Forty-Four
Trudy
Trudy wrestled with the road map, trying her best to smooth it out. “Why do they fold these things like this?”
“Just breathe, True-Belle,” Dub said.
They’d been driving forever but didn’t seem anywhere near Frog Trot, Alabama. Trudy pointed out a gas station ahead. “We should stop and ask for directions.” Plus, Trudy needed to pee, and the car needed gas. Dub pulled in, got out, and started unscrewing the gas cap while Trudy ran inside.
“Come on in, honey!” a lady behind the counter said.
It smelled like oil cans and rubber. “Hello,” Trudy said. “Restroom?”
“Right behind you, hon.”
In the dank bathroom, Trudy layered as much toilet paper as she could on the seat, unzipped her slacks, and squatted.
Afterwards, she looked in the mirror. “Oh God,” she said.
“I look like I’m on my way to haunt a house.
That’s it,” she ordered her reflection. “You’re scheduling a perm this week.
” She also realized she didn’t have a plan.
She’d show up to Frog Trot, of all places on earth, and Shug would have that game face, biting his bottom lip.
And she would say what, exactly? Just kidding!
It wasn’t the biscuits. You actually do love me!
He’d look at her like she was crazy. Rightfully so.
Also, she’d dripped mustard on her white sweater, right on her boob.
Maybe it was good they’d gotten lost. They needed to turn around and go back. This was a bad idea.
When she exited the bathroom, the lady asked, “Can I help you, punkin’?” Her salt-and-pepper hair was frizzy, but her face was soft and seasoned with age.
“We were headed to Frog Trot, but it’s so late, I think we should probably just go back home.” Trudy thumbed toward the door, indicating Dub. “You know how men are about directions.”
The lady laughed. “My name’s Imogene.”
Trudy paused at the unprompted introduction. “Trudy . . . nice to meet you.”
Imogene had already pulled out a map and was drawing on it with a marker. “See right here, punkin’? Y’all shoulda kept going on 431 instead of on 75.” Imogene passed the map to Trudy.
But how had Imogene known which direction they’d come from?
“And I guess you need a couple of Cokes, huh?” Imogene said.
Trudy looked up. “Oh, Daddy doesn’t drink Coke. Unless it’s got bourbon in it.” Trudy winked.
“I don’t mean for your daddy.”
“In that case ... one’s enough for me? Thanks.” Trudy started folding the map.
“You can’t show up with only one Coke, Trudy.” Imogene’s voice sounded exactly like Leta Pearl’s then.
Trudy suddenly felt cool, like she’d walked into a cave. “Do I know you?”
Imogene had her head in a cooler of soft drinks behind her. “Dang! Afraid we’re all out of Coca-Cola, punkin’,” she called. “How bout RC?”
Trudy peered at Imogene, then glanced outside, catching a glimpse of the big neon sign.
ABERDEEN MOUNTAIN OIL.
Her mouth fell open.
“Forgot to tell you my last name.” Imogene’s grin revealed she’d lost a tooth. “Imogene Aberdeen.” She pulled a Styrofoam cooler off a shelf behind her. “Just saw your Mama last week, getting refills. Lord she’s been busy lately, that one.”
Trudy blinked.
“She gave me the rundown, you know; I knew you’d show up here sooner or later.”
“But we didn’t mean to ...” Trudy gestured toward the door. “We made a wrong turn.”
Imogene cackled. “Ain’t no such thing as wrong turns to Aberdeen Mountain, honey. Especially for an Aberdeen woman like yourself. Why, every single one of us eventually finds her way here. This mountain has its own heartbeat, you know? Just pulls us back.”
“This can’t be real,” Trudy whispered, remembering that Halloween was only two days away. Someone was trying to spook her. Or maybe she was on Candid Camera .
“Want me to pinch you?” Imogene laughed, placed the two RCs with the ice in the cooler.
“So, this is where the oil comes from?”
“Did the gigantic neon sign give it away?” Imogene had come around the counter now.
