Stardust A Novel (35 page)

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got all night.”

“Well, it all started when Grandfather Tickle died…”

I told him about being abandoned and the frustration of never knowing why my parents left. I then showed him Doreen’s letter, which he read with a scowl on his face.

“The answer is here at the Stardust?”

“Apparently. I’m not sure I even want to know anymore, and now it seems that Doreen and Paddy knew all along. I trusted them, and they didn’t tell me. I’ve gone through most of my life thinking I’m flawed in some way and that’s why people leave me.”

He draped his arm around my shoulder and nuzzled my neck. “If it’s any consolation, you’d still be the same beautiful woman whether you know why your parents left or not.”

“In my head, I know you’re right—not necessarily beautiful—although it’s sweet of you to say so. I think it’s more that I always thought it was my fault.” My hand toyed with the front of his shirt and through the cotton I felt his muscles ripple, taut against ribs.

“You were a child. And no one leaves a child without a good reason.”

“That’s what puzzles me. Aunt Cora has chosen to not tell me, an action Paddy and Doreen condoned. It makes me think they must’ve had something to do with it.”

In the crook of his arm and with my face against his chest, I could feel his heart beat steady and strong. I lifted my chin and wrinkled my nose. “I’m starting to sound like an echo, saying the same things over and over.”

“I like to hear you talk, but if it’s bothering you, I have a fix for it.” His free hand cradled my face as his lips found mine and grazed them ever so gently.

My breath caught, and I knew I wanted nothing more than for Peter to kiss me again and again. He must’ve read my mind, for his lips were sweet and tender, then full on mine, and for the moment, nothing else in all the world mattered.

The following morning, the girls were teaching Merciful how to play Go Fish, so I grabbed a second cup of coffee and went to the office to give Aunt Cora a call.

She asked me about Avril and then said, “I’ve been expecting you to call.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because of the absurd idea Van Sweeney’s got up his sleeve.”

“You mean expanding the Stardust into a retreat center?”

She sniffed. “I’m not opposed to the general idea, but he needs to think twice about the Stardust.”

“The setting is ideal with the cottages we already have.”

“It would only disrupt your lives further. You and the girls don’t need that.”

“Is it because of the Stardust or Mr. Sweeney himself?”

“We know nothing about Van except he appeared out of thin air with a grandiose plan.”

“He’s familiar with Mayhaw and the Stardust. He’s been open about saying he’d been here before and has fond memories. I didn’t know until last night, though, that you’d met him before.”

“It was ages ago. I wasn’t even in the tenth grade.”

“You must’ve made quite an impression for him to remember you.”

“We were a bunch of silly girls, giggling because he winked at us from the stage.”

“You’re not a silly girl now. And last night, I got the distinct impression Mr. Sweeney is still interested in you.”

“What he’s interested in doesn’t concern me in the least. With my schedule, if Cary Grant walked in the front door right now, I’d have to tell him to come back next week.”

“I know you’re busy, so I’ll get back to the point. Would you—and the March of Dimes—be willing to support the retreat center if I agreed to it? I think it would be wonderful for people like Fiona, her sister Inez, and the kids.”

“You don’t even know if Fiona will make it out of the iron lung. Some don’t, you know.”

“Sadly, that’s true. I was only using them as hypothetical examples. And I would want to discuss it with Hugh Salazar before I give a definite answer.”

“It’s obvious Van has you convinced.”

A commotion broke out in the quarters, and Avril ran into the office. “Rosey said come get you. We can’t get the drawer unsticked in our room.”

I put my hand over the mouthpiece. “I’m talking to Aunt Cora. Go try again.”

She stuck out her lower lip. “I want the fish Catfish maked for me, and the drawer won’t open. Please.” She batted her lashes and lowered her chin, and I knew tears would follow.

“Aunt Cora, I need to go. Won’t you think about what it would mean for families?”

“I’m trying to, Georgia. Give the girls a hug.”

Avril pulled on my hand and took me to their room. It was a drawer in the wardrobe that was stuck. The hulking piece of furniture Doreen left behind still smelled of mothballs when it rained, so I didn’t let the girls keep their clothes in it. It had come in handy for all their other belongings. The drawer in question would only open an inch, with all the coloring pages and assorted junk jamming it.

“Are you sure your fish is in here?” I looped my finger in, trying to find it.

“Yes. I put it there when MeMaw made us clean our rooms.”

Rosey looked in the dark depths of the drawer. “I can see it.”

“I’ll get a coat hanger and see if I can hook it.”

Avril started laughing. “You’re funny, Mommy. You’re going to hook my fish.”

“I’m going to try. And you’re right, that is funny.” I worked the hanger around and thought I had it, so with a firm hold, I wiggled the drawer, trying to dislodge the cypress fish. The drawer popped open with a crack of wood splintering. I handed the prized possession to Avril and looked to see what I’d broken.

The bottom of the drawer had split, but something seemed odd. I removed the contents of the drawer and discovered that the shattered wood concealed a shallow compartment.

My neck veins throbbed, the pressure like a noose tugging at my jaw. Doreen had left the wardrobe hoping I would discover its secret. My lungs had run out of air, leaving a half-dizzy, half-silly bubbling in my head. My fingers worked to remove the rest of the splintered bits, but already I could see the edges of a photograph and a paper with blurred ink.

