Chapter Six #2
“He’s like family,” she answered without hesitation, ladling food into the to-go container.
“Libby, Thea, and June too. A couple of those ex-wives of Keith’s had trouble with how close we all are.
Then the last one left when his mama began showing symptoms of Alzheimer’s.
The woman kept insisting on correcting Libby.
Keith finally told the wife that if his mama insisted a sandy field looked like snow, then wet it down and build a snowman.
Because saying different wouldn’t erase her confusion. ”
“It’s admirable the way he takes care of her.
” Martin walked to the counter as she sealed the lid on the plastic container.
“Okay then, if you’re sure about him staying in the Airstream.
I’ll do a sweep of the grounds before I leave.
Promise me you’ll keep the doors locked and your cell phone close by at all times. ”
“Of course.” An impish light glinted in her eyes an instant before she scooped a spoon through the remainder of the grits. Cupping her hand underneath, she lifted the spoon to his mouth. “I’m curious about the verdict.”
He looked at the unappetizing glob, but then he’d never been one to turn down a dare. He stepped closer, cradling his hand under hers as he angled forward to taste ...
Once again, she’d surprised him.
The buttery smoothness melted along his taste buds. “It’s good.”
“Told ya so,” she said with more of that sass that drew him. Easing back, she dropped the spoon in the sink with a clank. “I’ll set the alarm system, and we have Skeeter as a backup.”
Her words returned him to reality. That state-of-the-art security system seemed pricier than he would have expected since Mrs. Winnie had been so frugal. Still, would it be enough so far out in the country? “I can stay over too.”
She thrust the container into his hands, holding on for a moment, the two of them connected by that tub of grits and gumbo. “Thank you. But we’ve imposed enough, and you mentioned needing to get to the office to finish some paperwork.”
Rather than argue, he decided to take the evening off and eat his supper in the truck, parked at the end of the driveway where he could keep watch.
Because both of his jobs had taught him all too well. The worst creatures came out at night.
1971
I wondered how long it would take for the fall weather to cool down. The walk from the factory to the gas station to pick up Keith from Annette felt twice as long. Even when fanning my face with a church bulletin the mill had misprinted.
Back in Mobile, I hadn’t realized how much the breeze blowing off the Gulf blunted the heat.
I’d lived in a house on the coast with a pool growing up, and near the ocean with Phillip before moving to the country.
Here, the river was beautiful, but the marsh gave the air a pervasive mugginess that no breeze could alleviate.
This summer adapting had been rough for Libby. For me too since we didn’t see as much of each other, but her difficulties were rooted more in the logistics of caring for her young son.
I volunteered to help with Keith when I could, if she wanted to pick up a swing shift.
The offer just fell out of my mouth. Maybe from some latent grief over not having a child and from a sense of guilt over having it easier than she did.
She’d agreed, but only if I would let her teach me how to cook something other than desserts.
Two weeks after school resumed, Keith landed in the principal’s office for fighting.
Libby had to clock out early for the resulting parent-teacher conference about his behavior.
Then Keith caught chicken pox, and she’d needed the extra money again to pay the doctor bill and make up for lost work time with her sick child. She was worn down.
I felt small for missing her. At least I wasn’t tired and lonely.
Although maybe Russell would be there when I collected Keith. I spent far too much time avoiding him while trying to catch a glimpse of him without being noticed.
I stepped off the sidewalk onto the drive leading to the only gas station on Main Street.
The other two were on the outskirts of town, the self-service kind of pumps.
Whereas this place? Full service, compliments of Annette’s husband, the owner.
Complete with the ding ding announcing the arrival of a new customer driving under the porte cochere.
Except that was a word I didn’t use anymore. Porte cochere. That was my grandmother’s word for a covered area in front of the entry.
As I waited for a vehicle to back out of the two-bay garage, Russell rolled out from under a Chevy Chevelle with a racing number five painted on the side.
