by Anne Lovett
Momma set her lips in a thin line. You’re going to be the one to tell your daddy.
Sure, said Ava, and reached for a sandwich.
Wait till we say grace, scolded Momma.
By suppertime Momma was lying down again and Mimi was in the kitchen heating up butterbeans, an apron tied around her waist.
Chap pushed open the door and grinned at Mimi with just his teeth, no eyes crinkling up. How you doing, Irene? He walked over to the icebox and found a cold beer and crunched it open with the church key.
Tolerable, she said.
How’s Walter? Chap said, taking a long sip of beer. Surprised he let you come.
Gwendolyn’s my only child, Mimi said. I come to see about her.
I can’t do nothin’ with her. Can’t help nobody don’t want help.
You ought to take her to the doctor and make them tell you what’s wrong. That’s what I did with Walter. I shake my stick at them.
Chap looked at his beer. That don’t work here, Irene.
Mimi looked like she was going to hit Chap with her stick but Ava came in just then. She said real quick in one breath, Chap I got to tell you something I got a job I’m going to be working at Doc Weir’s drugstore.
Say what?
She’s gonna be working at the drugstore, said Mimi. That’s a mighty enterprising young lady.
Goldang, said Chap. Did I say you could get a job?
You said you weren’t giving me any more money.
I ought to take a plum switch to you.
She crossed her arms and looked down at him, like she couldn’t believe he had said that. That was uncalled for, Chap, said Mimi.
Who asked you to butt in? This is between me and Ava.
I’m the child’s grandmother. You going to need me if something happens to Gwen.
Nothin’s going to happen to Gwen.
They were fixing to get into it again, so I said, Ava wants to buy a nice dress for when she has a date with Duke Radford. He’s coming tonight, right?
Chap was hunched over the beer and now he raised his head. Every mornin’ I stand out in front of the shop and watch that goddam D.B. Radford ride to his office in that goddam big Lincoln. I work on that car and keep it like a goddam sewin’ machine. We started out in nineteen-eighteen, both went to Souther Field to learn to fly. They said I was too hotheaded for combat. Spent the war workin’ as a mechanic, flew a few ground missions. He gets to be a flyin’ ace, but who kept him in the air? I come back with my hearin’ shot and he comes back with the glory.
He took a long swig of beer and wiped his mouth. Hell, I hope she does marry his son. Go to the drugstore, lassie. You have the blessin’ of your pa. He made a cross in the air.
I wish you wouldn’t swear Chap, said Mimi. Or be sacrilegious.
Who, me? Chap said.
Well, I better get ready, Ava said, looking confused about whether she had won or not.
Momma came in then and said she was feeling a little better. Lord. I just live to see that child in a white gown. She will be the most beautiful bride this town has ever seen.
Don’t get the cart ahead of the horse, Mimi warned.
There’s gonna be a war, Chap said. We’ll see what kind of stuff this boy is made of.
Chap was waiting out on one of the old metal porch chairs when Duke pulled up in front of our house. He walked up on the porch and Chap said, You like my daughter so much, looks like you could sit down and talk to me.
Momma and Mimi were in the living room, hovering around, murmuring that Chap was gonna scare him away.
Duke smiled. Sure. But we’re due at a party.
I won’t keep you now. You willin’ to fight?
That’s my intention.
Ava came out dressed in the yellow skirt again. She walked down and slid her arm through Duke’s and smiled up at him. See you later, Daddy.
Got something for you, punkin, Duke said to me. He winked at me and I wanted to run to him and throw my arms around him but Ava would pinch me for sure. He handed me a rolled-up handkerchief. Don’t unroll it till I’m gone.
They walked down the walkway and to the car. He opened the door for her and she got in and settled back into the seat. When the roar from the motor had died out I unrolled the handkerchief.
What’s that? said Chap. What did he give you? Let me see.
I laid it in Chap’s outstretched hand. He smiled. That damn boy is gonna be a paratrooper.
