A Peach of a Pair (23 page)

Always beautiful, Sissy looked more fragile that I remembered, frail. Her long blond hair was unbound, hanging close to her waist. Her heart-shaped face was serious, lips drawn in a tight line as she watched the celebration from afar.

“I’m Lurleen Eldridge.” With all the hullabaloo, I hadn’t even heard Lurleen get out of the car. “Nettie’s friend,” she said firmly, like she was choosing which side of the church to sit on at a wedding.

“Oh, I knew you’d come, Nettie,” Mama gushed. “But you didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest. So glad you could come for the festivities. The whole town will turn out and then some; we’re really putting on the dog for this wedding.”

“What?” I mumbled, but I don’t think anyone heard me over the merrymaking. I hadn’t come for the wedding, at least I didn’t think I had. I’d come to see Sissy because she needed me. Because I needed her. I looked at the screen door where Sissy had been, but she was gone.

“Nettie Jean Gilbert! Where are your manners? Introduce Mrs. Eldridge to everyone this instant.”

Funny how Mother fell back into her commanding tone as if she still held sway over my life. But I did want Lurleen to know everyone. “Lurleen, this is my Aunt Opal, my—”

“Young lady, respect your elders,” Mother clucked. “It’s
Mrs.
Eldridge
, and we are so pleased to have you as our guest. I’m Dorothy, but you can call me Dot; everyone does.”

“It’s
Miss
Eldridge,” Lurleen replied, giving my mother’s hand a firm shake. “And Nettie is my very dear friend, so she can call me anything she wants.”

I continued on with the introductions, ending with Aunt Madge and Uncle Doak’s youngest son, Charlie, who was twelve. “Lovely to meet all of you,” Lurleen said, just as a red truck rumbled down the lane with
Carver Feed and Seed
emblazoned on the side.

My heart did not leap the way it always had, nor did it sink like it had every time I’d thought about receiving an invite to Brooks’s wedding. Mother was quick to my side. “He’s family now, Nettie. Comes for dinner most every night, just like he always has. I’m not asking you to be nice to him, but I do expect you to maintain some measure of decorum.”

He didn’t notice me until he got out of the truck. He stopped dead in his tracks, and the sea of family that had engulfed me parted. Miss Lurleen was still by my side. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to; I could feel her quiet strength, her solidarity as the rest of the people I loved leapt onto the fence and straddled it for all they were worth.

This wasn’t how I wanted it to go. I didn’t want to see Brooks at all. I wanted to say what I had to say to Sissy and leave. Take Miss Emily and Lurleen home to Camden where they belonged, where I was reasonably sure I belonged. But things never go the way they’re supposed to. Somehow the very universe knows the one thing you’re avoiding and throws it right in your face.

Brooks nodded my way. Lurleen linked her arm though mine; her other hand cupped my fist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Love. Solidarity. Sisterhood.

“Nettie, dear. I’d like to wash up before supper. Would you mind
showing me to my room, please,” she said like she knew I wanted no part of Brooks Carver.

I nodded. Before I could move a muscle, Griffin and Charlie grabbed our bags. Griffin started to take mine to Mother’s house. “Griffin? I’ll be staying with Lurleen at Nana’s,” I announced, watching Mother flinch. Then she nodded like it was only fair, considering.

I cupped Lurleen’s elbow and guided her across the uneven ground toward Nana’s front porch. “Nettie.” Brooks’s voice made me freeze. Tremble. Although not with want and need like it had in the past.

“Dinner’s almost ready, son,” Mama said to Brooks. “Sissy’s in the house. You go on inside and get washed up now.”

We continued up the steps to the porch. Miss Lurleen looked back over her shoulder as I opened the door, and mumbled something under her breath that made me smile. Tears stung my eyes, and my chest went tight. Lurleen huffed and said it again, adding the swear words to complete the tribute. “
G.d. pissant
.”

H
onestly, it was all Lurleen could do not to pinch that boy’s head off right in front of God and everybody, and how mightily he deserved it. Driving up to the house for supper, like the sisters were as interchangeable as he’d assumed they were. And now the whole family was going to sit around the supper table together? Good Lord, had any of those people ever had one shred of concern for Nettie? One ounce of understanding of what that would be like for her?

