Chocolate-Covered Baloney

by KD McCrite

  Isabel froze stiff, eyeballing Daisy like she thought that good old dog might bury her in the backyard, then dig her up later to eat with biscuits and gravy.

  “What’s goin’ on?” I asked.

  “Shh! I’ll tell you.” She kept her eye on Daisy as she talked. “Lily and I think Grace is upset because no one has mentioned her birthday.”

  “Didn’t anybody even say ‘Happy Birthday,’ or sing to her, or anything? That’s mean!”

  “Shh! Keep your voice down. We aren’t trying to be mean. We really want to surprise her. The thing is, she’s been over here almost all day. She’d leave, and we’d barely start getting things ready, and she’d return. Then we’d rush around, hiding everything. Your mother and I are simply at our wits’ ends trying to get her out of the house long enough for us to get anything done. Ian ran into town and picked up the cake this morning. It’s still at our house because Grace simply must not see it yet.”

  Knowing my grandma had not even been wished a happy birthday the whole entire day stuck in my mind like a cocklebur. Someone could’ve at least said, “You’re looking younger every year,” or “Many happy returns.”

  “Poor Grandma!” I whisper-shouted, and Isabel hushed me again.

  “Listen, April, you absolutely must help us. You must get her out of the house and keep her out of the house.”

  “For how long?” I gave her the stink-eye because I did not want to trick my grandmother who trusted me.

  “Until the party.”

  “But that’s not until seven o’clock! How am I supposed to keep her away for two whole hours when she wants to be here?”

  Isabel huffed. “April, you always have the best ideas of anyone, and I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with something. So you must do it, ASAP!”

  Right about then Daisy got to her feet, shook off the sleep from her big, white body, then, waving her fluffy tail, ambled over to us. She butted her head against my thigh, begging to be petted, and that silly Isabel gave a little squeal, rearing back in full alarm.

  “Oh, that vicious creature! Why do you people insist on keeping him?”

  “Oh, good grief!” I hollered at that woman as I stroked Daisy’s big, white head and rubbed her ears. “Daisy doesn’t even hardly have any teeth! She’s a million years old.”

  “What on earth is going on in here?” Grandma said, coming onto the service porch. “What’re you girls looking for?”

  Isabel’s eyes got big, and she looked caught, but I turned right quick and pulled the box of washing powder off the shelf and handed it to her.

  “And if you need the bleach, it’s up there on that shelf.” I told her, pointing to a shelf above the dryer.

  Isabel gave me a big, grateful smile.

  “Thank you, darling. I’ll run into town tomorrow and get more detergent.”

  “Mercy! You doing the wash tonight, Isabel?” Grandma asked.

  “Oh, Grace,” Isabel said with what you might call a brittle laugh, “if I don’t, Ian will have to wear the same shirt two days in a row.”

  “Oh my! Honey, I remember how hard it was, adjusting my housework around a work schedule when Voyne and I were young marrieds. ’Course, I didn’t work very long in town. There was way too much to do on this farm, and his mother was a workhorse. I felt plumb lazy alongside her.” She followed Isabel from the service porch and into the kitchen. I’m not sure what Mama thought when she saw Isabel carting out her big box of Tide and jug of Purex, but she never said a word.

  When Grandma sighed big and loud and plunked herself down at the table, Isabel looked over Grandma’s head and gave me the pleadingest look you can possibly imagine. Well, I could not let my grandma, who had gone all day long without a birthday wish, go without her party to make up for it, so I put my brain in gear.

  “Grandma, you still got that video from Mack’s Video Rental in Cedar Ridge?”

  “You mean that oldie, the one with Katharine Hepburn?”

  “Is that the one about the boat going down the river that we watched the other day?”

  “The African Queen. Honey, that was a couple of weeks ago, and I already took it back. Why?”

  “’Cause I was hoping we could go over to your house where it’s nice and quiet and watch it again. You got any other videos you rented?”

  “Not right now, but I can get something when I go after groceries on Tuesday. Mack runs a senior discount rental on Tuesdays. What would you like to see? He’s starting to stock some good classics.”

