Playing by the Rules: A Novel (29 page)

Happier than a hummingbird feeding on a honeysuckle, Nana couldn’t stop thinking of reasons to celebrate. She was so excited about becoming a great-grandmother that she had a baby shower for Elvira five months in advance. On another occasion, she invited Sadie, Theola, and Vernelle to come over for tea and biscuits to mark the end of this year’s tomato competition. Then she arranged for another festivity with sun tea and cinnamon rolls to commemorate the completion of her club’s Dogwood quilt. She served pigs-in-blankets with beer when Clement finally beat Granddaddy in chess, and had a get-together when Louise and Medford officially decided to become a couple. Now Nana was preparing this afternoon’s cookout to celebrate Ruby Rose’s first piano recital. The plan was to have everyone over before the recital, then afterward go to the church to hear Ruby Rose play.

While Nana was in the kitchen, Granddaddy was in the backyard dashing lighter fluid on the coals, then striking a match to get the barbecue grill going. Using the juices that Nana had cooked when she boiled down the last of her tomatoes to make her special barbecue sauce, he basted the first round of chicken. When Billy and Elvira arrived, the first thing Nana did was cup her hands around her granddaughter’s belly and put her ear to her stomach to feel close to the unborn child. Feeling a poke, a jab, and a roll-over made Nana as pleased as a snowshoe hare in winter. The other thing that made her happy was seeing Louise and Medford together again. When they arrived, Nana hugged them both, then chastised Louise for not asking her man fast enough if he wanted a glass of lemonade or a can of cold beer. Then the guest of honor arrived with her brother, and everyone made Ruby
Rose the center of attention as if she were a homecoming queen riding on a float. When everyone else arrived, the cookout came to life.

The smell of smoked hickory and barbecue drove Ole Miss Johnson outside to her garden, pretending to check on the last of her tomatoes for the season. Wondering what all the commotion was about, she saw everyone making a fuss over Ruby Rose, who was chattering faster than a cricket moving its wings to make sure it was being heard. Ole Miss Johnson decided to stay outside a little longer; her plants needed watering and she didn’t mind getting some fresh air.

Nana saw Ole Miss Johnson from over the fence and decided to make her neighbor invisible. She had all the people she loved around her and she wasn’t going to let the sight of wickedness spoil Ruby Rose’s day.

“Ruby Rose, I’m so proud of you and looking forward to hearing you play later today,” Nana stated.

“Thank you, Ma’am. I’m getting so good at playing, Nana, that I hope Jeremiah will buy me my own piano soon,” she said loud enough for her brother to hear. “I’ve got the perfect place for it in the cottage.”

Granddaddy handed Ruby Rose a hot dog. Upon hearing her comment, his eyes got big and he looked at Nana, who knowingly glanced at Billy, and they all turned to Jeremiah. Billy had told his grandparents about Sheriff Taylor’s phone call and that he’d told Jeremiah it was best for him to leave Lemon City as soon as possible, but they guessed Jeremiah hadn’t told his sister, probably because he had sense enough to wait until after the recital.

“Pianos are expensive, dear,” Nana said. “It’ll be okay to keep using the one at the church, or for that matter, you’re welcome to use the one here. The main thing is that you keep practicing.” Nana went over to the grill to remove two well-done hamburgers
and two cooked ears of corn on the cob and put them on a plate for Elvira, handing it to her without asking, assuming she was hungry.

“I’m gonna need new sheet music,” said Ruby Rose, trying to get the ketchup out of the bottle to slide on her meat. “I want to learn how to play that song ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water.’ It’s got a piano in it.”

“That’s one of my favorite songs too,” chimed in Louise.

“I can’t buy you a piano, but I can get you sheet music,” added Medford, winking at Ruby Rose.

Ruby Rose liked seeing Medford and Louise as a couple again, which was nothing personal against Jeremiah. She just thought they looked better together and belonged that way. Even though she loved her brother, Medford had grown on her faster than weeds sprawling up along a country road, and she liked seeing him happy.

“Ruby Rose,” said Bootsie, sitting at the picnic table. “Let me take a look at your fingers, girl.”

Ruby Rose wiped the ketchup off her hands with a napkin and extended the cleaner one to Bootsie.

“Ooh, wee,” he squealed, admiring the long, narrow extensions. “You sure have got some pretty pie-ano-playing fingers. I betchu they move as fast as spider legs crawling up and down the keys.”

