Authors: Mary Alice Monroe
“No one knows except Florence and Toy. They’ve been helping me through these past months of treatment. But the radiation is finished now and I hope—I pray—I have this one last summer.”
“This summer? That’s all?”
“It’s enough. Cara, I know I’m terribly selfish to ask this, but please stay with me. Just for this summer? I know how difficult it is for you to get away from work for so much time, but if you could see your way clear to do it…”
Cara took a long ragged breath and looked out at the stars. All the crazy pieces of the past few weeks tumbled together to guide her to this answer. She took her mother’s hand and squeezed it gently, causing her to smile with hope.
“Of course I’ll stay, for as long as you need me. I’ll take care of you. I won’t leave you, I promise.”
“But your job?”
“Don’t worry about that. Oh, Mama, I have a lot to explain to you, too.”
The turtle uses her hind flippers in an elaborate digging ritual, alternately digging out scoops of sand to create an egg chamber eighteen to twenty-two inches deep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
T
oy woke early. She couldn’t sleep in even if she wanted to. The baby was growing fast now and pressing down on her bladder so that she had to pee all the time. There was so much that was changing in her body. Her belly was really starting to stick out there and her breasts were enormous. Darryl would have liked that, she thought, then her smile fell.
Last night she’d sat alone in the Rutledge’s TV room while in the dining room the others talked and talked. She’d hated being stuck in that house, hated having to wait, then pretend she didn’t hear nothing. Well, she’d heard plenty. Every word that pompous, pig-faced Palmer had said about her. And she’d heard what wasn’t said, too.
It was Cara who stood up for her. Cara who let her brother have it right between the eyes. Toy still felt the same wonder and awe just remembering it. The ice queen—who’d have thought?
All night long she’d wrestled with the thought that she should go back to Darryl. She’d dreamed about him, too. His nice smile, the way he was so protective of her and was always looking out for her.
He’d never let someone talk about her the way Palmer Rutledge did. But that wasn’t the only reason she was thinking of going back to Darryl. Her insides hurt so bad that Lovie hadn’t said a word to hush up her son. He’d said some real hurtful things that were not true. Did he think that just because she was poor she would steal? That’s what so many rich people thought, that poor folks didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. She’d never steal from Miss Lovie! As if! It sounded to her like
he
was trying to steal from his own mother, taking something that didn’t belong to him out of pure and simple greed. To her mind, that was as low as anyone could go, rich or poor. It wasn’t as if he didn’t get nothing already. Jeez, if someone gave her a house like that she’d be set for life.
Not that anyone ever would. People like her didn’t live in houses like that. She didn’t want it anyway. All she really wanted was a nice, clean place that was sunny and she could fix up the way Lovie taught her with pretty tablecloths and matching dishes and some lace at the window. She’d make it a happy place, too, for her baby and Darryl. She was good at making people happy and knew he’d want them both back. He just needed a little time to get over the shock of her being pregnant and all. ‘Cause that’s all it was, a shock. He didn’t mean to hit her or say those things. He was a good man and she knew he loved her. He’d love her baby, too, once he saw it. She just knew it.
So she thought maybe she should call him today and sort of see how he felt about her coming back. Even if she’d told Miss Lovie she wouldn’t.
She thought these things while she washed her face and squeezed into one of her A-line dresses. She tsked when she saw the seam tearing at the waist. Walking down the hall she tried reaching down her back to tug on the zipper that strained at the task. Then she stopped, sniffing the air. Was that coffee she smelled?
“Good morning!” Cara looked up and smiled when Toy stepped into view.
Toy was so taken by surprise she didn’t know what to say. This was the first morning she’d even seen Miss Caretta Rutledge before 11:00 a.m. much less in the kitchen brewing coffee and making toast. She’d have rubbed her eyes if it wouldn’t have smeared her eyeliner.
“Want some coffee?”
“Why, uh, sure. Thanks.” She reached for the cup but Cara already pulled one from the mix-and-match sets in the cupboard. “Want this one? The Meissen’s always been a favorite of mine.”
“I’m partial to those pink flowered ones.”
