Stardust: A Novel

by Carla Stewart

  I knelt before her. “Bonnie, your momma is sick and has to stay in the hospital for a while. I know you’re sad and scared, but someone will come for you soon.”

  Her chin jutted up, a steely look in her eyes. “She’s not coming back.”

  “I’m sure she will, but it might take awhile.”

  Rosey put her arm around Bonnie. “My daddy left, and when he came back, they put him in a hole in the ground.”

  “Rosey, that’s not what Bonnie needs to hear.”

  Bonnie chewed on a fingernail. “My daddy got put in a box and sticked in a hole, too.”

  Avril, who had been quiet, tugged on my arm. “I want to go outside and play with Sebastian. Please.”

  I nodded. “That’s a splendid idea. Rosey, go out with your sister and remember to stay in the back.”

  After putting Bonnie in the tub, I threw on my own clothes, then ventured to the bathroom to get more information from her. “I’m sorry about your daddy. I bet your momma is thinking about him and you, too, right this minute. Was that what you were doing when your car went in the mud? Coming back from your daddy’s funeral?” It might be the Arkansas connection. Perhaps they’d once lived there and moved to Texas.

  “That was a long time ago. When I was three. I’m four and a half now.”

  “I bet your grandma and grandpa were sad, too.”

  She shrugged and clapped the bubbles between her hands. “Aunt Teddy was there. She smelled like Christmas.”

  “Was your uncle there, too?”

  Bonnie scowled. “I was sad. He gave me candy.”

  An aunt who smelled like Christmas and an uncle who was sensitive to a child would surely want to provide a home for Bonnie. “Where do your aunt and uncle live?”

  She made an O with her mouth. “O Sarks.”

  “Arkansas, then?”

  “Don’t know. Can I have a pink dress? Momma says pink is my best color.”

  “You and Avril are going to get along fine. Pink is her best color, too. And I think I know the perfect dress for you. Come on, let me shampoo your hair and get you dolled up.”

  “What’s your name, lady?”

  “I guess I’ve not told you that, have I? I’m Georgia Peyton, but you can call me Georgia.”

  “Georgie, can we go see my momma?”

  “Maybe before too long. We’ll see.”

  After combing the tangles from her hair and putting on the pink gingham dress Rosey had worn two Easters ago, I sent her out to play. As fine as Bonnie’s hair was, it would be dry after ten minutes in the sunshine.

  When I unlocked the office door, I didn’t see Peter’s Studebaker in its usual spot and trusted he’d gone to see the sheriff about locating Bonnie’s relatives. But I did see two gentlemen marching toward me. If their expressions were any indication, they were not happy patrons.

  The man with big ears stomped into the office first and shoved the key in my hand. “My family and I are leaving. I just went to the donut shop for coffee and the woman you let stay here is the talk of all downtown. She’s got the polio. I knew it all along. So help me—”

  The other gentleman, pock-faced and quite pleasant when he checked in, slapped his hand on the counter. “I want a refund. My wife is on the verge of a nervous breakdown after last night. She’s suffering with a migraine right now, and our vacation is ruined.” His nostrils flared, and I half expected smoke to pour from them.

  I pasted on a smile. “Refunds are made only if you’re unable to complete your stay. You were paid up through last night, so I think we’re even.”

  “Even, you say? I’ll get even if my wife or one of our kids comes down with polio.” He looked at the other man. “I heard the same thing you did, only over at the tire shop when I went to get a quart of oil for my car.”

  They both glared at me, waiting.

  “I’m sorry about your wife. You might take her to have her headache checked. You can find Doc Kelley’s office—”

  “We’re not spending another minute in this town.”

  “Headache is one of the symptoms of infantile paralysis. Does your wife have a stiff neck or trouble touching her chin to her chest?”

  “Excuse me. I thought you were an innkeeper, not a doctor.”

  “I’m sorry. Just trying to help. I wish both of you well. I’m distressed myself about what happened last night. I truly didn’t know. I can take your keys, and please, if you’re passing through again, I hope you’ll consider staying at the Stardust.”

