Saving Cicadas Page 8

  “Oh, honey. There are some things you don’t understand yet. But you will someday, I promise.”

  “Tell me now, Poppy! Tell me, please. I’m not a little kid. Honest!”

  “Oh, sweetie,” said Poppy, grabbing my arm and holding it tight. I let it lay limp in his hands. “You’re my girl. Just hold tight, all right?”

  We started rolling again and turned left down a tree-lined street. “This is where your roots are, Rainey.” Mama looked in the rearview mirror and smiled. Rainey was barefooted and cross-legged. She pressed her hand in the window as if there was something special she could see outside.

  “There it is. There’s the old house. Wow, that was a long time ago. I was just a child.”

  “Mama and Daddy’s house, God rest ’em,” said Poppy, putting his hand over his heart.

  Before I knew what was happening, the car had slowed to a stop and we were parked out in front of a blue Victorian house that looked just like a great big dollhouse. It had white twisty spindles for the porch railing, and all these little details and doodads along the pointed roofline. There was a round gazebo on the right side of the porch like that one we’d seen at Lake Tomahawk, and with everything in me I wanted to go sit there under the shade of it, looking over the lawn. I was drawn to it as if the house and its lawn were not Mama’s memory, but mine. But I knew I’d never been there before. Then it dawned on me. I did know this house.

  The Christmas after my daddy left, we woke up to find Santa Claus had all but forgotten us. Rainey and I only got one toy, a plastic doll. The same doll. It had a green dress with yellow yarn hair. I didn’t even like dolls much. Santa had to know that. And I’d been really good that year. Extra good, I thought.

  My mother on the other hand, looked like a queen next to Santa. I’d watched her working for days and days, baking, pressing, squeezing, sticking, until she had made the most amazing gingerbread house I had ever seen. Rainey and I were afraid to touch it. We didn’t dare try to break off a piece of candy or a corner of the rooftop for fear it would be gone once we ate it. And if it was gone, we wouldn’t be able to lie there anymore, elbows on the countertop, watching the house, the little door, the little windows, imagining we could be in that house, living there, a full family, with a father, even.

  I had no idea a gingerbread house could grow up out of the ground and come to life, right in front of your very eyes. But this, the house now tall and grand in front of me, was our gingerbread house.

  I looked through the black wrought iron fence built up on brick and stucco peeling away. The gate was closed, and beside it, I saw faded brass numbers, 628.

  “You mean you never saw your grandparents again?” I asked my mother. “When you ran away from Yuma? You never came back to Forest Pines?”

  Mama licked her top lip slowly and shook her head.

  Watching her eyes water, I understood something for the first time. My mother had a whole different life before Rainey and me. She wasn’t a pancake-slopping waitress with bags under her eyes, trying to make ends meet. She wasn’t tired all the time. She became that way because she had us. She gave up this blue Victorian house and everything that came along with it. For us.

  And with no help from the old folks in this car.

  I thought I might be the one getting sick now, but thank goodness, I held it together. Mama didn’t need any more messes to deal with. Her past had gone and grown up out of the ground.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A STEP BACK IN TIME

  {Mona}

  Glory hallelujah! At last. I could not believe what I was seeing. Could not believe that the moon and stars had aligned just right so that my daughter would come within a hundred feet from where we once lived. But she had. She was here, in the flesh. I wanted to reach over and hug her, but I didn’t. I sat there, arms crossed, tense, and wondering if we could ever get her inside. Hold your horses, old woman, I told myself. She’s here, isn’t she?

  Next, a sense of dread filled my bones like an arthritic ache, pulsing, pounding. Heavens, I did not know what to expect. All I’d known was that we needed to get her here. Well, she was here! I simply didn’t know what else was in store for Priscilla. I looked back at Rainey and then Janie. Their eyes were filled with wonder and awe at being in such a strange place, familiar to everyone but them. I wanted so badly to reach my hand back behind the seat to squeeze my little Janie and tell her . . . well, just tell her how much I loved her. That’s all. But I didn’t. Grayson, thank goodness, was doing the honors in my place.

