Gone South

by Meg Moseley

  “It’s probably about the money. He buys things he knows he can sell at a good profit.”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, I know that’s what he usually does, but I think he’s like in love with this car even if it’s all out of date and stupid looking.”

  “Out of date? Stupid looking?” Calv faked a stern look, but she could tell he was about to bust out laughing. “This car’s a classic, and it ain’t stupid.”

  Yes it was, compared to the Corvette’s pale blue paint and shiny chrome, not to mention the way it could move. She shut her eyes and tried to bring back one of those Sunday drives. Her hands on the wheel, her foot on the gas. Her grandpa in the passenger seat, laughing his head off and calling her Melanie Andretti. Once he’d explained who the Andrettis were, she’d thought it was a pretty cool compliment.

  “Remember,” Calv said, “don’t say nothin’ bad about the car when ol’ George is around. You don’t like it, you don’t have to talk about it.”

  She nodded. She didn’t want to hurt George’s feelings. “The car’s okay, really. I bet it’s fast.”

  “You have no idea, young lady.” Calv frowned at her. “But you’d better not get any notions about taking an unauthorized test drive.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t have any designs on it.” Somebody might, though, and it would be safer in a garage with no windows, like her dad’s. “Matter of fact, I have an idea for keeping it safe.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Cover the windows,” she said. “The garage windows, I mean. Tape newspaper over them or something.”

  Calv looked back and forth from the windows on one wall to the windows on the other. “Why? I like the light.”

  “But car thieves could look in and see the car and want it. That’s what I think.”

  “You think funny, sometimes. Nobody’s gonna poke around back here. It’s too far from the street, and there are all those trees and bushes between. I bet half the folks in town don’t know this garage is even here.”

  “That’s good.” Daisy was tangled up in her leash, so Mel untangled her and gave her a hug. “It’s awful to lose something that means a lot to you.”

  “Careful with Houdini there,” Calv said. “She’ll run off if you give her half a chance.”

  “No, she only runs away from other places. Once she’s here, at this house, it’s where she wants to stay.” Mel pulled Daisy into her lap. “Do you think it’s because she lived here when she was a puppy?”

  “Maybe, but I’m no expert on dogs. I don’t even like dogs, especially when they have issues.”

  Mel leaned over Daisy, cuddling her. “I know,” she whispered in the dog’s ear. “Nobody likes me either. Because I have issues.”

  Daisy let out a happy whimper and relaxed, like she’d decided to stay in Mel’s lap forever. Ruffling the curly white fur with her fingers, Mel looked around the garage. It was way bigger than most garages, but really old. More like a barn than a garage, it didn’t have a security system.

  A barn! Mel held her breath, happy with her new idea. The barn she and Hayley had explored years ago when they were looking for a new hangout. It was out past the old vacant bank, on the outskirts of town.

  She stood up, holding Daisy. “Can I take her for a walk? If she runs away, she’ll head straight back here, so I can’t lose her.”

  Calv laughed. “Sure, take her for a walk. I don’t think George would mind. Keep a good grip on the leash, though.”

  “Okay. I’ll take her down Main Street a ways. See you in a while.”

  Mel carried the dog all the way to the sidewalk and set her down. “Heel,” she said, moving forward, but the leash went tight because Daisy wasn’t moving.

  “Come on, Daisy, let’s go.” She tugged at the leash. “Heel.”

  Daisy turned toward the house and gave a sad little moan, but she started walking in the right direction, her head low.

  “Good dog! Good girl, Daisy. I’ll carry you if you get tired.”

  Walking down the sidewalk, smelling spring in the air, Mel could almost pretend everything was going to be fine. She’d find a job somewhere, and she’d find a permanent place to live. Someday, she would have her own dog. It wasn’t the kind of goal the school counselors had always harped on, but it seemed reasonable.

  Reaching Main, Mel turned to the right. Away from downtown and toward that old barn. If it was still abandoned and if it wasn’t falling down, it would be perfect.

