Chasing Lilacs (25 page)

“Nothing good is going to come of this. Trust me.” Tuwana’s blue eyes bored into me.

“Meanwhile, back at the ranch…”

“Whatever. Just remember, I told you so, and if you need any help, you can count on me.” She jangled her wrist and dug into
her oversized coat pocket. “I almost forgot. I got you something.”

Inside the reindeer-printed paper was a small diary with a clasp and a tiny silver key.

“It’s perfect! The best present I’ve ever received.” I clutched the powdery blue diary to my chest with one arm and gave Tuwana
a hug with the other. “Thank you.”

January 1, 1959

Dear Diary,

We had ham hocks and black-eyed peas today. Good luck, you know. I could use it after this last year. I’ve made my New Year’s
resolution. I am going to quit running away from my problems. I have to stand up for myself. I just have to.

SJT

*   *   *

I couldn’t wait to get back to school and see Mrs. Gray. On the first day of classes, Cly told me all about Big Tex and Eva’s
cousin who had a used-car lot. Norm promised they’d go back to Dallas and get Cly a car when he passed his driving test. “I’m
holding out for a ragtop.”

The day dragged by slower than molasses. Finally last hour came, and I hurried to Mrs. Gray’s class with the clothes she’d
loaned me in a paper sack. Her head jerked up when she saw me, the bun on top of her head bouncing lightly. She seemed surprised
to see me. Ever since Christmas night, I’d had conversations with myself about what I would say to her and how funny it was
to find out she was Slim’s daughter. She hurried over to me.

“Sammie, I’m sorry. I thought you had gotten the message. Mr. Howard wishes to speak to you.” Her fingertips rested on my
shoulder for a second.

“No, no message, but I’ll go if I’m supposed to. Here are your clothes. Thanks for letting me use them.”

She took the bag from me, her eyes sad. A twinge went through me, the teensiest bit of panic. Was it Goldie? Daddy? Maybe
something had happened to Scarlett.

Mr. Howard’s door stood open behind the empty secretary’s chair. He waved me in. Cheerful, rosy-cheeked, he pointed to a chair
for me to sit down. He picked up a folder, put on thick, black-rimmed glasses, and studied a sheet of paper.

“Mmmm… all A’s for the semester. Quite a pleasant surprise in view of all that’s happened.” He smiled and seemed to expect
a response.

“I like school and know I have to make good grades for college.”

He cleared his throat. “Keeping up with my students is of particular interest to me, one of the qualities of a good principal,
I like to think.”

Did he think we were doing a follow-up on him for the newspaper? If so, it was news to me.

He went on. “I must admit, I had a few worries about you, but I can tell having your aunt in the home has been a stabilizing
factor, of which you are no doubt aware. Maxine, I believe her name is.”

“Vadine. Her name is Vadine Cox.” How did he know her?

“Yes, quite a mesmerizing woman. So perceptive too. She’s pleased with your academic progress, but expressed some other concerns
to me when we visited before Christmas.”

My fingers gripped the metal arms of my chair. That’s what she was doing at the school—talking to Mr. Howard. What concerns?
Obviously not the typewriters.

“She says you’re headstrong, with a tendency toward impulsive actions and disregard for others. She’s noticed a pattern, and
having grown up with a mentally unstable sister—that would be your mother—she’s worried about you. What brought her to me
was the article you wrote for our school newspaper. Not the one about me—you did a fine job on that. The Christmas article
you did. I’m afraid it concerned your lovely aunt greatly.”

“What?” She never said one word to me about it. I racked my brain trying to remember if she even read the school paper when
I showed it to Daddy.

“Your aunt says your fanciful ideas in the article are in direct opposition to your family’s religious beliefs, and your confusion
about the most basic things you’ve been taught has caused her much grief.”

“Yes, sir. She believes my mom died and went straight to hell.”

“Sammie, we don’t allow swearing at school, and in matters of religious issues, we steer completely clear. That is why you’ve
been released from working on the paper. Best all around, I think.
Working with families is one of the strengths I bring to my position here. You’ve been assigned to study hall for this semester.
Any questions?”

“Mentioning heaven could hardly be called religious. More of just imagining what Christmas in heaven would be like. You know,
would there be snow, Christmas trees, or would every day be like Christmas?”

