by Lynne Hugo
CarolSue’s eyebrows went up. “Won’t that seem . . . ?”
Gary shrugged. “Someone in the church needs . . . it’s true.” He shifted the baby to the other shoulder, though he wanted to sit and study her face. Who did she look like? Gary’s own high school graduation picture hung on the wall. She didn’t have his blue eyes, so like CarolSue’s, the same startling color of his lost boy Cody’s, that was for sure, but it was starting to look like they did have the same round shape as his. And was her dark hair going to be curly, like his, even if it wouldn’t ever be blond? Her high forehead put him in mind of his father, although maybe that was because Harold’s hairline had receded some. And then he asked himself if he was seeing what he wanted to see, or maybe what he was afraid of seeing. That was what he called the Brother Samuel question, which he’d hastened to dispatch with certainty one Sunday.
Brother Samuel wasn’t actually a Brother, either, but was the skeptical husband of Sister Paula, who’d cajoled him to the service “Just once, please!” hoping he’d see the Light and finally step into it with her. The sermon had concerned miracles, specifically Jesus walking on water. Not-Brother Samuel had—rather obnoxiously, in Gary’s private annoyed opinion—challenged him during the Praise Period about the physical possibility of that, narrowing his eyes, which were beady anyway, putting Gary in mind of his mother’s irritating chickens, and scoffing, Pfft. Mighta looked that way from a distance, you know, one of them optical delusions. People sees what they wants to see and think what they want is the way things is.
Gary had quickly assured his baptized members that Jesus had, in fact, walked on water, and reminded them it was right there in the actual Bible, so they could know it was a true fact dictated by God. What else did he—or they—have to live by?
Now he was uncomfortable, reminded of not-Brother Samuel’s words. Gary would feel better if there were something in the Bible that was smack-dab clear about whether Gracia was his or not so he wouldn’t have to worry about whether he was seeing what he wanted to, one way or the other. But if she was, how did that tell him what to do, anyway? God wanted him to lead the church, and he couldn’t be known as a fornicator and do that. He had to find the baby’s mother and give her back, pure and simple.
“Gary?”
His aunt was talking to him. Oh dear Jesus, he had no idea what she’d said to him.
“Oh. Yeah, sure, Aunt CarolSue.” He nodded, hoping he hadn’t just agreed to clean toilets.
CarolSue broke into a smile. “She sure is. Really good. It’s so easy to make her happy, you know? She only cries when she’s hungry or just really too, too tired. And then I put her down and bam, she’s asleep. Here—you tired of holding her? Want to get yourself a snack and rest before you go back to work?” She stood and held out her arms to take Gracia back. Jessie got up as soon as CarolSue did, ready to follow her.
“No, I’m good. You go take a rest. You deserve it.” He still wanted to get to know the baby, though. Nothing wrong with that, or was there? God needed to give him a Sign.
His aunt looked disappointed. “Okay, then.” She headed into the master bedroom—his mother and father’s old room—but a moment later she was back. “Listen, I’m sure she needs changing now. Let me just put a fresh diaper on her.”
“Where are they? I can do it.”
“Really, it’s easier to do it myself. I have everything organized, and she needs some diaper cream, too. I’ll bring her right back,” and then she was taking Gracia out of his arms. “Come here, my sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up. We like to be nice and dry, all clean, don’t we? No wet diapers for my girl,” she crooned, as she disappeared down the hall with the baby.
Gary stood in the living room, his arms suspended halfway to his sides as if unknowing what to do with themselves, and there was a chill where the baby had been nestled against Gary’s chest and neck and the heat of his body had mixed with hers.
Much later, Gary would think of how his sweat was like the water of his life, his loss, and how Gracie’s head had become sweaty tucked between his neck and chest, so that maybe her loss and his had run together as surely as the water of Rush Run, the creek through the woods that edged this farm where he’d been raised, ran into the greater creeks and rivers that ran to the ocean from which all life rose and rose again. And he would wonder if that had been the Sign. The small Grace that was given. And is given and given.