  The man with the bad complexion fished the key from his pocket and handed it over. “In your dreams, lady. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get sued or shut down.”

  I watched them go, sad because they spoke the truth, but also feeling I should shake it off. There would be more customers. And hopefully no other unpleasant incidents.

  A few minutes later, Ludi trudged in, her eyes round. “I seen the child I brung over outside, but no one answers the door at the cottage. I thought it best to check with you before I barge in and see how she be.”

  “Ludi, I’m sorry. She was sicker than we thought. I had to call the ambulance.”

  Ludi fanned herself with her hand. “Lordamercy. I’m sorry I got you in this mess. What she got?”

  “Doc Kelley says it’s polio. They’ve sent her on to Tyler. I’m waiting for Peter to get back now to see if he’s found out anything more.”

  “Mercy, mercy. My man say he’ll look for her car. Can’t be far away since she walked on up to Zion. It’s a mystery, that one. And the poor child. What’s to be done with her? And us? You ever think it might be one of our own gets the crippler next?”

  Ludi gave wings to the fear riding low in my gut, but I refused to think about it. I explained that I was keeping Bonnie and told Ludi to leave Fiona’s room as it was until I heard from the sheriff. “We want to do whatever we need to meet their regulations and see if they can tell anything from the room. I have my doubts…” Cooperation might make the difference between getting a quarantine slapped on us or not.

  “What you be needing me for?”

  “Several of our tenants have already left. Scared off, I think. There’ll be their rooms to clean.” I gave her the numbers.

  “I sho’nuf never expected this.”

  “It’s all right, Ludi. We’ll make it through. We’ll keep busy and things’ll work out.”

  What worked out, though, was that the Mayhaw Messenger ran the story of Fiona Callahan on the front page of the Sunday edition, which arrived at five o’clock on Saturday afternoon. Word spread like a brush fire. All of the guests fled except for Mr. Overstreet, who dropped by on Sunday afternoon to see about his account.

  “I’ve seen a lot in the thirty years I been coming to the Stardust. Not letting this scare me away.”

  “I appreciate it. If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”

  “I like what you’ve done with the place. I was speaking with the young man from Georgia. He mentioned having a new barbecue pit out back. Maybe you and the rest of the regulars here could join me in a fish fry?”

  “Don’t you want to take home the fish you’re catching?”

  “Nobody to take ’em home to. My wife passed a couple years ago. Sure do enjoy fishing, though. Doreen used to fry up what I caught while Paddy and I told each other lies. Sure miss seeing them.”

  “Me, too. And I’d love to have a cookout. How about tomorrow evening? Will you still be here?”

  “I’ve been thinking of extending my stay another couple of weeks, maybe longer. Like I said, there’s no one to go home to.”

  It was settled. He and Peter would manage the outdoor cooking, and I would make a couple of side dishes and bring the ice cream. At least it gave me something to think of besides all the empty rooms and Fiona’s tragedy.

  I called Aunt Cora that afternoon, too, and after listening to her tell me I’d brought this on myself, I got in a word edgewise.

  “Aunt Cora, I know what you’re saying has some tr
uth in it. I accept that, so please, let it rest so I can tell you why I’m calling.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The woman with polio is the same woman O’Dell left me for. I don’t know how this bizarre incident happened, but it’s not important. What’s important is that she already had a child when she met O’Dell. I believe her husband died, possibly as a soldier. The sheriff is trying to locate that information. What I want is to find the child’s family so she can be reunited with them. I was hoping the March of Dimes might help.”

  “I suppose I could put my personal feelings aside to do that. Of course, I’m going to be busy helping to calm the fears of the people of Mayhaw. I can feel the hysteria gaining momentum, and I’m worried sick about Rosey and Avril.”

  “Thank you. I’m concerned about the girls, too, but they’ve already been exposed by being around Bonnie. We can only hope and pray Bonnie’s not a carrier or a victim herself. She’s a sweet girl, one who I’m sure a relative would welcome.”

  “So tell me what information you already have.”

  I gave her the scant details and thanked her. We both promised to call if there were any changes. There was nothing to do then but wait.

