The Widows of Eden (19 page)

Hail Mary bypassed the usual niceties, as usual. “Where have you been, girl? This is the third time I've called.”

I couldn't admit that my head was stuck in the refrigerator again, so I fibbed. “I was with my fiancé.”

“Were you? How is the evil Lord Clem doing today?”

“He has a deadly case of cancer, thank you very much, but he seems to be doing better.”

“He's better? You don't suppose Vernon …”

“I have no idea. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I've got big news, Wilma. The weather forecast has been revised. Can you believe it? Rain is predicted for the weekend!”

“How did you hear about it?” I asked, keeping my suspicions in check.

“Lily called Dottie; she called me.”

“Did Lily get the information from Marie Delacroix?”

“Yeah.” After another second, Mary added, “Oops!”

“I'm in the kitchen at the River House as we speak, trying to fix myself a cheese sandwich. Marie is on the house phone not six feet away. We watched the weather together.”

“Well, I'll be damned! The system works!”

“Before we pull a muscle patting ourselves on the back, let's make sure that nothing was lost in transmission. Did Lily mention the odds of rain?”

“Twenty-five percent, and it doesn't arrive till Saturday. My AA marched into my office not one minute ago to inform me that Pastor Hooper has scheduled a sunrise service tomorrow morning. He must want God to up the odds.”

“It sounds to me like he wants to get his two cents in before the downpour, but why the heck does it always have to be the crack of dawn? Lulu Tiller used to schedule sunrise meetings at the Abattoir all the time. She was as chirpy as a bird, but everybody else was crankier than an overdue mother with a water retention problem.” In retrospect, I probably picked a poor metaphor because Hail Mary had never experienced the joy of childbirth. For all you wild-eyed fathers- and mothers-to-be out there, there is nothing quite like impending motherhood, especially when you are fifty pounds overweight, your lower back is killing you, and you are carrying so much excess water that you slosh when you walk.

“The time is inconvenient, Wilma, but the cause is worthy. I'd like everyone to show the flag, or the red umbrella as the case may be. Can you bring Vernon and the widows along?”

“I can ask, but why?”

“They need to see how desperate we are for rain. That reminds me: have you heard from Clara yet?”

“It's not like she could call, Mary, and I can't check my e-mail till I get home.”

“Ask in person if necessary. We need to meet with her before the next board meeting.”

“But the forecast has changed for the better. Do we still have to go?”

“The odds are only one in four, Wilma. Until the rivers and streams of Hayes County are overflowing with rainwater, we need to think like Pastor Hooper; we need to pursue every possible angle. Call me when you hear from Clara.”

She just had to bring up water again, didn't she?

I
F
H
AIL
M
ARY
had peered out her office window while we were yammering on the phone, she would have spied two extremely large motor homes pulling up in front of the Angles House. Laverne was nowhere to be found when Marion and Bertha rang the doorbell, so Loretta led them to the library and then excused herself so she could conduct a room-to-room search. Eventually, she found my cute little goddaughter underneath her Peter Pan bed, behind a hastily constructed wall of pillows and stuffed animals.

Lo kneeled down and peered into the dark recesses. To two little eyes, she said, “We have guests, Lovey.”

A tiny voice peeped back, “I don't wanna go.”

“Why not? They're Poppy's friends.”

“I don't care.”

“Come on, Lovey. Aren't Poppy's friends your friends?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“'Cuz they make Poppy go away.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“I just do.”

“It doesn't matter, Lovey. I promised Poppy that you would say hello. You have to come downstairs.”

“No, I don't. You go.”

Loretta was a devotee of the escalation school of parenthood. “One,” she said sternly. There was no discernible movement behind the wall, so Lo raised her voice. “Two-o-o!”

Like most little girls and boys, Laverne had no desire to find out what was on the other side of three. When mother and daughter appeared in the library, the Widow Fabian stood up and remarked, “My oh my! What a beautiful child you are!”

The beautiful child took cover behind her mother's leg.