Gus
Gus left the café as soon as he decently could, still astonished at his own slip. Good Lord, he muttered to himself, as he slammed his patrol car door. You told her son that you’d taken out Margo and you brought up her hanging boobies? You even started to compare them to his mother’s? And then you ask him if he needs traffic control for his Sunday services as a way to change the subject? Well, that last was a ridiculous notion. Gary was lucky to get twenty people at any service, which meant seven cars. There was room around the barn for perhaps thirty, but anyone could bait Gary to talk about his church, so maybe that part had been okay. Gus muttered on while turning the cruiser’s key, trying to reason out whether he’d done actual damage to his own cause. You can’t do stupid stuff, that is the damn point.
The day was brilliant, more fall in the air now, going out in the morning like biting an apple, and the maples edged with scarlet and gold, starting to set themselves on fire when the light came through them. That’s how they looked, all upright tall and burning glory when the sun got to a certain angle and shone through them late that afternoon when Gus drove a back road from Shandon in a southwesterly direction, which just happened to be the way to dear Louisa’s, and it had occurred to him how she also set his heart and maybe certain other parts of him ablaze.
Possibly today would be a good day for a nap, he thought, and some special tea afterward, then dinner. He’d bring a steak. He could still do that easily—until the time changed back to standard, he had that extra hour of daylight—and neither of them minded eating late. They’d been known to have their special tea in bed, although Gus himself often skipped the tea ingredient.
Damn! What the hell are you thinking? CarolSue is there. Moved in. Gus slapped the side of his face with his palm, something he fantasized about doing to the back of Jimmy’s head altogether too often. This isn’t something a man with normal intelligence would forget. Those last were the exact words he’d said to Jimmy, in fact. Good grief, he must be overtired from lack of naps. He’d heard it could do brain damage.
He drove down Main Street more slowly than usual, scanning the parking meters, which was Jimmy’s job, but not trusting him to have actually checked them. They were two-hour meters and the shop owners liked to park right in front of their stores instead of on the side street where they were supposed to, even though there was free parking a block away. Every once in a while, Gus would send Jimmy out to chalk their tires and he could write twenty tickets that morning, easy. Really pissed off the storekeepers but kept the township trustees off Gus’s case. It was a balancing act, like Rhonda used to say that his apartment was a balancing act between his need to create chaos and her need to restore order to the universe. He really missed his sister a lot. The big question now was how he was going to balance out this CarolSue thing with his need to be with Louisa. Rhonda would have had some advice, even though he wouldn’t have told her about the naps. Too embarrassing and she’d make a big deal out of it. It was a big deal, of course, but, well, whatever. He still wouldn’t have been . . . specific.
He spotted an expired meter in front of the Supply with an empty spot to slide the cruiser into right next to it. He wrote the ticket so he could claim he’d spent all kinds of time checking meters, which likely wouldn’t match with the meter tally, but nobody checked that day by day, only by the month. He’d have to get on Jimmy to do meter patrol on foot again. The town was hardly a blink, and the meters were new. Anything to raise some revenue. Gotta keep the shopkeepers happy, because they’re voters, but keep the township trustees happy because they approve
the sheriff’s budget and salary, after all.
He got back into the black-and-white, pleased with himself. He could do this. Set a task before him and he could do it. Stinking trustees wanted revenue raised, couldn’t get their levy passed, okay, he’d raise some revenue. Rhonda had always said he could do whatever he wanted, even when she was mad, like, “You could take care of this place right if you wanted to.” So fine. He’d have to maneuver CarolSue out of the way, keep Gary happy, and . . . Louisa, well, Louisa must be tired out from her sister being there and all the garden work. She really must need to get back to regular naps. He’d just have to make that happen.
Chapter 19
CarolSue
Yesterday afternoon was the closest call yet, and I don’t mind telling you that I don’t think my sister understands the gravity of the situation. I truly think she’s gone over the edge. I never thought the day would come when I’d have to say, “Louisa, what’s the Plan?” because she used to always cram one of her crazy Plans down my throat so hard and fast I couldn’t even speak to object.
