Palmetto Moon (12 page)

I can’t tell much about her other than she is petite, with short dark hair, and she is wearing a white cotton shirt and a pair of very short shorts. The thought of Frank alone with the woman, opening the store for her on the spur of the moment, and on the Sabbath, is alarming. And it seems like they’ve been in there an awfully long time.

I walk to the front porch and plop down onto the glider, waiting for them to come out. Finally the woman appears with two grocery bags. She yells something at Frank over her shoulder that makes him smile, and then gets in her car and drives off. Who is she? Is she just a customer trying to catch him before he goes on vacation? And what did she say to make him smile like that? He climbs into his car, glances at me, and waves good-bye. I don’t wave back, but the bachelors do, in unison.

Of course, I will see him in three days. I know his leaving is just a ruse. I know Frank’s feelings for me remain deep and true. Still, my heart lurches as he pulls onto the highway that dissects Round O. If I stand here watching his car disappear down the long, straight road, I will cry, and I’m supposed to be playing the part of the girl who is giddy about going home for the holiday.

The children are a good distraction. They lie on their stomachs, playing under the shade of the mimosa tree, away from the bachelors and the cigarette and cigar butts. Claire picked through Miss Mamie’s trash last night until she found three jar lids. She washed them and gave them to the children this morning to play with. She pokes her head out the screen door to check on the boys.

“Hi, Vada. Was that Frank I saw leaving?”

“Yes, he’s going fishing for the week. Looks like the boys are having fun. What are the jar lids for?”

“Didn’t you ever have a roly-poly circus growing up?” I laugh at the very idea in my stuffy home. “Those little bugs will keep the boys entertained for hours, and Daniel is quite good when he does his ringmaster imitation.”

On cue, Daniel sprinkles a few of the hard-shelled little bugs into each of the three miniature circus rings. At first, they roll around like BBs before they open and start crawling around the shiny silver jar lids.

“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen,” Daniel huffs. “And see the greatest show on earth!” He puts a pine needle in his jar lid, and the little bugs crawl over it. “See nine lions leap across pine barrels.”

“Mine are beautiful brown horses. See them jump the obstacles?” Peter shouts.

“Mine are elephants,” Jonathan shouts. He gives the jar lid a little shake and squeals with delight as the bugs unfold and start crawling in all directions.

I pull Claire away, out of earshot of the children and the bachelors. “Please, Claire, tell me you’re not still considering marrying that horrible old man.”

The sadness returns. “I have to get the boys out of here, Vada. I just have to.”

Surely she can’t be serious about Mr. Stanley’s proposal.
“Tell me you don’t believe in jinxes.” Tell me you won’t marry him. “The job will come through, Claire, I know it will.” It has to.

One of the bugs crawls over the side of the lid, and Jonathan squeals and takes off while the boys pretend to chase him round and round the fat tree trunk. Daniel catches his baby brother and wraps his arms around him while Peter tickles the little boy’s fat white belly.

Claire hurries toward them, arms crossed, making sure she has their full attention. “Not so loud, boys.” She tries to look stern but can’t help but smile at their adoring faces.

I whisper a short prayer to God for a handsome young prince and beg Him to be quick about it. She hugs the boys and sends them back to their play. “Oh, Claire, you are so very lucky. They’re so precious.”

She smiles proudly and squeezes my hand. “Now tell me about last night.”

“We just walked down to the creek. Have you been there?” She nods her head and looks sad for a moment.

“Isn’t the water
cold?
I bet the boys love it,” I say. She shakes her head just enough to let me know that she’s been there with her husband and not the boys.

“Was it romantic?” Claire whispers with a shy smile. “Did you kiss?”

“Yes. It was wonderful.”

“What will you do with yourself?” She looks at me smiling, concerned. “Without Frank for a whole week?”

“He’s coming back the day after the Fourth; I should be back then, too. But I’m more interested in your surprise, Claire. I do hope it’s the new job.”

If taking Vada on this trip unchaperoned is a sin, four days of not touching her, not hearing her laugh, not seeing her eyes light up when she sees him has been enough punishment. All Frank has been able to think about is Vada, seeing her again, and going on this trip to Memphis because he’d go anywhere for her. Even hooking a huge bass before he quit fishing last night was nothing to him. The thing must have weighed close to twenty pounds, maybe more, and took a good fifteen minutes to land.

When he pulled her in, she was beautiful, heaving to breathe out of the water, her gills flapping, revealing her raspberry innards. She would have made a right good supper, but he was just fishing to pass the time until the girl he really wants arrives. Hell, he must be lovesick, because he unhooked that fish, ran his finger over her fat belly full of roe that would have fried up nice, and let her go. He ate cold pork and beans out of the can for supper. Attempted to sleep.

