The Book of Bright Ideas (2 page)

The lady grabbed a big black purse off of the seat of the truck and we all headed toward the store, Winnalee's loopy hair dancing, her mesh slip flapping in the breeze like fins.

Fanny Tilman backed out of the doorway and slipped behind a grocery shelf, where I knew she was gonna stay hid, like a mouse waiting for somebody to drop some crumbs.

“Where you people from?” Aunt Verdella asked as she scooted behind the counter. The pretty lady took a bottle of RC Cola and one of root beer from the cooler, then set them down on the counter alongside her purse. Winnalee was behind her.

“Gary,” she says. “Gary, Indiana. We drove straight through.”

“Yeah,” Winnalee said. “We had to leave in the middle of the night. All because Freeda went dancing with some guy from the meat factory, when she was supposed to be Harley Hoffesteader's girl. Harley got so pissed he was coming after her with a shotgun. Probably would have killed both of us dead if we hadn't gotten out of there fast. It don't matter, though. Freeda would've moved us anyways. She always does.” The lady cuffed her on the top of her head and Winnalee cried out, “Ouch!” Aunt Verdella flinched and told Winnalee that maybe she should go potty now, and would she like me or her to go with her. Winnalee's nose crinkled. “I'm not a baby,” she said, then she grabbed the key from the counter and marched out the door.

“Oh my. Gary. That's quite a drive. That must be, what, a good three fifty, four hundred miles from here?”

“I don't know.” Freeda shook her head so that wispy strands wobbled against her long neck. “Hell, I don't even know where we are.”

“You're in Dauber, Wisconsin, dear. Population 3,263,” Aunt Verdella said proudly. “You thinking of settling here, or are you just passing through?”

Freeda shrugged. “I guess one place is as good as another. There any places to rent around here?”

I swear I heard Fanny Tilman (who was peeking up over the bread rack) gasp.

Aunt Verdella squeaked her tongue against her teeth as she thought. Then her puffy lips made a circle like a doughnut. “Ohhhh, well, actually, there just might be! Well, if you don't mind living in a place that's being fixed up, that is. You see, my husband, Rudy, and his brother, Reece, their ma passed away a couple a years ago, and we've been talking about renting her place out once Reece gets it fixed up. I keep saying that a house that sits empty falls to ruin fast, but you know how men are. Reece—that's Button here's daddy—he ain't gotten around to the repairs yet, but if you don't mind him coming and going, I don't see why we can't rent it to you now.”

Winnalee came back in and held the key out to me, but looked at Freeda. “Hey, you said we were going to Detroit! She lies,” she said to me, her thumb jabbing toward Freeda. Then she leaned over and peered at the mesh slip she was wearing. “Can you see my undies through this thing?” I looked, saw a bit of white, and told her I could. She rolled her big, lake-on-a-sunny-day-colored eyes and sighed. “I tried to tell Freeda that I was in my underwear, but she went and packed up my clothes anyway.”

Freeda grunted. “Like it matters. You're in dress-up clothes half the time, anyway, Winnalee.”

Aunt Verdella talked about Grandma Mae's place, bragging about the nice closed-in porch with good screens (all but for the one a barn cat shredded) and about the flower garden that was already shooting up daffodils and hyacinths, while she went to the freezer so Winnalee could pick out a treat. She called me over to have something too.

“Oh dear, where
are
my manners,” she said all of a sudden. “I didn't even introduce myself yet. I'm Verdella Peters, and this here is my niece, Evelyn Mae, but we all call her Button. She's nine years old. How old are you, Winnalee?”

“I'm gonna be ten on September first,” she said.

Freeda smiled for the first time, and her smile was as pretty as her hair. “I'm Freeda Malone, and you already know the sassy one. She's my kid sister.”

