The Big Picture (38 page)

“Mrs. Simmons?” Officer Friendly cracks the gum between his teeth. “You can take a ride to your residence or you can take a ride downtown.”

“A ride home would be lovely. Thank you.”

I can’t even look at my foster parents when they open the front door.

“Hello, Officer Creech.”

“Pastor Scott — ” He pushes us into the porch light. “I believe these two belong to you.”

Chapter forty

IF YOU WANT TO SEE time stop, get grounded. I have spent the slowest week of my life without television, without my phone, without fun — all because of Maxine’s water tower acrobatic show.

“You can quit huffing and puffing over there. I know you’re still mad at me. And I know you’re sick of stuffing these Chihuahua piñatas.” We’ve been working all week on this Chihuahua Days stuff, and this morning I’m grateful that I’m officially ungrounded, and in eight hours the festivities will start and be that much closer to being over.

I glare at my foster grandmother, my hand stuck halfway up a Chihuahua’s — well, never mind. In a place totally inappropriate for candy, in my opinion. “Hand me some more gum.”

Maxine slides a bag across the Valiant stage, where we sit, surrounded by stupid dog decorations. I mean what kind of people celebrate a dog? Seriously, aren’t there better things to celebrate?

Sam walks down the aisle of the theatre, his hat low over his eyes. He stops in front of me, his back to Maxine. “Do you need anything else? I’m about to go into town and hang some of these from the light posts.”

“No, we don’t need anything,” Maxine answers, then shifts
awkwardly. “We don’t need anything from you at all.”

I bite my lip and stare straight up into the fly space.

“Well, I don’t believe I asked anyone but Katie if she needed anything.” Sam doesn’t take his eyes off me.

“Maybe Mabel Doolittle needs something.”

“Maybe she does.”

“Maybe she needs a big piñata stuck straight up her — ”

“Can it!” Sam makes a strangled sound and whirls on Maxine. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, Maxine Simmons.”

“I care about you, you old coot, though Lord only knows why.” She grimaces and curls her legs beneath her.

“Would you like to repeat that — maybe in a couplet or a sonnet?”

Maxine gasps, and her hands fly to her chest. “How dare you mock my . . . my art! My poetry! The words of my heart.”

“You think rhyming sweetie with neatie is
art
?”

Maxine jumps to her feet, her arms swinging. Then immediately moans and clutches herself in pain.

“Maxine!” Sam leaps onstage and rushes to her. “Maxine, what’s the matter? Are you hurt? Is it your heart?”

She lunges for her piñata and hurls it at him, yelping all the way. “Get away from me. There’s nothing wrong with my heart — especially now that I know for sure I no longer love you!”

“What is
wrong
with you?” Sam’s hands fly over Maxine, determined to get to the source of her angst. He looks to me for help, but I just shrug. I am so staying out of this.

“
You’re
what’s wrong with me. Now take your mitts off of me. Your handsiness may be acceptable to Mabel, but I am a woman of integrity — not some trollop!”

I turn my head in a desperate attempt not to giggle. But when I regain my composure, I see Maxine limping off the stage, her hands balled into fists.

Sam takes off his hat and wipes his forehead with a handkerchief.
“
What
was that about?”

Enough of these games. I thought that was what high schoolers did. “Her whole body is bruised.”

Sam’s expression grows fierce. “I will tear that mayor apart from limb to limb! I — ”

“No, Sam.” I walk toward him. “You had to have heard about Maxine hanging from the water tower last Sunday night. Everybody in town was talking about it.”

His eyes roll beneath bushy white brows. “Might’ve heard something about that. But people talk about Maxine all the time. I didn’t pay much attention.”

“She climbed up there to hang a banner — for you.”

“For me?” He considers this. “I thought it was just another stunt to get the attention of the firefighters. She does love a man in uniform.”

“Just one in particular.” I smile and dust some piñata confetti from Sam’s overalls. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life without her? There’s only one man she’d dive off a water tower for.” And I leave him standing beneath the stage lights, alone with his thoughts.

I CAN’T CONTAIN MY YAWN AS I place a marker on B12. I’ve never liked bingo. I never win, but I always sit by someone who does.

