On the Loose (13 page)

I chance a smile. “Invisible killer bees?”

So how do
you cover up these psycho moments in life we all have?

Easy. You get someone else to do it.

I send one final text, mostly satisfied with the results. I simply asked Charlie to take care of the matter. After all, he’s close friends with Nash. And if I’m going to suffer through being Chelsea’s new BFF at church, then her boyfriend can start helping.

“Should I wear the pink stilettos or the black ones?”

Maxine preens and primps in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom.
Our
bedroom.

I assess the outfit she’s modeling. “This is a simple family dinner at home. Not
Sex in the City
. What’s wrong with the jeans and flip-flops you had on earlier?”

It’s reckoning time at the Scott house. James and Millie are cooking dinner for Maxine and Sam Dayberry. It should be interesting. Because I don’t think Sam’s been asked over so my foster parents can praise his bird calling abilities.

And my roommate is nervous. Like throw yourself in the station wagon floorboard nervous.

Maxine grabs a bottle of perfume and sprays it until I start choking.

“What is that stuff?
Ick.
Haven’t you ever heard less is more?”

“Sweets, when you’re my age all you’ve got is more. Now . . .” Maxine applies a tart red lipstick. “Do we need to go over hand signals again?”

I turn the next page in my algebra book. “No. For the last time, I’ve got it.”

She turns her attention on me. “When I pick my teeth?”

“I’m to change the subject.”

“And if I run a hand through my hair?”

“I’m to provide a distraction.”

“Put the book down and focus. There are more important things in life than homework.”

Normally I would agree.

“Final challenge, so pay attention. If I wiggle in my seat and raise my eyebrows it means . . .?”

“You ate too many beans at dinner?”

“No! It means that—”

“It means I’m supposed to ask God for a holy miracle, such as stopping time or a call for Armageddon so you will not have to endure another moment of your daughter’s disrespectful . . .” I search my memory for the rest of Maxine’s command.

“My daughter’s disrespectful inquisition into her mother’s personal affairs.” Maxine nods in satisfaction. She does a full turn in front of the mirror, and her short, black skirt swings around her. “How do I look?”

“Like you belong on
America’s Next Top Model
.”

Maxine holds my chin and smiles into my face. “Good answer. I think I’ll keep you.”

“Keep
me
? Um, need I remind you that you are currently residing in
my
room?”

The doorbell announces Sam’s arrival, and Maxine gives herself one final look-over. “If I do say so myself, I’ve still got it.”

“Brain rot?”

“Good looks. Now be a dear and go downstairs with me.” The beauty queen makes a grab for my hand and hoists me off my bed. “Now, you go first, and when you get down there, I want you to call me down to dinner.”

I look at my foster grandmother like she’s crazy. It’s a facial expression I’ve come to call “The Maxine.”

She grits her teeth and pushes me towards the stairs. “Just do it.”

When my feet hit the last step, I make sure everyone, including Sam, is in the kitchen.

My eyes nearly roll back into my head. “Hey, Maxine,” I droll.

From the top of the stairs comes a loud throat clearing.

“Oh, Maxine, if you would be so kind as to grace us with your stunningly beautiful presence, I do believe it’s time for dinner.” I smile at James, but he only shakes his head.

With all the expertise of a practiced Vegas showgirl, Maxine floats down the stairs, her pink spike heels leading the way. “Oh, did you call? I was just upstairs doing a little light reading.” Her eyes meet Sam’s. “I just finished reading
The Iliad
and
The Odyssey
. I so enjoy a good book when I have a free moment.”

James puts a hand on my shoulder and murmurs near my ear. “Maybe she could shovel out some of the manure in here—when she’s done reading her classics.”

“Maxine, you look lovely,” Sam says in reverent awe. “And that dress . . . It makes you look like Penelope.”

Maxine scowls. “Who in the world is Penelope?”

“It’s Odysseus’s wife.” Millie says tightly.

With a shrug, Maxine enters the kitchen. “I must’ve skipped that page.”

There is a moment of awkward silence in which no one knows what to do. Since they’re outed, can Sam hug his girlfriend? Does Millie use this time to tell Sam how disappointed she is in her theater caretaker? Should James ask Sam what his intentions are?

