Charlotte Figg Takes Over Paradise (19 page)

W
e practiced several more times that spring, and I'd like to say that the Angels were shaping up to be a pretty good team. But I couldn't. Marlabeth still had a habit of running the wrong direction; Ginger thought she was invisible and kept trying to steal bases, even though I told her that in softball there is no stealing; and Gwendolyn only cared about hitting the ball and couldn't catch a pop fly or a grounder if her life depended on it.

Rose was without a doubt the worst catcher I had ever seen. She couldn't throw the ball as far as second base, but she could hit. For some reason, every single time Rose got up to bat, she hit away, nearly out of the park. I think she enjoyed watching Edwina and Greta run around like Keystone Kops.

For the most part the husbands stayed well behaved. Rube and Charlie even came out to one of our late-day practices and pitched batting practice and even gave out some pointers on fielding.

"I got to tell you, Charlotte," Rube said. He towered over me like an oak over a sapling pine. "This is the motliest group of ball players I have ever seen."

"Then why don't you help?" Asa called. "Especially Rose. She's gonna lose every single game for us on pass balls if she don't learn to catch something. I gave her the biggest glove I could find and she still can't catch."

"Must have a hole in it," Rose hollered from home plate. "I keep putting it in the right place, but that dang ball just keeps going on past me."

Rube took his cap off and scratched his head a second."Well, don't rightly know what I can do, except . . . "

He stood behind Rose and asked Frankie to pitch a few. Rose caught one out of seven. "I see what you're doing. You have to keep your eyes open, Rose. If you keep closing your eyes when Frankie pitches, you'll never catch it. This is why there are no blind catchers in professional ball."

"But I can't help it. It's not like I am consciously closing my eyes. It just happens. It's a reaction I have when a large object is hurled at my face."

"Now, Rose," Frankie said. "Rube's right. You'll never catch a thing if you don't look for it. We give you that face mask for a reason, not just because it looks so nice." Then she giggled and went back to her pitcher's circle.

Rose crouched back down in her catcher's position. "It's getting hot." Rose still wore that heavy brown sweater that covered up her tattoos.

"It would also help if you took that sweater off," Frankie said.

"Go on, Rose," I said. "I've been telling you that for days. It's got to be hard to move in that thing."

Rose stood up and began to unbutton her sweater. I took a deep breath for her and held it as she released each one—six altogether.

"Go on, Rose," I said. "You know you're safe here."

She removed the sweater and exposed her scars and tattoos.

"Holy cannolies," Rube hollered. "What you got going on there, darlin'?" He reached out to touch her arm. But she pulled it away. "Looks like you just jumped off a stage at the
Believe It or Not
museum and—those are burn scars, woman. What the—"

Rose looked at me in horror as the rest of the team gathered around.

"I told you," she said. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Not everyone here knows about me."

"Most of us do," Frankie said. "I think they're beautiful. Why—why look at those pictures. I see Mary and Jesus and three crosses and what is that? A river?"

"The Jordan," Rose said. "It's where Jesus was baptized."

Ginger scooted into the middle. "I've been telling her all along that she is a walking work of art."

"Is this what her problem is?" Greta asked. "She's embarrassed about the tattoos and scars?"

"That's right," I said. "No one outside of Paradise has seen them."

Rose took my arm. She whispered, "No one except you and Asa knows the truth about the scars."

"Okay. I'll keep your secret."

Greta waved her hand. "Who cares, Rose? You be proud of them. They mean so much, you know."

"Don't you dare cover them up," Marlabeth said. "My goodness, woman, you got a whole art show on your arms. You just keep slathering on that cream I gave you to keep your skin smooth and supple."

Rose cried. She let the tears come that afternoon, surrounded by the Angels.

"Just one question," asked Marlabeth after a minute or two."What happened that you have all those scars? Looks like burns to me."

"It was." Rose nodded and looked at her feet. "A fire."