“Bingo!”

Nash and I swap a look. This is Frances’s sixth victory for the evening.

He shakes his shaggy head. “I give up.”

Frances claps her hands in glee and runs up to the front to pick her prize.

“Katie, are you okay? You seem a little down tonight.”

I clear my bingo card and answer Charlie. “No, I’m fine. Just tired from all the prep work this week, I guess. It may look easy to put on a celebration in honor of the mighty Chihuahua, but it is not.” And Tate didn’t show. I know he would’ve found a way to make bingo fun with all his crazy ideas. He made everything fun. Even spectator volleyball. I
miss him — his friendship that is.

I scan the room again. “Chelsea couldn’t make it tonight?”

“No, she had to babysit her sister.”

I look at Charlie’s totally cute face. Would I be willing to write stupid poetry for him? Would I brave bird poop and scale a water tower? We have been through a lot together.

I yawn again and feel my eyelids droop. We’ve played for hours. How much more torture can I take? I just don’t have the attention span for this game. It’s like I need two of me — one to listen and one to watch my card.

“Come on.” Charlie puts his hand on my back. “I’ll take you home. You’re about to face plant in your bingo chips.”

“But this could be my winning game.”

“I wouldn’t put money on it.”

“Fine.” I sigh and stand up. “Good night all. I will see you in the morning for the pancake breakfast in the fellowship hall.” Even the church has decided to donate the proceeds to the drive-in fund.

“Be there at six thirty!” Frances reminds me.

Those had better be some dang good pancakes.

I follow Charlie out of the Valiant into the parking lot. Even though it’s close to eleven, the town is all lit up and wide awake for the weekend celebration.

He opens my door, and I climb inside, content to melt into his seat and close my eyes for a second.

“You’ve really been working hard this week.” He starts his truck and a local radio station blasts a report of events in town.

“Yeah, well, you do the crime, you do the time.”

Charlie laughs. “Wish I had a picture of you two on the water tower.”

I chuckle. “It was crazy. Life with Maxine is never dull.”

“Any chance she and Sam will get back together?”

“I don’t know. They kept their distance tonight. And he still sat with that Doolittle woman.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to know what you want.”

I wave at some people walking home. “But sometimes what you want is just right there, you know? Like it was there and you didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

Charlie glances at me in the darkened truck. “I hope by the time we’re their age, we have this stuff all figured out.”

He pulls into my driveway and walks me to the door, his hand at my back.

I stop beneath the porch light, where it glows on me like I’m center stage. “Thanks for the ride.” I smile up at him, waiting to see what he does. What he says. We’re on the verge of a moment here, but . . . a moment of what?

Charlie exhales deeply, like there are thoughts trapped in his head. “Katie?”

“Yes?”

“Did anything happen between you and that Tate guy while you were in Middleton?”

My heart lurches in a painful beat. I think of that embarrassing night on the cliff top. “Um, no. Definitely not.” What had I been thinking then? I could’ve ruined that friendship. “Did anything happen between you and Chelsea while I was gone?”

His steady gaze meets mine. “No.”

Okay then. Not sure what this means except that neither one of us has seen any lip action.

Charlie inches closer. “Do we try to pick up where we left off?”

“I don’t know. That wasn’t exactly a good place.”

“I’m up for trying it again if you are.”

Is it me, or did he just say that in the same tone I would use when confronted with one of Millie’s carrot soufflés?

“Do you always get this romantic during Chihuahua Days?” I drawl.

He pulls me to him and locks me in a warm hug, his head resting on mine. “Must’ve been all those corn dogs I ate.”

“Might’ve been the puppy paw chicken nuggets.” I lean back in his embrace and look up. His face draws closer to mine. Closer. His lips part.

“Charlie — ”

“Yeah?”

I swallow. “I don’t think I’m there quite yet.”

He stops. Considers this. “You know what? I’m not either.”

With a quick hug good night, I head back into the house, not sure whether to feel rejected or comforted by the fact Charlie wants to take things extra slow. I mean, it’s one thing for me to say, “Let’s build this friendship back up.” But no matter how I feel, he should be thinking,
I cannot live another day without you!
Right?

