“No, I won’t tell. I can get a job, Bode. The Judge can help me like he helped you. My mother is never home; she doesn’t care what I do after school. I can give you all the money. I won’t keep any. It will help a little, won’t it?”
Bode’s slumped shoulders straightened. “It will help a lot, Brie, if you’re sure you want to do it. You’re only thirteen, though. What can you do?”
“I can baby-sit; I can rake leaves and mow grass. I can make deliveries. I can do lots of things. I’m not afraid to work, Bode. Is it a deal?”
“It’s a deal,” Bode said, his face flushed with relief. He told her about Miss Nela’s lemonade and the Judge’s comment. They both doubled over laughing.
“I have some Kool-Aid in my bag. Want some?”
“Sure.”
And so a conspiracy was born. Brie thought she was contributing to what she considered to be Bode’s financial debt. Bode’s shoulders lightened with the twenty-five dollars or so that Brie handed over to the Judge at the end of each week. Judge Summers banked Brie’s money and marked it for college use with his wife’s full knowledge. In a ledger he carefully noted the monies that went out to Parker Manor from his own account. He told himself he was investing in the. futures of two fine people and after all, he was a Judge and who would dare to question him? Except maybe Bode Jessup . . . someday.
3
Bode Jessup sat at his desk, his head full of memories, for another hour. How bare his office looked with all the plants gone. He’d told Mavis to take them all, along with the draperies. She was coming back tomorrow for his desk that she promised to store in her garage in case he ever decided to come back and start up his practice. He wanted to tell her he was never coming back, except maybe to visit, but he couldn’t get the words out. So, he’d hugged her one last time and helped her carry the last of the things out to her car. Back inside, he’d closed the blinds and locked the front door. When it was time to leave, he’d put his bike in his car and drive away for his last appearance in court, and then he was a free agent. Free of the past, free of memories, free of . . . everything.
Bode looked at his watch. He had just enough time to drive to his apartment, change into his suit for court, plead his last motion, then come back and get stinking drunk—a drunk that was ten years overdue, maybe fifteen.
Bode closed and locked the door behind him and wheeled his bike over to his car. He was aware of everything, the awful humidity, the bright sun, his ancient Volvo parked in the shade under a massive oak, the waves of heat shimmering upward from the asphalt parking lot, the long clumps of Spanish moss hanging from the oak and actually touching the hood of his car. He wondered why he’d never pulled it off. He wasn’t going to do it now either.
He saw her then from the far end of the parking lot. Suddenly he wanted to run, to hide, to pretend he didn’t see her. How could he, a grown man—not to mention a practicing attorney—be so cowardly?
He could tell her now, get it over with . . . but he knew he wouldn’t. Telling her was something he had to do at Parker Manor. That’s where it had begun, and that’s where it was going to end. He felt dizzy with the thought.
“Bode! Wait!” Her voice was low, drawling and yet musical somehow.
Bode opened the trunk of his car. He needed a few extra seconds to square his shoulders, to shift his thoughts into a neutral zone, an extra second to compose his features. He turned.
“Didn’t you see me, Bode?” Callie said, throwing her arms about him.
“Guess my mind was somewhere else. I have to change for court.” Jesus, she was prettier than the first day of summer, the stars at night, prettier than the perfect azaleas that surrounded Parker Manor.
Her voice was playful, teasing. “I see you haven’t changed a bit. You cut it right down to the last second. If you’d dress in the morning, you wouldn’t have to rush home to change. You could even keep a suit and clean shirt in the office. I do that, but then I guess we do things differently in Columbia. Why haven’t you called me, Bode? You didn’t write either.” Her voice stopped just short of being accusing. “You aren’t going to talk to me now either, are you? Did I do something to make you angry? It’s Pearl, isn’t it? I told her she could stay here, but she wants to come with me. It was her decision, Bode, truly it was.”
