
"Patty, you watch your mouth,” Maggie fired back.
Ted grinned. “It'd probably smell like tin cans."
Even Lee laughed. But Maggie's righteous scowl directed at Ted kept the laughter to a minimum.
This show was one of Lee's favorites. Disney was great. He especially liked the nature programs, and of course, Davy Crockett was one of his all time favorites. “King of the Wild Frontier,” as the theme song went. He even had a real coonskin cap, still packed in a box, somewhere in his new room. Lee earnestly tried to watch, but kept drifting away, sleepily falling back into the mental images he had conjured up of those two long dead Indians: Two Twigs and Osia. Periodically, he'd be treated to an uncontrollable burp, which would rumble up from his bloated stomach; causing Maggie to cast disapproving glares in his direction. Lee knew it was the signature of a good meal, one that tastes as good when it repeats as it did going down. Somewhere, though, he fell asleep. The next thing he remembered, the T.V. was off, and his dad was rousting him up to go to bed.
Having fallen asleep in the chair, he lay awake in bed. There was the constant drone of the attic fan and an occasional vibrating shimmer from the blinds as a stronger breeze blew in from the outside.
Summer was coming on, and it was getting hotter day by day. At night, Lee only used a sheet and no longer wore pajamas, being much more comfortable in just a pair of briefs.
He would try closing his eyes, only to find them open again in a moment. His mind drifted to the girl, the girl across the street. She was what his dad would call a “Cutie."
If he thought about it, and he was right then, he could still feel how soft her hand was when they had shook hands. He rubbed his fingers on his palm, and his imagination wandered in the softness of her touch. He recalled her quick eyes; they were sparkly gray-blue, and the way her tight, little, blond ponytail sat up high, wiggling when she moved her head. Her voice too, it was pure girl. And her accent, pure deep woods Tennessee. Her dad probably chewed tobacco and wore overalls to church on Sundays. He stopped that thought. That would be something Maggie would think.
After some time of thinking about it, he decided it was the little up turn at the tip of nose that made her face so cute, along with the sprinkling of freckles spreading over her cheeks and down her neck. He suddenly found himself wondering how far down they went. Swallowing, though his mouth had suddenly gone dry, his thoughts slipped to her smooth legs and the bright red shorts she had on. His breath quickened when he again recalled the smooth curves high up under her shirt. The image he created gave him a stir, and despite the steady draft of the fan, he began to sweat where his back lay against the mattress. He knew full well that if he didn't quit thinking about her he would never get to sleep. It ended up being well into the night, when his natural excitement subsided, and he finally closed his eyes.
CHAPTER NINE: THE LITTLE HOUSE
Falling asleep late meant the morning came early, bleeding in through the blinds, highlighting every speck of dust as it wafted through the air.
"Lee. Lee Coombs!” Maggie paused, then pounded on his open door. “You need to get up out of bed if you're going to go to work at Mrs. Ballard's today!"
"Okay! Okay!” he called back a little louder than he should have. “I'm up! Give me a break!"
Maggie was standing well in the doorway staring down at him. She had her arms crossed, and the Kool in her right hand was letting off a stream of blue smoke climbing to the ceiling. She pointed the cigarette at him. “You better watch that crabby mouth of yours."
Lee looked up at her hazily. Standing behind him, she looked like she was upside down with the smoke from her cigarette falling toward the floor. He felt as though he hadn't slept at all. His eyes had sticky grit stuck in the corners. Rubbing with both fists he began to come awake. Maggie didn't seem to be going away. Looking down, he realized he was wearing just his underwear and the sheet was wadded up around his feet. Bolting upright he snatched the sheet up and around his waist protectively.
Maggie was leaning against the door. The loafers who hung out all day down at the barbershop seemed more inclined to move than she did.
Damn, he hated starting the day with her smirking at him like that.
"Well...?” he asked.
"Well what,” she came back.
"Can I get up and get dressed?"
"Does it look like I'm stopping you?"
Gripping the sheet he swung his feet out and slapped them down on the floor. “What's for breakfast?” he asked hurriedly.
"Whatever you feel like making. I'm too busy getting this place cleaned up to be your cooking slave."
Lee stared back at her. She was still standing in the doorway, having made no sign of leaving just yet.
He stretched out his arms but kept the sheet clenched between his legs. “I'd like to get dressed."
"What were you dreaming about?"
This hit him out of left field. He'd hoped she hadn't noticed.
"I don't know,” he replied. “I don't remember."
She kept her eyes on him. “I bet it was about a girl, huh?"
Lee could feel his face growing red.
Maggie took a drag and leaned back against the door causing it to bump back against the wall. She looked even younger than usual with that red cleaning bandanna over her hair. “Getting to be quite the young man, aren't we?” That smirky smile was strange. “Not so much my little guy anymore, huh?"
The way she said, “huh” was like a slap in the face. “I'm just fourteen,” he replied sourly.
She took a drag and blew it out her nose. “You don't look fourteen."
"Mamma!” Patty's voice came from down the hall.
Maggie peeled herself off the door and took one step out into the hall, but stopped an
d looked back. Lee, who had started to get up, plopped back down.
"What is it now?” he asked already more than a little irritated.
"Nothing,” she replied. “Nothing.” She took her eyes off him to flick her long ash into her palm and then turned away. Maggie's voice receded, as she walked down the hall toward the den. “You better get going if you're going to work today."
Rubbing his eyes, he tried to remember the dream he had been having, but it really had already slipped away. He had a feeling it had been awfully important a few seconds ago, and now it was gone. He looked around making sure that Maggie was truly down the hall, before getting up. Searching around for a pair of blue jeans he was still acutely aware of his morning stiffness. In health class, the coach had said it was natural for boys his age. But that didn't take away the sting of waking up to find Maggie standing in his doorway and grinning at him like that. He hated sleeping with the doors open, there wasn't any privacy at all. But when they used the attic fan, he didn't have any choice. The doors and windows had to be left open. It was either that or close the door and swelter.
After throwing some water in his face and a quick breakfast, he grabbed his lunch sack he'd prepared the night before, and ran out. The sun was already bright, and the shadows deep and long as he ran through the ruined trees.
With the first wheelbarrow load of soil he lugged up from down by the river, he knew today was going to be a scorcher. By late morning it seemed the sky was going to melt.
Mrs. Ballard had stoically taken up her post staring at the back door, earlier than usual. Lee knew that if it was ninety degrees out in the direct sun, it must feel like twice that inside that stifling little house. Seeing her sitting in there like that, he was reminded of the people in old photographs, where the men were wearing heavy suits with vests and ties, and the ladies were even worse off in their starched corsets and heavy layers of petticoats. He never could understand how people could have lived in the South and dressed that way. No wonder they always looked so crabby. He shook his head in wonder as he gave her a sideways glance the next time he passed by the front windows.
Evil Heights, Book I: The Midnight Flyer Page 21