The Devil Has Dimples (18 page)

Lenny looked in my direction and saw my heated blush.

“Oh.”  He understood that something might not be a rumor.  I
hoped he didn’t guess what.  That would be embarrassing.

“Was there anything else said?”  Lenny asked.

“No.  I grabbed the baseball bat out of her hands and left. 
She came out after me, screaming at the top of her lungs that I was hers and
nobody was taking what was hers.”

“As I was walking to my car, she sprinted to hers first.”

He rubbed his knee.

“I didn’t think that she would actually hit me with her
car.”

Margie asked.  “Why would she do that?”

Grant shook his head.  “I honestly think that when she went
in reverse to get out of her driveway that she struck me accidently.”

I bet.

“But when she hit me again, I knew it was on purpose.”

Lenny jumped up as he shouted.  “She hit you twice!”

Grant grimaced.  “Yes, only twice.  But it feels like more.”

“You need to go to the hospital and get your head
examined?”  Lenny asked.

Undoubtedly, he needed his head examined.  He wasn’t
pressing charges.  What attorney would turn down a rock-solid case?  Then I
remembered that what might be said in front of the judge would be public
record, and I surely didn’t want my laundry flapping in the breeze.  As I’m
sure Grant doesn’t either.

So, off to the hospital we went.  Grant limping,

Fortunately, all he had were multiple scrapes and bruises.

I only had a bruised heart.

* * *

I heard Grant in the middle of the night.  It sounded as
though he was getting himself a bite to eat.

I just lay there in bed.  Too mentally exhausted to get up
and have a confrontation.  I needed some answers, and Grant wasn’t willing to
enlighten me.

The stars twinkled above my head.  Seemingly innocent.  Yet,
they had seen everything.  Eons of everything.

The phone rang.  The clock stated that it was ten o’clock. 
I thought it was midnight!

I almost didn’t want to answer it.  I needed some quiet. 
But I picked it up.  “Hello?”

“Sara?”

It was Bitsy.

“Bitsy?”

“Can I come over?”  She asked.

“I wish you would.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll be waiting.”  I hung up the phone.  Well, I might be
getting some answers to my questions soon.

I got out of bed.  It was a good thing I just fell into bed,
as I was already dressed.  I washed my face and combed my hair then left my
room.

The upstairs room was empty.  There was no light under
Grant’s door, so I slipped downstairs and waited for Bitsy.

It didn’t take her long to arrive.

I had the door open before she had a chance to knock.

“Can we talk down here?”  I asked.

She glanced up the staircase, knowing that I wanted privacy,
just by my question.

“Yes, it would be better.”

She certainly was a little woman, coming barely to my
shoulder.  She was wrapped in a coat, there being a slight chill outside.  She
took it off and folded it neatly.  Killing time with the niceties of life.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”  I asked.

The question seemed to startle her.  “Oh, no.”

She sat neatly on the love seat by the cash register.

“I’m sorry about Grant,” she said meekly.

“What about Grant?”

She looked at me nervously.

“Don’t you know?”

“That Tina ran him down with a car?”  I said.

“Yes.”

“Yes.  I know,” I said.

She looked at me solemnly, then sunk her head in her hands.

“I left Silas.”  Bitsy said.

I reached out and took her in my arms.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s because of you.”

“Me!  Why me?  What happened?  Where have you been?  How did
I get involved with your marriage?”  I’d finally lost my patience.  My voice
kept going higher after each question.

Bitsy smiled.  “You’re starting to sound like T-Jack.”

“Like T-Jack, I don’t have any answers just questions.”

She patted my hand.

“Neither do I.”

I groaned.

“Silas is so difficult.”

“That is truly an understatement,” I said.

“He’s a good man, but when he drinks, he gets unreasonable. 
He thinks that you’re spreading rumors about him.”

I couldn’t help it.  I laughed.  What a comedy of errors.

“It’s really not funny, Sara.”

I had to shake my head.

“No.  It’s not funny.  Why don’t you tell me what happened? 
Start with where you went.”

She lowered her head and her voice.

“I went to stay with my Mom for a few days.”

