"Not particularly," Ruby Bee conceded as she struggled with another yawn that darn near dislocated her jaw. "Do you think you can take Baby over to your house this afternoon? I've got to inventory my napkins and paper products, and I'm way off schedule 'cause Dahlia didn't come in last night."
"Did she call in sick?"
"Nope, not a peep. I know she's likely to have been in the shed with Kevin when God passed out the brains, but I was a mite disappointed with her. Thursday night's not a busy night, and I really did plan to leave her out front so I could go in the back room to count napkins and paper products. I need to put in an order before the weekend. What about you taking Baby?"
"I would if I could, but I absolutely have to redo Elsie's perm. She's been squealing about how she looks like Shirley Temple, and I've got to admit you can see a passing resemblance if you squint."
"Can't you put the crib in your bedroom?"
"Can't you put the crib in your storeroom?"
The two looked at each other for a while, then both turned to look at the sweetest little thing you've ever seen, who was turning red and screwing up his mouth in preparation to howl.
"You know," Ruby Bee said, deftly inserting a bottle into the baby's mouth, "this precious punkin does have a pappy out there who loves him. If Arly never finds Robin Buchanon, someone's going to have to take Baby and give him a home. It'd be criminal to deprive his pappy of the chance to raise him and wait up till all hours when he's out drinking beer with his friends."
Estelle climbed on a stool and nodded. "Downright criminal. I think we owe it to the little angel to help Arly find the father. We could even learn the identities of the fathers of the other children-just in case." She wiggled her eyebrows, not wanting to alarm Baby with the dire scenario.
"I'm sure Arly'd be real grateful. I don't know exactly how to go about it, though. Robin did have a reputation for…having a lot of friends." Ruby Bee wiggled her eyebrows, too. "Men friends."
"She sure did. She must have known half the county-and in the Biblical sense, if you follow my drift. I don't see how we can find out who all was blessed enough to father any of the children."
The baby bottle now depleted, Ruby Bee wearily took the stool next to her. "Me neither. It ain't like we can go over to the county hospital and ask to see the birth certificates. I have a hard time seeing Robin in a hospital bed with a doctor hovering over her. She'd have had a midwife-if she had anything at all. It's just as likely that she dropped the younguns while hoeing potatoes in the field. Might not have even noticed at the time, for that matter."
"But that's a beginning," Estelle said, straightening up. "What's a beginning, for Pete's sake? Searching potato fields?"
"The midwife out on the county road. We could ask her if she went to Robin's cabin to assist in the delivery of any of the babies. Then, if she says she was there, we can ask if Robin said anything about who the fathers were. That's a fine idea of yours, Ruby Bee. I'm right proud of you for coming up with it."
"I suppose so," Ruby Bee said with a sigh. "I just hope Arly doesn't get all hot and bothered and commence to thinking we're interfering again. She like to have had steam coming out her ears last time."
"We're not trying to find Robin Buchanon; we're just making discreet inquiries about the fathers. It's not even near the same thing as interfering in one of her so-called police investigations. After all, if fathering a bastard was a crime in Stump County, the jail'd be so jampacked that the convicts would have to make reservations to serve their time."
"I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe I'm having one of those premonitions like Madam Celeste has all the time, but I don't know if we're doing the right thing."
"Now, Ruby Bee, just look at that sweet sleepy baby. Doesn't he deserve to grow up with a loving pappy to take care of him? Besides, we'll just hop in my station wagon and run out to the midwife's house to ask. She's such a senile ole granny that she most likely won't be able to tell us anything. There's no point in acting all mystical and muttering under your breath like a psychic with laryngitis. Get your Closed sign and hang it on the door. We'll wrap up Baby and take him with us, and we'll all three be back in less than an hour. It can't hurt anything."
Ruby Bee nodded, but she was still having Severe Misgivings.
If I thought nothing ever happened in Maggody (and that theory was on the moth-eaten side by this time), I hadn't realized the extent of true nothingness. It was moderately amusing at first. I parked a good ways from the dope patch, and spent most of two hours lugging equipment from the four-wheel to a spot I felt was distant enough not to be seen should the weekend gardeners appear. I pitched a pup tent, unrolled my sleeping bag, lined up the cans of soup like little tin soldiers, spread out my gear, and generally got myself organized.
By then it was blacker than the inside of a cow, so I fixed a pan of soup on my stove, then crawled into the tent and dined on vegetable-beef and saltines while reading by flashlight. I didn't worry too much about someone seeing the faint light in the middle of nowhere, because no one would be dumb enough to approach the patch in the dark. The only person dumb enough to do that was sitting in a pup tent on the back side of Cotter's Ridge having an intimate experience with Campbell's finest. At some point I felt the need to put on heavy wool socks, and a little bit later a pair of gloves. Finally, dressed in every item of clothing I'd brought, I got into the sleeping bag and shivered until I fell asleep, reminding myself that this was my brilliant idea and that I was doing it for all the right reasons.
Hammet managed to delay the reunion for several hours, first by bursting into tears and wailing so loud that David Allen pulled over to the side of the road. Hammet then allowed how he jest couldn't face his siblings 'cause they would be so fuckin' upset it'd set him off again. He agreed that something to eat might help, and tried not to grin all the way down to Ruby Bee's Bar and Grill. For some odd reason it was closed, so David Allen offered to take him home for a quick sandwich and a soda.
That were even better, Hammet decided, letting his face crumple up again for good measure. Big tears rolled down his checks while he tried to figger out how to stay away from that thin-lipped ole bitch's house as long as possible.
"Look at all these here houses," he said admiringly as they drove through the subdivision. "Do you know all them what lives in 'em?"
"No, just the ones next to me. You do realize we're going to have something to eat, then go straight to Mrs. Jim Bob's house, don't you? I promised Arly that I'd break the news to everyone, and I feel guilty about the delay."
"Arly wouldn't mind. She's real nice about that sort of thing. Don't you think she's a right nice lady?" Hammet stole a quick look from under his brow. "And knockers-she's better built than a sow what's suckling a dozen babies. And she can cook real good, too, and she never talks dirty unless'n she's mad."
David Allen parked in his driveway and gestured for Hammet to get out of the wagon. "I can see you're smitten with her, but don't you think she's too old for you?" he asked as they went into the house.
"I never said she weren't old as the hills." Hammet wandered around the living room, examining the crumpled beer cans and old pizza boxes while his host went on to the kitchen. "You happen to be married?"
"Once upon a time I happened to be married. In fact, I have a little boy a few years younger than you. I'm fixing bologna and cheese-you want mustard or mayonnaise?"