A collective gasp went up in the small crowd. "Oh, my precious Lord," Frankie said. "You poor thing."

"Okay, okay," I said. "Let's get back to practice. Our first game is just three days away."

Everyone went back to their places. Frankie pitched to Ginger, and Rose caught the ball pretty much every time.

"Now, see," I heard Rube say. "If you keep your eyes open and take off the heavy stuff, it gets a lot easier."

A short while later I noticed the women were getting tired, their kids were getting cranky, and it was time to call it a day. Fleur de Lee had slowed down. She was waddling quite a bit. She waddled out onto the field and spoke with Marlabeth."You still have two weeks, maybe more," Marlabeth said. "First babies are always late."

"I don't know about that, Miss Marla. This baby is itching to get out into the real world."

Marlabeth touched her belly. "Two weeks, Fleur de Lee."

I blew my whistle and waved the team in for a short meeting along the third base line as Fleur de Lee made her way back to the children.

"Our first game is only three days away, and I think we're looking pretty good."

"Yes. Yes, you are," came a voice from out of the woods.

We all turned in that direction. Cash Vangarten traipsed onto the field.

"He's been spying on us, I bet," I whispered to Rose.

"Who is he?" she whispered back.

"Mr. Vangarten," I called. I moved toward him. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," he said. "And I got say," he snorted, "looks like the Thunder won't have a chance against you."

I introduced him. "This is Mr. Cash Vangarten. The man I told you about. The fella from the Pink Lady."

"He's our representative at Elsmere Elastic."

"I know who he is," Rube said. "He's the boss." Rube did not look thrilled to see him.

"And like I told you," I said, "Mr. Vangarten coaches the Shoops Thunder."

"So you are spying," Rose said. "You got no right—"

"You want me to run him off our property?" Edwina called."I got my shotgun right over there."

Vangarten put his hands in the air, "Whoa, whoa, John Wayne, I come in peace. I just came to give Charlotte a receipt and let you all know that your uniforms will be ready tomorrow."

"Uniforms," Frankie said. "I can't wait. Are they purple and white?"

"With our name on them?" said Greta.

"And Elsmere Elastic on the back," Vangarten said.

"Thank you, Mr. Vangarten," I said.

His eyes grew soft again when he looked at me. "When are you going to start calling me Cash?"

"Okay, Cash," I said. "Thank you very much for bringing that receipt."

"Now get off our field, you no-good spy," Ginger said. "You didn't need to come way out here for this."

Vangarten backed off. "Testy group you got here, Mrs. Figg."

"Call me Charlotte," I said before I even had a chance to think.

"You'll be tested, all right," Ginger piped. "Next Tuesday."

Cash put his hands in the air in an act of surrender. "I best be going before I get filled full of buckshot."

We all watched until Cash was out of sight.

Thomasina put her hands on her hips. "What gives him the right to come on our field and—"

"Don't worry about it," I said. "From what he says, the Thunder haven't got a chance against us. Now listen up. The big game is next Tuesday."

I went on to give them a pep talk, but they were really only interested in the uniforms.

"When can we get them?"

Asa chimed in, "I'll drive into Wilkes-Barre tomorrow and get them."

"Then you all come by my trailer and we'll give them out. I hope I got enough sizes to go around." I looked at Ginger. "I had to have yours special ordered, Ginger. So it might not be with the others."

"That's okay," she said. "I can still play on Tuesday without it, right?"

"Sure. Uniforms are not mandatory."

"Have you got anything purple?" Frankie asked.

"I do," Ginger said. "And I can sew some letters on a tee shirt. I can make the word
Angels
out of felt or something."

"Good idea," I said. And that was when Rube and Charlie reminded us they were still there.

"I don't like the idea of our boss being here next Tuesday," Rube said. "I ain't coming if he's here."

Frankie elbowed him in the spleen. "You will be here, Rube Felker. He ain't your boss on this field."

"That's right," said Greta. She grabbed Charlie's arm. "Leave the elastic at the factory. He's just a man like all the rest. He can't fire or hire on Angel field. And he can't boss you around."

