The House on Persimmon Road (28 page)

“I’m glad they like each other. Aren’t you?” She didn’t dare say another word. But she was thinking how it would make things easier all around in the event…that she and Tucker…

Justine sighed beneath her breath.

“I’d better go along home, too,” he said. “Big cooking day tomorrow, we’ll need an early start.”

She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. “Always the practical one, aren’t you?”

“I’m crazy about you, Justine, but it just isn’t my day. Can we call it a night?”

“Of course.” Her tone was stiff with disappointment.

This wasn’t the way Tucker had planned for evening to end. Served him right, he thought ruefully, for forgetting the rings on his dresser. His smile was crooked beneath his mustache. He wasn’t going to let the evening end this badly. “On the other hand,” he suggested softly, “We can try a little modest necking on the sofa.”

“Your behavior is strange tonight, you know. I can’t keep up.”

Tucker pulled her onto his lap and nuzzled her earlobe. “Just answer the question.”

A lovely shiver raced up her spine and she relaxed into his embrace. “A little modest necking? Why yes, I believe we could.”

“I really must talk to you, dear.”

“Taste this potato salad first, Mother.”

Pauline took a step back. “Am I being punished for something?”

“Don’t be that way. It has to be perfect. It’s my debut in front of Tucker’s friends.”

“All right. But only one teensy spoonful.” Pauline scooped up a minuscule portion. “It’s…better than last time. The potatoes are soft.”

“Too salty?”

“No. It needs a smidgen more,” Pauline said, standing at Justine’s elbow while the salt was added. “You know, dear, having Fourth of July with Tucker is so unexpected.”

Justine picked up on her mother’s clue. “Are you backing out? You can’t do that. He wants to introduce you to his friends. Anyway, I need your moral support.”

Pauline frowned. “It’s just that with Evelyn here… She’s a widow like me. Her only son lives in Atlanta—”

“Mother, she’ll be as welcome at Tucker’s as you are. I don’t see the problem. Look, I’m running a little behind, could you check on Judy Ann for me? And tell her to put on a pair of clean shorts.”

“But—” Pauline said despairingly.

Justine leaned over and kissed Pauline on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Mother, I’m sure Evelyn will have a wonderful time. Now, please. Be a dear and get Judy Ann ready. Agnes and Pip have gone ahead already, and I still have to do my hair.”

“It’s going to be a madhouse. All those people. The cars have already started arriving.”

“We’ll have fun.” Justine finished wrapping the salad bowl in plastic wrap.

Pip slammed into the kitchen. “Mom, Tucker says you better get down there, now!”

“I’m coming. Take this salad when you go back.” Pauline threw up her hands in surrender. “I’d better see to Judy Ann while Evelyn is dressing.”

Lottie was trying not to feed her hopes, but when the house finally emptied she took it as a good omen.

There was one problem she had not been able to solve entirely and that was her sense of Time. The framework of minutes and hours still defeated her. She had no idea how long it would take or how fast electricity flowed. Thinking back, it had seemed only an instant and a single jolt that had given her unextended self some substance. And at that, she considered, the jolt had been diluted, passing first as it had through Jim Kessler.

She had listened to Tucker explain electricity to Justine, but he spoke of it in numbers, one-ten and two-twenty. The dryer had electricity called two-twenty, which sounded more powerful to her, but she could hardly expect to extend herself in the open on the back porch.

She needed privacy without interruption. So she decided to use the bathroom, for it was the only room in the house with all the proper elements. It had curtains on all the windows, a door that locked, and the essential electrical outlet. But as she was coming out of the pantry carrying her clothes, she spied a young mother with a baby heading across the back porch toward the bathroom door. And soon after, there seemed to be a steady run on the facilities by the impatient crowd partying down at the barn.

Next Pip came racing back into the house to get his camera; Justine ducked in for a jar of mayonnaise; Judy Ann, with a new playmate in tow, came for her kitten.

The only room that seemed off limits to all for the day was Justine’s office. Those doors all stayed closed.

Heart palpitating and breathing as if she’d been running up a hill, Lottie moved first her clothes and, when the way was clear, her bones.

Footsteps on the side porch startled her.

She looked up to see a little boy with his nose pressed against a pane of the uncurtained French doors.

