The Devil Has Dimples (21 page)

The doorbell stopped my train of thought, and it’s a good
thing, because I was becoming depressed.

It’s about time.  It was a quarter to ten.

Aunt Sally was standing there on the stoop, ready to ring
again when I opened the door.

“Sorry, I’m late.”  She headed inside like a troop
commander.

“I made coffee.”

“Good.  I need it.”  She stalked back toward the kitchen,
and I followed dutifully in her wake.  Old habits are hard to avoid.  She
always intimidated me, even though she was a head shorter.

She shrugged off her jacket and made herself at home,
pouring a cup of coffee for herself, then sitting down at the table.  She glanced
over at the yearbook and grimaced at the photo before her.  She reached over
and closed the book.

“So, what do you want to know?”  She took a slurp of her
coffee and grabbed a cookie.

“Why did my parents adopt me so late in life?”  I asked.

“Edna always wanted a baby.”  Her look was directed my way. 
“She got you.”

Well, that didn’t exactly sound like Sally thought I was a
prize.

“How?”

She studied her fingernails.

“From what I understand, it was a private adoption.”

“But why so late in life?  I would have thought that they
would have gone that route much earlier.”

“Ralph brought it up.  Edna finally gave up having a baby of
her own years before, then Ralph told her he knew of a baby that was coming up
for adoption.”

Uh-oh, this was starting to get complicated.

Aunt Sally examined her fingernails again.

“He insisted.”

My stomach felt like lead.

She threw a glance my way.  “Edna did whatever Ralph
wanted.  She didn’t want to lose him.”

That made me angry.  “Daddy wouldn’t have left her for no
apparent reason.”

She looked at me again.  “Edna thought so.”

Edna would.

I kept quiet for a moment, then had to ask.

“When did Edna find out I was Maudie’s child?”

I didn’t think that I could have surprised her.  But her
mouth fell open and she gasped.

“You’re Maudie Cooper’s daughter?”  Her voice was squeaky.

“Yes.  You didn’t know?”

She shook her head as if disbelief.

“Who told you that?”  She asked.

“Her attorney.  He notified me last week.”

She put her elbows on the table and rested her head on her
hands.

“I never knew,” she said.

“I didn’t know either, until this past week,” I said.

“So, you found out.”  Sally said.

“Found out what?”  I asked.

“Why you were adopted.”

That confused me.  “I don’t understand.  What are you
saying?”

She opened the yearbook, thumbing through the pages until
she came to the one she saw before.

“That explains it all.”

I looked down at the photo.

“This picture was taken twenty-one years before I was born. 
How can it possibly prove anything?”

She took a drink of coffee and sighed.

“Maudie and Ralph were a big item in high school.  Hell,
even I had a crush on Ralph, though I was two years younger.  He was ‘hot
stuff’ then.”

I refilled my coffee cup and sat across the table from her. 
“And?”

“That spring, Maudie dumped Ralph big time.”

I waited.  “And?”

It was like pulling teeth out of a hen.

She shrugged.  “And Edna caught Ralph.”

I sat there looking stupid, and feeling pretty stupid too. 
She made it sound like Edna caught a fish.

I shook my head.  “So.”

Sally took another drink of coffee.  She reached over for a
cookie and grabbed one, then took a bite of it.

“Ralph never got over Maudie.  Not then, not years later.”

Ouch.  That must have hurt Edna.  She always liked all the
attention on her.

“So, what does that prove?”

Sally stared at me.  “They never told you any of this?”

That was it!

“No.  That’s why I’m asking.  I never knew I was adopted
until a week ago.  It’s a complete surprise to me.”

She had the ability to look surprised.  “Oh, I always
thought you knew.”

“I don’t know a damn thing.”

Sally stood and brought her coffee cup to the sink and laid
it inside.  She sighed.

“It’s a long story.”

I shook my head.  It seemed as though all good stories are
long.  “Please tell me the truth.  I have a right to know.”

Sally sat again.  She sat huddled in her chair, as though
she wanted to protect herself.

