Providence (13 page)

As I walked out of the room, I heard Dottie in a half-whisper say, “I’m sorry, Rosie, but that is not the body of a girl who just had a baby.”

I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself. This was the first time since coming to Watson’s Grove that I’d worn anything but baggy clothes. It was probably the first time since I was twelve I’d worn anything but baggy clothes in front of anyone other than Mama and the little ones. At the store, I had picked the most modest suit I could find. I pulled on the shorts and wondered if I should cover it with a loose T-shirt, too. I had woven a cloak of lies since I’d gotten here, and this bathing suit just might be the loose thread Dottie could tug on to make the whole deceitful cloth unravel. I sat on the edge of the bed. Putting on a shirt now wasn’t going to make Dottie unsee whatever it is she saw. It was too late for that. Maybe it was time for Baby Girl and me to move along.

Dottie yelled my name and pulled me from my thoughts. I jumped up and ran to the living room. “What’s wrong?” I asked, looking at Baby Girl.

“There’s nothing wrong. John is here to drive you to that party. You’re bringing a towel with you, aren’t you?” Dottie said, nodding toward the door.

I looked at John, who was leaning against the doorjamb. When I turned to face him, he stood up straight. “I can walk there,” I said.

Rosie pulled herself up out of her chair. “Nonsense, John’s happy to do this. It’s a long walk, and you have those brownies you made last night to bring with you. In this heat, they would be chocolate soup by the time you got there. He will go back to fetch you after the party too, so just tell him what time to be there.”

Sitting in the front seat of the truck, I could feel John looking at me every few minutes. I just kept staring ahead. When he stopped in front of the house, he said, “You’re going to a party, not a funeral. This is supposed to be fun.”

I couldn’t tell him my current state of being was because my brain was clouded with worries about where Baby Girl and I should go next. I just let him think it was me worrying about a party.

John looked at his watch. “How about I come back between eight-thirty and nine, and if you want to stay later I’ll make myself scarce for another hour or two?”

I nodded, even though I had never stayed out to eleven o’clock in my life and I was certain today wasn’t going to be the first time. I slid down from the seat, grabbed the plate and towel, and began to walk at snail speed up the driveway. I wasn’t even halfway up when I heard whooping and hollering coming from the backyard.

When I was almost to the gate, the girl with the pink stripe in her hair raced by me. She stopped, turned around, and looked at me. “Hey, I know you. You’re the girl from the library. I didn’t know you were coming.” She opened the gate and held it for me.

Sarah ran over to us. “I’m glad you’re both here! Mickey, Amy is telling us about a guy she met on her cruise this summer. You have to go listen. The story is so funny! Becky, those brownies look delicious. Let’s go put them in the kitchen.”

She led me across the patio. “That’s my dad,” she said, pointing to the man behind the grill. “Dad, this is Becky,” she shouted. The man raised a long fork in my direction. I waved back. Her mother was standing at a counter in the kitchen wrapping ears of corn in foil. “Mom, you remember Becky. She brought brownies.” She picked one up and took a bite. “They taste as good as they look, too.”

Her mother rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Becky. That was very thoughtful of you. I’ll put them out later.” She looked at Sarah. “Some people actually eat dessert
after
they eat their dinner.”

Sarah hugged her mother. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll have one then, too!”

I looked around the room. Every surface glistened in the light. Mama and Daddy would approve. Sarah let go of her mother and grabbed my arm, leading me outside. As I looked around the yard, I wondered if Sarah really thought this crowd was just a few friends. There were about a dozen boys at one end of the pool, trying to get the attention of the girls by acting as silly as my little brothers do when they are down at the pond far from Mama’s and Daddy’s eyes. The girls were doing their best to look like they were ignoring them. They formed a circle on the patio, some stretched out on lounge chairs, some sitting cross-legged on towels. My worries about being seen in a bathing suit disappeared in a flash. You could cut up my suit and make a half dozen of the tiny suits some of those girls were wearing. Mama and Daddy approving would surely have ended at the kitchen.

