A Smidgen of Sky (16 page)

Mama straightened her shoulders. “We're getting by. Thank you.”

He held out one of the bags. “Here's a comfort pack.”

I was curious to see what was inside, but Mama didn't open it right away, so I made myself wait. Mr. Stevens dropped down onto the bleacher below us. His tie was a big, loose loop around his neck. “This is some day, isn't it? Who are you waiting for?”

“Ben Hutchings,” Mama said. “He's one of the guards.”

Mr. Stevens broke into a big smile. “Oh, sure. I know Ben.”

Ginger perked right up. “You know my daddy?”

“Sure do. We run into each other at the snack machine quite often. Seems we both have a weakness for honey-roasted peanuts.”

Ginger and Mama gave each other a knowing smile. I thought about how I didn't even know Ben liked peanuts.

“Did you see him today?” Mama asked.

“No. But I did a few days back. He said something about only working half a day today, that he had someplace to take his three favorite girls.”

Had Ben truly included me right along with Mama and Ginger?

“The air show,” Mama said. She touched my knee. “Piper Lee loves airplanes.”

Mr. Stevens winked at me. “Well, I'm sure sorry this had to happen instead. But I bet he'll find some way to make it up to you.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. But I knew Ben didn't have a single thing to make up to me.

Mr. Stevens glanced at his watch. “If you decide to spend the night, there are pillows and blankets available. Or if you'd rather, you can go home, and I'll notify you of any new developments right away.”

“I think we'll stay awhile yet,” Mama said.

“All right. Remember, there's plenty of hot coffee over there.”

“I know,” Mama said. “I think I've already drunk a gallon of it.”

I counted fifteen people in the gym, most sitting in quiet little groups—a lady with two teenage boys, an old couple holding hands, a woman with a little girl who looked about five years old, her hair all done up in cornrow braids.

“So what's a comfort pack?” I asked.

Mama raised her eyebrows. “Why don't you check it out for us?”

I set each item on the bench in front of us. Cherry lip balm, Kleenex, a toothbrush and tiny tube of Crest paste, a bottle of water, soap, two packs of tropical flavor Life Savers, and a deck of cards.

“Want to play crazy eights, Ginger?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Mama sipped the bottled water while Ginger and I sucked on Life Savers and played cards. After a while Mama opened the pack of Kleenex and blew her nose. Then she said, “How do you feel about spending the night?”

“I'm not leaving,” Ginger said.

“Me neither,” I said.

Mama seemed relieved. “Good. Then we'll stay.”

It was quiet in the gym now, but my ears still hummed from all the earlier noise. By the time we'd played our third game of crazy eights, it seemed like too much work to hold my head up.

Ginger slid the cards back into their box. I rested my feet on the bleacher below me and put my head down on my arms. Mama rubbed my back.

We all sat there, each thinking our own thoughts for a while. Then Mama yawned. “I think I'll go ask Mr. Stevens about those pillows he mentioned.”

“Heather?” Ginger asked. “Do you think Daddy's scared?”

Mama gazed up at the ceiling. “I don't know, honey. I'm sure he has plenty on his mind.”

“What do you think he's thinking about?”

“Us,” she said. “I'll bet he's thinking 'bout us.”

They smiled at each other, just like they'd smiled about the honey-roasted peanuts. I thought about the money I'd saved for the air show, and I wondered how many peanuts I could buy for thirteen dollars.

 

M
R
. S
TEVENS TURNED
out some of the lights, but it didn't make it any easier to sleep. The bleachers were too hard, and my pillow slipped every time I changed position. Ginger stretched out one row above me. Mama just propped a pillow behind her back and leaned her head on one hand. Every time I opened my eyes, hers were open too.

If something happened to Ben, would Ginger stay with me and Mama? If she did, would we live in our apartment or move into Ben's house? My bedroom was pretty small, but Ginger's was big—hers would be better. I thought about what life might be like if Ben and Mama made up and got married. We'd probably go swimming a lot. Maybe Ben would cup his hands and let me step into them and toss me into the water like he did with Ginger. Then we'd go home afterward and have chicken for supper or maybe barbecue some pork.

Come fall we'd watch lots of football and eat some of the good stuff from Mama's garden—sweet corn and peas, for sure, probably tomatoes and beans, but no okra. I'd talk her out of planting okra.

Maybe Ben would finally get his old Mustang fixed up real fancy and drive it in the Fourth of July parade. Ginger and I could ride in the back and toss red-hots and root-beer barrels to all the little kids begging for candy along the sidewalk.

Mama sucked in a sharp breath, and the sound yanked me out of my daydream.

I sat up and followed her gaze to the middle of the gym, where Mr. Stevens stood grinning. He didn't even bother with the microphone this time, just waved his hands and said, “Okay, everybody. I've got some news you're all going to want to hear. I've just received word that the crisis is officially over. The rioters have been taken into custody and the hostages released. You can meet up with your loved ones at Maycomb Hospital. Please drive safely, and God bless.”

The air exploded with voices crying “Praise the Lord!” and “Thank God Almighty!”

Ginger jumped off the bleachers and hopped around like some wild rabbit. “That means Daddy's okay, doesn't it, Heather? It means he's okay.”

“I'm just sure of it,” Mama said, “but let's go find out for ourselves.”

I don't remember much about our trip to the hospital, just that it seemed to take a long time, even though it was only a couple miles away and even though Mama drove thirty-nine miles an hour instead of the twenty-five she was supposed to.

