The Devil Has Dimples

by Pepper Phillips

  Grant grimaced. “Yes, only twice. But it feels like more.”

  “You need to go to the hospital and get your head examined?” Lenny asked.

  Undoubtedly, he needed his head examined. He wasn’t pressing charges. What attorney would turn down a rock-solid case? Then I remembered that what might be said in front of the judge would be public record, and I surely didn’t want my laundry flapping in the breeze. As I’m sure Grant doesn’t either.

  So, off to the hospital we went. Grant limping,

  Fortunately, all he had were multiple scrapes and bruises.

  I only had a bruised heart.

  * * *

  I heard Grant in the middle of the night. It sounded as though he was getting himself a bite to eat.

  I just lay there in bed. Too mentally exhausted to get up and have a confrontation. I needed some answers, and Grant wasn’t willing to enlighten me.

  The stars twinkled above my head. Seemingly innocent. Yet, they had seen everything. Eons of everything.

  The phone rang. The clock stated that it was ten o’clock. I thought it was midnight!

  I almost didn’t want to answer it. I needed some quiet. But I picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Sara?”

  It was Bitsy.

  “Bitsy?”

  “Can I come over?” She asked.

  “I wish you would.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” I hung up the phone. Well, I might be getting some answers to my questions soon.

  I got out of bed. It was a good thing I just fell into bed, as I was already dressed. I washed my face and combed my hair then left my room.

  The upstairs room was empty. There was no light under Grant’s door, so I slipped downstairs and waited for Bitsy.

  It didn’t take her long to arrive.

  I had the door open before she had a chance to knock.

  “Can we talk down here?” I asked.

  She glanced up the staircase, knowing that I wanted privacy, just by my question.

  “Yes, it would be better.”

  She certainly was a little woman, coming barely to my shoulder. She was wrapped in a coat, there being a slight chill outside. She took it off and folded it neatly. Killing time with the niceties of life.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” I asked.

  The question seemed to startle her. “Oh, no.”

  She sat neatly on the love seat by the cash register.

  “I’m sorry about Grant,” she said meekly.

  “What about Grant?”

  She looked at me nervously.

  “Don’t you know?”

  “That Tina ran him down with a car?” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes. I know,” I said.

  She looked at me solemnly, then sunk her head in her hands.

  “I left Silas.” Bitsy said.

  I reached out and took her in my arms. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s because of you.”

  “Me! Why me? What happened? Where have you been? How did I get involved with your marriage?” I’d finally lost my patience. My voice kept going higher after each question.

  Bitsy smiled. “You’re starting to sound like T-Jack.”

  “Like T-Jack, I don’t have any answers just questions.”

  She patted my hand.

  “Neither do I.”

  I groaned.

  “Silas is so difficult.”

  “That is truly an understatement,” I said.

  “He’s a good man, but when he drinks, he gets unreasonable. He thinks that you’re spreading rumors about him.”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. What a comedy of errors.

  “It’s really not funny, Sara.”

  I had to shake my head.

  “No. It’s not funny. Why don’t you tell me what happened? Start with where you went.”

  She lowered her head and her voice.

  “I went to stay with my Mom for a few days.”

  Her Mom!

  “And?”

  She looked exasperated. “Silas hates for me to visit Mom. He calls her interfering and meddlesome.”

  “Why did you go to see her?”

  She looked at me with wide, childlike eyes. “Mom knows everything that happens around here. I thought she might know who your father was, I don’t believe Maudie would ever treat me bad by going with my husband, but, I’m not too sure about Silas.”

  Oh no. It was worse than I thought.

  “What did your mother say?”

  “She wouldn’t talk to me. She said I had to bring you.”

  “Me?”

  Bitsy frowned. “I hesitated about telling you this, but I honestly don’t know what to do anymore.”

  She broke down and started to cry. “Silas is angry with me, I think our marriage is finally over.”