—  •  —

By four o’clock that afternoon Tucker’s yard overflowed with guests and good cheer. There were more than twenty-five children and about the same number of adults, as some had arrived with entire families in tow, from grandmothers to babies only months old. Justine was having a hard time keeping track of who belonged to whom and finally gave it up.

A good half dozen or so of the boys were Pip’s age, and he seemed to take delight in leading them into all kinds of mischief, from chasing chickens to climbing trees and skipping stones at the river. But it warmed her heart watching both her children enjoy the company of others their own age again. She made a mental note to get the names and phone numbers of the children’s parents from Tucker.

“Those hens are never going to lay another egg,” said the young woman who was helping Justine turn ground beef into hamburger patties at one of the makeshift tables.

Justine smiled. “Probably not. I’m sorry, but I’ve met so many people today I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Janie. That’s my husband up to bat now,” she added, pointing to the field where the men had a softball game going. Wheeler had mowed only the shape of the ball diamond. Center field and outfield were in knee-high in beggar tick weeds and purple-blooming maypops, but the players didn’t seem to mind.

Wheeler had been tagged as umpire and Agnes, who knew not the first thing about softball, was scorekeeper. It was making for a lot of noisy catcalling from the sidelines as she contradicted every one of Wheeler’s calls. Janie’s husband hit a pop fly. Tucker caught it in left field, which signaled the end of the inning, The teams broke ranks for refreshments.

“Mama!”

“And that’s our boy, Jimmie,” Janie said, as a six-year-old raced up to them.

“Mama!” he said, breathless. “I just seen a skel’ton.” Janie gave a small embarrassed laugh. “Jimmie’s long on right-brain hemisphere—he’s got an imagination that won’t quit.”

He tugged on her arm. “I’m not ’maging, Mama. It was moving and then it sat in a chair, and then it started dressing itself! I seen it!”

Janie laughed again and bent down to kiss the top of his sweaty head. “That’s a wonderful story. You can tell me the whole thing later.” To Justine, she said, “His teachers said for us to encourage him—that imagination helps in defining cognitive skills. I hope it’s so.”

Justine paused and looked toward her house. “Maybe he saw something he misinterpreted.”

Janie shook her head. “I don’t think so. This morning he had a long tale about a herd of dinosaurs wearing saddles. He stabled them in his room last night.”

Tucker came up on Justine from behind and put his arms around her. “You holding up okay?”

She felt his breath on her neck and sighed happily. “Everybody seems to know my name, but I can’t remember theirs. You should’ve warned me. We should’ve had name tags or something.”

“You’ll know all of us real good by Christmas,” Janie put in. “We get together on Labor Day too, and sometimes at Thanksgiving—”

“Here?” Justine said, shocked, thinking of all the preparations, the cleanup.

“Be quiet, Janie,” Tucker admonished. “You’re scaring the daylights out of my best girl.”

“One good turn deserves another,” Janie retorted easily. “Remember that the next time my darlin’ hits a fly ball and you think to put him out.”

“Mama!” cried Jimmie, pulling on her shirt.

“Hush. How many times have I told you, don’t interrupt when grown-ups are talking.” Janie wiped her hands on a wet cloth. “Y’all excuse me. I got to turn this kid loose on his father for a few minutes.”

Tucker tightened his arms about Justine. “That’s what I’d like to do with you,” he murmured. “Haul you off into the bushes somewhere…”

“Before or after we feed this horde?” she joked.

A very attractive, long-legged brunette, wearing a revealing knit shirt and very short shorts, touched Tucker on the arm. “Can I talk to you a minute?” She ignored Justine.

“Later, Christie. I’m busy.”

“When, later?”

Justine went on full alert. She tried to move out of Tucker’s embrace, but he locked his fingers over her abdomen and held her tight.

“Later,” he said. “As in tomorrow at work.” He stared the girl down until she flounced off, buttocks jouncing.

Justine turned, still within the circle of Tucker’s arms, and looked up at him. “Tomorrow? At work?”

“The telephone company doesn’t discriminate.”

“You mean that…that creature works for you?”

“You’re right on the money.”

Justine’s heart sank. “But, she’s gorgeous.”