  With all the waiting I’d done over the years, nothing compared to the fear that crawled under my skin, more oppressive than the heat that shadowed our town and crept into my dreams.

  This time I wasn’t waiting for someone to return, though, but praying that polio wouldn’t.

  [ CHAPTER 26 ]

  On Monday, I needed groceries for the fish fry, so I called Sally to see if we could come by on our way to Brookshire’s.

  “I’d love to see you, Georgia, but I’ll have to pass this time. I’m on my way to the beauty shop.”

  “Okay. I just had a free moment and thought we’d get the kids together while we chatted.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m keeping my kids inside. Hud thinks it’s best now that… well, you know everyone’s worried, and you… you especially know that with what all’s happened.”

  “It’s okay, Sally, you don’t have to explain. We’ll get together some other time.” Like next winter.

  “I’m really sorry. The Magnolias think it might be best if we don’t come out and do the usual maintenance that we do on our projects. Weeding, watering, et cetera.”

  “No problem. I think I can handle it. You’ve done a lot, and I appreciate it.”

  They didn’t owe me, and yet it felt like a snub. I shook it off and hollered at the girls to get in the car.

  The aisles of Brookshire’s played out in a similar fashion. People who knew me waved, then turned their grocery buggies around like they’d forgotten something in the cheese section. I told the girls to stay close and not touch anything as I zipped along, trying to get out as soon as possible.

  Hazel Morton hollered from one end of the baking aisle. “Georgia, thought you’d like to know my grandson, Joey, got a job mowing lawns.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  She cupped her hand around her mouth like a megaphone. “Sure am glad it didn’t work out with you hiring him since you got the polio out there at the Stardust.”

  I winced and sped up so we could speak in normal tones, but she put her buggy in overdrive and whisked around the corner.

  Shake it off. I knew it wasn’t personal, that fear now pulled the strings of all our lives. I put an extra carton of Neapolitan ice cream in the cart and went to the checkout. Rosey saw a boy from her class—Stewie French. She ran over to him, but when Mrs. French saw her coming, she practically yanked Stewie’s arm out of the socket getting away.

  Rosey turned to me, tears brimming in her eyes. “Momma, why’d she do that?”

  “I think she must be in a hurry. And it’s time we got out of here, too. We don’t want our ice cream to melt.”

  The Stardust felt like a haven when we returned. I gulped in a big breath and sent the girls to find Ludi while I carried in the groceries. When Ludi came to the back door, I invited her and her children to stay for the fish fry.

  “Miz Georgie, you think that be a good idea? You know how people talk.”

  “You know, Ludi, I don’t care what people think. Y’all are like family. The girls adore Merciful, and Peter gets a kick out of Catfish and his stories. Besides, I bought your favorite Neapolitan ice cream.”

  “You shore do know my weakness. If’n it’s all right with you, I’ll go on over to Zion when I be done here and check on my momma, but we’ll be back. Yes’m. For ice cream, Ludi will come back.”

  Peter helped Mr. Overstreet with the fire while Catfish whittled on a cypress knee—a rounded piece of wood from the bayou. I’d grown up seeing the protrusions clumped at the edges of the water in proximity to the towering, moss-cloaked mother trees. When I was a child lying in bed with the windows open, I would imagine the sounds coming from the bayou were the knees telling each other stories. The smooth, twisted roots did indeed look like miniature bald-headed people, and Catfish had a real knack for carving them into lifelike creatures.

  He’d carved a couple of smaller ones, eight or ten inches long and slim enough to hold in his palm, and presented them to the girls: a frowning catfish for Avril and a warty frog with webbed toes for Bonnie. His long fingers held the small knife expertly as he shaved tiny curls away, working on a “special” one for Rosey.

  Mary Frances was in a good mood, puffing her Pall Malls, feet up on the chaise lounge we’d brought from her cottage. Her face glowed, and I was glad I’d not told her that Fiona had been O’Dell’s lover. The evening was too perfect to throw a damper on it.

