"Give them my cell number in case of emergencies, or go down to the dollar store and buy one of those prepaid GoPhone things."
I tried to think of the last time I'd been away from Tishom ingo on an overnight trip. We'd gone to see Disney On Ice when Crystal turned seven. Then there was a trip to Washington, D.C., the year she was caught up in American historywhen she was eleven. After that she didn't want to go anywhere in the summer. She'd wanted stay home and swim in her own pool with her friends.
He went on. "I thought maybe we could stop at the Galleria Dallas before we pick up the lumber, if you'd like to shop a little. Jefferson, the town I mentioned, is only a little over two hours east of Dallas, so we could drive there, stay a couple of nights at a nice B and B I know, and drive home on the Fourth of July. Probably get here in time to go see the fireworks at the football field. Yes or no?"
"Yes," I said quickly.
"Then let's get these apricots done so we can pack."
By the time we washed up the knives and bowls, I was getting plumb giddy at the prospect of going out of town on a three-day jaunt. When we finished, we went to the dollar store and bought a disposable, prepaid cell phone that included three hundred minutes with the purchase. Billy Lee brought over his laptop and took care of programming it. I didn't even know he was computer-literate, but then, there were lots of things I didn't know about him.
He went on back to his house once he had the phone working; he'd told me to be ready bright and early the next morning. The floor man would be there by eight, and we'd need to be ready to leave right after that. I didn't tell him that I'd probably wake up every hour all night long to check the clock.
I was in the tub, bubbles up to my chin, thinking that I might have time to run to a salon at the Galleria and have my hair trimmed, when suddenly I remembered I'd left my old house without a suitcase. All I had was a multitude of plastic grocery bags. But I'd use them before I gave up a shopping trip to Dallas.
Surely somewhere up in the attic I could find a suitcase. It might not be a seven-hundred-dollar Samsonite Black Label like the one I'd left behind, but it would hold enough clothes to last two days. I jumped up from the bathtub. I dried quickly so I wouldn't leave footprints on the sanded floor and raced to my bedroom, where I pulled on underpants and a nightgown.
I should not have opened that attic door after dark. There I stood, barefoot, waving a hand back and forth, searching for the light cord, when a mouse ran across my toes. My screams sent it scurrying down the steps in a blur. I jumped straight up and tried to Velcro my hands to the ceiling. Gravity sucked me back down to the floor with a thud. Adrenaline sent me into a second jump, which is when I found the light cord. The light came on, but the old cord broke, and -I fell on my butt.
I let out a string of words that could have blistered the paint off the woodwork, then checked to make sure I hadn't sprained an ankle or broken anything. If a rotten mouse kept me from my trip, it would be a sorry varmint when I caught him. Everything was fine except for my dignity, so I started up the steps, only to walk into a spiderweb that stuck to my face like superglue. No amount of grabbing at it dislodged that hateful web. In desperation I grabbed the first thing that came to hand, which was an old pillowcase, and wiped the gunk from my face. The grocerystore plastic bags were looking better by the minute. Who needed a suitcase, anyway?
But I was there, so I figured I might as well try to find one. Everything was covered in white canvas, and I could almost hear the theme music from a scary movie playing in my head as I carefully peeked under each tarp. There were lamps, rolltop steamer trunks that would be perfect to house some of my quilts, and gorgeous small tables for the living room, but not a single suitcase.
I was about to give up the search when someone pounded on the front door. It was nearly ten o'clock at night, and no one even came to see me in the daytime, so who on earth would be beating down my door at that hour? I reached for the cord to turn out the light and realized it had broken. I unscrewed the hot bulb by holding the pillowcase in my hand and hurried down the attic steps on tiptoe. I ran through the bedroom, grabbed up a housecoat, and yelled that I was on my way from the top of the stairs.
Billy Lee was on the other side of the door with a big grin on his face. He held up a small suitcase, one of the new ones on wheels with a handle that popped up and down. "I brought over an extra in case you need it."
I unlatched the screen door and opened it. "Come on in."
