No Defense (5 page)

After the buffet lunch and the speeches, only
the family and a few friends and guests remained at the Steak
House. It was almost three in the afternoon.

Jessie lay sleeping across three chairs I’d
pushed together against the wall. Telltale evidence of her Three
Musketeers Bar spotted the front of her white sailor dress. Eddie
and I sat on either end of our daughter, I at her head, he at her
feet, nursing another drink. The rest of the family relaxed at a
nearby table, rehashing the events of the day. Ben and Junior were
off at a comer table, chatting.

I was so tired from the day’s activities
that I was tempted to push together enough chairs to follow
Jessie’s example, but I knew my swollen body lying there wouldn’t
be a pretty sight. Instead I slipped off my shoes and propped my
swollen feet and ankles up on a chair I’d placed in front of me and
watched my shirt pop up here, then there, in an undulating dance
caused by the twins in motion.

I don’t know where the babies found the
room, all scrunched up in there, but often when I was very tired
and still, as now, they would go at it. A fist, an elbow, a knee.
Sometimes I simply relaxed and watched the show. Other times I
responded, rubbing whatever was poking out or gently pushing it
back in. It was an odd but satisfying means of communication.

Their activity brought home, as it sometimes
did, that there were two babies in there,
inside me
, two
babies who would very soon be Jessie’s brothers or sisters. I knew
this, of course, as an objective fact, but at another level
pregnancy and childbirth seemed too incredible to be true and had
been no less amazing when only Jessie occupied the same space.
After she was born, I would often stare at her for hours, marveling
that she had lived as part of me, that she had grown into Jessie
inside of me. This most common of human experiences seemed at the
same time both preposterous and miraculous.

My father put down his cigar and lightly
tapped a spoon against his beer glass. His navy jacket was draped
over his chair back, revealing his trademark suspenders. His own
likeness loomed behind him, the green eyes Jessie and I had
inherited from him staring out at us.

“I imagine y’all are all tired of hearing me
talk, and I’m tired of talking, but I have one more announcement.”
He reached around, pulled some papers out of his inside jacket
pocket, and unfolded them in front of him on the tablecloth. He put
a clean butter knife on the top of the document and a salt shaker
on the bottom to hold it open.

“I have here the deed to the Tallagumsa
Steak House,” he said.

I looked at the others, confused at the non
sequitur. What did the deed to the Steak House have to do with the
new courthouse?

Estelle, who was helping two of the
waitresses bus the cluttered dining tables, caught my eye and
winked at me.

“And it says here that Mimi and Howard
Bledsoe have sold the Steak House to … “ He cleared his throat.
“Let’s see now, sold it to …”

He pretended to search the papers for the
name, moving his finger along each line and obviously exaggerating
the delay to create suspense. He stopped reading, loosened his tie,
and ran his hand back through his hair.

“Ah-hah,” he said, reading again. “To Ms.
LuAnn Hagerdarn Garrett.”

“What?” I asked, astounded. My feet fell to
the floor; I sat up at attention, more alert than I’d been all day.
“What?” I said again.

I wasn’t the only one in shock. Eddie, Buck,
Jane, and Mother couldn’t have looked any more dumbfounded had I
just delivered the twins on the table next to the remains of prime
rib, baked potatoes, and Brussels sprouts. Only Junior and Ben
seemed unruffled.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said.

“That’s unusual,” Buck said.

“‘Thank you’ would be just fine,” my father
said jokingly.

He walked over, handed me the deed, and
kissed me.

The deed was dated five days earlier: March
31, 1978.

“Everything’s set up. When you get to town
y’all can stay in the old house where you grew up,” he said. “The
renters are moving away this month and the house is full of the new
furniture we bought when we moved to the lake. I’ve arranged for
Jolene to come days to look after Jessie and the babies. Your
horse, Glory, has been waiting a long time for you to come home.”
He smiled, looking pleased with himself

Howard and Mimi Bledsoe followed close
behind Daddy; he shook my hand, she hugged me. Eddie stood up,
leaned over, and snatched the papers out of my hand. He walked over
to the bar, filled his glass with the equivalent of a triple
scotch, and studied the deed.