He threw the handkerchief into the air and it was rigged up, string tied to the four corners tied to a bolt, and it floated down, swinging this way and that.
I played with it until it got dark, and I slept with it under my pillow.
Ava didn’t have everything.
Chapter Four
February 1942
A bright cold sun came up on Valentine’s Day of 1942, sparking through the bare limbs of the pecan trees, turning the frost on the scraggy front porch bushes to wisps of fog. The leaves on the ground crackled underfoot, and the air was so still you could hear a piano playing early morning blues from a block away.
I took my new binoculars out to the porch and pointed them at the sky looking for enemy planes. Chap had told me how to spot them by their shapes, but all I saw this day were clouds and crows, pecan hulls like black tulips and wrinkled chinaberries.
Whut you got there? I heard Willie Pennyman say. I hadn’t seen Willie since he was in town laughing at me for being scared of that mule.
I lowered the binoculars. He wouldn’t laugh at these. Hey, Willie, I said. I walked over and showed him. Look what I got for Christmas, I said.
Yeah, he said, I didn’t have so good a Christmas.
Santy Claus not come?
He shook his head. He come, all right. But my brother Cyrus, his ship got sunk by the Japs.
It was like the time I fell off the jungle gym, all the breath knocked out of me. The war had gotten close to home. I sure am sorry, Willie, I said. Is he—
His dark face looked up at the sky. He ain’t dead. He in the Naval hospital. Missing a arm. How he gone work now? My momma is still wailin’.
Maybe he can help with the chickens.
Uh-huh. I guess he could slop on the sauce. That ain’t no proper work.
There seemed nothing else to say and Willie scuffed his toes in the leaves. See you, Willie, I said.
He moved on along, his hands in his pockets, jingling some change. I guess he was headed to the store for his momma. Just as I turned to go back in the house I saw stupid Hardy Pritchard’s car coming down the street. I found Momma laying the table for supper.
She grabbed my hand. Freezing cold, Mae Lee, you’ll catch your death. Don’t go back outside.
Willie Pennyman just told me his brother lost his arm at Pearl Harbor, I said, and started to tell her that Hardy Pritchard was coming. But she looked so tired and I didn’t want to worry her. I shut my mouth.
Wash your hands, she said.
I heard about Cyrus Pennyman, Chap said, coming into the kitchen. He’s lucky to be alive. Was a steward.
Lucky, said Momma. Was it his right arm or his left?
Willie didn’t say.
Momma dished up soup and cornbread, and Chap put his paper aside, and Momma told me to go get Ava who was in her room dressing for a Valentine’s dance. Then somebody knocked at the front door.
Before I could say anything Ava popped out of her room in a flowered housecoat and went to the door. Chap’s here, I heard her say.
Hardy Pritchard in a big leather coat followed Ava into the kitchen, grinning and scratching the back of his head, saying I sure hate to disturb you folks but I was just in the neighborhood and thought I would stop by, see if the rent is ready. I looked at the calendar. He was a day early.
Hell, I got it, said Chap, and he reached in his pocket and pulled out some cash. Momma passed it to Hardy Pritchard while Chap went back to his soup and cornbread.
Won’t you have a bit of supper, Mr. Pritchard? Momma asked, in a p
olite voice but not a specially encouraging one.
Hardy Pritchard chose to listen to the words. I think I will have a cup of that coffee, he said. It’s mighty cold out there. You folks go ahead with your supper.
Momma turned her back and poured him a cup and handed it over. Here you are, have a seat. He pulled up a chair while Ava hung over by the door, saying she had a date.
How’s it goin’? said Chap.
Hardy Pritchard blew on the coffee. Had a bit of a problem with the draft board, but it’s all straightened out now. Course I’d go, but you know how it is, when you got responsibilities.
Yeah, said Chap. I think we all got to think about our responsibilities. How’s Mis’ Celia?
Well, you know, said Hardy Pritchard. She’s got them nerves.
She don’t seem nervous to me, said Momma, when I go to the library.
