Signed, Skye Harper (5 page)

He swung that ol’ thing around when I stepped onto the porch, Thelma close on my heels.

“Stay,” I said to her, closing my best friend in the house, and to Steve I said, “Give me that,” and leaped down the stairs, hip-hopping my way to where he sat when I caught a pebble under my heel.

He grinned and got to his feet faster than I thought possible. “Why should I?”

I planted my hands on hips. “Are you kidding? What do you mean, why should you? You should because that’s my underwear.”

In the gray light of morning, I could see my underclothing looked a little shabby. Did it smell like cherry vanilla ice cream? Sweat? Thelma?

“You’re different,” Steve said, and handed the bra to me like his finger was a hook.

“Pardon me?” I wasn’t sure what to do with the article of clothing, so I hung the bra on the door knob. Thelma looked out the living room window, paws on the sill. Her nose was pressed to the screen.

Steve shrugged then sat back down. He looked so, I
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don’t know, at home. So . . . pretty. Something in my heart twisted. I was glad for the pale light. I didn’t want him to see that I loved him. Could he tell? If he looked hard enough, could he tell?

“Other girls would have screamed and chased me and made me hold that over my head so they could get it back.”

“I see,” I said, nodding. “Do you want me to do that? Chase you?” I thought of Angel not diving into the pool on her own. Was there something wrong with me? Something a momma could have bred into me that a grandmother had not?

“No. This is good,” Steve said. “You being you.” He leaned forward and then patted the chair next to him. “We can talk maybe?” He licked his lips, and without meaning to, I started to lick my own. Then stopped. Was that normal? Un-normal?

“For a minute,” I said, after considering. “My nanny may not appreciate early-morning visitors.” I sat on the other Adirondack, my butt on the edge of the wood. “You be ready to run if I say so.”

Steve gave me a bit of a nod. “Okay then,” he said.
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48

Will the Surprises Never Stop?

The sun rose and we talked.

Past chickens getting up, we talked.

Past Thelma wanting to go out, we talked.

We talked all the way till Nanny came out on the front porch and handed us both biscuits made into sandwiches with fried ham, surprising all three of us, I think.

“Steve,” she said, then handed us both a glass of milk, too. “I thought I heard you. You look like your daddy. Except for the hair.”

“Thank you, Miss Jimmie,” Steve said, and I could see he’d talked to her more than he ever had to me. Before today, I mean. At work, maybe? “I love these biscuits of yours.”

Nanny nodded. “I remember.” She grabbed up my bra then gave me the evil eye. Then she slipped back inside, peeking back only once over Thelma, who still watched us, a long bit of drool dangling from her black lips.
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49

Nothing

He didn’t kiss me good-bye.
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50

Nothing at All

And, man, I wanted him to.

Bad.
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51

Truths?

“We’re leaving,” Nanny said when I came inside. And then: “Don’t you get too used to that boy. You know his daddy is a heartbreaker. I bet that runs in the genes.”

I didn’t answer.

“And the next time he comes to visit you before the rise of the sun, I’m gonna skin both your hides. Especially if I find you underclothed again.”

I flopped next to Nanny where she sat with her crossword puzzle and a steaming cup of coffee. No lipstick print. She must not be going into Leon’s today. At least not the morning shift.

“No you won’t,” I said. “I can see you like him.”

Nanny pointed at me with her pen. She always does crossword puzzles in ink. And if a word doesn’t fit, she makes it. She finishes every puzzle. “I know young crushes,” Nanny said. “We Fletchers are notorious for young crushes. I been there. I know what it feels like.
And
I know where it could end up.”

I raised my eyebrows.

She let out a sigh. “I have to tell you, I was pretty surprised to see him on my front porch.”

I lowered my eyebrows.
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Nanny put the paper away and tucked the pen behind her ear. “Those Simmons boys are charmers,” she said. She was almost smiling, looking sort of guilty. “But they got their troubles and all the good looks in the world can’t fix that.”

Outside, Denny crowed three times, one after the other. He always does, rain or shine, at nine thirty in the morning.

