The Peculiar Miracles of Antoinette Martin: A Novel (23 page)

Knitwits occupied the first floor of a redbrick house with a large white porch. Bradford pear trees lined the property, their branches heavy with puffy white flowers. Antoinette could detect a whisper of music, but she didn’t try hard to capture it. Her mother had stopped her from healing MaryBeth, and Antoinette wanted to finish what she started.

MaryBeth’s name went through her mind like a song. She started on a high note, then slid down, flapping her hands with each syllable:
MaryBeth. MaryBeth.

“We’re not going to the Bakery Barn today,” her mother said as she steered Antoinette toward Knitwits.

This was a dilemma. Antoinette wanted to see MaryBeth, but she liked Teelia. Once, at the farmers’ market, Teelia had handed Antoinette Frank’s lead line. The alpaca had hummed softly, then nuzzled her cheek with his soft nose.

Thinking of Frank helped Antoinette decide. She would follow her mother into Knitwits. She could visit MaryBeth when they left.

Teelia bustled out from behind the counter. Bead bracelets and bamboo knitting needles hung from a metal counter display. “Who might this be?” She nodded at Will.

“Will Grayson. At your service.” He executed a little bow.

Teelia bobbed her head. “A gentleman. We don’t get much of that around here.”

“Will’s my neighbor,” Lily said. “He’s down here visiting for a few days.”

“Days. Weeks. Months,” Will said. “Who knows, maybe longer. This place is growing on me.” He looked at Lily as he spoke.

“I thought we’d drop by and finalize plans for the show,” Antoinette’s mother said.

“I have my yarn ready,” Teelia said. “I just need Seth to transport some things to the farm.”

While her mother and Teelia discussed details about the show, Antoinette wandered off. The shop was filled with cubbyholes holding yarn in every color imaginable. A group of women sat at a table in mismatched chairs, knitting and chatting. Their voices formed a soft hum.

“The shop hasn’t changed since I was little.”

Antoinette was surprised to look up and see Lily standing behind her. Anxiety rolled off of her aunt in waves.

“Teelia tried to teach me to knit once,” Lily said, “but I kept dropping my stitches. Your mom was good. I think I still have a scarf she made when she was just about your age.”

Antoinette didn’t like standing so close to Lily, but she didn’t walk away. She liked hearing stories about her mother.

“We used to come here after school when the growing season ended. Our mother would sit with Teelia while Rose and I picked through the yarn. In the time it took me to cast on a row of stitches, your mom would be halfway finished with a scarf or a hat.”

To Antoinette’s consternation, her anger toward her aunt softened. That couldn’t happen, not if she wanted everything to go back to normal. She stomped to the corner of the room, as far away from Lily as she could get.

She would
not
like her aunt. She sat in the corner and twisted her hands in front of her face, letting the voices from the women sitting at the table wash over her. She didn’t budge even when she realized they were talking about her.

“Is she okay?” a woman wearing an orange flowered shirt said.

“Does she need help?” another said.

Antoinette growled.

Then Lily was there. She stood in front of Antoinette, shielding her from the women. She counted to ten and then said, “Rose, it’s time to go.”

“I’ll be right—” Her mother stopped abruptly as the shop door snapped shut.

“I thought I saw you come in here,” Eli said. The scent of cinnamon floated through the air as he hurried over to them.

Antoinette flapped her hands. Eli would take her to MaryBeth. She pushed herself up and walked toward him, but her mother, with Will following, blocked her path.

“Can’t stay to talk today,” her mother said to Eli. Her voice was artificially bright. “We have to get Antoinette back to the farm. She’s not herself right now.”

That wasn’t true. Antoinette was fine.

“Take Antoinette to the car,” she whispered to Lily. Her mother was usually gentle, but this time she shoved Antoinette into Lily’s arms.

No, no, no.
Antoinette screamed and reached for Eli. She needed to see MaryBeth.

