In Front of God and Everybody

by KD McCrite

  TWENTY-THREE

  Big News.

  Big, Bad News.

  Mr. Rance proposed.

  Yep, that’s right. Mr. Rance proposed to my grandma that night in the Veranda Club.

  Of course, none of us knew about it until the next afternoon when we were having our big Sunday dinner after church. Mama had made her famous chicken pie, which when you taste it makes you think you’ve died and gone to heaven. Everyone was at the table in the dining room, including that old man.

  I chowed down on a thick, tender, crusty corner of that chicken pie and was smiling at the wonderfulness of the taste and texture when Mr. Rance quit cramming food into his own personal mouth and stood up.

  “Here now!” he yelled. “We got us an announcement. Stand up, Miz Grace, darlin’.”

  Her face as red as sunset, Grandma stood. Mr. Rance grabbed her left hand and held it out so we could all see the humongous sparkler on her ring finger. How had we missed it until then?

  “Oh!” Isabel shrieked. “Oh, oh, oh! Grace!” Trust ole Isabel to show life in the presence of a diamond. She nearly broke her neck jumping up from the chair and rushing to goggle that ring.

  My own personal self, I thought the thing was way beyond cheesy and gaudy and could hardly believe my very own grandmother would wear such a thing. Of course, I’d never in a million years believed she would doll herself up like a senior citizen teenager, either, but there she sat, with blue and green eyeshadow and blush and red nail polish and everything.

  “I ast Miz Grace to be my bride,” Mr. Rance announced unnecessarily and at the top of his lungs, “and she said yes.”

  My stomach clenched.

  Daddy and Mama looked a little stunned at first, but soon they smiled and nodded and ogled Grandma’s ring. Myra Sue, of course, had leaped up from the table right behind her idol. Ian stayed where he was, but he smiled in a polite kind of way.

  You know, after you’re around him for a while, ole Ian isn’t half bad. Most of the time I think he’s too exhausted to be obnoxious.

  “When’s the lucky day?” Mama said.

  “Well, we haven’t quite agreed—” Grandma began.

  “Two weeks from next Saturday,” said the old man.

  “Now, Jeffrey, I don’t think—”

  “I’ll do the thinking for both of us, darlin’,” he said, and he gave her a big fat smooch you could have heard on the top floor of the TCBY Tower in Little Rock. Everybody else laughed, but I didn’t think it was a bit funny, and looking at Grandma, I wondered if her smile were real.

  I pushed away my plate.

  “April Grace,” Mama said, “Don’t you want to see Grandma’s new ring?”

  “I think I’m sick,” I said. “May I leave the table?”

  “She does look a mite pale, Lily,” Grandma said.

  Mama felt my forehead, peered in my eyes, and frowned. “Sick, huh?”

  I nodded. “Go to your room, then,” she said. “Crawl into bed, and I’ll check on you later.”

  I not only crawled into bed—I pulled up the covers and hid my head beneath the pillow. I didn’t even have the heart to read.

  It must’ve been midafternoon when I heard my bedroom door open. Figuring it was Myra Sue, I didn’t stir and hoped she’d only come in for her hairbrush or something. Whoever it was sat on the edge of the bed, tugged away the covers, and lifted the pillow from my head. I squeezed my eyes shut because I did not want to see anyone from my whole entire family.

  “April, honey.” It was Grandma.

  “I reckon I don’t have anything to say,” I said. But I did. I had tons to say, but no one would listen to me. No one wanted to hear a word of it.

  “Aren’t you happy for me, April?”

  I opened one eye and looked at her. “Are you kidding?”

  For a minute, she just sat there and stroked my head with a real, real gentle touch.

  “I know you don’t like him, honey, but he’s a good man.”

  I grunted.

  “And he’ll be a companion for me.”

  “You got us,” I said. “Me and Mama and Daddy and even that dumb Myra Sue. Aren’t we good enough?”

  “Of course you are! But I—”

  “Don’t you love us anymore?” I heard my voice crack, but I swallowed hard so I wouldn’t bust out bawling like a big, fat baby.

