Shoofly Pie & Chop Shop (18 page)

“So what do we do now,” she asked glumly, “just sit around and wait for a bunch of bugs to grow up?”

“I’m not very good at sitting around. That’s what I’ve got Teddy for. He checks the pupae every hour, and he’ll contact us the moment the adult flies begin to emerge. Our time can be better spent asking some more questions. But essentially, yes—we just sit around and wait for a bunch of bugs to grow up.”

“Then it all comes down to the flies.”

“In my business, Mrs. Guilford, it always comes down to the flies.”

Kathryn stared at the ceiling fan that turned slowly and rhythmically above her, slicing a hole through the thick night air. She lay heavy and still, feeling the throb of exhaustion in every limb. She had dropped her things at the front door and headed directly for the bedroom, not even pausing to turn on the lights or check her messages. Why bother? The flashing red light told her there were four, and they would all be from the bank: Margaret wanting to know the whereabouts of some elusive file or Robert John asking exactly how many days she was taking off—though she had told him a half-dozen times—or Anna asking if she could just take a few minutes to review the so-and-so account.

She sprawled on top of the covers exactly as she first lay down,
her entire body begging her to just stop moving. And so she lay, feeling the warm woolen blanket of sleep begin to creep up over her, mesmerized by the spinning blades above, spinning around the bright brass hub that gleamed each time it caught the headlights of a passing car through the window. It gleamed and then darkened and then gleamed again. On … and off … and on.

Kathryn saw herself swing open the screen door and step out onto the porch on a sultry July night almost ten years past. She instinctively banged her fist on the wall below the yellow porch light, which responded by flickering on and then off and then on again.

“When are we gonna fix this thing, Momma?” she called back into the house. Behind her she could hear the sound of
Matlock
on the television and the soft hissing sighs of the steam iron.

“Why don’t you get one of those boys of yours to fix it?” her mother called back. “Maybe they’re not smart enough.”

“They’re smart enough, all right.”

“Maybe they don’t want that bright ol’ porch light shinin’ all the time. Maybe they don’t mind a little dark out there on the porch. Maybe they’re too smart to fix it.”

“If they’re so smart, how come they’re all three leaving me alone on a Saturday night?” She flopped down on the porch swing and sulked, watching the ailing porch light as it periodically flickered off and then on.

“Where have those boys been to lately? You think they found themselves a couple of Fayetteville sweethearts what stole their hearts away?”

“Stop it, Momma. Andy says things have been hoppin’ at the Fort ever since those Iraqi boys marched into Kuwait. He says the Airborne might have to go over there and take care of it. They could get called up any day now.”

“I sure hope not.”

“They might could. Andy says he wants to go. Says it might speed up his commission.”

“I don’t like to hear that,” her momma said. “I don’t like to hear that one bit.”

The screen door opened slowly, and Kathryn’s mother stepped out, pulling an afghan tight around her shoulders. She never
seemed to step outside without a covering, even on a muggy summer night. “It’s the night air,” she would always say. She looked older than her forty-five years, and she walked thickly and heavily as if she had physically carried the burden of raising a daughter alone for a decade. She sat down on the porch swing beside Kathryn and began to gently stroke her long, auburn hair.

“You got your daddy’s hair,” she said, smiling, “and his eyes, too. Thank the Lord, he took those ears of his to the grave.” They both laughed.

“Your daddy and I got married just out of high school. Seems like most everybody did back then—that was June of ’63. Just a year later his number came up, and he was off to Vietnam. I was worried sick, but he said not to go on about it. They was gonna make short work of it; they was gonna march right up the Ho Chi Minh Trail to China, and he’d be back before I even knew he was gone.” She stared vacantly into the darkness as she spoke. “I knew he was gone all right. I was worried sick for three years.”

“Andy says we got them outgunned and outmanned and outsmarted. We got the whole United Nations on our side! Andy says it’s not like Vietnam.”

Her mother smiled and studied her eyes. “Andy says this and Andy says that! How come it’s never ‘Jimmy says’ or ‘Peter says’ anymore?”

Kathryn grinned and bent forward, flipping her hair up over her head, then straightened again and tossed it back. Her mother leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then stiffly rose, creaking and groaning like the weathered floorboards beneath her feet. She paused at the door and gave the porch light another thump.

On, then off and on, then off again.

“You be smart,” her mother said from the darkness. “Most girls don’t get to choose.”

Kathryn sat rocking in the quiet blackness, pondering her mother’s words, when she heard a sharp crack from the woods in front of the house. She stared hard into the darkness, and a moment later a lone figure emerged into the clearing and headed straight for the porch.

“Who’s that?” Kathryn called out.

“Who you think?” the figure replied. “Who you expecting?”

“Jimmy!” She bounced down the front porch steps to meet him. “Where you been so long?” she scolded. “I was about to die of loneliness here!”

“Like I believe that,” he said, laughing. He slid his arm around her waist, but she pulled away and ran to the porch swing, beckoning him to join her.

“What’s goin’ on?” she asked eagerly. “I hardly seen any of you.”

“Miss me?”

“I miss all of you. Now tell me—what’s the word at the Fort?”

“It’s gonna happen, Kath,” he said solemnly. “Word is we’re goin’ in. Nobody knows for sure, but everybody thinks so.”

“When?”

“A month. Maybe less.”

She sat in stunned silence. “All of you?”

The yellow porch light fizzled and switched on again, and for the first time Kathryn could see clearly into Jimmy’s face and eyes. There was something there that she hadn’t seen before—something her mother had tried to warn her about, something she had denied, something she secretly dreaded and hoped would never come. But it had come. It was here. Jimmy picked up her hand and held it tightly.