Everybody from the school got there about the same time, and a whole rush of people filled the hospital lobby. We had to wait in line before a nurse checked her charts and pointed us down the hall to room 114. Mama walked as fast as she could without running, and Ginger and I trotted along beside her.

The door to room 114 was open, and there was Ben, slumped on the side of the bed, looking dead tired. But as soon as he saw us, his whole face lit up. He made it to his feet right before Ginger flew into him with Mama half a step behind. He didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around them and dropped his head low against Mama's.

I hovered a few steps back, feeling like a racehorse trapped behind its gate. But then Ben raised his head and said, “You get over here, Piper Lee,” and I bolted over to wiggle my way in between Mama and Ginger.

The four of us stayed all locked up like that until Mama finally stepped back and noticed the gash on Ben's forehead. “Oh,” she said, “your poor, poor head.”

Ben smiled and gently put his hand around Mama's to keep her from touching the cut. “I told 'em I was just fine,” he said. “But the nurse says I can't leave until they stitch it up.”

“And your hand,” Ginger said. “You hurt it, too.”

Ben glanced at the dried blood on his skinned knuckles and winked at her. “Yeah, just a little, but you should see the other guy.”

Ginger and I giggled, but Mama glared up at him and even stamped her foot. “Don't you dare make jokes, Ben Hutchings. Not a bit of this is funny. Not a bit. The girls and I just spent the past twelve hours terrified to death, not knowing if you . . . if we'd ever . . .” Mama's voice cracked and her words trailed off in a sob.

Ben pulled her close. “Hush now, Heather. I didn't mean it like that. And I'm real sorry about Thursday, too. You were right and I was wrong.”

Mama shook her head. “No, no. I'm the sorry one. I had no right to blame you for something outta your control.”

“Does that mean the wedding's back on?” Ben asked.

“I'd sure like it to be,” Mama said.

Ginger bumped me with her elbow and pointed to the clock. “Looky there. It's one in the morning. I've never gotten to stay up this late before.” Then she yawned, and that got me doing the same thing. I went and curled up in one of the padded chairs over by the window.

Mama sat on the bed with Ben, clinging to his hand as though she never planned to let go. Ginger sat on his other side and asked a bunch of questions about the riot. Ben wouldn't say much about what had happened inside the prison, but when Ginger mentioned Mr. Stevens and the honey-roasted peanuts, he chuckled and said, “Yeah, that Carl's a good guy.”

Then all of a sudden he looked over at me and said, “We never got to have that talk of ours, did we?”

I tensed up and bowed my head. “No, sir. I guess not.”

“Well, we still can,” Mama said. “How 'bout tomorrow?”

“I got a better idea,” Ben said, looking at Mama. “Let's forget the talk and get married tomorrow instead.”

I snapped my head up, sure I'd heard him wrong. But the way Ginger's mouth dropped open told me I'd heard right.

Mama grinned. She shook her head. “Tomorrow? Have you lost your marbles? We can't get married tomorrow.”

Ben's eyes crinkled at the corners. “Why not? You just told me the wedding was back on. If not tomorrow, how 'bout next Saturday?”

“But . . . but the date's all set.”

“Heather DeLuna, are you gonna marry me or not? 'Cause if you are, I don't wanna wait another month.”

Mama searched his face. “But that don't give me enough time.”

“Time for what? You and the girls have your dresses. We got the rings. The guests can take pictures for us.”

“But the cake,” Mama said. “And the flowers.”

“I can make the cake,” Ginger piped up. “Any kind you like, Heather. I can make a real good chocolate cake.”

“And I know where there's a bunch of flowers,” I said, unable to resist the sudden excitement swooping around the room. “Miss Claudia won't mind a bit if we pick 'em.”

Mama shook her head. She put her fingertips to her temples. “I believe you've all lost your marbles,” she said. Then she looked from one to the other of us and started to laugh. “Y'all are serious, aren't you ?. . . It won't be much of a wedding.”

“All the wedding I need,” Ben said. And he took Mama's face in his hands and started kissing her. And it was the most disgusting thing, because they were still kissing when the nurse came in to stitch up Ben's cut.

“Well, now,” she said when she came into the room and caught them. “I was gonna apologize for makin' you wait, but it seems you didn't mind so much.”

“No, ma'am,” Ben said. “Not at all.”

The nurse smiled around the room at each of us. I knew she thought that Mama and Ben were husband and wife and that me and Ginger were their kids. But I smiled back at her anyhow, and it made me feel good, because I felt sure Daddy wouldn't mind. After all, I'd always be his daughter; I'd always love him. But that didn't mean I couldn't be part of something new.

 

S
ATURDAY DAWNED CLEAR
and bright and sticky hot. Mama and Ben decided to get married in Charlesburg Park, seeing as how the church wasn't available on such short notice. My yellow dress pinched at the waist and prickled at the neck, and the stiff netting made my legs itch. But Miss Claudia made me laugh when she gave me a secret wink and said, “Why, Piper Lee. I believe you've got the prettiest dress I've ever laid eyes on.”

Ginger didn't seem bothered by her dress in the least. Her bra caused a slight ripple in the material, and I hoped my new bra caused a ripple, too, but Ginger never gave me the chance to ask. She pranced around the guests like some hired hostess, handing out construction-paper fans and thanking everyone for coming.