We joined the circle of girls. Each of them had a story to tell about their summer vacation. Having never been on a vacation, I had nothing to add, but I enjoyed hearing about all of the places they saw and the things they did. Each of those places deserved a spot in my notebook. When the conversation changed to movies, one of the girls got up and announced she was going for a swim. Several other girls trailed after her. I pulled off my shorts and got into the water, too. A few of the girls sat on the steps, half in and half out of the water. A couple of them floated around in chairs. I swam laps. As I glided back and forth in the water, my brain seemed to escape my worries. When Mrs. Hanson rang a cowbell to call us all to dinner, I realized I was truly hungry. I got out of the pool, wrapped myself in a towel, and joined the others.

The boys huddled around the grill, talking football with Mr. Hanson as they ate. The rest of us sat around a long table. Mickey was sitting next to me, and Amy was on the other side of her. Amy leaned over Mickey and said, “I’m surprised you two are sitting next to each other.”

“Why?” I asked.

Amy pointed at a boy standing with the others. “Drew has not been able to take his eyes off you since you went into the pool. Mickey is in love with Drew.”

“He doesn’t even know me,” I said.

Amy laughed. “Don’t worry, he’ll make sure you know him before the party is over.”

Mickey got up and moved to the other end of the table. I stared at my plate. The boys came over to the table when Mrs. Hanson placed the dessert platters in the center of it. The conversation quickly changed to school. Everyone exchanged information on which teacher they had for chemistry, what period they had English, and horror stories they had heard about the history teacher. I sat back and hoped no one would ask me about my schedule.

After dessert, the group splintered. I went back to the pool. It was the one place I felt comfortable. I swam around for a short time, but when a dark cloud rolled overhead I pulled myself up onto the side of the pool. I was still sitting there with my legs in the water when Drew swam up and grabbed hold of the edge, to the right of me. The side of his arm scraped against my thigh. “Hi, I’m Drew,” he said. “You’re Becky, right?”

I nodded, but before I could speak I heard the
thwack
,
thwack
,
thwack
of flip-flops on concrete. I looked up and saw Mickey standing over me. “Oh, Becky, I forgot to ask about your baby earlier. Is she home with the Baby Daddy?”

“What?” said Drew.

Mickey tilted her head. “Didn’t Becky tell you about her little family yet? Maybe she has some pictures of her baby she can show you later.”

Drew swam to the shallow end of the pool. He whispered to the other boys there, and they all turned and stared at me. I stood up and walked past Mickey. I wrapped my towel around me. A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. Sarah came over and shouted, “Everybody out of the pool. The party is moving inside. Grab something to carry in on your way.”

“I’m going to go home now, Sarah,” I said. “Please tell your parents thank you for me.”

“No, don’t go. The party is just getting started. Besides, you might get stuck in the rain if you leave now.”

I shook my head and tried to blink away the tears forming in my eyes. “I really have to go.”

Mickey put her hand on my arm. “I hope it wasn’t something I said,” she said before sauntering away.

Sarah looked at me like I was a lost puppy. “What did she say?”

“It isn’t important,” I answered.

Sarah chewed on her bottom lip. “Mickey can be a real jerk sometimes, especially if it involves boys. This is my home and you are my guest. I hope you’ll stay. I’ll talk to her and she won’t bother you again.”

“It’s okay. I really just want to go home.”

The gate swung shut. I looked over and saw John standing there. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

I nodded. Sarah said, “I’m really sorry about whatever happened. We can still be friends though, right? I don’t want to lose my book buddy over this. We’ll get together soon and talk books.”

“Soon,” I said. I knew that was just one more lie. Sarah was going back to school and would be spending what free time she had with her school friends. The problem wasn’t just Mickey. I didn’t fit into that world.

I waited to pull my shorts on until I was in the truck. The thunder gave way to lightning on the way home. I knew Baby Girl was going to need a whole lot of cuddling that night. Both Rosie and Dottie looked real glad to see me when I walked into the house. Georgia, who had no appreciation for Mother Nature’s concert, let out an ear-piercing scream after every drum roll.

For the first time since we moved in with Rosie, our nightly routine was broken when Rosie gave in to her need for sleep before I could put Baby Girl down in her crib for the night. It was midnight before the sound of windows rattling was replaced by the steady rush of water through the drainpipes. When I laid Georgia down she felt a little warm to me, but I guessed it was from being held close for hours nonstop.