  When the men declared we’d be eating soon, Ludi and I got the cold dishes from the kitchen. We spread quilts and blankets on the ground and ate out of tin pie plates, having a real picnic. Malcolm Overstreet, wearing bib overalls and Old Spice, took his plate piled high with food and sat on the grass beside Mary Frances.

  “So tell me, Mrs. Peyton… is that what you want me to call you?” The slanting afternoon sun glinted off his hair, giving it a russet look. In spite of the gray fringes, he was still a handsome man.

  “Oh, please, Malcolm, call me Mary Frances.” A bit of color flushed her cheeks, and inside I smiled as Mr. Overstreet asked her what brought her to the Stardust. I didn’t want to eavesdrop so I gathered the girls and seated them on a quilt and brought them plates.

  Peter set the cooking utensils aside and stoked the fire. “We’ll have marshmallows later if you remembered to buy some.”

  “I sure did. Come on now, get some supper.”

  “As you wish.” He sat cross-legged, Catfish on one side assuming the exact same posture as Peter and Sebastian on the other, head between his paws, tail swooshing.

  Ludi groaned and let her body down. “Y’all are going to have to get a rope and pull me if’n I cain’t get up.”

  Her children snickered, but I turned to Catfish. “I saw you whittling a while ago. How do you pick which cypress knees to carve?”

  “It’s easy. I only pick the ones what done broke off under the water. My daddy told me it’s a sin to break one off.”

  “Really? Why’s that?”

  “The knees that’s attached be connectin’ one cypress tree to the next and the next. That’s how the trees get their air and feed. Cuttin’ one off is the same as a person cuttin’ off his arm where he cain’t be feedin’ hisself.”

  “I’ve always seen the knees, but I figured they were part of the root system.”

  “My daddy say cypress knees is like people. We’s all connected someway or another. ’Cuz you be here right now don’t mean you ain’t connected to someone down the bayou.”

  Ludi nodded the whole time her son talked. She winked at me. “Catfish ain’t got much book learnin’, but he’s a smart one, that be a fact.”

  “And an artist, too, from what I’ve seen.”

  Catfish wiggled his bottom, sitting up taller. “My daddy taught me how to use a knife, but he don’t know
nothin’ about how to make somethin’ purty.”

  “You do have a gift.”

  He ran his fingers over the cypress knee in his hand, making an adjustment or two, and presented it to Rosey.

  Her eyes grew round. “What is it?”

  Catfish lowered his head, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s a mermaid.”

  She held it in her palm, her fingers tracing its delicate lines. It wasn’t a fish or another critter from the bayou, but a perfect likeness of Rosey’s face. Swirls were carved in imitation of her hair, and near the bottom, the natural twist in the wood made a perfect mermaid’s tail.

  A grin broke out on her face. “How’d you make it look like me?”

  “That’s what comes from down here.” He pointed to his chest.

  She passed it around for everyone to see. Mary Frances shook her head. “No doubt about it, Catfish is a genius.”

  Fireflies began their evening dance in the pale indigo that had fallen. I leaned back and stretched. “Anyone ready for ice cream?”

  Peter popped up. “I’ll help you.”

  After fetching the bowls and Neapolitan from the quarters, I dished it up from a small serving table and surveyed our gathering. Like the quilts where we sat, we were a patchwork bunch. Different in a dozen ways and yet connected. Like cypress knees.

  Peter went to fetch his guitar, and as he strummed, he looked at Ludi. “Sing along, okay?”

  He played a short lead-in to “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” Ludi hummed the first line, warming up, then in a rich, mellow voice sang the next line, then a verse. She motioned for us to join in the chorus. Merciful had a childlike version of her mother’s warm, clear voice when we sang “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” and then “You Are My Sunshine,” which Rosey requested. While we sang, Bonnie crawled into my lap and twirled a strand of my hair around her finger. The sweetness of the melodies didn’t stop the ache that crept into my heart for Bonnie. Although she didn’t put into words the loneliness and fear I’m sure she felt, sadness lived in her eyes. I remembered that feeling and pulled her tight against my chest, aware that Peter was now singing alone.