by Kay Shostak
We ate outside at the Taco Bell and then the boys ran around the garden center while I studied and thought and finally filled my buggy. Now they are in the back seat of the van scrunched over my phone playing some game. The sky is almost purple. There are no clouds or jet contrails to relieve the solid stretch of deep color. Summer, the actual date on the calendar, is around the corner, and the sun is staying up later. The moon is also up, not quite full and accenting the purple sky in a magical kind of way. Taking a deep sniff, the smell of dirt and plants hangs heavier than the smell of boy sweat. Of course, I did threaten the boys with death if they even thought about taking off their tennis shoes, so that helps.
It’s going to be a good summer with my garden. I can just feel it.
Chapter 26
“They didn’t all have labels, but I figured it’d be kind of exciting to see what grows on them.”
Anna doesn’t seem too impressed with my garden. “But aren’t certain things supposed to go together?” She’s got on pajama pants, a big T-shirt, and flip flops with which she’s made a path through the cool, wet grass. She has a Pop-Tart in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. She’s so tiny, I imagine her belly is actually showing, and the idea that it’s my grandchild adds to my feeling of Mother Earthiness.
She points with her half-eaten Pop-Tart. “You’ve gotten a lot done this morning. What time did you get out here?”
“Oh, I had a cup of coffee watching the sun come up over the mountains and have been hard at it since then. So three hours or so. Honestly, I thought all the stuff I bought would cover a lot more area.”
Standing back now, taking a couple breaths, I can see why Anna isn’t impressed. The ground isn’t real level as I just tossed aside the bigger clods and rocks and planted in the holes left behind. I do have a row of zinnias in front and they look good. Well, for flowers from the discount rack. But my grandmother had bunches of zinnias, so I don’t think they’re that hard. The two tomato plants look a little worse for wear. They are pretty much just lying on the ground. Maybe if I put a clod underneath them to hold them up some. The rest of the plants are kind of in rows. Yeah, it doesn’t look that good at all.
“Whoa, Mom. You planted a garden!” Bryan shouts from the deck and then leaps the couple steps. He jogs over to us and is beaming. “Cool. I’ll help take care of it like we do at Grant’s house.”
Oh, this boy of mine. He still likes me.
“Thanks, buddy. I’ll sure need some help. Is your sister up?”
He shrugs and starts walking on the clods of dirt in the unplanted area. “What are you going to plant over here?”
“Probably nothing this year.”
Anna finishes her glass of milk. “We found some cute stuff for the nursery last night. We went to Costco and saw a good deal on a crib. Granmissus wants us to find out the sex of the baby so she can decorate, but I’m not sure we want to know.”
“It’s fun either way.” Placing clods of dirt for the tomato plants to lie on makes me talk toward the ground, so I speak up. “We didn’t know that Will was a boy, but mainly just because they were still making a lot of mistakes with seeing the sex of babies then, but with Savannah and Bryan we found out. Right both times. Plans for you two to move back with Missus and FM still set?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
I stand up and look at her. “You guess?”
She stretches one arm, then changes hands holding the empty milk glass and stretches the other arm. “We could move in with Peter. His house is smaller, but he says we can have the whole second floor.”
“But, that’s where…”
“The ghost is?”
And Bryan is back in the conversation. “Where’s a ghost?” He says from on top of a big clod he’s been trying to break up by jumping on it.
At the same time I say, “Nowhere,” Anna says, “Peter’s.”
He continues jumping, and I stare at her. “Thought this was supposed to be kept quiet.”
She twists one side of her mouth up as she glances at me and then turns toward the house. I follow her onto the deck and into the kitchen.
She runs water into her glass and sets it in the sink, while I get a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.
After a long drink, I lean against the counter and watch as she begins unloading the dishwasher. She’s working to not say something. And she succeeds through unloading the entire top shelf. Then as she lifts out the utensil basket she pauses and looks at me. “Peter and a ghost? Isn’t that a little convenient?”