  Good riddance, I thought. But she looked so pitiful. I enclosed her in my arms and let her cry. She was so thin. I could feel the tremors through her body.

  “Did Naomi go with you?”

  She snuffled, then looked up at me.

  “No. Why would she do that?”

  Uh-oh, things were getting complicated. “The word is out that both of you went to Hot Springs.”

  “Hot Springs? We don’t do that until February.”

  There was something definitely wrong here. “So, Naomi isn’t with you?”

  “No.” Bitsy hesitated, then asked. “Where do you think she might have gone?”

  I thought about that for a moment. “You got me.”

  Bitsy shook her head. “I haven’t a clue where she is.”

  We sat, arm in arm for a moment longer.

  “T-Beau misses you. He’s worried.”

  Bitsy sat up straight, and removed her arm from around me. She sighed deeply. “Yes, I guess I better go home.”

  Home. Such that it was. Silas might still be angry. “You can stay here the night if you wish.”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to impose.”

  I brushed aside her notion. “It’s not an imposition.”

  She seemed to think about it. Then shook her head.

  “No. I better go and see if I still have a husband.”

  I walked with her to the door, Bitsy turned as the door opened. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, would you go to Mother’s with me for dinner?”

  I smiled briefly. “Dinner would be wonderful.”

  * * *

  April 22, 1984

  I went to Lafayette and found a doctor there.

  He says that I am due in December.

  December. The happiest month of the year.

  And I have to give my baby away.

  I want a family that wants a baby.

  Parents who will give my child love and happiness.

  I don’t want to go through any agencies, they ask too many questions.

  I want someone who will accept my child.

  I wonder.

  I wonder.

  I think I know someone who will love my child.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Grant wasn’t talking to me.

  He’d been closed up in his bedroom all morning. I peeked in once, but he was sound asleep.

  Considering his condition, I let him sleep.

  He woke up around ten. I could hear the shower running a long time. So I brewed a fresh pot of coffee and threw in the coffee cake I made into the oven to warm it up.

  But he didn’t come out of his room.

  At eleven, I tapped on his door.

  “Grant.”

  Silence. I sighed. I hate confrontations. But apparently, we were headed for one. It could wait until after dinner. I went into my room and got dressed in something suitable. I certainly was getting tired of the same few outfits. I needed to go shopping again. Or go home and forget about Boggy Bayou, and Grant.

  Needless to say, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. It seemed as though everyone was against me finding out who my
birth father was, and at this point, what difference did it make? If he was in town, he knew I was looking for him, and hadn’t stepped forward.

  What if he had a family? What if he was married when he had an affair with Maudie? I could understand those reasons for not stepping forward.

  Men have a different attitude concerning children than women. I wondered if he even knew Maudie had a child by him. What if Maudie didn’t know who the father was!

  My mind was taking me nowhere.

  I dressed. Checking myself out in a mirror, I guessed I looked presentable. I wondered if I should bring something, so I wrapped up the coffee cake. Grant had his chance.

  I trotted downstairs, placed the cake on the counter, and decided to tackle the bookcase while waiting for Bitsy.

  I grabbed a dust cloth, grabbed the handy-dandy little step stool and wiped down the top of the bookcase. There was a thin book on there and I thumbed through it. Poetry. No notes included between the pages. So I threw it down on the top of Maudie’s empty desk.

  I decided it would be easier to remove the books on the top shelf, dust them, check out the insides, and replace them once the shelves were cleaned.

  I plopped down the first load and a cloud of dust raised up in the air causing me to sneeze.

  The doorbell rang, so I went out of the office, sneezing my head off.

  Bitsy was there. I unlocked the door and turned to cough into the dust cloth. A bad choice. It only worsened my condition.

  Bitsy started to hit me on the back, asking, “You okay.”

  I finally stopped. “Yeah.”

  “You ready to go?” She asked.

  I sighed. I really didn’t want to, but felt like I was a minnow in a flood. I had to go. Grabbing the cake off the counter, we took off.