“We got troubles,” I said. Only not too loud.

“What’s that?” Nanny had moved close enough I could smell her coffee breath.

“We got our own troubles, Nanny, and we aren’t good-looking like they are.” I stared at the built-in bookcase next to the fireplace. There were rows and rows of Reader’s Digest books. I’d read all of them, twice.

Now Nanny raised
her
eyebrows. “I beg to differ,” she said. She gestured at a photo of Momma, one she had sent a couple of years back for Christmas, that Nanny hung over the television. I might be mad at her, but my momma is beautiful. “You get your gorgeous looks from a long line of southern women.”

“Sure.” I tried not to sigh.

“Don’t sass me now.”

I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. “I’m not.”

“Your blond hair with all those curls, the green eyes and”—she paused—“attributes? From me.” Nanny waved at the picture.

“You got black hair,” I said.
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Nanny ignored my comment. “Little bones, small feet, nice eyebrows? From your father’s mother.”

“Who?”

“We don’t speak about her.” Nanny got up and went to the back door. “Denny,” she called. She stood waiting, but the waiting didn’t stop her talking none. “You don’t see your good looks cause you don’t brush your hair gazing in the mirror, do you?”

Again, I didn’t answer. How did she know that?

“You got that from me too. The me from long ago. And you wear the same clothes till the fronts are stained and the back has butt prints from sitting on the ground. Your momma did the same thing. Trust me on this one. That boy was your first kiss ’cause you are beautiful, Winston.”

She knew! She knew Steve had kissed me! How?

How?

Denny hopped into the house, fluttering his wings a bit as he went, then settled in a little blanket right next to the sofa and in front of the TV so he could watch all our shows with us. Nanny settled beside him so she could pet his head with her pointer finger.

“I do wonder what that boy is doing home. I thought he was off to Europe with his daddy and momma. Sure does make life more difficult.” Nanny stared me down. “Don’t you help with that.”

“No, ma’am,” I said though I had no idea what she meant.
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52

The List

“Start packing,” Nanny said, cigarette dangling from her lips. I’d walked her to the car so she could head off to Leon’s for the evening shift. The Blue Goose rattled like it needed to shake loose extra parts. Thelma stood on one side of me, panting her good-bye, Denny on the other, balancing pretty good in a stiff breeze that meant a storm was coming. “Keep it light.”

“Nanny—” I said, but she interrupted me.

“Don’t argue. Get up a few cans of dog food, some nonperishables for us, a bag of corn for Denny. The small one. His traveling cage, plenty of newspapers. I expect we’ll be gone two weeks.”

Nanny flicked her cigarette, picked tobacco off her tongue, and shifted the Blue Goose into reverse. The car let out a whine that caused Thelma to tilt her head to one side. The left. Like always.

“I don’t understand. This ol’ thing won’t do us a bit of good. We have to pray just so it gets us to and from work.”

Nanny backed up, and I walked beside the car as it seemed to cry out in pain. She stopped with a good stomp to the brakes. “I’m going to get my daughter, Winston. Like
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I would go after you, if you needed it. Which you never will because you are smarter than Judith Lee.”

“But . . .”

“A few changes of clothes, Winston, we won’t have a lot of room. Maybe your bathing suit. I know you can’t leave that behind. And talk to Wilbur about feeding the hens.” She shifted into drive and the Blue Goose made a jump forward, sputtered, and almost died.

A burst of wind blew past, and Denny fluttered around before settling on his one good foot.

“Don’t forget their leashes.”

Then Nanny was gone, heading down East Lake Drive.

“What is she thinking, Thelma?”

Thelma looked me in the eyes. She smiled. I rubbed at the white marking on her chest. Ran my fingers under her collar.

“She’s up to something,” I said, and the three of us went into the house.
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53

Packing

The storm broke right after I talked to Wilbur, who scrubbed his hand over his face and said, “
You
two going somewhere?” Like that had never happened in our lives. ’Cause it hadn’t. “Sure I’ll take the eggs in trade of feeding them hens.”

