by Tamara Bundy
“Right,” he signed back. And while he can’t make his voice show sarcasm, he does a really good job of it with his face.
So the three of us . . . well, four of us . . . started our walk. Then Miss Millie asked, “How’s your grammy doing lately?”
“Hard to say,” I told Miss Millie. “It changes every day. Last week she had three good days in a row. And then it was like a switch got turned off in her head. She just forgets everything. Like yesterday she insisted on making her usual Fourth of July cookies with red, white and blue icing that she makes every year, even though Mama told her it was too early to bake ’em. She made ’em anyhow and she must’ve mixed up the sugar with the salt in the recipe ’cause they looked something awful and tasted even worse.”
Miss Millie shook her head. “That’s a dang shame.”
“Dang shame.” I nodded in agreement.
I heard a car coming from behind us, slowing down. The man driving hollered, “Well, hello, Mrs. Miller. Good to see you feeling better.”
Miss Millie cleared her throat to answer. “Morning, Dr. Watkins. Ya know I’m too ornery to stay down for long.”
The doctor smiled a real nice smile at Miss Millie.
Eddie was now waving—but not to the driver—he was waving to the passenger, a girl with brown hair and pigtails. She was smiling at Eddie and waving back. Then she looked over at me looking at her and we waved to each other, too.
“Well, you two, try to keep my patient here from getting into trouble,” the doctor told us. “Heaven knows I can’t.” And with that he grinned and drove off.
When they left, my brother signed, “Who?”
I signed back, “Miss Millie’s doctor.” Eddie nodded but then stopped to ask another question.
I translated for him. “Eddie wants to know if you’re sick.”
Instead of telling me what to sign to Eddie, Miss Millie looked right at him and shook her head. Then she pretended she had a cane and could barely walk. “Just oooooold,” she answered in an exaggerated way.
Eddie laughed so hard he dropped his plate. Miss Millie looked pleased she was able to talk to Eddie all by herself. “Bless his heart!” She grinned.
But after she took a few more steps, and coughed more, I asked, “Are you sure you’re not sick?”
Miss Millie smiled at me. “Like I told Eddie, I’m old, Alice-girl. And truth be told, when you’re ninety-two, ya know ya can’t be long for this world.”
I knew Miss Millie was old. And I knew she coughed all the time. But hearing her say that made my heart hurt. She looked over at me. “Now don’t be scrunchin’ up your pretty face on my account. Whatever happens to me next, I’ll be ready. Don’t ya fret none. Now tell me more about your daddy coming here.”
She knew that would make me change the subject, and it did.
chapter 20
I woke up earlier than even Mama on the Fourth of July. Truth be told, I don’t think I slept much at all.
Daddy was coming!
It’d been so long since I’d even talked to him, which was why I wasn’t sure I remembered his voice. About a month before we moved, he called and asked me about school, but he was asking about my teacher from back in third grade. Whenever I’d ask Mama if I could call him, she’d say he was traveling and she didn’t have a number for him.
We’d spent the day before cleaning. Even though Grandma’s house wasn’t that big, it took all day to dust and sweep and scrub it. And even though Grandma’s house is really old, I sat there that morning, smiling, thinking it looked pretty good. I hoped Daddy would smile when he saw the house and us.
After rereading all his letter-poems about being happy here, I was sure Daddy couldn’t really hate Rainbow.
Maybe I didn’t hate it as much either.
All that mattered though was that he remembered how much he loved us so that we’d be together again, wherever we lived.
I got dressed in my blue shorts and my red shirt and as soon as Mama got up, I had her put my hair in braids with red, white and blue ribbons. When I saw myself in the bathroom mirror, I wondered if I was still the spittin’ image of Daddy.
I couldn’t wait to find out.
As it got closer and closer to the time of the parade, I couldn’t stop smiling. My face felt funny with all that happiness holding it together.
