Return to Redlin

by Lazette Gifford

  Chapter 5

  I woke up early the next morning, got ready for the funeral, and walked to my parents' house to pick up my car. Mom had wanted me to come by and check out the Snow White costume she made for me for Apple Days, too. And no, I hadn't mentioned that part to Derrick. The conversation about Apple Days had been bad enough already.

  I opened the front door and stepped in, sniffing with appreciation at the scent of fresh blueberry muffins. I quickly stripped off my jacket, my mouth watering before I even made it to the kitchen where my mother washed dishes -- why she wouldn't use the perfectly good dishwasher I never figured out, but I had learned to stop asking.

  "Muffins are on the counter, dear." Mom waved a dish rag towards them. Her right eyebrow twitched upward. "You look very nice this morning."

  "Thank you. I'm going to Jackson Hoy's funeral," I reminded her, getting a small plate and a muffin. Butter still sat on the table.

  "Oh, is the funeral today? I forgot," she said, letting the water out of the sink. Then she saw two more cups on the counter and quickly started washing them. "Would you like me to go with you?"

  "No, that's all right, mom." I smiled at the back of her head. "I'm giving Derrick Weston a ride to the church and the cemetery."

  Mom turned around, cup and dish rag in hand, water dripping on to the floor. She stared for a long, long moment.

  "I'm only giving him a ride, mom. Someone vandalized his car last night -- sliced all the tires."

  "Derrick Weston. You are going to take Derrick Weston to the funeral with you."

  "I'm giving him a ride to his grandfather's funeral."

  "Oh." She stopped, tilted her head a little, before nodding. She put the dish rag and cup back in the sink and grabbed a towel from the rack by the counter to dry her hands. She sat at the table with me. "I forgot Derrick isn't actually a Weston, is he?"

  "No, he's not -- for all the good it did him growing up."

  "True. Well, but unlike the rest of the Weston mob, Derrick was always a polite boy."

  "Derrick." I said with a shake of my head. "The one they carted off to juvenile hall before graduation."

  "Yes, the pretty one. Besides, I think they took the wrong Weston boy," she replied with a huff of indignation.

  I couldn't argue with her on that one, especially after the trouble I had with Junior -- and I didn't mention the trouble last night. She worried enough about me working in the Gas and More already.

  "They should have dragged Junior off." Her head bobbed several times. "Derrick was polite. He helped me carry groceries home more than once, and even pushed the car out of a snow bank the last winter before he . . . left. And considering what your oldest brother confessed to last summer, I can't hold joy riding and shoplifting against Derrick, now can I?"

  I didn't know what Tommy had confessed to, but I knew better than to ask right then. If I hinted later, she'd have forgotten she hadn't already told me the full story, and let some more of it slip out. I have to admit, she had my attention, though. I would love to have something to hold over his head, and to tell his kids when they grew up. God knew he had enough stuff on me.

  "Would you like me to make you breakfast?" mom asked, glancing at the stove and refrigerator as though doing a mental inventory.

  "No. I'm going to pick Derrick up in about half an hour," I said. She smiled. "I'm not going on a date, mom. We're both going to a funeral. I liked Mr. Hoy."

  "You liked his grandson too."

  "Back in high school -- a long time ago."

  "Well, I liked your father in high school, too, you know. Oh, you better check the dress before you leave!"

  "I'm sure the dress is fine, mom." But I stood and headed for her sewing room. She followed behind.

  She had hung the dress on the hook over the window, and the morning light shimmered through and around the cloth, casting rainbow colors. I knew she had cobbled the dress together from cloth torn apart from thrift shop sales, but the dress looked like every little girl's dream of being a fairy princess. I felt young again and I saw my mother smile as I brushed my hand over the cloth.

  "This is gorgeous."

  "You'll be the prettiest Snow White Apple Days ever had," she said, and meant the words in a way only a mother can.

  I gave her a quick hug on the way out of the room. "I have to get going and pick up Derrick."

  "Why don't you bring him by here for dinner tonight?"

  "Mom --" I began with an exasperated sigh.

  "I liked Derrick. I don't think it would hurt for him to have a nice, quiet meal after the funeral, do you?"

  "I'll ask him. He may say no," I said, wondering how I could broach this subject with him. "He's -- well, he's kind of changed and kind of not. He has two kids, but his wife died of cancer last year."

  "Oh, that's so sad for him and his kids. You bring him by, Ginny."

  "I'll see what he says," I replied again as I grabbed my coat as I peered outside. "This is going to be a pretty miserable day for a burial. I hope we don't get ice."

  "You be careful." She put a hand on my arm as I started to open the door. "We heard about the trouble with Junior last night."

  Of course she had heard. I don't know why I thought I could get away with not telling her. News spreads fast in a small town like Redlin -- Derrick was right about that part.

  "I'll be fine. You know Junior --"

  "Yes, unfortunately, I do. You just be careful. Your uncle is thinking things might not be safe for you to work at the Gas and More, between this and the robberies. I never thought we'd have to worry about this kind of thing here, but --"

  "Don't worry. I'll be careful," I promised and kissed the top of her forehead.

  I went outside and nearly slipped on the wet and nearly icy front step. Oh yes, be careful. I sighed and headed to the car. I kept the car parked here so Sonia could have the spot at the apartment. Dad had found the time to put the winter tires for me. Good. I feared this day would be dangerous with the already slick roads.