The Peculiar Miracles of Antoinette Martin: A Novel (7 page)

Something wild was in the air. Antoinette felt it as soon as she clambered out of the van. The temperature had dropped and wind rushed through the trees. Her mother always said April weather could turn on a dime. An hour ago, the sky had been a crisp blue. Now it was so dark it almost looked like nighttime.

Seth had parked right in front of the Bakery Barn. Years ago, Eli and MaryBeth Cantwell had turned the run-down barn in the middle of Main Street into a bakery. A small roof jutted over the entrance, and baskets filled with yellow pansies and blue violas hung from the white beams. Several metal tables sat on the concrete patio in front of the bakery. They were all empty.

The air smelled like lightning, and the scent made the tiny hairs on Antoinette’s arms stand. When the rain came, the land’s song would change. Right now, Antoinette heard the low moan of a cello, an eerie sound.

Antoinette flapped her hands.
Change, change.
She wanted to stand outside in the rain, listening to the land’s music. She imagined water streaming down her back, flattening her hair against her head, her whole body bright with sound.

“I still say you need to tell Lily
everything
,” Seth said as he led Antoinette and her mother to a table near the bakery entrance. He had been saying the same thing since they left the farm.

Antoinette’s muscles felt short and her joints stiff. In spite of that, when her mother pulled out a chair for her, she didn’t sit. She leaned against the table, hands curled tight against her shoulders and her head cocked to the side, listening. The music would change soon.

“The rain should hold off,” her mother said as she sat down. The walk from the van to the outdoor table had been short, but she was out of breath. “At least until we get back to the farm.”

“You need to tell her,” Seth said again.

This was one of the few times Antoinette had heard her mother and Seth argue. It bothered her, and she pulled her hands even tighter against her shoulders.

“You don’t need to protect Lily anymore,” her mother said. “Besides, she was anxious around Antoinette before. Knowing
everything
will scare her away. I can’t risk her leaving.”

Antoinette didn’t like it when people talked about her. It made her feel bound up inside, like she was tangled in rubber bands.

She tried to focus on the music, but over the cello she heard the distant buzz of traffic. She also heard a bird calling from one of the Bradford pear trees lining the square and the rush of wind in the tree leaves. But most of all, she heard her mother’s voice. It was light as a bell with Seth’s lower voice her counterpoint.

Her mother spoke easily. Words fell from her mouth like water flowing downstream. Seth was deliberate in his speech. Antoinette wondered whether he spent hours in silence, storing his words, savoring their taste before doling them out one by one.

“You don’t know that,” he said. He sat with his elbows braced on his knees, like he was waiting for something.

“Why do you care?” Antoinette’s mother asked. She leaned forward and stared at him as if studying his face. “You haven’t talked to Lily in years.”

Seth pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “It’s not about Lily,” he said. “It’s about what’s best for Antoinette. She deserves someone who knows the whole story. And Lily’s stronger than you think. Have faith in her.”

“Faith was always your purview,” her mother said, “not mine.”

Antoinette watched as Seth walked to the corner of the patio and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He leaned against the wrought iron railing as he shook out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. His closed his eyes as he blew out a stream of smoke.

Her mother stared at him through narrowed eyes. “You still have feelings for her,” she said.

Seth didn’t answer. He took another pull on the cigarette.

Her mother pressed on. “When you talk about her, your voice softens, and you get these little lines about your eyes, as if you’re smiling.” She pointed at his eyes. “You’re doing it now.”

Seth turned away and stared out across the street. “We were talking about Antoinette. Not Lily.”

“You might want to figure out how you feel about Lily before she gets home,” Antoinette’s mother said.

He hunched his shoulders and stubbed out the cigarette. “Thanks for the advice.”

Antoinette cocked her head. He didn’t sound thankful. She rose up on her toes and rocked her head from side to side, trying to loosen the tension in her body. She felt thunder in the sky.

“She has a right to know how you feel,” her mother said.

Seth laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “She has a right to know
everything
about Antoinette.”

“Touché,” her mother said as she leaned back in her chair.

