by D. Anne Love
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because Daddy still loves Mama. But even if he didn’t, divorces take time, even in Texas.”
Her covers rustled, and I imagined her throwing off her blanket and sheets and getting out of bed to pace, like she always did when she was thinking hard about something. “Get a grip, Phoebe. The world won’t end because Daddy smiled at an attractive woman.”
“I think Beverly Grace picked Daddy out on purpose,” I went on. “She wrote a magazine article about him last year. I think she bought Mrs. Archer’s house so she could trap him.”
Shyla let out a whoop so loud it about busted my eardrum. “Give the judge some credit, okay? He earns his living figuring out people’s motives. He’s too smart to fall for a scheme like that. Besides, how do you know Beverly isn’t married too?”
“I’ve never seen anybody else over there.”
“Well, she’s only lived there for a couple of days. Maybe her husband is in the military. Maybe he’s a traveling salesman. There could be a thousand reasons why he hasn’t shown up yet.”
“She’s not wearing a wedding ring,” I said. “She’s probably been divorced a million times already”
“Listen, Phoebe,” Shyla said in a voice that meant she was running low on patience, “I have to go. I have a ton of research to do at the library, plus a paper to finish, and I’m bushed. My relief person never showed up for work tonight, and I had to pull a double shift. I’m too tired to worry about Dad right now.”
“Fine. When Mama and Daddy wind up in divorce court, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“It’ll be okay,” Shyla said. “You’ll see.”
“When are you coming home?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe at the end of August, depending on whether I get an internship. But I’ll call you soon.”
“Shyla?”
“What?”
“I love you.” Somehow it was always easier to say over the phone.
“Love you too, kiddo.”
The line clicked.
Now a gas station was looming, and Daddy slowed down. Beverly turned around and said, “Bathroom break?”
“Okay.”
Zane had fallen asleep, one hand curled under his cheek, his music still playing. I got out and followed Beverly into the Gas and Go, past the candy aisle and the soft-drink dispensers and into the rest room at the back of the store. While I was in the one and only stall, I heard the short hiss of a spray bottle and came out into a cloud of White Shoulders perfume.
“I love this scent, don’t you?” Beverly put on some more lipstick, swiveled the tube closed, and dropped it into her bag. She leaned over the sink, and a silver ring suspended on a matching chain spilled from the open neck of her shirt. Her eyes met mine in the crackled mirror. “It was my husband’s. He died in a car crash in Rome two years ago, during a research trip.”
Just as I thought. No husband in the picture. I wanted to whip out my cell phone right then and gloat to Shyla, but of course I didn’t. “That’s awful,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”
“Thank you.”
She went into the stall. I left and waited for her outside. Daddy was standing beside the car, stuffing his credit card back into his wallet. Beverly came out, dug her sunglasses out of her bag, and took up the conversation right where she’d left off. “You’d have enjoyed talking to my Marshall. He was an anthropologist.”
Then I was glad I’d paid attention last year in Mr. Dunham’s social sciences class when we studied the work of Margaret Mead and Louis Leakey. Even though I didn’t trust Beverly, I didn’t want her to think I was a small-town hick who didn’t know anything. “Your husband went around digging up stuff from the past,” I said.
“Yes. He specialized in ancient battle sites. He found a number of human skeletons that showed evidence of mortal wounds, but his most important find was a sword that may have belonged to Perkin Warbeck.”
Never heard of the guy, but I nodded like I was impressed.
“Marshall was in the process of authenticating the sword when he died.”
Daddy tooted the horn. “Let’s go, you two.”
“Just a minute!” Beverly opened her wallet and handed me a ten. “Get us something cold to drink, will you, hon? Driving with the top down makes me thirsty.”
I went back inside and bought three colas and an extra-large root beer for Zane. When I got to the car, I handed Daddy and Beverly their cups, then got into the backseat and touched Zane’s cold cup to his bare arm to wake him up.
He jumped, then grabbed the drink and took a long pull on his straw. He looked at his watch. “Another hour and a half of this. God.”