  “Umm, I’m not sure what I’d like to see. Maybe we could go look at them now and I could pick out something.”

  Grandma just frowned and shook her head. “Not tonight.”

  I thought hard and fast for another way to get her out of our house. Oh boy. I came up with something that I did not want to do, not in a million years, but sometimes you just have to do what has to be done.

  “Oh goodness!” I hollered suddenly, slapping my own personal forehead like I was a big dummy. “I need notebook paper.” Which was true enough. I always need notebook paper. It’s one of the hazards of going to school.

  “Already?” Mama said, not looking up at me as she was digging in the cabinet, looking for who knows what. She pulled out two cans of tuna and a big can of crushed pineapple. I think she was desperately trying to make Grandma think she was getting ready to make supper. Tuna and crushed pineapple? Ick. “I’ll run you into town tomorrow.”

  Mama obviously did not understand I was trying to Save the Situation. Isabel cleared her throat real loud and met Mama’s eyes. Lucky for us, Grandma picked up that can of crushed pineapple and was studying the label.

  “Oh dear,” said Isabel. “You’re out of paper? My goodness, that will never do! There are all those questions for my class you’re supposed to copy and answer. You should get started tonight, but how can you if you have no paper?”

  I gulped and said, “Grandma, would you please run me into town right now so I can buy some notebook paper? I got homework for Isabel’s class, and I want to start writing stories for Mrs. Scrivner’s class, and I got a really good one in my brain that I don’t want to lose, and I just can’t run out of paper!”

  Grandma gave me a sharp look like maybe she suspected something, but I don’t think she suspected a surprise birthday party. I think she suspected I had completely lost my mind.

  She shot a look at the yellow clock on the wall.

  “Law! It’s 5:20, and the variety store is closed by now. But the pharmacy stays open till six, and I suspect Rob keeps notebook paper.”

  Rob Estes owns Estes Drugstore, but his store is more than just a drugstore. He carries everything from sour gumballs to grapefruit-flavored Squirt soda to pencil erasers to eyelash curlers. I figured he had notebook paper, too.

  “You run upstairs, brush your hair, and wash your hands,” Grandma said, “and I’ll go get the car.” She shrugged on her coat. “Don’t dillydally, neither.”

  And out she went.

  “My goodness!” Mama said. “April Grace, thank you for coming up with a good reason to go to town. And you must keep her occupied as long as possible, so whatever you do, don’t come straight home from the store.” She turned to Isabel. “Can we get it all done in less than an hour and a half?”

  “We have to, Lily! We don’t have a choice.” Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she tapped her head. “And I know how to do it.”

  Off she trotted, out of the kitchen, and then we heard the clickety-click of her high heels on the stairs.

  “If she thinks she’s gonna get Myra Sue to do any work, she’s in for a big surprise,” I declared.

  “We’ll see,” Mama said. “Now, get some money from my wallet to pay for your notebook paper.”

  As soon as I was all brushed and washed, I went into my bedroom and picked up my Bible. I opened it right up to the Lord’s Prayer, read that, and then I read the Twenty-Third Psalm, then I read the Lord’s Prayer again. And then I reread the part in the psalm about th
e valley of the shadow of death and how God walks with us everywhere, and I figured, scared as I was, God would be with me in that white Corolla while Grandma was at the wheel. I was still scared, but I felt better. Then I went downstairs, got two dollars from Mama’s purse, and went outside to where Grandma had just pulled up into the driveway.

  I got in her car and kept thinking the Lord’s Prayer and the Twenty-Third Psalm.

  You know what Grandma said to me as she backed out of our driveway and onto the road? Well, I’ll tell you. She said, “I sure do hope the deer stay in the woods tonight and stay off the highway. I can’t see a blessed thing after dark.”

  “Lead us not into temptation through the valley of the shadow of death!” I hollered, without even realizing I said it.

  “Mercy me, child,” Grandma said mildly, driving along Rough Creek Road like she didn’t mind the rocks, the ruts, the holes, and the dark. “You have done got your Bible verses whopperjawed.”