“There y’all are.” A tall woman with hollow cheeks approached their table. Her gray hair was clipped short, and her eyelids drooped slightly. MaryBeth Cantwell. Her left hand was behind her back. “With the weather, I was afraid you wouldn’t make it. They said on the radio that a storm’s rolling in.” Her right hand shook slightly as she shielded her eyes and looked across the parking lot. There the sky faded from gray to black.

“We can use the rain,” Seth said. “The ground’s starting to crack, and it’s only April.” He seemed grateful for MaryBeth’s presence. He tossed the spent cigarette on the ground, then walked back to the table, pausing to kiss the older woman’s cheek before sitting down.

“I appreciate you coming out to test my new cupcakes before the show, but I don’t want y’all to get stuck here because of me.” A constant tremor shook her right hand, and her head lolled to the right. She leaned down and whispered in Antoinette’s ear. “Don’t tell your Mama—or Seth”—she winked at them—“but I’ve got something special just for you.”

MaryBeth pulled her left arm from behind her back. She held a small silver platter. On it sat a white cupcake swirled with pale lemon frosting. The little cake was crowned with a candied purple pansy. “I made it special for you. I’m selling them at your mama’s garden show next weekend, so you tell me if it’s good.” She placed the plate on the table.

Antoinette had overheard her mother talking to Seth and knew MaryBeth was sick. She looked at MaryBeth’s trembling hand and thought the woman must understand what it felt like to be unable to control your body. She wondered what MaryBeth’s song would sound like. Would it be slow and sweet like her mother’s? Or ragged around the edges, like Seth’s?

The wind picked up, lifting tendrils of Antoinette’s hair. She bounced once and looked sideways at the cupcake. It was lace and sugar, like the snow that covered the farm each winter.

Eli Cantwell walked out of the bakery. He looked like skin stretched across a skeleton, and when he smiled his lips disappeared. He carried two porcelain saucers. Each one held a cupcake. One cake had pale green icing dusted with coconut shavings. The other had lavender icing topped with thinly sliced strawberries.

“We didn’t forget about you two,” he said as he set the saucer with the green cupcake in front of Antoinette’s mother. “Tell us what you think. We want to be ready for the garden show.”

“You’ll be ready before we are,” her mother said. “Two weeks doesn’t seem like nearly enough time.” She peeled the wrapper from her cupcake and took a bite. “It’s delicious.”

Antoinette loved their yearly garden show. Her mother invited artists from all over Redbud to set up exhibits in the garden. Then she opened the farm to the public. All day people milled through the fields, gazing at the flowers and art. The air was always filled with music that day.

Thinking about it made her happy. She flapped her hands.

MaryBeth took the other plate from Eli. She held it in her bad hand, and it shook slightly. “Would you mind helping us haul some tables out to the barn before the show?” she asked Seth. “Eli and I aren’t as young as we used to be.”

“We’ve got plenty of extra tables at the farm,” Antoinette’s mother said.

“We’ll set them up for you,” Seth said.

That was one of the things Antoinette loved about Seth; he was always willing to help.

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” MaryBeth said. She set the plate in front of Seth, and as she did, her hand twitched. The cupcake ended up in Seth’s lap, and the saucer shattered on the concrete.

“I’m sorry.” MaryBeth pressed her good hand against her mouth. “I . . . I’ll clean it up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Seth said. He grabbed some napkins from the dispenser on the table and wiped the icing from his pants. “That’s one good thing about working on a farm. A little mess doesn’t bother you.” He smiled at her, but she hurried back to the bakery without noticing.

Antoinette’s hands stopped flapping, and she managed to take a bite of her cupcake. She would make MaryBeth feel better by eating every last bit. Her first bite was all icing. Smooth and lemony.

Eli watched his wife leave. “She’s having a bad spell. She likes doing things herself, but I don’t think she can keep it up much longer.” His voice wavered, and he looked older than he was.

“She seems worse than she was last month,” Antoinette’s mother said gently.

Eli nodded. “Her strain of ALS is particularly aggressive. I don’t know what I’ll do when she’s . . .” He stopped and spread his hands. “God will provide. He always has. Excuse me, I’d better go check on her.”

