by Karen White
“If you figure out how to do that, let me know.”
A limb of crimson maple leaves shuddered with excitement above them as a bird stretched its wings and flew away, the temptation of a blue sky more interesting than their conversation. “That’s a red-winged blackbird,” Sugar said with confidence. “They’ve usually gone down to the coast by now—don’t like the colder weather.” She pressed her back against the bench, thinking of Jimmy and of her deal with God that he’d be the last loss in her life. As if, in the stupidity of the young, she believed she had any bargaining power at all in the grand scheme of things.
But as part of her reasoning there’d been what Jimmy had taught her about the migrating birds, about how they came back year after year, and how that always filled him with hope that despite storms and losses, the opportunity to start again was always there. It was why she’d said yes to Tom. If only to show Jimmy that maybe he’d been right. She stopped and turned to Merilee. “Did your life change after David died?”
Merilee seemed surprised by the question, as if she’d never thought about it before. “Yes. Of course.” She waited a moment, but Sugar didn’t interrupt. “Everything changed. And not just in the obvious ways. We were all so sad; we all grieved in our own ways. We were the family who’d lost a child, and you could see it in the eyes of our neighbors and my teachers. I was the girl who’d lost a brother. But my mother had lost her son, and she stopped noticing that she had another child. That’s what changed, really. Because after that I became the girl desperate for her mother’s attention and approval. That pretty much defined me for a long time.”
Merilee had been wearing red knit gloves with little bows at the wrists—very impractical for keeping hands warm, but nobody had asked Sugar, who’d prefer warm fingers to silly embellishments—and she pulled them off a finger at a time, wadding them angrily in her hand. “According to a shrink I saw when I was in my twenties, I was so desperate for my mother’s approval and affection that I did things I’m not proud of. Things that still haunt me.”
She leaned against the back of the bench, the gloves held tightly in her fists. “There was a girl I remember from summer camp. She had the misfortune of being overweight with bad skin, and her only offense was sitting next to me on the bus and then being assigned to be my bunkmate. I made her life hell. And it got worse when she moved to our school and I recognized her. I don’t even remember her real name—my friends and I all called her Daisy, because of those dairy commercials about Daisy the cow. The name stuck because we were relentless, and pretty soon the entire school called her Daisy.”
“Was she really so awful that you couldn’t see anything good about her?” Sugar asked, trying to understand this part of Merilee and finding it difficult.
“That’s the really awful part. Because Daisy was funny. And really smart. I actually invited her to my house a few times to study for exams—I just made sure that none of my friends knew. In return I’d give her advice on how to dress, and the best hairstyle for her face—stupid stuff like that, but she was so grateful. She always seemed . . . eager to be my friend. Not that I’d treat her any differently when we were back at school, but she seemed to accept it.
“I still feel physically ill when I remember her, and the way I treated her. I’ve tried to analyze my dislike of her, and in some part of my psyche I think it’s because I saw me when I thought of her. I saw the girl my mother saw every time she looked at me. And I wanted to punish myself for being so unlovable.”
“So you became a ‘mean girl’?”
Merilee frowned. “How did you ever hear that term?”
“They were playing that movie with that young actress who’s since lost her mind—Lindsay somebody—at the little movie theater at the place where Willa Faye lives, so we watched it. Showed me how much things have changed since I was a girl. And how little.”
Merilee slowly unfurled her fists and watched as the gloves regained their shape. “Our junior year Daisy and I were in the same English lit class and I intercepted a note she passed to a friend. It was all about how in love she was with the football quarterback, and how she dreamed he’d ask her to our junior prom. I might not have even paid attention to the stupid note except I’d been dating the quarterback since freshman year, and I’d already bought my dress for the prom—a dress I didn’t particularly like but one my mother had picked out for me. It made me . . . unreasonably angry.”
“Was this the boy John from your yearbook?” Sugar asked.
Merilee looked startled. “How do you know about that?”
“Lily told me she had your permission—I’m assuming that she didn’t?”
“No. There are . . . things I’m not ready for her to ask me about.” She closed her eyes. “Like why I allowed my friends to write the word ‘moo’ on Daisy’s senior page. But yes, it was the same John. He’d stood up for her in the lunch room once when a bunch of the jocks were tormenting her, and he became her hero. And, in my stupid teenaged brain, it made me mad and so I was even more despicable in my behavior toward Daisy.”
Sugar felt her lips pressing together. “You were horrid. I’m disappointed in you, Merilee. Somebody should have taken a switch to you—of course, they would have been thrown in jail, but it would have been the right thing to do.”
“I wish someone had. But, according to that same shrink, teasing Daisy fed my popularity. And my popularity in turn increased my mother’s interest in me. When I remember Daisy now in the middle of the night, I can’t go back to sleep because of the shame I still feel. In some ways I’m glad. At least that way she can wreak a little deserved revenge.”
Sugar squeezed the handle of her pocketbook, which was sitting in her lap, wishing Merilee hadn’t told her all this. It was a secret shared, and Sugar felt beholden to Merilee again, as if it meant she’d be expected to share her own.