  “Now, April Grace, you know I do. But at my age, I need someone around—”

  “You said yesterday that you wanted to be left alone! You said you wanted to be able to do things on your own. That old man downstairs wouldn’t even let you talk a while ago. He had to answer everything himself!”

  She stopped smoothing my hair and clasped her hands in her lap. She sat there and looked at me. Then she said, “You realize I’m a living, breathing person, April Grace? I see you making that face. And I know you aren’t going to completely understand what I’m about to say, but I’m going to say it anyway. I’ve been a widow for twenty years. That’s a right long time to be the only person in the house late at night, or when the sun’s first peeking into the sky in the morning. Or when your feelings are hurt, or something is so funny you laugh ’til you cry. A real person needs to share her life. Even an old person like me. The good Lord said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone.’ Well, I reckon He meant it’s not good for woman to be alone either, because I’m mighty tired of it.”

  “But Grandma. Why Mr. Rance?”

  “He’s a good man, honey,” she said. “And he’s tired of being alone too.”

  I sat up. “His wife’s only been dead a few months. He ain’t been alone very long. And he’s always in town at the Koffee Kup, or else he’s hanging around here or your house, so he’s hardly ever alone at all.” She just sat there, so I went on. “And you know something else? I caught him snooping in your house again yesterday when you weren’t home. He said he was looking for hankies for your corsage, but I don’t think he was. I think he was looking for something else.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Something valuable.”

  “I don’t have anything valuable.”

  “But I bet he don’t know that,” I said. “I bet he thinks you do, and he was trying to find it, and now he’s going to marry you so’s he can get it.”

  Then Grandma said, “Did you say he said he was getting me a corsage?”

  “Yep. Didn’t he?”

  She didn’t answer that. Instead she asked, real softly, “Don’t you think Jeffrey wants me for me?”

  I refused to answer that because both of us knew what I thought. We just looked at each other. For a time, she did not move. Then a tiny expression flickered in her eyes, and it grew until she looked really, really sad. I watched as something seemed to go out of her, like air leaking from a balloon.

  The two of us had been close my whole entire life. There were a lot of times when I’d rather be with Grandma than anyone else, even Mama or Daddy. Sometimes, when it was just the two of us taking a nature walk, or sharing a glass of sweet tea, or just sitting on her sofa, looking at the old family album while she told me stories about our family, I thought she liked being with me better than anyone too. I thought we were best friends, and now she was going to be best friends with that icky old man. And it wasn’t just that I was jealous. I was. But there was something strange about that man, I had no doubts.

  But right then, when I saw how Grandma looked all deflated and empty, I realized how much she wanted me to approve of that old goof. And there was only one way I could ever give him my stamp of approval.

  I sat up and scrooched close to the edge of the bed. I leaned close and looked right into her eyes.

  “Do you love him, Grandma? Do you love that old man? Does he make you happy?”

  She looked away, then she took a deep breath and blew it out real slow. She got up stiffly, as if her bones ached right down to the marrow.

  “It doesn’t really matter to you, does it, April? Even if I
loved him with my whole heart and soul, it wouldn’t be enough for you, would it?”

  Then she gave me such a look I couldn’t speak because my throat ached too much. But she’d answered my question without saying it out loud: she did not love Jeffrey Rance.

  Grandma walked from the room and closed the door softly behind her. I lay back down and pulled the covers over my head again.

  It amazed me that for the next two weeks, all of us went about our regular business with the threat of an upcoming and totally inappropriate marriage in the near future. It’s hotter’n blazes in late August, you know, but all us females just kept putting up the garden produce and doing the housework, while Daddy and Ian mended fences or went to town for parts or repaired equipment.

  I thought I was going to die with the threat of Grandma’s marriage hanging over our heads like a dark, ugly thunderstorm. At least school would be starting soon, and that was the only bright spot in my days.

  “Well, is the wedding a week from Saturday or not?” Mama asked Grandma over their coffee the following Thursday.