Her Mom!

“And?”

She looked exasperated.  “Silas hates for me to visit Mom. 
He calls her interfering and meddlesome.”

“Why did you go to see her?”

She looked at me with wide, childlike eyes.  “Mom knows
everything that happens around here.  I thought she might know who your father
was, I don’t believe Maudie would ever treat me bad by going with my husband,
but, I’m not too sure about Silas.”

Oh no.  It was worse than I thought.

“What did your mother say?”

“She wouldn’t talk to me.  She said I had to bring you.”

“Me?”

Bitsy frowned.  “I hesitated about telling you this, but I
honestly don’t know what to do anymore.”

She broke down and started to cry.  “Silas is angry with me,
I think our marriage is finally over.”

Good riddance, I thought.  But she looked so pitiful.  I
enclosed her in my arms and let her cry.  She was so thin.  I could feel the
tremors through her body.

“Did Naomi go with you?”

She snuffled, then looked up at me.

“No.  Why would she do that?”

Uh-oh, things were getting complicated.  “The word is out
that both of you went to Hot Springs.”

“Hot Springs?  We don’t do that until February.”

There was something definitely wrong here.  “So, Naomi isn’t
with you?”

“No.”  Bitsy hesitated, then asked.  “Where do you think she
might have gone?”

I thought about that for a moment.  “You got me.”

Bitsy shook her head.  “I haven’t a clue where she is.”

We sat, arm in arm for a moment longer.

“T-Beau misses you.  He’s worried.”

Bitsy sat up straight, and removed her arm from around me. 
She sighed deeply.  “Yes, I guess I better go home.”

Home.  Such that it was.  Silas might still be angry.  “You
can stay here the night if you wish.”

She shook her head.  “No, I don’t want to impose.”

I brushed aside her notion.  “It’s not an imposition.”

She seemed to think about it.  Then shook her head.

“No.  I better go and see if I still have a husband.”

I walked with her to the door, Bitsy turned as the door
opened.  “Tomorrow’s Sunday, would you go to Mother’s with me for dinner?”

I smiled briefly.  “Dinner would be wonderful.”

* * *

April 22, 1984

I went to Lafayette and found a doctor there.

He says that I am due in December.

December.  The happiest month of the year.

And I have to give my baby away.

I want a family that wants a baby.

Parents who will give my child love and happiness.

I don’t want to go through any agencies, they ask too
many questions.

I want someone who will accept my child.

I wonder.

I wonder.

I think I know someone who will love my child.

Grant wasn’t talking to me.

He’d been closed up in his bedroom all morning.  I peeked in
once, but he was sound asleep.

Considering his condition, I let him sleep.

He woke up around ten.  I could hear the shower running a
long time.  So I brewed a fresh pot of coffee and threw in the coffee cake I
made into the oven to warm it up.

But he didn’t come out of his room.

At eleven, I tapped on his door.

“Grant.”

Silence.  I sighed.  I hate confrontations.  But apparently,
we were headed for one.  It could wait until after dinner.  I went into my room
and got dressed in something suitable.  I certainly was getting tired of the
same few outfits.  I needed to go shopping again.  Or go home and forget about
Boggy Bayou, and Grant.

Needless to say, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. 
It seemed as though everyone was against me finding out who my birth father
was, and at this point, what difference did it make?  If he was in town, he
knew I was looking for him, and hadn’t stepped forward.

What if he had a family?  What if he was married when he had
an affair with Maudie?  I could understand those reasons for not stepping
forward.

Men have a different attitude concerning children than
women.  I wondered if he even knew Maudie had a child by him.  What if Maudie didn’t
know who the father was!

My mind was taking me nowhere.

I dressed.  Checking myself out in a mirror, I guessed I
looked presentable.  I wondered if I should bring something, so I wrapped up
the coffee cake.  Grant had his chance.

I trotted downstairs, placed the cake on the counter, and
decided to tackle the bookcase while waiting for Bitsy.

I grabbed a dust cloth, grabbed the handy-dandy little step
stool and wiped down the top of the bookcase.  There was a thin book on there
and I thumbed through it.  Poetry.  No notes included between the pages.  So I
threw it down on the top of Maudie’s empty desk.