He tugged his work gloves off and tucked them into a pocket of his coveralls. “What can I help you with, Winnie?”
“I’m here to pick up Keith for Libby.”
“Right, he’s inside with Granny in the back office.”
I should have thanked him and moved forward. But I didn’t. I just kept fanning my face, the heat growing inside me. “It was kind of your grandmother to watch him. Libby will want to know if he behaved.”
“He’s no trouble as long as you keep him busy.” Russell leaned a hip against the front quarter panel. “Granny had him work on his ABCs with the card catalog.”
As that heat built, I could no longer ignore the truth. I was totally turned on by this man. And that was dangerous to building my new life, especially so soon into the process. What if I let something slip?
“Thank you,” I said crisply and started through the garage toward the office in back. Just as I reached for the doorknob, an arm stretched in front of me, briefly landing his hand on mine. Russell.
I huffed my hair off my brow. It didn’t help.
Russell pulled his hand back. “Have I done something to offend you?”
Had I given him the impression I was avoiding him out of racism? I wasn’t even sure how to voice that thought but desperately wanted to make sure he knew that wasn’t the case.
So I turned to face him and rested my fingers lightly on his wrist. “Of course you haven’t offended me. I’m sorry if I gave that impression. I, uh, I want ...”
Again, I struggled with words to discuss a subject that had gone woefully unaddressed in my upbringing.
“Good. I’m glad.” He nodded with a slight smile that broadcast understanding and relief. “I wanted to clear the air since we’ll be living in the same town.”
“You’ve been absolutely mannerly,” I said, needing to be sure he truly heard me. “And the way you and your grandmother have helped Libby has been generous.”
Russell hung his head, a pulse throbbing in his forehead that echoed my racing heart. It was one of those precipice moments of life, where the air feels different, charged, just before everything changes.
Throwing back his shoulders, he met my gaze full on. “I’ve been helping her because it’s the only way I could find to see more of you.”
My jaw dropped, and my stomach did the same flip that happened on a roller coaster.
He held up a hand. “Not that I’m using her or her boy. Granny is the one watching him. I’ve just stuck around when he’s here.”
A half smile pushed through my confusion and, yes, the excitement because he’d noticed me. I’d been unseen for so very long. Even when screaming from the rooftops, nothing. Now, when hidden, he had noticed me. “That’s still using them a little bit.”
“Am I forgiven?”
There was something in his golden-brown eyes that hinted he understood that his grandmother was doing more than shelving books at the library.
Maybe he even helped in some way. But those words stayed unspoken.
It was a sacred part of the network. No link broken.
Nothing discussed without Annette’s approval.
Even Libby and I hadn’t shared our stories.
The one time I’d hinted to Annette ... she’d cut me off.
So I didn’t press him on that expression, but I took a sort of comfort in it all the same. If he understood my journey on some level, then that lessened the pressure of this attraction I felt. I wouldn’t have to explain the obstacles to him.
I allowed myself a little latitude. “What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up? Keith’s been looking forward to passing you tools. It’s all he talks about.”
“If you didn’t show, then I would still pitch in where needed,” he said without hesitation. “I’m not so heartless as to let down a little kid. Especially one who’s lost as much as Keith.”
My heart softened. All signs indicated he was a good man. “Then you’re forgiven.” I touched the hood of the car. “Tell me about this vehicle you’re working on.”
“It’s mine.”
Now that surprised me. “But ... it’s a race car.”
“It sure is,” he said with more love than I’d heard in most men’s voices when they spoke of their spouse.
“Grandpa kept her stored in the garage for me while I was in Vietnam. Now that I’m back, I’m giving her a tune-up.
I don’t just drive trucks for the paper mill.
I do a little dirt track racing as well.
And in between long hauls, I fill in when needed on pit crews for NASCAR.
I’m hoping for a permanent spot as a gateway to getting behind the wheel one day. ”
“NASCAR?”
“You look surprised.”