  “Are we going in?” Janie asked. We’d been sitting there, car idling, for about five minutes. Priscilla was still clenching the steering wheel. Every now and again I saw her mouth some words, talking herself into doing it, I suppose. “Let’s just go up to the door and knock,” Janie said. “Maybe somebody’ll open the door.”

  “You know idling makes you use up lots of gas, honey.” Grayson tried to let her be, but he just couldn’t stand it. A man is a man is a man. The lawn outside the window was dark green and overgrown with weeds in places. The rail on the front porch, once white, was now streaked with gray and mildew. I would have hoped it had been kept up a little bit nicer, but oh, to see the old place. It did me good.

  Priscilla hesitated, inhaled, and held her hands to her chest. Then she grabbed the wheel again and put the car back in drive.

  “I can’t do it,” she said. “I can’t.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I snapped. “We came all this way, wasted all that gas, just to see the house from the street? That’s it?”

  “Oh goodness,” said Grayson, putting his hand on Priscilla’s shoulder. “I can’t blame you, sweetheart.” Sitting back, he said, “Mona, think about the last time she was here. Don’t you remember? We were happy then. It was before we moved to Yuma. Oh, why did I ever move us to Yuma? Drought or no drought. Priscilla was just a young girl, just a few years older than Janie the last time she saw this house. Give her some space. Priscilla honey, take all the time you need. I’m right here for you. We all are.”

  Of course, I knew all these things, and tears burned my eyes at the thought. I knew how happy my child was here. How content all of us were. The car was quiet except for the hum of the engine burning the gas Priscilla couldn’t afford. I turned around and watched Janie assessing the house. Her eyes traveled up and rested at the windows up top, dark and shrouded with curtains.

  “Didn’t you say the house was haunted?” she said. “Why’s it haunted, Poppy?”

  “Oh, honey, that’s just . . . when your Grandma Mona and I lived here, she used to swear she could hear footsteps, voices, and such. My mother heard it too, though I never heard a thing. So if you ask me . . .”

  “It was the ghost of your Aunt Gertrude, Grayson,” I said. “She would move things. And throw spools of thread. I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Oh now, that’s enough. Don’t scare the poor girls before they even go in.”

  “Gracious, let’s just—”

  “Let’s go find a motel room,” said Priscilla, changing the subject. “Maybe have us a nice supper. I bet tomorrow I’ll have the nerve to go in. I bet I will. What do you say?”

  “Time go work,” Rainey said. “Need get my apron on.”

  “Oh, I know, baby. I know.” Priscilla sighed long and controlled.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. “Again?”

  “You know your granddaughter, Mona. Don’t act like you’re so surprised. I expect every day of this trip will be more of the same. Not to mention, you should be proud she’s got such good work ethic.”

  “I’m not complaining,” I told Grayson. “I know who my granddaughter is, thank you very much. And I’m very proud of her, but . . . listen, how about just open the door and let me out here.”

  “Don’t pout, Mona.”

  “I’m not pouting; I’m just tired of being in this car, is all. Let me out, Priscilla. I’d like to walk around and get a feel for the old place. See if there’s anybody her
e I still remember.”

  “I’ll go with you, then,” said Grayson.

  Rainey unbuckled herself and pushed on the door. “Open, Mama.” “Honey, we’re not staying—” she said, but I unlatched the door from the front and Rainey stepped on out. Grayson followed her. Rainey stretched her legs and her arms way up to the sky. Priscilla gave her a minute, then said, “Come on back in, Rainey. We’re going to try and find you a grocery store. Would you like that?”

  “Yeah, ’cause I scared-a ghost.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, honey,” said Priscilla. “Come get up front with me.”

  I slipped out of the car when Rainey came in. I grabbed Grayson’s hand and squeezed it tight.

  “Y’all go do your fun and we’ll be waiting here for you,” he told them. “On the front porch, maybe. Suppertime.”

  “Don’t be late,” I added.