“I know that. Mama Pearl belongs with you. What brings you down today? I thought you weren’t coming till this evening.” He closed the trunk of the car as far as it would go, looped a section of rope around the hitch on the back. His treasured bike was secure.
“I came to see you.” She moved closer, the scent of her perfume in his nostrils. Her hands were on his shoulders, her face just inches from his.
She looked ethereal, somehow translucent. Maybe there was something wrong with his eyes, maybe he needed to wear his glasses more or maybe he was having one of those anxiety attacks people talked about so much. He stepped back, but there was nowhere to go; his spine was pressed up against the rear wheel of his bike protruding from the trunk.
“You act like you’re afraid of me, Bode,” she teased. Her hands were still on his shoulders, her face an inch closer than before.
“That will be the day,” he croaked. “You didn’t answer my question, Callie. How come you came down early?”
“I’m going to be a bride, remember? I have things to do, places to go, and I do have my priorities. I came to see you. I called, and Mavis said you’d be here till one-thirty. It’s only twelve o’clock. We have a lot of things to talk about. I have lots to share. You were the one who taught us to share, Bode. Brie, Sela, me. We always shared. Everything. You never really did, though. It took the three of us a long time before we figured that out. Sometimes, Bode, I don’t think I know you at all. I don’t think any of us really knows you, except Mama Pearl. Is it us or is it you?”
“You’re being silly, Callie. I shared as much as you did, you just don’t remember.” He was sweating. Damn, now he was going to have to take a shower before he changed for court.
“I remember everything, Bode, from the first day you arrived at Parker Manor. Every single thing. I wrote it all down in my diary. I have sixty of them, do you believe that? Girls do that, you know, write down things—their secret thoughts, their dreams, their desires. The only thing is, I didn’t know what desires were until Sela told me. I don’t think Brie knew either.”
His sneakered foot scuffed at the asphalt. “Brie’s here. She arrived early this morning. I went out to the house and she was sitting by the wall. She’s had a bad time lately and needs her friends and Mama Pearl.”
Callie tweaked Bode’s cheek. “That’s almost funny, Bode. Brie is as tough as buffalo hide. I don’t think she has any feelings, and I know she doesn’t have a nerve in her body. I guess that’s why she became a cop. I’ll never figure that one out.” Her voice was so airy, so breezy-sounding, that Bode reached up and removed Callie’s hands from his shoulders. She was forced to step back and allow him room to move to the driver’s side of the car.
“What’s the matter—don’t you like Brie, Callie? What you said isn’t very complimentary. I thought you were best friends.” How angry and defensive he sounded. Why was that?
“What an awful thing to say, Bode Jessup. Brie is my best friend just the way Sela is my best friend. Facts are facts: Brie is tough. I didn’t mean it to sound the way you took it. We’re squabbling, Bode. Pearl would smack our rumps if she heard us. Something’s wrong, I can sense it. Talk to me, Bode.”
Damn, he had to get in the car, away from her, and put some distance between them. Now. Her hand was on his arm; he thought he felt a jolt of electricity.
Her voice when she spoke was soft and intimate. “Bode, I really came back early to . . . to see you. I want—oh, so many things. Lately, this past week especially, I started . . . I’m not sure . . . I always wanted you—us—but you shut me out. In my diaries, the early ones, you were the prince and I was the princess. Why didn’t it work out that way, Bode? I want to know.
I need to know. Is it that you don’t find me attractive? Is it that orphan thing with you? Do you think of us as brother and sister? I never did. Brie and Sela never did either. Think about us like that, is what I mean. I want to go back to your apartment with you and I want us to—I want us to do what each of us has thought about for years and years. I want to do it now, before I get married. I need to know if I’m making a mistake.”
Bode closed his eyes to shield them from the bright sun. It didn’t matter—he could still see her behind his closed lids, her pleading expression, her quivering lips, the tremor in her hands. He opened his eyes and for a minute thought he was seeing Brie Canfield, but it was a trick of the sun. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. All three girls had propositioned him. Sela a hundred times at least. Brie once and now Callie. He’d said no to Brie and Sela and everyone had their dignity intact when they walked away. Now, he had to do it again. His arm went out, stiff with resolution. He hoped the anger he was feeling wasn’t showing in his eyes. The other two times he’d been flattered; never angry. “No.”
