Playing by the Rules: A Novel (18 page)

Medford got down on his knees beside the chair and looked Clement in the eyes. “Pops, I’m so grateful that the good fairy dropped me off on your doorstep instead of someone else’s.” He leaned over and hugged Clement’s small frame, which looked like it was in the middle of a cloud. “You know, finding my mother has nothing to do with the love that you gave me. It’s all about
me
trying to get answers to questions.”

“I know that, son. I hope you find what you’re looking for. If you don’t, just remember you’ve been living without knowing for this long. Sometimes having new information don’t make a difference.”

Ruby Rose didn’t like the idea of Jeremiah seeing Louise, and the feeling stayed with her like a bad rash on her skin. After weeks went by and she couldn’t figure out a practical joke to play on Louise, she finally came up with a prank to play on her grandmother. It was a mischievous way to show her dissatisfaction, but
she felt if other people didn’t have a problem being mean, she could take advantage of an opportunity to find out the benefits of evil for herself.

While Jeremiah was in the shower, Ruby Rose rummaged around the top shelf of the closet and finally found what she was looking for. Once she put her hands on it, she became afraid she might get caught and scurried back into the living room, pretending to watch
Soul Train
on TV. But now was the perfect time, she decided, to follow through with her plan.

She ran back to the closet, unzipped Jeremiah’s backpack, and opened the box with the “small bags of miracles.” It was a good thing she remembered the herb jumbo bush. If there were ever a time that Ruby Rose needed something to grow, it was now. She lifted each pouch to her nose until she found the one that smelled like stale swamp and black licorice. Unsure of how much of the herb was needed, she took the whole thing, then wrapped the pouch in aluminum foil and shoved it inside her pants pocket. Pleased with herself, she smirked at the fact she’d be around to see her little prank play out between the tomato-planting season and the Annual County Fair. Darting back to the living room, she sat down in front of the TV before Jeremiah came out of the shower so she’d look like she hadn’t budged.

“What are you doing today?” Jeremiah asked, emerging from the shower a few minutes later fully dressed, picking his wet hair. “Do you want to hang out with Louise and me? We may take a walk in the park, if it’s not too chilly.” He glanced out the window. “It looks pretty nice out today. Or we may play cards, backgammon, board games, or listen to music.” He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. “Want to come?”

“No thanks,” she said to Jeremiah. “I’ve got other things to do.”

“Like what?” He took a bite of the apple. “Your homework? You shouldn’t be inside watching TV all day.”

“I finished it. I’m going out soon.” Ruby Rose shrugged her shoulders, like she was bored. “I may take a walk along the creek in back of the cottage, or somethin’.”

“You be careful in those woods, you hear? If parts of the creek are frozen, it doesn’t mean the ice is safe,” Jeremiah warned. He slipped into his coat. “And don’t walk too far.” He put on his hat. “For all we know that creek could empty into the James.” He opened the door. “I won’t be out too late,” he added. “And if you get lonely, go up to Nana’s.”

“I will,” Ruby Rose said as Jeremiah turned his back, and she placed her finger in her mouth over her tongue like she was going to gag. But the truth was that wasn’t the destination she had in mind. She was planning to pay a visit to Ole Miss Johnson.

“Later,” Jeremiah said, as he closed the door.

Ruby Rose stared out the window after him until the GTO was completely out of sight. She took another look at the jumbo bush that she’d stuffed inside her pocket to make sure it was all there, then walked up Tuckahoe Road to Ole Miss Johnson’s house.

Ole Miss Johnson was surprised and happy to see the little girl standing at her door.

“Come on in, chile. Have a seat. Can I get you some chamomile tea or hot chocolate? How about a slice of blackberry walnut cake?”

“No, thanks, Ma’am. I’m fine.” Ruby Rose sat in the Queen Anne chair in a room that smelled like lemons, looking around the old lady’s house that was dark with old furniture.

Ole Miss Johnson sat down on the sofa across from Ruby Rose, not bothering with small talk, knowing the girl had a purpose for her visit and waiting for her to speak.