I had no sooner slid between the sheets than my eyes closed and the rest of the world slipped away. Sleep didn’t last long. I knew something was wrong the moment I opened my eyes. The rain had stopped but the room was still dark. A quick glance at the clock told me it would be hours before the sun came up. I was used to waking up to Georgia wailing for a bottle or a clean diaper, but this was different. Instead of a demanding cry, I heard short sputtering puffs of breath. The steady pattern was broken with slow, sad whimpers. I pulled myself out of bed and leaned over the crib. I gently kissed her forehead, trying not to wake her. She was hot to the touch, causing my heart to race.

Back home, I had seen plenty of medical emergencies. There were more broken bones, head bumps, and split knees than any one family should have to endure. But I couldn’t recall any of us ever getting sick with fever, so I didn’t know how to tend to Georgia now. My first thought was to wake Rosie and ask her what to do. But it was the middle of the night and I didn’t want to disturb her only to learn that babies just sleep away their fevers. I rested my backside on the edge of the bed, wrapped my fingers around the crib railing, and leaned forward, pressing my forehead into the slats. I listened to Baby Girl breathe and watched her back rise and fall. When her mournful whimpering grew to a heartbreaking moan, I lifted her from the crib and banged on Rosie’s door.

“Rosie, I need you. Georgia’s sick.”

I heard a click and saw light spread out below her door. The door opened and Rosie came out, squinting into the bright hall light. “What’s wrong?” she asked, and reached out to touch Baby Girl’s head. “This baby is burning up with fever.”

Rosie moved with more determination than I had seen in her in weeks. “This way,” she said and headed down the hall to the kitchen. “You get her out of her clothes, and I’ll fill the sink.”

I did as I was told and a few minutes later, Georgia was soaking in a bath. I scooped water with my free hand and let it run over her. Baby Girl always loves bath time, and kicks and splashes so much that I end up as wet as her. But not this time. Now she lay limp in the water, her arms hanging by her side.

Rosie stood near me. “She didn’t want her bottle when we tried to feed her. Did she take one for you?”

“She only took an ounce or two.”

“We need to get something in her,” Rosie said. “I’ll warm a bottle of sugar water while you finish up here.”

While I sat rocking Baby Girl and trying to coax some water into her, Rosie called the drugstore. It was only the crack of dawn, so no one was there to answer. Wasting no time, she called the pharmacist at home and demanded he do his civic duty and bring us some baby fever medicine. Less than an hour later, he was knocking on the door.

Getting those medicine drops in Georgia was a bigger struggle than the water. So much of it came dribbling out of her, I couldn’t be sure she got the right dose. I spent the rest of the morning rocking, pacing, and trying to get some water into Georgia. When her body started to heat up again, Rosie told me it was time for more medicine and another bath. While I held her in the sink, Rosie examined the bottle to see how much Baby Girl had drank.

Rosie picked up the phone again. “A fever is one thing, but not drinking is something else altogether. It’s time to call Doc Richards and have him come over to take a look at Georgia.”

I could hardly hold back the tears. Why was Rosie calling a doctor to the house? Even when my brother broke his leg falling from the tractor, Mama and Daddy just tied it up, put him in the back of the truck, and took him into town. The only time I ever heard of a doctor making a house call was when Doc Pritchett went to Old Lady Miller’s. They buried her the next day.

What had I done to this little girl? Was that fan too strong for a little one? Why hadn’t I found a clinic for her to get shots, the way Mama did with us? Was God punishing her for me being such a bad daughter and a dishonest friend? Maybe Dottie was right to question my ability to care for this sweet child. My tears started to splash into the bath water. Rosie put down the phone and came over and gave me a hug.

“Everything’s going to be all right,” she said. “Babies get sick. It’s a part of growing up. I’ve known Doc Richards his whole life. He’ll have Georgia feeling good as new in no time.”

Rosie went back to the phone. It seemed like the nurse who answered the call didn’t see eye to eye with Rosie. But Rosie didn’t back down. “We will not bring a sick baby out into the world. You tell the doctor who is calling. You remind him that I was his mama’s best friend on Earth, and I still remember changing his diapers. Tell him I expect to see him at my door shortly.”