Lurleen slipped her shoes off to go across the hall and check on Nettie. Before she could, Helen, the grandmother, knocked at the same time she opened Lurleen’s door and then stepped inside. “Hello.” Lurleen stopped in her tracks. Right off the bat, she’d pegged Nettie’s mother as the flighty woman she was; this one she wasn’t so sure of. “I was just going to look in on Nettie.” Lurleen pointed as Helen closed door.

“Before you do, I want you to know that I don’t approve of what Brooks did to Nettie,” she said, her voice hushed. “What they all did to her,” Helen said tightly and jerked her head in the direction of Nettie’s childhood home.

“I don’t believe you,” Lurleen whispered back, making the woman who looked to be a good bit older than Lurleen gasp.

“Who are you to make that determination? Why, it would behoove you to remember you’re a guest in this house. Besides, my own son, Nettie’s father, said it was for the best to let things lie so I did. It tore my heart out not to reach out to that poor girl, comfort her,” she huffed. “And you’re dead wrong, I care very much about my granddaughter.”

Before Lurleen knew it, Emily’s words hissed out of her mouth. “The blond pregnant one?”

But it was wonderful to feel them inside her, fighting for Nettie, wonderful to feel Sister’s sass and vinegar from the other side of the grave. Yes, indeed, what would Emily Lorene Eldridge have to say if she were here? Plenty.

“Have you always let a man do your thinking for you? And just where were you when that child’s world went to hell? What did you say to her to console her when that sorry excuse for a man rutted her own sister and made a baby?”

“You will not speak to me that way in my own house. I’ll have you to know I raised two fine boys by myself after their father died. We kept this grove, this family going. We always keep the family going. Why, be ashamed of yourself. And such talk,” she hissed right back. “What kind of lady are you?”

“The pissed-off kind.” Helen sucked in a breath, but Lurleen continued, voice low. The last thing she wanted was to alarm Nettie,
but the thing she wanted most was to give this spineless woman a piece of her mind. “And I am
not
ashamed, although you should be.”

“You have no right to come in here and speak to me like this,” she gasped, plopping down on the bed like someone had cut her legs out from under her.

“I’m claiming that right. Now. I love that girl, and I’m so lucky she loves me back because when Nettie Gilbert loves, it’s not just with her heart but with everything she’s got,” Lurleen snapped. “I would do anything for her.
Anything
. But what I would first and most assuredly do, had I been privileged to know her at the time her entire family
betrayed
her, is what I’m doing now. Standing up for her.”

“Do
you
have children?” Helen knew the barb would catch before she cast it. “Yes, well, I didn’t think so. You wouldn’t understand what it’s like. Nobody wanted to choose sides. I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“The irony is that Nettie doesn’t even realize how strong she is, or maybe she does,” Lurleen snapped. “She didn’t
need
your love divided into two equal portions. She didn’t
need
your sympathy, but she deserved it, far more than any of the likes of you ever deserved her.” Lurleen shook her head slowly, eyes still narrowed. “And no, I do not have children. But if I did, I would die before I hurt them the way you people gutted that dear girl. And you can take that to the
g.d
. bank.”

Just then Nettie’s door opened. From the hallway, she called for her grandmother, then Lurleen, then her footsteps moved away from the door. “Now, you and I are going to walk out of this room in a civil manner,” Lurleen said, her voice still hushed. “And if Nettie
asks what this was all about, I’m going to tell her we had a nice conversation, which is the truth, Helen, because you needed to hear the truth. And while you all have an obligation to love
both
of those girls
equally
, make no mistake as to just whose side I am on.

“Right here, Nettie, dear,” Lurleen called.

Nettie opened the door, and her smile faded for a moment. She was dressed in the stunning jade-colored dress Emily would have wholeheartedly approved of, but instead of the cute little pumps they’d bought to go with it, she was wearing a pair of whitish lace-up shoes she called Keds. Nettie looked at her grandmother, then back to Lurleen, and swallowed hard. “Everything okay?”

“Just peachy,” Lurleen said, pushing past Helen. “Shall we see if we can help your mother with dinner?”

