Peaches (21 page)

“Sorry!” Leeda started the car a second time, throwing it into first again, and this time pulling away with a jerk.

Birdie was saying it over and over again into her hand. “Please kill me.”

“Bird? Bird?” Murphy was now leaning over the back of her seat. “Don’t say that, Bird.”

Leeda couldn’t help looking in the rearview mirror as she squealed out of the parking lot. First at Birdie, still hiding in her hands. And then, in the background, at Enrico, standing in a cloud of dust, coughing, and looking as love struck as anyone she’d ever seen.

Thirty years after Georgia’s last devastating tropical storm, its landlocked acreage braced for another pounding from Mother Nature. Bridgewater’s stores taped Xs on their windows, and in an unprecedented maneuver, the twenty-four-hour Kuntry Kitchen closed its doors. Yellowbaby, an aging Volkswagen, whose radio was held together by a pair of tweezers, failed to report how serious things had become. Its driver, Murphy McGowen, tuned in once, but all she heard was salsa music.

“W
e should probably stop here for gas,” Murphy said, nodding to the gauge.

Leeda kept her eyes straight ahead on the road. “I can see for myself. And I don’t like Exxon. I like BP.”

“You think you can tell the difference between Exxon gas and BP gas?”

“I think I’m driving and therefore I get to pick where we get our gas.”

In the backseat, Birdie clenched and unclenched her teeth. She had used to think hell was being in a room full of people she didn’t know. But now she realized hell was actually being in a small car with Murphy and Leeda, two people she knew better than anyone.

“Hey, why don’t we go to Shell and split the difference,” she said tightly, as kindly as she could. She didn’t think what type of gas they put in Murphy’s clunker mattered much anyway; it drove like it was running on grape jelly.
This thing is a piece of lemon,
she thought. And then she wanted to cry.

Murphy shifted her feet along the dashboard. “Well, we’d better do it soon because you’re gonna run out of gas.”

“I get the concept of a gas gauge, thanks,” Leeda said airily. This made Murphy glare at her, then shake her head and laugh.

“What?” Leeda asked.

“Nothing. It’s just you’re funny, that’s all.”

A piece of tape had come undone from one of the holes in Murphy’s backseat and was sticking to Birdie’s thigh. Her hair kept getting in her eyes. She was beginning to think she knew what the inside of a volcano might feel like. She felt like something was going to explode out of her. It started as a rumble way down at the base of her gut.

“What do you mean?” Leeda snapped, obviously seething.

“You’re just so petty. It’s great.”

“
I’m
petty?”

Birdie clenched her fists against her thighs. But it didn’t stem the tide. She slammed one into the back of Murphy’s seat. “You’re both petty! You’re both the pettiest, most selfish people I ever met in my life!”

Murphy turned to goggle at her. The look of astonishment on her face made Birdie want to scream.

“All you think about is yourselves. You know what? I don’t care if you guys ever make up! Just leave me the hell out of it! I don’t need it from you.”

Birdie was breathing hard. Leeda had slowed to granny speed and shot nervous glances back at her.

“Birdie, I…”

“Murphy didn’t even kiss Rex back, you know. She told him off!”

Murphy whipped around in her seat. “Birdie!”

“And the thing is, she’s in love with him. And you’re not. He’s
just your crutch. And she still didn’t kiss him back. Because she loves you more.”

Birdie turned on Murphy now. “And you’re loyal enough not to hook up with her boyfriend but not loyal enough to put aside your pride and just explain. What a joke! You’re both a joke! And you’re sitting here seeing who can be more vindictive, not even noticing what the hell is going on with anyone else. God! You saw what just happened with Enrico, my parents are getting divorced, I’m losing my goddamn house, my dad’s moving God knows where, and if I go with him, I’ll probably never see you guys again. I can’t stand either of you!”

As Birdie finished, she swiped at where her hair had pasted into her eyes.

Leeda was driving very slowly and steadily. Murphy was still staring over the seat at her.

“I’m sorry, Birdie,” she finally said.

Birdie just peeled the tape off her thigh and looked out the window.

She didn’t say another word. She didn’t understand herself. She felt like a monster inside.

After that, the car was silent as a grave.

It had started to rain.

