Miss Dreamsville and the Lost Heiress of Collier County (29 page)

“Why do you think I joined the book club?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“I joined the book club because Dora was in it. I wanted to get to know her better. I knew who she was, but we weren't in school at the same time, so that was my chance.”

She felt like she had a crawfish stuck in her throat. “But how did you
know
?” she asked.

“Mom, you forget, you talk in your sleep,” he said bluntly, almost impatiently, adding, “Especially when you've been drinking.”

“Well, did you ever say anything to her about it?”

“No, of course not. That's your story to tell, Mom. Not mine.”

“Since when do you call me Mom?”

“Well, I can't call you Dolores anymore. You're not Dolores. And, frankly, I don't want to call you Bunny. All my life I've wanted to call you Mom. I never liked the way you made me call you by your first name.”

“Well, I didn't feel worthy of being a mom, that's why,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Aw, now, you mustn't think like that,” Robbie-Lee said, adding lightly, “I turned out pretty good, didn't I?”

“Don't tease, this is a
terrible
situation. I can't tell Dora. You have to do it. I just can't.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can't. Maybe if I was, you know, purty and . . . normal. Someone she could be proud of. That's why it would be better coming from you. You could tell her you are her brother. She'll like that. That will be good news, because she likes you as a friend. It might even be a happy surprise, for all I know.”

Robbie-Lee sighed. “This is an awful thing to ask someone to do for you.”

“Well, what if she upchucked when I told her?” she asked. “What if she laughed at me? What if she said something so horrible to me that I won't want to go on living?”

“Oh, Mom, please,” Robbie-Lee said. But she could see that he finally agreed.

It all was happening so quickly. Not more than ten minutes later, Bunny stood at the upstairs window half-hidden by an old lace curtain, and watched her son tell her daughter that they were kin.

They sat opposite each other on wrought-iron furniture that must have been as old as Mrs. Bailey White. Someone had been making an effort to trim the grass and plants in what must have been a lovely flower garden at one time.

She wished she'd thought to open the window. It was too late now. They'd hear her open it for sure. But at least she could see their lips moving. And she could see their faces.

He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and Bunny thought,
Oh, doesn't he look like a grown man, so serious and strong
. He said something that must have been meant to prepare Dora for important news because she reacted by folding her arms across her chest, crossing her legs at the ankle, and tilting her
head. Then he said something that might have been the word “sister.” Dora pulled back, surprised. Then her shoulders sagged, and she covered her face with her hands.

Just as Bunny had feared.

Dora stood up and walked a few feet away from Robbie-Lee. He said a few words, and she responded without turning around. He said a few more words, and she finally faced him again. She was crying.

Robbie-Lee went to her and hugged her for a long time. Then he took her face into his hands. He smiled.

And she smiled back. She might have said, “Brother.”

Then Dora sat back down hard, like she was a sack of flour.

Suddenly it occurred to Bunny that they might come looking for her as soon as Dora caught her breath. Mercy, what an awful thought. She hurried down the stairs and out the front door. The river—her river—was calling her home.

T
his is what he said to me: “I have good news and bad news, Dora.”

I sat down on Mrs. Bailey White's wrought-iron furniture. Moments before I had been thinking what a lovely garden this must have once been. Someone had been working on it—Plain Jane, maybe.

“What?” I said. “Just say it. What is it?”

“What do you want first?” Robbie-Lee asked. “The good news or the bad?”

“I don't care! Just say it!”

He cleared his throat and looked me straight in the eye. “My mother is the woman who gave you up for adoption,” he said. He waited for it to sink in.

“What are you talking about?” I shrieked. My voice came out so shrill that I would never have guessed it came from me. “Robbie-Lee, that
can't
be right! How do you . . . What makes you think . . . That's just not possible!”

But, truth be told, anything was possible.

I felt like my skin had been bitten by a thousand fire ants, and I very nearly upchucked. I stood and turned my back on Robbie-Lee, just in case. I never, ever thought I would find out who my mother was.