“Hey,” Beverly said, switching on the car radio. “How about some Louisiana festival music to get us in the mood?”
“Must we?” Zane muttered.
“Zane,” Daddy warned. He put the blinker on and pulled back onto the interstate. Then we lapsed into silence until at long last we started seeing bigger towns, and signs pointing the way to the crawfish festival.
Since we weren’t meeting Mama until five o’clock, we headed to the festival grounds. Daddy parked in a dusty field, and we hiked back to the entrance. As soon as we got our tickets, me and Zane split and left Daddy and Beverly on their own. While a bluegrass band twanged away on a makeshift stage, we wandered around checking out the tattoo artists, jewelry makers, and T-shirt booths, but the food was the main attraction. Zane found a table under a tree near the stage. I saved our places while he scouted for food. Pretty soon he came back with two plates heaped with corn on the cob, coleslaw, and spicy steamed crawfish, which are creatures sort of like lobsters but so tiny you have to eat a boatload of them to feel full.
The bluegrass band finished its set, and a zydeco band began playing. Several couples got up and started dancing, their boots kicking up little clouds of dust. Zane wiped melted butter off his chin, surveyed the scene, and rolled his eyes. “What,” he said, “are we doing here?”
“Killing time until we can see Mama.” I ate a couple of the crawfish, but my stomach was so jumpy I pushed my plate away.
Zane snorted. “Like she gives a flip about us.”
“She’s the one who called Daddy and invited us here. That’s got to be a good sign. When she sees us, she’ll realize how much she misses us.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” He polished off the last of his corn, wiped his hands, and crushed his paper napkin into a hard little ball.
As the song ended, Daddy and Beverly came toward us through the crowd. When they got to our table, Beverly surveyed the wreckage and said, “You obviously enjoyed your meal.”
Zane stood and gathered up our trash. “I’ve never been too keen on mudbugs, to tell you the truth. The corn was good, though. Excuse me.”
He started toward the trash bins behind the stage. I grabbed our empty paper cups and followed him. Daddy called, “Get a move on, you two. It’s time to go.”
All the way to the car Beverly chattered about how great the cotton candy tasted, how pretty the silver jewelry was, and how much she enjoyed the zydeco band. We got in, and Daddy started the engine. We drove back toward the hotel in town where Mama was holding her Bee Beautiful meetings and got there right on time. I went to the bathroom in the lobby to fix my hair and calm my nerves. Mama had been gone more than three months, and though she called home every chance she got, she never talked for very long. She was always rushing to a meeting or getting ready to shoot a television commercial or racing for an airport somewhere.
I wanted my mother back. As close as Zane and I were, there are some things a fourteen-year-old girl just cannot share with a boy. I needed a woman to talk to. Lauren was gone, and e-mails just weren’t the same. And Shyla was usually too busy to listen. Tears started behind my eyes, but I willed them away. Something stronger than tears was needed to win my mother back, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what would make her give up her glamorous life and come home to
Eden.
I smoothed on some Bee Beautiful lip gloss and ran a comb through my hair, which could have used some of Mama’s new Bee-have! conditioner, but there was nothing I could do about it. I took a couple of deep breaths and opened the door.
Zane, Daddy, and Beverly were standing at the far end of the lobby. Beverly untied her scarf and shook out her hair. Daddy smiled at me and said, “You look beautiful, sunshine.”
Then the elevator dinged, the doors opened, and out came Mama with two other women. They were dressed alike in pastel suits with diamond bees on the lapels. The other women smiled at me as they headed for the reception area, but all I could see was Mama. She was thinner, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but she was dressed as beautifully as ever, in a moss green suit and a pair of high heels that looked like they cost as much as a Volkswagen. Her cell phone and day planner peeked from the top of her briefcase. She was carrying a huge white shopping bag with gold writing on it.
She crossed the lobby at a fast clip, her heels clicking on the marble floor. When she got to us, she dropped everything, kissed Daddy, and opened her arms wide to Zane and me. “My darlings!”
Like we were the ones who had left, instead of the other way around.
