No Defense (9 page)

“Those are the good hormones. They just give
those out in the hospital too, if I remember correctly,” he
said.

“I wasn’t that bad last time, was I?”

“You were just exhausted. And this time will
be three times as hard.” He rubbed his hand across the stubble on
his chin.

“Did you get any sleep?” I asked.

He pulled up a chair next to my bed and
shook his head. “Instead I drove out to Six Flags this morning,
thinking I might apply for that job I told you about.”

“And I told you not to even think about
that,” I said. “You could never work there, Eddie. We’ll figure
something out.”

“We don’t have any choice,” he said. “We
need help. We need a bigger place to live. We need money. We have
three children. So I went to Six Flags. I watched four people
drawing these ridiculous pictures of tourists. Making a big nose
bigger, a cowlick higher, and on and on, people paying half-assed
artists to make them look stupider than they already look. For two
hours I sat at a picnic table in the shadow of this huge roller
coaster called the Cyclone, where people stand in line for hours
just to scare themselves silly.” He sighed. “You’re right, LuAnn. I
couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t work there. I’d be dead or crazy
within a year. So I have a proposal We’ll go to Tallagumsa for that
year instead and see how it goes.” He held up one finger. “One
year.”

Suddenly my mind was made up too. “Oh,
Eddie. Do you really mean it? You do! Tallagumsa will be wonderful.
I promise. How can it not be better?”

“Lots of ways,” he said. “Anyway, I stopped
at the Piggly Wiggly and got boxes. They’re in the car. And I got
this.” He opened the grocery bag and pulled out a pie, paper
plates, and plastic ware. “Miss Reese’s strawberry pie. I think we
should buy one every week after we get there to remind us that we
can leave; that if the time comes to leave, we go the way Liz Reese
did-as fast as we can and we don’t look back.” He cut a piece of
the pie and put it on a paper plate. “Pie, anyone?” he asked.

“Yes, please. I’m starving.”

He handed me the piece.

I leaned over and kissed him. “I love you,
Eddie Garrett.”

“One year,” he repeated. “I love you too,
LuAnn Hagerdorn.”

CHAPTER
SIX

As soon as Eddie left my hospital room, I
called my father for the second time in less than twenty-four hours
and gave him the latest good news: We’d be moving to Tallagumsa as
soon as we could pack and say good-bye to everyone.

“I have no idea how long that will take,” I
warned him, “with the twins and Jessie and all.”

“I’ll have your brother-in-law bring Jolene
to help you,” Daddy said. “And I’ll wire you a thousand dollars.
That should make the move a little less painful.”

Jolene Wilson had taken care of me since the
day I was born she was only sixteen at the time she started working
for us-and I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have sit for the
twins and Jessie. She was steady, loving, not a critical bone in
her body, and very physical, using hugs where most people used
words. She had been at the apartment for two days when Eddie
brought the twins and me home from the hospital. When we arrived
Jolene and Jessie were sitting on the front steps waiting for us,
Jessie’s head resting on Jolene’s shoulder.

Jessie ran down the steps to greet us. She
was dressed up in a flowered purple and white spring dress Jane had
sent while I was in the hospital and the patent-leather shoes she’d
worn to the courthouse dedication. I thought the shoes had been
ruined that day, but Jolene had worked some miracle on them and
they looked good as new. A purple ribbon kept Jessie’s hair out of
her face. She looked like an angel.

Jolene was right behind Jessie, her worn-out
work shoes old loafers with the heels stomped in so they looked
like bedroom slippers--slapping against each step and her
washed-out barely still green uniform stretched taut across her
chest and hips. Only four of the original six or seven buttons held
the uniform closed, providing triangular glimpses of the blue jeans
and madras blouse underneath. Except for her weight, which had
increased steadily over the years, she always looked the same to
me. Her chocolate-brown skin never seemed to age.

“Get away from there ‘til it stops,” Jolene
warned Jessie as the car rolled in. Jolene held Jessie’s hand and
gently pulled her back a few feet. As soon as I opened the car
door, Jolene released Jessie and she ran to hug me. Jolene was
close behind her, obviously desperate to get her hands on Will and
Hank. As far as she was concerned, babies made the world go
round.

“LuAnn!” she screamed. “You’re a sight,
girl, a sight! Them babies! Look at them! Give ‘em to me!”

Jolene opened the back door and took Will
out of his car seat. He scrunched his face up and began to cry. She
rested him on her chest and patted his back. He cried louder.

“He’s a crier,” Eddie said. He was busy
unloading the trunk: my overnight bag, two potted plants, and a bag
of all the stuff the hospital had given us for the babies-Pampers,
formula, instruction manuals, certificates of birth bearing the
babies’ footprints, and presealed glucose-water bottles. “He eats
and cries.”

“Well, he ain’t old enough to talk, bless
his heart,” Jolene said.

“Here,” I said, taking Will from her. “Why
don’t you get Hank out.”

Jolene removed Hank from his car seat. He
didn’t even open his eyes. She cradled him in her arms and
stared.

“He’s a sleeper,” Eddie said over his
shoulder from the front steps.

“They is something else,” Jolene said. “Both
of ‘em looks like you, LuAnn. But Jessie, you was the best-looking
and acting baby I ever saw.”