He took two steps back. "I don't think so. Not at this time of night and with you already in your nightgown. Look across the street. Viola is peeking out her curtain. Probably heard me knocking on the door."
"I really don't care. We aren't teenagers, and you can come inside if you want. Besides, you're over here all the time. Day and night," I said.
"No, really, all kidding aside, I've got to get things ready for the trip."
He left, and I toted the case upstairs. The grapevine would be on fire the next morning. Billy Lee had delivered a suitcase to Trudy. Gossips would be speculating about whether I was packing my things to move back in with Drew. But after that stunt with the car, would he even take me back? And I'd be gone two whole days, so if someone was nosy enough to call, I wouldn't be there to give out answers. I smiled the whole time I folded shirts and jeans-and my two good Sunday dresses in case I needed them.
I slept poorly. I made mental lists of what I'd buy when we stopped at the Galleria. Billy Lee surprised me the next morning when he parked a big dark blue van under the shade tree in the backyard. I didn't know he owned anything other than a rusty old work truck.
I had the door open before he knocked. "Hey, where did that van come from?"
"Keep it in the garage part of my shop building. I customized it to haul eight-foot pieces of lumber so the wood won't get wet if it rains."
I settled into the bucket seat and wrapped the seat belt across me. "I like it. Sits up high."
"Someday when I'm not buying wood, we'll take my car somewhere"
That was the first inkling I had that he owned a car. Life did have its little surprises. What else did Billy Lee have out there in that big old building with its big old garage doors`? My curiosity was piqued, but I didn't want to pry.
"What kind of music do you like?" he asked.
"Country," I said.
"George Strait?"
"Love him."
He put in a CD, and we listened to George for almost an hour. That alone was a treat. When I rode with Crystal, she listened to rock music. I'd learned to tune it out and go deep inside myself to think about other things while she bobbed her head and tapped on the steering wheel. When Drew and I went anywhere, he listened to classical. I treated it the same way and let it flow in one ear and out the other while Drew tapped on the steering wheel and hummed along. The only time I got to listen to country music was when I went anywhere alone.
"What kind of specialty wood are we going after?" I asked, when he took the CD out and handed me the case to pick out another one.
"Aspen"
"What is that?" I flipped through and found an Alan Jackson that I liked and handed it to him.
"It's very expensive and the new in-thing for furniture and cabinets. Got pretty grain in it." He slid the CD into the slot, and Alan started singing "Livin' on Love."
"How expensive?" I tried to ignore the lyrics, but they sank into my soul when Jackson sang that without somebody, nothing ain't worth a dime.
Did I believe that? Yes, I did. But I had Billy Lee, so life was worth more than a dime!
Billy Lee talked above the music. "What I plan to buy today will easily fit in this van and will run about two thousand dollars."
"What in the world are you going to build?"
"This and that. I'd rather talk about you than wood, Trudy. Tell me why you didn't finish college. You were always so smart. I figured you'd be running NASA or the FBI by this time in your life."
"I got married. Actually, I wanted to teach, but Dr
ew wanted a baby right away, and then he wanted me to stay at home and raise her. We didn't need the money, so I did. When she started school, I got a job as a teacher's aide just to keep from dying of boredom, and that's what I've done ever since. Smart as you are, I'm surprised you don't run NASA or at least a Third World country."
"I like what I do and where I live. What would you do differently if you could undo and redo?" he asked.
I thought about that for maybe a mile. "My first thought is that I wouldn't have gotten married at all, but if I hadn't, then I wouldn't have Crystal. I might have been more aware of my surroundings. I don't know. What would you have done differently?"
"Not one thing"
I must have had a quizzical look on my face.
"Anything different might have kept me from being where I am today, and I'm happy to be riding down the road with you."
I smiled. Alan was singing that you couldn't give up on love because that was the thing we had to keep us going.
"You going to answer that comment?" Billy Lee asked.
"I'm sorry. I was listening to the song. If I could go back with the knowledge I have today, I would have spent more time with Gert and less with those who've tossed me away."
He nodded seriously. "I think I might have been a little bolder."