  Having showered and dressed, Tish checked the time and let out a sigh of relief. Too late to go to church. It was one thing to get the cold shoulder at the bank or the store, but she couldn’t handle the idea of being excluded at church too, especially now that she’d seen some of Nathan and Letitia’s good qualities revealed in the letters.

  She sat at her computer desk to return the letters to the safety of their acid-free paper wrap. She was still groggy from her late night. It wasn’t just physical tiredness; it was emotional exhaustion too. She’d scanned every letter into her computer and enlarged each one for easier reading, but there was something endearingly human about the originals, passed down to a generation that rarely corresponded with pen and ink. Tish couldn’t recall the last time she’d written an actual letter, by hand. It was becoming a lost art.

  Most of the letters had been written by Letitia to her mother, Ann Lattimore. A few were addressed to Letitia, from people Tish had never heard of, and then there was the love letter from Nathan to Letitia before their marriage. He’d had a warm and tender way with words. The lines she’d written about him, decades later, had shown her affection for him too.

  In spite of an age difference of nearly twenty years, Nathan and Letitia had remained devoted to each other—at least on paper—until the end of his life. They’d loved their children too. It was hard to reconcile that devotion with the account in the book, but Tish had to admit that it was possible for a man to be a cheat and a liar who happened to love his wife and children.

  Gently, she picked up a fragile sheet of paper, a letter that Letitia had written shortly before she’d moved back to Ohio. Dearest Mother, may God grant us grace to endure. I have grievous news again for … The next word was smudged and paled by an irregular patch that looked suspiciously like a splash of water. A teardrop, maybe, spilled from Letitia’s eyes as she wrote the words—or from her mother’s eyes when she opened the letter in Ohio.

  Tish placed a fingertip on the tiny water stain, wondering who had dried Letitia’s tears once Nathan was gone. Her news had been grievous indeed. The rest of the letter gave the details. Only weeks after losing her husband, Letitia had lost her daughter too. Malaria.

  If only the letters had also included some evidence to contradict what that old book presented as fact. But there were only twenty-three letters that spanned more than two decades, and none of them referred to the construction of the house. Or where and how Nathan had obtained the beautiful mantel and hearth.

  Resigned to the fact that the story would always have large gaps, Tish placed all the letters in the manila envelope and slid it into her desk drawer.

  After scanning the letters, she’d saved the files to her computer and e-mailed them to herself for safekeeping. Even if the house went up in smoke someday, she could retrieve the files from her e-mail account or from her online backup service. She could share them with other people too—not that she knew anyone who would be particularly interested.

  She sat up straight, enlivened by a new idea. She could take copies of the letters to Marian at the bank so she could see Nathan and Letitia’s devotion to each other and to their children. Whatever they’d done, the McCombs hadn’t been monsters. The “unchaste” bit in Miss Eliza Clark’s book might have been a big fat lie—and where there was one lie, there were usually others.

  Sitting on the front steps, nearly finished with a cigarette, Mel wished she had a paying job. Smoking was an expensive habit, but it calmed her down. And she needed that right now since she was about to put
her plan into action.

  The abandoned barn had been perfect for her rehearsal. She’d loved the birds swooping in and out, and the soft smell of dried grass and the coziness of a secret hiding place. Daisy had been the perfect listener, perking her ears and making a hundred different expressions, which had to be hard to do with a fur-covered face.

  But now it was time for Mel’s real audience. She’d never prayed so much in her life. She wasn’t exactly comfortable talking to God, but she sure couldn’t share her plans with anybody else, and she figured He already knew anyway, so it wouldn’t do any good to try to fake Him out.

  He’d answered the first part of her prayer. Maybe He liked her plan. She had some time alone because George had gone somewhere after church, taking Daisy with him, and then Tish had gone off to run errands.

  Mel had to act now, while Stu and Janice and the boys were still staying at the house. It would only work when Nicky was there.

  Mel stood up. If she had some money, she’d buy a disposable cell phone. But she’d have to borrow one for a minute or two. Less, if the wrong person answered. If it wasn’t Nicky, she would hang up.

