Girls Like Us (18 page)

It was the judge’s wife. What could Lizabeth be thinking? She couldn’t let Biddy meet this woman.

Quincy come in from the dining room toting the silver tea set. She hardly got the tray to the table in one piece, she was shaking so hard.

“Biddy, you got to listen to me. . . .”

“Biddy,” Miss Lizzy called from the living room. “Could you come in here, please?”

Quincy grabbed hold of my arm. “Don’t go. I’ll tell you why later. Don’t go in there.”

“Quincy, what you so scaredy of ? Who’s in there?”

“It’s the judge’s wife, and I’ll tell you why you don’t want to meet her back at our ’partment, but . . .”

I patted Quincy’s hand just like Miss Lizzy does me. “Don’t worry your head, Quincy. I know ’bout the Mrs. Judge.”

“No,” Quincy said. “You don’t.”

“You know what my granny said to me after I had my baby?”

Quincy stared at me.

“She said, ‘The rich gets richer and the poor gets children and sometimes the rich gets the poor’s children.’”

“But . . .”

I hushed Quincy. “Granny said that when we was in the store. Mrs. Judge was pushing a pretty little blue-eyed baby in a stroller.”

Quincy let go my arm. “I still don’t think you should oughta go in there. That woman ain’t here to make some poor girl’s dream come true.”

I smiled at Quincy. “You don’t know my dream.”

I grab holt of Biddy’s hand. “I ain’t letting you go in there alone.”

Biddy squeeze my hand and smile. It didn’t light her face none at all. She was scared no matter how brave she talk.

We walk through the dining room and into the living room. Lizabeth and the judge’s wife set in big chairs and they talk in low voices that didn’t sound friendly. Lizabeth look mad around her mouth and scared in her eyes and sad in the way she set in the chair.

She look away from her important visitor and hitch up her spine.

“Biddy, please, sit down. Quincy, I would consider it a favor if you would fix the tea.”

Biddy sat on the divan and I plunk myself right down next to her. “I ain’t leavin’ Biddy here by her ownself.”

Lizabeth all but roll her eyes. “Quincy, we’re not going to boil the girl in a pot.”

“Let her stay, Elizabeth. I don’t want tea.” The judge’s wife look at Biddy and I could see her bottom lip kinda straighten out, like she caught a whiff of cauliflower.

“Biddy, I’m sure you are a very nice girl. But Elizabeth is confused about a few things and I want to set them straight.”

That woman’s mouth might say “nice,” but her voice didn’t.

“Janice, stop right now.” Lizabeth stood up.

“You wanted us to talk, so I’m talking,” the woman said.

Lizabeth looked frantic. “Biddy, I know I asked you to come in here, but I’m asking you to leave now. I need to speak to my friend alone for a moment.”

“No, you don’t, Elizabeth. You opened this can of worms. Now I’m closing it,” the judge’s wife say.

Elizabeth look all scared in her face. “Biddy, I’m asking you again to leave. Janice, this girl knows nothing about anything. I just wanted you to meet her.”

“Ridiculous. You’re making trouble, Elizabeth.” The judge’s wife turned and faced Biddy.

“Elizabeth seems to think that since you had a child at about the same time my husband and I adopted one that . . .” She stop talking. And flick a look at Lizabeth that could have set grass on fire. “Elizabeth thinks that I adopted your baby.”

Biddy didn’t say nothing.

“Well, that’s not the case.” I saw the judge’s wife’s bottom lip get a wiggle in it, and I knew for sure she was lying. I also knew for sure that she was covering up scared with mean.

Biddy say, “I know.”

“You know?” I jerk Biddy’s hand. “What kind of fool talk is that? That baby is yours and I know it.”

“Dear girl, you don’t know a thing,” the judge’s wife say. She try to stare me down, but that woman and me — we knew how each other’s insides work.

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know. I heard my foster folk talk about this five years ago.”

“What could your foster parents know about me?” The scared was out there to see now.

“My foster mother was a lawyer woman for the ACLU. She tole her husband about a judge that sign papers that let a retarded girl’s grandmother say the girl was . . . I don’t know, something about not being smart enough to decide things for her ownself. She say the judge sign the papers because him and his wife wanted to adopt the baby.”

The woman look at me like I just slap her ’crosst the face.

“And I ain’t your ‘dear girl,’ neither,” I say.

