“Your sisters?” Betty lifted a kettle off of a burner before she turned, eyebrows raised in concern. “What’s the trouble, hon? Summer doin’ okay? I know she’s had a pretty tough time, startin’ all over and all.”
“She’s doing okay, as far as I know.” Inspired, Mirabella gave another laugh and embellished it with a touch of embarrassment, hoping it would be enough to account for the blush. “I’ve just been…well, I’ve been dreaming about her lately. Evie, too. A lot.”
Granny Calhoun cried, “Hah!” Betty smiled and picked up a wooden spoon and went back to skimming.
Relieved at the success of her diversion, Mirabella let out a breath and muttered, “Not that I’m superstitious.” Well, she never had been in her life, before. Since coming to live in the South, and the way things had worked out with her and Jimmy Joe, and then Troy and Charly, she’d had to rethink some of her former convictions.
Granny Calhoun gave a little jerk and laughed suddenly, a sound like a twig scratching on a windowpane. She pointed a crooked finger at Jess and said, “My sister Effie-that’s your great-aunt Eufemia-thought she had the second sight, you know. You ask me, she just liked the attention it got her. All that stuff is just a bunch of hooey, anyway.” She gave a snort and went back to stemming berries. After a moment she peered up at Mirabella, turtlelike, from her osteoporotic crouch. “Dreams, now. Just means you can be expectin’ a visit sometime soon. That’s all that is.”
Over at the sink, Jess nudged her mother with an elbow and said slyly, “Hey, Granny, I thought all that was just a bunch of hooey.” Mirabella hid her smile.
Granny Calhoun said nothing, taking her time picking out a particularly nice ripe berry and putting it in her mouth. She ate it with soft, sucking noises, then delicately spat out the husk into her hand. “There’s hooey,” she said, “and then there’s fact. You dream about somebody, they’ll be a’visitin’ soon, and that’s a fact.”
“Summer’s coming for the party,” said Mirabella. “Does that count?”
But Granny Calhoun had lost interest and was searching through the berries for another that looked good enough to eat.
“You ever get ahold of Evie?” Betty asked as she tossed the wooden spoon into the sink and reached for a clean, scalded jar.
Mirabella shook her head. “I’ve left messages on her machine. She’ll get around to me when she gets back from wherever she’s gone off to, I guess.”
“She’ll be comin’,” Granny Calhoun croaked suddenly. “You can bet on it. Mark my words.”
“Who’s comin’?” Troy asked as he and Jimmy Joe clomped into the kitchen, leaving a disappointed Bubba whining outside the screen door. Jimmy Joe came to lean on the back of Mirabella’s chair and drop a kiss onto the top of her head while Troy carried his plastic grocery sack over to the counter.
Granny Calhoun lifted one frail arm to point at Troy and instructed, “Pour some’a that cola in a bowl and let it go flat. You want it flat to settle the stomach.”
Troy said, “I will, Granny,” and then asked his mother in a soft aside, “Where is she? Still throwin’ up?”
“Umm-hmm.” Her hands full, Betty used her head to point the way. Troy gave a worried sigh and headed for the stairs.
“Who’s comin’?” Jimmy Joe softly inquired of the back of Mirabella’s neck.
Breathless and prickly, she had opened her mouth to reply when Granny’s gnarled, blue-veined hand suddenly clamped onto her forearm. “Don’t you fret,” the old lady chirped, berry-stained lips curving in a smile of innocence belied by the crafty gleam in her sharp old eyes. “I’m gon’ keep your secret for you, don’t you worry.”
Mirabella’s breath exploded in a gust. Jimmy Joe straightened up and said, “What secret?”
Over at the sink, Jess sang out, “Hah-I knew it Granny’s never been wrong yet.”
Betty made an exasperated noise and muttered, “Mama, for Lord’s sake.”
Jimmy Joe said, “What secret’s she talkin’ about?”
Granny Calhoun cast her eyes demurely downward and turned her fingers at her lips, pantomiming turning a key in a lock.
“Marybell?” Jimmy Joe’s hands were gentle but insistent on her shoulders.
Trapped.
But fate must have been on her side, because at that moment, Bubba rose up from his post beside the screen door and launched himself down the porch steps in full cry. Out on the lawn, the excited yells of children blended with the clatter and thump of a badly tuned engine. The unmistakable smell of burning petroleum products drifted into the kitchen.
Mirabella gulped out a laugh and sprang to her feet “Summer’s here!” she cried, and brushing a kiss across her husband’s perplexed half smile, she went out to greet her youngest sister, her heart pounding with relief and a certain guilty excitement.
Chapter 2
“Happy anniversary!” Summer sang as Mirabella hugged her. “I can’t believe it’s been a year.”
“Yeah, I know, I was just thinking the same thing. Mmm, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you were able to get away.”
“Me, too.” Summer broke the hug and held her older sister, tinier by at least a head, at arm’s length. “You look great.” She looks tired, she thought. I hope everything’s all right.
“And how are the little darlings?”
Summer winced and bit back a defensive retort. Sure, the kids had been a bit difficult, and with everything they’d gone through, who could blame them? But-she took a deep bream-Bella was Bella. Yes, she could be judgmental at times, especially when it came to other people’s kids, and Summer couldn’t deny the twinges of hurt. But it was her sister’s anniversary, and the last thing she wanted was to quarrel. She owed Bella and her family so much, and not just the money for the judgment, either. Without their help and acceptance…
She took a breath and said evenly, “They’re doing okay. David intemalizes, Helen vents-that’s about normal for them.”
Her sister made a little grimace, using her fingers to rake a wave of hair back from her face. “Sumz, I’m sorry.”
So easily the pain was erased. Summer laughed and touched the smear of purple on her sister’s temple. “Hey, look-I know they’re monsters, okay? Forget it-help me bring stuff in from the car.”
“Car? That’s using the term loosely,” Mirabella muttered as they approached the old clunker. Already back in form, she had her nose wrinkled up and was looking alarmed, as if she thought the oxidation and blotches of rust on the Oldsmobile’s greemsh-blue paint job was some sort of disease that might be caught by her shiny silver Lexus.
“Hey, I’m just glad it runs.” Summer had wrenched open the back door and was gathering up the detritus of a three hour car trip with a nine-year-old and a five-year-old-coloring books and broken crayons, David’s tattered gray “bunny” blankie, Helen’s fearsome-looking rubber lizard, and assorted pillows, Gameboy cartridges, shoes and socks.
She reached between the front seat backs and took a paper grocery sack from the passenger seat and peered anxiously into it The African violet had survived the trip, she saw with relief. She handed it to Mirabella with a careless “Here, this is for you and Jimmy Joe. Happy anniversary.” But her chest was tight and her cheeks burned with shame. Her sister’s first wedding anniversary, and all she had to give her was a two-dollar plant from the flower department at Winn Dixie.