But that was different, too. Usually, he’s a log after his head hits the pillow. Last night, when he closed his eyes, he saw Vada, her hair, her beautiful face, those soft, full lips. Seems like he stays hard over the woman constantly, and, while he knows it’s natural, something about it almost makes him feel guilty, lecherous. He doesn’t want to mess this up. He wants to go about it the right way. He doesn’t want Vada to be the schoolteacher who got knocked up. He wants to court her, marry her, and spend the rest of his life making love to her.

That last thought gets him going again, so that he has to straighten up the place with a hard-on, which isn’t really comfortable. But there hasn’t been much to do since he stowed the tackle box and fishing gear in the car last night. He sees Tiny’s red Ford pickup coming down the long, straight drive and wills himself soft again, because he knows Tiny Medford would say something for sure. Vada has her elbow propped out the window, long fingers trailing in the wind as the truck makes its way to the cabin.

The truck barely stops and Vada is out, gliding toward him. He stands in the doorway of the cabin, gaping at her, unable to believe how lucky he is. She hurries the last few steps but doesn’t throw her arms around him, just rocks back and forth from the balls of her feet to her heels, like she’s anxiously waiting for something. Frank hopes this something is his arms around her.

“The place looks good, Frank,” Tiny says, lighting a cigarette. She blows the smoke heavenward, and then looks at him. He can read the lecture on her face.
Don’t screw this up. Don’t screw Vada up. Don’t screw period.
He wants to tell Tiny it’s not what she thinks, but she wouldn’t believe him.

She raises her eyebrows at the bulge in his dungarees. Shit. He’s grateful Vada’s looking at the lake and commenting on a family of Canadian geese that should have long since gone home to Canada to avoid the hot summer.

“I hear they mate for life,” Tiny says, looking at Frank. “The gander chooses up a gal, and then that’s it. Forever.”

While Vada goes on about how sweet and romantic that is, Tiny’s staring at him stone-faced. He shakes his head at her words of warning. He knows what he’s doing, and if he has anything to say about him and Vada, they will be for life. “It’s the way they’re made,” Frank says. “Couldn’t change it even if they wanted.”

Tiny shrugs, snubs out her half-smoked cigarette on the porch rail, and puts it back in the pack. “Y’all have a real good time.”

“Thanks again, Miss Medford, for the ride.” Vada hugs Tiny, and the surprise on her weathered old face is priceless. She pats Vada’s back awkwardly and looks glad when Vada turns her loose. “I’ll see you Friday.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” Tiny says, ruffled from Vada’s gratitude, “but maybe you ought to rethink this trip. Nothing about what you told me seems right.”

What is Tiny Medford doing? Was she trying to mess things up? But the fire she usually has in her eyes has been replaced with concern, like a mother’s. “We’ll be fine, Tiny. Don’t worry one bit. I’ll have her back in one piece in no time. Scouts honor.”

She throws her head back and laughs that deep, throaty laugh that comes from years of hard living. “That don’t mean nothing, shug. You ain’t never been a Boy Scout in your life.”

As soon as Tiny’s truck disappears down the road, Vada is in his arms. “I missed you,” she says in one long breath.

“I missed you, too.” He bends down to kiss her, but she pulls away. He feels her indecision and wants to put her at ease. “Sometimes I think I can read you, but I want to make damn sure I get this right. What do you want, Vada?”

She blushes hard. “I want to go to Memphis.”

The sign says they’re ten miles from Augusta and almost in Georgia, but, other than commenting on how pretty the Broad River is, Vada has hardly said two words. What’s she thinking? Is she worried about the Plymouth getting her where she wants to go on time? Has she realized how absurd her plan is to pay off this Wentworth woman? Is she worried about sleeping arrangements once they get there? And what are the sleeping arrangements? Because she hasn’t said.

“We’ll stop in Augusta and grab a bite to eat,” Frank says.

The car rolls down the main drag, called Broad Street, and Frank can see why. It’s three times as wide as Walterboro’s Washington Street and has shops and plenty of restaurants as far as he can see. He pulls in front of a place with a
JUST OPENED
banner out front, figuring they could use the business.

“Luigi’s,” Vada reads the sign and nods.

“You like Italian?”

“Oh, I
love
everything Italian,” she gushes.

Frank can’t help but laugh, because what else is there besides food?