Things happened fast then. While Freeda Malone was paying for her gas and the pop, Aunt Verdella told her they could get something to eat at the Spot Café. “You girls come back after you're done eating,” Aunt Verdella said. “I'm closin' up in an hour, and you can follow me then.” While Aunt Verdella chattered, I watched Winnalee eat her grape Popsicle. She didn't seem to have one bit of worry about the purple dripping down her hand and streaking her arm. I had my wrapper cupped around my stick, like you're supposed to, so I didn't have to worry about getting all sticky and stained.

The minute the Malones left, Aunt Verdella got as light and floaty as bubbles. Fanny Tilman came out of her hiding place then, looking like a gray mouse in her wool coat, even though it was too warm for even a little jacket.

“Verdella! Jewel is gonna be fit to be tied, you offering Mae's house like that! And to some gypsy drifters, to boot!”

Aunt Verdella waved Fanny Tilman's comment away. “It's gonna be real nice having people in that house, Fanny. I get so lonely when I look across the road and see that big, empty place. Mae didn't take to me much, but still, it was just nice knowing someone was there.” She looked down at me and grinned. “And Button here sure could use a little friend, couldn't you, Button?”

Mrs. Tilman's mouth pinched. “Good heavens, Verdella. It's not like bringing home a litter of abandoned kittens, you know. These are strangers, and most likely trouble, by the looks of them.”

When the Malones came back, Winnalee had ketchup splotched on her blouse, right over one of those points sticking out front like two witch's hats. Her eyes were a little red, and her cheeks had white streaks on them where a few tears had washed them. She didn't look unhappy at the moment, though, as she squatted to examine the tops of some canned goods where rainbowy shadows made by something shiny hanging in the window were flickering.

Aunt Verdella took her pay out of the till like she was told to—one dollar for every hour she worked this week—while I packed up my doll. She folded the envelope in threes and tucked it into her bra to take home and put in her jewelry box, where she kept all the money that was going toward the RCA color television set she wanted. A magazine ad of it was tacked to her fridge door, where it had hung since I was in the first grade. When she first came over with that ad, saying she was gonna save up and buy it even if it took her a lifetime, Ma had taken the
TV Guide
and showed Aunt Verdella how, at best, she'd only get three hours of color TV time a day. Mom repeated this story whenever she wanted to make Aunt Verdella look foolish. “I told her, look here, on Mondays, you'll only get forty-five minutes!” But Verdella just laughed and said, “‘Long as two of those hours are used up by
As the World Turns
and Arthur Godfrey, I'll be happy. Besides, by the time I save up $495, who knows, they might
all
be in living color!'” Aunt Verdella had no idea how much that TV set was gonna cost her once she finally saved up enough, but she still faithfully put away every spare dime she had to buy it.

Aunt Verdella locked up The Corner Store and we climbed into her turquoise and white Bel Air, which was cluttered with junk. A Raggedy Ann and Andy—bought from the community sale last summer, just because they were cute—were propped on the bag of romance magazines that somebody gave her weeks ago, and wadded-up candy and chip wrappers littered the floor. Aunt Verdella checked my door three times to make sure it was locked, so I wouldn't lean on it and fall out, then made me set down my Barbie case and climb over the seat to watch out the back window as she backed out, so she didn't run anybody over.

“It's okay,” I said.

Once we got going, I climbed back into the front seat. I sat close to Aunt Verdella, her arm warm against my cheek. Aunt Verdella kept looking in the rearview mirror, making sure that the Malones were still following us.

The shortest way home was down Highway 8, but Aunt Verdella wouldn't drive on the highway, so we kicked up dust down one town road after another, driving for what seemed forever. By the time we got out of the city limits the insides of my arms were splotched with the red, pimply rash that sprouted up on them whenever I got rattled. I knew Ma wasn't gonna be happy. Not about my dirty knees, and not about the Malones. I slid my jaw over a bit so my teeth could grab at the bumpy clump of skin inside my cheek, even though Dr. Wagner told me that if I kept up the nasty habit, I was gonna bite a hole clear through my face. Aunt Verdella wasn't worried like me though. She sang lines from one of those country songs she always played on her record player and grinned like she was bringing home Christmas. The rash itchin' my arms, though, told me that maybe this was a package we weren't supposed to open.

