The Book of Bright Ideas (24 page)

“Mrs. Peters, this is very awkward for me…” Hannah Malone said, as she helped herself to a piece of coffee cake.

“Well,” Aunt Verdella said. “This is awkward for me too. My, I didn't want to start up any trouble or get involved. I was just tryin' to do something nice. You see, I had money saved for a color television set, but then—”

“Mrs. Peters,” Hannah Malone said. “I need you to tell me how to find my Winnalee. I know from Mrs. Hamilton that she and Freeda are here in Dauber, and I know about the horrible lie Freeda told about me being dead. Why, this has all taken a horrible toll on my health the last few years, worrying about if they were alive or dead. So uncomfortable or not, I hope you'll tell me what I need to know.”

In fourth grade, a boy made a volcano out of flour and water stuff for his science project. When he blew in the tube at the bottom, some gunk that was supposed to be lava came spewing out. That's what I thought of when Hannah Malone's tears erupted into big sobs after she mentioned the part about her worrying about if Freeda and Winnalee were alive or dead: a big, white mountain rumbling and lurching, and then tears gushing out like hot lava.

Aunt Verdella always cried when she saw somebody else cry, so her eyes teared up the second Hannah Malone started in. “Button, would you go to the bathroom and get the Kleenex?”

I didn't know how much she wanted or how to get the crocheted lady off of the Kleenex box, so I just grabbed the doll and brought it into the kitchen. I set it on the table between Aunt Verdella and the fat lady. Aunt Verdella grabbed one for herself and some for Hannah. She patted Hannah's arm after she handed them to her.

“Please tell me what you know, Mrs. Peters,” Mrs. Malone said. “I beg of you.”

Aunt Verdella looked like a little kid sitting next to Hannah Malone. Not just because (in spite of her snowball middle) she looked tiny sitting next to that mountain of a woman, but because of the way she sat. With her hands folded on her lap and her head half dipped down. “Well, I'm finding myself in quite a pickle now, aren't I? I mean, I love Freeda and Winnalee like family. And now here I am, right in the middle of some family trouble I don't even understand. I feel awkward saying a thing. I hope you can understand that.”

I tried not to stare at Hannah Malone's hand as she brought her fork down to her plate, but how could I not, with the strap of her silver watch almost buried in a crease of fat that hung over it like a puffy, too-long sleeve? “Mrs. Peters. Are you a mother?” Hannah Malone's voice was high like a girl's and jagged with tears.

I flinched inside when she asked that. Aunt Verdella shook her head. “No. Though Button here is my niece, and I couldn't love her more if I'd given birth to her myself.”

“Well, then you know all about loving a child. If you understand, it might be easier for you to tell me what I need to know.” I moved back from the table until I ran into the wall, then slid against it and out of the kitchen. I hovered just around the corner, standing in the dining room. I knew that if I stayed out of sight and kept quiet, no one was likely to notice me and ask me to go outside so I couldn't hear the grown-ups talk.

“You know Freeda, you say. Well, if you know her at all, then you know how headstrong she is. She was like that from the day she was born. Always contrary. Always opinionated and having to have her own way. A redhead in every sense.

“She was a handful from the start, but by the time she was thirteen, she was so wild I couldn't control her. I can't tell you the times I laid awake praying for that girl.” I heard Hannah Malone sniffle, then I heard the scrape of a fork against a plate. I peeked around the corner just as Hannah was leaning back in her chair—well, the best she could, anyway.

“I can't tell you the gossip I suffered through.” She burst into more tears. “I tried to raise her right, bringing her up in a good Christian home, but it didn't matter. It was like the devil himself burrowed into that girl early, and nothing I could do could drive him out of her.”

“Ohhhh,” Aunt Verdella said. “I wouldn't say that about Freeda. Why, she might be a little rough around the edges, but she is a sweetheart. An absolute dear.”

Hannah Malone grunted, like people do when they don't agree.

“She got in the family way when she was only fifteen,” Hannah Malone said, her words muffled from the mouthful of cake she chewed. “You can imagine how mortified and heartsick I was. Why, she couldn't even tell me who the boy was. Her daddy was gone by then, or I can assure you, he would have given her a thrashing.”

