Stardust: A Novel Page 9

  Rosey settled back in her chair as Reverend Abernathy from the Presbyterian church gave the invocation and led us in singing the national anthem.

  I always tear up at “the rockets’ red glare” and dabbed my eyes as we sang. Next up was someone from the Texas Chapter of the March of Dimes saying the predicted outbreak of polio was feared to reach the tens of thousands, with Texas having hundreds of crippling cases already in the first four months of 1952. She put out a plea reminding us this was only the beginning of the season for the “summer disease.”

  A familiar scent wafted by—Aqua Velva—and my stomach turned over. Bobby Carl Applegate. His breath was warm on my neck as he whispered, “You look gorgeous tonight.” I turned around, quirked my mouth in a fake smile, and nearly laughed. He had on a yellow-and-green-plaid shirt that gave a greenish cast to his skin. I turned back around quickly. Sally had her hand over her mouth, but I could tell from her eyes she was laughing.

  The Pearls sat in the shadows at the back of the bandstand as Aunt Cora took center stage. “As you all know, we are a town famous for our talent show at the annual Mayhaw Festival, but when I was planning the program for tonight, I had an epiphany. Why wait two months to share your talent? Tonight we’re going to have an impromptu dress rehearsal.”

  She went on to explain that for the next five minutes she would take names on slips of paper of those who wanted to participate. You could put in your own name or the name of someone you wanted to hear sing or dance or juggle. The catch was you also had to put an amount you would donate to the March of Dimes for the privilege. Names would be drawn for the order of contestants, with the Pearls serving as accompanists.

  Rosey was about to squirm right out of her skin as she looked at me. “Please, Mommy, I want to sing. Put my name in the basket. Please. Pretty please.”

  “What do you want to sing, sweetie?”

  “It’s a secret.” She pursed her lips, determination in her look.

  “You sure?” She nodded. “Alrighty, I’ll put your name in.”

  I wrote two dollars on the slip of paper with Rosey’s name and decided if she chickened out, I could go with her onstage or else just pay the money, bein’s it was a good cause and all. But when her name was the third one drawn, she sashayed to the stage, fringe swinging on her sleeves like she was the Shirley Temple of the South.

  Aunt Cora beamed as she lowered the microphone. Rosey whispered to the Pearls what she wanted to sing, then walked to the mic and said, “This song is for my daddy, who has to watch it from heaven.”

  The air swirled around me as Ozella played a couple of beats, then nodded to Rosey. I knew what she was fixing to sing. O’Dell always sang “You Are My Sunshine” in his off-key way anytime we got in the car to dash off to a traveling carnival. Or out for a surprise ice-cream cone. Or when we went down to the bayou to gather Mayhaw berries that, being their nature, grew the best with their roots clinging to the edges of the banks, their branches heavy with fruit. The best way to get them was to shake the bushes, then go out in a rowboat and scoop them from the water with a butterfly net. A wave of panic clutched me as I realized we’d missed Mayhaw season this year, and now Rosey’s voice floating with gossamer innocence across the town square brought it all back.

  Tears burned like hot coals behind my eyelids, and if Aunt Cora had been watching she would have been proud that I was playing the grieving widow to perfection. And she couldn’t possibly know that, contrary to what I said, my heart bled its own tears for O’Dell. For what we could have had. Cheat or not, he was the father of two beautiful girls.

  Behind me, Bobby Carl breathed on my neck. “Hoo-whee! That girl sings almost as purty as you. What’re you gonna sing when your turn comes?”

  I shooed him back with my hand, waiting for her to finish. As the crowd broke out in applause, I turned around and glared at him. “Sorry, no singing from me tonight.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Someone might’ve put your name in the hat. I know I’d pay a pretty penny to hear your honey voice.”

  “You better not have put my name in.”

  Rosey had made it back from the stage and threw her arms around my neck. I hugged her long and hard. “Your daddy would be so proud.”

  Only now, the simple act of a child felt tangled. Even if O’Dell were alive, he probably wouldn’t have been here to see his daughter. The bitter taste lingered as Zenith Morris sang with great vibrato her rendition of “Blue Moon of Kentucky,” and then Sue Ann McDonnell tap-danced across the stage to the Pearl sisters’ accompaniment.