D
addy and Uncle Doak had Brooks out by one of the trucks, with the hood up. Good. They could keep him busy for all I cared. As I was giving Lurleen the nickel tour, he’d looked up from what he was doing, directly at me. I quickly turned my and Lurleen’s attentions to Mother’s impressive rose garden that was in full bloom.

At Christmastime, after Brooks had proposed, I’d slipped into Mother’s bedroom and woke her up without waking Daddy. We went into the kitchen and drank hot cocoa, just her and me, giggling, talking about my wedding day, how beautiful it would be. “Of course, it should be in June or even May,” Mama had said. “The
roses will be at their peak, and we’ll have them everywhere. I can even make one of those corsages for your hair out of my little white tea roses. Oh, Nettie, they’ll be gorgeous against your red hair. You’re going to be a ravishing bride.”

Miss Lurleen’s long sigh brought me back to the present. “You’re tired,” I said. “This is all too much for you, I just knew it.”

“I’m not at all tired. As a matter of fact, I haven’t felt this spry in a long time,” Lurleen said. “I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to get through dinner with
Brooks
sitting at the table and not strangle him.”

My eyes stung as I blinked back tears and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” Lurleen huffed, “which explains why I’m here and makes me wish Emily was too.”

A pang of grief sliced through my belly. We probably wouldn’t even be in Satsuma if Miss Emily hadn’t died. The feeling came as suddenly as it went; I stood ramrod straight, feeling the loss of her, but feeling something else. Her strength. Miss Emily knew the true value of sisterhood and what it felt like to suddenly be cut off from it. Yes. Somehow, someway, if Emily Eldridge were still alive, she would be here standing with me. Maybe she was.

I helped Lurleen up the steps and opened the door to my home. My eyes went straight to my piano. It was like seeing a long-lost friend. I went to it immediately, ran my fingers over the keys, but not enough to make them sing. “Will you play for me later?” Lurleen asked, smiling. I nodded. “And when we get home, I want to have someone come out to the house and tune Teddy’s piano. I suspect the person my mother used is long since dead. We might have to have someone come from Columbia.”

“I’d like that very much,” I said, “and of course I will play for you after dinner.”

I never realized how small our house was, but after living in the Eldridges’ rambling home, it felt tiny. Mother loved the ornate, which explains why my father never liked to sit in the living room. There was a mishmash of fancy, spindly secondhand furniture and an inordinate number of lace doilies Nana had crocheted. Too many family pictures were jammed about the mantel, the telephone table. My life in black and white, from birth until this past Christmas. The picture of Brooks and me opening presents was missing.

“Is that you?” Lurleen pointed to a skinny girl with pigtails sitting in the crook of a pecan tree.

While the bulk of our family income came from oranges, Daddy also grew pecans, corn, sometimes cotton. He’d tried his hand at cattle, but didn’t have the knack for them. I nodded and showed her another photograph just like the other one, only it was me and Sissy in that same tree. Daddy had fussed at us because pecan trees are not the best climbing trees, and he’d had to climb up after us to get us down on more than one occasion.

There were three times as many pictures of Sissy as there were of me. Brooks was in a couple of them with her, stoic smile or no smile at all. “I’m really having a problem with this.” Lurleen gestured at my family history.

“There were plenty of pictures of me before—” It suddenly occurred to me that Sissy must be every bit as confused as I was. Of course it wasn’t easy for her to see years and years of pictures with me and Brooks, maybe even painful. “It really doesn’t matter anymore,” I said, and it didn’t. I would have a new history going forward, one without Brooks Carver. I would have a niece or a nephew to
love, and I would have Lurleen and Katie, Dean Kerrigan and Sue, a horde of C-Square sisters. And I would have Remmy. “It’s fine, Lurleen.” I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “
I’m
fine.”

Lurleen sat at the kitchen table while Sissy, Mother, and I bustled around the kitchen like old times. At least the bustling part was. Sissy still wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Didn’t breathe a word.

She’d pulled her hair back and changed out of her work clothes and into a pair of denim pedal pushers and a pink top that made her eyes a beautiful cornflower blue. My eyes went immediately to her belly. It was as flat as ever, but she was four months at the most and wouldn’t start showing for a while.