“I see your aunt’s point. Your fantasies now might be just the tip of the iceberg toward deeper delusions. I’m afraid my decision
stands. Anything further you’d like to say?”

Aunt Vadine did this. How could she?

I studied my fingernails, trying to decide what to say.

Does he expect me to blurt out an apology? Or fly off my rocker like he thinks Mama did? No! I won’t let him get to me. Face.
Your. Problems
.

I took a deep breath and scooted to the edge of my chair.

“Mr. Howard, did the typing department sell all the used typewriters?”

“What an odd question for the matter at hand.” He shuffled the papers on his desk.

Seeing his confusion gave me a tingle of excitement. A riddle for Howdy Doody? “Well, did they?”

“No, as a matter of fact, we couldn’t get rid of them so we donated them to the VFW rummage sale.”

“Thanks, that’s all I needed to know.” Let him think I’d flipped my lid. He already did anyway.

When I left Mr. Howard scratching his head, I knew the time had come to try out my New Year’s resolution—I would not run away
from my problems. I had some serious questions for Aunt Vadine.

I
’M HOME,” I HOLLERED
, tossing my bag onto the end table.

Aunt Vadine came from the bedroom, looking like she’d just woken up from a nap.

In the kitchen I banged a few cupboards, poured a glass of milk from the icebox, and dipped a Lorna Doone in the milk.

“How was school?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. First day of the new semester. Math review.” I looked her straight in the eye. “Study hall last
hour.”

Aunt Vadine smoothed her hand over her sparrow-colored hair and plopped onto the couch, picking up her crochet.

“Mr. Howard called me into the office.” I sat in Daddy’s rocker.

“Mmmm…” The crochet hook zipped in and out, a steady line of thread unwinding from the yarn ball. I drummed up my courage.

“He wanted to discuss your visit to the school before Christmas.” My insides bubbled with emotion. “I saw you that day, you
know. At the time I thought you were coming to get one of the typewriters I had on my list—you remember, the used ones from
the typing department.”

“We don’t have room for a typewriter, and the
peck-peck-peck
I’m sure you’d be doing day and night would drive us all crazy.”

“You could have said something, or we could work out a schedule.”

“You’re too young for a typewriter. Besides, they were gone.”

“Not according to Mr. Howard.”

She stopped in midair and turned toward me, but said nothing.

“I found out what you were doing at school.” My jaw ached from tensing it so tight.

“Writing such nonsense will only get you into trouble.”

“Mrs. Gray didn’t think it was nonsense. Neither did Brother Henry.”

“Lawsy, Samantha, what did you do? Wag your fantasy all over creation?”

“That’s not the point. You interfered in my life. You had no right to go behind my back, kiss up to the school principal,
and get me kicked off the school paper. You have violated my rights.” My voice squeaked higher with every word.

“Children don’t have rights.”

“That’s a lie. Was it your idea or Daddy’s?”

“He doesn’t have time to chase off after every ridiculous incident you pull.”

“Ridiculous? To you maybe. To me it was a big deal to work on the newspaper. As a matter of fact, I hope to talk to Daddy
in the morning and see what he thinks.”

“Your father is busy making a living and grieving the loss of his wife, and I fully expect he will support me in this. I’ve
tried my best to be here for him, to fill in the gaps and give him comfort….”

“And be my new mother?” The words gagged me, but I couldn’t stop them.

Aunt Vadine’s spine straightened, and she sucked in a deep breath. “Well, certainly, if and when your father is ready, I believe
we could make it work. I’ve known him even longer than your mother did.”

She knew Daddy before Mama did?

“What do you mean?”

“It’s really none of your affair. What your daddy and I had is between us.” The crumpled crochet rested in her lap, her fingers
tangled in the yarn. A faraway look came into her eyes.

“You
dated
Daddy?” I thought I might vomit.

“That’s not so hard to believe, is it?”

“Daddy said meeting Mama at that dance was the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“Of course he would say that. He wasn’t the first to have his head turned by a good-looking woman. She could be quite charming
when there was something in it for her.”

“Were you mad at Mama for stealing your boyfriend?”