“Limoges. You have good taste. Those are Mama’s favorites, too.”
Toy basked in the compliment, but remained wary.
The toast popped up, and with the speed of a short-order cook, Cara had it buttered and placed on two plates, one for each of them. She then carried a platter of jam, sliced cheddar and Jarlsburg cheeses to the table.
“I’m not a gourmet cook, but this should settle us for awhile. Do you want anything more? Cereal? Eggs? A growing baby must need a lot.”
“I can fix it myself later. This will hold me just fine for now.” She looked at Cara, unsure of what to expect next. Cara looked lean and fit in her khaki shorts, like one of those ladies in Miss Lovie’s
Town and Country
magazines. Feeling self-conscious, Toy reached her arm behind her back for the zipper, feeling as gangly as a walrus.
“Here, let me get that for you.” Cara moved behind Toy and with a few struggles, tugged the zipper up the track. “I’d tell you to tuck in your stomach but I don’t think it’d do any good. I hate to tell you this, sweetie, but this dress isn’t going to hold you much longer. What do you say we go to the Towne Center and pick you up a few maternity things?”
“I’m okay,” Toy replied quickly. “I’m fixing to sew up a few dresses. By the way, where is Miss Lovie? She’s usually the first one up.”
“She’s pretty tired this morning. I’m glad she’s sleeping in.” Cara moved toward the table and gestured for Toy to follow her. They sat across from each other, Toy a bit uneasy but Cara more relaxed than she’d ever seen her as she applied a thick layer of strawberry jam to her wheat toast and bit into it with relish.
Toy watched every move Cara made, painfully aware of her natural elegance. Toy sat straighter in her chair and imitated her movements as she spread jam on her own toast.
“You’ll never guess what we saw last night,” Cara said, her eyes sparkling. When Toy shook her head, Cara exclaimed, “A turtle! We saw the whole thing—the digging, the laying of the eggs. Then we followed her back to the ocean. What a gorgeous creature she was.”
Toy bit into her toast, then said while chewing, “I thought you didn’t like turtles.”
Cara wiped her mouth with a napkin, emerging from the white linen with a smile. “I do now. How could I not after that spectacle?”
“This happened last night? Where was I?”
“Fast asleep. I hope you aren’t upset we didn’t call you. Actually, Mama woke me up and we hurried out there. I think she wanted to spend some time alone with me.” She set down her toast, wiped her hands and gave Toy her full attention. Her face was serious. “Last night Mama told me about the cancer.”
Toy put down her own toast and just stared back at Cara.
“We talked about a lot of things last night, things we should have talked about long before. She told me about how you’ve taken care of her all these months. Taking her to the hospital for all those treatments. Waiting for hours at a time. That couldn’t have been easy.”
“It was nothing compared to what she’s done for me.”
Cara seemed to take this statement to heart. “You did a lot, and I thank you for it. I can’t tell you how much. But that’s going to change now. I’ve decided to stay for the summer and I’m here to help. Don’t worry that I’m taking your job away from you. I’m just making it a little easier. I figure I’ll do some of the outside chores that need doing, the driving and maybe the shopping when you’re tired. I can’t cook worth a darn, so you’d best keep that up if you don’t want to starve. And Mama can tell you I’m not exactly a neat housekeeper. Frankly, I’ve no skills whatsoever in the house and hearth department. So, believe me, we need you. We can work out all the details later. I just wanted you to know.”
Toy sat silent for a moment, ruminating all she’d been told. Cara seemed so confident. So efficient. So different this morning than she had been since she’d arrived. She figured Cara must really love her mother after all.
“I’m glad Miss Lovie told you. I’ve been wishing she would. It didn’t seem right me knowing and not you. Made me feel like we had some secret and it wasn’t like that at all. I think she was protecting you.”
“Mama has a habit of doing that. She likes to keep things inside and pretend everything is just peachy keen. I guess now it’s my turn to protect her. No, not from you!” she said with a smile.
“From Palmer?”
Cara’s brows rose at this. “Maybe. He doesn’t know about the cancer yet. I’m worried how he’ll take it.”