The eldest widow put her hands on her hips in mock disappointment. “I heard from your other daddy that you're a very, very special little girl. Is that true?”

Laverne peeked out from behind her mother and replied, “He's not my other daddy anymore. He's my Poppy! He bought me ice cream.”

“Really? What kind?”

“Pink.”

“I like pink ice cream, too. Did he take you for a ride in his new car?”

“Uh huh.”

“What fun! Where did you go?”

“To the ice cream store.”

Don't you just love little children?

Everyone took a seat — Laverne in her mother's lap — then Birdie said, “Have you heard the latest weather forecast? My driver just picked it up on the radio.”

“I got the call a few minutes ago,” Lo answered. “I was expecting it, of course.”

“Expecting it?”

“Sure, just as soon as Vern arrived.”

Marion smiled and asked, “How about you, Laverne? Do you expect rain?”

“Uh uh. I like the sun.”

“I like the sun as well, but in moderation. Are you in school now, dear?”

“Preschool.”

“Is it fun? Do you enjoy going to school?”

“It's just preschool!” Laverne repeated.

Loretta chided her. “Marion and Birdie are Poppy's friends, Lovey. Be nice.”

“We've been your Poppy's friends for a long, long time,” Marion said. “Could you tell that we were coming to visit?”

Laverne glowered at the widows. “Poppy's leaving again. How come?”

Birdie and Marion made eye contact with each other, then Marion replied, “Because he has people to help, dear. Your Poppy is an extraordinary man, you know. There are others like him, but only very, very few.”

Loretta's chin dropped to the floor. “There are others?”

“Oh yes, but the numbers are so small that a person could live a lifetime and never meet another like him. Even then, he wouldn't be
the
Vernon Moore. Vernon is exceptional, even amongst the extraordinary.”

“How? How is he so extraordinary?”

“Perhaps we're not speaking of the same Vernon Moore, dear. I thought he'd been to Ebb twice before.”

“Okay, point taken. Since Vern is so extraordinary, can I conclude that my daughter is half extraordinary?”

“Come, come,” Birdie said. “Don't you already know the answer to that question, too?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let's try a little demonstration. Laverne, do you know what h-o-r-s-e spells?”

“Uh uh. I don't have all my letters yet.”

“Then let me give you a clue. H-o-r-s-e spells an animal. I'm going to picture it in my mind. Tell me if you can see it.”

Laverne leaped to the floor. “Mommy, Mommy! It's a horse! I can see a horse!”

Loretta nearly swooned in her chair, but I have no idea why. It's not like we hadn't seen it coming. We just couldn't admit it to each other.

“That's exactly right,” Birdie affirmed. “Now, the horse I'm thinking of is b-r-o-w-n. Can you tell me what color it is?”

“It's pink! It's pink!”

Marion sat forward. “That was a good try, but you weren't quite right. Perhaps something else is on your mind. Is it your Poppy?”

Laverne began to jump up and down like she was on a trampoline. “He's coming! Poppy's coming, and he's going to buy me a cold drink!”

Loretta's hand came up to her mouth, then she regained enough of her composure to say, “What kind of cold drink, Lovey?”

“Pink, Mommy! It's gonna be pink!”

“Are you sure? Are you very sure?”

Laverne stopped jumping. After a pause, she replied modestly, “No.”

Marion said, “That's exactly the way it should be, dear. Do you know why?”

Laverne shook her head.

“Because you can sense what other people are thinking, but people don't always think clearly, do they? They change their
minds, they imagine, they make wishes or guess about the future; they even fool themselves. Do you understand?”

“Uh uh.”

“That's a sensible reply; good for you. No one blessed with a gift such as yours has ever truly understood it — or its consequences.”

“Its consequences?” Loretta gasped. “What consequences?”

“There are too many to list, but one is quite certain: you have a daughter who will sometimes see your thoughts.”

At that moment, my best friend left the State of Denial and moved to Bargaining. “Dear Lord in heaven; you're right. What can I do?”