“But that oil . . .” Trudy felt her breath getting shorter, felt herself getting upset. She thought of Jimmie, of Shug and Haskel. Her daddy. “It’s wrong . . . Imogene . . . and dangerous .”
Imogene’s shoulders dropped. “Your mama said you’d say that. But you’re mistaken. Because there’s one thing you need to know.”
Trudy blinked again, tried to wake herself again, but Imogene neither disappeared nor morphed into something else like she would if this were a dream.
“I need you to promise, however, that you’ll never tell a soul, especially not Leta Pearl.”
Trudy scowled, tilted her head.
Imogene sighed heavily. “Your great-great grandmother Laurie Jolene Aberdeen burned the recipe back in 1956. Threw it right into the bonfire at your Uncle Isham’s fiftieth birthday.
No one’s had any since.” Imogene held Trudy’s cheeks softly, looked in her eyes, pulled a small dropper bottle out of her pocket, one just like Leta Pearl’s.
“It’s just Wesson with a scootch of oregano to give it a little twang. ”
Trudy studied the little glass bottle. “It’s fake? You’re selling phony oil?”
“No!” Imogene tittered and snatched the bottle back. “I’m selling hope . And confidence.”
Trudy shook her head. “But I’ve seen what happens. Sweaty brows? Dilated pupils? Dying confessions of love?”
“That’s right, darling. You’ve witnessed the power of a woman who believes in herself.”
Trudy narrowed her eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you, Trudy, don’t need any magic. You’ve got everything you need, right here.” Imogene tapped Trudy’s breastbone.
She let it sink in, this surreal woman in this surreal place.
It meant her daddy’s love for Leta Pearl was true and that Haskel’s change of heart had nothing to do with magical oil wearing off.
She thought of Jimmie, no less of a heart-shattering tragedy, but his demise was his , and everyone, especially Trudy, could grieve the loss of him without guilt or blame.
The chemistry of Leta Pearl’s love biscuits had nothing to do with any of it.
It was all just the chemistry of so many wild and reckless hearts. And now there was Shug.
“Wait!” Imogene said. “There actually is something else you need.” Imogene scurried over to the display of gas-station snacks. “You can’t take him RCs without MoonPies, dear.” She tossed two MoonPies in the cooler and secured the lid. “Now, hug my neck and get out of here.”
Trudy handed the folded-up map with Imogene’s directions to Dub who asked, after a couple of miles down the road, if she was all right. She looked in the back seat; the cooler with the RCs and MoonPies was still there. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.”
Set low where the Appalachians begin surrendering into plains, Frog Trot smelled of wet leaves and grit.
The radio signal had petered out several miles back while Bailey Springs had a seven-point lead, 28–21, but the Frog Trot Pirates had been driving with two minutes left.
She grabbed the two RCs and shoved the MoonPies in her jacket pocket.
The scoreboard clock was at zero; Visitor 28, Pirates 27. Gina Spencer waved her over from the sideline. “You missed an exciting one,” she said and hugged Trudy.
“They missed the extra point?” Trudy asked.
“Blocked,” Miss Spencer smiled.
Trudy hugged her again.
“Totally awesome game,” Carter said as he walked over to them with Rejoice and Faye. “But we missed you.”
“Carter?” Trudy couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around the boy. “I figured you wouldn’t—”
“Figured he wouldn’t what?” Rejoice said. “You didn’t think I was going to let him quit, did you? Uh-uh.” Rejoice elbowed Carter. “We finally did a one-handed liberty tonight.”
Trudy laughed. “I don’t know what that means.” She leaned in and whispered, “But I hope it’s something we get in trouble for.”
Faye hugged Trudy and pulled her in. “You can’t leave us again!”
“Faye! My goodness.”
“Everything you said at that board meeting was exactly what this town needed to hear.”
Trudy unwrapped herself from Faye. “You were there?”
“We all were,” Rejoice said.