  I gripped the edge of the seat with both hands so tight, it would probably take the jaws of life to extract my fingernails from the vinyl.

  “Yes’m,” I said, swallowing hard. “And I’ll watch for deer.”

  The Two Sides to Fooling Grandma

  As if I didn’t have enough to fret about on that ride into town, a new thought popped up out of nowhere and scared me.

  You know my grandma is old. I’m not sure how old, but underneath that tawny-colored hair, it’s gray. And down below the makeup and lipstick and eye goop, she has wrinkles. She has always been in good health, and I’ve never known her to be sick with anything but a cold or the stomach flu or something like that. But here’s what worried me. With Grandma being old, I wondered how smart it was for everyone to jump out and holler, “Surprise!” when we got back. At least I figured that’s what would happen. I’ve never been to a surprise party, my own personal self, but in the ones I’ve seen on TV and in the movies, that’s what they do. What if it surprised her so bad it gave her a heart attack right there at her very own party?

  I prayed the Lord’s Prayer again and silently added, “Please don’t let everyone scare Grandma to death!”

  I watched for deer on the highway and beside the highway, and I gritted my teeth when Grandma ran off the side of the road every time an oncoming car passed us, and I nearly made myself sick worrying about her having a heart attack at the party. And I also tried to figure out a way to make her stay in town longer than necessary when every blessed business in all of Cedar Ridge closed at 6:00 p.m., if not before.

  We pulled up to Estes Drugstore on the square. It was the only business that had all the lights on.

  Grandma squinted at her watch in the glow of the streetlight coming through the windshield.

  “We got here in good time. Fifteen minutes yet. Why, we’ll be home before you know it!”

  The little bell above the door jingled as we walked in. Estes Drugstore is a nice, big store, with plenty of light so you can see everything on the shelves real good. It smells mostly like medicine, and I reckon since it’s a drugstore, that’s what it ought to smell like. There was music playing, too, the kind of faraway-sounding music that you never notice unless there is no one in the store but you and the clerks. Well, that night it was just Grandma, me, Judy Lawrence at the cash register, and Rob Estes, who is retired from the store, but I think he’s there just about every day, anyhow. At least that’s what Grandma said one time.

  When we walked in, he stood near the front counter, straightening a display of magazines. He was all slicked up, too, in black slacks and a charcoal-gray jacket and a white shirt with a silvery satin tie. I betcha he’d just polished up his spiffy rimless glasses, too. Rob is tall and slim, with black-andgray hair. Every time I see him, he looks real nice, but that night he looked extra slick. That’s because he was going to Grandma’s birthday party. And you know what? Ernie Beason and Reverend Jordan had been invited, too. I sure hoped we did not have an Awkward Situation like we did at the St. Jameses’ housewarming party when Rob and Ernie both went off and left Grandma without a ride home. And that just goes to prove my theory: no one Grandma’s age should have multiple boyfriends.

  When Rob spotted us, his eyes kinda bugged out, but he put ’em back in right quick. I knew he wondered why we were there at that time of day when we should’ve been home getting ready to surprise Grandma. But he did not say a word about it. Instead, he approached us, smiling.

  “Well, ladies!” he said. “What brings the two of you off the farm and into the city at this time of day?”

  Then he reached over to the candy display, picked up a couple of Mint Dreams, and handed them to me with a grin.

  “Thank you, sir!” I breathed gratefully, forgetting for a moment my purpose in being in his store at almost closing time.

  “April, run and get your notebook paper,” Grandma said, wandering over to the perfume counter. “We don’t want to keep these hard-working folks waiting when they want to go home and get some supper.” She sniffed a couple of testers, then squirted her wrists.

  “You know where the paper is, Miss April?” Rob asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Now, I hated to keep those hard-working folks from their supper, also, but I had to keep Grandma away from the house as long as I possibly could. From the look in Rob’s eye, and his little nod, I think he fully understood my purpose.

  The paper and pens and that sort of thing are on the far wall of the store, about halfway back, so I ambled off in that direction. And I mean ambled, like one of the cows does when Daddy is trying to get her to move on and she doesn’t want to, so she pauses and looks around and takes a step or two, then stops, noses the ground for a while, and takes another step. Sometimes you can learn good life lessons from cows.

