A Peach of a Pair Page 23

  A pang of grief sliced through my belly. We probably wouldn’t even be in Satsuma if Miss Emily hadn’t died. The feeling came as suddenly as it went; I stood ramrod straight, feeling the loss of her, but feeling something else. Her strength. Miss Emily knew the true value of sisterhood and what it felt like to suddenly be cut off from it. Yes. Somehow, someway, if Emily Eldridge were still alive, she would be here standing with me. Maybe she was.

  I helped Lurleen up the steps and opened the door to my home. My eyes went straight to my piano. It was like seeing a long-lost friend. I went to it immediately, ran my fingers over the keys, but not enough to make them sing. “Will you play for me later?” Lurleen asked, smiling. I nodded. “And when we get home, I want to have someone come out to the house and tune Teddy’s piano. I suspect the person my mother used is long since dead. We might have to have someone come from Columbia.”

  “I’d like that very much,” I said, “and of course I will play for you after dinner.”

  I never realized how small our house was, but after living in the Eldridges’ rambling home, it felt tiny. Mother loved the ornate, which explains why my father never liked to sit in the living room. There was a mishmash of fancy, spindly secondhand furniture and an inordinate number of lace doilies Nana had crocheted. Too many family pictures were jammed about the mantel, the telephone table. My life in black and white, from birth until this past Christmas. The picture of Brooks and me opening presents was missing.

  “Is that you?” Lurleen pointed to a skinny girl with pigtails sitting in the crook of a pecan tree.

  While the bulk of our family income came from oranges, Daddy also grew pecans, corn, sometimes cotton. He’d tried his hand at cattle, but didn’t have the knack for them. I nodded and showed her another photograph just like the other one, only it was me and Sissy in that same tree. Daddy had fussed at us because pecan trees are not the best climbing trees, and he’d had to climb up after us to get us down on more than one occasion.

  There were three times as many pictures of Sissy as there were of me. Brooks was in a couple of them with her, stoic smile or no smile at all. “I’m really having a problem with this.” Lurleen gestured at my family history.

  “There were plenty of pictures of me before—” It suddenly occurred to me that Sissy must be every bit as confused as I was. Of course it wasn’t easy for her to see years and years of pictures with me and Brooks, maybe even painful. “It really doesn’t matter anymore,” I said, and it didn’t. I would have a new history going forward, one without Brooks Carver. I would have a niece or a nephew to love, and I would have Lurleen and Katie, Dean Kerrigan and Sue, a horde of C-Square sisters. And I would have Remmy. “It’s fine, Lurleen.” I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I’m fine.”

  Lurleen sat at the kitchen table while Sissy, Mother, and I bustled around the kitchen like old times. At least the bustling part was. Sissy still wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Didn’t breathe a word.

  She’d pulled her hair back and changed out of her work clothes and into a pair of denim pedal pushers and a pink top that made her eyes a beautiful cornflower blue. My eyes went immediately to her belly. It was as flat as ever, but she was four months at the most and wouldn’t start showing for a while.

  What would it be like to see her swollen, huge with Brooks’s child? He was so tall and she wasn’t even five feet. Would her belly grow so big that she’d fall over if she wasn’t careful? Brooks was a big guy, and he had a big albeit beautiful head, which was likely hereditary. Poor Sissy would have to push that out of her—

  Hands on her hips, Sissy cleared her throat, jerking my attention to her face. I gave her a wan smile and shrugged before getting back to the business of dinner. Soon all of the bowls and platters were assembled on the outdoor table. Mama had brought out her best china in honor of Miss Lurleen. Or maybe she had it out for the impending wedding.

  Everyone had always had a specific place at this table, even Brooks, only Sissy was sitting in my place. There were always two places set at one end of the massive table where Daddy and Uncle Doak sat side by side. Doak’s wife, Madge, was to his left; Mother sat to the right of Daddy, of course; Nana was beside her. I helped Lurleen onto the bench seat and sat down sandwiched between her and Charlie.

