The Devil Has Dimples (20 page)

It was old, but well cared for.  Two massive multi-flowering
red rose bushes flanked the steps.  Two rocking chairs sat on the porch.  The
door opened just as I was beginning to knock.

Alice stood there.  A huge smile on her face.

I felt my tension relaxing.  I was tired of all the
melodrama.  I really wanted to find out who my father was and leave.  The whole
process was draining me.

She opened the door fully and invited me in.  “Oh, girl. 
You are so lucky!”

I felt lucky.  Like the rabbit who has his left hind foot
taken off.

Inside was a gnome of woman.  She was mushed into a wheelchair
with a lace doily perched on her head.  She looked to be a zillion years old,
and about four feet tall.  There wasn’t a wrinkle on her face.

But her hands told her life story.  They were gnarled, worn,
totally misshapen.  They were beautiful in their ugliness.

She grasped a rosary in her hand, slowly moving from one
bead to the next.  Her eyes never left mine.

They were friendly and warm.  As though she waited a long
time for me to come, and I finally arrived.

“This is Aunt Weez.”  Alice said.

I held out my hand to her and she took it in both of hers. 
They were warm and dry, and she held on.

I knelt by her wheelchair, waiting for her to loosen her
grasp on me.

Her gaze swept over my face, lingering, analyzing,
searching.

I wondered what she saw in me that was so interesting.

She raised one of her hands to my face and traced my eyebrow
with her fingertip.  Then took a lock of my hair and felt its weight.

“You remind me of someone,” she said.

I felt myself become tense again.

She smiled.  “It’s been a long time, but I remembers this hair.”

She patted me on the head.  I was dismissed.

I slowly stood up and glanced at Alice.

I know she could see the question in my eyes.

“Come sit.”  Alice said.

So, I sat.

“Aunt Weez was telling me about Maudie.  She was her
housekeeper for a brief spell, when Maudie was sick.”

Maudie was sick?  All I’d been hearing about was this
vibrant ball of energy. 

“When was this?”

Aunt Weez started to talk.  “That be about the year my Rufus
died.  What year was that Alice?  I forgets.”

Alice glanced my way.  “The year you were born, in the early
spring.”

My heart began to hammer.

“Maudie was an independent soul.  Never did need help.  But
for a while there she was sicker than a dog.”  Aunt Weez started to push beads
with her fingertips.

A buzzing started in my ears.

“She couldn’t keep any food down.  Could hardly get out of
bed at all.”

Click, click, click went the beads in her hands.

Thump, thump, thump went my heart.

“I told her she was pregnant.”  Aunt Weez said.

My heart stopped.

“She just laughed, telling me I was crazy, telling me you
had to sleep with someone to get pregnant.  Like I didn’t have seven kids and
knew that.”

Aunt Weez closed her eyes.  Then rocked back and forth a
little in the wheelchair.

“I hear you make cookies,” she said.

That stopped my thinking.  Cookies?

“I hear you make good cookies.”

I shook myself a little.  “Yes, Miss Weez.  Would you like
me to make you some?”

I wasn’t above a little bribery.

She opened her eyes, smiled, then asked.  “How about some of
them lemon ones?”

I had to smile.  If a batch of cookies would give me the
information I was seeking, a batch of cookies it would be.

“I’d be delighted.”

She rocked a bit more.  “I don’t know who your Daddy is.  So
if you don’t want to bring me any cookies I understand.”

I smiled.  Bribery was out I guess.  Honesty was in.

“I’d still be delighted to bring you some.”

She grinned.  “I thought you would, but I had to ask.”

I glanced at Alice with a “is that all” look in my eyes.

She nodded at me.  So I stood up, and started to leave.

“I’m going to try to remembers who you remind me of.”  Aunt
Weez said.

I bent over and gave her a kiss on the forehead.  “It’s okay
if you don’t remember.  I might give up this quest.  Too many people are
getting hurt.”

She seemed distraught.  “Don’t be giving up girl.  If I
would have gave up, those seven children wouldn’t have gone to college.  Don’t
be giving up.  Maudie never gave up.”