Aunt Verdella put her hand up to her cheek and sat back in her chair. “Mrs. Malone, are you saying what I think you're saying?”

Mrs. Malone kept on talking, as if Aunt Verdella hadn't said a word. “I thought about sending her away to a school for, well, you know, unwed mothers, but I knew there wasn't a lock that could keep that girl inside an institution for the duration of her confinement. What choice did I have? My sister told me to force Freeda to put the baby up for adoption, because we knew that Freeda wasn't gonna take care of a baby. I did try to talk her into it, but she wouldn't hear of it. Not because she wanted that baby, I don't think, but because Freeda always turned her nose up at any suggestion I made.”

Aunt Verdella's eyes were still big, and her hand was holding her chest. “Mrs. Malone. I'm…I'm a bit rattled here, so help me out. Are you saying that Winnalee is
Freeda's
child?”

“Well, by birth, yes, but in no other way, I guarantee you! Freeda was gone within two weeks after Winnalee was born. Two weeks! My sister and brother and every one of my friends thought I was crazy, taking care of a newborn while I was in such poor health, but what could I do?”

I dipped my head out of the doorway again and stood with my back against the dining room wall until I could catch my breath, then I peeked back into the kitchen.

“Hard work or not, that baby was everything to me,” Hannah said. “She was so beautiful, and smiley all the time. Just so full of love. My husband was dead and gone, and my daughter all but dead to me. Why, that sweet baby kept me from curling up and dying.”

Aunt Verdella's eyes were still opened wide and blinking fast, but even so, she patted Hannah Malone's puffy hand, as tears curled over Mrs. Malone's cheeks.

“Can you imagine how upsetting it was for me to have Freeda show up out of the blue, after five whole years?
Five years?
She came into town every bit as unexpectedly as she left it and said that she was taking Winnalee with her. Imagine! She wouldn't tell me where she'd been or where she planned to go. She wouldn't even tell me if she had the means to take care of a little girl. Nothing! What reason did I have to believe that she'd grown up at all or repented her sins and settled into a decent life? Of course, I told her she couldn't take Winnalee. And what? See that little girl grow up every bit as bad as her mother?”

Hannah Malone sniffled, coughed a bit, then continued. “We argued, of course, because I was beside myself at the thought of losing my baby girl. I tried to reason with Freeda, and when that didn't work, I told her she was welcome to move back home or leave alone but that she couldn't take my Winnalee. I needed that child!”

“Oh my,” Aunt Verdella said.

“She stormed out of the house. I was hoping she'd left for good at that point. But I knew better. She hadn't taken her suitcase, only her purse. She came home drunk and foulmouthed in the middle of the night and started in on me all over again. How could I have in good conscience turned that precious little girl over to someone who it was clear hadn't mended her ways at all?

“I couldn't bear the thought of that little girl growing up thinking that her own mother had abandoned her, so when Winnalee started calling me Ma, I didn't correct her. And for good reason. Christmas would come, Winnalee's birthday, and not so much as a card in the mail,” Mrs. Malone said. “I thought it was better if she thought I was her mama, so at least she'd feel she had one.” Aunt Verdella put her arm around Hannah Malone—as far as it would reach anyway—and gave her a squeeze.

Hannah Malone was blubbering now, her whole body shaking. “Freeda thought I'd tried to turn Winnalee against her by having her call me Mama, but I never did such a thing. Freeda's pictures were up, and I told Winnalee that that was her big sister, who was working in the city, and that soon she'd come pay us a visit. Winnalee's an imaginative child, which I'm sure you know, and she concocted a story for herself, thinking that her pretty sister was a movie star. Even at four, she'd put on little shows for me, saying that when she grew up, she was gonna be a movie star just like Freeda.”

Hannah sounded so wheezy that I'm sure Aunt Verdella thought she'd choke to death, so she told Hannah to take a breath. “And I think I'd better do the same,” Aunt Verdella said. Hannah sucked in her breath and blew her nose some more.

“When Freeda ran away, leaving Winnalee behind, I had to bear up with the gossip before it settled down. After a time—well, because everybody in town respects me for the Christian woman I am, I suppose—they actually seemed to forget that Winnalee was really Freeda's child. I forgot sometimes too.”

