Waiting for Sunrise (5 page)

Billy wondered what that meant. What was so bad about Daddy looking at Patsy? A man had to look, didn’t he, if he wanted to talk to someone?

The bad words started again. And then the hitting. Daddy hit to keep Mama in line. That’s what he told Billy and Harold one time when Harold had asked. Harold seemed okay with the answer. But Billy didn’t much care for it.

“Harold!”

This time Harold opened his eyes. “Daddy hitting on Mama again?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“She musta done something to deserve it, then.”

“Mama is good, Harold. She don’t do things bad.”

“Daddy says all the time he’s gotta keep her in line. So I know. Now go to sleep, Billy. You know what will happen if we get in the middle of it.”

Billy sure did. When Daddy had told him and Harold about keeping Mama in line, Billy had asked, “Do you spank her ’cause she’s done something bad? Like sometimes Patsy does and you have to whup her?”

“That’s right, boy.” Daddy reached down and ruffled Billy’s hair like he’d done something right. “And when I do, you best stay out of it or I’ll wear your rear end out too.”

Billy didn’t want that. No-siree-bob.

“Mama’s not fighting back,” he now whispered to Harold. “Not even crying this time.”

“Go back to sleep,” Harold said. He flipped onto his side opposite Billy and pulled the bedcovers over his head before slipping the pillow out from under his head and bringing it down over his ear.

“Maybe we should pray for Mama,” Billy suggested. But Harold was having none of his words.

Billy slipped back under the covers, mimicking his brother’s actions. “Dear Jesus,” he said, hoping it was loud enough for the good Lord to hear. “Please don’t let Daddy hurt Mama too bad tonight.” Curse words reached his ears again and he swallowed hard. “And be with Patsy . . . wherever she is.”

5

To be situated in such a small town, Trinity Methodist Church certainly was a grand structure. A total of twelve red brick steps led to the four-columned portico and double doorway. Inside the vestibule, a wide mahogany and marble table displayed a large gilded Bible under a massive framed copy of Sallman’s
The Head of Christ
. On both sides of the Bible were gold candlesticks holding thick, flickering candles and on both sides of the table were another set of double doors opening into the high-ceilinged sanctuary.

Patsy thought it the most beautiful display of Christianity she’d ever seen.

Immense stained-glass windows lined the sides of the room. At the front of the church, behind a three-sided pulpit, hung a cross so large, Patsy feared that should it fall, it would do considerable damage.

The long pews ran down the middle of the room with an aisle along both sides. Like the pulpit, they were made of mahogany. They sat hard, but it was a small price to pay, Patsy decided, after hearing the angelic voices of the choir and the inspiring message of the pastor, affectionately called Brother Michael.

“Fine service,” Papa remarked to Mam as they exited the family pew.

“What did you think, sweetheart?” Mam asked as Patsy stepped into the aisle.

Patsy looked around the crowded room of strangers. “I think it was marvelous. If I lived here, I can’t imagine ever wanting to attend another church.”

Lloyd was right behind her. “You
do
live here, remember?”

“Lloyd . . .” Mam’s voice held a hint of warning.

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.

“Now then,” Mam said, wrapping an arm around Patsy’s shoulder. “Let’s get you introduced to Brother Michael and to some of the girls your age. We skipped Sunday school this week—we wanted you to get your bearings—but next week you’ll go with them to your class.”

A hundred butterflies took flight in Patsy’s stomach. Meeting new friends right now . . . tomorrow a new school . . . next Sunday a new class. She swallowed, then nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

After being proudly introduced to Brother Michael as “Lloyd’s real sister who has come to live with us too,” Patsy was led over to two girls who appeared to be her age.

Mam took charge of the pleasantries. “Sandra Bedwell,” she said, pointing to a petite oval-faced brunette, “and Rayette Peachman.” Rayette was a tall, slender redhead who reminded Patsy of a young Lucille Ball. Then to the girls, Mam said, “This is our new daughter, Patsy Sweeny. Now I want you two to help Patsy find her way around for me.”

Both girls smiled, first at Mam and then at Patsy. “Yes, ma’am,” they said.

Mam promptly left them to get to know one another on their own.

Rayette took charge. “How in the world do you get to be a new daughter at . . . how old are you?”

“Thirteen. You?’

“Fourteen. But Sandra here is thirteen like you.”

“So, dish,” Sandra said. “Is this like
Anne of Green Gables
or . . . what?”

