Читать книгу The Oleander Sisters - Elaine Hussey - Страница 9

Four

SWEET MAMA’S KITCHEN SMELLED of fried chicken and field peas cooked with fatback, sweet corn seasoned with butter and sweet potato casserole cooked with chunks of pineapple, each scent as distinctive to Emily as if she’d personally stood at Beulah’s elbow watching her cook for Jim. While Andy began a reconnaissance of the area that included looking in every cabinet and peering out the window, Emily set the coconut cream pie on the table beside a platter piled high with Beulah’s biscuits.

The kitchen was Emily’s favorite room in Sweet Mama’s house, or any house, for that matter. Her best memories were here. She ran her hands over the scarred surface of the table. She’d sat at that same table while Sis struggled to explain the mystery of numbers and her twin brother breezed through the multiplication table as if he’d been born knowing it. She pictured her own little maple table and how Larry would soon bend patiently over Andy, helping him add and subtract and listening to him as he read about Dick and Jane from the first grade reader. Did they still teach Dick and Jane? She could hardly wait to find out.

“Mommy!” Andy tugged at her skirt. “Sis is out in the backyard! Can I go out and make frog houses with her?”

“That’s a wonderful idea. But first go out to the front porch and tell Beulah and Sweet Mama I’m going upstairs to see Uncle Jim.”

“’K!” He raced off, his sneakers skidding in the polished hallway.

“Andy,” she called. “Don’t run in the house.”

“I won’t.”

Emily grinned. Of course he would. What little boy ever walked when it was so much more fun to run?

She got a dessert plate from the cabinet and cut a generous slice of pie, then headed upstairs to find her brother. Beulah said he hadn’t come out of his room all day. When Emily got upstairs and pushed open his door, she saw evidence of his hermitlike day—his bed still unmade, the plate of half-eaten chicken and the glass with ice melting in leftover tea. Jim was sitting in a straight chair at his desk, an open book in front of him, his beard stubble so blond it was barely visible.

“Em!” His smile reminded her of Andy’s, except for the vacant eyes.

“What are you reading?”

She walked over and put her arm around his shoulder, and he gestured toward the page, Constellations and Constitution in Volume C of the Encyclopedia Britannica. He could have been reading about either one with equal curiosity.

“I hope Andy inherited your brain,” she said.

“I hope he’s nothing like me.” The force of his passion catapulted him from his chair, while Emily stood by, helpless. “Look at me, Em! I can’t even stand the sight of my own face.”

“It’s a dear face. I love your face.” She cupped her brother’s cheeks. “Look at me, Jim.”

“Don’t, Em.” He jerked away. “Everywhere I turn I see the eyes of the dead staring back at me. Even when I look at my own sisters.”

He grabbed his crutch and clomped to the window while she stood in the middle of the room wondering what to do. When Andy was hurting she could pull him onto her lap and smooth his hair and sing-song his favorite nursery rhyme. Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the King’s horses and the King’s men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again.

Who would put her brother back together?

She joined him at the window and linked her arm through his, then just stood there, not saying a word, scarcely daring to breathe in case he pulled away. She tried to think of something wise to say, but in the end nothing came to her. In the end she said a silent prayer, not even knowing whether God would listen to something as simple as Help my brother. Help me help my brother.

A breeze came through the open window, welcome after a day of intense heat, and voices drifted through—the indecipherable, meandering conversation of Sweet Mama and Beulah on the front porch and the clear, high voice of Andy in the backyard, peppering Sis with questions.

“Do holes have bottoms?”

“Can I dig to China?”

“Do frogs get married?”

“Is first grade scary?”

“Can I come home if I don’t like it?”

The sun was lowering toward the western horizon, reminding Emily she’d promised to cook dinner for Larry. An anxiousness rose inside her, the kind of wishy-washy feeling she hated. How could she leave her brother and yet how could she disappoint her fiancé? A mosquito buzzed through the window, and she balanced on one foot to scratch the back of her leg. She got red welts every time one bit her.

“Jim?” He turned toward her with a look of surprise, as if he were just returning from a faraway country and couldn’t believe she was there waiting for him. “If I invite Larry over for dinner here, will you come down and eat with us?”