Sitting on the porch, I was planning on how the day would go. First, we’d go to the parade. Then we’d walk back to Grandma’s house, where we’d have our picnic. Mama was inside already getting things started and the smells coming from the house made my tummy rumble.
After our picnic, I’d have Daddy go into the backyard with me. Just the two of us. That’s when I’d show him the letter-poems I found and the treasures I collected for him.
And what would happen next, I couldn’t quite imagine, but I knew it would end with more hugs and smiles.
Pam came over a little before the parade started. “Where is he? Where’s your daddy?”
“He’s not here yet,” I admitted, looking down the street, hoping to see a car that might be his.
“He better hurry. The parade starts in a few minutes.” Pam saw Eddie inside and opened the door to just go on in.
I made sure she heard me when I yelled, “Don’t worry! He’ll make it.”
But he didn’t.
. . . . . .
When Mama, Eddie and Pam were ready to leave, I told Mama I’d stay and wait for Daddy.
But she wasn’t hearing it. “No,” she told me. “You need to come with us. We won’t be far—just right up the street. He’ll know where we are if he gets here before it’s over.”
So even though I wasn’t with Daddy, I agreed to go to the parade.
Of course, calling it a parade might be a bit of an exaggeration. There was the one police car starting things off, followed by a group of adults wearing ribbons across their chest with titles like Mayor and Grand Marshal. After them came what I guessed was the high school marching band. And then there were a bunch of bicycles decorated with red, white and blue streamers. One boy put playing cards in his bike’s spokes, trying to make as much noise as the drumbeat had before.
Finally, there was a fire truck that said Centerville on the side, with some firemen standing on it, waving to the crowd. Turns out Rainbow’s so small they had to borrow a fire truck from somewhere else for a parade. Guess they’d have to borrow it for a fire, too.
As we watched the parade, I felt the sweat dripping down my back. Everyone always said you get used to this heat after a while, but if that’s true, I want to know how long a while is.
I guess the heat is the only thing Rainbow doesn’t do small.
While I was feeling like a sticky pile of clothes being held up by a sweaty mound of flesh, I glanced at Mama and wondered if we were even related. How could she look so fresh-as-a-daisy pretty on a sweltering day like today? Lately I’d been noticing she looked extra-nice.
And I wasn’t the only person noticing.
That dang Mr. O’Brien came over to watch the parade with us, which didn’t make me happy at all. What if Daddy came back right then and thought the wrong thing? And the way Mama was giggling at everything the grocer said that wasn’t even funny, I could see that Daddy might be right in thinking the wrong thing.
. . . . . .
As soon as the parade was over, I ran ahead of everyone to get back to Grandma’s house. I stopped running when I saw there wasn’t an extra car in the driveway.
I peeked in the screen door just to make sure he wasn’t inside, maybe took the train, but the house was quiet. By the time everyone else got back from the parade, I was sitting in the shade on the front porch swing, waiting. Mama looked at me with sad eyes that made me think maybe she was missing Daddy, too.
I guess not sleeping much the night before, combined with the rocking motion, started to mak
e my eyes flutter shut and before I knew it, I plumb fell asleep in that rocking chair.
The next thing I knew, there was a tap on my shoulder. Maybe I was dreaming about Daddy, because I just knew I’d see him tapping me when I opened my eyes. But it was only Eddie. The disappointment tumbled from my heart to my stomach and I had to blink a couple of times to focus on what he was signing. “Daddy on the phone.”
That made no sense. Why was he on the phone when he was on his way here?
I raced inside to hear Mama arguing with him. “I can’t believe you are doing this. Again. No, you tell her . . .”
Mama handed the phone to me.
“Daddy? Where are you?”
“Hey, baby-girl! How is my beautiful baby-girl?”
“Where are you, Daddy? You already missed the parade. It wasn’t much, but you missed it! When are you coming?”
The silence on the other end made my heart sink.
“Daddy?”
“I’m here.”
“Where? Where are you? In Columbus?”
“No . . . I’m not in Columbus anymore.”
