Saving Cicadas Page 12

  Mrs. Kelsey Arielle melted and grinned. Rainey had that effect on people sometimes. If they chose to look at her and address her at all, they often swooned and carried on. It embarrassed me for her. “Oh, how lovely,” she said. “Of course you can read. And I adore the library. All those books!”

  I looked over at Poppy waiting across the street for us. He grinned at me, and it gave me the gumption to speak. “I’m Janie,” I said. “I’m eight and a half, almost nine. I can read too.”

  “So nice to meet yewww! And so nice to see you again, Priscilla. What a sweet family you have, and pretty as a picture. Listen, I know it’s last-minute and all, but I’m having a little Bobby Sue get-together next Saturday. You think you girls could make it? The more the merrier.”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Mama. “I don’t—”

  “Oh, come on, Mama, it’ll be fun.” I was hoping this might be a nice friend for Mama to have. I liked her better than Alisha anyway. She smelled better. Drove a nicer car.

  “Yeah, we gonna have fun,” said Rainey, putting her arm in Mama’s and hugging her side.

  “Oh . . .” Mama looked at Rainey and said, “All right, then. But I’m in between jobs right now, so—”

  “Not to worry, you don’t have to buy a thing,” said the lady. “I just want to catch up and spend some time. Oh, and there’s door prizes.” “Next Saturday it is, then. Thank you.”

  Mrs. Arielle clapped her hands together. “Perfect! Well, I won’t keep you now, but we’re at 154 Mercy Street. You know where that is? Big white house, can’t miss it.”

  “We’ll see you there,” said Mama.

  The car started rolling slowly, but Mrs. Arielle was waving her arm. “Twelve thirty, now. I can’t wait to tell the girls. Bye-bi-iiiie!”

  And off she went in her nice clean car. Mama waved, then pressed her hair down and straightened her dress. I couldn’t tell if her face was flushed because she was hot or happy or pregnant or scared.

  “Let’s just keep going,” she said. “We’re almost there.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  THE LONGEST WALK EVER

  The library was nothing like the one we had in Cypresswood, where a little-bitty building held a few books and a grumpy old man who couldn’t see very well. For some reason he was always at the card catalog, looking for something he must have lost. This library was grand to walk up to, with big white columns out front and big letters across the top saying forest pines public li brary. The lawn was manicured, and a sidewalk down the middle to the front door made me feel like a princess approaching her castle. Reading books was a big deal here in Forest Pines, I could see.

  Inside, there was a whole separate children’s section with pictures of Dr. Seuss on the walls and colorful banners—stuffed animals, even. I headed straight for it. Rainey’s eyes lit up, too, the second we walked in, but she headed for a place in the middle just past the checkout counter with long tables and computers lined up. “Mama, Google!” “Oh, super! All right, honey. You go ahead. I’m gonna be right over there. See those bookshelves? You need me, I’m right there.”

  Rainey nodded and rushed to an empty chair. I decided to follow her. The picture books could wait. There was a young black man sitting across from Rainey, and a white-haired lady two seats down. I sat beside her and Poppy stood behind, hand on Rainey’s shoulder. “Amazing what you can do with these computers today, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Uh-huh,” said Rainey, tongue sticking out. Somebody from before had left Internet Explorer up, and Rainey was already typing with her right index finger, w . . . w . . . w . . .

  “What are you going to look up?” he asked her.

  She paused as the page for Google came up. She liked this page more than Yahoo because it had less going on. Simpler was better for her. She could focus on the search box. “Um, I dunno.”

  I looked over and saw Mama running her fingers along the edges of books in the fiction aisle. A nice-looking man with blond hair walked past her, but she was staring so hard at the books, she didn’t even notice. He certainly noticed her, though, and turned around for a second glance, books in hand. Finally he walked to the checkout desk.

  I thought about Mama. I thought about that man looking at her like she was so pretty, but I bet he had no idea about the secret inside her. I remembered that word Poppy had told us. “I know, type in ’bortion. That’s Mama’s third choice!” I was thrilled to be able to help her even more. I wondered if her list was still on the nightstand, and was excited to figure this out so I could add it to it. “How do you spell it again?” I asked Poppy.