  “Jeffrey says at our age we shouldn’t dawdle. And I see his point.” She glanced at me. I just ate my Cheerios and tried to keep my big mouth shut. She said nothing else about that old man. Instead, she talked about the visiting preacher who’d held the service at church last Sunday.

  “If you don’t want to marry old man Rance, then don’t,” I said, interrupting her. I couldn’t stop myself. It just came out.

  Mama frowned at me. “April Grace, that was rude. And why would you say such a thing?”

  Grandma and I looked at each other.

  “I’m sorry if I was rude. I didn’t mean to be. But Grandma doesn’t want to marry him. Not in her heart where it matters. Right, Grandma?” I asked hopefully.

  I waited with my fingers crossed for her to speak up. But she didn’t, and I was so hurt and disappointed that I left the kitchen with half my cereal still in the bowl and went to the front door.

  Every day for the last five weeks since the St. Jameses moved in, Myra Sue and Isabel had been using the shade of the porch every day to do their dancing stuff before the day got too hot. I very nearly went out on the front porch to exercise with them and work off being mad. Instead, I stood just this side of the screen door and watched for a while. Stretches and bends and crunches and twists weren’t very entertaining, especially when being done by those two skinny-bones. I could’ve watched TV or read, but neither Card Sharks nor Press Your Luck—not even a book—would have helped right then. I guess I was just too disgusted with everything.

  In the new black leotards and a neon pink headband Isabel had given her a couple of days ago, Myra Sue was starting to look as gaunt and spooky as her idol. It was so hot outside, I didn’t see how Myra Sue could stand to wear those bright pink-and-black-striped leg warmers, but she did. When she twisted around and I got a good view of her back, I saw the sharp ridge of her spine and could practically count all her ribs. Starving herself seemed to be working, if she were trying to look withered like Isabel.

  Watching those two only added to my disgust, so I gathered up my newest book, The Hobbit, then went outside and called Daisy. The two of us took off through the woods. I wanted to go off stomping, but we had to go slow because the day was heating up pretty fast, and Daisy is old and her white coat is thick.

  We walked through the woods across the road and came out of the trees near the smallest east pasture, where Daddy and Ian were setting fence posts. Mr. Brett was there, too, several feet away, digging holes for the posts. His big arm muscles showed every time he rammed that post-hole digger into the hard ground.

  “Miss April Grace!” Mr. Brett called out when he looked up and saw me. His teeth showed through his dark whiskers when he smiled. “How you doin’, gal?”

  “Hi, Mr. Brett. I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine, of course, but I liked him and didn’t want to bother him with my problems. Daisy went up to him and accepted all kinds of pats and scratches while she smiled. “How’s Taz?”

  “Sleeping under that big shade tree in my backyard, so he’s happy,” Mr. Brett said.

  I wasn’t in the mood to visit, but Daddy caught sight of Daisy and me and waved us over. I ambled toward him and Ian, and Daisy followed. Behind us, I could hear Mr. Brett breaking the earth with that post-hole digger.

  Ian and Daddy had been talking real serious about something, but they quit when I walked up. Usually I’m curious as all get-out when I walk up on a serious conversation and it stops. That means something real interesting has been said. But that day, I was so discouraged that I just didn’t care to know about things I wasn’t supposed to know about.

  “Well, what are you and Daisy up to?” Daddy asked as we got close enough to smell their man-sweat. P-U. Heaving fence posts into the ground and pounding them solid on a blistering day in August isn’t the frostiest thing you can do, let me tell you. Ole Ian was getting back to his roots the hard way that day.

  “I’ll get us some water,” he said, and walked toward the red-and-white cooler under a scraggly hickory tree nearby.

  Daddy smiled down at me as he drew out an old blue bandana and mopped his face. “Mama give you the day off?”

  I made a face. “I can’t hardly stand it,” I told him.

  “What’s that?” Daddy asked.

  “They’re talking about the wedding! Like it’s some big deal wonderful thing.”