Come to think of it, she still does when it comes to something that she really cares about, like getting enough vegetables canned to feed us and the five hundred residents of Shandon in the very likely event that all grocery stores within a thousand miles all shut down forever. That seems to be her notion of a Plan these days. She doesn’t seem to think five minutes ahead about keeping Gus from finding out about Gracie.
I’ve been suggesting to her right along that she should tell Gus she’d like some privacy and a change of scene, and that they should go to his apartment to nap. I don’t know if she ever has, but not only have they not gone there, she doesn’t seem all that worried about his dropping in again.
Here’s what happened yesterday. You can decide for yourself if I’m right.
Gary showed up just as it was getting toward late afternoon, with one of those umbrella strollers. He said he’d been able to talk the Thrift Shop owner into donating it to the church. He seemed pretty pleased with himself about that, and said he’d take Gracia for a walk to give me a break from baby care and so I could help Louisa clean the chicken coop and get fresh bedding in the roost, which she’d said needed to be done. Oh goodie. Nothing more fun for me than cleaning out chicken poop, that’s for sure, and I didn’t want a break from baby care, but Louisa was tickled three times over because there was still plenty of daylight and we’d be able to get it done that afternoon.
I changed Gracie’s diaper and got her dressed for the cooler weather outside—where, yes, it was a good day for a walk, a day of sun so sparkling it made me think of the champagne Charlie brought home on our every anniversary, that sweet, sweet man, a day bright leaves told cheerful lies about the winter ahead. “It’ll be all right, my good girl,” I whispered to her, or to myself, before we left Louisa’s old bedroom that Gracie and I now shared. “I love you.” That last was definitely to Gracie, and more true words I’ve never spoken.
“Be careful,” I said to Gary when I handed her over. “Wait, I’ll strap her in for you,” and I carried her outside to the stroller, which he’d left on the front walk, buckled her in—it wasn’t as if she could climb out, but what if Gary tripped?—and tucked a receiving blanket over her.
“We’ll be fine, Aunt CarolSue,” he said. “You don’t need to worry.” And just like that, he took off, pushing the stroller down the gravel drive and letting it bump along. I’d have carried the whole kit and caboodle until I got to the road, and I wouldn’t have walked her out on that road anyway, little trafficked though it is. There’s no sidewalk.
“Watch for cars,” I called after him. “Please.”
He waved without turning around. I saw Gracia’s little hand fly up and down the way it does when she’s excited. Maybe Gary has a good idea after all, I thought. I’ll get him to leave the stroller here. And then they were all the way down the drive, trees blocking my view of the road. Gary turned right, and I couldn’t see them anymore.
I sighed and headed for the backyard, where I knew Louisa was foaming with excitement about the girls’ roost getting all freshened. I’ve mentioned how she is about those chickens.
I was doomed.
You might be thinking, Oh come on, CarolSue, that’s not so bad. Well, that’s a matter of opinion and maybe you’ve never had to clean up a roost full of chicken poop. But what happened next was way worse anyway, even though it did temporarily save me from the worst of the coop cleaning.
We’d gotten enough of it started that I was thoroughly disgusted and went into the house to look for rubber gloves, though what I really wanted was a gas mask. Louisa thought that was plain ridiculous, and said as much, but it turned out to be a good thing I was in the house, otherwise I’d never have heard the crunch of Gus’s tires on the driveway gravel. Believe me, I raced to head him off at the front door, frantically kicking baby toys under the skirt of the couch on my way through the living room.
“Hi, Gus! What’s up?” I said, as casually as I could through my panting, and blocking him from coming in. Jessie was a help with that, straining to get out to greet him.
“Got a surprise for you ladies,” he said. “And you can’t say no. Had me a surprise of a break this afternoon and got to leave early. Brought you two some beautiful steak and I’m going to grill us a great supper. Didn’t know Gary was here, though . . . but the steak’s big and it’ll do for us all.” He held up a package wrapped in butcher paper. Louisa, the vegetarian, would sure be thrilled. As if he’d read my mind, he added, “Thought it was worth a try. I mean, it’s not like it’s chicken, or goat or venison. She doesn’t raise cows.”