Antoinette wasn’t sure about God providing. He never answered her prayers. She stared at the purple candied pansy. It looked like it was covered in glass.

“You can eat it,” her mother said.

Antoinette knew that. Cora Jenkins often stopped by their house to collect edible flowers. She tested her recipes on Antoinette and her mother before serving them in her restaurant. She made flower-themed food for the garden show. Last year, she made a spinach salad tossed with tiger lilies and dried cranberries. It had been the perfect mix of bitter and sweet.

Antoinette felt the temperature drop again. She flapped her hands in excitement, then calmed enough to take a big bite of her cupcake.

Seth took another napkin from the dispenser. Most of the icing was gone now, but he kept working. He kept his head down, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “Do you really think Lily will come home?”

Antoinette tapped her fingers on the table.
Why is Lily coming?
She wanted to ask, but no one paid attention to her.

“She’ll come.” Her mother’s voice was low, but she sounded confident. “She would have come home years ago if I hadn’t been so stubborn.”

Seth tossed the napkin on the table, then put his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. “She’s going to find out about Antoinette sooner or later.”

“Let’s hope it’s later,” her mother said. Then she did what she always did when she didn’t want to talk about something, she changed the subject: “Why didn’t you let Lily know when you came home?”

Seth sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “I tried. When Mom told me that Lily had moved to Covington, I found her address online and drove to her house. I parked on the street and sat in my truck, trying to get up the nerve to knock on her door.” He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I didn’t exactly end things on a good note, and I wasn’t sure she’d be happy to see me.”

He shook his head. “God, I was stupid. I should have known seminary wasn’t right for me. I was always more Peter than Paul.”

Antoinette’s mother gave a small laugh. “I always thought Peter was easier to take. At least he seemed human.”

“Yeah, well that was my problem. Too human.” Seth frowned. “School was about following a set of rules. I learned which people were too damaged to love and that being a good Christian meant staying away from them.

“No one was
real
. No one ever sat down and said, ‘You know what, there’s this place in me that’s broken. I’m not sure whether God exists and, if he does, whether he gives a shit about me. I felt like I was wearing a mask the entire time I was there.”

“Did you tell Lily any of this?” Antoinette’s mother asked. A chilly wind was blowing and the sky darkened. Her mother shivered. “The storm will be here soon.”

“Wait here,” Seth said. He jogged back to the truck and returned with a sweatshirt that he wrapped around her shoulders.

“I wanted to tell her,” he said as he sat down. “That’s why I drove to her house that day. But just as I found my nerve to get out of the truck, Lily came outside. A man was with her. A good-looking guy, I guess. Dark hair. Neatly dressed even though it was a Saturday.”

Seth reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. He pulled one out but didn’t light it. Instead, he tapped one end against the table, then turned it over and tapped the other end. He repeated the action several times. “The man had his arm across Lily’s shoulder, and she was laughing at something he said. They seemed . . . close.”

“Did you talk to her?” Bundled in Seth’s sweatshirt, Antoinette’s mother looked small, but the blue tinge had left her lips.

Seth shook his head. “She had obviously moved on. I didn’t want to interfere. I had hurt her enough already, so I left before she noticed me.”

Antoinette’s mother reached across the table and placed her hand over his, stopping his nervous fidgeting with the cigarette. “Will you be okay with her here?”

Seth pressed his lips into a thin smile. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I always am.”

The first drops of rain fell as MaryBeth and Eli returned. MaryBeth carried a white bakery box tied with a red ribbon, and Eli carried a broom.

“I’m so sorry,” MaryBeth said to Seth. “I can’t always control my arm anymore.”

Antoinette knew how that felt. She took another bite of her cupcake, hoping it would cheer MaryBeth.
It’s good
, she tried to say, but no one noticed. She tapped MaryBeth’s leg and smiled. Her teeth were coated with icing.

No one paid attention to her. She stomped her feet. Still, no one listened.

Eli swept the shards of glass into a dust pan. “What’s life without a little adventure?” he said with a smile, although his eyes looked sad.

Antoinette took another bite of her cupcake. Lemon and vanilla combined together. Two of her favorite flavors. She wanted to tell MaryBeth that she understood being different.