She shook her finger at me.  “I never told anyone that I
thought Maudie was going to have a baby.  Maybe it was you.  Maybe it was my
pondering.  I don’t know.  All that matters is that you make Maudie proud. 
That’s all a momma wants, to be proud of the way her children grows up.”

I left with Alice following me to the car.

“See, I told you, you are lucky.”

I turned and looked at her beaming face.  “How?  I don’t
understand.”

“Well, hell, girl.  At least I’m not your step momma!”  She
said.

I had to laugh!

I think I might prefer Alice over Joanna any day.

* * *

I took the long way back to the store.  Well, I don’t know
if it was the long way or not, I just drove up and down streets, thinking.

I checked my watch and it was only three-thirty.  I decided
to drive to Baton Rouge.  I wanted to check something out that was bothering
me.

Calling the apartment, the answering machine picked up. 
Grant was still gone.  I left a message that under the conditions of the will I
could leave town if I was back within twenty-four hours, so I was heading for
Baton Rouge to get some clothes and to pick up my mail.  I would be back
tomorrow.

I didn’t leave my phone number.

I didn’t especially want to ’talk’ with Grant.

I didn’t go to the apartment either.  I just hit the road.

* * *

I arrived in Baton Rouge at close to seven.  My parent’s
house smelled musty from lack of fresh air.  The mail was piled on the floor. 
I picked it up and brought it into the kitchen.  I needed to have it forwarded
to Boggy Bayou.  That is if I decided to go back.  I was seriously considering
giving up the whole thing.

I was hungry so I rummaged around the refrigerator and made
an omelet.  A favorite standby.  Then I made a note to myself to clean out the
perishables and bring them to the apartment in the morning, that is, if I
decided to go back.

I can’t stand waste.

I packed some sensible clothing this time.  Plus some warm
things, since you never knew when the weather would turn ugly in Louisiana.  I
couldn’t find my heavy coat, just in case, so I went into the hall storage to
see if it was there.

Ugh!  It was stuffed with stuff.  How like a closet!

The hangers of coats and jackets were packed so tight that
it was hard to separate them and see what was hanging on each one.

I managed to spot it in the back, and with great effort
pulled it out of the closet, knocking the shelf above it.  Sure enough, several
boxes tumbled out and landed on the floor.

I picked them up and tried to stuff them back the way they
were, but fat chance!

I needed to go through all these things, and dispose of them
before the house sold.

After my mother’s death, I just didn’t have the urge to go through
everything.  But, now--

Perhaps there were some answers here.

That thought sort of woke me up.

I left the boxes in the hallway, then went to Father’s
study.  Any paperwork would be there.  He died when I was nine, but it was
always called Father’s study.

I dropped my coat on a chair.  Turned on his desk light, and
started to go through the drawers.

How neat everything was.  That was one reason I rented an
apartment as I went to college.  To be on my own.  To leave my bed unmade.  To
stay in my jammies all day if I wanted to.

Even when I earned my degree, I rented my own apartment,
instead of moving back in.  I learned in college that I did like things neat,
but not as neat as my mother wanted things to be.

I wondered  at their decision to take on a baby later in
life.  Edna wasn’t that much of a loving mother.

Oh, I had the dance lessons, and piano lessons, with
swimming lessons, etc.  But none of the little things were done out of love,
but of a necessity that “mothers” did that.  I knew Edna wouldn’t want anyone
to criticize my upbringing.

Ralph was another thing altogether.  I think he really did
love me.  But he certainly hated noise.  I think if I could have just been
paraded out for those rare ‘family’ moments, then everything would have been
wonderful for him.  But the daily grind of raising a child was way too much for
them.

When he died, she sent me away to boarding school.  It was
in New England, so I only went home during holidays and breaks.  Summertime was
spent at a variety of camps.

I threw open the bottom left-hand drawer and found a
bonanza.  A bottle of bourbon.

I unscrewed the cap and tossed back a healthy swallow.

It burned going down.  Then I started to feel a warm glow in
my stomach.  Courage by mouth.

I searched, prodded, and flipped through the items on his
desk then noticed that the light was blinking on the answering machine.