My heart filled with hope. “Well, Daddy, when you get here, I have a surprise for you. I think you’re really going to like it. Are you almost here?”
He cleared his throat. “Baby-girl, I’m in Las Vegas.”
Now, I knew that was west of here, far west of here. And I also knew it meant Daddy wasn’t coming. Words kept pouring out of the receiver, tumbling straight to the floor, but it was like they were in another language. I did hear some words like, “. . . great city . . . job opportunity . . . call you soon . . .” They rattled around my brain—but nothing made sense and my attention began to fade until I heard an odd but familiar coughing in the background of the phone.
I hung up. On Daddy. Never did that before. Hung up on the same daddy I’d been waiting to talk to for so long.
Mama saw and didn’t tell me anything like It’s rude to hang up without saying goodbye. She just tried to hug me—but I shook loose of her and started walking . . . one foot in front of the other . . . until I found myself at that shed.
I picked up the old shoe box of letters with the heart and Mama’s and Daddy’s names scribbled inside it. I opened it and saw the letters with the rock from the wishing well, the school flag, the oak leaf, an old picture of the two of them at their prom that Grandma had, and everything else I’d collected.
And right then I did the only thing I could think of.
I threw the box back in the shed, not even stopping to worry about everything inside scattering all over the floor.
After that, I put one foot in front of the other once again until I found myself at Miss Millie’s.
chapter 21
Miss Millie sat at the picnic table. And beside her was Miss Frankie working her way through a plate of food.
Mama would have said it was horrible manners to barge in when I saw Miss Millie had company. But I couldn’t help myself.
I stomped over to the picnic table that was full of enough chicken, potato salad, deviled eggs and chips to feed a lot more than the two ladies, and plopped myself down.
Just like that, I sat down like they were waiting for me and it was about time I got there.
Miss Millie looked over to me and tried to smile, but her smile didn’t look too happy.
“Glad you’re here, Alice-girl,” she finally said.
But I couldn’t begin to talk just then since I had more emotions swirling inside me than Miss Frankie had piles of food on her plate.
And that was a lot.
Miss Millie cleared her throat. “Miss Frankie, I reckon you remember Miss Alice, here?”
Miss Frankie nodded my way, and I was glad to see she was too busy eating to want to chat now.
Which was fine with me.
I was done talking to people.
Maybe forever.
Miss Millie looked at Miss Frankie and moved her head up and down like she was waiting for something. Miss Frankie shrugged her shoulders.
Then Miss Millie cleared her throat again, this time real dramatic-like, the way a person does when they really don’t have something stuck in there, they’re just trying to get someone’s attention. “Ahem!” she said to Miss Frankie, before she turned to me. “Alice-girl, I think Miss Frankie owes you an apology.”
Miss Frankie snorted, stopped her chewing and wiped her mouth. Finally, in an exaggerated fancy voice, she said, “Miss Alice, I do so beg your pardon. When the phone rang a bit ago, I’s in the house fetching a fork—’cause some people don’t know how to set a table—well, I’s fetching myself a fork when that phone rang. Thinking it was for Millie, and being the thoughtful friend I am, knowing how much older she is than me, I grabbed that phone. Guess it wasn’t for Miss Millie, though—it was for you. It was your papa.”
So that was it. When Daddy was coughing up excuses, I thought I’d heard actual coughing that sounded like Miss Millie on the other end. So I guess this time it was Miss Frankie doing the listening in on the party line.
Miss Millie, who I noticed still hadn’t touched her plate, turned back to me. “I’m so sorry your daddy didn’t come today. Do ya want to go inside and talk? Or maybe we could take Clarence for a walk after dinner—where is that dog? Can’t believe he’s not begging for food.”
Before I could answer, we were interrupted by a boy standing at the open side gate yelling, “I think he belongs to you, don’t he?”
I don’t know if I was more surprised that the boy who was doing the yelling was none other than the younger McHale brother—or that the “he” he was referring to was Clarence.