  He sat down in a seat on the other side of Rainey, slow as if his joints ached. He took a deep breath. Then he said, “A-b-o-r . . .”

  Rainey plunked her fat finger on every single letter, just as he said it. She was really good with the keyboard. But she must have hit “search images” because instead of a list of Web sites coming up, a gallery of pictures popped up, row after row after row.

  I swallowed. Hard. This wasn’t right. I was supposed to be seeing cute babies in fat tummies with beautiful angels taking them away. Instead I saw bloody, dead things.

  Some ripped to pieces.

  Tiny body parts lying over fingers.

  Mangled baby faces.

  Black and blue.

  Red and white.

  Fingers and legs with no bodies at all.

  I thought I might throw up. Rainey started screaming at the top of her lungs, hands over her ears. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the computer screen.

  All of a sudden people rushed over, the old lady with white hair, the black man sitting across the way, the people behind the checkout counter, the man with books who thought Mama was pretty, all of them trying to help Rainey out of her chair, and she was kicking and screaming, and Mama ran over and kneeled down. That’s when she saw what we’d been looking at. They all did. Mama’s face turned green, and she said, “It’s all right. It’s all right, honey, shhhhh.” She hugged Rainey tight and screamed, “Somebody turn it off! Turn it off!” and Poppy and I watched Mama’s face as she looked at those pictures on the screen. Baby after baby after baby. Her face scrunched up while she was holding Rainey’s head, and all of a sudden, Mama fell back on the floor, passed out cold. Rainey thought she’d died and so she wailed even longer and harder, and it took five people to carry her outdoors where whisper voices weren’t needed.

  After a couple minutes, an ambulance came and put Mama in it, though she didn’t want to go. “I’m all right, I mean it. I just got lightheaded.” She must have been forceful enough because after a while and a glass of water, they let Mama go, and Poppy, Rainey, Mama, and me walked home, slow and quiet, eyes still burning with what we’d seen, souls scarred and changed forever.

  It was the longest walk I could ever remember.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  CONFESSION

  “Fritz?” I could hear Mama whispering on the telephone. I was coming into the kitchen to get a sip of water, but I waited at the door. I knew it might not be right to listen but I didn’t feel like myself anymore. I was still numbed from the library, my spirit lifeless like Rainey’s poor magic cicada.

  “I need to talk to you,” Mama said. “It’s important.” She was standing up, arms crossed over her chest, her head leaned against the wall. She was sniffling and got off the phone right quick. I came in after and acted like I hadn’t heard, just grabbed my water and headed out to the garden. Mama sat there at the kitchen table and didn’t move a muscle. If she knew I was even there, she didn’t let on. She was in her own little world.

  I wondered what she needed to talk to Uncle Fritz about. Was she going to tell him what had happened today? If so, I didn’t want to be anywhere around. I went out back and found Poppy rocking on the porch. He was eyeing the garden like it was his kingdom. He didn’t look over at me when I took the other seat, but I could see his face was troubled. Looked like he was trying to smooth out the wrinkles with his hand. “Ja
nie, I can remember when I helped my father plant this garden. We had a lot more vegetables here, squash, green beans . . . We ate off this garden. It’s changed a good bit over the years . . . as all things do.”

  He rocked and rocked and I followed, pushing my toes off the porch boards. A nice breeze flowed through us, and I watched as two yellow butterflies danced in a circle, turning and tussling. Then they flew off to find the bushy lantana. Poppy looked over at me. “You got some hair in your eyes, sweetie. Why don’t you put it back so I can see that pretty face?”

  I didn’t budge, but then after he’d said it, it was starting to bug me. Sly-like, I tucked my hair behind my ears. I pulled my knees up to my chest, held my bare feet, and rocked.

  “Your mama’s hair’s getting longer, don’t you think?” he said. “Maybe she’s letting it grow out. You know she used to have these long blonde pigtails when she was little. You wanna know how long?”

  I didn’t feel like talking, but I didn’t want to disrespect him so I murmured a faint “Hmm.”