I didn’t know how to say what I was thinking. “It’s not an answer a person hears that often.”
“You mean it’s not an expected answer from a Black person,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s true there aren’t many Black NASCAR drivers. But it’s not unheard of. Elias Bowie back in 1955. Wendell Scott began in 1961 and has had hundreds of starts in the Grand National Series.”
“I’m sorry to have assumed.” And I meant the apology this time.
“You don’t know if you don’t ask.” Russell stroked the hood of the car with reverence, his hand skimming close to mine. “I’m following my dream.”
“I’d like to watch you race sometime.” The impulsive words fell out before I thought them through.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “How about Saturday? There’s a dirt track racing event. I can make sure you get the best seat in the house.”
Did I dare accept? I wanted to, and not just because the whole event sounded exciting.
But because I was drawn to Russell. From his handsome face to his calm, kind voice.
Not that I was by any means in a good place to act on the attraction, even if I had somehow managed to extricate myself from Phillip in a divorce.
I was still too ... broken. I needed time to heal.
And what then? How could I consider a relationship when I was still married?
Annette’s attorney friend had told me the answer wasn’t clear-cut as to how long it would take to be declared legally dead.
If I’d made the evidence appear overwhelming enough that I’d drowned and if Phillip pursued it aggressively, the process could be fairly quick.
However, the issue of my inheritance could slow it down.
All a nonanswer.
Annette had assured me she would do her best to find the information for whenever I might need it. Although the unspoken addendum to that? As long as finding out didn’t put the network at risk. It went without saying that she needed to ask questions with caution.
Which meant I was still in limbo. And if I never got the answer, I knew one thing for certain. I could take on that guilt for myself, but to let Russell become closer while unaware of my past ... That was a sin I wasn’t willing to commit.
“Russell, if you’re inviting me as a friend, then I accept.”
“Good. Very good.” He didn’t seem in the least deterred by the friend reference. “I’ll let Granny know you’re here for Keith.”
My head swirled with the implication of the discussion with Russell long after I’d walked away from the station, Keith’s little hand tucked in mine. In his other fist, he clutched a toy truck.
What did the world see as they watched us stroll past? Did we look just like the mothers and their children shopping on Main Street, others playing together in the front yard with a white picket fence?
I understood Keith wasn’t mine, but I felt like a very special aunt, closer than that even because of the way we’d come to Bent Oak. They say secrets don’t make friends, but in my opinion that wasn’t the case. Sometimes they make best friends, the necessary sort.
Keith looked like a regular kid with a Batman backpack. His brown hair was mussed like he needed it to be wet and combed back into place. He had a splatter of ketchup on his striped shirt.
Except he didn’t chatter like other children. Had his life experience robbed him of the chance to be a child?
I gave his sticky hand a squeeze. “What are you learning about in school?”
“Dinosaurs.” He kicked a stone along the sidewalk.
“Ah, I can see that now.” I pointed to a paper sticking out of his half-zipped bag. “That’s a very good drawing. Maybe I can help you finish coloring it when we get to the apartment?”
He shook his head. “I don’t need crayons. We don’t know what color they are. All they found was bones.”
“That’s a great point.” I wanted to keep him talking, to be a part of helping him open up. “I guess I just assumed they looked like green alligators and lizards.”
“What about chameleon lizards?”
“You’re a smart kid.”
“Not really. I just like learning about dinosaurs because it’s important.”
“We all have subjects in school that we enjoy more than others. That’s about finding your talent. I loved art. Maybe you’re going to be a scientist one day.”
“That’s not why I want to learn all I can about dinosaurs.”
“Why is that?” I asked as we turned off Main and onto Fourth Street.
“Because,” he said in a secretive voice, “I think that pterodactyls and dragons are the same thing.”
I thought it was a cute premise. “But dragons aren’t real, silly boy.”
He looked up at me with eyes so like his mother’s it stole the oxygen from the air. “Sure they are. Just sometimes the dragons pretend to be people.”