“Do you think he’ll make her go back into the city?”
“Not if I can help it. But he’ll try and I admit I’m worried. She defers to him now like she deferred to my father. I still get mad just thinking about it.” She sighed and stared into her coffee. “I’m sure growing up seeing my mother kowtow to my father is one reason why being independent has always been so important to me. A woman shouldn’t expect a man to take care of her.”
“Why not? I do.”
“Don’t. If you’re waiting for a man to sweep you away and make your troubles disappear, then you’ll be disappointed. I found it was much more likely to happen if I depended on myself instead.”
“That’s fine for you and all, but I guess I’m more like Miss Lovie. You know, kinda old-fashioned. I don’t want a big career. I just want to be married and have a nice family. That’s all I ever wanted. And I know my Darryl will take good care of me and my baby someday.”
Cara didn’t reply. She sat listening in that way of hers that made Toy feel like every single word she said was being chewed, swallowed and digested. Unaccustomed to such focused attention she found it unnerving. She got up from the table and took her plate to the sink. Carrying the coffeepot back with her, she poured Cara another cup, then set the pot on the table and sat again in her chair.
“There’s something else I wanted to tell you,” Toy said hesitatingly. “About last night.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I heard what your brother said about me.”
Cara frowned. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. It was vile.”
“Yeah, it was.” She picked at her nail and shrugged. “But I’m kinda used to it. A lot of people like to judge pregnant teenagers. They think there’s something wrong with us, with our morals. You know? Anyway, I heard what you said back to him.” She raised her eyes. “Thanks.”
Cara leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Don’t mention it. He’s not a bad guy, really. He just needs a zing every once in a while to keep him honest. Julia should learn how to do it.”
“Yeah. Like, what’s that about?”
“What?”
“You know. He bosses her around a lot.”
Cara frowned into her coffee. “Like father like son.”
“You mean your daddy treated Miss Lovie that way?”
“Oh, yes. Only worse.” Her face darkened and she grabbed hold of her coffee cup. “Much worse.”
Toy drew back in her chair. She didn’t think things like that happened to women South of Broad. “I don’t believe it. Who’d ever treat Miss Lovie like that? She’s like the perfect lady. So kind and sweet.”
“Most ladies who are treated like that are sweet. It’s the bitches like me who won’t tolerate it.”
Toy laughed, enjoying the sound of it again. She’d been on tenterhooks ever since Cara had arrived. “You’re not a bitch.” Then when Cara looked at her askance, she laughed again and added, “Well, not anymore, anyway.”
Until this morning, Cara’s smiles were rare. Now they spread across her face frequently, even if with a rusty awkwardness.
“All joking aside,” Cara said, “I don’t think a woman who refuses to be hit or bullied is a bitch, actually. She has self-respect.”
“Are you saying your daddy hit Miss Lovie?”
Cara’s face clouded. “I’m just saying there’s no excuse for a man to hit a woman. None. Period. But verbal beatings can be worse. More insidious, in that the scars aren’t visible. Words can be killers. And don’t think for a minute he didn’t fire those verbal bullets in a splay pattern. It was a war zone growing up. We all got hit at some point or another.” Her gaze was distant and Toy could see she was remembering details. “The difference is I escaped. She stayed. I swear, I don’t know how she stood it all those years.”
“She must have loved him a lot.” Her voice sounded very small to her own ears.
Cara looked at her for a long time, her dark eyes pulsing some message that Toy couldn’t quite grasp. “That would only make it worse, don’t you think?”
Toy lowered her head to pick at her nail. “You can’t help it when you love someone real bad.”
“You can always help it. You always have a choice.”
Toy felt a surge of anger and shame sweep over her that stained her cheeks pink. When she heard things like this it made her feel like there was something wrong with her. Her friends used to ask her why she put up with Darryl’s harassing her all the time, shoving her or saying cruel things in public. They asked her why she didn’t just break up with him? But she couldn’t, and it made her feel stupid, like she should know better. She knew they were trying to help, that Cara was trying, but it only made her feel like she wasn’t good enough.