“It’s not my place,” Will started, “but maybe—”

“You’re right,” her mother said. “It’s not your place.”

“Will, why don’t you help me?” Lily said. She grabbed Antoinette under the arms.

Antoinette bucked and kicked. Lily started counting, but she held on tight.
No, no, no!
Antoinette wanted MaryBeth.
Let go of me!

“We don’t mind if she’s a little under the weather,” Eli said. “The last time y’all were in town, MaryBeth felt so much better after seeing Antoinette. She had a couple of real good days, but now she’s in a bad way again. Seeing Antoinette would help.”

He peered at Antoinette, and she reached for him. “Why don’t you let me take her? MaryBeth’s having trouble breathing. The doctors say she’ll need a ventilator soon. A visit from this little girl sure would cheer her up.”

Antoinette went still. She knew that healings never lasted, but this one had faded too fast. Something was wrong.

Lily took advantage of Antoinette’s momentary calm to head for the door.

“Next time,” her mother said. She followed Lily but stopped just in front of the door, letting Lily carry Antoinette outside while keeping Eli inside the shop. “I’m so sorry about MaryBeth,” her mother said.

And Antoinette realized it was the only true thing her mother had said since Eli entered the shop.

Chapter Sixteen

The garden show was in a little over a week. Music would be in the drying barn. Art would be in the house garden. Those two venues would be prepared later in the week. Tonight Lily and Will set up tables in the night garden for the food vendors. Rose directed them while Antoinette walked in circles.

As Lily worked, she thought of Eli. He was going to be a problem. Yesterday, at Knitwits, he had stared at Antoinette as if she were a science experiment. She might not be cut out to be Antoinette’s guardian, but she didn’t want harm to come to her.

She was surrounded by puzzles she couldn’t solve. How to patch things up with Rose? How to get out of being Antoinette’s guardian? How to keep Eli away from Antoinette? This was why she liked math—in math, there was always a set solution.

“How about here?” Will asked as he and Lily tugged a table away from the stone wall. He tapped the table twice. He should look out of place in his khakis and polo shirt, but he didn’t.

“Back a little,” Rose said. “Closer to the wall.” She rested on a bench beside the fountain, her portable oxygen tank at her side. That afternoon, she had lost her breath walking from the kitchen to her room. She started carrying the tank after that.

They tugged the table into place and looked to Rose for approval. When she nodded, they moved on to the next table.

To Lily, the night garden felt magical. In addition to the bountiful flowers, concrete benches were scattered throughout the garden, and water trickled from a fountain. Plumes of astilbe swayed in front of the fountain. The plant had airy white flowers that sprouted above the dark green glossy foliage. Astilbe meant . . . Lily couldn’t remember. How could she have forgotten?

Will grabbed one end of the table. “Ready?”

“Wait a minute,” Lily said. “I have to get the Victorian flower book. I’ll be right back.”

By the time she returned, Will had maneuvered the table into place. Still holding the book, Lily moved to help him.

“Go sit down,” Will said. He plucked the book from her hands and tossed it onto the nearest bench, one right next to Antoinette.

“I’ll help,” Lily said.

“And lose this chance to impress you with my manly prowess?” Will said. “No way.”

“You’re incorrigible. You know that?” Lily asked, but she sat down.

“God, I hope so. Where’s the fun otherwise?”

Lily ignored him. She had known what quality astilbe represented years ago when she and her father planted the flowers. She could picture him tamping down dirt around the astilbe, see him scattering mulch over the ground. The flowers were still there; everything else, though, was gone.

“What are you doing?” Rose asked.

They hadn’t had a chance to talk much since Will’s arrival, and Lily hated the tension that had grown between them. Even more, she hated knowing that she would make everything worse when she told Rose she couldn’t be Antoinette’s guardian. “I can’t remember what astilbe means,” she said.

Antoinette started walking in tight circles around the bench where Lily sat, so she turned away. If she didn’t see Antoinette, maybe she wouldn’t start counting.