  So Priscilla, Janie, and Rainey drove off, my girls, leaving Grayson and me in front of the old house. We needed to see who was still around, see what all had changed. And we needed to spend time alone, away from our loved ones, to pray and prepare and wait for what must come.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE SECRETS OF MOCKING BIRDS

  {Janie}

  The Snooze ’n Eat Inn in Forest Pines was just like Mama’s pancake house back home, but with bedrooms sticking off behind it. She went ahead and paid for a room, slipping her change purse out and digging like there was gold in there and she didn’t want anybody to see it. She set her money down, ran her hands through her hair, and turned back to look at us. She smiled on thin lips and said, “Let’s get checked in. Let me make a phone call. Then maybe we can have a look around town and grab some supper.”

  “Gotta go work, Mama,” Rainey said, like, Duh. You ought to know that by now. Mama was trying to slip one past her.

  “Oh, shucks, ’bout forgot, sweetie. Okay. Just give me a few minutes and we’ll get going, all right?”

  Room 103 was dark and smelled funny. There was a big brown stain on the carpet beneath the air conditioner. It drip, drip, dripped a little tune.

  Mama was quiet and set our white suitcase by the closet. She looked at a bed and sat down on the edge like she was trying hard not to let her skin touch the bedspread. She picked up the phone and pressed buttons. Rainey and I were on the other bed, flipping through TV channels.

  “Alisha? Hey. Forest Pines.” I heard Mama talking real low. To my favorite person. Not that she was so awful, but she didn’t bring Mama up any. I thought she was jealous of how pretty Mama was. Alisha looked like a mixed breed to me, wiener dog and Chihuahua. “No. Huh-uh. Has he said anything?” She twirled the white cord around her fingers. “Well that figures. No. Tell him you don’t know where I am. Let him wonder . . . So how’ve you been?”

  Mama turned to look over at us, and I faced the TV real quick so she didn’t think I was eavesdropping. Which I was.

  “That bad? Gee, I’m sorry, but you’re getting twice the tips, right? Me? Oh, I don’t know. Probably a cashier job at the supermarket. I’ll find something. Yes, she’s fine. Better than I expected. We’re getting ready to find her a grocery store. She’s got to bag every single day no matter where we are. No, I’m not kidding. Don’t laugh. It’s important to her, so it’s important to me. All right, then. No. Still don’t know what I’m going to do.” Mama grabbed her belly and said, “Three choices and not a one looks good. How about you choose the least worst for me?”

  I didn’t hear much more after that because I was caught up on that last part she said. The part about having three choices. I could tell the conversation had switched to the baby. Mama had three choices about the baby? I dug in my pocket and pulled out my list. I ran into the bathroom and flipped the light switch. There it was. Option one and option two. Keep the baby or give it away. But she’d said three options. What more could there possibly be?

  After spending a fair amount of time in the Piggly Wiggly, we drove by the old blue house again. Mama came to a stop right in front of the walkway and stared as if she was imagining walking it. Grandma Mona and Poppy were waiting for us, just like they said they’d be, so they hopped in and off we went to find the motel.

  “Y’all have a nice time?” asked Poppy, holding his knees and chipper as usual. His bow tie was a little crooked. He was the only man I’d ever known who wore one every day, red with tiny black dots like a ladybug. “We had a nice walk, didn’t we, Mona?”

  “Yes. Except for seeing Clarabelle Shoemaker. I didn’t care if I ever saw her again.”

  “Hard to miss her, though, when she’s right there across the street.”

  “Well, I know but—”

  “Rainey did such a good job, they gave us some leftover sandwiches from the deli,” I blurted out.

  “That so? That’s wonderful, Rainey.” Poppy leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “We got tuna fish and egg salad. Ham and cheese, but I don’t like ham. I took it off.”

  “That’s right, honey,” said Mama. “You did a fine job. You’re a real hard worker. I’m proud of you.”

  Rainey’s face beamed in the blue light of dusk. For her, there was nothing more important than making Mama proud of her. I guess that went for me too. There was nothing better than putting a smile on Mama’s face.

  Rainey and I sat in the backseat nibbling two halves of a cheese sandwich. Mama grabbed egg salad, but Poppy and Grandma Mona said they’d have their tuna fish back at the motel. There was nibbling, teeth chomping, and paper crinkling until we rounded the bend and were almost there.