Once I collected myself I turned around, tears flooding my eyes. “Was this the bad news?” I asked, confused.

Robbie-Lee chuckled. “Well, a lot of people would think so. You know she's not exactly Betty Crocker. I doubt very much that she's the type of mother you would have hoped for.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, honestly? No.”

“Okay, now I'm going to tell you the good news. Do you know what that is? This means that you're my sister!”

Despite everything else that was happening, I had to smile. This
was
good news. I'd always wanted a sibling. And Robbie-Lee would be the best. He was smart, funny, and an all-around great guy. We were friends. And now we were siblings, too.

“I have a brother,” I said slowly, trying it out to see how it sounded. A wondrous thing, having a brother. My friends growing up complained bitterly about their brothers; Jackie's twin daughters seemed to dislike Judd heartily. But I always wanted to tell them,
You are luckier than you know.

Suddenly I felt a little strange, like I couldn't breathe. I sat down again, trying to calm myself enough to find the right words. “Robbie-Lee, I thank you,” I said finally. “I mean, thank you for telling me.”

Robbie-Lee smiled a little sadly. “Well, I knew you had to know. I mean, she finally confirmed it. And you're an heir now. You and me both.”

“Why didn't
she
tell me?” I asked.

“Because she was scared,” he said simply. “I was scared, too, but not as much as her.”

“How long have you known?”

“Oh, I've had some suspicions for a long time,” he said. “Something she said once or twice when she was drunk.”

I waited a moment, then, “Do you think we have the same father?”

Robbie-Lee surprised me by laughing out loud. “Not a chance,” he said, adding quickly, “Does it really matter? I'm not sure we want to know any more secrets from the past, even if we could find out. I think we have enough to contend with.”

“You've never known who your father is, right?” I asked. “I've been walking around for years thinking that Montgomery Witherspoon, wherever he is, is mine. So it's something else I have to accept.”

“I'm so sorry, Dora,” Robbie-Lee said softly.

I shrugged in response.

“Dora, I know this must come as a shock to you,” he continued. “I know she's not a, um,
conventional
mother but she's a great person, she really is. She's a little rough around the edges, but if you give her a chance . . .” He hesitated. “I surely do hope that you give her a chance. Maybe not right away—that would be understandable—but maybe once you get, well, used to the idea.”

What could I say? That my newly found mother scared me to death? That I was repulsed at the idea that my mother had been a dancer in a nightclub? That I was embarrassed by her? And that I wondered what this meant about me? I had thought I was a higher-class person than that. Mama and I were poor, I knew that, but Mama had been a nurse and I had two years of college.

“Want to hear something funny?” I said finally. “After I learned I was adopted I started dreaming that maybe I was Eudora Welty's secret love child. I was aiming high, wasn't I?”

“Well, now, that would have been something!” he said. “But that's the problem with real life, isn't it? Life can't live up to your dreams. I'm not saying dreams can never come true; sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. But one thing's for sure, once you start trying to make a dream come true you'd better be prepared that anything could happen. You find out you're adopted. You dream that your mother is a brilliant writer but she turns out to be, well, a stripper—or fan dancer, or whatever—turned alligator hunter. Good grief, Dora, I can see why you feel let down.”

“I wouldn't say I feel let down,” I said quickly. “That sounds too mean, and I'm not a mean person. I just need time.”

Robbie-Lee nodded. “Let's go inside and get something to drink,” he said, standing up. He took my arm and gently led me back indoors.

•  •  •

“ARE Y'ALL GOING TO TELL
us what's happening?” Mrs. Bailey White demanded. I realized, once we were in the pantry, with Robbie-Lee chopping some ice for our drinks, that even a short person like her could get a peek at the garden as long as she stood on her tippy-toes.

“Mrs. Bailey White, were you spying?” I said with fake outrage, yet she reacted with guilty shame.