The library’s good for her, Hardy Pritchard said. She likes doin’ volunteer work. It was clear he didn’t like the way the conversation was going but now he had his coffee and couldn’t leave without being rude. Ava looked at the floor like she wanted to be anywhere but here.
Would you like some cornbread, Mr. Pritchard? Momma said.
Ava’s head came up when somebody else knocked at the door. Oh Lord, he’s early, she said, and I’m not dressed.
I guess I’d better be going, you folks got comp’ny. Hardy Pritchard got up from the table, his coffee only half drunk.
I’ll see you to the door, said Ava.
Hardy Pritchard smirked but I got up and ran to the door first and flung it open. Duke Radford stood there holding a corsage box.
Ava looked from one to the other and Hardy Pritchard grunted something and slapped his hat on his head and stormed out the door.
If looks could kill you’d be dead, Radford, said Chap, grinning. Your daddy is on the draft board, I know that.
What are you talking about? Ava said, opening the box. The corsage was red roses, and she buried her nose in them. I love red, she said.
Nothing but the best for you, sweetheart, Duke said.
I heard Momma in the kitchen rattling dishes and in a minute she came out wiping her hands on her apron. How do you do, Dulany? We’ve just finished, but there’s still some soup if—
I’m early, ma’am, and I apologize.
Of course, said Momma. What beautiful flowers.
I’m going to put my dress on now, Ava said, would you hold these?
There’s apple pie, Momma said, taking the flowers. Dulany?
We’ll get something to eat, Ava said. She whirled out of the room.
You should be about finished with your trainin’, said Chap. Where they sendin’ you? Washington?
Not much call for paratroopers in Washington.
Just thought with your old man—
I’m going to the Pacific, said Duke.
Thought that was navy territory.
Special assignment, said Duke. My brother-in-law.
Yeah, I know the colonel.
Ava came in wearing the red polka-dotted dress she had bought with the drugstore money and Momma pinned on the flowers and she borrowed Momma’s wool coat, the black one with the big buttons she had bought before Chap lost his business.
You’ll be the prettiest girl at the club, he said.
She really did look like a movie star with that red red lipstick matching the dress and the roses. Edging out the door, I followed them out on the porch. Ava was saying, Duke, can’t that colonel get you assigned somewhere close to home?
I want to be out there, said Duke.
I don’t understand it, said Ava.
He kissed her on the nose. You’re young.
She stuck her lip out. Not too young to know I love you, Duke.
Oh mush, I said. Ick.
She turned and saw me then. Where did you come from, brat? She reached out to yank my hair but I dodged. Go back inside, she said. And it was cold out there and she had on Momma’s coat and I didn’t, but I stayed put.
Duke looked down and winked at me. You look after Ava while I’m gone, punkin. Promise.
Cross my heart and hope to die. I left them then and went back inside where Momma was cleaning up the kitchen.
Momma, I think Duke Radford should marry me instead of Ava.
She almost dropped the pan in the sink. And what made you think of such a thing, may I ask?
I don’t make goo goo eyes at Hardy Pritchard.
Ava doesn’t either, Momma said.
Yes, she does. I saw them.
She smiled then, like she thought I was being funny. Well, he’s easy on the eyes, that one, too much for his own good.
Beauty is as beauty does, I said. That’s what you always say.
I do, she said.
Ava doesn’t listen, I said.
You two, Momma said. Don’t be jealous.
I’m going to grow up one day, I said. Then Ava better look out.
Can’t you do something with her hair, Gwen? Chap frowned at my stringy dishwater locks.
Take me to the beauty parlor like Mis’ Celia, I said.
Hush your mouth, girl, Momma said. Mind your own business.
I wanted to say, Why should I? But I couldn’t say that.
Chapter Five
After Duke left for training, somebody began to call Ava on the phone, somebody she talked to in that slow, honey-purple voice, the voice she used when Momma and Chap weren’t home. She didn’t mind me, because she thought I was too dumb to figure anything out. I wasn’t too dumb to figure this mystery caller was stupid Hardy Pritchard.