  Maudie drove an old Volkswagen Beetle, painted orange.

  “Nice car,” I said.

  She looked at me dubiously, knowing I was being polite.

  “It’s not like you to lie, Sara.”

  She got me there. Okay. If she wants honesty.

  “This is really a piece of junk, Bitsy.”

  Her face broke into a thousand crinkles, and she started to laugh.

  “You got that right. The thing is old enough to vote twice over!”

  “What’s with the paint job?”

  She chortled some more, tried to catch her breath, but failed. “That damn Silas spray painted it with some paint that was on sale down at the discount store. That’s why it’s splotchy in spots. Looks like shit.”

  Yes it did. But it ran smooth enough, though the engine was loud. “At least you can find it in any parking lot.”

  She patted me on the knee. “You’re okay, Sara. I needed a laugh.”

  “Well, seeing this car in your driveway every day, should give you plenty of laughs.”

  We turned into a driveway, there were three other cars parked in front of us.

  That made me nervous.

  “Who else is going to be here?” I asked.

  Bitsy frowned as she looked at the cars in front of us.

  “My parents.”

  Her parents. They were both alive! Geez, how old were they?

  “T-Beau. And Silas.”

  I felt my stomach drop. I didn’t want to fool with Silas today. In fact, I don’t think I ever wanted to see Silas again in this lifetime.

  “I guess your marriage is still on.”

  Bitsy bowed her head in defeat. “Yes. Thankfully, he’d rather live with me than without me. He wasn’t going to come today, but he must have changed his mind. He hates to eat at Mother’s, but he knows that if he’s here, we won’t talk about him. But you know, I love him. For all his warts and worries, I love the lout.”

  I reached over and squeezed her hand. “I can understand that I guess. You have to go where your heart takes you.”

  “You’re a sweet girl, Sara. Very sweet,” she said.

  I felt anything but sweet. If anything, I felt snarly. I gritted my teeth, grabbed the cake, and opened the door.

  If nothing else, I loved to punish myself. And this would definitely be a punishment.

  We got out of the car and went up the walkway. A few spider lilies were blooming, waving their stalks in the air. I wanted to turn around and leave, but trudged onward.

  Bitsy opened the front door and we stepped inside.

  An elderly gent sat in a recliner and turned his head to see us. “Ah, Maudie’s daughter.”

  He slowly got up and shuffled over to us.

  “Sara, this is my dad, Mackie Marcotte.” Bitsy said.

  I held out my hand and he enveloped it in both of his gnarled hands.

  “My pleasure. My pleasure indeed.” He looked intently at my face. “You resemble her, you know.”

  I smiled. Maybe I could get some answers here. “How?”

  He tilted his head, then smiled. “Around the eyes, I think.”

  “That’s kind of you to notice.”

  He laughed. “Don’t have much else to do anymore but notice.”

  He let go of my hands and shuffled back to his chair. It took him awhile to sit and get positioned correctly. He lifted his hand and motioned toward the back of the house. “Mom’s in the kitchen.”

  I followed Bitsy and stepped into a kitchen that was dated back to the seventies at least. The stove was avocado green. Good smells were going on. T-Beau stood at the stove stirring a pot. He glanced in my direction and shyly said. “Hi, Miss Sara.”

  I answered back. “Hi, T-Beau. What’s cooking.”

  He stirred the pot once more, then removed the spoon and placed a lid on top. “Just some chicken and okra gumbo.”

  “Smells delicious.”

  “It is.” He walked over to Bitsy and gave her a big hug.

  “I’ve missed you.” He whispered.

  “Where’s Silas?” Bitsy asked, she looked worried.

  “Out in the garage.”

  Bitsy gave a big sigh. “Where’s Mother?”

  T-Beau gave a shy smile to me. “She’s in her bedroom, sprucing up for our company.”

  “Good.” Bitsy threw me a look, but I couldn’t quite decipher her meaning.