Oh. I stand up and tighten the cap on the bottle of water. My face is no longer hot from the morning gardening session; it’s heat from the inside. She’s thinking what Susan was thinking. “I need a shower,” I say and escape toward the stairs.
Going through the living room I pick up my cell phone from the end table beside the couch and see I have a couple unread texts. One from Jackson saying he’ll be home Thursday afternoon, one from Savannah saying she has work today at noon and for me to wake her up at eleven, and one from Laney. Laney’s begins with a string of exclamation points, and when I open it, I see all caps. Not a good sign. WHY WERE YOU SNEAKING IN AT PETER’S YESTERDAY?
Want to bet she’s not going to buy the ghost story either?
Not that it’s exactly a story. I think he really has a ghost there. But it is a little weird that he told me not to tell anyone, and here’s Anna talking about it. That slows me down and causes me to not continue up the stairs but to turnaround and go back into the kitchen.
“Okay, so yes. I went over to see about the ghost,” I say to her back.
She turns around and puts a hand on her hip. “You know Peter likes you, right?”
“As a friend. That’s all.”
“Okay. Whatever. But we are thinking about moving in with him.”
“Your grandmother won’t be happy.”
“That might be good enough reason to do it.”
“Really?” I sit bowls from the dining room table into the sink. Apparently while I was outside, folks had cereal for breakfast. “You mad at your grandmother now?”
“Not exactly mad, but she really doesn’t like Patty. Or at least doesn’t like us having our wedding together.” Anna sits down at the kitchen table while I finish loading the dishwasher.
“Missus is used to getting her own way.” Wiping my hands on the dish towel hanging on front of the oven, I shrug. “Hate to tell you, but she’s not going to change. People like to think you get softer and nicer as you get older. From what I see, your personality just intensifies. If you’re nice, you get nicer. If you’re a pain, you become a bigger pain.”
Anna stands up and sighs. “I thought everything I could ever want was right here.”
She turns so she doesn’t see me close my eyes. This is what I was afraid of. Missus, Chancey, a home, and a family all wrapped up in a neat little bundle. A bundle that now has my son tied up in the center. I open my eyes, and she’s gone. Hearing her trudge up the stairs, I can’t help but feel such sadness. This is a hard way for a girl to grow up.
The fresh pot of coffee I made after Anna went upstairs is now an old pot of coffee smelling up the house. Waiting for it to brew, I sat down on the couch and fell asleep. So much for getting an early start on the day.
“Savannah?” I say to noise in the kitchen as I stumble in to dump out the burnt coffee.
“So, now you’re awake? I told you I needed to get up at eleven.” She’s leaning against the counter eating a cup of yogurt. “I guess I have to go to work with my hair wet, now.”
“Oh Lord, it’s 11:30? You look fine. And what’s wrong with your alarm clock?”
“I’m helping Jordan today, that’s why I’m going in late. I won’t get off until four and then I’m going straight to the baseball game. You do know we’re playing for a spot in the championship, right?”
“I guess I heard that. Where’s the game?” I don’t look at her because I can sense rolling eyes on the horizon.
“Here. Everyone’s going. I’ve got to go to work. So, anyway, don’t look for me until late. If we win, I’m sure Ruby’s will be open. Besides, now that I’m working and school is out we should probably get rid of my curfew.”
She says all this as she collects her purse and keys and heads out the front door. Half following her, I see a note laying on the couch beside where I was sleeping. It’s from Bryan.
“Going swimming with guys.”
I completely slept through my son writing me a note and leaving it beside me. Oh, yeah. This up-with-the-sun-gardening thing is so me.
Chapter 27
“Over here!” Laney shouts at me when I get out of my car and head toward the baseball stands. Turning, I see a group of ladies in folding canvas chairs at the edge of the fence.
Laney and Beau are the only ones I really know, but I wander up to them.