“How are you?” Mama asked. “My heavens, Zane, I swear you have grown a foot taller.” She hugged us hard, then stepped back, holding us at arm’s length. “Oh, if only Shyla were here, this would be just perfect. I have missed you all like crazy.”
But not enough to come back, I thought.
Then we were all talking at once, but Mama’s eyes kept darting from us to the two Bee Beautiful ladies waiting at the reception desk, and I realized that even as she was asking about Zane’s swim meets and how my summer was going and if I’d heard from Lauren since the move, she couldn’t wait to get this reunion over with and go back to her new life.
Finally, when the initial excitement had died down, Daddy broke into the conversation and introduced Beverly. He told Mama that Beverly was a writer and that she had bought Mrs. Archer’s house.
“Daddy invited Beverly to come with us,” I said.
“Did he?” Mama glanced at Daddy and then smiled her professional Bee Beautiful smile. “Mrs. Grace, it’s a delight to meet you. Tell me, what does your husband do?”
“I’m a widow,” Beverly said. “For two years now.”
“I’m sorry.” Mama acted cool as a cucumber, but I could see that the idea of Daddy’s living next door to a beautiful widow had shaken her up some, so I decided to make her worry a little more.
“Beverly had breakfast at our house last week, and she gave me this necklace.” I fished it from beneath my T-shirt. “It’s from Tiffany’s. It’s real gold.”
For a moment my mother lost the power of speech. She looked at Beverly, then back to me, and finally said, “Well, Phoebe, that’s very nice. Although it’s much too insubstantial for a girl of your height. Tall girls should wear heavier pieces. Pieces with presence.”
It was like getting slapped. My eyes swam with tears.
Daddy said, “For Pete’s sake, Beth. She’s just a teenager.”
Zane squeezed my shoulder. “I think it looks great on her,” he said.
“Well,” Mama allowed, “I suppose you can get away with it while you’re young.”
Then she grabbed the shopping bag off the floor and said, “I brought you something from California.”
She handed Zane and me a couple of boxes, and we opened them. I got a pair of L.A. Girl jeans, a pink tank top, and a couple of CDs. Zane got a sweater and a very expensive book that had been on his Christmas list for two years running.
Mama watched us open the boxes, a smile playing on her perfectly painted Bee Beautiful lips. It was obvious she’d taken time to pick out things she knew we’d like, but an entire ton of loot couldn’t fill the empty space her leaving had made in our lives. She didn’t see that all the presents in the world couldn’t make up for what we’d lost.
“Thanks, Mama.” I put on my happy face, but I couldn’t help wondering why I wasn’t good enough for her to stick around.
“Yeah,” Zane said. “I’ve wanted this book forever.”
“It was nothing.” Mama flapped her hand like she was swatting away a fly and said to Daddy, “Did I tell you I made number one in sales in the region? Nearly a million dollars’ worth of Bee Beautiful products sold in this quarter alone!”
“Congratulations,” Daddy said. “It’s everything you wanted.”
“Not quite,” Mama said. “I’ve got my sights set now on being number one nationwide. And it never could have happened if I’d stayed in Eden.” She smiled at me then. “There’s not enough of a customer base.”
One of the women at the desk called, “Beth, honey? We need to get going, or else we’ll miss the shuttle to the airport.”
Mama glanced at her watch. “Goodness, look at the time!”
She kissed Daddy’s cheek. “Sumner. Thanks for bringing the children. You take care of yourself, you hear?”
“You too, Beth.” Daddy caught her wrists in his big hands. “We miss you.”
They stood there looking into each other’s eyes, and my breath caught. I let myself hope she might come home with us, but then the two Bee Beautiful ladies hurried past us, dragging a ton of baggage and three huge sample cases. “Hurry, Beth!” one of them said. “We’ve got your luggage. We’ll meet you in the van.”
My heart started pounding. Mama’s words had hurt me, but not nearly as much as her leaving would. I opened my tote and handed her the poetry book. “I brought a present for you, too. Happy birthday, Mama. In case I don’t see you in September.”