Ginger raised her hands so we'd notice her. "You might say Cash Vangarten's authority does not
stretch
this far." Then she laughed and soon everyone laughed.

The men looked at each other. And then it was like the same idea entered their brains at the very same time.

"That's right," Rube said. "In fact, Frankie, I am going to practice with you all weekend, and you too, Greta, and all you girls if you want. We're gonna beat the snot out of the Thunder."

With that the team cheered and tossed their gloves in the air in anticipation of certain victory.

"We are the Angels," called Marlabeth. "We won't be the second-best team on this field next week. And I have vitamin drinks for everyone too."

There were no cheers for Marlabeth's vitamin drinks. Most of us have tasted one kind or the other and they tasted pretty much like seaweed. Might be because there was seaweed mixed in the concoction. But I applauded her interest.

A
s usual on Friday evening, Rose and Asa came by for dinner. It was the first day of summer. A cool breeze blew down from the mountains and brought the smell of pine and honeysuckle with it.

When I looked in the fridge, I didn't see much to make. I would need to go grocery shopping. I did find pork chops, however, and thought they would go nicely with mashed potatoes and salad. I'd had a hankering for mashed potatoes, so I peeled and quartered six nice russets and dropped them in salted water.

Rose and Asa arrived together.

"Hey, Charlotte," Asa said. "What's for supper? I'm starved."

"Pork chops."

"Sounds good." Asa flipped on the TV and sat on the sofa. Rose helped me in the kitchen.

"I thought practice went well," I said.

"It sure did," Asa said. "There's some real talent on the team. We just have to get Marlabeth to run the right direction, and Edwina is afraid of the ball or something."

Rose set the table.

"Use the cloth napkins," I said. "The pretty ones with the daisies on the edge. It is summer, after all. We should be summery, don't you think?"

Rose's mind was still on the practice. "Except for that Cash Vangarten spying on us."

I watched her toss Asa a sideways glance. "Or should I say spy on Charlotte?"

"Me?" I tested the potatoes with a fork. "Few more minutes."

I tossed Asa a can of Coke. He placed it between his knees and popped the top. "Rose thinks he's sweet on you."

"Oh, pish. He just came by with that lame excuse about the uniforms so he could get a look at our team."

"Whatever you say," Rose said.

I drained the spuds. "Come to think of it, Rose, I did tell him we were championship caliber." I laughed and beat the potatoes with a little more gusto.

"You what?"

"Well, he was giving me such a hard time, a real chauvinist, that day at the factory about Ha—"

Rose made wide eyes at me and tilted her head toward Asa.

"Anyway," I said. "It doesn't matter, really. He was just bothering me."

"I can see why. There's just something troublesome about him."

I called Asa to the table.

"Got any applesauce, Charlotte?" Rose asked. "I always like applesauce with chops."

"I sure do. Made some yesterday."

"Made it?" Asa said. "You can make applesauce?"

"Simple," I said. "I used Pink Lady apples, so it might be a little tart."

I plopped a spoonful in a bowl and set it on the table near Asa. "Got cinnamon?" he asked, looking up at me with his quiet blue eyes.

"Pink Lady. Isn't that the name of the restaurant where you met Cash?" Rose asked, even though I knew she knew the answer.

"Aha," Asa said. "Methinks the lady of the trailer has a crush."

"I do not." I tapped the potato masher against the pot. "My husband—my late husband—has not been late for all that long. I am not interested in starting a romance." I turned my wedding ring around on my finger and wondered how long I was supposed to wear it.

"All right, Charlotte," Rose said. "We're just playing with you."

Rose tried to cut Asa's chop, but he shooed her off. "I'll just pick it up like a chicken leg, if you don't mind."

"Just don't do that in a five-star restaurant," I said.

Asa chomped off a good bit of chop. "This is good," he said with his mouth full. "What's it got on it?"