“In the lobby, eavesdropping,” Carter added.
“Dee Dee told us not to go.” Faye shrugged. “So, of course, we did.”
Rejoice said, “We were this close to barging in and showing them what an actual protest looks like.”
Trudy said, “Y’all aren’t serious.”
“Yes ma’am,” Carter said.
“And that’s why,” Faye went on. “When I’m head cheerleader next year, I’m demanding you be the sponsor.”
“Oh, Faye.” Trudy squeezed Faye’s hand. “We’ll see.”
“Pfft!” Faye swatted Trudy’s words out of the air. “No reason you can’t. Barbara Beaumont won’t be around anymore, and my daddy gives way more money to the Booster Club anyway, so I’ll get what I want.”
Faye definitely sounded like a head cheerleader, but somehow it fit her in a way that made Trudy proud. She might just have to consider it.
“All right, y’all,” Gina said. “Finish packing up, let’s leave Frog Trot better than we found it. Meet by the locker room to congratulate the boys.”
They took one last gander at Trudy, then scurried off.
“I have to say,” Gina waved a finger. “Your squad is very sweet.”
“Those three, indeed. Not sure about the others.”
“Believe it or not, even Vangie’s quite the angel when Dee Dee’s not around.”
“Oh, God.” Trudy had forgotten about Dee Dee. “Where is she?”
“Says she’s got the flu?” Gina shrugged. “But who knows? None of the Beaumonts are here. And weirdly, Lucy Moody came alone ... without the mayor.”
Trudy felt herself slump at the news; it disappointed her that Leon hadn’t come. “And June Bug?”
“Played an exceptional game.”
That made Trudy smile. Trudy had no idea how much Miss Spencer, or anyone else, knew about June Bug, so she left it there. “Was Haskel here?”
Gina shook her head. “Didn’t see him.”
Trudy saw Shug making his way to the locker room, his back toward them. She swallowed.
Miss Spencer touched Trudy’s arm, “You okay?”
“I’m about to find out.” Trudy said, and she drew in a breath. “S’that you, Doyle?” she called. “Doyle Meechum?”
Shug dead-stopped midstride but didn’t turn around.
She didn’t realize how much she’d missed him, but she sure wished he’d been smiling when he turned to face her.
Instead, his square jaw flexed as he ground his teeth.
His chest rose, then fell. His face was stone as he cleared his throat.
“The only Doyle I know is just some Podunk football coach. And surely you’re not looking for him. ”
Trudy closed her eyes and sighed. “I deserve that.” She dropped her head and was about to turn and walk away.
“Who’s asking?” His eyes narrowed.
“Oh, you know, just the worst teacher in all of Bailey County, Alabama.”
He put his hands in his pockets. “Someone has toppled my reign?”
She cleared her throat. “My friend Frances said I’d find you here,” she said. “You might know her? Makes excellent ham sandwiches.”
He was in front of her now, Trudy having made her way to him.
His eyes studied her, taking in her cheeks, her nose.
Faded Old Spice mixed with musky sideline sweat, the scent she imagined he woke up with every morning.
This was the longest she’d ever seen him hold a straight face.
The vigor of his coolness drove her crazy.
“Frances is a crafty woman,” he said. “I thought she could be trusted.” He gathered her hand without losing her gaze.
Her breath left her as if she’d dipped her toe into ice water.
Except there was nothing icy about the heat circulating in every part of her now.
He caressed each one of her fingers with his thumb and index finger.
When he got to her ring finger, his eyebrows lifted.
“You broke up with your boyfriend.” The corner of his lip ticked up.
Trudy found her breath, then held up the bottles. “They only had RC.”
He removed his cap and scratched his head, shaking it in disappointment. “That’s too bad. Because those won’t do without a MoonPie, I’m afraid.”
Trudy closed her eyes, relishing her thoughts. She imagined the grin she was about to put on his face. She imagined the kiss she knew was coming thereafter.
She’d come to Frog Trot with everything she needed.