What would it be like to see her swollen, huge with Brooks’s child? He was so tall and she wasn’t even five feet. Would her belly grow so big that she’d fall over if she wasn’t careful? Brooks was a big guy, and he had a big albeit beautiful head, which was likely hereditary. Poor Sissy would have to push that out of her—

Hands on her hips, Sissy cleared her throat, jerking my attention to her face. I gave her a wan smile and shrugged before getting back to the business of dinner. Soon all of the bowls and platters were assembled on the outdoor table. Mama had brought out her best china in honor of Miss Lurleen. Or maybe she had it out for the impending wedding.

Everyone had always had a specific place at this table, even Brooks, only Sissy was sitting in my place. There were always two places set at one end of the massive table where Daddy and Uncle Doak sat side by side. Doak’s wife, Madge, was to his left; Mother sat to the right of Daddy, of course; Nana was beside her. I helped Lurleen onto the bench seat and sat down sandwiched between her and Charlie.

While Daddy said grace, I could feel Brooks’s eyes on me, but I refused to look at him.

“Amen,” Daddy said, helping his plate to the gracious spread. “Hungry.”

Bowls of vegetables Sissy and I had put up last summer were passed around, black-eyed peas, butter beans, okra. Mama had sectioned the meatloaf into portions before Lurleen and I arrived, then cut one of the pieces into two very small servings. I helped my plate to the smaller one, and Lurleen took the other before passing the plate to Charlie, who looked awfully grateful that someone had taken the smallest piece besides him.

Stone-faced, Brooks whispered something to Sissy. She hadn’t touched her plate. She shook her head, keeping her eyes on the table. I could feel her anguish in my bones, but before I could say anything, Mother piped up. “Eat, Sissy. You have to take care of yourself.” No mention of the baby, just a glance in my direction to show she was being considerate.

Brooks nodded. I’d seen that frustrated look on his face before. When he didn’t want me to go away to college. After Christmas break when he put me on the bus to go back to Columbia. Sissy chewed in slow motion, barely eating anything. Probably wishing for our normal dinner banter over who would wash and who would dry, instead of what was to come.

After dinner, the men went back out to the truck. Brooks gave me a hard look and then joined them. There was a flurry of activity taking plates and bowls, platters and glasses to our kitchen to be washed. While Mother, Sissy, and I cleaned up, Lurleen sat at the kitchen table with my aunts. Aunt Madge was always a stitch and
could tell a story like nobody’s business; she started telling tales about my homeplace, my family. Me.

Still not saying a word, Sissy kept washing dishes, dipping them in the rinse tub and then handing them to me to dry. I leaned over and whispered in her ear and waited. “
Skunk
.”

She said nothing, just handed me another dinner plate.

“Skunk,” I whispered again, almost giggling to draw her into the game we’d played for as long as I could remember. When she didn’t answer back, I nudged her elbow and answered for her. “Possum.”

She hung her head as the world we knew carried on about us, in spite of us. Her shoulders shook. “Don’t cry,” I whispered. “Please don’t cry, Sissy.”

“Could you”—she swallowed hard, still not looking at me—“please take the scraps out to the animals?”

She plunged her hand into the water, hissed, and jerked it out. A tiny angry line dripped blood, making me want to cry. While absolutely nothing about this scenario was like it had always been before, and nothing between Sissy and me might ever be the same ever again, the fact that she always forgot and put the butcher knife in the soapy water made my heart soar.

“Please.” She didn’t look at me, just fished around and pulled out the offending knife before shoving her hands back in the water. “Just go.”

I nodded and excused myself with the scrap bucket. “Will you be long?” Lurleen asked. “I’m really looking forward to hearing you play, but I’m very tired.”

“I’ll just be a moment,” I said and hurried out to the barn.

The barnyard glowed in the full moonlight. Toby and Mack, Lacy and Pete, Daddy and Uncle Doak’s bird dogs were thrilled to
see the slop bucket, and me, I’d like to think. The barn cats materialized out of nowhere with their new kittens in tow, politely weaving in and out of my legs to say thank you for their supper. As I scratched one of the tiny ones on the head, I felt a familiar pair of hands on my hips. I wheeled around, accidentally knocking over the empty bucket.