“Nor?”
“No.”
She reached up to pluck the clump of Spanish moss touching the hood of Bode’s car. She held it for a moment before tossing it to the ground. “I forgot, it’s full of birdlice. Yuck. So, you’re turning me down. I rather thought you would. I’ve always loved you, Bode,” she said, backing away from him. “Each of us loved you in her own way. I thought . . . hoped . . . that someday, when we had our schooling done, our debts paid off, and we held steady jobs, you would . . . but you didn’t. Now I’ve made a fool of myself by asking you to go to bed with me. Do you love any of us? I don’t mean that family love we all feel for one another. Why did you offer me the job? Why did you do that, Bode? How am I supposed to work with you in the same office knowing . . . How? Why? I don’t understand.” She dabbed at her eyes.
She really was prettier than the first day of summer with her yellow dress the exact same color as Pearl’s marigolds by the back porch and her straw hat with the band of daisies. Her eyes were cobalt blue with her tears, and wisps of pale blond hair were sticking to her cheeks. If he needed to carry a memory of her to Santa Fe this would be it: his good-bye to Callie Parker. But then that wasn’t true either. He hadn’t told her yet, which meant he had to go out to Parker Manor and explain that he was going away, that he wasn’t going to attend her wedding, that there was no job with him. He had to tell her all those things, and of course he had to say good-bye to Mama Pearl, Brie, and Sela. He was about to respond when Callie spoke.
“Do you remember, Bode, when I had my first date with Steven Bryers? Pearl was worried sick. We went to the movie, and you followed us on your bike. I swear I didn’t realize he was taking the wrong way home, and when he parked and wanted to . . . get to know me better you jumped out from behind the bushes and whipped him silly. You made me get on the back of your bike and brought me home. You broke Steven’s tooth, and it was the only time I ever heard you swear. Pearl was like one of her wet chickens that night. I’d never seen you so angry. I thought we had an understanding from then on. I assumed you felt . . . more than protective. I know we didn’t speak about it, and I know how hard you had to work to pay off Steven’s dental bill. What I’m trying to say to save face is I thought we . . . that we were . . . I hate you, Bode Jessup! I hate you for doing this to me. Now you’ve spoiled everything.”
He watched her run from him, but made no move to go after her. Like Callie, he remembered everything. Remembered working from early morning until late at night so Pearl wouldn’t have to take in extra work to buy Callie new shoes and dresses. He’d honored his commitment longer than was necessary. He remembered his promise to Clemson Parker always to be kind to Callie. Well, he’d honored that promise, too.
The Volvo turned over with the first tap to the gas pedal. His old car was as faithful as his old bike, as faithful as he was. They endured just the way he’d endured. He backed up the Volvo, saw the clump of Spanish moss. “I guess I was waiting for Callie to pull it off the tree because I couldn’t bear to do it,” he muttered. As he drove away he wondered if there was something symbolic in what she’d done.
It was midnight when Bode staggered from the bathroom to the living room to pick up the phone. He dialed a number in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and waited for the phone on the other end to be picked up. He blinked, trying to focus on the shabby furniture in the apartment, none of which was his. The moment the phone was picked up, Bode said, “Hatch, this is Bode. Yep, everything is right as rain. Speaking of rain, we could use some. Tell me one more time that this is the right thing for me to be doing. Of course I know what time it is. What kind of a drunk do you think I am? I realize I’m drunk, why else would I be calling you? I could see right through her. It was the craziest thing. I know that means something. It didn’t have anything to do with the sun, even though it was bright and strong. It’s something else.”