  The phone rang. T-Beau picked up the receiver from the wall phone. Listened a moment and handed the phone to me.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Coach.”

  I groaned deep inside. Grabbing the phone, I answered. “Hello.”

  “What the hell are you doing over there?” He demanded.

  I’m sure that Bitsy and T-Beau could hear him yelling at me over the phone, so I gave them a smile. A feeble one, I’m sure.

  “I was invited for dinner. How did you know I was here?”

  He let out a big sigh. “I saw Bitsy’s beast of a car pull away, while I was drinking coffee on the porch.”

  So the sap was up when I left. “And?”

  “Why are you there, Sara?”

  It was my turn to sigh. Both T-Beau and Bitsy seemed occupied and not appearing to listen to my conversation, but I knew they were.

  “I was invited to dinner. That’s all.”

  That seemed to settle his nerves, a grunt sounded on the other end of the line.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  Duh. Men are so dense. Of course we needed to talk. We had heart-stopping sex. Well, at least I did. And then he’d been beaten up, hit by a car, then he’d totally ignored me, so yes. We did need to talk.

  I turned my head and looked out at the backyard through the glass in the door. Silas was coming.

  “Yes. As soon as I get back.” I hung up quickly, not giving Grant a chance to answer me. I wanted to be prepared when Silas walked in the door. Which he did.

  He took one look at me and snapped. “What is she doing here?”

  He glared at his wife and grandson, daring them to answer him.

  “I invited Maudie’s daughter, Silas. So be nice.” The voice was soft, gentle, but firm. I turned to see Bitsy’s mother standing i
n the hall doorway.

  She turned her gaze toward me and her eyes lit up. “Oh, Maudie’s daughter.”

  She opened her arms wide. “Come to me child. Let me give you a hug.”

  I entered her embrace. Then began to cry. What was wrong with me?

  I’m sure she could feel my sobs, and, sure enough, she started to stroke my back. “Don’t cry, baby. Your momma must have loved you an awful lot to give something so beautiful away. I can’t imagine how much it hurt her.”

  Did it? Did Maudie cry? She must have hurt, and hurt deeply. All the photos. Pictures of me in her bedroom, her workplace. As though she wanted me to be with her always. Perhaps she really did love me.

  I drew back from her embrace.

  She gave me a big grin. “Just call me Momma. Everyone does in these parts. Seems like I almost forgot my real name, everyone’s been calling me Momma for fifty or sixty years.”

  “I ain’t calling you ‘Momma’ and never have.” Silas interjected.

  What a jerk!

  “That’s ‘cause you haven’t any respect, Silas. Never did. Never will.” She entered the kitchen and called out.

  “Bitsy, girl, you and Sara come help me set this table. T-Beau, you start dishing up that rice. It’s time to eat.”

  What a charmer.

  We set the table in no time. Momma supervised.

  T-Beau brought in a tremendous bowl of gumbo and set it on the table next to the rice. There were baked sweet potatoes on a platter along with several sticks of butter.

  Momma turned to Bitsy. “Sweet girl, would you grab the hot vinegar out of the fridge.”

  Bitsy left. Momma bellowed. “Dinner, Mackie!”

  I know I jumped. Then, I heard the recliner creak. Mackie must be a bit deaf.

  Silas entered the kitchen, looking disgruntled.

  Momma motioned for me to sit beside her at the huge round table. At least I wouldn’t have to look at Silas directly across from the table. T-Beau sat across from me, while Bitsy sat between me and her husband. Mackie sat next to his wife.

  Momma reached out her hands to both sides, holding my hand and her husband’s. I held my hand out to Bitsy and when she tried to hold Silas’s hand, he ignored it. It didn’t seem like he was trying to repair his marriage or his life. The five of us held hands around the table.

  Mackie started grace.

  “Lord, bless us with your everlasting bounty. Our good health, our wonderful child, our blessed great-grandson, our beloved Maudie’s daughter. We praise you with our hearts. Amen.”