“I’m not good company.”

“You don’t have to be good company. In fact, you don’t even have to make conversation. I’d just like for you to spend some time with the man who is going to be your brother-in-law.”

His long silence was bound to be no. She scratched her mosquito bite again, waiting.

When her brother finally shrugged and said, “Okay,” Emily felt as if she’d successfully led an expedition to the North Pole.

She left him heading toward the bathroom to shave, and went downstairs to call Larry. When she got to the telephone in the kitchen, she lost some of her resolve. Should she discuss the revised dinner plans with Beulah and Sis first? But what if Larry said no, and then she’d have to tell them he wasn’t coming?

“Emily?” Sis was suddenly standing in the doorway, holding the hand of a dirty little urchin after an enthusiastic excavation of the backyard.

“Good Lord, Sis, you startled me.”

“What’s up, Em? You look like a scared rabbit.”

“Mommy, what’s a scared rabbit?”

“Go wash your hands and face, Andy,” she told her son. “I’ll explain later.”

As he marched off, she told Sis about her plans to invite Larry over for dinner and how it might turn out to be a wonderful ploy to get their brother out of his bedroom.

“That’s great, Em!”

“I thought I could find something in the pantry to fix.”

“Good Lord, Emily. Beulah always cooks enough to feed an invasion of Martians. And don’t you worry about Sweet Mama.”

“Are the Martians coming?” Andy was back, standing in the doorway bouncing up on his toes in his excitement.

“No, the Martians are not coming.” Emily studied the level of dirt still on her son. “You forgot to wash behind your ears. I could build a frog house with that leftover dirt.”

“’K.”

As her son raced off once more and her sister puttered around the kitchen—washing her hands, pouring herself a glass of iced tea—Emily felt herself settle down. Apart from her family and Sweet Mama’s café, she sometimes felt a bit out of her element, as if she’d taken a wrong turn on the road and ended up in an unfamiliar place.

“Okay, then.” She smiled as Sis settled into a kitchen chair with her tea. “That settles everything.”

“It’s a good idea, Em. Larry needs to learn more about the family he’s marrying into.”

The way her sister’s eyes gleamed, it seemed to Emily the shoe was on the other foot: Sis was the one who wanted to find out about the man Emily would soon be calling her own. Still, as she picked up the kitchen phone and dialed Larry’s work number, she even felt a small sense of accomplishment.

When she said, “Hello, Larry,” and he called her darling, she saw her future unfold as a series of Hallmark cards, each scene a perfect depiction of a happy family.

Words spilled out of her so fast, she got tangled up and had to start over. By the time she’d finished telling him about the change of plans, she was flushed as if she’d been running.

There was a deep silence at the other end of the line.

“Larry? Are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“Oh, thank goodness. For a minute, I thought we’d been cut off.”

“No, I was thinking...how could you just change plans without even discussing it with me?”

“Well, of course I should have. I know that.” She bit her lip, feeling somehow inadequate and wondering what she’d done that was so wrong. “Still, my brother is just home from the war, and he’s feeling so alone right now, I thought it would be nice if you could come over and cheer him up.”

Why didn’t Larry say something?

“You know, a little man-to-man talk in a house full of women?” She waited, nervous, and still Larry said nothing. “Of course, there’s Andy, but I’m afraid his conversation runs to frog houses and rocket ships.”

Emily twisted the phone cord around her fingers, and a little pulse started pounding in her temple.

“Larry? Are you still there?” She put a hand to her forehead and silently counted to three. “Say something. Please.”

Sis set down her glass in that slow, deliberate manner she had when she was getting ready to wade into the middle of a situation gone bad. Even worse, she pushed back her chair. Emily frantically signaled her sister to sit back down.

When Larry finally decided to talk to her again, she was so flustered she nearly dropped the receiver.

“You said you’d make spaghetti and meatballs, Emily.” He was breathing hard, like somebody having a heart attack.

“Larry? Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right. Just disappointed, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry, Larry.” She looked down at her engagement ring and twisted it on her finger. “I was just... I don’t know what I was doing.” She squinted at her ring. “I was just trying to be helpful, that’s all.”

Sis was scowling so hard it seemed to Emily the whole room had gone dark.

