A Peach of a Pair (13 page)

E
mily was acting weird. More so than usual, and it was giving Lurleen the creeps the way she was cutting her eye around at Lurleen, trying to get up the nerve to say whatever it was she had to say. She’d never been like this before; she’d always been only too happy to just come right out and ask for the sun, the moon, and while the good Lord was at it, the stars. But something definitely wasn’t right. Did she forget to pay the taxes? The insurance? Had those fools up and canceled their homeowners’ policy again? She didn’t have the time or the inclination for this, but whatever was wearing on Emily was big, so big, Lurleen couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Just come right out and say it,” Lurleen huffed.

“Say what?” Emily, ever the professional at playing dumb, used to be cute and coy, but now her routine was just annoying.

“Whatever that weight is on your delicate shoulders. Just say it.”

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“For what? Breakfast?” Because she sure hoped there was more to it than toast and jam and cold coffee, which also told Lurleen that Nettie did not cook. “And where’s Nettie; did you finally succeed in running her off?”

“I’m incensed,” Emily snapped. “I told her I’d make breakfast this morning. This used to be a fine meal for you, but now that girl has poisoned your mind right along with your palate.”

“She hasn’t done anything of the sort, and I’m sorry if I misread you, Mata Hari, but you’ve been acting very mysterious, and, frankly, I’m too tired to put up with your eccentricities. So, for God’s sake, just spit it out.”

“To die.” She swallowed hard, and wouldn’t look at Lurleen. “Are you ready to die?”

“Why? Are you thinking of killing me?”

Emily’s head snapped up. She looked horrified. “No, of course not. I just need to know.”

“I’ve never been the one who had a problem with the idea of dying, Emily. That’s you, but am I ready today, at this second? No.”

She sat down in the chair beside the bed and began to wring her hands, a sure sign that all hell was about to break loose. But for the love of Pete, Lurleen didn’t have the energy to fix one more thing for her sister. And what would Emily do when she was gone? Go to wrack and ruin no doubt without Lurleen here to keep the bills paid and finances straight, to shoo away every door-to-door salesman peddling a new and improved gadget that in truth wasn’t worth two cents and a ball of twine.

Emily touched the magazine poking out of her apron pocket a
couple of times and went back to wringing her hands. As peeved as Lurleen was, the lost look on Emily’s face stabbed at her already failing heart.

“Well, Emily,” she began, her voice not entirely void of the frustration that had her wound tight. “I’ve lived a very long time. I know Jesus, so, I suppose, in some regards, yes, I’m ready to die.” Emily’s eyes went wide; she didn’t have to say she wasn’t ready to let Lurleen go, every fiber of her being was screaming the news, and Lurleen could neither change nor fix this for her sister. “Look, I don’t have a choice here. My heart’s about to give out, and not just because Remmy Wilkes says so; I feel it. I know I’m near the end.”

“But how can you know what being near the end feels like if you’ve never been there before?” she asked, almost childlike, and started to cry because they’d been together forever.

Lurleen was well acquainted with what the end felt like. Losing John, seeing his beautiful body marred and lifeless had taken her to the edge, and she would have gladly leapt over it to join him in eternity if it hadn’t been for Teddy. For four years his anguish kept her tethered to this earth, trying to protect her mother and Emily from his infirmities, trying to protect him from himself; there was little time to think about John. Then Mama died and Teddy left, and Lurleen hated the terrible trick time had played on her.

She’d been so busy worrying about her brother, grieving with her mother and then for her mother, she could barely see John’s face when she closed her eyes. And there were no pictures of him; Teddy in one of his fits had seen to that. But she couldn’t blame the child, not after what happened.

After Mama died, Emily cried every day for at least ten years; it was a wonder, so many tears inside of one woman. She must have
inherited all of Lurleen’s. No matter what, she and Lurleen loved each other. Even during the times when their sisterhood was all they had to cling to, they loved each other.

Lurleen never cried, and she hated to see Emily carrying on now. “Sister,” Lurleen said, “this is something I can’t fix. I’m old; so are you, and we are going to die one day. If I could do something about that, call down the rapture so we could go together, I would.”

Emily always had a way about her, using her dramatics to massage a situation until it suited her, pouting and carrying on until she got her way. Then she’d perk right up, jabbering on about her prize like she had not shed one tear. Daddy always got so flustered with her, all she had to do was look like she was going to pitch a fit and he gave in. Yes, Emily was spoiled rotten now, and, heaven help the good Lord and the angels, she would be long into eternity.