“Oh, I love that book,” Rayette said before Patsy had a chance to answer.

“Me too,” Patsy said, unsure as to what to tell and what to keep private. But the look on both girls’ faces told her they wouldn’t be easily put off. “It’s a long story.” She shrugged. “Do you both go to the same school?”

Rayette laughed. “Honey, everyone goes to the same school. First grade all the way up. But it’s not too bad. Hey, you should try out for our junior basketball team. You’d love it.”

“Are you on it?”

“I am, but not our Sandra here. Sandra is a majorette.” She winked. “Ra-ra-sis-boom-bah.”

Sandra gave her friend a look that read “I can speak for myself.” Instead she said, “There’s a lot more to being a majorette than just that, you know.”

“All right already,” Rayette joked with a wave of her hand. “I guess you’re coming to school tomorrow,” she said to Patsy.

Patsy nodded. “I guess so.” She attempted a smile, but she felt empty. Tomorrow her friends back in Georgia would go to school without her, she without them. And she couldn’t help but wonder what rumors would be spread before the day’s end.

“Hey, I know!” Sandra said, suddenly animated, making it easy for Patsy to see why she chose to be a majorette. She practically cheered, “Why don’t you come to Janice’s with us today?”

“Janice?”

“That’s a superb idea,” Rayette added. “Janice Milstrap. Her brother is home on leave from the Air Force and the family is throwing a barbecue for him and some of his friends. Naturally Janice got to invite a few of hers too. We’re going. Why don’t you come with us?”

Patsy looked over her shoulder, past the small clusters of people who gathered around, to where Mam was speaking hurriedly to a woman Patsy supposed to be one of her friends. “I’d have to ask Mam.”

“Oh, she’ll say yes,” Sandra said. “I’m just sure of it. Everyone loves a war hero.”

Patsy returned her attention to her new friends. “He’s a war hero?”

“Well, he was
in
the war,” Sandra said. “That’s hero enough for me.”

“Sandra is all goon-eyed over Gilbert Milstrap,” Rayette said.

Sandra looked heavenward. “He’s dreamy,” she said, her shoulders swaying.

Patsy smiled. “Isn’t he a little old for you?”

“Who cares?” she answered with a giggle, then sobered and looked Patsy directly in the eye. “Who said how old he is?”

“I’ve met him. We rode the bus into Trinity together the other night.” She wasn’t sure if she should admit they dined at the same table. The look on Sandra’s face told her she could get mauled.

“Oh, wow . . . I wish
I’d
ridden the bus with him.”

“I’m going to be positively ill,” Rayette declared. She looked at Patsy. “By the way, the service station you stepped off the bus at? That’s Gilbert’s daddy’s.”

“I sort of figured that out the other night,” Patsy said. Rayette and Sandra looked at her with furrowed brows. She added, “Gilbert’s name tag said Milstrap, and the name over the door of the service station was the same, so . . .” She shrugged before looking back at Mam, who was waving at her to come. “Anyway . . . I’ll ask Mam if I can go. Umm . . . how do I . . .”

“Get there?” Rayette asked. “My sister is old enough to drive. Warning, though; she’s ‘in love’ with Gilbert too.” She laughed at her own words, then sobered. “I’ll ask her to pick you up. But you’ll need to be ready by three.”

“Okay. I’ll ask Mam. If I can go, I’ll give you the nod.”

———

She was allowed to go, of course. Mam was thrilled and Papa not too far behind that she’d already made friends with two of the young girls of Trinity. Lloyd seemed a little saddened that his sister would not be spending another afternoon with him—they’d spent the previous day awkwardly beginning to learn about each other. But her brother quickly brightened when Papa said the three of them could go for a Sunday ride.

Patsy had no idea what that was, but it seemed to lighten Lloyd’s demeanor.

She had very few clothes to choose from. She hoped she looked all right in a simple flared skirt and white button-down blouse. She tied a little scarf around her neck and prayed she didn’t look silly.

During the ride to the barbecue, Rayette’s sister Paulette and Sandra talked nonstop about Gilbert Milstrap. So much so that by the time they arrived, Patsy felt she’d known him her whole life.

