Making Waves (27 page)

Ellis had stepped into the hall when I came out of my room. “I didn't come to see you, Taylor. I came to see Miss Della,” she said frostily, looking past me down the hall.

“Well, too bad, Ellis. Miss Della regrets she's unable to receive callers this morning. Come on, let's step out here on the porch.”

No way, after Aunt Della's spell last night, was I going to let Ellis come around this morning, trying to talk her into coming to stay with them, or going to a nursing home, or whatever the loving Clark Clan had sent her here for.

Our porch was not screened off like the Clark porch—it was wide open for all of Clarksville to see. I motioned to Ellis, and she sat across from me in a rocker I'd always loved—it looked like it was made from twigs. I sat in the big wicker swing and began to swing lazily, but Ellis sat primly on the edge of her seat, her hands, tipped with long red nails, held together in her lap. We were right across the street from the Baptist Church.

“Your old stomping ground, Ellis.” I nodded toward the church, giving the swing a little kick. “I don't guess you miss it, though, now that you are in the rapturous bonds of matrimony with Zion's ex—most eligible bachelor.”

She glared at me without saying anything and I couldn't resist aggravating her a little more.

“You know, I've spent many an hour since I've returned trying to figure out exactly how—and why—you captured old Sonny. I'll just bet you that's quite a story! I'm surprised you haven't been interviewed by the
Zion County Herald
on such a momentous feat.”

When she didn't reply but turned her head haughtily and looked away from me, I pressed on.

“Yes, indeed—quite a story. Of course I myself have had a little sample of your ample charms and can see how you could put such delights to good use. Though I admit I never dreamed—”

I finally succeeded in getting her attention. She turned to me then, her painted face red and furious.

“You shut your mouth, Taylor. Don't you ever say anything about that again—”

I laughed, causing her to jump up from the rocker and grab her purse. The parrots swung crazily from her ears.

“I was thinking, Ellis—maybe now that you are more experienced you might want to try again. Maybe this time we would have more success—”

I had underestimated old Ellis and pushed her too far. Before I realized what had happened, she had swung her arm back with a deadly looking straw purse in hand. If I hadn't grabbed her arm, she would have knocked hell out of me, right there in front of the Baptists, God, and everybody.

“Whoa! Calm down now, Ellis—I was just playing with you some—” I said, laughing.

For the second time that morning, I found myself forcing a woman into a chair. I grabbed both her shoulders and pushed her back down into the rocker, then stood in front of her so she wouldn't come at me again. Ellis was glaring at me like I was the reincarnation of old Satan himself.

“You sorry, low-down bastard—” she muttered furiously.

I let go of her shoulders and backed away, going back to the swing, but this time I, too, sat on the edge, not swinging.

“People in Clarksville keep saying that, Ellis, but surprisingly, Charlotte did marry my daddy. ‘Son of a bitch' might be more appropriate. Try it—I'll even show you how to enunciate—
son-of-a-bitch
.”

“You are sick, Taylor. You are really sick,” she said, shaking her head. Her jaw was so tightly clenched it must have hurt her. Even the dangling parrots glared at me from their upside-down perch.

I shook my head at her and smiled, relaxing now. “Ellis, you must forgive me for not being a gentleman—it's not in my genes. No pun intended. What you don't know is this: your little visit to me that fortuitous, rainy morning was the stuff fantasy is made of—every male adolescent's dream come true.”

“You know perfectly well that what happened—” she said through clenched teeth, “that I was looking for Miss Della that morning—”

“Well, you sure found something else, didn't you? Something that you didn't bargain for, right? How was I to know that you had no experience with men—the vestal Baptist virgin herself, suddenly finding herself awakened to passion by the sight of my half-naked body? Damn, Ellis, that's what I'm telling you—every fantasy I've had since then has stemmed from that experience. Or rather, almost experience.”

“So help me God, Taylor—if you ever breathe a word of that to Hamilton—” Ellis was so upset she was no longer talking in complete sentences. Her breath was coming out in little gasps.