She pulled the magazine out of her apron and spread it open over Lurleen’s lap on the chenille bedspread. Lurleen blinked at the full-page ad for Tareyton Cigarettes. “Honestly, Emily, what good would starting a nasty old habit do now?” Emily pointed to the headline on the opposite page.

A picture of a good-looking man, young but with white hair just the same.
Miracle in Palestine, Texas: Faith Healer or Hoax?
Lurleen could only make out the headline because it was big, and she didn’t have her reading glasses. Emily handed Lurleen her glasses. She didn’t have to read far before she knew where this was going. A woman who was having some kind of heart surgery had gone to the silver-haired preacher’s tent meeting and was completely healed. Even took medical tests afterward to prove it.

“I know how you hate snakes, but he’s not that kind of healer.” Emily’s last words had her signature little whine that was just above
a whimper. “And if he heals most anyone who comes, and folks come from all over, I know he’d heal you.”

“I don’t think so, Emily. The magazine is clearly questioning the man’s practices, which explains the word
hoax
in such big print. I don’t need my glasses to see this for what it is.”

She ratcheted up her little whine and swiped at her eyes. Honestly, Lurleen
would
have to die to get a moment’s peace. But surely even Emily had enough sense to know that Lurleen would never make it all the way to Texas and back, and how would they get there without a car and with neither of them ever having learned how to drive? Emily cued the tears that trickled down her beautiful old face like a waterfall. “Emily, I’m too tired to even think about getting better.” Emily was so blasted stubborn; Lurleen didn’t think it was possible, but here Emily was, crying harder.

“What do you want me to do? We don’t have a way to get there, and what if we traipse across the country and I give out along the way? How are you going to get me home to bury me proper?” Besides, Lurleen would probably spoil before they lowered her into the ground at the cemetery beside Mama and Daddy.

“Well,” she said, wiping her nose with a tissue, completely aware she had exasperated Lurleen into submission. “I thought we might take the bus out there. Maybe see the ocean along the way. You know you had the chicken pox in high school and never went on your class trip to Folly Beach. I remember you always fussing because you really wanted to see that ocean, and I’ve seen it, Sister. It’s
really
pretty. And we’ll be seeing the Gulf
of Mexico
, Lurleen; doesn’t that sound divine?”

Emily might have been the schoolteacher, a crackerjack at geography, but even Lurleen knew Texas, much less Palestine, Texas, was
at least a thousand miles away. She also knew Emily would carry on until she said yes. Lurleen shifted around in the bed her grandmother gave her, looked around her room at the pictures from three generations of Eldridges, her mother’s antique chifforobe and basin stand. She’d done that a lot lately, look at her things longingly, thankfully, knowing she was going to die in peace in this very room. But Lurleen could see there would be no peace, because she’d be gallivanting across the country with her pouting sister, who wouldn’t give a soul a moment’s rest until they surrendered to her every whim.

“All right. We’ll go,” Lurleen said, knowing full well she would never see the ocean before she died.

I
should have said something when Remmy stopped by to check on Miss Lurleen yesterday, but the moment I saw him standing at the screen door, I knew I had to avoid him at all costs.

Luckily, he was in a hurry to get to his next appointment. But it wasn’t just his rushing off or my chickening out that kept me upstairs last night. It was the way my heart jolted that first moment I saw him on the other side of the screen door, the way my entire body hummed, the same way I felt whenever I saw Brooks. No, it was even worse.

Of course I knew from personal experience that thread of anticipation was as old as man and womankind. But look what that had gotten me. Pain. Heartache. Yes, and a newfound and healthy aversion to Remmy Wilkes. Because, after confiding in him, kissing him,
and having him reignite feelings I was sure were forever dead, I knew I would never survive being hurt by him.

So, last night, I’d stood just behind the lace curtains at my bedroom window and watched him come up the walkway and disappear onto the front porch, where he stayed forever before finally leaving. And then I’d barely slept at all.

But I couldn’t hide from him forever, not when he came by the house most every day to check on Miss Lurleen. No, the plan was to pull him aside somewhere in the house where I would have some measure of privacy, but not too private, politely apologize for standing him up. Thank him for listening to me, without mentioning the kissing, the caressing. Tell him I was not nor would I ever be interested in him. And, while I was at it, I would suggest he stick to the local girls his sister hated. For all I knew, if Remmy had told Katie he was spending his evenings with me, she had already lumped me into that category.