“Do you think Seth will join us?” Lily tried to sound casual, as if she was just making conversation, but she really did wonder. He hadn’t been around much since Will showed up.

Rose glanced surreptitiously toward Will. “I don’t think so.”

Last night, after they had returned from town, Seth had turned to Will. “You’re staying here, I suppose?” His words were careful, his face expressionless.

“If the ladies will have me,” Will said with a half smile. “I’ll earn my keep. Free physicals for all.” His grin was infectious. Rose and Lily had laughed, but Seth left without saying a word.

A soft breeze ruffled the pages of the flower book. At the sound, Antoinette stopped pacing and moved closer. She seemed intrigued. The book was open to a picture of daisies, and she tapped it three times.

“She wants to know what they mean,” Rose said.

“Innocence,” Lily said, picking up the book but not looking at it.

Antoinette leaned forward and lost her balance. Lily automatically grabbed her before she hit the ground. “You okay?”

Antoinette growled and smacked Lily’s hands.

“Are you sure you weren’t a baby wrangler in a prior life?” Will asked as he pulled a table in place.

“No more than you were a priest,” Lily said.

Antoinette resumed walking in tight circles. When she noticed Lily watching, she growled.

“A priest isn’t out of the question.” Will raised his eyebrows. “A dark confessional booth has possibilities.”

“That’s over the top, even for you.”

Will grinned. “When will you learn, Lils? I’m a man of extremes.”

Lily turned another page. There it was. “Astilbe.
I’ll be waiting
,” she read. “Can’t believe I forgot it.”

LILY DIDN’T RETURN
to the house with everyone else but sat alone in the darkening garden, listening to the sounds around her. Most people thought it was quiet in the country, but they were wrong. Horses called to each other over their stalls. Cicadas buzzed in the trees. Creek water gurgled over rocks.

And now a violin sang in the distance.

Now was as good a time as any to talk to Seth about being Antoinette’s guardian. She stood and followed the stone path to the drying barn. Pieces of a melody floated through the early-evening air, and she pictured Seth, eyes closed, violin under his chin, swaying as he skimmed the bow across the strings.

When she reached the barn, a faint beam of light shone beneath the door. Quietly, she eased it open.

He stood at the far end of the barn, his back to her, a single light shining down on him. Even if Lily had wanted to look elsewhere she couldn’t. She had missed hearing him play, missed watching him transform into someone carefree.

Their first kiss had happened here in the drying barn, and she flashed back to that day. It was autumn, and they were both sixteen. Sunlight filtered through cracks in the old wood slats, and the air was crisp with the scent of wood smoke. Seth took off his jacket and spread it over a straw bale.

“I thought we were going hiking,” Lily said as he pulled her down next to him.

He picked up a twig and scratched lines on the dirt floor. “I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“About what?” She leaned against his shoulder.

“Do you think God has a reason for all of this?”

She was used to his odd questions. Last week they had been sitting on the rock that rose out of the middle of the creek when he said, “What if this is all a dream?”

“If it is,” Lily had said, thinking of her need to number everything, “it’s not a very good one.”

Now she frowned at him. “All of what?”

“This.” He waved the stick in the air, indicating her, the barn, everything. “I’ve been thinking that maybe my dad is . . . you know, the way he is, for a reason. Maybe something good will come from it.” He drew three parallel lines in the dirt.

Lily thought for a moment. If God had a purpose, she didn’t see it. “I don’t know,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I think things are just the way they are—whether for bad or for good, there’s no reason—and you learn to live with it.”

Seth frowned and Lily could almost see him considering her words. He had always been serious, sometimes too much so. He tossed the stick aside and ran his foot across the dirt, smearing the lines.

“The whole town knows about my dad,” he finally said. “That’s what most people see when they look at me. At least the bad parts, anyway. No one talks about the person he is when he isn’t drinking.”