She ran her fingers over the lacy pink paper I’d bought at the card store in the mall. “Oh, Phoebe, this is terribly sweet, but I don’t know where I’d put it. My bags are so full now I’ll have to pay extra at the airport.” She handed it back to me. “You hang on to it for me, okay?”
She kissed Zane, then pulled me close. But I didn’t hug back. I let my arms dangle at my sides, as if I were a giant Raggedy Ann.
“You be good,” Mama said. “And when you talk to Shyla, tell her I love her.”
Tell her yourself, I thought. I glanced at Zane, and I could see that he was thinking the exact same thing.
Beverly said, “It was lovely meeting you, Beth. I can’t tell you how much I admire you.”
Mama beamed. “You do?”
“Oh, yes. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to spend so much time away from home. You’re to be congratulated for having so neatly divided your time between your career and your family.” Beverly made a chopping motion with her hands like she was cutting up a cabbage. “I’m sure I couldn’t do it.”
For a minute Mama looked confused, trying to figure out whether Beverly was being serious. Then she smiled and said, “Why, thank you, Beverly.”
The hotel van pulled up at the entrance, and the driver honked the horn. Mama scooped her briefcase off the floor and ran for the door. “Bye, now!”
We stood there watching until the glass doors had slid shut behind her and the van had pulled away.
“Well,” Daddy said, “it sure was nice seeing her, huh?”
“It sucked,” Zane muttered.
“Big time,” I said.
Daddy put his arm around me. “Come on, Feebs. It’s a long drive back to Eden, and we’re all hungry. Once you’ve eaten something, you’ll feel better.”
My stomach was so knotted that the thought of more food made me gag, but I couldn’t blame Daddy for suggesting dinner as the antidote to my hurt feelings. He couldn’t help it. He’d been raised in South Carolina by his aunt Reba, one of a long line of Southern women who believed that any situation in life, no matter how dire, could be greatly improved upon by the consumption of a good meal and a strong cup of coffee.
Beverly hooked her arm through mine. “I don’t know about you, but a couple of scoops of Rocky Road in a waffle cone always makes me feel better.”
We left the hotel and put our presents into the trunk of Beverly’s car. Twenty minutes later we pulled into Peg-Leg Brown’s, a seafood restaurant with a statue of a one-legged pirate out front. We ordered shrimp, Caesar salads, and baked potatoes with the works. Daddy and Beverly tried to keep the conversation going, but Zane and I didn’t feel much like talking, and they finally left us alone and concentrated on their food.
When we’d finished, Beverly opened her bag and took out her credit card just as Daddy reached for his wallet. She put a hand on his arm. “Sumner. This is my treat, now, and no arguments, please. You’ve been very kind to me, and I want to reciprocate.”
“It’s not necessary,” Daddy said.
“But I want to.”
Beverly signaled the waitress and handed over her card. After she signed the bill, Daddy and Zane went to get the car, and Beverly and I went to the ladies’ room. As we left the restaurant, Beverly said, “Phoebe? I’m sorry about what happened today. I hope you know it was me your mother was trying to hurt with her comments about your necklace.”
“Why would she want to hurt you? She doesn’t even know you.”
“I’m a widow living next door to her husband and children. That’s all she needs to know in order to feel threatened.” Our footsteps crunched on the gravel parking lot. Beverly said, “Anyone can see that your mother loves you deeply. But she loves her work, too. She wants to be in two places at once, and it makes her angry that she’s forced to choose.”
We waited as an SUV backed slowly out of a parking space. “I shouldn’t have made that remark about dividing her time,” Beverly continued. “It was a cheap shot, and I’m sorry now that I said it, but I could see that you were hurt. I felt the whole thing was my fault and I owed it to you to even the score.”
Even though I was halfway mad at Mama right then, even though her criticism and her rejection of my present had cut me to the quick, I couldn’t side with Beverly against her. Still, I could see that Beverly was trying to make me feel better. “Thanks,” I muttered just as Daddy and Zane came zooming around the corner and slopped in front of us.