Now, he was standing on the front porch, waiting for me to let him in. My heart slammed against my chest in rapid succession, like a bird trying to escape the world through a closed window. “Nettie. A word with you, please,” he said. “On the porch.” He stepped back so I could open the screen door and throw my plan right out the window.

He was angry and something else, I wasn’t sure. I swallowed hard, heart still out of control. I wasn’t getting anywhere near Remmy Wilkes so that he could do that thing he does, listen, make me feel important, desired. I’d known the back side of all those things, and they were agonizing when they were suddenly snatched away. No, I couldn’t endure that anytime in the foreseeable future. Maybe never. Was that
what had launched the sisters into spinsterhood? If so, they’d better move over and make room for one more.

“Miss Emily, Dr. Wilkes is here to see Miss Lurleen.” I said the words, looking straight at him, ignoring his request, and knowing with the mood Miss Emily was in she’d take the bait. She’d been stalking the house all morning, looking for a good fight. As much as she said she hated Remmy Wilkes, after she attempted to spar with him or if she was successful, she always had an extra spring in her step. Especially if she thought she’d bested him.

He opened the door, but I didn’t budge. Any other man would have stalked away, but not Remmy. He just cocked his head to the side and stood fast.

“You see to him,” Miss Emily shouted from her chair. “I have no use for the man.” That would be the last time I depended on the support of a fellow spinster.

I stepped out onto the porch. Hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans, studying my bare feet. “You could have talked to me, Nettie. And, for the record, you can always talk to me,” he said. “But you left me sitting on this porch alone. I stayed here and thought about why you’d stand me up, not even for a real date, and the only conclusion I came to is that you’re a runner.”

There was no arguing with that. Up until now, I’d always been sure I was the direct opposite. But I had left my home, my family, even Brooks the first chance I got and had taken a scholarship hundreds of miles from Satsuma. Why? Was I running then? What was I running from? Was it Brooks? Had I deserted him long before he cheated on me?

“Remmy, I’m sorry I stood you up; that was wrong. But, please understand I’m not ready to start a relationship, and that’s where
this felt like this was headed.” With him, and those dark chocolate eyes, that easy way that could wreck my heart in a million ways if I wasn’t careful.

“That’s because it is headed that way, Nettie. You know it. I know it. What I don’t understand is, what changed? What sent you running again?”

“I’m not, I—”

“You are.”

“You’d better not be charging me to stand on my porch and talk to the help, Remmy Wilkes,” Miss Emily hollered. She grumbled something unintelligible; the sound of her sensible shoes clicking toward the door was a relief. “Be gone, Remmy. Your services are no longer required. I’ve found a real healer and, soon, my sister will be as spry as a new kitten.”

“Miss Emily.” Remmy nodded, brows knitted together, looking at me as if I knew something about her claim. When I shook my head, he opened the screen door and came inside. “Until Miss Lurleen tells me she’s no longer my patient, I’m obligated to see her. So, if you will excuse me.” She gasped when he pushed past her, headed for Miss Lurleen’s room.

“You,” Miss Emily snapped. “Come with me. It may take both of us to remove him from the premises.”

By the time we reached the bedroom, Remmy was already taking his stethoscope out of his bag. “How are you feeling?” he asked as Miss Lurleen opened her nightgown. “And what’s this I hear about you getting a new doctor?”

“Me? I don’t have another doctor,” Miss Lurleen sputtered.

“We don’t need a
doctor
,” Miss Emily said. “We’ve got God on our side.”

“You want to tell me what this is all about, Miss Lurleen?” He continued his examination, looking at me every once in a while. For support? To make me feel guilty? Weaken my defenses?

She let out a long, stuttering breath and retied her gown. “It appears I’m going on a trip.”

“To be healed. Finally,” Miss Emily added.

Remmy nodded, taking her blood pressure. “It’s Emily’s idea. There’s this faith healer,” Miss Lurleen said.

“So, where are you going?” He pulled back the covers to check her feet. “When are you leaving?”

“Palestine. Day after tomorrow, not that it’s any of your business,” Miss Emily snapped.

