Wreath (43 page)

The junkyard burst forth in color in the spring, with beautiful wild azaleas, dogwood trees sprinkled through the woods, and the intoxicating smell of wisteria, showering her with purple petals. It no longer felt like an escape but instead like a refuge, her private garden. With the days staying light longer, Wreath sat outside in the warm air, writing in her diary, trying to figure out her next steps. Graduation was only two weeks away, and she was considering taking Faye up on her offer to stay with her for the summer.

Wreath Wisteria Willis
, she wrote in her book, loving her name and life more than she could have imagined. Often her future plans were interrupted by dreamy memories of prom night, and she wrote page upon page about it.

She had labeled one section
FAVORITE PROM MEMORIES:

I’ve never been so happy in my life
, Wreath wrote.
I wish Frankie were here to be part of it
.

She did not write about the one blemish on the near-perfect evening, a glimpse of a fruit-punch-colored car driving slowly around the meeting hall where the prom was held and the rumor that “Miss Watson’s deputy” was on the heels of a stalker.

Big Fun had not surfaced since she’d run away from him nearly eleven months ago, but she expected she’d hear from him again. She had the evidence of his crime.

Wreath was pleased when Clarice pulled up to the store at quitting time with the offer of a ride.

“You might not be so glad to see me when I tell you what I learned today,” Clarice said. “Your life is tangled up in red tape.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Wreath asked.

“We can get this taken care of, but you may not get to graduate on time.”

“But I have to. All of my friends will be there, and I promised Frankie.”

By now everyone knew her mother had died, but only Clarice knew her last name was Willis. Wreath continued to let them believe she lived with a reclusive cousin. Law regularly tried to convince her to come clean and move in with Faye, but Wreath dug in even harder when he pressed her.

“Can’t I plead insanity or something?” she said to Clarice.

“Believe me, I’ve thought about that. Using a false name on college applications is a thorny issue. I need more information.”

Wreath had been obstinate with Clarice, even though she knew the woman only wanted to help her. During the fleeting moments when she thought of giving in, she remembered the rage on Big Fun’s face at the rest area or her mama’s frightened voice when he threatened both of them.

She recalled Frankie dragging her through deserted streets to catch a bus to run away from one abusive boyfriend, and their sneaking through bushes to elude Big Fun when he had been on a drinking binge.

“Everything in my life has always been complicated,” Wreath said.

“These aren’t the easiest waters to navigate, unless you’re willing to use your real surname publicly. Plus you stonewall my efforts to get a statement from your guardian.” Clarice’s voice held a sterner quality than usual.

Wreath’s head drooped. “You’re not going to back out on my case, are you? If I can graduate, I’ll go back to being who I really am and start fresh.”

Clarice squared her shoulders the way Wreath imagined she did when entering a courtroom. “Don’t send your cap and gown back. I’ll see what my father can do. He has connections in the state department of education. One way or the other we’ll work this out.”

She pulled the car over. “Are you certain you won’t let me take you to your house?”

As Wreath had done so many times before, she declined and gathered her pack from the backseat.

“Child,” Clarice said, “you are going to gray my hair. But one way or the other, you are going to get your diploma.”

Chapter 40

F
aye wanted a special design in the store window for the week before Wreath’s graduation.

“I don’t know for sure that I’m graduating,” Wreath said.

“Oh, be serious,” Faye replied, moving a fern into a spot of sunlight in the store. “You’ve made excellent grades all year, and you said you did well on your finals.”

“But”—Wreath gnawed on her fingernails, something she rarely did—”I haven’t gotten the official word.”

Faye knew there was a problem. She just wasn’t sure what it was. “Wreath, you know that I try not to butt into your business, right?” she asked.

Wreath slid the plant a few inches. “Sure.”

“I feel like I have to ask you about this matter with Clarice,” Faye said. “I’d like to be involved.”

Straightening slowly, Wreath turned, her face calm. “It’s all under control, Faye,” she said. “Clarice is working out some official issues with my school transfer.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“But you’re so concerned about not graduating.”

“I know,” Wreath said. “I’ve wanted this for so long. For me and for Frankie.”

Faye could not resist stepping over to Wreath. “I’m going to keep praying, and I know this is going to work out before the ceremony.”

“Can we change the subject?” Wreath asked.

“Certainly,” Faye said. “Let’s hear your ideas for a special graduation display.”

“I already know what I want,” Wreath said. “Let’s make a lush garden, a design where you have to study it to see what’s there. We can put geraniums and even shrubbery, with the yard sculptures we’ve been saving.” Her head turned this way and that in the look that had become so familiar. Faye knew an idea was about to burst out. “I’ve got it!” she said. “What if we turn the entire store into a garden, just for the month of May? We’ll bring in small trees in pots, bushes, all sorts of plants.”

“Would that be a good setting for a party?” Faye asked.

“A garden party, I suppose.” Her eyes widened. “Are you planning a spring open house? What a great idea!”

“Actually, I’m planning a graduation party for a very special girl. A garden theme would be perfect because this girl has blossomed in front of my eyes.”

Faye could tell it took Wreath, who so seldom had something given to her, a moment to realize she was the honoree.

Wreath’s eyes lit up. “We can do it for all of our customers who are graduating,” she said. “We can sell exclusive sponsorships.”

Faye shook her head. “It will be exclusive, all right, designed just for you. This party’s not for sale. I intended for it to be a surprise, but I want you to look forward to it.”

Wreath did her funny dance and walked over to give Faye a hug. The woman, so alone a year ago, drank in the strawberry scent of Wreath’s hair, the warmth of her affection. “Why don’t you go next door and ask if J. D. might have a few plants he’d be willing to loan us? He’s the one with the plant sources.”

“You sure you don’t want to go?” Wreath asked with a cheeky grin, and Faye swatted her lightly on the rear and sent her out, hoping Wreath would understand when the time came.

J. D. grew still when Wreath walked in the store; she thought he looked almost ill.

“Are you all right? You don’t have the flu, do you?” she asked.

“Yes. No.” He shook his head, but his eyes were glued to her face. “I was wool-gathering. What brings you over today?”

Wreath outlined her design plans in great detail, J. D. hanging on every word as though listening to a foreign language. “Do you understand what I’m going for?”

“Absolutely. I’ll round up what you need and bring it right over.” He pulled the small notebook out of his pocket and started jotting something down.

“What are you writing?” Wreath asked.

“A list of what you’re looking for. I use lists to help me think.”

“Oh,” Wreath said. “So do I.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said.

“Well … thanks for the help.”

“Wreath,” he called as she headed out the door.

She stopped and turned.

“When you have a few minutes, I’d like to talk about your plans for the future.”

“Sure.” Lots of people had asked her about college. She didn’t know why J. D. looked so sober as he mentioned the topic. “Let me get the window done,” she said, “and we can visit. Maybe Faye’ll join us for a cup of tea.”

“That’d be nice,” he said.

Wreath pulled the stepladder out of the closet and noticed the messy remnants of a package of cookies. “You must have had a hungry bunch in today,” she yelled to Faye, who stood staring out the front window.

“We had a few lookers, and I sold that wicker settee you liked so much,” Faye called back.

Wreath dug through the cabinet. “Who ate all the snacks? I’d better put the grocery store on my to-do list.” She dug through her pack, stuffed in its usual spot under the workroom table, and made a few notes. “We need extras for that bride and her mother coming tomorrow to look for favors.”