  She’d practiced until she’d nailed it, but even if he thought she was the real deal, what if he didn’t know the code?

  “Please, God, make it work,” she whispered. “All I need now is a phone.”

  Everything else was perfect. Her ex-dad and Stu spent Sunday afternoons at the dealership doing paperwork, and her ex-mom always did her Sunday shopping thing at the mall. Maybe Janice went with her, dragging the boys along, or maybe they’d stayed home. Janice wouldn’t pick up the phone, but if Nicky still pounced on it every time it rang …

  But what if they didn’t have the land line anymore?

  Time to find out. Mel took one last drag on her cigarette and tossed the butt on the lawn. She smashed it with her shoe and kicked it under a bush.

  She tilted her face toward the sky. “God, here goes. Make Calv help me. Please. Without knowing he’s helping me. I mean, without knowing why. You know what I’m trying to say, God?”

  She walked around the house and headed toward the garage, ever so slowly so she wouldn’t look like she was up to something. Calv had pulled the Chevelle into the sunshine, and he was tinkering on the engine.

  She strolled up to him, casual as could be. “Hey again, Calv.”

  “Hey again, Miss Mel.”

  “Still workin’ on that thing? I thought it had a new engine.”

  “That don’t necessarily mean it’s fit to drive. George is bound and determined to take it to a car show in a few weeks. Halfway across Alabama.” He leaned farther over the engine and tugged on a fat black hose.

  “You’re not going with him? To keep it running?”

  “Nope. A good friend of mine is getting married in Pensacola that weekend, so that’s where I’ll be.”

  Mel wrinkled her nose at the idea of someone as old as Calv getting married. “Why do you have so much spare time? I mean, why don’t you have a real job?”

  “I’m what they call a shade-tree mechanic. I’m my own boss.”

  “Oh. That must be nice.”

  “It’s not. I’ve had a hard time finding what you call ‘a real job’ because I used to abuse certain substances. I recommend that you avoid that path, Miss Mel. It’s not a good one.”

  She frowned, trying to put it together. She knew he’d had a drinking problem when she was a little kid, but it didn’t seem fair that he still couldn’t get a real job when he’d been sober for so long.

  “Yes sir,” she said. “I’ll remember that.”

  “See that you do. It wasn’t just jobs that I lost,” he said. “I lost my marriage, and I nearly lost my sister and my nephew. I loved them, but I loved my booze more until the good Lord got ahold of me.”

  Mel nodded and asked the good Lord to make Calv stop preaching. Just like that, he shut up. She smiled. She was halfway starting to believe that God heard her prayers.

  She watched Calv work a little longer, then decided to go for it. “May I borrow your phone, please?”

  He straightened up to squint at her. “Why?”

  “Tish isn’t home so I can’t borrow hers. Come on, Calv. I only want to call my mom and dad’s house.” She didn’t dare say “ex” to Calv.

  “Well, all right then.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  “Thank you. Do you mind if I walk across the yard so I’ll have a little privacy? Because I’ve hardly talked to her in a couple of years.”

  “Go ahead, but don’t hog my phone too long. And don’t go calling all your friends too.”

  “I’m only calling my folks’ house. That’s all. I promise.” It was the absolute truth.

  “All right, but can I tell you something first?”

  “Sure.” Her face felt hot. Afraid he was onto her, she stared at the grass and twisted one foot around and around in it.

  “I don’t like that you’re tryin’ to be sneaky,” he said. “Sneaky sins are the worst.”

  Was that all? He must have smelled the smoke on her.

  She met his eyes. “I’m not sneaking. Tish knows I smoke. She just won’t let me smoke in the house, that’s all.”

  Calv crinkled up his eyes like he was about to start laughing. “Well, if you gotta sin, sin boldly, but don’t try to pull the wool over anybody’s eyes. You understand?”

  “I think so. God knows everything anyway, right? So we can’t fool Him.”

