Stardust A Novel (15 page)

T
wo days later I picked Mary Frances up from the hospital and took her to the Mercantile for new clothes and to Lovey’s Rexall Drug for toiletries. When we emerged, she eyed Ralph’s liquor store, but I took her elbow and gently guided her to the Ford.

She sat arms crossed, a scowl on her face, when I took the driver’s seat. “I’m an adult, perfectly capable of making my own decisions.” Her chin trembled.

I backed the car from the parking spot, hands tight on the wheel. “You know what Doc said. Alcohol is strictly forbidden with your medication.”

“A touch of gin would give me a great deal more pleasure than swallowing those nerve pills he prescribed.”

“I think you should try and tough it out. For Rosey and Avril, if nothing else.”

“It’s not what you think, Georgia.”

“What?”

“The fire.”

“What do you mean?”

She fidgeted in her seat like she had a hitch in her new underpants. “You assume I was intoxicated.”

“I didn’t say that.” Of course, I thought it! But no matter how I turned it over in my head, I had plenty of my own guilt for pretending her drinking wasn’t a problem. Mercy, I’d even helped her get the gin more than once.

“Why not call a spade a spade. It was my fault. But it wasn’t like you think.”

Her face softened, a look I hadn’t seen since she’d first held Rosey in her arms. The worry lines melted, and her eyes took on a faraway look.

I said, “The only thing that matters is that you made it out. Now we’ll concentrate on getting you better and decide what you want to do next.”

Her jaw tensed. “Just let me say it while I have the nerve. The fire was my fault, but it was an accident.”

“No one has said otherwise.”

“I was wanting a drink real bad, but whether you realize it or not, I was trying to quit the bottle. I’d cut way back and ran out a couple days before. I was getting pretty shaky, but I kept thinking about what you said about I ought to get out, get a job.”

“And you still can. I’m proud that you were trying to quit.” I gripped the steering wheel, unsure of her new tactics. Maybe she had more smoke damage than Doc thought.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think, bein’s no one comes around to see me anymore.”

Ouch!

“I was thinking of taking a little trip, maybe going down to see Bertha.” She let out a hacking cough into her fist. “Stupid fire’s clogged my lungs.”

“Go on. I’m listening.”

“It doesn’t matter now. My home is a pile of ashes, and right now, what I really need is a drink.”

“Probably not a great idea.”

“I know it’s not, but I’m trying to tell you what happened. I was back in the bedroom looking for the map to see how far it was to Corsicana. I thought I might take the bus, and while I was looking, I found a picture album of O’Dell when he was a tyke. It was during the Depression, you know, and we didn’t have two nickels to rub together, but there was O’Dell smiling and laughing, pulling a little wagon. I was on my own little trip back in time when I smelled the smoke. I admit, I must’ve left a cigarette burning in the ashtray—it’s the only thing I can figure out. But the smoke was already so thick I couldn’t see a thing. I ran out, and then I thought, well, why in tarnation didn’t I get that picture album? I ran back in with my hand over my face, but I was too late. The next thing I know is I’ve got a mask over my face and people all around me.”

My own throat clogged. How would I know she’d been trying? I hadn’t exactly been there to give her any moral support. I put my arm out the window to indicate I was turning into the Stardust and looked at Mary Frances.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry about your house.” My jaw twitched. Whether Mary Frances believed it or not, I did have her best interests at heart.

When Doc had given me the lowdown on Mary Frances, he’d told me, “The B12 shot and the vitamins will help in the short term, but getting her interested in life again will make the biggest difference. She and I go way back. Did you know she was one of the brightest kids ever went to Robert E. Lee school? She could do algebra in the fifth grade and memorized the entire Sermon on the Mount from Matthew. Pity to see her like this.” His face had a worn, sallow look, and he looked like he could’ve used a shot of B12 himself.

But his reminder of Mary Frances’s former genius had given me an idea. She might be poor in spirit at the moment, but I was going to put her to work in the office. Not sure how that lined up with the beatitudes, but it was all I had at the moment.

Avril ran up to the car the minute we arrived. “MeMaw. Come look. I have a surprise.”

Mary Frances stepped into the sunlight, patted Avril on the cheek. “That’s nice, but what on earth is that infernal pounding noise?”

I hurried to her side. “We’re getting the roofs replaced. It’s darn near a miracle the way Peter and Catfish have put new shingles on half the cottages already. Another couple of days and they’ll be done.”

“I won’t get a speck of rest with that hammering. Where’s my room?”

“Right this way.”

Sebastian, now Avril’s shadow, followed behind, tail wagging. When we got to the cottage, Mary Frances stopped, put her hand to her chest. “O’Dell used to have a mutt almost like that. I’d forgotten until just this minute. You know, I’m not sure about staying here.” She nodded in the direction of Zion. “Reminders everywhere of O’Dell. I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble, but maybe I should get a room at the hotel downtown.”

I shook my head. “You know what Doc said. I’m to take good care of you. Three square meals a day and plenty of rest and sunshine. The reminders are here for me, too, but I’m trying to dwell on the present and not the past.”

“Easy for you to say. You have the girls. I have nothing.”

“You have us, Mary Frances. Now come in and see your room.”

The room was as homey as I could make it. A few pictures of the girls I’d taken from my quarters. One of O’Dell in his business suit, a sober expression on his face. I’d found a small bookcase at the thrift store and stocked it with magazines and one of the sets of
The Book of Knowledge
I’d retrieved from O’Dell’s trunk.