  In the middle of Sue Ann’s dance, a murmur started in the crowd. Sally looked around and scowled as others began fidgeting and whispering. By the time Sue Ann finished, it wasn’t applause that greeted her, but the wail of the fire truck siren. Now everyone turned to watch Mayhaw’s lone emergency vehicle pull out from its bay across the street and turn west. More chattering ensued, and Aunt Cora had trouble being heard over the crowd. No one listened to her, and a few of the men—those who served as volunteer firefighters—hastened away to perform their duties.

  The smell of smoke teased the air, growing stronger with each minute. In my belly, a sourness churned. Mary Frances lived in the area where the smoke rose, and while I peered along with the crowd, Sheriff Bolander approached and looked at me, his eyes hooded beneath his Stetson. “Georgia. Bad news, I’m afraid. The place on fire is that of O’Dell’s momma. You might want to come along with me now.”

  An icy feeling seized me, froze me to the chair. “Oh, no. Please, no.”

  Sally put her arm around me. “Lord, have mercy. What could possibly happen to you next? Go on now. I’ve got the girls. And I’m praying.”

  Somehow, I willed my legs not to buckle as I stood and scurried away, following Sonny. And each frantic step drew me closer to finding out what new disaster lay ahead.

  [ CHAPTER 14 ]

  Night sounds from the bayou punctuated the stillness when I returned to the Stardust. With a glass of sweet tea to clear my parched, smoke-tinged throat, I sat on the steps outside my bedroom. An owl hooted off in the distance above the thrum of bullfrogs and cricket chirps that made me think of rusty banjo strings.

  I took a long drink and gazed at the inky spot that was Zion. Flickers danced in the trees like fireflies. Lanterns? Ludi had told me they had no electricity, and that she cooked on a woodstove behind her home. What that was like I really couldn’t imagine and only knew she never complained, reminded me even that the Lord had blessed her with a roof over her head and a good man. Neither of which my mother-in-law, Mary Frances, now had.

  My mind raced through the events of the evening. Rushing along with Sonny to the fire, I’d seen the flames lick the sky, then watched as the roof of the clapboard house caved in, not knowing whether I was seeing the fiery grave of my mother-in-law or just a glimpse of hell. It wasn’t known at first whether Mary Frances was inside or not, and as the firemen wielded canvas hoses like rope whips to harness the fire, a shout went out.

  “We found her!”

  My strength poured out the bottoms of my feet, my legs stringy and limp, but I willed them to hold me up until someone took my elbow and steered me down the street where they were loading Mary Frances into the ambulance.

  They say disasters come in threes, and we’d already buried my husband, O’Dell, and Paddy Palmer. It was a divine act that Mary Frances had not ended up being number three, but the questions remained: Had she cheated death, or did another disaster loom?

  From my spot on the back steps, I set down my glass of tea and pulled my knees up. As I hugged them to my chest, I thought about my mother-in-law. She’d escaped the fire and was found wandering in the alley half a block away wearing a puckered gingham bathrobe. No shoes. A nurse had replaced her smoke-tinged robe with a hospital gown, rolled up the robe, and said she’d dispose of it. That’s when Mary Frances started screaming.

  “Take the last blessed item I own on this earth, will you?” Her eyes plea
ded with me. “Don’t let them treat me like that, Georgia.”

  The nurse had winked at me, more in pity than anything, I think, but when Mary Frances wouldn’t let up, I asked to see the robe. In the pockets I found a silver lighter my father-in-law, Earl, had given her years ago and a familiar velvet pouch. O’Dell’s Salesman of the Quarter cuff links.

  I took them to her, and she clutched them as if they were the Holy Grail. And to her, they were—the only thing she had left of the men in her life. She cried again as they washed her feet, which had cuts and scrapes from the rocks in the alley and which her drunkenness apparently had kept her from feeling. I longed to ask her about the fire, but she was so fragile, I couldn’t bear to bring it up.