Clarence—who wasn’t moving at all!
“What did you do to him?” I shouted as I ran over to them. I wanted to smack that McHale boy, but Clarence took up the entire length of his arms and I didn’t want to accidentally hit the dog instead. So I started pumping my clenched fist in the air, pretending I was hitting that boy, and maybe even Daddy, Mama and everyone in Rainbow, too.
Miss Millie, who I guess has had a lot more practice dealing with sadness and disappointment, raised herself from the picnic table and walked over to Clarence. “What happened to my dog, young man?”
The McHale boy had the look of a lamb who’d accidentally wandered into a den full of foxes.
“I . . . uh . . . found him up the street. A car . . . It didn’t stop.”
At that moment I prayed to the God I hoped wasn’t deaf at all. I prayed that Clarence wasn’t dead. Hadn’t Miss Millie lost enough in this world?
The thought of that ornery little dog not running in circles anymore made my eyes start to water, too.
Would you believe right then and there I knew God could hear just fine since Clarence started to stir in the McHale boy’s arms? His wrinkled eye peeked open as he let out a low pathetic growl like he was telling the McHale boy he wasn’t as helpless as he looked. Miss Millie took Clarence in her arms and he yelped.
“Musta knocked him out, but he seems to be coming to.” She moved to the table with all the food and scooted the fried chicken and deviled eggs to the side so she could lay down her little baby. Miss Frankie’s eyes grew as big as those deviled eggs at the suggestion of her Independence Day feast being ruined, but even she knew not to interrupt Miss Millie right then.
The rest of us stood back and watched as Miss Millie stroked the beat-up tan-and-white hair of her Clarence and looked for injuries. His tiny circle eyes peeked out from his tan eye patch and watched her every move like he was saying, It’s okay, I trust you. I saw her lips moving, but couldn’t hear the words she was saying to him as she, ever so gentle, felt around his whole body. When she got to his hind leg, he let out another yelp.
I looked over at the McHale boy, who stood there with his mouth wide open and his arms still reaching out like he still held Clarence.
; Miss Millie pulled out her handkerchief and wrapped it tight around Clarence’s hind leg, knotting it with the skill of someone who’d done such a thing before. When she was done, Clarence licked her hand, like he was saying, Thanks, that’s better.
Then he must’ve got a whiff of the feast laid out next to him, because he turned his head like someone called his name, stood up on all but his hind leg and started to eat a chicken leg.
At the sight of the dog eating her feast, Miss Frankie let out a yelp like she’d been hit by a car as well. To keep the peace, Miss Millie moved Clarence with both his sore leg and his chicken leg to the ground. Then she turned to the McHale boy. “You got a first name, Mr. McHale?”
“I . . . uh . . . yes.”
“Well, do I have to guess what it is, or might ya tell me?” Miss Millie winked at me as I remembered my similar first encounter with her.
“I . . . um . . . My name is Jake.”
“Well, Jake, I owe ya for saving my dog. Thank ya kindly.” With those words, she stretched out her hand to shake his. In that moment, fear crept across his face as if he was staring at a poisonous snake about to strike and not the hand of an old lady.
I’ve heard grown-ups talk about time standing still, and I never got it before. But right then at that moment when Miss Millie held out her hand to Jake McHale and he wasn’t sure what to do with it, if time didn’t stand completely still, it at least slowed down more than a bit.
Even Miss Frankie stopped slurping up her food. And I swear Clarence paused from his bone to watch the goings-on.
At the moment time might have been remembering to go forward, Miss Millie might have been remembering just who was on the other end of her stretched-out hand. I was remembering what I heard about the McHales’ daddy being mean and prejudiced, and Miss Frankie saying, The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, right when Miss Millie might have been thinking all that, too. I saw the smile begin to leave her face as her hand began to lower.
But right before her outstretched hand came to rest at her side, Jake McHale reached out his dirt-covered hand and grabbed Miss Millie’s hand in his.