“But, Daddy ...” I began. I was bewildered
by this turn of events.

“You probably need to think about it,
honey,” my father said. “Talk with Eddie. You don’t need to say
anything today.” He sat down again next to Mother. “I know you’ll
do what’s best for you and the children.”

“Well, I have something to say,” Mother
declared, her usually pale, placid face a bright pink. “What on
earth do you think you’re doing, Newell?”

I was shocked at this rare display of
boldness on her part. She always agreed with Daddy and, if she
didn’t, would certainly never let on. I loved her because she was
my mother, but I loved her more as an extension of my father, the
role she’d played, without deviation, for as long as I could
remember.

“I’m taking care of my family, Gladys, just
doing my job,” he said, dismissing her concern.

Mother walked over to the bar and held out
her hand to Eddie. He gave her the papers and looked at me, his
face showing a mixture of confusion and anger. Then he turned away,
shaking his head slowly.

Jane’s reaction was equally unenthusiastic.
She scooted her chair back from the table and, frowning, asked,
“How could you possibly run this place and raise three small
children? Why even bother to have them if you’re going to take on
something like this? If I had one--even one--you wouldn’t find me
anywhere but at home with him … or her.”

“I work
now
,” I pointed out.

“Some people like to work, Jane,” my father
said. “You have never been one of them, that’s all.”

“That’s true,” Buck said, laughing.

“If Daddy told you I was a bank robber,
you’d agree with him, wouldn’t you?”Jane asked petulantly.

“I would not, Jane,” Buck replied,
sulking.

“And I do too like to work,” Jane said. “I
run our home and I do tons of volunteer work: the Junior League,
the County Hospital Board, the Garden Club, the Church Guild. Who
raised all the money for your new courthouse park, Daddy? Me and
the other Garden Club girls, including Mother, that’s who.”

“I know you do your share, Jane, just like
your mother, but some people like to have real jobs,” Newell said.
“LuAnn needs to do more than the kind of ladies’ club stuff you do.
And she’s too smart and too good to work for other people. This is
a great opportunity for her to quit those pissantjobs she’s had to
take in Atlanta and have something of her own.”

I hadn’t complained that much, but my father
knew me well enough to know how unhappy I was with my work now, a
mishmash of odd jobs: gift-wrapping at Rich’s Department Store,
sitting for neighbors’ kids, waitressing at the Steak and Ale. I
was working toward a graduate degree in psychology but at the rate
I was going-with work and Jessie and soon the babies-I would be a
grandmother before I got my M.A. and, with it, any chance for a
challenging job.

“You remember Liz Reese, LuAnn,” Jane
continued ominously. “She started her own business when her son was
young and then her husband killed himself”

“She had a daughter, Jane,” my father said
harshly. “And that’s not why her husband killed himself Stick to
the Junior League and don’t go yapping about things you know
nothing about.”

“You’d just think that if you are blessed
enough to have children you’d want to be home with them,” Jane
said. Her last few words were barely audible. She crossed her legs
and, resting her elbows on her knees, dropped her face into her
hands and started to cry.

Jane had lost a little more perspective on
the subject of children with each of her four miscarriages, and I
didn’t blame her. It was a horrible fate for any woman, especially
one like Jane, who believed her sole purpose in life was to have
children. I worried sometimes that the ease with which Eddie and I
reproduced had increased her suffering and contributed to her
growing bitterness.

“Liz Reese was just about the best mother
I’ve ever known,” Newell said. “If you and Buck ever have children,
Jane, you’d better pray you’re half as wonderful a mother, half as
devoted, as Liz Reese was to her daughter. And your sister is doing
a damn fine job too. She just needs more help so she can do
something with her own life.”

“Who is this Liz Reese anyway?” I asked.
“She doesn’t live in Tallagumsa, does she?” I was relieved to move
to a subject other than the Steak House deed.

“She did,” my father said. “After her
husband, Dean, blew his brains out, she and her daughter moved
away. She’s the founder and owner of Miss Reese’s Pies.”