“I brought you something from my brother that I think you might find helpful,” Ruby Rose finally said, reaching into her pocket.

“He’s already helped my arthritis, and I’m eternally grateful to him. I’m getting back to being myself every day.” Ole Miss Johnson circled her wrists to show her new flexibility and mobility and squeezed her fingers together to make a gnarly fist.

“It’s not for your arthritis,” said Ruby Rose. She paused to make sure her host understood. “It’s for your garden and your tomatoes.” She handed the aluminum foil to the old lady.

“What’s this?” The smell was so overwhelming that before the girl even answered, she knew immediately what it was.

“Jumbo bush,” said Ruby Rose, pleased with herself.

“
Grobus benzoin
?” Ole Miss Johnson called out its Latin name as she carefully pulled back the foil and smelled the foul herb. “Black licorice, how sweet!”

“Jeremiah says it makes things grow, like a hormone. If it stimulates hair and nail growth; maybe it could make your tomatoes bigger too.”

Ruby Rose could see the thoughts begin to connect in the old lady’s head. “And you could win the competition at the Annual County Fair.”

“Yes indeed.” Ole Miss Johnson’s face brightened. “Make my tomatoes grow like they were incubating in super-duper fertilizer,” she said as if she were talking to herself, then she imagined wearing the red robe and leafy green crown that she would don when she became Tomato Queen for a Day. After seeing that image, her expression changed to suspicion as her daydream came to an end and she transitioned back to reality. “Why are you doing this, chile?”

“Because I like you… because you came to visit us,” Ruby Rose stammered.

“Are you sure that’s the reason?” Ole Miss Johnson gave the eagle eye that made Ruby Rose wiggle in her seat.

“Okay,” she blurted out. “Nana Dunlap isn’t doing anything about Louise seeing my brother and I don’t like that.”

“Louise is fine by me. She’s a good girl, but I understand your ambivalence about the other. Her grandmother is least desirable and undeserving of the title ‘Queen Tomato.’ That crown always has and always will belong to me as long as my fingers keep moving and my legs continue to take me where I need to go.” She stood up, clutching the aluminum foil to her sagging bosom as if she were hanging onto black gold. She beckoned the girl to follow her. “Come into the kitchen,” she invited. “I’ll make you a ham sandwich. I smoked a Taylor hickory last night. Have a cup of tea to refresh yourself, and a slice of blackberry walnut cake too.”

Ruby Rose reluctantly followed Ole Miss Johnson into the kitchen.

On her way back down Tuckahoe Road, before she even reached the cottage, Ruby Rose was feeling guilty about what she had done. She actually liked Nana Dunlap; she was just mad at Louise and felt like getting back at someone in the family. Thinking it would make her feel better to give the old lady an unfair advantage, Ruby Rose soon realized that it didn’t. In fact, she felt slightly worse. She didn’t think being mean suited her at all. Besides, Jeremiah was the one she should be mad at for leaving her alone, but she couldn’t be too upset with him, as he was all she had.

Ruby Rose would be returning to the cottage soon, and Jeremiah was rushing, trying to finish cooking dinner while listening to the six o’clock news. That’s when he heard the anniversary story of how a year ago to the day, March 28, 1973, the President had withdrawn the last of the troops from Vietnam. Jeremiah was glad
the country could put that war behind it. His mind flashed back to the unbearable jungle heat, the mosquitoes carrying malaria, the mortars lighting up the midnight sky, and the stench of death that his sense of smell would always hold onto like a deer tick grabbing onto skin. While the country was involved in the war abroad, there were struggles with the Civil Rights movement at home. Combat fatalities were staggering in ‘Nam, but there were also casualties for freedom fighters here. Seeing the battle-scene reminders from Cambodia and the protest marchers from Washington, D.C., got him stirred up all over again. He began to think about the returning vets and the tough transitions they underwent back to civilian life after all the sacrifices they had made. And that got him to reflect on his own future. Now that spring was just around the corner, he imagined the property in Plymouth would be ripe for the plowing and Dick Gregory would be settling into one of the houses on his four hundred acres of rich, fertile farmland—far away from any battlefield. He was excited about moving on and starting over, but with Louise in the picture and Ruby Rose enjoying Lemon City, things were becoming a bit more complex.