“Frances asked a boy out today.”

I’m sorry. The tension was getting to me.

I explain the story in detail as we move to the dining room, a room that is rarely used around here.

The table is set with brown tapestry placemats and fine china. The Scotts didn’t break out the china when I came to live with them. In fact, I think they hid it.

“If everyone will take their seats, I’ll serve dinner.” Millie wipes her hands on a towel. “Katie, could you help me in the kitchen?”

Maxine pulls on her ear. What does that mean? She didn’t go over that one.

“Um, sure, Millie. I’ll be right there.”

Sam pulls out a chair for Maxine, seating her to my left.

“What’s the ear tug?” I whisper.

She takes a gulp of water, leans over and crunches ice near my cheek. “It means if you leave me alone for too long you will wake up tomorrow with all your bras in the freezer.”

I think about this for a moment. “I’ll be quick.”

Following Millie into the kitchen, I grab dishes like I’m a server at Applebee’s. In my right arm I balance a basket of bread, a giant salad bowl, and two bottles of salad dressing. My left arm cradles a bowl of steaming hot French green beans and an overly full serving dish of corn. I want to ask Millie the hundreds of questions I have for her, but I don’t.

“Katie, what are you doing? I didn’t mean for you to bring in everything.” Millie’s voice is all concerned, but her face says
Girl, if you drop my dinner, you will be eating off-brand cereal for the next month
.

Channeling my inner Cirque du Soleil acrobat, I manage to race back to the dining room without losing a single bean. Behind me Millie carries a platter of roast beef.

I still marvel at the food in this house. Growing up with my mom, a gourmet dinner consisted of one of those discount frozen dinners. You know, one of those entrees that was covered in gravy, consisted of four thousand calories, and tasted like Alpo.

But Millie cooks like Martha Stewart. When she’s not helping out at the church or the Valiant Theater (or dodging my questions), Millie watches the Food Channel in her spare time. I personally find watching cooking shows about as interesting as watching C-SPAN, but James and I both reap the benefits of Millie’s odd viewing habits.

“Let’s pray.” James clears his throat and opens his mouth to begin grace.

“I’ll do it.” All eyes shift to Millie. “I’ll pray tonight.”

No one dares to argue. Maxine elbows me beneath the table.

“Our gracious, Heavenly Father. Lord, thank you for this meal. Thank you for this time together. We are grateful for safety, food, and . . . the opportunity to live an honest life in this great country. Lord, we ask that you forgive our sins. Every single one of them. We pray your Holy Spirit would burden our hearts with the need for honesty, and that we would always come to this table and to you with clean hearts. Dear God, we ask you convict us of—”

“Dear Lord, this is Maxine talking.” My head snaps up as my tablemate interrupts. “Father, you and I go way back. Let’s face it. I’ve known you longer than . . . others here. God, I pray you would remind us of your command to honor our parents. Teach us to honor our elders with respect and all the reverence they are due. Lord, I have been maligned lately and—”

Millie butts in, her voice strong and loud. “God, I pray you would give us discernment. Because Lord we all know we are to honor Biblical truths and not
parental
truths. Now Jesus, you understand hurt. And you tell us you hurt when we hurt, so Lord, I know you carry a daughter’s burden. You know how a child of God would feel if her mother was answering clandestine birdcalls in the woods. Hidden by the shrubs and—”

“Enough!” James waits until he has every eye on him. “You two should be ashamed of yourselves. This is a time of prayer. This is not how we talk to God and ask him to bless our food. Is this the godly example you want Katie to witness?”

The ladies drop their heads, leaving James, Sam, and I to stare at one another. We all share an eye roll and then James continues.

“I will now say grace. And then we will discuss this issue like adults. Godly adults.”

James prays over our food, and we hesitantly begin dinner. Almost wordlessly dishes are passed and food is served.

“I would like to say something.” Sam’s deep voice is like a bullhorn amidst the near silence.

Millie opens her mouth, but James rests his hand on hers, halting any interruption.

“Millie, I know you’ve been avoiding the theater lately, so I think it’s time you heard my heart. And then you can decide if you want me to remain as caretaker of the Valiant or not.” Sam tips back his water glass like he’s trying to sip out courage. “I have loved your mother for quite some time now. Even before she knew I existed. She is a woman full of life, faith, and integrity.”