Scooping up the items in my hand, I stumbled back to Rosey’s bed and sat down. Either I had found some long-forgotten relic that meant nothing or I had struck gold.

I prayed it wasn’t fool’s gold.

[ CHAPTER 42 ]

M
ommy, what’s wrong?” Rosey’s voice was far away, like she was shouting through water.

I thought I was drowning myself. That my arms and legs couldn’t get the oxygen to continue splashing. My lungs burned as I stared glassy-eyed at the paper in my hand.

My birth certificate. At least the date of my birth was correct.
May 1, 1927.
And my first and middle names.
Georgia Lee.

My stomach heaved.

Birth mother: Cora Tickle

Age of mother: 16

Birth father: Unknown

Rosey stood close, her body warm next to my shivering one. She waved a photograph in front of my face. “Momma, why’s there a picture of me when I was little?”

“Why?” That was the question.
Why? Oh Lord Jesus, why?

“I don’t know, Rosey… it’s not you. Look, you’ve never had a dress like that. It’s not you.” My voice was sharp. No one else was in the picture, only me standing beside the car of my childhood dreams. I took the picture from her, rage bubbling up from the depths.

Aunt Cora.
My mother. This time she would give me the answers.

Now. Before I lost my nerve. And my breakfast.

“Rosey, go find Ludi and tell her I have to run an errand. You girls mind what she tells you.”

I didn’t wait for her response, just grabbed my purse, my birth certificate, and the photograph. My hands grew numb from gripping the steering wheel, and I don’t remember the drive over to State Street and Mara Lee. Quivering legs carried me to the back door. I flung it open and saw something hurtling through the air toward me.

Glass shattered against the doorjamb. Aunt Cora stood wide-eyed and poised with another one of Grandma Tickle’s china plates.

“I told you—” Her jaw dropped, her mouth trying to form words. She blinked, let her hand with the plate drop to her side, and winced. “Sorry. I thought you were that miserable Van Sweeney sneaking back in.”

“What’s gotten into you, Aunt Cora? Or maybe I should be saying Momma.” I waved the birth certificate through the air.

“Oh, my.” Her face turned white. “He’s already told you. How? He left here not three minutes ago. What were you doing? Listening at the keyholes again?” She laughed, a tinny cackle. “You were good at that when you were younger.”

She looked at the plate in her hand, reared back, and hurled it, too—not at me, but at the open door. It shattered on the porch railing, the china bits like a wind chime ruffled by a sudden breeze.

“I was not listening at the keyhole.” My nostrils flared as I breathed through them. “And why are you breaking Grandma Tickle’s dishes?”

She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, her face contorted. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“How could you? You had a million opportunities to tell me you were my mother, and you never let on. Not once. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you. All this time, I thought it was my parents who were ashamed or hated me. Now I see you must have despised waking up every day and having to face whatever shame I’d brought to you.”

My breaths came out in huffs. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to endure my presence any longer. I will disappear from your life. I’ll give up the Stardust and take the girls somewhere else.”

“No. Please. Let me explain—”

“You had your chance.”

I turned to go, my heart leaden, questions still slamming against my skull like the steel balls in a pinball machine.

Aunt Cora grabbed my arm, her fingers biting into my flesh. “You’re right. I had a chance to give you up. As a matter of fact, my father thought I did. But I couldn’t. It didn’t matter that I was sixteen years old and your father didn’t even know you existed. I couldn’t do it. Never. Please. Hear me out.”

This wasn’t the poised, always-in-perfect-control Aunt Cora I knew. Her veneer had cracked, and I saw a tired, desperate shell of a woman.

I removed her hand from my arm and through clenched teeth said, “Only because I would regret it forever if I didn’t hear the story, I’ll listen.”

“Come. I’ll fix us a cup of tea.”

“Don’t bother, but I would like to sit down.”

We sat facing each other at the breakfast table. Two half-empty cups sat on the table, the remnant of Van Sweeney’s visit and the cause of Aunt Cora’s outburst. I knew he must be the unknown father, but I had to hear it from her own lips. An unnatural calm spread over me; I was ready to hear what she had to say.

She folded her hands on the table. “You had to have known my father to understand. He was harsh, controlling, and ruled our home with an iron fist. My poor mother endured his rants with grace, and I believe now it was an act of mercy that God allowed her to pass from this earth when I was twelve years old. My sister, Justine, took her death hard and started standing up to Father. They went round and round until he kicked her out and told her he never wanted to see her again. She left home when she was seventeen and married Gordon Mackey. They lived in Kipling, but Justine would still visit her friends in Mayhaw once in a while. She was wild and daring, not always in a good way.

“I was left to handle Father. The summer I was fifteen, I wanted to go with my friends to see the touring vaudeville act, but Father wouldn’t let me. As luck would have it, he was called to Shreveport on business, so I went anyway. Three nights in a row. The last night, my friends heard of a party at the Stardust, and I was afraid to go because Uncle Paddy might see me. But when Van Sweeney, the one I had my eye on, asked me to come, I did.

“Some of the guys brought liquor. I’d never had a drink in my life, but that night I did. It felt so liberating. At first we were all just laughing and dancing, but then people started pairing off. I started feeling sick and went to the bathroom in one of the cottages. When I came out, Van was waiting for me. He’d been drinking, too, and…” Tears brimmed in her eyes.