  The simple truth was she drank liquor. Too much and too often. And no matter how many fancy bows or excuses you put on it, she had set her house on fire. Most likely a lit cigarette. Perhaps it caught fire while she was in the bathroom or getting another ice cube for her whiskey tumbler. That she was lonely, weak, and irresponsible was a realm over which I had no control, and deep in my heart, I believed God who made the heavens also watched over the less fortunate. Which included Mary Frances.

  It was unknown how long she’d remained in the house and how much smoke damage there was to her lungs. Her disorientation—which came and went—and the blue tinge around her lips were of concern. Doc Kelley had suggested she stay in the hospital on oxygen for a day or two. He wanted to run a few tests and do a follow-up chest X-ray. And I knew he was giving me time to make arrangements for Mary Frances.

  Her cousin in Corsicana came to mind. Mary Frances might pitch a fit, but Cousin Bertha had asked her to come. I would talk with her first thing in the morning.

  The moon rode high in the sky, dull, obscured by a veil of smoke. A remnant of the fire, no doubt. Another possibility for Mary Frances niggled at me. The Stardust. She could come here. I shoved the thought away, but the nudge was insistent. I shook it off and felt a lick on my bare leg.

  Sebastian. The dog who had come with the roofer. I ran my hand along the sleek fur of his head, which encouraged him, and before I knew it, he was alongside me, his head resting in my lap.

  Why aren’t you inside with Peter?

  “Good question.” The voice startled me, and through the shadows, Peter appeared. Sebastian loped obediently to his side.

  “Question? I wasn’t aware I’d spoken.” A ripple through my body snapped the hairs on my arms to attention. “And heavens to Betsy, what are you doing up so late? You scared me half to death.”

  “I was asleep, but Sebastian whimpered to go out. I didn’t notice you’d come back. Sorry. I’ll see it doesn’t happen again.” He hooked a finger in the dog’s collar and turned to go.

  “It’s no problem. It might even be good to have a guard dog around. Guess he could lick a burglar into submission if nothing else.”

  Peter gave a soft chuckle and looked over his shoulder. “That he might. I keep him for company, not his killer instincts.” He stepped off into the night, leaving a rush of loneliness in his wake. I watched him go, and then, as earlier in the day, I called out to him.

  “Say, Mr. Reese, could I ask you a question?”

  He turned, his face obscured by the moon’s shadow. “Seems as if you just did.”

  “Never mind then. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  He stood a few paces from me, head tilted. “Your question?”

  “About the cottages… which one would you think we could get ready the soonest? Something has come up, and we may have a guest sooner than I’d anticipated.”

  “Not rightly sure, although the roof on number five is solid. Depends on how much work is left to do on the inside. When is your guest expected to arrive?”

  “A couple of days, I guess. There was an accident in town—a fire.”

  “I heard the sirens and smelled the smoke. Was it a friend of yours?”

  “My mother-in-law. She made it out, but her house is a total loss. Poor thing has no place to go, so I thought I’d ask her to stay out here until she decides what she wants to do.”

  “I wasn’t aware you were married. What does your husband do?”

  The temptation to tell Peter to run on over to the graveyard and ask O’Dell himself played wickedly with my senses, but I bit my tongue. “Nothing now. He’s deceased.”

  “Pity. So sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

  “Thanks. That’s neither here nor there. I just thought I’d forewarn you about what we’d be doing tomorrow—getting a room ready.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  And this time when he turned to go, I let him. The moon had floated free from the smoky haze and brightened the sky, but the night smells lingered—a melting pot of what the day had stirred up. The smell of the bayou, heavy and wet from the recent rain, came up to mingle with all the other scents. Ashes. The hosed-down remains of Mary Frances’s house. I caught a whiff of fried catfish and decided it came from Zion. They’d probably eaten hours ago, but that was the way with fish. The odor hung around long after the bones were tossed for the cats to fight over. It had been a long day, and it felt like two thousand hours had passed since I put Rosey on the school bus that morning.

  Tomorrow would be another long day. For the present, I was glad the girls were staying with Sally. At least I’d have time for a cup of coffee in the morning. I might even invite Ludi to sit with me at the kitchen table and hatch out our plans for getting Mary Frances moved out to the Stardust.