“I was looking forward to your spaghetti, Emily,” Larry told her.

“I promise you I’ll make spaghetti and meatballs the next time. And listen, Beulah is one of the best cooks on the Gulf Coast. I know you’re going to enjoy having dinner with my family.”

“I even told my boss I was eating spaghetti my fiancée made.”

“I’m sorry, Larry. I really, really am.”

She couldn’t even look at Sis. She knew what she’d see: a sister getting ready to explode.

Emily frantically searched for a way to salvage the situation. It was too late to fix spaghetti from scratch and still have dinner at her house at a decent hour. But she could pick up some spaghetti sauce on her way home and doctor it up so Larry wouldn’t be able to tell it from the real thing.

“Listen, Larry. Just forget I even mentioned dinner at Sweet Mama’s. I’ll hurry on home to cook and see you in a little while. Okay?”

His sigh was as dramatic as Andy’s when he’d been told he had to take a bath before going to bed.

“I forgive you, sweetheart. And I’ll come to Sweet Mama’s for dinner. But next time, discuss plans with me first, okay?”

“Of course. I will.”

Sis was out of her chair before Emily had even hung up the phone.

“That rat! What did he say to you?”

“He was disappointed about the spaghetti, Sis, that’s all.”

“Disappointed, my hind foot. It looks like he put you through the wringer.” Sis stomped over to the sink and dumped the rest of her iced tea so hard ice cubes bounced over the lip of the sink and rattled to the floor. “I’d like to slap some sense into him. And if he gives me half a chance, I will.”

“We have to all get along.”

“If he wants to get along with me, he’d better start treating my sister right.”

“He treats me just fine. Really, he does.”

“Do you call that fine, being reduced to a nervous wreck just because you invited him to dinner?” Sis snatched up a dish towel and attacked the ice cubes on the floor. “Apologizing for Pete’s sake, as if you’d done something wrong!”

“Please, Sis! He’s going to be my husband!”

Sis went very still, collecting her rage the way the air collects turbulence right before a tornado rips through. If you didn’t know Sis, you’d tremble in your shoes; you’d expect her to tear into you any minute and try to straighten you out. But Emily saw with a sister’s heart. She watched Sis rein in her feelings and bury them so deep not a glimmer was left behind.

Sis dumped the ice cubes back into the sink, easy now in her movements and her posture.

“All right. I’ll behave.”

“Oh, Sis! I knew you would.”

“But that doesn’t mean I like it, Em.”

“I know.”

“I don’t like this man and I don’t like the idea of you marrying him. But we’ll get through the evening. Now I’m going to clean up and then warn Sweet Mama and Beulah.”

“Warn?”

“Tell. Is that better?”

“Much.”

“Em, I want you to think about the way Larry acted over something as simple as coming here for dinner. If he’s this controlling now, what will he be like after the wedding?”

“Sis, don’t start on Larry again.”

“I’m not starting on Larry. Just promise me you’ll think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I promise.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Sis left the kitchen while the conversation with Larry burned through Emily. Not even the endearment he’d used to say goodbye could erase the sense that she’d headed out to pick a basketful of ripe strawberries and ended up in a tangle of briars. She bent over the sink to splash cool water on her hot face, then stood with water dripping down her chin, simply stood there staring into space.

Sis’s footsteps echoed on the wooden floors upstairs. She’d be going about her business, getting cleaned up for dinner. From the direction of the hall closet came sounds of Andy’s rambunctious search, probably for one of Sis’s old balls and her baseball bat. Out on the porch, her grandmother and Beulah would be drinking sweet tea from tall, cool glasses, blissfully unaware of the little storm that had swept through the kitchen.

After a little while, Emily shook herself like a woman coming out of a bad dream, then searched the pantry till she found an apron. She wasn’t going to let this little setback spoil the evening. It was going to be great, maybe even wonderful, that’s all. She wouldn’t have it any other way. Her brother needed wonderful, and right this minute, so did she.

* * *

Upstairs Sis washed the dirt off and changed into fresh slacks and a clean black T-shirt, but there was nothing she could do to erase the awful way Emily had looked during her phone conversation with Larry. He’d crushed her with the ease and carelessness of someone smashing a butterfly.