  “Something like that, but I suspect we could both use a little more training in theological matters.” He scratched his head. “When did you start smoking?”

  She tried to remember. “I’m not sure. Sometime after Grandpa John died.”

  “Well, at least you spared him that.” Calv went back to working on the car. “Get on with your call, now, and be sweet to your mama. I’d give you some better advice if I had any, but I don’t.”

  “Yes sir. Thank you.”

  She walked all the way to the back steps, where she sat down and tried to think. She’d have to keep it short so she wouldn’t have time to blow it. This wasn’t another rehearsal. This was the real thing.

  She played with the phone for a minute, remembering what it was like to be able to call or text any time. Someday, she’d have a phone again.

  Then she said another prayer and made the call with shaky fingers. If they didn’t have the land line anymore, all her practice was for nothing.

  But the phone didn’t make that annoying “this number is out of service” noise. It rang. And it rang again. And someone answered.

  “Hello?”

  It wasn’t—yes it was. It was Nicky, but he sounded older now. She’d missed two years of his life.

  Now she had stage fright again, like in kindergarten. She almost forgot her lines, but they came back to her just in time.

  “Nicky? Do me a favor, baby.” She breathed fast and shallow, keeping her voice soft. “Remind me of the security code.”

  He laughed the raspy little laugh that always made him sound like an evil genius. “Come on, Grandma. Are you serious? Why don’t you ask Grandpa? Wait! If you’re out there trying to get in, why don’t you get out of your car and ring the doorbell?”

  She was so stupid. Now he would look out the window, but his grandma’s car wouldn’t be in the driveway. And that was only one of the big holes in her plan.

  She smiled, hoping a phony smile would help her stay in character. “It’s easier to call you, sweetheart.”

  He let out a big, dramatic sigh. “Oh, all right. It’s 3808.”

  “Oh, sure. Why can’t I remember that?” Her brain was spinning with lame explanations. Now he would expect the garage door to go up. He would expect his grandma’s car to pull in. She hadn’t thought it through.

  “Thanks, Nicky,” she said. “You’re a wonderful grandson.”

  “Yeah, I know I am.” He snickered. “I’m a wonderful nephew too. Nice try, Aunt Mel, but I know it’s you.
”

  The gasp was halfway out her mouth before she could stop it. She held her breath and waited.

  “As soon as you called me ‘Nicky,’ I knew,” he said. “Grandma never calls me that anymore. She calls me Nick. Everybody does.”

  Mel let out her breath. “You brat. You were just playing me.”

  “You were playing me. What do you want?”

  She could feel her heart beating fast. “Who’s there? Is anybody listening?”

  “No. Grandma’s at the mall. Mom’s online, looking at kitchen stuff. It’s all she ever does. Dad and Grandpa are at work, and Jamie’s doing tomorrow’s homework.”

  “No way. Jamie’s not old enough for homework.”

  “Yes he is. But what do you want?”

  “Nicky—I mean Nick—I’m really sorry. I only wanted to trick you. I didn’t want to drag you into it. But I’m not doing anything wrong, really. I just need to get my own stuff out of my own room.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Jeans and shirts. Shoes. That’s all I want. Please don’t tell them you gave me the code. They’ll say I’m corrupting you. I don’t want to corrupt you. I only want what’s mine.”

  “You’d better not take much, then, or they’ll notice.”

  “You’re too smart for your own good.”

  That was what they’d always said about her, even when she was stupid in other ways, like tests and grades. But Nicky was nothing but smart.

  “When are you gonna try it?” he asked.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  He giggled, sounding like the little kid she remembered. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Don’t even try to. Please. I don’t want you to be my—my accomplice. If I get in trouble, I deserve it. But you don’t.”

  “I won’t tell anybody.” Now he sounded solemn. Older than ten. “I promise. Because I don’t think they’re treating you right.”

  “They’re not.” A lump rose in her throat. “If they won’t help me, I’ll have to help myself.”

  “Yeah. Good luck, Aunt Mel. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. I love you, Nicky.”