2

Aunt Verdella chattered about having the Malones in Grandma Mae's house, while she kept her eyes on the road and drove with her hands choking the wheel. Now and then, her head gave a little jerk as she looked in the rearview mirror. I turned in my seat and took a peek back too. I couldn't see inside their windshield good, but I could see shadows moving, like maybe Winnalee and Freeda weren't sittin' still.

We drove past a lot of farms where cows stood in the fields doing nothing but chewing. Then we drove a long stretch seeing nothing but trees and brush crouched close to the road, and a few old farmhouses. Finally, we came to Peters Road, drove past Aunt Verdella's house, and crossed the highway.

Our house, which was sort of new, sat right on Highway 8, our driveway across from Peters Road. Daddy had built it when I was just a baby. It was one of those houses shaped like a shoe box, with a garage next to it painted turquoise like our house. Off to one side was a bigger garage, where Daddy and Uncle Rudy worked on things, but that was just silver. Ma's car was sitting in our garage, its butt facing out, so I knew she was home.

Ma always did the same thing when she got home from work. She got out of her nylons and suit and put on an old housedress in case she spattered grease while cooking, then she'd start supper. I knew Ma would be in the kitchen when we pulled in the drive, and that wasn't gonna be good, because Ma always complained if company dropped in without calling first, especially if it was almost suppertime.

Aunt Verdella didn't care though. She pulled her Bel Air into the driveway and hit the brakes so hard that Raggedy Ann tumbled down to my feet. I scooped her up and put her back next to Raggedy Andy.

Aunt Verdella thumped on the horn. She got out of the car and hurried to the Malones' truck, which was parked behind us. “Button, go get your ma. Hurry up, now!” I got out of the car and stood there, not wanting to, while Aunt Verdella yelled out real loud, “Jewel! Come on out here! Jewel!” her words banging right through the screen door.

Ma came out on the steps. She had a stirring spoon in her hand and an apron slung around her middle. She didn't look real happy to see any of us.

“Jewel, come on over here. I got someone for you to meet.” Ma looked at me like she was begging me to tell her what was going on.

“Evelyn, go get your father and your uncle out of the garage, please,” Ma said to me through a smile that didn't spread up to her eyes.

As I was heading toward the garage, Aunt Verdella was tugging the Malones out of the truck. I was almost glad to be gone then, 'cause I didn't want to see Ma's face when she saw Winnalee Malone wearing dress-up clothes with her underwear showing through.

I stepped into the garage, which was so big that it took the clanking of tools and cranked them as loud as if they were sounding in a microphone. The whole place smelled like metal and oil. Daddy had the radio on, and the Beach Boys were singing so loud he couldn't hear me calling from the doorway. I went inside, right over to where Daddy and Uncle Rudy were working on Daddy's old 1934 Ford, doing what Daddy said was “restorin'” it. Uncle Rudy was leaned under the hood, and Daddy was scooted under the car, his legs sticking out of the side like somebody had drove over him, pinning him underneath.

Uncle Rudy smiled when he saw me. “Hey there, Button,” he shouted. I tried to yell to tell him that Ma wanted him and Daddy to come out, but I knew by the way he was studying my mouth that he could only see it move, not hear what it was saying. He went over to the radio and turned it down, leaned over so he could hear me, then he told Daddy what I said.

Daddy rolled out from under the car on one of those little boards with wheels and sat up. His black eyebrows knelt down over his eyes. He didn't grin and pat my head when he saw me the way Uncle Rudy did. Instead, he looked through me like I was made of fog and asked Uncle Rudy what was going on. Uncle Rudy told him he'd go see.

When Uncle Rudy and I got to the driveway, Aunt Verdella waved and grinned. She didn't wait for Uncle Rudy to get to where they were standing on the lawn. Instead, she half-ran, half-walked to meet him and gave him a big hug and smooches on his cheek, as if nobody was even watching. She started talking a mile a minute, trying to explain things.