Beau grins and hands me a red Solo cup. “You need a chair? I’ve got an extra one.”
“I figured I’d just sit in the stands. What is this?”
“Just a wine spritzer. The principal frowns on alcohol in the stands, but down here he leaves us alone.” She introduces me to the other two ladies, both whom I’ve met before but whose children are grown, so I don’t run into them much. They both work outside of Chancey.
“Didn’t you get my text this morning? You know, the one in all caps? Isn’t that supposed to imply its importance?” Laney growls at me.
Beau closes her car door after retrieving a chair for me from her back seat. “That must be some kind of hangover for you to be that grouchy. Here you go, Carolina.”
She points me to my chair and then sits back down in hers. A long foul ball comes to our fence, and we all watch the players run to it.
I tilt my head toward Laney. “You’re hungover on a Tuesday?”
“What about it?” she spits and then raises her eyebrows at me. “My text? Peter?”
Not liking her attitude, I adopt it. “What about it?”
“Fine. Ruin your marriage. I don’t care.” Laney stands up. “I’m going to find Susan and sit with her.”
Beau just stares up at her. “Maybe you should just go home and get a good night’s rest. Without some wine to chill you out, you’re not much fun.” The three of them laugh, but Laney stalks off.
I’ll finish my wine spritzer and maybe go find her later. I don’t remember her ever being hungover. Especially not on a weekday. And this late in the day? Something’s not right, but I’m sure Susan can handle it.
As I wait for Beau to put her chair in her backseat, I hold mine and watch the folks leaving. We lost the game. Badly. No championship for Chancey this year. Everyone is moving slowly, but apparently Ruby’s is open anyway as several people mention seeing that they hope to see me there as they pass. Funny that a year ago I didn’t know this little town even existed. Much less envision a command performance at Ruby’s.
“You going to Ruby’s?” Beau asks as she reaches for my chair.
“Yeah, I meant to catch up with Laney during the game, but once we got to talking about books… well.”
Beau closes the car door and opens her front door. “You really should come to our book club. I don’t know why I didn’t think of inviting you before. Everyone’s mostly like Ruth and Mary Ann, a little older than us. But neat ladies. I’ll forward the email invite to you.”
“Okay. So, just a minute. Laney told you she was hungover?”
“Yep, I handed her a glass just like I did you, and she practically threw it back at me. Listen, I’ve got to go. My kids are at my aunt’s house having a pizza party. I know she’s ready to get rid of them. It was fun to hang out. Drive safe.”
I step closer to the chain link fence and wave as Beau backs out, her red hair blowing around her face from the open window.
Something wasn’t right about Laney and being hungover, and now I know what was bothering me. Savannah was over there until late. At least that’s what she said. She and Jenna and Angie were watching movies with some other friends. Laney was drinking enough to have a hangover with a house full of teenagers? She and I definitely need to talk about this. Probably not a good idea to talk about it at Ruby’s with the rest of the town there, but we are going to talk, and sometime soon.
Wouldn’t you know it? The only spot open to park near the square is right in front of Peter’s house. Without the slightest turn of my head, I get out of my car and never look to my right or behind me. What? Peter’s house is right there? Why, I never even noticed.
The sidewalk is old and worn, initials carved in decades ago are barely readable. Air softened by humidity feels comfortable. There is no chill at all. My zippered jersey jacket is open and falling off my shoulders. Beside Peter’s house—I’m in the safety zone so I can look to my right—is another old house. A young family lives there, and I step around a tricycle on the sidewalk. The house looks worn and comfortable. Not run-down like Peter’s, but not perfect like Missus’ and FM’s. Along the sidewalk, irises reach up to me with pointed, pale-green leaves and light purple flowers and perfume from my childhood.
Purple irises abound in the South, but especially in my home state of Tennessee, where they are the state flower. The smell is sweet and more like perfume than something in nature. My Aunt Darla had a whole yard full of them. Apparently they are easy to share, because I remember everyone saying they got theirs from her. Hmm, maybe some irises in my garden would take up some of the empty space.