"Milk. They're called milk-fed pork chops."

Asa finished off his chop down to the bone and was just about to sneak it to Lucky, who was sitting patiently nearby waiting for scraps of any sort to reach his snout.

"Don't give him that," I said. "The vet said those little bones aren't good for dogs. They splinter and get stuck in places they shouldn't."

"How about my salad, then?" Asa said.

I shook my head. "The runs. Lettuce will give him the runs."

"So when are you going to come clean about Hazel Crenshaw?" he asked.

I looked at Rose, who looked immediately away.

"Rose, did you—"

"No, no," said Asa. "You've just been over at her place a lot, and just now, a few minutes ago, I heard you say her name."

I dropped my fork in my plate and sipped water.

"You better tell him, Charlotte," Rose said.

"Oh, all right. Hazel Crenshaw is not who you think she is. She's actually"—and I leaned closer to him—"a spy for the CIA."

"Get out, Charlotte," Asa said. "She is not."

"Okay, okay. I'll tell you, but you have to swear up and down and six ways to China that you won't breathe this to another living soul."

Asa raised his hand and then crossed his heart. "I solemnly promise never to tell—"

A slight knock on the door kept him from completing his oath.

"Now, who could that be?" I asked.

"Sounds like Ginger's knock," Rose said.

Lucky barked once and went to sniff around the door.

"One way to find out."

I pulled open the door and was just about to say, "Hi Ginger," when I saw Suzy Wrinkel standing on the stoop.

"Suzy," I said, practically choking out the word. "Suzy you—"

Rose and Asa crowded behind me. I tried to shoo them away, but too late. Suzy stepped back and turned to leave like a case of the willies had just struck. I reached out and grabbed her arm. The one in the cast. I didn't realize I did it. "Please, Suzy. You came for a reason."

She stopped and turned back. I watched her swallow a lump the size of my Galaxy.

"Really, it's okay."

"Yeah, Suzy," said Asa. "Hi."

"Please, Suzy. Come inside. It's okay," I said.

Rose touched Suzy's cheek. "Hi, Suzy. I'm Rose, remember? We met once down near the trash heap."

Suzy twisted her mouth. "You were throwing out a lamp."

"That's right," Rose said. "Good memory."

I saw the way Asa looked at Suzy. Talk about making eyes at someone.

I still had hold of Suzy's hand. "Are you hungry? We were just having dinner. Pork chops and—"

She shook her head. "I can't stay long. Fergus will be home soon. I only wanted to come by and say thank you and return your pie plate."

"Thank you?" I said. "For what?"

"The pie. I had a slice. It was real good."

"Glad you enjoyed it."

Suzy had a nice smile. "Fergus ate the whole thing that night," she continued. "He asked me where I got it, and . . . and I lied to him." She swiped a tear. "I told him I baked it and now he's asking for another and I . . . " She started to blubber like a baby. "I don't bake pie, Charlotte. I never baked a pie in my life. I never even saw a person bake a pie. My mother never—"

I went to put my arms around her slight body, but she pulled away. "Don't you worry, Suzy. I got pie in the kitchen."

Rose's forehead wrinkled so much I thought you could slip a nickel in the folds. "You mean that husband of yours expects you to make pie with a broken arm?"

Suzy nodded. "It's not the whole arm. Just one tiny bone in my wrist. Not too serious. I've been getting along just fine. Can do pretty much everything I did before."

Asa shrugged his right shoulder and made the empty tee shirt sleeve flap like a wing. "Not so hard once you get used to it."

Suzy cracked a smile and looked into Asa's eyes. Rose and I looked at each other and smiled, but I quickly brought my attention back to Suzy.

"Come on, Suzy," I said. "You were just about to tell us how you broke your wrist."

"I fell down the trailer steps." She answered quickly, like she had been ready with that answer for days.

"When?" Rose asked.

"That morning." She looked at me. "That morning you saw me and Fergus."