Uncle Rudy shook Freeda's hand and patted Winnalee on the head. She grinned up at him, her lips still purple from her Popsicle.

“So I told the girls to follow me right over here. That I was sure we could set something up.”

“Rudy, I think Reece better come out here,” Ma said. She crossed her arms tight, then said, “Evelyn Mae, go get your father. Now.”

I didn't like talking directly to Daddy. It made me feel shy in my belly. But I went.

“Your dad looks like Elvis,” Winnalee said when Daddy and me got back to the yard (not even bothering to whisper), but that wasn't so. He had black hair like Elvis, and eyes the color of a navy crayon, but not the same nose and mouth, just regular ones.

Aunt Verdella introduced everybody, and Daddy moved the tool he was holding from his right hand to his left, wiped his hand on his jeans, then held it out to Freeda. She grinned when she took it and got all squirmy. “Sorry to be barging in like this, interrupting your work, but your sister-in-law insisted on rescuing us.” Daddy told her they weren't interrupting anything, even though they were. Winnalee went right up to Daddy, and she smiled up at him. “You look like Elvis,” she said. Daddy laughed, then patted her on the head.

“Reece,” Ma said, “I was just reminding Verdella how we agreed not to rent out Mae's house until you got those repairs done. Mae's things aren't even packed away yet.” Ma's voice got quiet, like mine did when I had to tell her or Daddy something.

“Oh, Jewel,” Aunt Verdella said. “These girls don't mind if it's not fixed up yet. And I'm done at The Corner Store now, so I can pack up Mae's things.” Freeda's green eyes were staring at Daddy's arm, right below where the sleeve of his T-shirt was rolled up over a pack of Camels, showing his tattoo of a heart with a knife stuck through it, a drop of red blood falling from it.

I had never really looked at my ma when she was standing next to a real pretty lady before, but now that I was, I saw something that I never saw before—and what I saw made me feel sad for her, and for some reason, sad for me too. My ma wasn't pretty. Her eyes were too squinty and her lips were only skimpy gray lines. Her thin hair was the color of oatmeal and lay flat and dull against her head, except for a skirt of frizzies at the bottom and a lump of curled bangs sitting across the top of her long forehead like a pork link. She was tall like a man. And with no bumps that you could see poking against her pale green dress, she looked like a praying mantis bug.

Ma crossed her arms, which were pale like her face and had blue streaks sitting close under her skin. I turned away from her and looked at pretty Winnalee, and I thought of how I must look just as ugly standing next to her as Ma looked standing next to Freeda Malone.

“And if you're looking for work, Freeda, Reece here was just saying that Marty, down at Marty's Place, is looking for another waitress. The new girl he hired a couple months ago just quit to get married.” She turned to my daddy. “Weren't ya just saying that this morning, Reece?” She didn't wait for him to answer. She turned back to Freeda. “Reece here and his friend, Owen Palmer, they used to play guitars and sing over at Marty's Place every Friday night. The place wasn't much then, but he's remodeling with nice light paneling and a new dance floor. He'll be reopening in another week or so, isn't that what you said, Reece? They have the best fish fries in town, don't they, Rudy? Have you waitressed before, Freeda?”

Freeda laughed. “Hell, of course I've waitressed before. And served beer to old drunks, scrubbed other people's toilets, wound the eyes to fish poles, answered phones, hacked old ladies' hair—you name it, I've done it.”

“Well, let's all go on inside and talk things over, over a pot of coffee,” Aunt Verdella said, as she pushed everyone toward the house like they were her dolls and she was taking them on an adventure. “You two can stay outside and play,” she said to me and Winnalee. “Aunt Verdella will bring you some nice lemonade and some of those peanut butter cookies I brought by this morning.”

Soon as the screen door shut, Winnalee headed across the yard toward the tire swing that hung from our big maple, and I followed because I didn't know what else to do. She set her vase and book down on the grass, then she stuck herself through the tire, belly side down, and pushed herself with her bare feet. “You and your ma are gray people,” she said as she waved her arms in the breeze like she was swimming.