"So we both might have done a few things differently?"
"Maybe, as long as it didn't change the course of this day," he said.
The CD finished, and again he handed me the case. I chose an old George Jones, and we listened to it as we rode. It was eleven o'clock when we walked into Neiman Marcus. The young salesperson only snarled her nose slightly when she looked up at us. She wore her jet-black hair slicked back into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her neat black power suit could have been one of mine if she'd been Dumpster-diving in Murray County, Oklahoma, when Drew cleaned out my closets.
"May I help you?" she asked cautiously.
"No, ma'am. I can find what I need, but if you'd have a dressing room ready in about thirty minutes, I would appreciate it," I said.
I expected Billy Lee to groan at the idea of thirty minutes, but he just smiled.
The clerk was coolly polite. "I'll be right here in this section. You come on back and find me when you're ready, and I'll be sure you get right into a dressing room."
She didn't give me a brilliant, I'm-going-to-make-a-thousanddollar-commission smile, but, hey, she didn't slap a hanky over her nose, either. I was wearing a pair of jeans with a bleach spot on the knee, a knit shirt with Donald Duck on the front, and stained white tennis shoes. Billy Lee wore his usual bibbed overalls and a chambray shirt. Sell us a pitchfork, and we could rival Grant Wood's artwork.
I gathered clothing, and Billy Lee sat in a plush chair outside the dressing room.
I went into the dressing room with a ton of clothes draped over my arm, and not one thing fit. I was relieved when the salesclerk asked from the other side of the door if she could be of assistance.
"Thank you so much," I said. "Everything I've picked up is too big. I've worn a sixteen women's petite for ten years. Have they changed the sizing?"
"Not that I know about. Throw everything over the door, and I'll find you the same things in a fourteen."
I began tossing an enormous number of three-hundreddollar dresses and slacks suits over the door. I'd intended to buy one pantsuit and maybe two dresses for church, but everywhere I'd looked, something else had caught my eye-and none of it was black.
"I took the liberty of bringing a few more items. You have such lovely skin and beautiful eyes and hair that I thought you'd look good in a clear red"
I stuck a hand out and hauled in a dozen hangers. She was a smart cookie. Flattery would get her a nice commission that day.
"What size shoe do you wear? I could look for something that would go with the outfits for you, so you can see what they'd look like," she said.
I'd just acquired my own personal gofer-clerk. I'd had them before but had never appreciated a single one until that moment. "That would be wonderful. Size seven and a half. B width."
I picked out red slacks and a matching top, a lovely floral summer skirt and mint-green cotton short-sleeved sweater, a nice Capri set in bright yellow, two Sunday dresses, and shoes to match each of the outfits.
She carried the whole pile to the checkout counter and flinched slightly when I pulled out my checkbook.
"That's an out-of-state check, so I'll need to see some ID"
I could read her mind. She was thinking that she'd spent two hours with me, and now I was about to write a check that could bounce all the way to the moon.
I flipped open my wallet to show her my new driver's license-short hair and all-and my bank card. "I realize this is a big sale and I'm from out of state. Please feel free to call my bank if it will make you feel better. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble.
She swallowed hard, trying to decide whether to offend me or take a chance.
I smiled brightly. "Go ahead and make the call. Phone number for the bank is right there in small print."
It was worth the wait to see the look on her face. By the time she hung up the phone, she was almost singing. "Thank you for being such a good sport about this. I'm sorry I had to keep you waiting. My name is Desiree. Be sure to ask for me next time." She carefully hung the clothing in garment bags.
Billy Lee carried the bags when we left the store and waited until we were completely out into the mall before chuckling under his breath.
"What is so funny? Did you not like what I bought or the top dollar I paid for it?"
"You looked lovely in all the outfits. I liked it when you came out and let me see you in them. And I wouldn't care if you'd paid double what you did for the clothing. I don't even care if you need it or just want it. It made you smile, so it was money well spent"
"Wow," I muttered.
"That was fun," he said.
"Fun? You had to sit there and watch me try on clothes for two hours, and you call it fun? I don't know another man in the world with that much patience."