  Daddy lost his smile.

  “Daddy, I can’t stand the thought of Grandma marrying that old man.”

  “What’s that?” His voice was none too friendly, and neither was his expression. I knew he’d heard me. Right then he gave me a chance to smooth over my comment. But I didn’t. I just repeated myself.

  Ian walked up just then with three Solo cups full of cold water. He handed one to me, which I accepted gratefully and drank down so fast, I belched like a lumberjack.

  Mama would have scolded me, but Daddy took a long drink, then said, “Did Mr. Rance say or do something you don’t approve of, April Grace?”

  “He’s loud and bossy and sneaky and snarky, and Grandma is gonna regret getting married.”

  He and Ian shared a long look in which they silently said something to each other. I gave Ian a sharp study, trying to read his mind, but I couldn’t see his thoughts any better than Daddy’s.

  “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way,” Daddy said to me, “but if your grandmother wants to marry him, it’s none of your business.”

  “But Daddy!”

  “I agree with your girl, Mike,” Ian said, surprising me. “I’d sure hate to see your mother get legally tied to that man.”

  Daddy took his eyes off me to look at Ian. The two men regarded each other for a minute. Daddy nodded so you could barely see it. Then Ian squatted down and let Daisy lap out the rest of the water in his Solo cup. He patted her head. Guess she’d controlled that vicious, tail-wagging, tongue-lolling, and hours-long napping enough so he could trust her not to rip his arm off.

  “Well,” Daddy said after a bit. “I will admit he wouldn’t be my first choice for her. But she seems to like him. They get along well. She’s happy; he’s happy. And they’re certainly old enough to know their own minds.”

  “But Daddy—”

  “No ‘but Daddys.’ You have a right to how you feel, daughter, and I won’t deny you that right.” He pinned a look on me. “But here’s the situation as it stands. Your grandma wants to marry Jeffrey Rance, so don’t you be trying to cause trouble. That means no pouting and sulking, no smarty remarks, no running off when you’re needed. You jump in there and help your mama and grandma get things ready for the wedding if they want you to. No arguments.”

  “Well, you used to stand up for Mama when she couldn’t stand up for herself, and now all I’m trying to do is stand up for Grandma.”

  “It’s not the same thing, April Grace. Not in the least.”

  “Oh brother!” I yelled. “As if—”

  “Don’t you r
aise your voice to me,” he said in that quiet tone that made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. He narrowed his eyes, and I knew what that meant. I was on my own in this.

  “Okay, then,” I said through closed lips. “Since no one will listen to me except ole Ian”—I gave him a friendly look and nearly patted his arm the way he’d petted Daisy—“I reckon I can’t do anything. I’m just a dumb kid, ain’t I?”

  I snapped my fingers to get Daisy’s attention and turned to leave. We took a few steps; then I looked over my shoulder at Daddy.

  “Oh yeah. One other thing, even though you might not want to believe me: you can’t tell by looking at Myra Sue’s face or while she’s in her regular clothes, but you and Mama ought to take a close look at her in those leotards of hers. All her bones are sticking out.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Getting Under

  Isabel’s Skin

  Daisy and I took our own sweet time walking back to the house.

  “If Grandma keeps letting Mr. Rance push her around,” I told the dog, “that wedding will be in a few days.”

  I tried to kick a big, loose rock out of my way. Pain shot up from my big toe. Some rocks are made to be kicked, and others aren’t.

  “Boy, oh boy, I wonder if Miss Delaine has got that obituary from Texas yet. If Mrs. Emmaline Rance died under Mysterious Circumstances, I am calling the Beauhide County sheriff so he’ll know where to come to get that old man.” Daisy looked up at me with one ear cocked. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing this time. No dogs will be hurt.”

  She put both ears back and wagged her tail. I figured that was all the support I was going to get from the Reilly family. At least Ian seemed to be on my side, but since he hardly ever said a word these days, I doubted I could count on him for anything beyond finally getting some sense in his head.