  “They were so long she had to flop ’em up over her shoulders when she was on the commode, otherwise they’d dunk right in.”

  I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Oh yes, your mother was known for her hair. Everybody always remarked on it—how pretty it was, how lucky she was to have it. Then we moved to Yuma.”

  “What happened in Yuma?”

  “She was about fifteen or so. She chopped her hair off, real close to her head, almost like a boy. To this day I don’t know why she did it.”

  “Maybe she was hot,” I said.

  “Maybe so. But I mourned that hair.”

  “You mourned over hair?”

  “Not the hair exactly, but what it stood for. For what I lost along with that hair, my sweet little girl who called me Daddy, who would sit on my lap at every meal . . .” He cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, next thing you know my little girl’s coming home, announcing she’s having a baby. Your grandma and I didn’t handle it well. We were just . . . caught off guard, I guess. And then off she went.”

  I looked at him to see if he was crying or anything. He wasn’t, but nearly rubbed the arms of that rocking chair plumb off. “ ’Course, all that’s over. I’m here with her now and things seem to be going just fine.”

  “They do?” I had to say it. After the library, the baby photos, screaming, and passing out, I thought for sure things weren’t going fine at all. “She doesn’t seem to talk to you much.”

  “Maybe she’s still upset with me,” he said.

  “She doesn’t talk to me much, neither. Not since we left town. You think she’s upset with me too?”

  “She’s got a lot on her mind.”

  “Yeah, I reckon.” Just that second I remembered the change purse I’d taken from Mama and felt like I needed to get it back to her. Like maybe I never should have taken it at all. It was only adding to her troubles. I was ashamed all of a sudden and excused myself to the upstairs. I’d hidden it in this secret pocket in the corner of the white hard suitcase, worn in because the seam was coming loose. Mama never would have thought to look there.

  I went down to the kitchen to find Mama. I wondered if I should tell her I took her money and apologize or if I should just say, “Look what I found!” That felt a lot like lying, so I figured I just needed to fess up and take whatever came my way.

  She wasn’t in the kitchen. The stove was cold, with little towels hanging off the handle, nice and neat. They had orange teapots embroidered on the front. On the table there was a glass pitcher of iced tea, dripping sweat on another teapot towel. There were two glasses set out. All of a sudden I remembered Uncle Fritz.

  Sure enough, the front door creaked open and I heard Mama say, “So glad you could make it. I know you’re busy.”

  “I was coming over anyway. You look . . . you all right?”

  I heard footsteps padding to the kitchen, and my eyes lit up, wanting a way out. I headed for the back door, but there was no time. I slid to the side of the refrigerator and hid behind a little curtain made especially for covering a food pantry. There wasn’t much in there except a big old tub of grits and some cans of pickled beets and corn. “Aagh!” Mama squealed. “My goodness, would you look at this?” My breath was much too loud for somebody trying to hide, and I hoped nobody could hear me. “I lost my change purse back at the hotel! I lost it, I looked everywhere, and here it is?!”

  My heart pounded in my chest. Be still, be still, I told it. I could hear Mama counting the money I’d accidentally left on the table. Fritz murmured something, but it was so low I couldn’t understand. “I must be losing my mind,” Mama said, stunned. “I just—”

  “Maybe it was old Gertrude, playing a little trick.”

  “Huh, yeah . . . imagine that. I guess Rainey had it? I can’t imagine she would have taken it and not told me when I asked. That’s not like her.” I hoped to goodness Mama wouldn’t suspect me next.

  “Maybe she’s upset about all this travel and such,” Fritz said. “Is she holding up all right? I’ve got a few children like her in church. They have certain needs when it comes to stability and—oh, now, please don’t. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “It’s not you, Fritz.” Mama was crying now. “It’s me. I just . . .” I peeked out the slit in the curtain and saw Fritz sitting at the head of the breakfast table. He saw Mama struggling and said in a gentle voice, “It’s all right, you can tell me anything you want, anytime you want. Trust me, nothing could shock me.” He poured two glasses of tea and pushed one to Mama. I couldn’t see her face, but her back hunched over as she sipped.