Ruby Rose laughed at the way Bootsie said the word “piano” as if there were some kind of pie made with a filling called “ano.” When she finished giggling, she thanked Bootsie for the compliment.

Clement asked Granddaddy, Bootsie, and Medford if they wanted to play poker. When Medford passed on playing to stay close to Louise because he still didn’t trust Jeremiah, Theola jumped at the opportunity to partner with Clement. She admitted
she didn’t know how to play poker, but she told Clement she was willing to learn. Clement adjusted his newsboy hat and looked at Theola like she was crazy, volunteering to play poker without knowing the first thing about the game. He had no interest in teaching a new student, but he didn’t know how to gracefully get out of the situation. He stared at Theola, with her silver streak that reminded him of a trail that a slug might leave behind on a tar-covered road, and decided she had a lot of nerve. Having no choice but to set up the card table, he took a deck from his back pocket and started explaining the rules.

Since Granddaddy was at the card table, Medford replaced him at the grill. He threw on the second round of corn and chicken and made sure the aluminum foil was sealed tightly over the casserole dish of molasses-soaked baked beans. Standing up, he had a better view over the fence, which enabled him to take a closer look at Ole Miss Johnson.

“How are things going along with the search for your mama?” Nana asked Medford, cutting into his thoughts.

Medford put the top on the grill and watched as the smoke escaped from the holes. “I’m getting closer and closer to learning the truth,” he replied.

“Whatcha finding out, Medford?” asked Vernelle. “Was there anything in the old newspapers or in the church files?” She had chewed all the sugar from her Chiclet gum, retrieved a tissue from her white purse, and discreetly removed the waste from her mouth. With one swift move, the gum was gone inside the paper and stuffed into her favorite receptacle. “Did you run into someone around here that could help? Did going to the Town Municipal Offices do any good?”

Medford thought Vernelle would run him down with her questions. “Nope, but I discovered the crate that I was delivered in tucked away in my dad’s basement and got a good look at it,
along with some clues.” Medford looked to see the reactions of anyone who was listening. Louise looked up from her potato salad; Vernelle didn’t appear to believe a word of it; Sadie seemed genuinely interested in Medford’s progress. Sitting at the card table, Granddaddy took a sip of beer, and Nana thought that any minute now, she would have a son-in-law to add to her list of new family members.

“I called the company that made the crates and they gave me the names of the folks in Lemon City who may have ordered them.”

“When was that?” asked Vernelle.

“Nineteen twenty-nine, the year I was born.”

“Um-hmm—the same year we had that lumber shortage, ‘cause of that brush fire in the forest, y’all remember that.”

Sadie shook her head, thinking about the fire that raged through the trees and scarred the face of the mountain.

“Who could forget it?” Granddaddy said, not expecting an answer. “Looked like someone had dropped a bomb in those hills with all that fire and smoke. If we was at war during that period of time, I’d swear the enemy had landed in our backyards.”

“That would explain it,” said Louise, trying to figure out the logic behind the purchase. “The reason for bypassing Rule Number Eight: ‘Do business at home first, then with Outsiders you can invite into your home, as a last resort,’ was because there were hardly any trees left in Lemon City. I remember y’all telling me about that.”

“Any of these names ring a bell? Brunson? Stewart? Butler?” asked Medford.

“Brunson and Stewart are distant relatives fourth or fifth removed, ain’t that right, Ernestine?” asked Granddaddy, trying to get his wife to confirm his memory.

Nana nodded her head, recollecting. “But Butler, now that’s Ole Miss Johnson’s maiden name.”

“Ole Miss Johnson?” Medford looked across the yard and over the fence at the old lady. “Now isn’t that a coincidence?”

As Medford examined the yard more closely, he noticed the crates she had used for packing her tomatoes for the Annual County Fair stacked high against her house. They looked like the same kind of crates everyone used every year, nothing special. The thought had never occurred to him, but he felt he should follow up on Nana’s neighbor as another possible lead worth exploring.

“That’s all I’m gonna say about it now. As soon as I find out, I’ll let y’all know.” He returned his focus to the grill and turned over the chicken so the other side could get a touch of crispy black, which was the way he liked it.