Sugar sniffed, the first warning of her fall allergies. “That’s the problem with people today. They think professionals know all the answers. They make everyone believe that every bad deed is forgiven if you have a good enough reason.”
“You don’t think that’s true?”
Sugar closed her eyes, remembering a moon-filled night saturated with the sound of running feet. “No. Because then we wouldn’t have anything to keep us up when we awaken in the middle of the night.”
Merilee’s fists tightened over the crumpled gloves, and Sugar could tell she wanted to argue with her, but someone at some point had told her it was rude to argue with the elderly. “I sometimes wonder if I should try to find Daisy, apologize to her. I doubt it would make her feel better about the years she suffered through, but maybe then I’d stop having nightmares.”
Sugar wanted to snort but wasn’t sure how. “Maybe an apology might help Daisy not have so many nightmares.” She sniffed again. “Lily didn’t see the photo of Daisy. But we did see the picture of someone named John with the heart around his face and him asking you to marry him. What happened to him?”
Merilee’s cheeks, which had been pink from the chilly wind, suddenly turned the shade of wet flour. “He died.”
Sugar nodded, afraid to say something that might make a connection to Merilee’s loss. She’d learned that shared losses didn’t divide them, but added to one’s own pile.
“Wade tells me that the two of you have a date and that Heather’s behind it.”
“It’s not a date,” Merilee protested. “It’s for the gala, and Heather needed an even number for her table.”
Sugar blew air from her nose, hoping it sounded like a snort. “Heather has never done anything without a reason, and needing an even number doesn’t sound like a good one. I wouldn’t go, if I were you.”
Merilee turned on the bench to face her, trying very hard to keep her anger in check. “Your experiences with Heather aren’t mine. She’s my friend. She reached out when I was at my loneliest, has introduced me to lots of
new people, and has been nothing but warm and kind to me and to my children. There’s nothing that she could possibly want from me in exchange for being so nice except my friendship, so I wouldn’t worry.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. Heather carved her initials on Wade and it took a long time for him to heal. I’m just afraid somebody’s going to get hurt.”
Traffic whizzed by on nearby Main Street, reminding Sugar that she had things to do—bills to pay. Letters to write. But her memories seemed to weigh her down, press her into the bench. She thought of Tom and the porch swing, and how she’d made the mistake of believing she could ever be done with losses.
“Does Wade really put red bows on your sheep at Christmas?” Merilee’s voice brought her back to the present, and she felt an odd gratitude. It also made Sugar think that Merilee must be procrastinating going home, too.
“Yes. He’s incorrigible.”
“You love him like your own grandson.”
Sugar’s lips thinned as she molded them against her teeth. “I allow myself to care for him because he’s not mine to lose. I can live with that.”
“He said his grandmother once told him that you would do anything for those you loved. I think that means you don’t do a good enough job of hiding your indifference,” she said with sarcasm, as if unsure someone so old would understand it.
Sugar grunted, unable to find a suitable sound. “Or maybe I’m immune to the need to perform heroics. No need to rush into a burning building to save someone.”
Merilee gave her a sideways glance. “Well, that’s a good thing. Someone your age shouldn’t be doing that kind of thing anyway.” Merilee stood slowly. “I need to get going. Are you ready?”
Sugar nodded and Merilee helped her to stand. They were walking back toward the parking lot when Merilee asked the question Sugar had been expecting. “What about when Jimmy died—did your life change?”
Sugar took a long time to respond, not sure how much she wanted to tell. Or how much Merilee was ready to hear. “It was because of Jimmy I married Tom. I know Jimmy wanted me to approach the rest of my life with hope. So I promised myself I would never shed another tear. And I haven’t. I just wish he’d been around to warn me what it would cost.”
• • •
SUGAR
1943
Willa Faye grabbed my left hand, looking at the fingers, which were healed but still didn’t look the same as they had before my “accident.” “Where is it?”
I allowed myself to share a little of her excitement. “It’s Tom’s grandmother’s ring and his mother has it in Alabama. I don’t think it would fit over my knuckle now, anyway. His mama’s too ill to travel, and with Tom being called up, we’re not going to have time to have a proper engagement party. I’ll let you break the news to your mother.”
“She will be so disappointed. Especially since it doesn’t look like either one of her daughters will ever get married. She lives to entertain and this could have been her one chance to throw a real party.”
I slapped her on the arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. This war will be over soon, and all the men in the county will come running back looking for wives.”
“Have you told President Roosevelt about the war being over soon? He should probably know.”
“All I know is what Tom says, and I’m choosing to believe him.”
Willa Faye gave me a sympathetic smile, but I looked away, not wanting anyone’s sympathy. Despite all I thought I’d learned about life and all its disappointments since Rufus’s death, I had decided to hope. To allow myself to believe that I was truly done with tears. Maybe if Jimmy were alive, he might have told me that I should stop promising myself things I had no control over. Like who to love and when to cry. Because only stupid people did that. Or the kind of people who didn’t believe themselves strong enough to bear one more loss.