  “Great, I’m almost out of gas,” Mama said. “Tomorrow I’ll ask Mr. Stevens if he’ll pay you in actual money. These sandwiches are good, but they can’t fill up the tank.”

  “Okay, Mama.”

  “You mean you’re actually planning on staying in the same town for more than one night?” said Grandma Mona. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Come on, let’s go in,” said Mama. “Get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow’s gonna be a big day.”

  We finished up our food and stuffed the wrappers in a plastic grocery bag, then everybody slid out and headed for the building. I took Poppy’s hand and pulled him back at the last second, letting the others go on ahead into room 103. “I need to talk to you,” I told him.

  He turned to me, eyes dark brown and crinkly. “What is it, sugar? Something wrong?”

  “I just need to talk.”

  “Okay.” He leaned in the door and whispered, “Mona. Janie and I are going out for a few minutes.”

  “I wanna come,” said Rainey, cradling her baby doll in her arms. Her cicada was lying in a plastic sandwich box on the dresser, not much interested anymore in flying. Mama was fussing over the suitcase, emptying the clothes into the drawers. Don’t know why she did it when she’d just pack them up again tomorrow or whenever we’d head to wherever we were going next.

  “I got to talk to Poppy, Rainey. Just give us a minute.”

  “Poppy?” Rainey was all fretful, so Poppy said, “Oh honey, it won’t harm for her to hear. She doesn’t care. Right, Rainey?”

  Rainey grinned. There was a glob of sandwich bread stuck in her teeth. “Goodie,” she said, so the three of us paced back down the concrete sidewalk and out to a little fountain in the parking lot. It was an odd place for a fountain, and it gave the impression it’d been here long before the lot was paved, maybe back when the place was grander than it was now.

  Rainey took her shoes off and dangled her feet in the black water. She leaned down and collected coins lying in the bottom, left over from desperate people’s wishes. I was nervous about what I was going to say, so I was happy to have distractions. They came in all forms. An old yellow car about the size of a boat cruised in and around the parking lot, then bumped back onto the street. I heard a bird singing. Then another and another. When the songs were over, a single mockingbird flew out of a tree and dive-bombed us. Poppy saw me watching the bird and h
e said, “You know why they call them mockingbirds?”

  “Huh-uh.”

  “Because they mock other birds. They can listen to a birdsong, then copy it exactly. They sing over and over, then switch to another song. It can fool you sometimes.”

  “I thought that was three birds.”

  “That’s what I mean,” he said.

  “Are they making fun of them . . . of the other birds?” I asked.

  “Not sure about that. What I do know is it has something to do with staking their territory. Protecting their young.”

  “So . . . they pretend to be something they’re not, so you can’t see them coming when they dive-bomb you? Our next-door neighbor Miss Carson used to complain about mockingbirds attacking her cats.”

  Poppy looked at me and said, “That’s how it appears, yes. God has a way of providing every creature a way of surviving. Some are just more creative than others. Remember the magicicada? It protects itself by coming up out of the ground in great numbers. The mockingbird does it by changing its voice.”

  I turned around and watched the trees for more mockingbirds.

  “So what’s all this about?” asked Poppy, his arms now crossed. His feet were shoulder width apart, hips tucked under like he was planting himself against a gale wind. “What did you need to talk to me about that was so important? I know it wasn’t mockingbirds.”

  “Well . . . I know I’m not supposed to listen in on conversations, but I promise, Mama said everything right there in front of me and Rainey. She was talking to Alisha on the telephone.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “She said she has three choices with this baby and none of ’em look good.”

  Poppy’s chest fell flat and he raised an arm to rub the back of his neck. “I see,” he said.

  “But I don’t see,” I whined. “See this?” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my list of pros and cons. There were a lot more pros listed for adoption already, like Mama won’t have to make any more money than she already does and We won’t have to find a bigger house to move in. Poppy stared at the list, his eyes flicking from Keep the Baby to Give the Baby Away. “There’s only two options I know of,” I said.