“Janice,” Lizabeth say as she sat back down. She put her hands to the sides of her head and rubbed like she was tired. “This is a small town. And this is the worst-kept secret in it. My husband was the mayor. You don’t think he knew what a judge was doing? You don’t think nurses tell stories? You don’t think people that work for Child Protective Services don’t know how this adoption was managed? Your child will hear it soon enough.”

The judge’s wife stand and smooth out her skirt. “No, she won’t. Because none of this is true.” She look at Biddy and talk slow with her words all apart like Biddy was deaf. “My baby was born in Russia. I flew there to get her. I’m sorry about your child, but I’m sure it has a better home than a girl with your . . . problems could give her. Lily is
not
your child. Do not think that. Do not tell anyone she is. Do not come near my child, my home, or me. Do you understand?”

Biddy nod.

“Biddy,” I say, real loud.

“Hush, Quincy,” Biddy say. “Everything is OK.”

“Janice,” Lizabeth say, “I didn’t want you two to meet so that Biddy could take your child or bother you.” She turned to Biddy. “And, Biddy, I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories for you. I didn’t think that you knew . . .” Her voice trail off, and she look at the judge’s wife again. “I just didn’t know what else to do. This whole affair is a disgrace. I guess what I really wanted was to assure you that Biddy is a lovely girl. To encourage you to let her into your life a bit, and yes, maybe to shame you into letting her see her baby. And since the cat is out of the bag, I think the least you can do is to assure her that her child is loved and protected.”

Biddy smiled a faraway kinda smile then. “Miss Lizzy, that’s just what the Mrs. Judge did.” She stand up and let loose my hand. “Good-bye, Mrs. Judge. I know your baby ain’t mine.” And she walk out. Her back straight as a princess.

The judge’s wife drop into her chair. She cover up her eyes with her hands. “Elizabeth, how could you do this? The last thing I wanted was to be cruel to that girl.”

Lizabeth teared up too. “I never meant that to happen. I’m a meddling old fool.” She wiped her eyes with her hanky. “I thought if you met her and knew she would never want to take Lily . . . that you might bring the child here and allow Biddy to see her maybe just once. Just one time.” Lizabeth’s eyes seemed to go far away when she say that, and her voice got all tight. “Maybe someday you’d feel safe enough to tell her that the child was hers.”

I left them talking and went to Biddy. She was cutting cake.

“I’m thinking about going in there and setting that woman’s hair on fire,” I say.

“Quincy, the Mrs. Judge was just being a good Mama Duck.”

Mrs. Judge thought I wanted my baby back. Who knows? If I was smart enough to know how, maybe I might of tried. All I know is that baby belongs to her now. She’ll never leave her. That makes me feel real good. But I still wish I could ever have held her. Sung her a song.

I wish Miss Lizzy hadn’t never made us meet. The way it was, I could make believe that my baby’s mother might like me. It’s like if you get one thing, you gotta lose something else. I know my baby’s new mama loves her. But it hurts me down deep to know Mrs. Judge thinks I’m trash.

Her name is Lily.

I slap the tea tray down without saying boo or squat and left them women to fend for they ownselfs. I went to see after Biddy.

I found her in her room, digging in a little box like a squirrel looking for nuts.

“What you up to?”

Biddy turnt ’round and she helt a handful of tapes. “I’m gonna throw these away.”

“Why?”

“I made ’em so my baby could have remembery. But she got her own remembery. Mine will make her feel bad.”

I husht because I could see Biddy had her head set. I trail after her to the kitchen. She open the cabinet under the sink and helt the tapes over the trash can. I could see it hard to let her words be garbage. But she jerk her hand open and the tapes slide in.

Biddy went to her room and I wait till she close her door, and I snatch them tapes out the trash. Who knows? That little ole baby gonna know she didn’t come from Russia when she can’t talk no Russia talk. And she might want to know where she did come from. Shoot-a-goose, you never know what could happen tomorrow — much less a long time from tomorrow.

I needed to take me another long hot shower. It had been a bad day, and bad days made thoughts of Robert crowd in on me.

Biddy done quit making her tapes. Said she don’t have no reason to make ’em. I don’t talk on my tape every night like I used to, just sometimes. Biddy walk to the Brown Cow and back with me every day and we talk. We talk about Lizabeth apologizin’ to Biddy for “ambushin’” her. Biddy tell Lizabeth that she know she just doin’ what she thought best. I stayed some mad at Lizabeth for a while but easied down when I saw that Biddy was OK.