My arms itched a bit when she said this, though I wasn't sure why, since I didn't even know what she meant, much less if I was supposed to get mad 'cause she said it. Winnalee probably didn't know I was mad, though, because she wasn't looking at me. She was swinging and staring out at the woods that sat out past the yard. I wanted to ask her what she meant, but I couldn't make myself do nothing but stare and blink.

“Push me,” Winnalee said, so I did. “No, wind me up!” she begged when I made both my arms use the same shove so she'd go nice and straight.

I took the tire and ran in circles till the rope was twisted up like a screw, then I let go. Winnalee squealed, “Wheeeeeee!”

When the swing was doing nothing but swaying side to side like a wobbly drunk, Winnalee pulled herself out of the tire and zigzagged across the grass, her arms stretched wide, then she fell down and giggled. I just stood there, staring at her. She sat up after a bit. “Hey, you wanna see my ma?”

She went over to where her vase and book were sitting. She sat down, her legs straddling the vase. She unscrewed the lid, tipped it toward me, then waited for me to bend over and take a peek. I wanted to look, yet I didn't. I knew there wasn't a lady inside there, so I knew she was just pulling my leg, but I didn't want to have to say so out loud. “Go on, look.”

She waited, so I leaned over and looked, but I didn't see nothing but the shadow my head was making over the dark hole. “You see her?” she asked.

“It's too dark in there to see anything,” I said.

She pulled the vase closer to her and took a peek. “Here,” she said, “come around my side and you can see her.”

I moved behind Winnalee and peered over her shoulder. I could see inside a bit then, but it just looked like somebody had emptied their ashtray in there, and I told Winnalee so.

“Those ashes
are
my ma,” she said.

I forgot about being shy then. “Uh-uh!” I said.

She looked up at me, her eyes so pretty blue that I couldn't help staring. “It
is
my ma. She's dead and burned up to ashes.”

I shook my head. “Uh-uh, dead people get buried in the ground.” I said this knowing full well I was right, because Grandma Mae was dead, and so was Uncle Rudy's first wife, Aunt Betty. And on that day for the dead—that day that scared me—we'd all go to the cemetery and put plastic flowers next to the gravestones with their names on them.

“Well, not my ma,” Winnalee said.

I wanted to call Winnalee a liar, but something in the way she said it, her eyes looking like they were turning into water, made me stop. “It ain't right, though,” she said quietly. “Somebody being put into a jar and moving around town to town and never having a final restin' place. That's what Ma used to call graves. Final restin' places. So when I get big and get me some money, I'm gonna buy her a restin' place right under an apple tree. And I'm gonna buy her a nice, pretty white stone with a fairy on it and tell them to cut the words
Hannah Malone
right into the marble. That's what I'm gonna do.”

Winnalee screwed the lid back on that thing she called an urn and set it back on the grass, gently, like she didn't want it to break. “Wanna see my Book of Bright Ideas?” she said. I nodded. She patted the grass beside her, but I didn't want to sit next to a dead, burned lady, so I sat on the other side of her. She picked up her book. “It's genuine leather bound,” she said, her chubby hand brushing over the brown cover with gold letters sunken into it, so that I couldn't read the title because her fingers were in the way.

She was about to tell me more when Aunt Verdella burst out the front door, carrying a tray. “Aunt Verdella didn't forget about you two!” she yelled as she hurried toward us, her eyes watching the two pink, plastic cups on the tray so they wouldn't tip over. “Well, maybe for a minute I did,” she said, then she ha-ha-ed all the way across the yard.

She bent over to set the lemonade and plate of four cookies on the grass. I could see a strip of silver sitting on both sides of her part, which told me that she wouldn't have her dark auburn hair long before she hauled me to the drugstore, where she'd hold boxes up to her head and ask me which colored, frozen wave would look the best on her. Winnalee picked up one of Aunt Verdella's peanut butter cookies and grinned at the crooked raisin-smile. I was gonna tell Winnalee that I helped Aunt Verdella poke the smiles into those cookies, but I didn't.