By the time they reached Bridgewater, it was pouring. Leeda leaned forward over the steering wheel of Yellowbaby like an old lady, trying to peer through the huge, relentless drops as they smacked the windshield. She didn’t want to make a wrong turn and give Murphy a reason to make fun of her, even though Murphy had been quietly staring straight ahead, her bare feet
clenched together and resting against the glove compartment.

Birdie was curled into a ball in the backseat, like a heroin addict going through withdrawal. Leeda could see her in the rearview, her big brown eyes staring out the window but not really focusing. They navigated their way to the back side of the orchard, driving slowly along the property line. The potholes in the road were filling and overflowing with rain, and the car shook and bobbed as it dipped into one and then another. Big leaves pasted themselves against the windshield, only to be crushed to either side by the wipers. They had just made it a few hundred yards when the car gave a gasp and then went silent, rolling to a complete stop.

“Crap,” Murphy said, not moving, not even shifting her gaze from straight ahead.

Leeda yanked it into park.

They sat for a few seconds, thinking. “Well, maybe we should wait out the storm a little and…”

Crack.

Birdie had thrown the car door open. In another moment she was up and out, running into the orchard.

Murphy and Leeda exchanged one dumbfounded look.

“Birdie!” Leeda called, throwing her door open and leaning over the top of the car. She was immediately drenched.

Murphy jumped out of the car too. “Where’s she going?” she yelled.

Leeda shook her head. She had a vision of Birdie jumping into the lake and never coming up. She wouldn’t do that, would she? She was just at a line of trees now. Leeda could see the back of her sopping T-shirt, and then she disappeared.

“Birdie?!” Murphy called. Then she started after her. “Wait up!”

They ran into the orchard, dodging bushes and trees. “Birdie!”

The wind was so strong it was actually pushing against them, making it hard to move fast. They came to the rise near the cider house, where there was a clear view of the farmhouse. But Birdie wasn’t headed in that direction. She had veered left and was advancing farther out into the trees.

“Birdie!”

Leeda felt a gust of wind so strong that she almost went tumbling backward. “Jesus.”

“Oh my God,” Murphy said, sending chills up Leeda’s spine. “Look.”

A cabana from the Balmeade Country Club was blowing across the field below, catching itself on a tree and flapping against it madly.

Murphy had her hands against her chest. “This is not good. This is a bad storm.”

They started running again, splitting apart but going in the general direction of Birdie. Leeda’s heart was in her throat. She’d never seen anything like it.

The ground was already sloshy and sludgy and she went sliding forward a few times, surfing mud slicks and righting herself. She couldn’t see Murphy anymore either. And then she spotted a giant lump on the ground up ahead.

“Birdie!” She flew down beside her. “Are you okay? Did you break something?”

Birdie was curled in a tight ball, crying.

Leeda surveyed her body, wincing because she was expecting to see something sticking out at a weird angle. Birdie just kept crying.

There was the thud of footsteps and then Murphy appeared at her side.

“Is she hurt? Are you hurt?” Birdie shook her head and Murphy sank down on her knees. “What’s wrong?”

Birdie uncurled from the ball and lay flat on her back. “I didn’t renew the insurance.”

Murphy and Leeda exchanged confused looks. “Birdie, this is a bad storm. We’ve gotta get inside.”

Birdie just kept crying.

Leeda didn’t know what else to do. She lay down beside Birdie and put her arm over her. “It’s okay. Come on, Bird.”

“C’mon.”

Birdie wouldn’t budge. Her hair was plastered to the sides of her face and her forehead and cheeks were smeared with mud.

Murphy leaned down close to her ear. “Bird, I bet if Enrico could see you right now, he’d dump that girl in a second.”

Leeda shot a death glare at her, then looked back at Birdie. She’d stopped crying, snuffling, anything. She was deathly silent. And then she started to laugh. And cry harder. And laugh.

“Nice,” Leeda said, rolling her eyes.

Together, she and Murphy hoisted Birdie up by her shoulders. She stood the rest of the way on her own, rubbing her face against her sleeve. They dragged through the grass, barely able to see, and slammed their way into the cider house, having to force the door closed behind them.

The storm sounded different from inside. Echoey.