I punched the button and heard Grant’s voice on the line.

“We need to talk.”  He paused.

“Be here tomorrow, or I’ll come get you.”  Then he hung up.

That warmth in my stomach settled much lower and I longed
for his touch on my body.  That sort of made up my mind for sure to go back to
Boggy Bayou.

We did need to talk.

You can’t just make love to someone, and then forget them.  Okay,
he made love to me, And I honestly think I deserve to do the same to him. 
Turnabout is fair play.  And I couldn’t wait to get him in some neat wrestling
holds.  I grinned.  The thought was making me hot!

I opened the middle drawer and on the side was an address
book.  I pulled it out and opened it up.  Flipping each page I scanned the
names, looking for something.  What I don’t know.  But it seemed important that
I do that.

When I turned the next page, the name jumped out at me.

Aunt Sally.

She came to my mother’s funeral.  Though, she didn’t talk to
me.  She gave me a grim nod, as though it was my fault my mother died in a car
accident, then left as soon as the services were over.

Aunt Sally.

My finger punched in her phone number.

The phone rang and she picked it up on the third ring.

“Hello.”  It sounded like she stood next to me.

I cringed, then answered.  “Aunt Sally.  It’s me.  Sara.”

There was a long pause on the phone, I thought for a moment
that she hung up on me.  But then she said.  “I never expected you to call me.”

I never thought I would call her either, but there I was,
hanging onto the phone receiver for all it was worth, not knowing what to say. 
Then I plunged ahead.

“Why did my mother adopt me?”

I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head.  Slow
wheels.  It took her forever to answer.

“We need to talk.”

Geez, I’ve heard this line before.

“So talk.”  I answered her back.

“Not now.  Later.”

“I’m only in town until tomorrow, then I leave.”

Again, another long pause.  “Then is it okay if I come
tomorrow morning, about nine?”

“Yes.  I’ll be waiting for you.”

The phone clicked in my ear.  Tomorrow morning.  I decided
to bake.

I needed bait.

* * *

I was up early, anxious to be on my way.

I finished packing a few things.  Most of my belongings were
still in boxes from when I moved it after my mother died.  It seemed stupid to
keep an apartment when I had a house to completely go through.  So, I loaded up
my car but left some space for the fridge items.  I found an ice chest in the
garage that would carry everything.

I decided it would be best to wait until after the mail
delivery.  I could send the post office a card so further mail would come
directly to me.  I paid the few bills that had come in during the past week. 
All the busy work, didn’t make the time move any faster.

I started to get antsy at ten minutes after nine.

Thinking it best to keep busy, I started on the boxes that
were still in the hallway.

I decided that I would just as soon pull everything out,
check the contents, and start making stacks.

Keep.  Donate.  Throw away.

I knew the keep pile would be the smallest.

The first box I opened, stopped me short.

High School yearbooks.

Why hadn’t I thought of this before.  Certainly there were
yearbooks at the High School in Boggy Bayou, or at the library, and I’m sure
that Naomi, Bitsy and Joanna all had them.

I pulled up the one with the oldest date and brought it to
the kitchen.

Fixing a cup of coffee, I sat down at the kitchen table.

Slowly, I studied each page.

This was Edna’s book, and there were quite a few
inscriptions inside.

To Edna,

Wasn’t our Senior Year the greatest!  Good Luck in
college.  You know I don’t intend to go.  It’s party time for me!

Naomi

I smiled.  Poor Naomi.  It’s hard to imagine that she ever
had major goals in life.  She just lived from one moment to the next.

There were pictures of the teachers.  A few with signatures
below them.

Social clubs.  Future Homemakers of America.  The Chicken of
Tomorrow beauty queen.

I stopped when I saw the Homecoming Queen and King.

It was Maudie and Dad.

So they had dated.

I wondered if perhaps Dad really was my father?  I know he
loved me.  Would he have insisted on raising me?  Would Edna allow it?  I know
that she enjoyed the lifestyle he provided her.  I also knew that she wouldn’t
want to lose the prestige of being his wife.  Is that why she was always a
little cold toward me?  She was raising another woman’s child with her husband?