“I’ve known you for a long time, Kath …”

The words made her heart feel suddenly sick, and she longed to pull away and run into the house, to keep the words from ever being spoken. But she knew that if Jimmy could summon the courage to speak them, then she owed it to him to listen. She steeled her eyes against the flood of emotions she felt within and waited for the words that would most certainly follow.

“We been friends for a long time. We been more than friends. I been more, that is,” he stammered. But there were too many thoughts and too few words, and he jumped up in frustration and slammed the porch post hard with the butt of his hand. The porch light sizzled and went out.

He stood silently in the darkness, then suddenly spun around. “You remember that day we drove way over to Asheville? You was maybe sixteen, no more.”

“I remember.”

“The day went long, the traffic was bad, we got on the road real late.”

“And it was pouring rain. A hurricane, I think. We couldn’t see a thing.”

“So we pulled under an overpass just outside Greensboro to wait it out.”

“And we fell asleep!” She laughed. “We didn’t get home till the next morning! Did I ever catch it from Momma,” she whistled. “Who knows what she must have thought—what everybody thought!”

Jimmy sat down beside her again. “You fell asleep. You put your head back against my shoulder, and you fell asleep. But I watched. I watched you all night long.”

They sat in silence.

“I don’t know what everybody else thought,” he said with gathering momentum, “but I’ll tell you what I thought.”

“Jimmy … wait—”

“I thought it was the best night of my whole life. I thought that for the first time I was that close to what I wanted. And I knew I wanted a whole lifetime of nights like that.”

He took her hand again. It was strangely limp.

“I got to go. But I don’t want to leave without telling you … I want to … I want to ask you to …”

The porch light suddenly switched on again and in one terrible instant Jimmy saw what was in Kathryn’s eyes—he saw everything: fear, remorse, compassion, pity—and the unmistakable answer to his unvoiced question. He saw it all, and there could be no more mistake than if it were painted on the side of a barn.

He dropped her hand.

“I want to ask you to write to me,” he said softly. “I’d kick myself if I left without reminding you.”

Kathryn closed her eyes, knowing that they had surely betrayed her. She prayed for the light to go out again so that she could hide, so that they could both pretend that the words had never been spoken and go back to the way they had always been. A thousand explanations and excuses ran through her mind, but she knew that there was absolutely nothing she could say. Her traitorous eyes had said it all, and now things could never be the same again.

Jimmy slowly rose, his stance less confident than it was just a moment ago.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded, tugging on his hand.

“I better.” He pulled away.

“I will write, because I care about you.” Good words, kind words, but only fossils of the words he’d hoped to hear. They stung him as he turned and headed down the steps toward the woods.

“Jimmy!” she called after him in tears, “you be careful! I’ll write to you, and you write back, okay? Jimmy!”

The light sputtered out.

Kathryn saw herself back on the porch swing, her legs folded and her face in her hands, crying gently in the darkness. Now she understood her mother’s words: Most girls don’t get to choose. Most girls are lucky, she thought. She didn’t want to choose. She only wanted to say yes, but never, ever no. She wanted to be chosen and never have to shatter the hopes of someone who was so close … but not quite close enough.

A moment later Kathryn heard another sound from the woods. Why was he coming back, and what in the world would he say this time? But another silhouette emerged into the clearing with a different manner and a longer gait.

“Who’s there?” Kathryn called, but there was no response. “Call out, or I’ll set loose the dog!”

“Turn that old cur loose,” came the reply. “I haven’t had a good laugh all day.”

Andy!

Kathryn bounded down the steps and met him halfway, throwing her arms around his neck and almost knocking him over.

“I have been away too long.” He laughed, pulling back and looking into her emerald eyes.

“Oh, Andy, it’s been the worst evening! But I don’t want to talk about it—come sit with me.” She took him by the hand and led him to the porch swing.

As they passed the porch light, he reached out and gave it a thump. The amber light cast deep shadows across his chiseled face and made his bottomless brown eyes black as the night. Kathryn watched the shadows cut deep rivulets through his wavy bronze
hair. His arms were long and muscular, and he was broad-chested. He had the stature and physique of a man, but whenever he faced her he always dropped one shoulder like an awkward boy. His smile was the best of all; when Andy smiled his face lit up like a torch.

“It’s happenin’, Kath,” he said with excitement. “They say the division’s gonna be called up any time now—I mean the whole 82d Airborne! They say we’re heading for a base in Saudi Arabia.”

“I know,” she said glumly.

He looked at her. “Who was that I passed coming back through the woods?”

Kathryn said nothing.

“I see.” He smiled. “There’s been another rooster in the henhouse. Well you know what they say”—he nodded toward the flickering porch light—“where there’s light, there’s bugs.”

“It was just Jimmy.”

“And what did Private James McAllister want this evening?”

“Maybe it’s none of your business.”

“Just wanted to drop by and set a spell with the two old spinsters?”

“He just wanted to marry me, that’s all. Oh, Andy, it was awful. I love Jimmy—I’ve always loved Jimmy, but—”

“But not that way.” He finished the sentence for her, and she was glad, because the words sounded so hollow and cheap. “So he asked you to marry him?”

“Not quite. But he was about to.”

“What stopped him?”

“I think he just knew, and he backed off.”

“No wonder he had his tail between his legs.” Andy whistled.

“I guess he’ll get over it.”

“Maybe. I know I wouldn’t.” Andy stepped to the light and gave it a thump. It flicked on. “Guess I can’t blame him. He’s always loved you—ever since we were kids.”

“I never knew that!”

“I knew. Pete knew. Even your momma knew. We could all tell.” The light blinked off, and he gave it another tap. “I wonder if they all know about me?”

Kathryn felt a lump in her throat.

“I wonder …,” he said, “I just wonder what you’d say if I was to ask you the same question?”