  “Thanks,” she said. She set her glass down and seemed to be looking straight at Fritz. His face was kind and attentive. I longed for him to look at me that way.

  “Sometimes I forget how much she’s affected by my life . . . what happens with me and . . . Oh Fritz, I’m pregnant,” Mama said.

  “So I gathered from supper,” he said.

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, it’s just . . .”

  “It’s okay. Go on.”

  “I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I thought if I got out of town, I could think more clearly. But then today at the library, there was this—oh gosh—big to-do, you just wouldn’t believe, and now I’m afraid I’ve really messed things up . . .”

  Fritz didn’t speak but drank his tea. The ice in his glass clinked, and the noise was good. A helpful noise. I looked down at my foot, and a spider was walking by. Luckily it was a bitty little thing, so I didn’t scream or holler. Or squash him. It walked right past me out onto the floor for a better look at Mama and Fritz.

  “I’ve been trying to find the baby’s father,” Mama said after a long while. “I don’t know why, exactly. Except I used to be in love with him.”

  “Used to?”

  “He lived with us for five years. He was the only daddy we ever had in our house. Then he left.”

  My daddy! They were talking about my daddy! My ears sharpened to fine points.

  “I see,” said Fritz. “Well obviously, he came back.”

  “Yes. About a month ago. I was getting off work, and I saw Marilyn in front of the drugstore.”

  “Marilyn?”

  “His motorcycle. He said it had curves like Marilyn Monroe. I was always so dang jealous of that motorcycle, you never forget a thing like that. Anyway, I waited to see if it was him, and sure enough, out he comes. After all that time.”

  “How long had it been?”

  “Four long years.”

  I was trying to make sure I’d heard correctly. Daddy came back and I never saw him? My face grew hot, and I thought I might cry. But I didn’t. Not yet.

  “Goodness,” said Fritz.

  “I was so angry with him, I just let him have it right there on the sidewalk! And he took it. Every little bit. He listened, and then he teared up some. He said he’d been passing through every couple weeks, just hoping to see
me. Said he drove by the house some, but I wasn’t sure if I could believe him or not. I mean, I’d know that cycle anywhere. The sound of it, even.”

  “So, I imagine you two . . . made up.”

  “Sort of. We cried . . . him, me. We got a motel. I thought he was coming back for good.”

  “But he left again.” Fritz’s voice fell flat.

  “He left again,” Mama repeated. “Funny thing. You know, all that time, I’d imagined what it would be like to have him back. I told myself I’d never fall for it again, I’d never get hurt like that again. But I did. And now . . .”

  “Now there’s a baby.”

  Mama put her head down, and Fritz put his hand on her arm. “I know I wasn’t there for a lot of years, Priscilla, but for what it’s worth, I’m here now. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “You can’t imagine how alone I feel.”

  I was next to those grits, my mind whirling and twirling like the loop-the-loop at Disney. I was thinking about my daddy being back and not coming to see me. I was thinking about him leaving my mama again. I was so hot I thought my teeth might pop right out! But the thing that hurt me worst of all was hearing Mama say how alone she was feeling. Here I was. I’d been there with her the whole time, from the minute she found out this baby was coming. I’d been right there with her! Helping her! Didn’t she even care about that? Well, didn’t she?

  Chapter Twenty-five

  HOT ENOUGH TO BOIL

  Sitting there, hiding behind that curtain, listening to the truth about my mama and daddy, I was burning up mad. I felt like as soon as I got out, I didn’t quite care if I ever saw them or any other member of the Macy family again. Well, except for Rainey. And Poppy. And well, okay, Mama too. Who was I kidding? They were all I had.

  Fritz and Mama walked out on the front porch to talk some more. Frankly, I’d had enough eavesdropping for one day, so I crawled out of the pantry and quickly climbed the stairs, whizzing past the portraits of my ancestors. I rounded the corner and sneaked into Mama’s room. I found my list. It appeared she hadn’t even looked at it. I folded it carefully and put it in my pocket, then headed out back for a quiet place in the garden.