  Zion was wrapped in darkness now. No more flickering lights. I picked up my glass and opened the screen door. This was the life I dreamed of—making my own way in the world. As I slid between the sheets, an old adage Hugh Salazar was fond of crept into my thoughts. Be careful what you wish for, Georgia. You just might get it.

  Back then it was finding my parents. Now, I wanted to make a new life for the girls and me. Why did it feel as if my world was getting ready to tip off-kilter? The thought tickled me. My life had tipped so many times the past few months that, as Aunt Cora would say, I no longer knew up from sic ’em.

  [ CHAPTER 15 ]

  A thump on my bed roused me the next morning. Fuzzy headed, I opened my eyes to find Avril’s face inches from mine, the smell of pancake syrup lacing her breath. Confused, I shook my head. “What are you doing here? Where’s Rosey? And Sally?”

  Sally sailed into the room, her eyes wide. “So glad you’re here and not still with Mary Frances at the hospital. How are you, love? And your sweet momma-in-law?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not even awake.” I sat on the edge of the bed, ran my fingers through my hair, and pulled Avril into my arms. “O’Dell’s momma is going to be fine. She’ll need a place to stay of course, but all in good time. They’re keeping her in the hospital for a couple of days.”

  “That’s a relief. Where will she go then?”

  “Not sure, and it’s too early to think about it.”

  Sally smiled, but her manner was all wrong. Stiff. Not telling me something. I smiled back. “Thanks for keeping the girls, and sorry I didn’t get up earlier and come get them. Looks like I need to get cracking if Rosey’s going to make the school bus.”

  I made it to my feet and grabbed my housecoat, but Sally hadn’t moved. She chewed her bottom lip, blinking back tears. Maybe there had been an incident with the girls or… Hud. I shuddered. “Sally, are you all right?”

  “No. Something’s come up. Hud’s cousin, the one whose little girl has polio, has now come down with it herself. Bad, from what they say. They’ve called the family to come down to Houston. His aunt is on the verge of a breakdown at the thought of losing her daughter and caring for Nina Beth, who still needs worlds of therapy. Hud’s mom has asked us all to come. I’ve packed a bag to be gone for a week…” Her voice was strained, her ready composure ruffled.

  “What about your kids? Do you need me to watch them?”

  “No, Hud says the whole family should go. Although, to tell you the truth,
I’m scared out of my wits over this whole infantile paralysis thing. I don’t want my kids being exposed, but Hud assured me we’d keep them far away from the polio ward.” Her voice hitched up an octave. “They’ve put his cousin in an iron lung. Can you imagine living in a tank, having it squeeze all the air from your body just so you can breathe? It’s barbaric. And horrible.” She braced her shoulders and flicked her hair from her cheek. “We’re staying at the Palace Hotel. I’ll call you later and let you know how things are.”

  Questions raced pell-mell through my head, but the feeling of impending catastrophe that visited my dreams now took up residence in the hollow of my chest. I held out my arms, then hugged my best, lifelong friend and muttered the stupid things people always say in times like this. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. You and the kids… you have to go… it’s the thing to do. You know I’ll be praying.”

  Sally’s chin quivered. “Thanks.” Then she was gone.

  Wide awake now and shaky myself, I looked at the girls. “So you’ve had breakfast, which I can tell from your syrupy breath. Rosey, what do you want to wear to school?” I looked at the clock. Ten minutes until the bus.

  “I’m sick, Mommy. Not going to school.” Her voice told me she was faking, probably upset by the trauma of the morning, but my heart told me I needed my girls close. How bad could missing one day of first grade be?

  “Here, let me feel your forehead. Where do you feel bad?” I reached for a clean rag and wet it under the kitchen faucet.

  “My tummy. I think I ate too many pancakes.”

  Peeking under her shirt, I said, “Oh, my, yes. I’d say you had one too many. Here, put this rag on your forehead. Why don’t you go put on some play clothes and rest while I get ready? We have a lot to do today as soon as Ludi gets here.”

  I went to the window and peeked at the field, hoping to see her lumbering along, but saw nothing. “I wonder what’s keeping her. She’s usually here by now.”