“She keeps her warts covered up.”

“What about when you go out of town on jobs?”

“She still keeps them covered up. Say, are you jealous?”

“I’m green!”

“Christie’s not my type.”

“Has she ever been?”

“Nope.”

“Lucky for you,” she said with feeling.

“If all these people weren’t around I’d show you just how lucky I think I am.”

“Tucker, do you have to manhandle my daughter in public that way?”

“Actually, Pauline, I do. Can’t help myself.” He planted a quick kiss on Justine’s lips, grabbed a beer out of the cooler, but stayed within touching distance.

Evelyn hovered behind Pauline. Justine thought the woman was a plump, polyester version of Pauline. But Evelyn was pleasant enough, and she appeared thoroughly taken with Pauline and content in Pauline’s shadow. Both had done volunteer hostess duties, fetching and carrying, but after an hour or so they had moved a pair of chairs under a distant tree and kept to themselves.

Pauline rooted in the cooler for soft drinks. “You need to speak to Agnes. She’s making a spectacle of herself.”

“Oh, Mother, she’s just having a good time.”

“Good time, my foot. She’s inebriated.”

Justine had just the tiniest suspicion that her mother was trying to show off for Evelyn’s benefit.

“I’ll check on her,” she said.

“I thought I’d mention that Evelyn is staying the night with us again. It’s getting much too late for her to make the trip back into the city in holiday traffic.”

“She’s welcome, Mother, you know that.” Justine smiled at the woman over her mother’s shoulder.

“I’ll bunk in with you again, too,” Pauline said pointedly.

There was a slight moan from Tucker. “Two nights in a row?” he muttered into Justine’s ear.

“That’ll be fine,” Justine said.

“Won’t,” said Tucker.

“Sex maniac,” Pauline aimed at him in a disdainful whisper, before she and her new friend retreated to their chairs.

Tucker shook his head. “You get the feeling your mother was trying to pick a fight with me?”

“She was just putting on an act for her new acquaintance.”

In the next few minutes a horde of hungry youngsters descended upon the cooks. Mothers rushed over to lend Justine a hand dishing up burgers, hotdogs, beans, and opening sodas. Wheeler and Agnes anchored other picnic table with slabs of ribs, potato salad, baked beans, and towers of bread. Someone turned on a boom box perched on the hood of a pickup. Sousa marches joined the cacophony of children’s laughter, men talking loud over the music while wives and mothers fetched, wiped up spills, fed lap babies, and chatted among themselves.

—  •  —

Lottie was stupefied to see that scalawag’s face pressed against the window. She expected that within moments of his running away his parents or Justine would come rushing into the office and discover her bones. Yet no one had come. She reacted to that with utter disbelief.

Fearful her sense of Time was betraying her, she hid her bones inside the deep well beneath Justine’s desk and sat in the kitchen watching the minute hand move on the clock that was a part of the microwave oven.

Ten minutes marched by and seemed more of an eternity to Lottie than all the previous years she had spent in her condition.

There was a clamor on the back porch. She heard two women’s voices. She braced herself for discovery—an end to her dream, the single hope that had sustained her. One of the women stuck her head into the kitchen. Lottie froze.

“Christie, you’d better not snoop. Tucker will have your head on a platter if he catches you.”

“The men are using the bathroom at his place. Why would he come up here?”

Christie stepped into the kitchen. “Look at that table,” she said. “I bet it cost a fortune. Maybe he’s interested in her for her money.”

“Whatever the reason, it’s none of your business.” The other woman grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her outside. “Let’s go! I value my husband’s job even if you don’t value yours.”

The screen door slammed.

Lottie hurried back into Justine’s office. She checked the side porch. Empty.

She pulled her bones out from beneath the desk, checked the gray silk for wrinkles, smoothed out the pleats, and arranged all in the desk chair.

She sat down upon the silk-clad bones and uncoiled the ribbon of copper wire.

She debated praying, but pushed that notion aside. She was still betwixt and between. If He answered, no telling which side of the coin He’d come down on. Better to wait and offer up hosannas once the deed was accomplished.

Then she leaned forward and thrust the copper wire into the outlet above the desk.

Nothing happened.

She jiggled the wire.