  While Daddy said grace, I could feel Brooks’s eyes on me, but I refused to look at him.

  “Amen,” Daddy said, helping his plate to the gracious spread. “Hungry.”

  Bowls of vegetables Sissy and I had put up last summer were passed around, black-eyed peas, butter beans, okra. Mama had sectioned the meatloaf into portions before Lurleen and I arrived, then cut one of the pieces into two very small servings. I helped my plate to the smaller one, and Lurleen took the other before passing the plate to Charlie, who looked awfully grateful that someone had taken the smallest piece besides him.

  Stone-faced, Brooks whispered something to Sissy. She hadn’t touched her plate. She shook her head, keeping her eyes on the table. I could feel her anguish in my bones, but before I could say anything, Mother piped up. “Eat, Sissy. You have to take care of yourself.” No mention of the baby, just a glance in my direction to show she was being considerate.

  Brooks nodded. I’d seen that frustrated look on his face before. When he didn’t want me to go away to college. After Christmas break when he put me on the bus to go back to Columbia. Sissy chewed in slow motion, barely eating anything. Probably wishing for our normal dinner banter over who would wash and who would dry, instead of what was to come.

  After dinner, the men went back out to the truck. Brooks gave me a hard look and then joined them. There was a flurry of activity taking plates and bowls, platters and glasses to our kitchen to be washed. While Mother, Sissy, and I cleaned up, Lurleen sat at the kitchen table with my aunts. Aunt Madge was always a stitch and could tell a story like nobody’s business; she started telling tales about my homeplace, my family. Me.

  Still not saying a word, Sissy kept washing dishes, dipping them in the rinse tub and then handing them to me to dry. I leaned over and whispered in her ear and waited. “Skunk.”

  She said nothing, just handed me another dinner plate.

  “Skunk,” I whispered again, almost giggling to draw her into the game we’d played for as long as I could remember. When she didn’t answer back, I nudged her elbow and answered for her. “Possum.”

  She hung her head as the world we knew carried on about us, in spite of us. Her shoulders shook. “Don’t cry,” I whispered. “Please don’t cry, Sissy.”

  “Could you”—she swallowed hard, still not looking at me—“please take the scraps out to the animals?”

  She plunged her hand into the water, hissed, and jerked it out. A tiny angry line dripped blood, making me want to cry. While absolutely nothing about this scenario was like it had always been before, and nothing between Sissy and me might ever be the same ever again, the fact that she always forgot and put the butcher knife in the soapy water made my heart soar.

  “Please.” She didn’t look at me, just fished around and pulled out the offending knife before shoving her hands back in the water. “Just go.”

  I nodded and excused myself with the scrap bucket. “Will you be long?” Lurleen asked. “I’m really looking forward to hearing you play, but I’m very tired.”

  “I’ll just be a moment,” I said and hurried out to the barn.

  The barnyard glowed in the full moonlight. Toby and Mack, Lacy and Pete, Daddy and Uncle Doak’s bird dogs were thrilled to see the slop bucket, and me, I’d like to think. The barn cats materialized out of nowhere with their new kittens in tow, politely weaving in and out of my legs to say thank you for their supper. As I scratched one of the tiny ones on the head, I felt a familiar pair of hands on my hips. I wheeled around, accidentally knocking over the empty bucket.

  “Shhh,” Brooks said, towering over me. Dark eyes looking into mine.

 
; I jerked out of his grip and pushed him away as hard as I could. “Don’t you touch me.”

  “Nettie, honey—” He reached for me and I shoved him away.

  “And don’t you honey me,” I bit out. “If I didn’t love my sister so much, I would have spit in your eye at the supper table.”

  “What about me?” he asked. “Don’t you still love me because I love—”

  The crack of my hand meeting his face was deafening, although no one besides Brooks and me seemed to be aware of it. I could hear Daddy and Uncle Doak laughing about something over by the shed where they’d been working on the truck, the soft clatter of Sissy finishing up the dishes in the kitchen.