“You’re kidding,” I said. “She’s
the
Miss Reese! Wow! I read all about her in
Newsweek
last year.
But I don’t recall her mentioning anything about Tallagumsa.”

“She was only here a year. She left town as
fast as she could and never looked back,” Mother said from across
the room, where she stood next to Eddie at the bar.

“Just the way you should, LuAnn,” Eddie
said. “Follow her example and run.”

“How can you even consider this, LuAnn?”
Eddie asked as soon as we got into the car to drive home.

“Can we talk about it when you’re not
drunk?” I wedged myself behind the wheel of our old Buick Skylark
and pulled out of the parking space. Eddie was in the front seat
and Jessie in the back. I drove west to the end of the street,
circled the block, then picked up First Avenue going east out of
town.

“I’m not drunk,” he said. “Maybe I was, but
I’m sober as a judge right now. We are not moving here.”

We spoke in angry, loud whispers, hoping
that Jessie, who had waked up when Eddie carried her from the Steak
House to the car, wouldn’t hear what we were saying.

“Did I say we were?” I asked.

“No, but I know how your mind works.”

After a brief silence, he spoke again. “We
could sell the Steak House and keep the money.”

“No, we couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“We either run the Steak House or we thank
Daddy and give the restaurant back to him. I guess he’d sell it to
someone else.”

“
You
sell it. Your name is on that
goddamned piece of paper. You own the place!”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“I can’t believe you’d even for one second
think about raising our children in Klan country, redneck
heaven.”

“What happened to the gallant defender of
the South ready to die for her honor in front of that reporter?” I
asked. “Or did you just not like
him
?”

“As I said then, I’m allowed to give
constructive criticism because I’m a Southerner. Same as family
secrets, you know, they should be kept in the family.”

“You’re hardly an expert on family secrets,”
I said. I knew that was below the belt, but I couldn’t help myself
“Everyone in Tupelo knew each and every time your father was out on
a binge. Your mother made sure of that. And you aren’t that far
behind him drinking-wise, Eddie.”

“This isn’t about me and my father, LuAnn.
Your father
has been trying to get you to move home since
the day you left. He thrives on being surrounded by his admirers,
and you’re one of his most devoted. He’s probably thinking of the
campaign coverage he’ll get-the dashing mayor, his very beautiful
adoring young daughter, and all those precious grandchildren. Don’t
fool yourself This isn’t for you or the kids. It certainly isn’t
for us. It’s for him. Just like everything else he does. And he
hadn’t even told Gladys! What kind of marriage is that?”

“He wanted it to be a surprise.”

“More like a nuclear detonation. You saw
your mother. She was stunned. You know what she said to me? That he
had no right. Those were her words: ‘No right.’ From a doormat,
those are pretty strong words.”

“It’s his money.”

“Bull. He wouldn’t have any money if it
weren’t for your mother, but you’d never know it, the way he
acts.”

“Do you hold that against him too, that
Mother’s family had money and his didn’t? That’s ancient history.
What else did Mother say to you?”

“That taking the restaurant and moving to
Tallagumsa would be the biggest mistake you could make.”

“Look, Eddie, he offered us a business and a
house and a wonderful baby-sitter-Jolene, who raised me and Jane.”
We stopped at a red light and I looked at him. “This would mean no
more day care. Can’t you step back even for a second and see how
generous he is?”

“Manipulative, you mean. Controlling, you
mean. And then there’s the rest of them. I couldn’t live in the
same state as your sad, frumpy sister and her fool of a husband.
Buck can’t prostrate himself enough when it comes to your father.
And what’s all that celebrity crap? Paul Newman? Clint Eastwood?
The Marlboro man? He’s so full of it.”

“That’s just how Buck talks. It’s his way of
complimenting people he likes. Besides, you do look like the
Marlboro Man,” I said.

Eddie shrugged and smiled slightly. “Love is
blind, I guess.”

“You’re even more handsome than the Marlboro
Man,” I said. I had vague hopes of chamling him out of his
anger.

I looked in the rearview mirror. Jessie had
fallen asleep again. The light changed. I stepped on the gas and
drove in silence for a few minutes.