“That’s an awful long way to go, Miss Lurleen.” Remmy hung the stethoscope around his neck. “How are you going to get there?” he asked, looking at me like I had something to do with this. I shrugged; this was all news to me, but I felt a rush of something that felt very much like relief.

“Oh, for pity’s sake it’s not
the
Palestine; it’s Palestine, Texas,” Miss Emily said. “And we’re going by bus. Which reminds me,” she said, wheeling around to face me. “The moment we get on that bus,
your
services will no longer be required either.”

And why did that bother me? Because I wanted to care for Miss Lurleen or because that bus would be leaving Camden?

“Well then I’m not going,” Miss Lurleen fussed. “Not without Nettie, and I mean it, Emily.”

Before I could say anything, Remmy clipped, “Of course she’s going.” He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose before glancing at me, hard lines drawn across his face, as if it was my idea
to get as far away from him as possible and take the sisters with me. But this was not my doing. “Let’s back up a minute. First off, Miss Lurleen, a faith healer is not going to cure you.”

“Are you blaspheming God?” Emily spat. “Are you saying he can’t heal my sister?”

“No. But I’ve been monitoring Miss Lurleen for more than a year; I know what her condition is, what the natural progression of her disease is. And you’re right, it will take an act of God to make her well. But I’m assuming you got hold of the same article I read where they called that tent preacher a hoax.”

“Miracle worker,” Miss Emily hissed.

After I’d tired of reading the entertainment articles over and over again, I had skimmed that story too. If you were a believer in modern medicine like Remmy, it was clear the reverend was indeed a flimflam man. But with her sister sick, dying, no one could fault Miss Emily for craving a miracle.

He turned his back to Miss Emily and glanced at me before looking at his patient, who was so very frail. “If you leave this bed, Miss Lurleen, to get on a bus.” He paused, his voice tight with restraint. “You will more than likely die somewhere between here and Texas, not in your bed. Not in your house surrounded by your things. Not where I know you want to be when you pass.”

“You don’t know what Lurleen wants,” Miss Emily gritted out, but he ignored her.

Miss Lurleen looked Remmy straight in the eye and nodded. She knew this was true; she knew this was ridiculous, but she was doing it for her sister.

Remmy put his things in his battered black bag before turning to
me. “The food alone will probably kill her. It’ll be full of salt. Call me from the road every day. Collect. Let me know how she’s doing.

“You’ll need to keep an eye on her for swelling, especially her feet and ankles. Check them several times a day. If they get bad, if she has a lot of trouble breathing, get her to the nearest hospital.”

I was no nurse, not even close. “How bad is bad?” I stammered.

He ignored my question, picked up his bag and laid his hand on Miss Lurleen’s shoulder. “Wish you wouldn’t do this.”

“I know.” She looked fearful of what was to come. Except for the night she came to the supper table and to use the bathroom, she hadn’t been out of the bed for weeks. And, from the remarks Remmy had made, she’d been ill for quite some time.

“Take care.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze and looked at me. “Follow me out?”

After avoiding Remmy Wilkes, I couldn’t catch up to him fast enough as he headed out the front door and onto the porch. “Remmy, I can’t do this. She’s so sick, too sick for me to take care of. And on a bus?”

He scratched some instructions and two phone numbers on a prescription pad, ripped off the page, and handed it to me. “Call and check in every day. Let me know how she’s doing. If there’s a problem, day, night, it doesn’t matter; you call me, and I will help you, Nettie, in any way I can.”

“No. I’m not leaving; Miss Lurleen said herself that she won’t go without me.”

“I don’t want either of them to go; it’s a terrible idea. But with or without you, I can guarantee you, Emily Eldridge is going to drag her sister onto that bus and somebody’s going to die, maybe both of
them. As horrible as that is, the thing that bothers me most is you’re leaving, and I don’t want you to go.”

“Remmy—”

“No, Nettie, hear me out. A few minutes ago, the look on your face when you saw me at the door? You were dying to run away from me. I’m not sure you wanted to; it was more like you needed to.

“I know that you’re hurt, that you’re scared. After what your family did to you, I don’t blame you. But I learned a long time ago anything worth having is worth working for. Waiting for. So, I’m not going to try to stop you from running because I know that’s what you need to do, even if it means getting on a bus with two old ladies who have one foot in the grave. So, you run as fast and as hard as you want, Nettie Gilbert.” He pushed a tendril of hair behind my ear and lingered. “But when you’re done running, come back to me.”