“Daddy’s already started building the house—wants it to be ready in time for the wedding. He’s got the house framed and the roof on. Don’t know how he managed that so quick, but I guess Daddy’s got lots of friends who owe him favors from back when times were hard and he put food on their tables.”
“But why so close to the main house? You love those woods so much, I thought for sure that’s where you’d want your house with Tom.”
I rubbed the swollen knuckle, feeling a residual ache, imagined I could hear again the snap of bone. “Daddy said the same thing.” I met her eyes. “But I said no. I wanted the house to be close to theirs so I could take care of Mama. She doesn’t sleep very well at night anymore, and with Daddy having to travel so much now, I’d feel better.”
“I understand,” she said, reaching over to squeeze my hand, and I wondered if she really did. If anybody really ever could. “I’m just wondering what’s the rush to get married. If you wait until Tom comes back, we’ll be able to throw you a proper wedding, with parties and presents and a trip into Atlanta to buy you some new and pretty things.”
I found I couldn’t look at her as I shook my head vigorously. “No. We need to get married now. Before he leaves.”
“Are you afraid he won’t come back? But surely . . .” She stopped, and I still couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at the understanding dawning in her eyes. “Oh, Sugar. Does Tom know?”
I nodded. “Yes. I couldn’t marry him without telling him the truth. But I didn’t tell him it was Curtis.”
Her hand squeezed mine. “Why not?”
“Because Tom would hunt him down and kill him, and I don’t want Tom to pay the price for Curtis’s sins. He’d never tell the police the reason why for the same reason I can’t. I’ve got to live here and hold my head up. So I told Tom I didn’t recognize the man, that it must be one of the temporary farmworkers who’d helped with the harvest and that he must have moved on because I hadn’t seen him again.”
“But what if Curtis comes back?” She pulled away, lowering her voice. “What will you do?”
“I’ll kill him myself.” The words were spoken before I knew I’d given them permission to leave my mouth.
Willa Faye released her hold on my hand. “What did Tom say about the baby?”
“He says he’ll love it as if it were his own, even though I’m not sure that I can. But Tom’s so sure that his love will be enough. And that I’ll grow to love the baby in time.”
“And you will, Sugar. You will. You’ll see.”
I chose to believe her, and once I’d made that choice the rest seemed easy.
I watched the house being built and the birds in their migration patterns decorating the sky, seeing them both as symbols of hope. Before he left to join the colored troops to fight in the war, Lamar built me bird feeders to place in the trees around the new house, and I kept them filled with corn and seeds, remembering what Bobby had told me about karma. I figured if I fed the traveling birds I was doing my part of being good to the universe, and that in repayment it would be good to me.
As it turned out, Tom had less time than we thought. He got two days’ leave, which meant that Mrs. Mackenzie had to make do with magnolia leaves from her backyard instead of the flowers she’d planned to get in Atlanta to decorate the church. At least I’d had time to shop for a suit to wear. Mrs. Mackenzie had said every bride should have a gown, but I was hardheaded and practical like my father. And I remembered the hard times and could not bear to waste money on something I’d wear just once. I suppose I could have worn my mama’s dress, but nobody mentioned it. Maybe because they wanted to think I should start my own marriage with better karma. Not that anybody would have called it that—I’m sure there’s some Christian word for it—but we were all thinking the same thing.
Tom and I got married at the church where I’d been baptized and where we’d had Jimmy’s funeral less than two months before. My daddy was there to give me away, and Mama came, too, her hair washed and combed by Mrs. Mackenzie, h
er dress hanging on her because she’d gotten so small. My brothers couldn’t get leave, and that was just as well. Mama had Dr. Mackenzie’s arm to lean on and that was all she needed.
Tom was so handsome standing at the front of the church in his uniform, but I think it was his smile I noticed the most, reminding me of the first time we’d met on Stone Mountain and I knew then there was something special about him.
There was a small reception afterward in the church hall, and I knew it would take a long time for me to come up with the right words and the right way to thank Mrs. Mackenzie for everything. But right then I was in too much of a hurry to get Tom alone. It might not have been more than an hour after the ceremony, but it seemed like a century had passed before Tom helped me into his Jeep, then slid in next to me.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Bates,” he said, kissing me gently on the lips.
It was the first time I realized I wasn’t going to be a Prescott any longer, and I pulled back as if he’d made a mistake. But then I smiled and put my arms around him and pressed my lips against his, and that made the wedding guests on the church steps—mostly Willa Faye and her sister and also, I suspected, Mrs. Mackenzie—start shouting and hollering.
We waved good-bye as Tom put the Jeep in gear and we headed toward our new home, ecstatically uncaring of the ruts and dust of the unpaved road. But the road Tom chose took us by the old Brown homestead. Daddy was working the farmland now, the cotton fields replaced by rows of corn to grow what the government needed him to, to supply the war effort, but the house had fallen into disrepair, the front porch all but gone to wind and rot, and most of the windows broken or missing altogether. I suppose if I’d been paying attention, I would have told Tom to go another way like I always did. It was longer, but then I didn’t have to pass the house and remember who’d once lived there. But Tom would have wondered why.