“Of course not.” She drew her shoulders up in a huff. “It’s all water under the bridge. Sometimes God gives us a second chance.”

“Is that what you were thinking when you came for Mama’s funeral? That Daddy might give you a second chance?”

“Don’t be absurd. I came to help. It was the Christian thing to do.” She stood up, straightening a doily on the armrest of
the couch.

“Tuwana was right then.”

Her eyes narrowed and turned from muddy brown to flashes of gold, like a cat ready to pounce on a garden snake.

“Tuwana said you came to be my new mother, that you’re just waiting for the right time.”

“Men have needs, things you’re much too young to know about.” Her words were aimed at a spot over my head like she was addressing
an invisible person behind me.

“Like your boyfriend Bobby?”

She sucked in her breath. “Eavesdropping on my conversation was a nasty thing for you to do. I will not allow you to interfere
in my life.”

“But you can interfere in mine? Throw my books into the incinerator? March off to school and get me thrown off the paper?
Steal Mama’s pearls? Kiss my daddy?” The words flew out of my mouth, and I didn’t try to stop them.

Aunt Vadine stepped toward me. Her arm flew at me, her open palm slamming against my cheek. My brains bounced from one side
of my head to the other. My face stung, and hot tears filled my eyes. I blinked, refusing to let them fall. She would not
make me cry.

“This conversation is over, you ungrateful little ninny.”

“No, it’s not. You
will not
be my new mother. I will talk to Daddy. You’ll see.”

The feel of her hand on my flesh burned, but I didn’t care. I threw on my coat, hat, and gloves and slammed the front door
behind me. I whistled for Scarlett. My breath huffed out in white clouds, and the air tingled my cheeks, easing the ache in
my jaw from Aunt Vadine’s slap. She could knock me silly for all I cared, but I would tell Daddy about Bobby and the newspaper
and her lighting in to me. At least Mama had an excuse for all the times I’d come home and found the house dark, dirty dishes
in the sink, and her curled in the quilt in her bedroom. She had depression. Aunt Vadine was just plain mean.

Tuwana was right. Not just about Aunt Vadine thinking she could become the new Mrs. Joe Tucker, but also about the pearls.
They were mine, and I would take them back. Call it stealing if you want, but… they… were… mine. Mama wanted me to have them.
And her New Testament.
Seek and ye shall find.

My stomach tightened. While Scarlett scampered from one yard to the next, the cold bit me, creeping through my coat, my hat.
The January dusk turned quickly from furry tan to a deep gray.
The elm trees stood with their bare arms reaching up in jagged angles to the sky. I looked up, hoping someone in heaven would
reach down for me.

An achy spot inside wanted someone to hold me, to ask about my day at school and laugh with me. Daddy did those things, but
a mother is what I wanted. Daddy deserved better than Aunt Vadine. We both did.

From my feather bed, I waited, listening for Daddy to come home from work. Morning seemed an eternity away, so I’d decided
to stay awake until his shift ended.

Soft giggling pulled me out of the half sleep I must’ve fallen into. Moonbeams slanted through the gauzy curtains above my
bed, ending on the twin bed where Aunt Vadine slept. Empty. No snoring from her side of the room. Then another giggle.

From the front room?
I strained my ears, trying to tell where the sound came from.

Daddy’s room? Possibly. Was that Aunt Vadine giggling?

A creaking sound. Then a gruff, low sound. Cold sweat covered my body. I lay there listening, trying to piece it all together
for what seemed like hours. I wanted to get up and talk to Daddy, but my body felt paralyzed.

What did they think? That I was just a kid who couldn’t put two and two together and figure out what moaning and creaking
meant? I’m no expert, but I would have to be a certified idiot to not figure out what Aunt Vadine was doing with my daddy.

No! No! No! Don’t let her trap you, Daddy!

Low voices came like radio static to my ears. No more giggles or squeaking sounds. Maybe I’d heard something on the television.
The toilet flushed, and Daddy’s voice came through loud and clear. “ ’Night, Vadine.” He shut the door to his room.

When I woke up the next morning, Aunt Vadine’s bed had its normal crumpled look, and I smelled bacon and coffee. I’d overslept
by ten minutes and threw on my clothes, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair, still determined to talk to Daddy for at least
a few minutes.