Avril tugged on Mary Frances’s arm. “Come on. I want you to see what I made.”

I ushered us in while Avril went straight to the bed and picked up the picture she’d drawn of three stick figures. At first I thought it was her, Rosey, and me, but on a closer look I saw the larger figure had black springy hair. Merciful.

Mary Frances studied it. “Gracious, you drew a picture of a colored girl. Where did you ever get such an idea?”

“It’s Merciful. She’s my friend. Her mommy helped get your room fixed. Do you like the picture?”

“It’s nice. Thank you, Avie.” Her eyes scanned the room. “I don’t see an ashtray. You surely don’t expect me to give up smoking, too.”

Shrugging, I said, “I was hoping you might limit the smoking to the outside since the weather’s nice. I’ll see about getting you a lawn chair to keep in the shade. The fresh air will be good for you.”

“The only thing good for me right now is some peace and quiet.”

I put my arm around her sloped shoulders and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Welcome home.”

Strangely enough, the Stardust felt more like home than I’d dared to hope. Steady progress on the cottages thanks to the hard work of Peter and Ludi, along with her children, made the vision of opening by Memorial Day more of a reality each day. Mary Frances joined us for meals, and except for the occasional complaint about the hammering, she seemed to be gaining ground.

And every evening, after reading to the girls and tucking them in to bed, I’d take a glass of sweet tea out to my back steps. The night sounds of cicadas and the murmurs of songbirds settling onto their roosts were like a sweet benediction to the day. Working from dawn to dusk had its satisfactions in the progress on the cottages, but it had brought a few surprises, too. Namely Peter Reese.

I hadn’t expected to find myself watching him as he joked with Catfish, hoping he’d cast a wink in my direction. And when I had a decision to make, his opinion was the one I sought. It wasn’t that I wanted the complication of a man in my life, and certainly not one who would be gone in another few weeks, but I trusted his judgment, and he was never pushy, demanding, or one to be disagreeable. Yet he maintained an air of mystery when it came to himself that, darn it all, I found compelling.

Night after night, I retreated to my steps on the back porch, and in my gut I knew it wasn’t to drink in the scent and sounds of the bayou but to listen to the sweet strains of the guitar Peter played at his own front door. Haunting melodies like “Oh Shenandoah” or “Danny Boy.” And I would imagine the long slender fingers callused from driving nails by day as they moved effortlessly over the guitar frets.

Often I would hum along and once stood and danced
one-two-three
as Peter played “The Tennessee Waltz.” Sally would say I had it bad, but then Sally had a respectable man who came home at night. One who hadn’t been born with the unfaithful gene.

By day, I blushed at my evening thoughts and pushed to get the work done. But as dusk settled over the Stardust, an ache in my chest returned, and one evening I found myself hurrying the girls along with their evening baths, making them do the chin touch after we said their prayers, and hoping all the while I wouldn’t miss whatever tunes Peter chose to play for the night. Just as I headed out the door with my tea in hand, the phone rang. Expecting it was Aunt Cora with another reported case of polio in Musgrave County, I almost didn’t answer it. A pall had hung in the air ever since a three-year-old boy from the lumber camp not six miles up the road had been diagnosed. Now everyone walked in fear it might be their child next. Newspapers shouted new stories every day about the outbreak, now called an epidemic. People were warned to stay inside during the heat of the day, not to go near water, never to drink from public water fountains, and to have their children do the “chin touch” at every meal and when they said their prayers at night.

It was a real threat, I knew, but I was determined not to let fear get the best of me. Personally, I believed the best way to bring disaster on yourself was by dwelling on it. And that night I was weary from dwelling on it, so I decided to ignore the phone. Then Rosey hollered from her bed, “Telephone, Momma!”

It wasn’t Aunt Cora but a woman who asked to speak to Peter Reese, if he was available.

“If this is long distance, you may want to call back; it’ll take a few minutes to get him.”

“I’ll wait.” Sweet, high-pitched voice. Not the voice of a mother, but then I remembered Peter mentioning his mother had passed.

Peter had a fresh-shower smell, his hair still damp and curling at the tops of his ears when I fetched him and we hurried back to the office. I turned the phone around for him to talk from the lobby side, then slipped into the quarters to give him privacy.

He knocked softly on the door a few minutes later. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

I joined him in the office. “Glad to. Hope it was good news.”

He shook his head. “Actually, I need to leave sooner than I thought. I’ll ask Cecil tomorrow about my car. If he hasn’t got the parts, I may have to catch the bus to San Antonio.”

My stomach pinched, the tiniest bit of alarm. “An emergency?”

He chewed on his lower lip and nodded. “I know this might put you in a bind and all, and I know the roofing job is a couple of days away from being done.”

“If something’s come up, then you need to go.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked at the phone. “I probably shouldn’t have given your number for private business. This is something I have to do. Betty says it’s my last chance. Now or never.”

Betty.
The girl on the phone. Things made more sense now. Guys who are in love don’t look at other women. And to Peter, I wasn’t a woman… just a boss. It was a relief in a way. Good to find out before I let myself get carried away.

[ CHAPTER 18 ]

O
n Monday afternoon, Sally, just back from Houston, paid us a visit to check on the progress of the new landscaping. She looked stunning in a cream-colored sundress with cap sleeves and a gold lamé belt cinched at the waist.