Millie crosses her arms and snorts.

“When your mother finally decided to honor me with her company, she thought it would be upsetting to you.”

“Why? Why would I care if my mother was dating someone?”

Sam shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, I asked Maxine that many times myself. I, uh, believe she felt like she was protecting you. She’s never dated anyone since your father died.”

“That was fifteen years ago.” Millie says.

Sam tugs at his shirt collar. “Yes. Well, you don’t have to tell me that. Maxine, would you like to shed some light on this?”

Maxine helps herself to her third serving of roast beef. “Nah. You’re doing good, sweetie. Keep going.” She smacks her red lips. “Katie, hand me the gravy bowl.”

Sam’s helpless looks are lost on Maxine. “So,
ahem
, as I was saying. Your mother felt it was in your best interests if we did not socialize in public and if we didn’t tell you of our, um, friendship.”

“Friendship?” Millie repeats.

“Fine.” My foster grandmother waves a hand. “Our smokin’ hot love connection.” Sam refills his water glass. Twice. “Millie, I want to make it very clear.” He sends Maxine a dagger-like glance. “That your mother and I have acted honorably and godly.”

“Yes, fine, so back to why you two couldn’t bother to tell anyone about your relationship?” Millie rubs her forehead like it hurts to sort it all out.

Don’t try to make sense of it, Millie
, I want to say. Maxine defies logic. She’s the cost of gasoline. There’s no explaining it. You just try and survive it.

Maxine runs a hand through her hair. Her elbow jabs my side. Again. I’m so enthralled in this mess, I completely ignore her. I had no idea normal families had crazy fights too. This is awesome. This argument sounds like it’s straight from my old trailer park.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Millie.” Maxine sticks her thumb in my direction. “You had a new child in your house. Then there was that fiasco with trying to track down Amy a few months ago. You should be thanking me instead of spitting in my mashed potatoes. I was only thinking of you. Trying to protect you.”

“Maybe we should just move on from here.” James uses his most preachery voice.

“Oh, eat your corn, James. Sam and my mother owe us an apology.”

I flinch as Maxine waves her hand in front of my face. “I’m picking my teeth,” she says slowly.

“Then get a toothpick.” I shoo her hand away.

“Maxine, your daughter is right. We owe this family an apology. We should have trusted them to want us to be happy. You and I should have been open and honest about all of this . . . Maxine?”

“Oh, all right! Fine. I’m sorry.” Maxine throws down her napkin. “I’m sorry, Millie, I am. I do worry about you, though. The last thing I want to do is stress you out even more. I know I can sometimes be a small source of concern anyway.”

James and I lock eyes and share a small grin. Maxine has been known to ride her bicycle into chicken trucks. People in town call her Mad Maxine. She is no
small
source of concern. She’s a natural disaster. She makes global warming look insignificant.

“Mom, I want you to be happy. What kind of daughter would I be if I didn’t want that for you? I feel like you don’t even know me if you think I couldn’t handle the idea of you and Sam together.”

Maxine stretches her arm across the table and interlocks her hand with Millie’s. “Aw, sweetie, I know this is going to come as a surprise, but sometimes . . . I don’t do the right thing.”

James’s body convulses in coughs. I look to the ceiling and wait for lightning to strike.

“I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. Sam and I are both sorry. But we would like to begin dating again with your blessing.”

Millie’s face softens. “Of course you have my blessing. I love you.”

Rising from her chair, Millie wraps her arms around her mom and kisses her on the cheek. I guess that’s the difference between this family and where I come from. In this instance we have a happy ending. In my family this evening probably would’ve ended in yelling, a few beer cans thrown, and my mom slamming the door on her way out for more cigs.

“Who’s ready for dessert? We have apple pie tonight—with your choice of whipped cream or ice cream.” Millie, now a paragon of peacefulness, backs her way toward the kitchen, taking everyone’s orders.

I push away from the table. “I’m stuffed. I think I’ll get dessert later.” Frankly, I need a break from these loons.

“I’m going to wait on pie too.” James stands next to his chair and points at me. “Why don’t you and I go outside for a bit?”