  “I deserved that, Nettie.” He moved toward me, but I stepped back, almost tripping on one of the hounds. “And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry, but I don’t want this, this wedding. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

  “You should have thought about that before you took Sissy’s virtue.” His head snapped back like I’d slapped him again. He was either an idiot for thinking I hadn’t known she was a virgin, or an imbecile for thinking I didn’t know everything about my own sister. “Sissy is young and impressionable and even you remarked at how she’d always followed you around like a puppy since she was little. She may or may not have known what she was doing, but you are almost four years older than her, Brooks. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

  “Please, Nettie, hear me out. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” He reached for me, but I crossed my arms over my chest. He put his hands up in surrender and looked into my eyes.

  “Okay. Okay. Just hear me out,” he said. “God, if I could take back that one moment, that one time, I would. But it happened and she got pregnant and everything just spun out of control. I don’t want to marry her, I want to marry you. Now.”

  My head was dizzy with his words. Throbbing. “You have lost your mind.”

  “No, Nettie, we can run away together. Live anywhere you want.” He had closed the distance between us and was towering over me in a way that used to make me feel special. Safe. “I love you so much, Nettie. Please say yes.”

  A cold chill slithered down my body. He’d said those exact same words the night he’d proposed to me. He mistook my trembling for weakness, but anger was rioting through my body, shaking it to the core.

  “Grow up, Brooks,” I spat.

  His brow creased like I was speaking a dead language. “What did you say to me?”

  “Grow the hell up. You give my sister your name. You buck up and be the best goddamn husband and father in the world or I swear to God, I will come back to Satsuma and castrate you with a chicken’s beak.”

  “But Nettie, you love me,” he choked out. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Try me,” I growled, snatching up the bucket and heading back inside.

  Sissy glanced up when I opened the screen door and then quickly back down at the dirty dishwater in the sink. I took my place beside her, still trembling, gutted for her but grateful she hadn’t heard a word Brooks had said to me.

  Plain and simple, he didn’t deserve Sissy, but Remmy was right, the world isn’t kind to women who have babies out of wedlock. And even though every soul in town knew Sissy, things would be no better for her. She had no choice; she’d have to marry Brooks. Not to mention what Mother would do if Sissy called off the wedding. And if Brooks dumped Sissy, she’d be marked for life as the girl who got knocked up.

  “Oh, Sissy,” I whispered and plunged my hand into the water to hold hers. Head still down, she looked at our clasped hands and nudged my hip ever so slightly. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Possum.”

  29

  LURLEEN

  The morning sun streamed through the lace curtains. Lurleen was beyond tired. She felt the full brunt of the trip Remmy had warned would kill her but had taken Emily’s life instead. Sister’s body was lying, hopefully in a lovely blue casket back in Biloxi, waiting for Lurleen to take her home. While Lurleen still felt the pull that always draws sisters together, even after one or maybe even both have gone to the grave, it felt right to be here with Nettie.

  She’d played beautifully last night. The strains of Chopin, Strauss, Bach in the middle of an orange grove, and while Lurleen had wanted to jerk a knot in Sissy’s rear end for what she did to Nettie, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the child. As Nettie played the piano for the whole lot of them, her sister sat next to a man who obviously did not love her; his hand clasped hers in obligation. And the girl knew this. Why, even a stranger like Lurleen could see it was eating that poor child from the inside out.

  Some rumbling in the kitchen prompted Lurleen to stir. Most likely that Helen, whom Lurleen hoped she’d put the fear of God’s ire in or at the very least, the fear of the Eldridge ire. Lurleen eased her rickety old body out of bed and dressed. So many aches and pains. She was looking forward to getting her new body. Seeing her family, and of course Emily, who was probably flirting with all the handsome angels and holding court while she waited on Lurleen to join her.

  Her door opened and Nettie’s sweet face appeared. “You’re up.” She smiled.