“Well,” Aunt Verdella said, “I know even with my niece I can forget sometimes that she's not mine. So I can only imagine.”

At the mention of my name, my breath sucked in and I backed away from the door opening again, sure Aunt Verdella would look up and see me and realize I was standing nearby being all ears.

“Well, and you can imagine how the gossip flew after Freeda came and took Winnalee away. Everyone in town, of course, heard about how Freeda went to the school, saying that I was dead and she needed to take Winnalee out immediately. What could Winnalee's teacher do but release Winnalee to her? She'd taught Freeda, and she knew Freeda was Winnalee's mother, so she knew Freeda had every right to take her.

“Mrs. Peters…may I call you Verdella?” Aunt Verdella told Hannah she could. “Verdella, you can imagine how shocked and hurt I was to learn that Freeda had told my little Winnalee that I was dead. Telling the teacher that was bad enough, but to tell Winnalee such a horrible lie too? Oh, it just pains me to think of it. And then to hear from Mrs. Hamilton that that poor little girl is still so devastated that she can't bear to part with me and carries around an urn that she believes contains my ashes? My God, is there no length of cruelty that my daughter will go to to hurt me? And doesn't she care that she hurts Winnalee in the process?” Hannah Malone paused then, as if she was waiting for Aunt Verdella to answer her.

“It broke my heart too, to see poor Winnalee carrying around those ashes,” Aunt Verdella said. “You can see, then, can't you, why I went to Hopested to buy that stone and plot?” I peeked around the corner again.

“Verdella, I'm sure in view of what I've told you, you can see that telling me how to find them is the only right thing to do.”

Aunt Verdella's hand came up to fidget with the neckline of her housedress. “Oh dear. I've put myself in such a quandary. My husband, Rudy, he tells me all the time to stay out of other people's business. Oh dear, I feel so on the spot.” Aunt Verdella glanced at the back door. The heavy rain had changed into a softer, steadier rain, and I knew that Aunt Verdella was worried that Winnalee would show up at any minute.

“And what do you plan to do, if I may ask, if I tell you where Freeda and Winnalee are? Go to them out of the blue? Oh my, it would be the shock of Winnalee's life! She believes you're her mama, and she believes you're dead. She's carried you everywhere for five years now. She's just a little girl, Hannah, and if Freeda is her birth mother, then…”

Aunt Verdella spread her arms wide. “Do you think Freeda would change her mind and turn Winnalee over to you now? Is that what you're hoping for? She wouldn't, you know. She loves that child something fierce!”

My mind was nothing but a mixed-up mess by now. I didn't know what to do or what to think, only that I didn't want Winnalee showing up to get the shock of her life, and I didn't want Winnalee to go away. I turned around and leaned against the wall, the taste of blood against my tongue.

“I don't think it's for you to decide, Mrs. Peters. Freeda is my daughter and Winnalee is my granddaughter. I deserve the peace of mind that only seeing Winnalee will give me.”

I didn't need to see Aunt Verdella's face to know that she was probably glancing at the door, wishing that Uncle Rudy would walk through it and tell her what to do.

I leaned my face so close to the door frame that I could feel my warm breath, and I slid to the side slowly so that only one eye peeked into the kitchen. Aunt Verdella was still fussing with her neckline. “I don't mean to be disrespectful or difficult, Mrs. Malone, but this has all come as a shock to me. I'm afraid that the best I can do for now is to tell Freeda that you're in town and try to coax her to talk to you alone first. No matter how you feel, or how Freeda feels, Winnalee's the one we need to think about right now. You can't just go show up on their doorstep, Hannah, without that child being prepared somehow.”

Mrs. Malone's arms flung up shoulder-high, then slammed down on the table. “You go telling Freeda I'm in town, and she'll be gone before you can even get all the words out!”

“Well, I'm sorry,” Aunt Verdella said. “But that's the best I can do. I would imagine you're staying here in town tonight?”

“I plan to check in at the hotel at the end of Main Street,” Hannah said. “This drive has been too much for me. Especially while I'm in this emotional state.”

“Okay,” Aunt Verdella said. “Then I'll bring Freeda over to Daverson's Motel in the morning, if she agrees to see you. I can't exactly say what time.”