“They always exchanged Christmas cards.  Edna, to show
Maudie that she still held the prize.  Maudie, because, she was a really nice
person.  Edna always enclosed a letter, you know, one of those Christmas
letters, ‘I got a new car, a new dining room set, a new diamond ring.’  I hated
to receive them.  But Ralph did well by Edna.  She had a right to brag.”

Sally didn’t look too happy about Edna’s bragging rights.

“Maudie’s letters were always about Boggy Bayou.  I always
enjoyed reading them.  I enjoyed living there.”  She looked down at her
fingernails.

“Maudie was always nice.  I never quite understood it.  I’d
write her every so often.  She always wrote back.”

Sally sighed again.

“You must be Ralph’s kid.  Though I never heard of him
cheating.”

“That’s all you know?”  I asked.

“That’s all I want to know.”  She stood.  “What else?”

I looked at her through teary eyes.  “That’s more than
enough.”

* * *

February 7, 1985

I’ve had enough.

They took my baby and ran.

I never believed that Ralph would have done that to me.

My baby girl.

I drove up to their house and waited outside for them to
go to church.  Just so that I could get a glimpse of her.

Then I noticed that the house was empty.

There wasn’t even a FOR SALE sign in the yard.

What happened?

I panicked.

I went to the neighbor’s and asked.

She looked at me, then threatened to call the police.

They moved because of a stalker.

Me.

Ralph knew I just wanted to see my baby.

Edna.

She was jealous.

She always was jealous.

Ralph married her, yet, she was jealous.  It had to have
been her decision.  I know in my heart that Ralph wouldn’t have been so cruel
to me.  I was allowed to visit with my daughter at least once a month.  Edna
made such a scene each month it was becoming a disaster.  But I couldn’t keep
away.  I was so looking to holding Sara, kissing her, being next to her for an
hour or so.

And now she’s gone.

What am I going to do?

I have nothing now.

Nothing at all.

I stopped at Aunt Weez’s house to deliver her cookies.

A nurse answered the door.

“Is Aunt Weez okay?”

She smiled and answered.  “Yes, I’m the home health nurse. 
I was just leaving, would you like to come in?”

I entered.  There was a black teenager watching television,
he waved.  “You must be Maudie’s daughter.”

Ah.  Fame in a small town.

“Yes, I brought Aunt Weez some cookies.”

He jumped up and came over to me.

“The lemon ones?”

He was licking his lips and I doubted in that instant if
Aunt Weez would even see one of these cookies.

“Yes.  Can I talk to her.”

He looked at the plate of cookies, longingly.  Then sighed.

“Yes, ma’am.  She’s in her bedroom, it’s the last door on
the right, down the hall.”

I gave him a smile and followed his directions.

The door was open.  Aunt Weez was lying in bed.  Her rosary
in her hand.  She spied me and gave a huge smile.

“Ah, girl.  You brought me some cookies, I see.”

I couldn’t help but smile.  She seemed so pleased.

“Yes.  I try to keep my word.  Would you like me to put them
in the kitchen for you?”

That stopped her bead-turning hand.  “No.  That boy out
there would gobble them up in no time.  Just place them over here by me.”

I did as she bid.  Moving several bottles of medicine over
to the side.

“That boy be my grandson, three or four times down the
road.  I forget how many ‘greats’ he is.  I always have someone over here
watching over me.”

She patted the side of the bed, so I sat.

“Bad thing is, if I got me something good to eats, those
young kids swallow it down so fast, you can barely see what someone brung you.”

She reached her hand up and stroked my hair.

“I wants to remember where I saw that hair before.  But the
memory don’t come.”

“Was it on a man or a woman?”  My father perhaps, or just
someone she knew.

“Oh it was a woman for sure.  I remember touching it.  I
wouldn’t be touching some white man’s head.”  She laughed, her eyes crinkling
at the corners.  “That’s funny, I’ll have to remember that one...touching a
white man’s head.  Now be a good girl and hand me one of those cookies, I want
to see how good they are.”