I cross the street and walk past the closed repair shop and an empty building with dark windows. At the door to Ruby’s, I look inside before opening it. It’s pretty full, and I can’t help but laugh thinking how this place scared me last fall. How threatening all this seemed. How I didn’t feel I belonged. One of the coaches of Bryan’s team pushes out the door and says “Hello” as he’s leaving. He holds it open for me, and I step inside. Susan is at a table with the preacher, who is also her boss, the preacher’s wife, and the music minister from church. She waves at me and points to the other corner where I see Bryan and Grant with a bunch of other friends. She gave them all rides from the ballfield. Waving at Bryan, I catch his eye and wave a five dollar bill at him. He darts through the crowd and grabs for it.
“Hold on. You can talk to me for a minute, I haven’t seen you all day. You had fun swimming?”
“Yeah, c’mon, Mom.” He reaches for the money again. “Didn’t the game stink? We’re all staying in Matt’s barn tonight, okay? They have a new calf.”
Over his head, I look for Matt’s parents, and his dad gives me a thumbs up. I nod and smile back at him then look down at my son. “Do you need me to bring you some clothes? Or a toothbrush?”
“Naw. I’m good. Mom, the money?”
I hand it to him, and he rushes back to the crowded booth. His group travels like a pack of puppies, and I know they’ll show up on my front porch probably tomorrow wanting to camp out by the lake. Will and his friends did the same thing, but I remember a lot more video games and hanging out at the mall than camping and barns. Savannah isn’t here. As a matter of fact, there are no teenagers here.
As Libby passes by with a full pot of coffee, I lean towards her. “Have you seen Savannah?”
She sighs and puts a hand on her apron-covered hip. “That girl up the street? The coffee lady? She opened up, too, tonight. All the teenagers are up there. Ruby is fit to be tied. Special openings were supposed to be just for here. At least that’s what Ruby thought with that painted on schedule on the other place’s door. You got a cup?”
“No, not yet. I’m headed back to the counter. But thanks.” At the counter, I pull out another five and then slide onto one of the spinning stools there. The seat is old leather and the chrome is shiny for something so many decades old. Libby comes around the counter, grabs an empty cup, pours it full, and sits it in front of me.
Ruby walks up behind her. “Get you a piece of pie, Carolina? Or you going up to that other place for some of that fancy stuff she’s ser
ving now?”
“Oh, no. I’m definitely here for some of your pie. Whatever you suggest.”
“Sure you don’t want a croissant? Or that spinach and cheese thing? I don’t know who’s making those la-dee-da things for her, but it better not be anyone who ever wants another piece of my pie.” She narrows her gaze at me.
“Me? You think I could cook anything Jordan could sell?”
“Lord, no. Everyone knows you cook only cause you have to keep your kids from starving. But you do seem to know what folks are doing, and your daughter is over at that place all the time. Plus, ain’t you working there on Sunday mornings? What do you know?”
“Nothing, Ruby. I promise. I didn’t even know they were serving food.”
She turns to the rack of trays behind her and when she turns back to me she has a small plate in her hand and is shaking her head. “Your daughter doesn’t talk to you?”
And hoping to be given the piece of pie, I don’t roll my eyes. “Nope, she feels I’m on a need-to-know basis and she’s determined I don’t need to know much.” Yes, I know other mothers and daughters share every special little thing that happens in every single day. Yes, I wish Savannah talked to me more. Yes, I feel ashamed and accept all responsibility. Now, can I please have a piece of pie?
Ruby sets the plate down and hands me a fork. “Count your blessings. My Jewel won’t shut up. Even now that she don’t live with me, she has to call and tell me every time someone looks cross-eyed at her. Or when her husband don’t flush.” Over her shoulder, she yells back at me, “Don’t ever complain about your kids not talking to you. It’s highly overrated.”