I decided it would be easier to remove the books on the top
shelf, dust them, check out the insides, and replace them once the shelves were
cleaned.

I plopped down the first load and a cloud of dust raised up
in the air causing me to sneeze.

The doorbell rang, so I went out of the office, sneezing my
head off.

Bitsy was there.  I unlocked the door and turned to cough
into the dust cloth.  A bad choice.  It only worsened my condition.

Bitsy started to hit me on the back, asking, “You okay.”

I finally stopped.  “Yeah.”

“You ready to go?”  She asked.

I sighed.  I really didn’t want to, but felt like I was a
minnow in a flood.  I had to go.  Grabbing the cake off the counter, we took
off.

Maudie drove an old Volkswagen Beetle, painted orange.

“Nice car,” I said.

She looked at me dubiously, knowing I was being polite.

“It’s not like you to lie, Sara.”

She got me there.  Okay.  If she wants honesty.

“This is really a piece of junk, Bitsy.”

Her face broke into a thousand crinkles, and she started to
laugh.

“You got that right.  The thing is old enough to vote twice
over!”

“What’s with the paint job?”

She chortled some more, tried to catch her breath, but
failed.  “That damn Silas spray painted it with some paint that was on sale
down at the discount store.  That’s why it’s splotchy in spots.  Looks like
shit.”

Yes it did.  But it ran smooth enough, though the engine was
loud.  “At least you can find it in any parking lot.”

She patted me on the knee.  “You’re okay, Sara.  I needed a
laugh.”

“Well, seeing this car in your driveway every day, should
give you plenty of laughs.”

We turned into a driveway, there were three other cars
parked in front of us.

That made me nervous.

“Who else is going to be here?”  I asked.

Bitsy frowned as she looked at the cars in front of us.

“My parents.”

Her parents.  They were both alive!  Geez, how old were
they?

“T-Beau.  And Silas.”

I felt my stomach drop.  I didn’t want to fool with Silas
today.  In fact, I don’t think I ever wanted to see Silas again in this
lifetime.

“I guess your marriage is still on.”

Bitsy bowed her head in defeat.  “Yes.  Thankfully, he’d
rather live with me than without me.  He wasn’t going to come today, but he
must have changed his mind.  He hates to eat at Mother’s, but he knows that if
he’s here, we won’t talk about him.  But you know, I love him.  For all his
warts and worries, I love the lout.”

I reached over and squeezed her hand.  “I can understand
that I guess.  You have to go where your heart takes you.”

“You’re a sweet girl, Sara.  Very sweet,” she said.

I felt anything but sweet.  If anything, I felt snarly.  I
gritted my teeth, grabbed the cake, and opened the door.

If nothing else, I loved to punish myself.  And this would
definitely be a punishment.

We got out of the car and went up the walkway.  A few spider
lilies were blooming, waving their stalks in the air.  I wanted to turn around
and leave, but trudged onward.

Bitsy opened the front door and we stepped inside.

An elderly gent sat in a recliner and turned his head to see
us.  “Ah, Maudie’s daughter.”

He slowly got up and shuffled over to us.

“Sara, this is my dad, Mackie Marcotte.”  Bitsy said.

I held out my hand and he enveloped it in both of his
gnarled hands.

“My pleasure.  My pleasure indeed.”  He looked intently at
my face.  “You resemble her, you know.”

I smiled.  Maybe I could get some answers here.  “How?”

He tilted his head, then smiled.  “Around the eyes, I
think.”

“That’s kind of you to notice.”

He laughed.  “Don’t have much else to do anymore but
notice.”

He let go of my hands and shuffled back to his chair.  It
took him awhile to sit and get positioned correctly.  He lifted his hand and
motioned toward the back of the house.  “Mom’s in the kitchen.”

I followed Bitsy and stepped into a kitchen that was dated
back to the seventies at least.  The stove was avocado green.  Good smells were
going on.  T-Beau stood at the stove stirring a pot.  He glanced in my
direction and shyly said.  “Hi, Miss Sara.”