The Milstraps owned an out-of-the-way place on Fiddler’s Creek, a narrow body of clear water that danced over river rocks in the afternoon breeze and glistened in the sun. Cars filled the front lawn leading to the sprawling clapboard house. Within eyesight but beyond the house, young adults sat in outdoor chairs or stood in clusters. They chatted while sipping on iced tea from mason jars or taking swigs from soft drink bottles. A few stood along the creek bank; Patsy heard their laughter, even from just outside the car.

The yard was canopied with tall swaying pines; their needles rustled and shimmied in the wind. Patsy stared into them, watching the sunlight wink between their clusters as she waited for Rayette and Sandra to get out of the car, and for Sandra to give her reflection a once-over in the back passenger window.

“Get over yourself,” Rayette teased, and Patsy smiled. So far, making friends with Rayette and Sandra was happening naturally. They weren’t Mitzy and Jane, but they made her laugh. And, even if only for a moment, to forget.

“No one is making you wait for me,” Sandra said.

Patsy cleared her throat. “Um, Sandra . . . looks to me like your competition is already halfway to Gilbert by now.” She pointed toward where Paulette made a beeline for the guest of honor.

“And from the looks of things,” Rayette added, “Paulette isn’t the only one vying to get his attention this afternoon.”

Sandra threw her hands out; they fell along her sides. “Who am I kidding? I look like a kid next to these girls.”

Rayette leaned over and spoke from the side of her mouth. “That’s because you are a kid.”

Patsy gave Sandra’s arm a pat. “That’s okay, Sandra. Our turn at the Gilberts of the world will come soon enough.”

Rayette sighed. “Now you’re both making me sick.”

The girls started toward the festivities. Patsy inhaled the sweet scent of barbecue from an outdoor pit. “Smells heavenly,” she said in an attempt to calm her nerves.

Meeting new people had never been one of her strong suits.

However, there was one who was not so new. And he recognized her, even standing in Rayette’s shadow.

Gilbert Milstrap walked toward them, having dislodged himself from a small crowd of people—mostly female—whom Patsy assumed to be his friends. His head was cocked to one side. He wore a pair of what looked like comfortable baggy pants and a short-sleeved cotton shirt he’d rolled up around his biceps. “Little sister?”

Patsy had to admit she could see why so many of the girls were crazy about him. Even for an older boy, he was attractive in an offbeat kind of way.

“Yes, it’s me.” She put on her widest smile.

He grinned back. “Well, what do you know?” He turned to his friends. “Hey, everyone! Let me introduce you to a sweet young lady who had the misfortune to ride the bus home with me . . .”

And with those words, Patsy’s acceptance into the world of young Trinity began.

———

Before the day was over, she’d met several of the boys and girls she would attend school with the next day and a few of the town’s adults. The unasked questions—who was she and why was she coming to live with the Buchwalds—were written on all their faces. But no one outright asked, and Patsy didn’t volunteer the information.

The day was fun, all in all. She played badminton until she was breathless. Enjoyed kicking off her shoes and wading in the shallow part of the creek. Threw away all notions of ladylike eating and ate mounds of barbecue and nibbled away at corn on the cob until she thought her stomach could hold nothing else. But then the ice cream churns came out and she ended up delighting in a large bowl of homemade peach.

On the way home she laid her head back against the seat and stared out the window at the graying sky. For the most part, the stars were not yet visible, but a slice of the moon could already be clearly seen. Just below its bottom tip, a lone star winked. She wondered if, maybe, her mother was looking up at the same sky, seeing the same moon and star. And she thought of her brothers, who were bathed by now and getting ready for bed.

“Had fun?” Rayette asked, her body twisted to face the backseat.

Patsy nodded. “A lot of fun. Thank you for asking me.”

“One thing’s for sure,” Paulette added from behind the driver’s wheel. “No one is a stranger for long in Trinity.”

Patsy could see that. And she was pleased with it. Still, and in spite of having had such a good time, that night Patsy pressed her face into the sweet-smelling pillow of her new bed and cried inconsolably. The two nights before, when she hadn’t been too tired to think, she tried to tell herself she was just away from home for a little while. That she was visiting relatives. Or at summer camp. And that soon enough she’d return to her mother and little brothers.

But that day, the mixture of having had such fun with her new friends and the questionable looks of the adult townspeople affirmed the sick feeling inside Patsy. She was never going home again.

This
was home now, and this family—the Buchwalds—was her new family. And whatever it took to forget where and who she came from, she’d do it. Brick by brick, she’d build a new life for herself.

Here in Trinity, South Carolina.