Jessie grinned. I knew Jolene would one day
tell each of the boys that they were the best too, but right now
what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

I took off my flats, using my right foot to
remove my left shoe and vice versa, and left the shoes next to the
pile of stuff Eddie was to bring into the house. The grass under my
feet and toes was cool and fine. With my free hand I picked one of
the enormous lilac chinaberry blossoms from the front-yard
tree.

“Our new house has two of these trees,
Jessie.” I handed her the fragrant flower. “Look, it goes with your
dress.”

She tucked the flower into her sash and
smiled.

Over the front door a piece of posterboard
hung from the trim. “Welcome Home” was written on it in red magic
marker. Several figures-one large, two small-had been colored below
the words. Eddie’s head brushed against the bottom of the poster as
he carried his load inside.

“Oooh! Who made that?” I stopped on the
porch to admire the sign.

“Me!” Jessie said. “I drew you and Will and
Hank. See, I even did Will’s birth color.” She pointed at a red dot
on the child’s thigh.

“It’s his birthmark,” I said. “You did a
wonderful job, Jessie.”

“Jolene helped,” she said.

I bent over to kiss Jessie in thanks,
lowering Will to the level of her face. He stopped crying and
looked at her. “See? He likes you,” I said.

“I know,” Jessie insisted. ‘Jolene told me
all about being a big sister.”

I hugged Jolene and kissed her cheek.
“You’re wonderful!” I said. “Only two days here and you’ve worked
miracles. As always. Thanks for coming to help. I don’t think I
would have been brave enough to leave the hospital if you weren’t
here.”

“I always take care of my babies,” she
said.

“Will and Hank appreciate it.”

“I mean you, girl,” she said. “You is my
baby. Get in that room and lay yourself down. You need your
rest.”

Inside the apartment, piles of newspapers and
open boxes covered the living-room floor. Many of the boxes were
already packed with books, records, tapes, and pictures. Despite
the move in-progress, the room was clean and organized.

“Who did all this?” I was astonished to see
how much work had been accomplished.

“All of us,” Eddie said. He pushed a box
aside and sat down on the living-room couch with a beer. “If we’re
going, we might as well go.”

“Look in my room,” Jessie said. “I packed
all my toys.”

“Then your mama gets in the bed,” Jolene
said.

“Okay,” Jessie said without complaint.

I was relieved at how easy this transition
was going to be. Jessie and Jolene had struck up a warm friendship
in a matter of days. Much of the packing was finished. Eddie,
although he seemed a bit distracted, was trying hard to get along.
He hadn’t said anything sarcastic about Tallagumsa or my family all
day, which took some effort on his part.

The sense of anticipation surrounding the
days leading up to our move reminded me of the summer before I left
for college. Then, as now, there were high expectations and also a
little sadness. Then, I was leaving my whole family behind, even
Jane, who’d left for college her freshman year but come home and
never returned after the summer semester. Then, I had not yet
admitted it to Junior, but I’d known September would mark the end
of our relationship as we headed off to different colleges.

Four seniors left town in 1969: Junior,
Barbara Cox, Billy Vines, and I. With my move back home, that would
make three out of four who’d returned. Barbara Cox had been lured
away from a teaching job at Vanderbilt to become dean at the state
college. Back in town a few months prior to Junior’s return, she’d
earned a reputation as an incredible fundraiser, a savvy recruiter
of talented professors, and the main reason out-of-state
applications at the college had tripled.

Because Barbara was very active in state
politics, I had been surprised when I didn’t see her at the
courthouse dedication, but I was even more surprised when Barbara
and Jane appeared at the apartment door in Atlanta six days after
the twins and I got home from the hospital.

That afternoon I was lying in Jessie’s bed,
desperate for a nap, when the doorbell rang. Although I was
exhausted after being up much of the night with Will, I quickly
forced myself up and ran for the door. I would do anything to avoid
the doorbell waking the twins.

Jane and Barbara stood on the front porch,
both in suits and heels. Jane looked frumpy; Barbara looked like a
poised and polished
Vogue
model. She had full pink lips,
aqua-marine eyes, and light blond hair blunt cut in a straight line
at her shoulders.

We all hugged and said hello.

“You look great, Barbara,” I said. She’d
always been attractive, but during high school when I’d last seen
her she was still carrying a lot of baby fat on her large
frame.

“You too,” Barbara said.

“How kind of you,” I said.

In fact, I looked dumpy, flabby, and
exhausted. I had on my nursing nightgown, with Will’s spit-up
decorating one shoulder, wore no makeup, and hadn’t washed my
stringy, dirty hair since we got home from the hospital.

“Buck thinks Barbara’s a dead ringer for
Cybill Shepherd,” Jane gushed.

Barbara waved her hand dismissively, but
something that flickered in her eyes told me how much she enjoyed
the compliment.

“Come on in,” I said. “Careful where you
step.” I cleared a path through the boxes. “Y’all sit over there.”
I gestured toward the couch and a chair.

“Congratulations on the twins,” Barbara
said, sitting in a faded armchair.

I’d never noticed how ratty the chair and
most of the other furniture in the apartment were until that
moment.

“Thanks,” I said. “They’re asleep right now,
so we have to be a little quiet. Would either of you like coffee or
something?”

“No, no. Just relax,” Barbara said.

I negotiated between a pile of books and
another of records, removed a box of framed pictures from a
comfortable chair, and sat down. I rested my feet on the
embroidered footstool.