Murphy peered around. “See, the perfect place to be during a hurricane. In a shoddily built shed full of sharp tools.”

Leeda shot another look at Murphy. But she knew she was
right. Only Murphy seemed amused. Maybe that was the only thing to be. About everything.

Birdie slumped against the wall, snuffling. Murphy and Leeda sidled next to her, Leeda holding her hand.

After a long while, when Birdie had quieted, Murphy asked, “Do you think if we stay in here, we’ll land in Oz?”

Birdie smiled a little.

Far off, a tree splintered with a loud crash.

“Well, it’ll save the Balmeades money on bulldozers,” Birdie said, sounding very Murphy. The girls laughed and then fell completely silent. They could hear the sound of metal cracking and more trees, big trees, breaking.

“Do you think we might die?” Leeda asked. Nobody answered. “Because in case we do, I think we should have one of those deep talks where we spill our guts to each other.”

Birdie and Murphy looked at her for a second. And then they burst out laughing, sort of desperately.

“You’re such a dork,” Birdie said.

Leeda felt herself blushing. “Shut up.”

They all fell silent again. From then on, they listened to the rain. Leeda knew they were all thinking about their families, their homes. But nobody said it. From time to time the shed shook. Outside, the wind was relentless.

And the rain sounded like it was washing the whole world away.

W
hen Birdie woke, the first thing she noticed was the tickle of Murphy’s hair resting against her leg. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she saw Leeda too, sleeping a few feet away with her arms crossed over her chest like a mummy.

Birdie hadn’t forgotten, even while she slept, about the storm. The weight of the world rested wholly at the bottom of her stomach as she extracted herself quietly from Murphy and walked to the door. Gray light was coming through the cracks. She blinked several times and put her hand to the handle. She took a deep shuddering breath, which got caught in her throat. Then she turned and knelt by Murphy.

“Murphy? Murphy?”

Murphy started and looked up, brushing the tiny curls out of her eyes and sitting up. “Yeah.” She looked around groggily, trying to orient herself.

“Will you go outside with me?”

Murphy’s expression shifted from sleepy to sympathetic instantly, her green eyes widening. “Sure, Bird,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”

Birdie stood back so that Murphy could open the door. When she did, the white-gray light filled the doorway, like something straight out of purgatory. Murphy stepped outside and disappeared. Birdie waited for her to say something, but there was only silence. “Murphy?”

“Oh my God.”

Birdie swallowed deeply and followed after her.

Murphy had climbed the hill beyond the cider house and was turning in a 360. Birdie scrabbled up after her, her feet slipping on the rain-soaked grass. Birdie had a view of the road first. The power lines lay all over it like dead snakes. A power
pole
and several trees lay crashed along it like dead bodies.

Then she turned toward the orchard and blinked.

“Oh…” she gasped.

She and Murphy looked at each other, their eyes huge, and then she peered back down at the view.

The orchard stretched out thick and green, its trees dripping and heavy, the grass churned up and muddy in several places, a few limbs lying here and there. But otherwise it hadn’t been touched.

It hadn’t been touched.

Birdie immediately burst into tears.

After a few seconds she felt Murphy’s arm around her shoulders, which shook with her sobs. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Murphy’s waist, leaning her head against her shoulder, her tear-drenched face sticking to her curls. Birdie inhaled a lock of hair and snorted, then pulled back and laughed. Murphy was looking at her and beaming.

“What’s going on?”

They both turned to see Leeda standing in the outline of the cider house door, looking pale and dirty and disheveled. “Are you okay?”

Murphy stiffened beside her, but it hardly registered. Birdie grinned from ear to ear.

“Come see.”

Leeda climbed to the top of the hill, standing on the other side of Birdie. “I can’t believe it.”

They stood there for several seconds.

“You wanna go home, Birdie?” Murphy asked.

“Oh yeah,” Birdie said. “Definitely.”

Poopie was on the front porch when they came straggling in, beside herself with worry and anger. But once she’d yelled at them and scowled at them and pounded her fist on the table a few times, she told them what had happened was a miracle.

On Poopie’s orders, Birdie called her mother while everyone gathered around the radio, listening to the reports. Power lines down everywhere. Homes destroyed. All of the pecan and peach orchards within three states had been ripped apart.