  I stopped to look at a bottle of aspirin that was so big it held a thousand tablets. Boy howdy, whoever needed to buy that much aspirin must have had killer headaches. They probably lived with someone like Myra Sue, who is a built-in headache-making machine.

  Then I moved on a bit and paused to eyeball a display of bunion pads. I don’t know what bunions are or why they need to be padded.

  A few steps more and I stopped to look at support hose. I even took a package of ’em off the shelf to look at ’em closer. They were denser and darker than Mama’s sheer pantyhose that come out of big plastic eggs. What in the world do those stockings support, I’d like to know?

  All of a sudden that package of support hose got snatched right out of my hand, just as rude and sudden as you please.

  “April Grace Reilly, what on earth are you doing, lollygagging in the old-lady aisle?” Grandma asked, frowning like a bulldog. She put those hose back where they came from.

  “Oh. Sorry, Grandma.” I took a couple of steps and stopped. “Grandma?”

  “Yes, hon?”

  “Why are they called corns?” I pointed to the corn pads that were right next to pads for bunions.

  Her mouth dropped open, and she looked at me like she thought I’d lost my ever-lovin’ mind.

  “Why, I don’t know! For goodness’ sake, April Grace, I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth next. Now, let’s march back to the paper and get you a pack.”

  Boy, oh boy, you have to be real creative when you’re choosing notebook paper in the drugstore, because all that’s there is narrow-ruled and wide-ruled. But I tried. I picked up a package of the narrow-ruled and stared hard at it. Every single teacher had told us at the beginning of the year, “No narrow-ruled paper. Wide only!” And they said it like it was a first-class felony to use it. I wondered if I bought it, and used it, and handed in homework on it, if ole Perry Mason on TV would come to Cedar Ridge and be my attorney.

  Slow as molasses, I dragged myself up to the cash register with that paper.

  “Mercy sakes, April,” Grandma fussed at me. “Judy has done gone home, and Rob is wanting to close this place.”

  I glanced at the big, round clock on the wall above the register cou
nter. 6:05. Oh brother. I laid that paper on the counter next to the cash register and dug out those two dollars from my jacket pocket.

  Rob Estes, his own personal retired self, rang up the purchase, took my money, and gave me change. He put it in a sack, handed it over to me, and walked Grandma and me to the front door, where a key was in the lock. He turned that key and opened the door, and I started to step out into the cold night, but stopped so suddenly that Grandma ran right smack-dab into me.

  “Wait!” I hollered. I pulled the paper from the bag and squinted at it like I’d never seen it before in my whole entire life. “I can’t use this!”

  “Why?” Grandma sputtered. “Whatever do you mean, child?”

  “My teachers said no narrow-lined paper.”

  “Well then,” Rob said, just as calm and kind as if we were the first customers of the day, “come back inside and get what you need. We sure can’t have you handing in homework on paper your teachers don’t want you to use.”

  I looked up at him, and he gave me a sly wink.

  “Let’s go back to the paper and find you what you need, April Grace,” he said. To Grandma he said, “Grace, help yourself to a Mint Dream.”

  I followed him right to the paper, and he fiddled with every notebook back there, even the ones that were the kind secretaries scribble in.

  “Does she know?” he asked from the corner of his mouth, like a gangster in an old movie.

  I shook my head and replied out of the side of my mouth, “She was at the house all day and wouldn’t go home, and they didn’t get anything done, so I’m supposed to keep her busy for a while.”

  “I thought so.”

  He glanced over my head and handed me a big package of notebook paper. “Here you go, Miss April,” he said loudly.

  “Merciful goodness! Whatever are you two doing back here? Digging for treasure?” Grandma swooped down the aisle toward us.

  “April and I were looking at the fine assortment of writing goods we stock in this store.” He reached up, took a packet of mechanical pencils from a display peg, and handed them to me. “And with these you won’t have to sharpen those wooden pencils. No charge because it’s my contribution to the education of our youth.”