* * *

I could hear Grant come up the back stairs.  If the sound
was any indication, he was angry.

I slid the biscuits into the oven and closed the door.

Checking the pots on the stove, I turned them off.  Everything
was cooked, except the biscuits.

I turned to see Grant and stopped what I was doing.

He was in a rage.

And he wouldn’t look at me.

Something was seriously wrong.

He stopped in front of the refrigerator and opened the door
and took out a beer.  He fixed his gaze in my direction and I stepped
backwards.  He was furious.

He stalked into his room and slammed the door.

Well, that explains a lot.

The doorbell from the front of the store was buzzing, so I
trotted down the stairs.

Lenny and Margie were there.

I hurried down and unlocked the door.  Lenny immediately
bounded up the stairs.

“What’s wrong?”  I asked Margie.

“I haven’t a clue.  Grant came over and closed himself in
the office with Lenny, and the first thing I knew he left in a rage.  Did he
tell you something?”

“Not a thing.”

We heard yelling upstairs, took one look at each other and
started the climb pronto.

Just as our heads cleared the top of the floor, Lenny
slapped Grant across the face.

The anger in the room was a living force.  Grant glared at
his father, then turned on his heel and went into the bedroom, slamming the
door.

Lenny looked down at his hand as if it were a foreign
object.  He turned sadly and walked our way.

“Lenny?”

“Don’t ask.”  He glanced at me.  A noncommittal glance, as
though he couldn’t see me or didn’t want to see me.  I don’t know.  But somehow
deep inside, I felt that Lenny slapped Grant because of me.  I felt ashamed.

Lenny grabbed Margie by the hand and led her down the
stairs, protesting.  “Lenny, what about Grant?  What happened?”

“Later,” he said.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and let themselves
out.  I hurried down after them and locked up.  I watched them get into their
car.  Margie was pleading.  Lenny was close-mouthed.

What in God’s name happened?

I slowly went up the stairs, hesitant to even begin sorting
out the details of the evening.

I tapped on Grant’s door.  There was no answer.

I picked up his beer from the counter and poured it down the
sink.

Taking a few aspirins, I poured some water in a glass and
downed them.  For some reason I had a headache.  Go figure.

I walked over to his door and rapped.

“Grant.  What’s wrong?”

Nothing.

I knocked a little harder.

“Grant, talk to me.”

He opened the door so fast, I almost fell over.

“Please, get out of my way.”

I moved back.  “What’s wrong.”

He started to walk away, then I noticed a small duffle bag
in his hand.  I pulled at his arm.

“Grant?”

He stopped, turned and placed his bag on the floor.  “You
might be my sister.”

“What!”

He ruffed his hand through his hair.  “Just that.  I think
my dad might be your father.”

“Where did you come up with a crazy notion like that?”

“From Angie Rabalais, the choir leader down at Maudie’s
church.  Apparently Dad was unfaithful to my mother throughout their marriage. 
Angie couldn’t wait to tell me all the details.”

“So, where are you going?”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

He grabbed both of my arms and pulled me closer.  “If you
don’t know, telling you why won’t matter.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, is right.  I want you so much I can’t think.  The mere
thought of you being my sister is killing me.”

I hesitated.  This was information that absolutely stunned
me.  “How sure are you?  Cause my Aunt Sally says it’s my adopted father, err,
my real father.”

I threw him a grin.  “Wouldn’t Lenny have told you something
if he thought I was his child?”

He thought on that.  “I don’t know.  I do know that Angie
has had it in for Maudie for years.”

“Why?”

“Maudie told her husband about her affair with the minister,
her husband divorced her after that.”

“That might do it.”  The timer went off, and I removed the
biscuits from the oven.  “Why not sit and eat dinner and talk this out.”

“Talking won’t do any good.  Not if it’s true.”

“And if it isn’t?”

Grant grimaced.  “There is that.”  He grabbed the glasses
from the table and filled them with ice.

“Honestly, Sara, I could have punched her out, she looked
like she enjoyed telling me about my father.”