I think I’ve seen too many Hilary Duff movies.

I call out for my family but get no reply. James was working a dunking booth and Millie had duty at the Valiant. I guess I beat them home. Rocky’s out in the backyard, and who knows where Maxine is. Hopefully not hanging off another In Between landmark.

On heavy legs, I carry myself up the steps and into my room. I head straight for the bathroom and wash my face.

With a toothbrush dangling from my mouth, I open the bathroom door and —

“Mom!” My toothbrush falls.

There on my bed sits Bobbie Ann Parker.

I take a step back.

Her bloodshot eyes follow me.

“Hello, daughter.”

“Wh-what are you doing?” She smiles, and I rub the chill bumps on my arms.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Mom . . .” My brain races for the right words. What
do
you say when your criminal mother sits right in front of you? “You can’t be here.”

“Why?” She stands up. She looks gaunt, thin. Like she’s lost ten
pounds since I saw her last. And she needed to lose weight about as much as Paris Hilton. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I’m definitely on alert now. The woman who left me alone for days without electricity and food would not come track me down in In Between to see if I was doing well. “I’m fine. The Scotts are taking good care of me.”

“Of course they are. I
knew
you’d come back here.”

“Did you expect me to stay in your trailer?”

“It was never good enough for you, was it?”

“Of course it was.” I shake my head in disbelief. “You left me. You took off with that guy and just left me. I had no food. No electricity.” My voice grows stronger. “Do you remember that?
Why wouldn’t
I come back to the Scotts?”

“How can you pick them over me?”

“You robbed a pharmacy!” I yell. “You made the choice for me!”

“I needed some medication!” she shrieks, stepping forward. “You don’t know what my life is like.”

“And you don’t know what mine is like. And why? Because you’re never around!” Fear is replaced by anger — burning, fiery anger. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me. And
want
to take care of me. You always made me feel like a mistake. Like I was just something in the way. You tended to those stray cats more than you did your own daughter.”

My head snaps back as she slaps my face. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that!”

I clutch my face and taste blood on my tongue. “You need to leave.” I will not cry. I will not show fear.
God, help me. Get her out of here.

“I’m not leaving until I get what I want.”

“Your car? The police will find you in a second in that thing.”

“I don’t need a car. I got my own ride.” Her glassy eyes dart around the room. “I need money. Cash. And you’re gonna get it for me.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“You’re lying!” I flinch at the force of her voice. “You’re lying, and I
know it. These people have money. If they don’t, then they have stuff I can sell to get money. Either way, you’re going to lead me to it.”

“Mom,” I whisper, my voice broken. “Just leave. Turn around and walk away. You’re only making things worse. I don’t want to call the police. Don’t make me be the one to turn you in.”
You’re killing me.

“You can’t call the police. I cut the phone line. And I still have your cell phone.” It doesn’t even occur to her that I could get a new one. “Besides, what kind of daughter would you be if you turned your own mother in? I would
never
forgive you for that.” She reaches out a spastic hand and pats my raw cheek. “You didn’t tell anyone when I called last week, did you?” She shakes her head and answers her own question. “And you ain’t gonna tell anyone about this visit.” Her fingers move to my hair and tighten. “Just tell me where some money is, and I’ll leave.”

I take a deep breath, my options scrambling through my head.

“Tell me!” She jerks my hair, and it’s everything I can do not to throw her into a choke hold like I learned in PE this year. But this is my mom. I . . . I just can’t. I have to get her out of here. And quickly.

“In . . . in the kitchen.”

Mom’s eyes narrow, and she struggles to focus.

“There’s a cabinet over the sink. Inside — there’s a sugar jar. If you open it, there’s cash. It’s where they keep their grocery money.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know. Two hundred maybe?”

Mom runs a bruised hand over her face then releases me with a shove. “I’ll be right back. If that money isn’t there — I’m coming back for you. And you
will
regret it.”

“It’s there. Just take it and leave. The Scotts are due back any minute. You have to get out of here.”