After the card game had turned into four rounds of poker and they’d all had several helpings of the afternoon’s barbecue, the sun started to lower itself behind the mountains, spreading its dusty glow of orange along the sky. Realizing it was almost five o’clock, they started cleaning up and putting away the food, getting ready to leave for Ruby Rose’s recital debut.

Judging by how slowly she puttered around her garden, Medford believed that Ole Miss Johnson was still outside thinking of things to do to justify her eavesdropping. Finally he got up the courage to be the first to share with her the biggest piece of gossip she’d ever heard, and to make the time spent in her garden all afternoon worth the wait. He considered he might be in violation of Rule Number Three: AIRING YOUR DIRTY LAUNDRY OUT IN THE STREET WILL SMELL UP THE NEIGHBORHOOD, but what he could possibly encounter would overturn any restrictions on odor. As a goodwill offering, he made the old lady a plate of barbecued chicken complete with side orders, covered it with aluminum foil, and brought it to the fence. He didn’t quite know how to ask her his question or introduce the notion that he might be her son, but now was as good a time as any.

Ole Miss Johnson saw Medford approaching with a plate of food and met him at the fence. He stared at the old lady as if he were looking at her for the first time, and she stared back, knowing there was more on his mind than just serving barbecued chicken. Now they were standing face to face. She expected him to hand over the plate, but he never let it leave his possession. There was something he had to say, she was certain of that, but it looked like the cat had caught his tongue and ripped out his vocal cords.

Medford felt his knees begin to shake. Cocking his head to the side to take a closer look, he examined Ole Miss Johnson’s profile as if her face were under a microscope. She followed his movement, wondering what he was staring at, curious about what he was looking for. He sized her up and down and she did the same with him. Her legs were long and her torso was short, just like his. Despite her height, her frame was thin, with not too much meat on her bones, and his would be too if he didn’t do the kind of physical work he did every day. Her cheekbones were high like his and when he peered closer to her face, for the first time, he noticed they shared the same nose. His hair was coarser than hers, more like Clement’s, and his skin was darker, more like Clement’s too, but there were enough signs to convince Medford it was more than coincidence. Then he saw a portion of the familiar-looking dark spot on her shoulder, which confirmed that his notion might not be as far-fetched as he’d originally thought.

“If you get any closer, you might as well take a sniff,” Ole Miss Johnson snapped. “Is what you got in your hands for me?” she added, tilting her head in the direction of the plate.

Medford slowly presented the food, all the while keeping his eyes on her face. “Sorry, Ole Miss Johnson,” he said. “Please excuse me for what I’m about to do.” And he pulled back the collar of her knit cardigan sweater, revealing her bare shoulder so he
could see if there was anything recognizable on her skin. She smacked his hand so hard he could still feel the sting, but not until after he found what he was looking for. The spot was on her right shoulder blade, the same place as his. There was a tiny dark birthmark in the shape of a kidney bean, and he pulled down his shirt collar so that he could show her his legacy.

“What the devil you doing? You ought to be ashamed of yourself putting your hands on me.” She shook her bony finger in his face. “I ought to scream right here and now … call the cops… and have you arrested… tell your daddy.” Ole Miss Johnson was working herself up to hysteria and opened her mouth to scream at the violation, but Medford said something that made her voice stop before it reached her throat.

“I think you’re my mother,” he said with a straight face, holding Ole Miss Johnson in his gaze, looking at her dead-on.

“What’d you say?” Ole Miss Johnson didn’t think she was hard of hearing, but there was a first time for everything and this could be the first day her ears decided to fail. She took her pinky and jiggled it around in her ear as if there were water in it.

Medford cleared his throat and repeated, “I said, I think you’re my mother.” He wished he had a glass of water—better yet, a shot of Johnny Walker Red—before he made the most important introduction of his life.

Ole Miss Johnson stood there with her plate in hand and almost dropped it. In a state of shock, her skin became pale as if her blood had suddenly decided to stop delivering to her vital organs. Then her breathing slowed down and she started sweating bullets. Despite looking faint, she began to squeak out a scream over and over again until she sounded like a broken siren that refused to quit, which was her way of yelling for help. Medford had lost his mind and she thought he might assault her again. Everyone who was walking in and out of Nana’s house, cleaning up after the
cookout, stopped what they were doing and turned their heads in her direction, curious about the racket. Medford desperately tried to calm her down, and was hoping the mother he had just found wasn’t on her way to having a stroke.