“Jesus, Ellis!” I grinned, pushing the swing off again. “I know I'm not even a half-assed Southern gentleman, but I wouldn't do anything like that!”

“I don't trust you as far as I could throw you—” she spat out at me.

“Give me a break, Ellis. I've never told anyone about it—not Tim, not Cat, no one.”

“I don't believe you.” She folded her bare arms under her boobs, still clutching the murderous purse like a weapon. When she caught me looking at the top of her jumpsuit where her chest heaved like that of a gothic heroine, she hugged herself even tighter.

“Honey, you can believe me, because if I had told anyone, you wouldn't have had to wait so many years to get you a man—they'd have been knocking your door down.”

I feared I'd gone too far again because Ellis moved in the chair as though to lunge at me. Then she suddenly sank back and her red-painted mouth drooped at the corners.

“Hamilton must never, ever know anything,
anything
like—that—happened. I swear, if I lost him—” Her voice trailed off and she stopped. I was surprised as hell. Maybe old Ellis really loved Sonny. I certainly knew she had the potential for great passion.

“Okay, Ellis—I'll drop it. My lips are sealed. It never happened, okay?” I began to swing again then, leaning back and looking at her. “What
did
you come here for this morning, if not to catch me half-clad, awaken my sleeping passion again?”

She took a deep breath and looked straight ahead. “I'd prefer to talk with Miss Della.”

“I've already told you; it's me or nobody. She's bathing, getting dressed now.”

“I don't mind waiting.”

“Okay, Ellis—I won't bullshit you. I don't want her talking to you, or Sonny, or Aunt Opal, or Daddy Clark. Not right now, anyhow. She's not feeling well. She had a little dizzy spell last night. So tell me what you want with her.”

“All right, I will.” Again she looked straight ahead rather than at me. “It's about my sister, Glenda.”

“Glenda? What the hell does she have to do with anything?” I remembered Glenda Rountree—or rather I remembered her when I'd looked her up in my old high school annual. If possible, she was plainer and quieter than Ellis had been back then.

“Like me at her age, Glenda needs to get out of her present situation. I have advised her to do as I did then, and take a room somewhere. Mine was in Columbus, but Glenda wants to stay here. She works part-time at—at the Zippy Mart out from town, by the river.”

“Oh, yeah. I saw her there recently. And she's going with old Dink Odom now, isn't she? Both the Rountree girls landing them a man in one year!” I grinned. “Fascinating story, Ellis, but why would you want to talk to Aunt Della about it?”

Ellis had relaxed some, and she looked down at her hands. I noticed she was turning her big diamond wedding ring round and round on her finger.

“Well, I thought Miss Della might be interested in renting Glenda a room.”

I laughed in spite of myself. “Thanks for asking, Ellis, but it's just as well you didn't waste Aunt Della's time. She wouldn't want anyone else staying here. No offense to Glenda, of course. I know how Aunt Della is.”

“Well, Donnette is considering it, because they need the money. But I would prefer that Glenda be with a genteel lady—especially since she's family now.”

I studied Ellis a minute and then shook my head. “Ah. I see. Good try, Ellis. Had me going for a minute, there.”

She tried to look surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I know what you're up to. The bit about being family gave you away. You want to get your sister settled in this house, then when Aunt Della croaks, or y'all cart her off to a nursing home, you and Sonny can move right on in. Maybe you're planning on moving all the Rountrees in then—bring them out of the sticks into ‘genteel' society. Though that ought to be quite a feat.”

I could tell by her expression that I'd hit the nail on the head. Ellis stood up, mad again, clutching the hell out of that purse.

“Forget it! Forget I even mentioned it, Taylor! Obviously you still think you are too good for anybody in this town—you and your crazy old aunt, too. Well, I've changed my mind. I wouldn't have Glenda live here for nothing—she might have the misfortune of running into you!”