Quicklike, I had to close the windows because rain sprayed in on every side of the house, like we were in a blender or something.

Then I set to gathering up everything Nanny had told me to, Thelma so close she kept running into me. She’s a chicken when it comes to lightning and thunder. Even Denny is less chicken than our dog when it comes to storms.

When I went into Nanny’s room, I found her little packed bag on her made bed.

“Nanny, what is in that head of yours?” I said. I felt a little sick to my stomach.

I turned to leave the room, but something caught my eye. On Nanny’s dresser, next to her red lipstick.

My cigar box of postcards and letters from Momma.
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54

Payback

What was
that
doing in here? When had Nanny snuck in my room and gotten it?

I closed my eyes a moment.

Imagined Nanny here at the mirror, putting on lipstick (not that she needs a mirror; she can do it with her eyes closed), these few letters right where she could see them.

Did she read them as many times as I had?

She must
really
miss my momma.

I swallowed, nervous. This meant one thing. Looking at those letters, I knew I had to do what Nanny wanted, because she had always,
always
, done for me.
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55

Reading Material

So.

I’d have to take a few books. I could stow them under the front seat.

I went to my bookshelf and pulled off
Love’s Savage Hot Love
,
The Princess of His Heart
, and
Indian Lover
. I set them in a stack.

Thunder clapped. That’s early September for you. Noisy with fall storms.

Thelma tried to crawl in my lap, scraping my leg with her nails.

“Let me see the books, Thelma,” I said, working around her trembling body. “It’s okay, girl. It’ll be over soon.”

My Forbidden
,
Intertwined
, and
Roses Forever, My Love
were added to the pile.

One more.

Under a Moon So Fine
.

There. Something to do when I wasn’t helping Nanny drive.
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56

For Nanny

I woke to Nanny speaking in my ear.

“We gotta get a move on, Winston. Weather’s cleared. You ready?”

No. No I wasn’t ready to go off. I kept my eyes closed. I wanted to stay here. Where Steve was, in case he visited again in the middle of the night. Or wanted to kiss me by the ocean. Or in his room. I wanted to be able to walk to the beach and swim. Or smuggle myself in the school pool so I could practice.

Plus, I liked being a part of this little family that was missing a mother. And tell me this—why should Momma get to run off anytime she wanted and then come home when she wanted? It wasn’t—

“Winston?”

“I’m ready,” I said, and tossed the sheet off.

I was doing this for my grandmother. All I had to do was remember that.

“Make your bed, sweets, we are off on an adventure.”
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57

Remembrances

When I stepped outside, the earth wet and dripping, I couldn’t quite focus my eyes. I mean, I wasn’t seeing things right. I was in a dream world.

Dreaming.

Again.

I pinched my arm then looked to Nanny and back at the driveway again.

“Don’t say anything,” Nanny said. “I packed us up. Go on and get in.”

“But . . .”

“But nothing,” Nanny said.

Late morning fog settled on the yard, the neighborhood, skimming Wilbur’s roof.

“But . . .”

Nanny stopped by the U-shaped driveway, the Blue Goose looking shiny in the porch light’s reflection. She turned to me. “I know you don’t understand any of this, Winston, but I got to go get my girl.”

Nanny, who never talks in a low voice, not even in church, almost whispered when she spoke. “I begged her not to go. And she went anyway. I promised myself I’d do
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my best to get her back if she ever needed me. It’s been a decade without a visit.” Nanny walked over to me and took hold of my shoulders. “You need to know your mother, Winston, and all that’s good about her. And I need to hug her one more time.”

I dropped my head and after a moment, looked up at my grandmother. “Okay,” I whispered back. Then I went to the Simmonses’ brand-new motor home (the talk of the town), opened the door, and climbed on in.
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58

And So It Begins

I felt like I sat on top of a school bus, only the ride was way more comfortable.

“I bet this uses a lot of gas,” I said when Nanny and I were headed up I-95 toward Jacksonville.