“Not to worry, dear. There's a simple protocol …”

“A protocol? You've done this before?”

“On occasion. There are five important steps you must take.”

Loretta closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck. “Okay!” she replied. “I give! What am I supposed to do?”

“First, educate Laverne broadly: in history, science, languages, music.”

“Music?”

“Most definitely,” Birdie replied. “Have you considered lessons — the piano, for instance?”

“The piano? Look at her hands. They're tiny.”

Laverne hid her hands behind her back. Birdie said, “Professional teachers have keyboards made just for a little girl's hands these days. Do you know Jenny McCallum?”

“Of course. She's a member of the Circle.”

“I bet there's nothing she'd like better than to teach the piano to an extraordinary child. Would you like to play the piano, Laverne? Wouldn't it be fun?”

“No.”

Marion smiled and continued, “Second, she must be taught very early on to respect the privacy of others.”

“No shit, pardon my French. What else?”

“She must learn to choose her confidantes with care. It's best if she confides only in her parents and her godmother until she's much, much older.”

“Okay. That's not much of an intellectual leap either.”

“The fourth step is on you, dear. Until she gains a measure of maturity, Laverne will be unable to distinguish a memory from a daydream or an intention. In a moment of frustration, for instance, it won't be wise for you to visualize yourself planting a pick-axe in the back of your husband's head. It's not the sort of scene an innocent child should see.”

“She's not seeing it now?”

“She's distracted, but Birdie won't always be here to help you.”

Lo looked over at Birdie, who didn't appear to be distracting anybody. “I'm more of a scissors girl,” she said, “but I get the gist. I'll try to be careful.”

“Good. Finally, you must pay careful attention to whatever your daughter says. If she speaks of matters that ought to be far beyond her reach, you must call me without delay.” Marion pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to Loretta.

Loretta read it carefully, then said, “Could you give me an example, please?”

“Oh, it could be almost anything: astronomical phenomena, extreme geological or meteorological conditions, serious crimes, any phrase with the word ‘nuclear' in it.”

“Nuclear? Nuclear! Now you're scaring the shit out of me, Marion. You make my daughter sound like a canary in a uranium mine.”

“And so she is, in a distant, symbolic sort of way. But remember:
a child of her age has no ability to distinguish between fact, imagination, and intent. If you have any questions, any at all, pick up the phone and call me.”

“Here's a fact, Marion: you can imagine me picking up the phone right now because I have a question on intent. What if Lovey decides to be a coal miner instead of a canary?”

“Then we'll pray that she's a good one, and that she survives its hardships to old age.”

“So her future isn't preordained. She doesn't have a destiny.”

Birdie frowned. “Oh no, no, no. No! Destiny is a myth, but opportunity is another matter altogether. Doors may open for Laverne that open only for a handful of young people. Your job is to prepare her.”

“I can't quite put my finger on it, but I'm having trouble putting the word ‘opportunity' and the word ‘nuclear' in the same sentence. I wonder why that is.”

The door bell rang just then. “Shall I get it?” Marion offered. “It's for us.”

Loretta thought to herself, “Thank God.” But she smiled weakly and said, “Sit, please. I can use the time to myself.”

She found Road Rage Duke standing on the doorstep, bandana in hand. “Pardon me, ma'am. The Widow Meanwell asked me to knock at three thirty.”

“Would you care to step inside while I get her?”

“No thanks. I'll wait in the coach.”

Lo returned to the library to find the widows engaged in a hushed exchange with Laverne. “Your driver is here,” she announced with a little extra gusto.

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” Birdie declared, as if she was the White Rabbit in
Alice in Wonderland
. “We're overdue; we have to go. There are so many to see and time is so short.”

The widows stood to leave, then Marion touched Laverne's
cheek. “Will you remember what Auntie Marion said, dear? Do you promise?”

Loretta interrupted, “Why don't you watch some TV, Lovey? Mommy has to have a little talk with ‘Auntie' Marion outside.”