After lowering the heat underneath his pots, he returned to his seat to watch the rest of the news. He grabbed a Winston from his shirt pocket and lit it with a wooden match, then stared at the tip of burning ash as if it would help him put things in perspective.

The weather’s temperament began to change as the days got warmer and longer. Snowmelt turning into water cascading into trout-filled streams was the welcome sign of early spring. The warming of the mountains made way for blossoms to grow on trees like spuds sprouting on a potato. Hummingbirds, warblers, wrens, and yellow-bellied sapsuckers took over the air as wildflowers like bloodroot and chickweed emerged slowly from the waking soil. Spring began to spread over the barren range as trees became full, creating their canopy in lush shades of green depending on where the sun’s shadows fell and its rays struck the earth. Winter’s bareness was now being covered by a coat of color as a blanket of geraniums, catawba rhododendrons, flame azaleas, dogwoods, and mountain laurels began to reappear. The subtle sweetness that lingered was a signal to the Lemonites that the downpouring of the rains would soon come. When the sky finished its disruption and quieted down and the clouds got over their temper tantrums, the townspeople would break ground to begin planting for the Annual County Fair.

Everyone was bursting with anticipation, and in keeping with tradition, Nana and Ole Miss Johnson approached the competition like two chickens fighting for the same space in a henhouse.

Planting was the preoccupation of many Lemonites during this season. Tomatoes in particular were of interest to Nana and Ole Miss Johnson. Last year, Nana had planted Big Boys, Mountain Prides, and Jubilees, but now decided to change her strategy and add Champions to the list. The reason was obvious, her motive simple. If a Champion was what she wanted to be, then that’s what she needed to plant. Although she wasn’t a superstitious person, Nana wasn’t above cultivating all the luck she could get.

Nana went outside wearing a heavy knit cardigan and her brand-new garden tool belt strapped around her waist, with Saint trailing behind. Sitting on her stool, she sharpened her tools, then began using her rotary tiller to soften the earth. When that was done, she plunged her spade six to eight inches into the ground to begin the planting process. In between rows, she stood up to rest and wipe the sweat from her forehead. Sensing she had company in her yard besides Saint, she turned around to catch sight of her neighbor staring back at her over the picket fence.

“Morning, Lurleen,” said Nana.

“Morning, yourself,” replied Ole Miss Johnson, being careful how she moved her body so her ribs wouldn’t hurt and would continue to heal. “Whatcha doing there?”

“Don’t concern you,” said Nana to the dirt.

“Humph.” Ole Miss Johnson became indignant.

Saint poked her head through the picket fence and instinctively Ole Miss Johnson picked up a broom. Nana swore her neighbor straddled that broom at night and rode it across the moon against a black-lit sky. When she’d extended the courtesy to invite her to Christmas dinner several months ago they were civilized. But that was a while back, and now they were outside and
the circumstances were different. Everything they’d do between April and September would be about scrutinizing the other’s moves in order to win the crown at the Annual County Fair.

“Don’t you think about hurting my cat either, like you tried to do last year,” yelled Nana. “Unless you want me to come take a swat at you.” Remembering how badly Ole Miss Johnson treated Saint last summer, Nana wanted to get that off her chest early on to set her neighbor straight.

“Who you talking to, Ernestine?”

“Just want to make sure we have an understanding, that’s all…you old hag,” Nana mumbled under her breath.

“Who you calling a hag? I heard you.” Ole Miss Johnson sucked her teeth.

“I don’t want to start nothing, Lurleen.”

“Too late for that. You just wait and see. I ain’t gonna say nothin’ else. Let my tomatoes do all the talkin’ when they start speakin’ the language of ‘bigger and better than ever before.’ You’ll see that you’re just wasting your time.”