“Oh . . . my . . . what a delightful . . . thought,” I said, almost fainting with panic. “Uh . . . Gary’s not here.”
“He’s not? His van’s right there,” Gus said, pivoting to point at Gary’s church van, big enough to block out the sun, right there in the driveway. What was I thinking?
“Oh, right, I mean, not right now. He went out . . . for a hike.”
Gus broke into a grin that made the rims of his glasses dent the tops of his cheeks. “Gary? Huh. You don’t say. Well, hey, can I come in?” He took a step forward. There was no chance I’d scoured the kitchen for Gracie evidence.
“I’ve got a better idea. Give me those, and I’ll stick them in the refrigerator. You walk around the back and surprise Louisa. She’s in the chicken coop. I’ll meet you out there. It’ll be more . . . surprising.”
“Sure, love to surprise my honey. I’ll just cut through the house,” he said. Of course. Gus, who Louisa used to call “that puffy sheriff” when he was her nemesis, long before she was napping with him, had a beefy build that suggested he typically preferred the least possible physical exertion. With the one notable exception involving Louisa, apparently.
“Uh, Gus, to be honest, I handwashed my underwear and other personal . . . items . . . and they’re draped over the kitchen chairs because they can’t go in the dryer. They were gifts from Charlie, see, and it would be embarrassing for both of us.” I have to admit I was proud of myself for coming up with that one on the fly. Picture me trying to be suggestive, to invoke an image in his head of thongs and string bikinis, lace bras, maybe a black lace garter, anything to make him squirm.
My Charlie would have said, “Great, honey. Outta my way.” But Gus got satisfyingly red in the face, shoved the steaks at me, and mumbled, “I’ll just go ’round the house.”
“Good idea, Gus. So, you visit with Louisa, maybe give her a hand, huh?”
I shut the door, leaned my back against it and blew out a long exhale. Oh God. What now? Think, CarolSue. Think.
I scanned the living room. A random unused disposable diaper was on the side table. I snatched it up. Goodnight Moon on the coffee table. A rattle on the floor—Jessie had claimed that one as her toy and started tossing it in the air and chasing after it. I gathered those and rushed them to our bedroom. The kitchen was a disaster. Bottles, nipples, formula, bibs. Wha
t should I do with the formula in the refrigerator? I needed to keep that cold. Never mind. I poured it down the sink and buried the can under other trash in the receptacle under the sink. The rest of it went to the bedroom. Then I tackled the bathroom. Jessie thought all this wild activity was a great game and hounded my ankles, while Marvelle was disdainful, flicking her tail in disgust and planting herself by the back door, wanting to be let out, but I didn’t go near that door, afraid Gus would take it as a signal that my unmentionables had been stowed and he could come in.
You see the other problem, I imagine. What if Gary came back? I could only handle so much. I grabbed the landline and dialed his cell phone. Did he answer? Of course not. I stage-whispered into it (since the kitchen window was open), “Don’t come back—Gus!” and hung up.
One deep breath. I opened the door and went out.
Gus was being useless, standing and talking to Louisa, who was up to her ankles in poopy straw bedding as she raked out the coop. JoJo, Beth, and Amy were in sight, but Abigail and Sarah must have been spooked by Gus’s booming voice and taken shelter behind the barn. Rosie Two was munching the grass, still tall and lush from the wet August we’d had, where the back field sloped down. The feed corn would reach full dent soon and Al Pelley would be here to harvest it for the market. Louisa saw me and glared. “Thought you were helping me,” she said.
“Yep, and then Gus came, and you know, I’d washed my underwear, and it was air drying all over the place. Needed to put it all away before Gus came in. You know.”
The light dawned. “Oh. Oh, right,” she said. And then the Gary problem must have occurred to her. I saw it cross her face.
I said, “Gus brought such good steaks for dinner, but I’m so sorry, I already have plans. You remember that nice friend I made at the . . . library. Susan. We’re going out to supper in Elmont.”
Gus stood sweating lightly, his hands in his pockets, while Louisa raked away. “Well, Miss Louisa, that leaves you and me and Gary.”