A Smidgen of Sky (8 page)

I raced home as fast as I could pedal, feeling so full of myself that I could've lifted right off the seat and flown. Not only did I find Tina, I might've found out something about Daddy, too.

I checked in with Miss Claudia and took a minute to ooh and aah over her progress on the potholders before slipping back across the hall. I hovered at the kitchen table, studying Tina's phone number for a good ten minutes. Finally I found the courage to pick up the phone.

I punched in a 1 and then the ten-digit number, clutching the phone real tight.

One ring.

Two rings.

Maybe nobody was home.

Three rings.

Four rings.

What if an answering machine came on?

“Hello?” The lady's voice paralyzed me.

“Hello?” she repeated.

“Uh, yes, ma'am, hello,” I got breath enough to say. “I—I'm looking for Tina. Tina Lyman.”

“This is Tina.”

“Are you the Tina that used to live in Georgia?”

“At one time I did. Who is this?”

“My name's Piper Lee. I think you and my mama went to school together.” The lie slid off my tongue as slick as melted butter off a cob of sweet corn.

“Oh, really? Who's your mom?”

“Her name's Heather. Heather DeLuna.”

“I don't recognize the name. Are you sure you have the right Tina?”

My mouth turned as dry as sunbaked clay. “This isn't some sort of joke, is it?” she asked. “Because I was just on my way out and I don't have time to fool around.”

“Are you Ginger's mama?” I blurted.

Silence.

It went on so long, I feared maybe she had hung up on me. But then she said, “How do you know Ginger?”

I almost hung up myself. If I answered that question, there was no turning back. “Her daddy's gonna marry my mama.”

The lady made a strange little whistling noise under her breath. “Ben's getting remarried?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“When?”

“September tenth.”

“Oh . . . wow. What's your mama's name, again?”

“Heather DeLuna.”

“Tell me about her. I bet she's pretty.”

I didn't know what to say. Why ask about Mama? She was supposed to ask about Ginger. “Well, yeah, she's pretty . . . um, and she's a waitress.”

“How long has she been dating Ben?”

“About a year now.”

“Does he still work at the prison?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Why did you call me, Piper Lee?”

I swallowed. “I found your number. I—I did it for Ginger. She talks about you sometimes.”

“Yeah? What's she say?”

“I think she just wonders about you, is all. How you are.”
And why you walked out on her,
I almost added.

“Well, she's got a great father. She doesn't need me. I'm afraid to say I've never been too much of a kid person.”

I replayed those words over in my head, listening real hard, sure I'd missed something—something to show she was sorry about the way things had worked out. But there was nothing.

“She wants to be a cheerleader,” I said.

Tina laughed. “Oh, well, she must have a bit of me in her. I was on the drill team.”

“I guess she must.”

“Well, if there's nothing more you need, I better go. You tell Ginger hi and that I'm doing fine and that I hope she is, too. All right?”

“All right,” I said. She hung up before I could say goodbye. I sat there, full of shivers, trying to puzzle out why the conversation had gone so differently than I'd figured it would. Tina was supposed to have been all excited that Ginger was thinking about her. She was supposed to ask what grade Ginger was in, about her favorite class, what kinds of things she liked to do. Maybe how tall she'd gotten, or what she looked like now—the things any mama would want to know.

I balled up the paper with Tina's number and hurled it into the living room. Then I went and flopped down beside the patch of sun where Mowgli lay. His sleepy eyes widened with alarm.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I know how you feel.”

I'd found Tina, but how was I supposed to get her back into Ginger's life when she acted as if she didn't care? And if she didn't care, how on earth was I supposed to get her back together with Ben?

Mowgli fixed me with a furious look.

“Don't worry your flat face,” I said. “I'm the one with the problem.”

I reached out and grabbed the ball of paper, smoothing the worst of the wrinkles. Something told me to hang on to it a bit longer. I took it into my bedroom and opened the cover of my aviation scrapbook. Daddy grinned out at me. I placed the paper on the lower half of the page, where it wouldn't cover his face. “Keep this safe for me,” I said. “I just might need it again.”

 

M
AMA AND
I headed to Ben's for supper that evening. My rumbling belly did a pretty good job of pushing the day's events to the back of my mind. It's tough to think on an empty belly.

Ben sizzled pork patties on the barbecue, and the smell made me crazy hungry. I guess it drove the hornets crazy, too, on account of how they grouped overhead. Ginger and I crunched on pork rinds until Mama handed each of us a wedge of watermelon instead.

One of the hornets landed on Ginger's watermelon right as she raised it to her mouth. “Watch out,” I said, and slapped at her hands. She squealed like a stuck pig and dropped her watermelon in the dirt.

She stared down at it. “I almost got stung right in the mouth.”

I pictured Ginger with her head puffed up like a balloon—a balloon with a French braid. “Probably would've swelled your tongue so bad you couldn't talk. That would've been something.”

Ginger didn't act bothered by the teasing. She was busy keeping count of the hornets on her melon. “Three of them now.”

“The meat's about done,” Ben said a moment later. “Y'all can go in and get your buns ready.”

Mama led the way inside. She sliced some Vidalia onions and opened up a big can of pork and beans. I looked at all the beans floating around in the brown-sugar sauce and wondered why they bothered to put the word
pork
on the label. They were just beans with a tiny piece of fat. They sure did taste good, though. Ginger and I pulled out the mayonnaise and pepper sauce and an icy cold six-pack of root beer from the fridge.

Ben brought in a platter of steaming meat, waving the hornets away as he came through the door. We'd just started passing food around the table when the phone rang.

“Don't answer it, Daddy,” Ginger said. “Just say the blessing. I'm starved.”