With that little speech, Ellis started down the steps haughtily. I couldn't resist one more dig before she disappeared down the sidewalk, and I tried to say it loud enough for the Baptists across the street to hear.

“I wouldn't call it a misfortune if Glenda came snooping around here one rainy summer morning and caught me naked and willing—she might like it as much as you did!”

It was a day not only for old ghosts and resurrecting old memories; it was also a day for visits. Since I had no way of knowing at the time what the consequences of Ellis's visit were going to be, I decided I was feeling up to continuing my therapy with Sarah. Naturally she'd been curious as hell about my reaction to Tim's appearance in the catfish restaurant, calling me as soon as Ellis left, checking on Aunt Della and getting the lowdown on my state of mind.

I'd just begun the last few days to talk with Sarah about Tim, and the accident, and my being off my rocker for two years. I never thought I could talk to anyone like I'd talked to Sarah, spilling my guts ad nauseam, going on and on like I'd never done with my shrink in New Orleans.

But Sarah was so different, so easy to talk to. The night before, when I stopped the car to let her out at her Aunt Maudie's house, she'd crawled out of the backseat behind me, then leaned back into the car and kissed my cheek. “Thanks for a great meal,” she whispered, her hand in my hair. “And we've got to talk about tonight—call me as soon as you feel up to it.”

Of course I'd sat there all moony-eyed watching her walk into the house, delighting in that perky little swing she has when she walks, sighing over the way her hair fell over her shoulders. I had finally found the most unbelievable woman I'd ever known, a woman who could be my salvation, and she was old enough to be my mother and treated me like the son she'd never had! My shrink would have a field day with that one.

Sarah came over and had lunch with me and Aunt Della, since she said she wanted to see for herself if Aunt Della's dizzy spell was anything to be concerned about, or just a passing thing. We pigged out on tomato sandwiches and leftover fish from the Catfish Cabin. After lunch, when Aunt Della lay down for her afternoon nap, Sarah and I sat on the swing and talked until dark. When it finally got too dark to see, Aunt Della came out and turned on the porch light, wanting to know if Sarah would stay for supper. But Sarah insisted she had to go, that she had work to do getting her Aunt Maudie's house ready. She said her good-byes to Aunt Della, then I walked her home. I didn't even go in—it was right outside her house that it happened.

“Taylor?” Sarah smiled at me, taking both my hands in hers as we stood on the sidewalk outside Miss Maudie's house. “I think Della's going to be all right—just watch her closely. It could have been a mild stroke or something she had last night. But probably not. Probably the night out was too much for her.”

I nodded. “I think so, too. And listen, thanks for hearing me out this afternoon, listening to all my crap. One for the casebooks, huh? Give you lots of material for your classes, at least.” Sarah taught psychology in medical school, and she was the only shrink I'd met who wasn't loonier than her patients.

She looked at me earnestly with those marvelous golden eyes. “I think I can help you, Taylor. We've both got some time left here. So let's continue to talk, okay?”

She couldn't have said anything I liked better than that. Any excuse to be with her. Funny thing was, though—she really was helping me. Mainly by urging me to spill my guts and get so much of that shit out. When I talked with her, I could feel the torment begin to ease up ever so slightly, like the way a tranquilizer dulls the searing pain of heartache.

Sarah held out her arms to me and I went into them gratefully. She had no idea how she tormented me, always hugging on me, kissing my cheek, tousling my hair like a pet puppy. If only she knew!

“Oh, honey—you're going to be all right. I promise you, things are going to work out for you. Trust me,” she whispered, patting my back.

Of course I couldn't help it—I had to screw everything up. Suddenly I could stand it no longer, the sweet sensual smell of her, the softness of her hair, her lean muscular body. Taking a deep gasping breath, I pulled her tightly to me, pressing her against me, her firm small breasts into my chest. Then I heard her cry out and push me away. At first I was startled, hurt, so I looked down at her. She was staring at the road, at the lights of a car which had slowed down and then sped off quickly.