“Terrible,” Poopie kept saying in Spanish and English, shaking her head and clucking her tongue, her chin resting on her hands. And then, scattered between the
terrible
s, every once in a while she’d say something else. “But good for peach prices.”

Walter had already called to talk to Birdie, making sure she was all right and saying that he was in town, that nobody had been hurt, but that Bridgewater would have a lot of rebuilding to do. He was so caught up he didn’t yell at Birdie for her lies, which Birdie figured had quickly been uncovered once he and
Cynthia had communicated about the storm. The phone rang several other times, but they were all business calls, getting the word out that the Darlington peaches were still all right, that orders were pouring in, and that the grocery chains were practically knocking down doors in panic over the shortage of southern peaches, not only for whatever the Darlingtons had left in stock, but for next summer. Even if the other orchards planted right away, it would take at least two years for their trees to bear fruit.

Murphy had never been so happy for anyone else in her life, but she also felt like she wasn’t just happy for Birdie, but for the orchard itself. They were sitting around on the porch, finally exhausted and coming down from the huge high, when the sun peeked through the clouds.

Only Walter looked less than gleeful when he came through the door about half an hour later. But he looked less than miserable too.

Birdie jumped up and hugged him, chattering about how great it was, and wasn’t he excited, and could he believe it.

“It’s a good turn of luck,” Walter said seriously, nodding and rubbing his thumb against his index finger. “We may actually be out of debt when we sell.”

Every single person in the room froze. Birdie looked at her dad like he’d punched her in the stomach. Then she turned her eyes to Murphy and Leeda, as if they could do something. Murphy gave her a helpless look back.

“Well, I’d better get home,” Leeda said awkwardly, standing up, her body seeming tightly strung together, like it might snap. “My parents think I’m still in Texas.”

“You take my car,” Poopie said, very low and evenly. “You and Murphy. Bring it back tomorrow.”

Murphy didn’t think she had much of a choice since her car was still stranded back on the side of the road, so a few minutes later, after they’d each hugged Birdie tightly and wordlessly, she ducked into the passenger seat of Poopie’s car and sat tensely on the ride home, directing Leeda to turn this way, turn that. Mentally she dared Leeda to say something about her trailer when they pulled into Anthill Acres so that she could snap back. But Leeda kept her eyes coolly on the road in front of her.

“Well, thanks,” Murphy said, letting it come out colder than she’d intended.

“It’s no problem.” Leeda met her eyes once, briefly, and then Murphy shut the door and she pulled away.

Murphy’s mom’s car was in the driveway. Murphy climbed the stairs and stepped inside, noticing immediately that the trailer felt as stuffy and closed in as a hothouse.

“Mom?”

She walked through the kitchen into her mom’s bedroom and stopped. Jodee was curled up on the bed, used, balled-up tissues lying all around her. She looked tiny and delicate, like a teenager in her Bad Girl shorts and a little red tank top, her copper hair strung out in all directions.

Murphy sat on the bed and gently pushed her hair out of her face.

“Mom, I’m home.”

Jodee looked up and sniffled. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” Murphy said, stroking her forehead. “You feeling bad?”

Jodee curled up tighter into her ball. “Feeling stupid.” She
looked at Murphy. “I’m sorry, honey, I really thought it would work this time with him. I guess I need to grow up.”

She reached for Murphy’s hand, and Murphy took it, looking down at her fingers. “Mom, what happened to the seagulls?”

“I don’t like them anymore.”

Somehow this made Murphy sad.

She crawled behind her mom and curled up behind her, fitting against her body and wrapping her arm around her waist. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Jodee that she understood or that she empathized, but she hoped showing it was enough.

After a few minutes Jodee’s breathing went back to a slow rhythm. Murphy lay thinking about her in wonder. How did she do it? Open her heart up time and time again, when every time she ended up hurt? Murphy’s mom really was like a child. She didn’t have the fear that Murphy did. It wasn’t that she was stupid or blind, as Murphy had thought more than once. She was just hopeful. Naive. How did she manage to hold on to that?

There was something there that Murphy wasn’t strong enough to emulate. After all the thinking about other people as foolish, and fearful, and weak, Murphy knew what she had, in fact, always known. That it was she who was the coward.