“Well, we all were,” she said. “Jackie and Plain Jane, too. Only they ran off to the living room to pretend they weren't in here watching you from this here window.”

Robbie-Lee and I looked at each other and grinned. After fixing lemonade for all of us, we commenced to finding the others, with Mrs. Bailey White trailing behind. Jackie and Plain Jane were in the parlor pretending to play cards.

“What have you two been up to?” Jackie asked.

“Dora and I have an announcement to make,” Robbie-Lee said. “I have just informed her that we are brother and sister.”

Jackie had been reaching for her lemonade and nearly knocked it over. Plain Jane let out a little gasp, and Mrs. Bailey White said, “Did I hear that right?”

“Yes, you did, Mrs. Bailey White,” I said, following Robbie-Lee's courageous lead. “We have the same mother.”

Jackie gulped. “
Dora, your mother is . . .
 ?”

“Yes,” I said, realizing that my face was starting to flush.

“Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle,” said Mrs. Bailey White. “And here I thought he was proposing to you!”

“What? You know he's not the marrying kind!” Plain Jane said loudly.

“Well, just because he's not a man's man and not interested in women in the Biblical sense doesn't mean he might not get married,” Mrs. Bailey White said defensively. “I mean, it happens all the time, doesn't it?”

Robbie-Lee seemed a little amused. “All y'all are something else!” he said. “Now let's go see Mom. She's upstairs resting.”

But all we found was an empty room.

R
obbie Lee, you're going to wear a path in Mrs. Bailey White's Oriental rug,” I said, watching him pace back and forth. We had to decide if we were going to go after her.

“I need to get back to New York,” he said, “but I'm not leaving until I see her. You know she's back at her place, probably talking to that bird and drinking up a storm. I'm worried.”

I had told Robbie-Lee about the night heron but he hadn't seemed surprised. He liked the fact that she had named the bird Peggy Sue because he used to sing that song and make her laugh.

“Well, you could go see her and then tomorrow you could catch the morning bus northbound,” I said. “I'm sure—”

“I have a better idea,” Robbie-Lee said, a little impatiently. “Let's you and me go see her together.”

“No,” I said firmly, “I'm not ready to see her.”

“Well, fine,” he said. “I'm going there now.”

Great
, I thought,
we're already quarreling like brother and sister.
The others wisely stayed out of it.

•  •  •

I SPENT THE AFTERNOON PLAYING
with Dream. Mrs. Bailey White was resting; Jackie went back to her house to be with her kids, and Plain Jane puttered around the garden. I was glad for a chance to be with Dream, who was beginning to warm up to me. She liked it when I played on the floor with her. I had not spent much time with an infant since my babysitting days in high school.

I got to thinking how strange it is to be alive in this world. It's not like anyone asks to be born; you just arrive whether you like it or not. You've got no say whatsoever in who your parents are. And yes, life is good and even wonderful. On good days you say to yourself, “My, it's good to be alive!” or “Ain't life grand?” or “Thank you, Jesus!” But other times, when things go badly, you say, “What the heck is this thing called life?” or “What exactly am I doing here?” Or even, “Lawd, what kind of trick you be playing on me?” Now the last is sacrilege, of course, but I bet there's not a human being alive who hasn't had moments of despair.

Of course, Dream was a long way from having thoughts like these, good or bad. She was still living in her own world, as yet unformed as an actual person, her future a question to be answered in time. What questions, I wondered, would Dream ask her mother one day? Would she be angry at Priscilla for going away to college and leaving her behind? Would she demand answers about who her father was?

By the time Robbie-Lee returned from his hike to the fishing shack, Dream was fed and asleep. I was waiting for a chance to talk to Robbie-Lee, but I must have dozed off, too, because when I awoke in Dream's room it was dark and I heard the sound of his voice coming from the kitchen.

As I came quietly down the stairs, I said a little prayer. I wanted to clear the air with him before he went back to New York.