"Didn't take patience. You want to shop some more?"
"No, I'm finished," I said. "How about you? You want to visit another lumberyard or hardware joint?"
"Only thing we need is lots of paint remover and sandpaper. We can get that in Tishomingo and not haul it all over the country. Hungry? We can grab a burger or have lunch anywhere you want"
"How about just a plain old McDonald's burger and then on to our B and B? Do we have reservations?"
"We sure do," he said.
Except for boasting more two-story homes that were in beautiful condition, the little town of Jefferson, Texas, didn't look all that different from Tishomingo. All the same, I felt like a sugared-up six-year-old on Christmas. Freedom surged through my veins as I tried to see everything at once.
Then Billy Lee parked the van in front of an antebellum home, and I saw that there was definitely something in Jefferson that Tishomingo didn't have. Looking at that gorgeous place practically made me hyperventilate. I know it raised my blood pressure twenty points. The sign out front said it was Scarlett O'Hardy's Bed-and-Breakfast, but it looked like Scarlett O'Hara's Tara. I'd read Gone With the Wind when I was fifteen and once a year since. It's my favorite book, and sitting there in front of a replica of Tara was like a dream come true.
"It's gorgeous. Can we tour it?" I whispered.
Billy Lee got out of the van and opened the door for me. "I made reservations for you to have Miss Scarlett's room. I'll be staying in the general's room."
"We're staying here?" I asked breathlessly.
"I thought you might like it, but there are other options."
"Oh, no! I want to stay here. Really, I do." I hopped out of the van and walked beside him up to the porch. The reverence in my heart was akin to what I felt walking into church on Sunday morning. This was Tara rebuilt. Scarlett's spirit probably lived on in the walls, along with Rhett Butler's.
I didn't drool
all over the front of my shirt when we walked up onto the porch, but that was an absolute miracle. If I'd had to speak or stand in front of a firing squad, I would have put the blindfold on and said my last prayer. We were met at the door by a man dressed like an antebellum butler who took our luggage straight up the stairs. As we followed him, I noticed green velvet drapes like Miss Ellen's po'teers at Tara in a sitting room.
The butler swung open the doors to Miss Scarlett's room and stepped aside. Billy Lee leaned on the doorjamb and watched me make a complete fool of myself. I squealed like a little girl and didn't care if Mamie rose from the grave and scolded me for acting like a heathen. I was right in the middle of a copy of Scarlett's bedroom.
"Cammie King slept here many years ago. She played Bonnie Blue in the movie," the man said.
"Like it?" Billy Lee asked.
"Oh, Billy Lee, I love it. It's absolutely wonderful. I feel like a southern belle."
"I'll show you to your room now," the man said to Billy Lee.
Before I could say another word, Billy Lee and the man were gone, and the door was shut. I shut my eyes and turned around slowly. I opened them to see a room filled with antique furnishings, including a plush bed with an elegant headboard, a fainting couch in the bay window, antique light fixtures, and an oak mantel. Wallpaper with Scarlett-red background covered the walls, and the bathroom had a grand tub plenty big enough for two people.
I ran a hand over the gorgeous bedspread and eased down onto the fainting couch, watching the sunset for a few moments with the back of one hand thrown dramatically over my forehead. Every word that went through my mind had a heavy Georgia accent.
It was my birthday. I was officially over the hill, and no one had remembered, but I didn't care. I'd just been given the most wonderful accidental birthday gift in the whole world. Someday I would tell Billy Lee what he'd accomplished but not for a long time. I was going to savor every single minute of the time in Jefferson, Texas, and make memories to revisit time and time again.
Momma used to say that I'd missed being a firecracker by only two days. I'd always wondered, if I'd been born on the Fourth, if I'd have had more spunk and brains. I stared at the woman in the mirror hanging above the dressing table. Dark, curly hair. Nondescript green eyes with a few crow's-feet settling in around them. A square face with full lips. It shocked me to realize I was the image of my grandmother. No wonder Momma sometimes confused me for her mother when she wasn't having a good day.
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