"Uh-huh," was all I could say, but inside I was begging her to tell the truth. "Let me get you a pie."

"Charlotte always has pie," Rose said.

"Most of the time I do. Now you can take it home and tell Fergus you made it and I'll bake a couple more and bring them by when I don't see his truck, if that's okay, and we'll keep him up to his ears in pie."

"You would do that, Charlotte?" Suzy said. "You would make pie for Fergus?"

"I will, though Lord knows he doesn't deserve it. Now hold on. Let me get your pie. Just bring me back the tins." Maybe, just maybe, if Fergus was too busy filling his mouth with pie, he wouldn't hurt Suzy. And I didn't really care about the pie tins. I figured asking for them back was a way of getting her out of the trailer on a regular basis.

Asa looked like he was about to split a gut. His face was redder than a pomegranate. "Come on, Suzy. You can't keep saying you have accidents."

I grabbed his arm and shushed him. "Let her be, Asa."

"But . . . but, that Fergus don't deserve pie. What he deserves is a—"

"Asa," Suzy said, her voice as sweet and soft as condensed milk. "It's okay."

I took a lattice-crust cherry that was missing a slice from the kitchen counter. "You just tell him you got hungry."

She took the pie. "Thank you."

"Try serving it warmed up with a tall glass of cold milk. You be sure and get a piece for yourself, maybe two, you're so skinny, before Fergus gets to it."

Rose lifted the pie to her nose. "It smells sweet and delicious. Better than store-bought, that's for sure."

I cringed at the words
store-bought.

"Maybe Charlotte can teach you how to make pie some day," Rose said.

"I'd like that, Suzy. I could teach you how to make pie."

"That's okay. I might be able to learn myself if I practice a while."

"Maybe," I said. "But sometimes it helps to have a friend close by when you're making crust. Proper crust can be tricky, takes some finesse."

"Thank you, Charlotte. Thank you so much. Now I better be getting back." Suzy moved to the front door. "If Fergus finds out that . . . Well, I just need to get home."

"If Fergus finds out what?" I asked.

Suzy looked into my eyes, and piercing sadness shot right out of hers into my brain. I could feel her pain. "Fergus won't know," I said.

"Does he hurt you, Suzy?" Rose asked. "Does Fergus hit—"

"Course he does," Asa said. "I just don't know why she doesn't just leave him."

"Stop talking like that, Asa," Suzy said. "If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn't have come. Now, there isn't anything going on like that. Fergus just likes me to be home is all."She moved toward the door.

Suzy slinked out the front door. Asa and I rushed to the kitchen window, and I watched her as far as I could see her. I turned from the window. Asa kept looking outside.

"Well, if that don't beat all," Rose said slapping her knee. "I can't believe Suzy came here."

"The power of pie, Rose. It's the power of pie. But why'd you go and ask her if Fergus hit her? I don't want to scare her away. It even made me nervous. And you, Asa, why do you want to give her more pressure? What do you expect her to do?"

"She knows, Charlotte. She knows what she needs to do. She just won't do it."

"She's not ready," Rose said. "She needs to get to a place where she can stand up to him and not care what he says or does. Like when I was being held by that maniac. I never told anyone this, but there was a moment right before I set the fire that I had a second thought. He looked so pitiful and pathetic lying drunk in that bed. I almost didn't do it."

I took a deep breath, and Lucky toddled near me. I patted his head. "I understand, Rose. Having a heart capable of all that compassion is a hard thing sometimes. It makes us do the wrong thing."

Asa, who had returned to his dinner, practically had steam coming out of his ears. "He's gonna kill her one day. That's what worries me. I been telling her for months." He dug at his mashed potatoes.

"Months?" I said. "You knew about this and you never told anyone?"

"She told me not to."

I picked at my pork chop and then took a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Can't we help her?" Rose asked. "I've been praying that we can find a way."

Rose and Asa both looked at me like I held the answer to the Riddle of the Sphinx. "Why are you looking at me? What can I do?"