  “And surprisingly hungry,” Lurleen said, which made Nettie’s smile widen and Lurleen feel a little guilty. She’d gotten so attached to the girl. The same for Nettie, and Lurleen worried if her passing would be hard on her because she hadn’t lied to Helen or told her anything she didn’t already know. Nettie Gilbert knew how to love, how to make you feel loved. It was a gift that Brooks boy had obviously squandered, and you could see the cost on his face. It was a gift Lurleen would treasure long into eternity.

  “It’s nice out this morning. Mother will serve breakfast at the outside table. There’s a bench between the roses and the gardenias, if you’d like to sit before we eat,” Nettie said. “I’m going to help out in the kitchen. Mother said Sissy’s taking the day off, I’ll talk to her after breakfast, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  “That would be lovely, dear,” Lurleen said. She barely got the words out and plopped back down on the bed.

  Nettie rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. This trip has taken far more from me than I’d thought it would.”

  “You rest. I’ll come get you when breakfast is ready, and we’ll leave right after we eat,” Nettie said.

  “Has your sister spoken to you at all?” Lurleen asked.

  “Not really, she said something last night. One word. Our word. But it’s a start. Even if she doesn’t talk to me now, I know we’re going to be okay.” A sad smile crossed her lips. “You gave me that, and I’m so grateful.”

  NETTIE

  I hurried over to my house. The kitchen was already a flurry of activity. I jumped into the familiar dance of getting a meal ready for two hungry men, two growing boys, and a handful of women. Everything was almost ready when I asked mother if I could make a phone call.

  “Why, Nettie Jean, you’ve never asked to use that telephone in your life,” she said, hauling a tray of big fluffy biscuits out of the oven. “Sissy, stir that gravy. If it sticks it’ll be a mess.”

  “It’s long distance.” Sissy looked up at me and then back at the pan.

  “All right,” Mother said, “but don’t talk long.”

  I called Remmy’s home and prayed Katie didn’t answer. While she’d given me her blessing when I’d called the office the other day, I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about my calling their home so early in the morning.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Remmy. I’m glad it’s you who answered.”

  “And I’m glad it’s you too. Feels like it’s been years since we last talked.”

  “Nope. Just a little over a day.”

  “How’s Miss Lurleen holding up?”

  “Surprisingly well. Things might be different when we get back to Biloxi
and take the train home, but right now, it’s kind of like Miss Emily is still with us.”

  “She probably is.” His laugh was soft and warmed me from the inside out. “She was always stubborn; if she didn’t want to go to heaven, not even God himself could make her until she was good and ready.”

  “Lurleen’s really tired; that worries me.”

  “That’s understandable,” he said. “So, now you’re on a first-name basis? I’ve known the sisters my whole life and have never had that honor.”

  “She’s insisted. I think she believes I earned the privilege.”

  “I’m sure you did. How are you doing? Did you see him?”

  “Brooks? Yes, I saw him last night. He wanted me to run away with him,” I whispered into the phone, even though everyone was well out of earshot. “The idiot.”

  “You aren’t calling me from some exotic locale, are you?” he teased.

  “If you can call Satsuma exotic, then yes.”

  “I can’t blame the guy for trying, but I feel sorry for your sister. Are the nuptials still on?”

  “It seems so. As bad as I feel for Sissy, I can’t stay for the wedding. I won’t.”

  There was a long silence. “Because you still have feelings for him?”

  “Because I wouldn’t be able to stand idly by and watch that idiot marry my sister.”

  “That’s a relief,” Remmy said.

  “You didn’t think that I still—”

  “I’m a guy, Nettie. We’re not the smartest creatures on the planet when it comes to women.”

  “Until last night I didn’t realize just how stupid you all could be.”

  “Never thought I’d be defending Brooks, but it’s not entirely his fault; there’s some kind of veil that goes up between your world and mine; happens when a boy hits puberty. That’s why men are clueless about the fairer sex; that’s why talking to you every day, I learn something.”