Ben hesitated, then shrugged and said, “Aw, just let the machine get it.” He said a quick blessing over the ringing.

I took my first bite, and the wonderful salty taste of smoked pork filled my mouth.

“Hello there, Ben,” said a lady's voice on the machine. I nearly choked. I knew that voice. It was Tina.

I could tell Ben knew, too. He froze, the bottle of pepper sauce tilted in his hand.

“I hear you're getting married,” she continued. “I just wanted to say congratulations and maybe talk to Ginger a bit. Sometimes I miss that little girl an awful lot, you know. I'll give a call back tomorrow night and see if you're around then.”

Ginger looked as though somebody had sneaked up and walloped her from behind. “That was Mama. That was her, wasn't it, Daddy?”

Ben lowered the bottle of pepper sauce.

“I believe . . . so,” Mama answered for him.

“How in the world would she know about the wedding?” Ben said. “We haven't spoken a word in ages.”

I got a real strong urge to go pee. I buried my face in a big bite of pork patty.

Ginger dashed over to the answering machine and replayed the message. “She's gonna call again tomorrow. Can I talk to her?”

Ben grimaced as though he'd been stung by a hornet. “In a pig's eye.”

Ginger's face turned into a huge wrinkle. “What? Why not? She misses me, didn't you hear? She wants to talk to me!” Her voice went up, up, up, with each word till she was nearly hollering by the last one.

Ben shoved his chair back. “Scuse me a minute.” The screen door creaked open and slammed behind him. The whoosh of air sent a ball of plastic wrap rolling across the table.

Ginger crept back over and peered into Mama's face. “Why doesn't he want me to talk to her, Heather? I need to. I've never got to before.”

Mama's eyes darted from Ginger to me to the screen door. I could tell she didn't have a clue what to say. “I think he's just a little put-out right now, honey. Give him a minute.”

My insides felt as shook up as a bottle of salad dressing. I couldn't believe Tina had actually called.
Sometimes I miss that little girl an awful lot.
Why did she pretend to miss Ginger when she hadn't even asked me about her?
I'll give a call back tomorrow night.
Would she? And if she did call, would she tell Ben how she'd learned of the wedding? How in the world would I explain myself? And how come I'd been so dumb as not to see this problem ahead of time?

Ginger slipped back into her chair. I picked at the rest of my food, but there wasn't much left of my appetite. After a while, Mama lifted her glass of sweet tea and stood. “I think I'll go check on your daddy now.”

“Tell him I need to talk to her,” Ginger whispered. “Please?”

The screen door creaked open again, and Mama let it close gently behind her.

Ginger kneeled in her chair to peek out the kitchen window.

“Can you see them?” I asked.

“They're on the porch swing.” She ducked back down. “I didn't think she'd ever call again. Maybe she does care about me, just a little, no matter what that letter said.”

“Course she does,” I said, thankful that Ginger seemed too distracted to connect me to the phone call.

I started stacking plates, and Ginger put the refrigerator stuff away. We left Ben's plate of food on the table. He hadn't taken a single bite. His and Mama's voices were a low murmur outside, barely loud enough for us to tell which of them was talking. But all of a sudden they got louder, and then louder still, until Ben sounded plain riled up and Mama barely spoke at all. It was the closest they'd ever come to arguing, and knowing it was my fault didn't feel good.

Ben strode through the door a moment later. Ginger and I scooted out of his way as he sat down at the table and took his first bite.

Mama wandered in behind him looking a little teary-eyed. She forced a smile and pushed a strand of hair back from her face. “Come on, Piper Lee. I think we best go home.”

Ben shook his head. “I never said I wanted you to leave, Heather.”

“I know. I just think the two of you need a little time to talk. You can give me a call later if you like.”

“This is not the way supper was s'posed to go.”

Mama patted his shoulder. “I know, guy. But it was a real good supper anyhow, wasn't it, Piper Lee?”

I nodded. “Especially the pork.”

Ginger hovered by the sink, not saying a word, but I could tell she didn't want us to go. I tried to think of something nice to say, but my brain was doing too much bouncing around. “See ya later,” I said.

I waited until we turned off Hillman Lane and onto the main road before asking, “Why doesn't Ben want Ginger to talk to her mama?”

“'Cause, honey. He's worried she might get hurt.”

“Does he think Tina's a bad person?”

“No, not a bad person, just . . . irresponsible, you might say. And he's not real sure what Tina's motive is. He doesn't feel he can trust her.”

“I still don't get it, Mama. How can Ginger get hurt just by talking to her?”

Mama didn't answer right away. She drummed her thumbs on the steering wheel. “You know how sometimes when you only know bits and pieces about somebody, you're forced to let your imagination fill in all the rest? And when it's a person you really wish you knew, you tend to put them up real high on a pedestal, so high they can start to seem almost perfect . . . kind of like you do with your daddy.”

“I know Daddy wasn't perfect.”

“But when you think of him, you only recollect good things, right? Like how he was funny, and brave, and a respected pilot. You probably don't recall how impatient he got with slow drivers, or how he spanked your behind the time you threw your cup of milk off the table, or how he got cranky if I talked too long on the phone. I bet you don't recollect any of those things.”

I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that I remembered lots about Daddy—good and bad. But I couldn't. I felt as though she'd sucker-punched me.

Mama sighed. “Your daddy was all the good things you remember, Piper Lee. But he was also a flesh-and-blood person with quirks and flaws like the rest of us. And so is Tina. In fact, if you look at her track record, she's a downright selfish person. And Ben's afraid Ginger thinks she's near perfect, and that if she talks to her mama and finds out she's not, she might be real disappointed.”