She thought I was such a little bit of nothing she didn’t bother to hide a letter from Duke. I found it lying right between her bed and mine, partly covered by the rumpled bedclothes.
When I picked up the blue paper, I smoothed out the crackles and looked at the words. Even though they were written in cursive I could read most of them.
I love you honey and I miss you and think about you every night when my head hits the pillow. Now you are mine forever and don’t you forget it. Maybe it was wrong.
I didn’t hear her come in.
She shrieked and snatched it out of my hand. How dare you.
It was on the floor, I said.
Momma made a bad mistake teaching you to read, she said. She looked around for the envelope. She jerked the bedcovers off, and the envelope tumbled out. One day, Mae Lee, you’re going to get in bad trouble being so nosy, she said, stuffing the letter back in.
I’m just interested in the world around me, I said, which is what I heard Momma tell Mabel Conable about me one day.
I can interest you in this, Ava said, and curled her fist around a hank of my hair, which was thin and silky like Momma’s and not thick curly dark like Ava’s and Chap’s. She yanked, hard.
Ow, no fair, I said, and ran to the door. Then, still mad, I turned back and shouted at her, What did you and Duke do wrong?
What the hell are you talking about?
Duke said, maybe it was wrong, neener neener.
She lunged for me but I was out the door and running for Momma.
I didn’t tattle, but I slept on the sofa in the living room for a week after that. I was afraid she was going to smother me with a pillow while I was sleeping.
Then I got sick. They told me it was glandular fever and I missed weeks of school. Momma taught me at home, and there we were, two sick folks together. I had to take spoonfuls of nasty-tasting tonic and baby aspirin, and I felt too bad to snoop or listen to what Ava was saying on the phone. Hardy Pritchard never came around anymore, because Chap started going by his father’s office to pay the rent.
Momma remarked one day that she had seen Mis’ Celia Pritchard at the library, and she really did feel sorry for her. She thought she was lonely. What she needed was a baby, she said.
I don’t think so, Ava said.
But why not? asked Momma.
People say she’s too nervous to be a good mother, Ava said.
Mom
ma just looked at Ava. Well, I think she’s lonely.
Ava just got up and went to paint her nails.
Ava graduated from high school and went to work at the drugstore full-time. There were hardly any soda jerks left in the whole county; they had all enlisted or been drafted and like Chap said, Radford Industries was taking up any slack in the job market. They had switched production from work pants to army uniforms.
That summer it seemed there was a wedding every weekend. I went to three at John Wesley Methodist Church, wearing my black patent shoes and pink organdy dress and stuffing myself at the reception with ginger ale punch and chicken salad sandwiches and green and pink and white mints. After the Conables’ oldest boy, Elmo Junior, tied the knot right before he shipped out, Ava started talking about the wedding she was going to have when the war was over.
She would have a white dress of lace and satin, with a long train, and orange blossoms for her hair ordered special from Florida, and for her troo-so silk nightgowns and slinky slippers, and folks would give her gold-rimmed plates and crystal glasses, real silver for the table, and closets full of smooth white bedsheets with scalloped edges, towels in all colors, and damask tablecloths. She would have a hope chest made of cedar to put everything in.
Hmph, said Momma. You need pots and pans and a sewing machine and a housecoat you can cook in. And some cheap dishes from Woolworths because they get broken. Especially with kids.
Ava just kept reading her magazines, cutting out pictures of things she wanted and pasting them in a scrapbook.
I’m going to live a different kind of life, she said. Rich people don’t have to be afraid of breaking something, because they can afford to buy another one. I’ll have dinner parties like they do in the movies, she said. Maybe even a butler. I’ll have a maid to iron my clothes. And I will wait to have children.
So what does Duke say about that? Momma said.
He wants me to be happy, she said.
And what makes him happy? Momma said.
Ava slapped her scrapbook shut. He’ll be happy if I’m happy, she said.
You know the fairy tale about counting the chickens before they’re hatched? Did he ask you yet? I held my breath. Maybe he hadn’t.