She thought about knocking on Jim’s door and relating the incident to him, but he might be getting dressed, and besides, he was too hurt from his own wounds to be burdened with Sis’s dark opinions.

She headed back downstairs to warn Sweet Mama and Beulah. They were both in rocking chairs on the porch, swaying gently to the ebb and flow of their conversation. Sis stood in the doorway a moment, the rhythm of their words running through her like a beloved song. No matter what was going on in the world around her, Sis could hear their voices and feel herself being tethered to this place she called home. She allowed herself the luxury of soaking up that comfort a moment longer, and then she pushed away and marched across the wooden porch.

“Guess who’s coming to dinner?” she said.

“If you fixing to tell me you bringing Sidney Poitier, I’m gonna get all gussied up.” Beulah chuckled, and after a heartbreaking lag, Sweet Mama joined her.

They both loved Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. When it had first come out two years ago, they’d planned the theater outing as if they were going on an overnight trip to the Peabody Hotel in Memphis.

“I hate to disappoint you, Beulah. It’s not Sidney. It’s Larry Chastain.”

“Who?” Sweet Mama said, and Sis leaned down to put a hand on her shoulder.

“Emily’s fiancé. Remember?”

“Of course I do. What do you think I am? Senile?” Sweet Mama eased out of her rocker, one blue-veined hand clutching the armrest to steady herself. “Come on, Beulah. If company’s coming, we’re eating in the dining room and using the good silver.”

“I ain’t sure that man’s worth no good silver, Lucy.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Ain’t you always the judge?” Beulah winked at Sis, then took a hold of Sweet Mama’s arm and led her back into the house. Sis would have followed them, but she knew they’d shoo her out of the way. She was useless around crockery and cutlery. She always ended up breaking or spilling something, and in general making a big mess that had to be cleaned up. She knew her place, and it certainly wasn’t in the kitchen.

She leaned against a porch column and shaded her eyes, looking for signs of her future brother-in-law. She wanted to be the first to see him, to talk to him before Emily came out all flushed, trying to act as if Larry hadn’t already spoiled her evening.

Sis flicked a speck of dust off the front of her shirt, harder than necessary, so hard in fact, that she ended up feeling the sting of her own slap.

His car came upon her suddenly, turning into the driveway before she had decided what she was going to say to him. Let him off the hook completely? Pretend she didn’t know he’d acted an ass about dinner? Emily would be pleased if she kept quiet, but Sis might just choke on her own bile.

“Sis! Don’t you look a vision?” Larry strode up the front steps with the confidence of a smooth-talking, handsome man used to turning heads. Before she knew what was happening, he was bent over her hand, kissing it, and she found herself staring at the too-straight part slicing through his black hair.

“A nightmare is more like it,” she said.

Larry didn’t respond to her self-deprecating comment. Instead, he let go of her hand, thank God, and looked out over the Gulf.

“You have a beautiful view. No wonder Emily loves this place.”

“She does, but then Emily loves almost everything and everybody.”

“Lucky me. I finally found a woman who could look beyond my flaws and see a hero.”

“Emily’s a sweet, trusting woman, Larry. And easily hurt.”

“She’s the woman of every man’s dreams.”

“Yes, she is. I’m glad you know how lucky you are to have her.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it.” Suddenly, Larry puffed up with such self-importance Sis thought he’d levitate right off the front porch. “A salesman learns to read people. When I saw your sister, I read her like a book.”

“And what did that book say?” If he noticed her sarcasm, he didn’t show a sign.

“‘I’m a woman you can keep barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen.’”

He laughed at his own Dark Ages attitude, and Sis wanted to slap him off the porch. Emily saved him, rushing out pink-faced and smiling, the only sign of her nervousness showing in the way she wadded a corner of her blue gingham apron into a tight fist.

“Larry! I’m so glad you’re here.” She rushed over to hug him, and he winked over her shoulder at Sis.

Did that jackass dare to think they were coconspirators? Or was he so certain of his hold over her sister that he didn’t care how he flaunted his power?

Still steaming, she watched Larry lead her sister into the house. She had to stand on the porch deep breathing before she could follow. The evening couldn’t be over fast enough to suit Sis.