“Is there a reality check to back this up or are you speaking figuratively? Or are you saying something else entirely? Do you by any chance mean you saw through her as in you saw through her, which is to say she isn’t what she appears, that she’s some kind of phony who has deluded you all your life? Just how drunk are you, Bode? You never get drunk, you’re worse than a teetotaler,” Hatch Littletree muttered.
“I don’t know,” Bode muttered in return, his words barely distinguishable over the long-distance wire. “You always had all the answers, that’s why I called you.”
The voice on the other end of the phone scoffed. “You said you called to ask me if you were doing the right thing. The answer is yes—in my opinion. It’s your opinion that counts, Bode.”
“She didn’t go back to the manor house. I called Mama Pearl. I don’t know where she went. She might be there now. It’s too late to call again.”
“She’s almost thirty years old, buddy. She was probably out there doing girl things. Go to bed, Bode. Call me in the morning. If I don’t hear anything from you, I’ll pick you up at the airport as scheduled.”
“Yeah, but I told her Brie was there. She should have been anxious to see one of her best friends.” When there was no response, Bode reared back, a look of mystification on his face. “He hung up,” he muttered to no one in particular. He flopped back on the bed, the receiver hanging loosely over the side. He heard an operator squawk her disapproval. He pushed the offending instrument onto the floor and rolled over, his fists beating the scrunched-up pillows.
One of the pillows ripped at the seams, feathers spiraling upward. The curtains at the windows billowed inward, creating a breeze that sent the feathers in every direction. Bode thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. He slapped at his knees, laughing until tears streamed down his cheeks. He was still laughing when he fumbled his way out to the kitchen to make himself some coffee.
His memories attacked him again as he waited for the coffee to drip into the pot. Who should he think about? Mama Pearl who loved him with all her heart? He loved her with all his heart, too. Of the four of them he was the only one allowed to call her Mama Pearl. That was because he didn’t have a mother and the others did. Not that the girls’ mothers were any great shakes in the maternal department. Still, blood was blood.
Tomboy Brie whose mother didn’t give a hoot what she did or when she did it. Brie with the bruises and welts she sloughed off and never complained about. She’d even got into a girls’ cat fight over him one day. Well, by God, he wasn’t going to think about that.
He’d given Brie a bracelet when she was fifteen. He didn’t know her wrist turned green until Sela told him. It was Sela who also told him how Brie had put nail polish on it and when it fell apart, had Scotch-taped it to the back of her blue diary—another present from Bode.
Bode’s thoughts homed back to Brie’s fight in the schoolyard. Things changed among the girls after that. Callie and Sela banded together, but they didn’t exclude Brie. Again, it was Sela who told him Callie was jealous of al
l the time Brie spent with him. He’d tried to explain that they had jobs, but both Callie and Sela pooh-poohed that aside as if it was nothing.
Brie with the skinned elbows and knees. Brie with the freckles and patched coveralls and scruffy sneakers. Brie was his friend. Brie was that one true person in the whole of the world who would always be there for him. If he needed her, he knew she’d drop everything and ask questions later. If. And he would do the same thing for her. How ironic that neither of them ever asked the other.
Callie and Sela were a different story. Oh yeah, they’d be there for him, too, but only after they had asked for a million details. He finished his coffee and poured out more. He stared at the cup. He didn’t even remember the coffee dripping, much less pouring himself the first cup.
It was time to put all his memories away and get on with his life. That meant leaving those nearest and dearest behind him—something he should have done years ago. To this day he didn’t know why he hadn’t set up shop somewhere else. Was it Mama Pearl or the girls? Both.
Who was he—really? Maybe it was time for him to find out. Maybe it was time for him to do a lot of things he’d shelved so he could take responsibility for what he considered to be his family. And they were his family: Mama Pearl, Brie, Callie, and Sela.
Each of them had her own life now, and he no longer had to be in the background waiting. If that was what he’d been doing these past years, then he had wasted those years because the four women hadn’t needed him at all. Maybe he needed them. Maybe that was why he hadn’t left. He needed to be needed.
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