The place looks nice; it’s a good-size building, about twice the size of the diner, and it smells great. Like their relationship, everything is shiny and new, and he feels pretty good about his choice. Frank orders spaghetti and meatballs because the waiter says it’s the best thing on the menu. He’s a short, round guy with slick black hair and a neck that disappears when he looks down to write on his order pad.

“
Bella Donna
?” he says, eyeing Frank’s girl, and she launches into a conversation he doesn’t understand, laughing and talking with this guy like they’re on a street corner in another country.

“Grazie tanto!”
he says and toddles off toward the kitchen. He shouts something to a man behind the lunch counter, who gives Vada a big smile, kisses the tips of his fingers, and tosses them Vada’s way.

“What was that all about?”

She blushes. “Oh, I took a little Italian in college.”

“Wow. You got all that out of one class? You sound like it’s your native language.”

She reaches for Frank’s hand. “Thank you for taking me on this trip, Frank. I know I haven’t said much, but I do appreciate it. I’m just worried I won’t get to see Darby. Ever.”

Maybe Vada is coming to her senses and has realized this Wentworth dame is a first-degree shyster. And who knows? People change. Maybe this Darby character is in on what Frank is sure is a scam.

“What did Darby do to get run out of town?” Franks asks.

“She fell in love.”

“Okay, now you’ve lost me.”

“I was away at college when it happened. Darby worked for a very wealthy man, a married man. She fell in love with him, and I believe he loved her, too. His wife found out about the affair and wanted to hurt Darby back. She demanded that Darby’s mother send her own daughter packing or she’d lose her seamstress business. Darby’s mother was shamed into running her own daughter off, forced to, really. So she left, and the woman ruined Darby’s mother’s business anyway.”

“And you think what happened to your friend is somehow your fault?”

“Darby wrote me and told me about the affair; I knew she was going to get hurt, but I didn’t know how to counsel her, so I asked my mother. She put two and two together and told the man’s wife, so, you see, it is my fault.” She looks at him with the saddest blue eyes and then pulls away.

“How is paying off this woman in Memphis going to change anything?”

“I can tell by your face you think my plan is stupid, don’t you? You think I’m stupid.”

“God, Vada, no. But you’re not responsible for your mother breaking your confidence, or for the choices your friend made. It just sounds like Darby’s taking care of herself. She got out of a bad relationship, landed in Memphis, and then had the good sense to get away from this Wentworth woman. What scares me is, you’re running right to her with open arms.”
And an open wallet.
“If this Wentworth woman can find Darby like she claims, if she has the power to put her in jail, why does she have to get the money from you?”

“Because Darby doesn’t have that kind of money.”

“And you do?” Her face blushes hard. She nods slowly and Frank tells his brain to shut the hell up, but it won’t. Fresh out of college, how the hell does Vada have that kind of money, and why is she so eager to give it away? He’s afraid if he obliges these questions, the road trip will end, and he’d like nothing better than to ride across the good old USA for the rest of his life with his arm draped over his girl.
Better let it lie, for now.
He’ll handle this Miss Wentworth when they get to Memphis, and she might be surprised to find that she’s the one rotting in jail.

“You’re sure about this, Vada? That’s two or three months’ pay.”

“Darby and I swore we’d always be there for each other forever.”

“When you were kids?” She nods and looks like she’s going to cry. Frank tries not to react, but two hundred and fifteen dollars is a lot of money, and children make grown-up promises they can’t possibly keep. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“I failed Darby, Frank. I won’t do that again.”

The hurt from Frank’s objections is evident. God, she’s so beautiful, so young and unacquainted with the ways of the world. He’ll go along, or at least let her think that, until they get to Memphis and he sizes this shyster up.

Their plates arrive, and every Italian man in the joint has stopped what he’s doing to see Vada’s face when she tries the food. A surge of jealousy pulses through Frank as she closes her eyes and lets out a deep, satisfied sigh. “
Delizioso! Eccellente!
” They all applaud and slap each other on the back like every single one of them has just proposed and she’s accepted.

Between bites, Vada gushes about this Darby character. Frank looks at the three huge meatballs staring at him and affirms his decision to keep his trap shut. From the look on her face, Frank couldn’t stop Vada even if he tried. And if trying meant he’d lose her, he sure as hell doesn’t want that.

He forks a meatball and takes a bite of it. He doesn’t know Italian, but it must sound enough like English that delicious and excellent sound the same. Vada’s right about the food; it really is good. Maybe she’s right about this plan and maybe she isn’t, but Frank is going to do his damnedest to keep his reservations to himself as long as she wants him along for the ride.