The Book of CarolSue Read online

  He cut me off. “Miss CarolSue, you’re the one doesn’t want me to come?”

  The little watering cans on the kitchen wallpaper were tipped at an angle. I was just as off balance. “Uh, no, I mean, that’s not up to me, I just wanted to let you know that—”

  “You just tell Miss Louisa I’ll be dropping by. She’ll be fine. Won’t stay long if she’s too tired. Just need to see her beautiful face.” And he hung up.

  “Sister!” I screeched. “We’ve got a problem.”

  Louisa and I did a frazzled rush job of moving all the baby’s things into the master bedroom, so my bedroom door would be open and everything would look normal in there, as it always did. I’d voted for just keeping my door shut, but Louisa said he would be likely to bring the new hinges for my closet door, and if he had, he’d want to go check that they’d fit, even if he didn’t insist on swapping them out instantly, which would be like him. Then we checked the living room and kitchen for baby signs, Jessie following us around, curiously thinking it all a great hide-and-seek game, and Marvelle perched on top of the wingback chair in the living room, being disdainful about all the fuss. Louisa had been keeping the back door shut lately, so the free-ranging girls didn’t roam into the house as they had before Jessie’s time. Marvelle ignored the chickens, but Jessie was flummoxed as to why they got all riled up when she tried to play with them. Personally, I was grateful that line had been drawn, and didn’t much care why they were outside with Rosie. Louisa said there was something seriously wrong with me.

  “You’re going to need to take Gracie somewhere,” she said. “In your car. I’ll be rid of Gus as soon as I can. I’ll go put the carrier in your car, buckle it in the right way, in the back. You give the house another once-over, make sure everything is in . . . the room.” With that, Louisa picked up Gracie’s carrier and went out the front door to my car. Carrying Gracie, I hurriedly changed her from a sun suit to a onesie, scanned each room, found my purse, and went out. I thought to take a spare diaper with me, and the bottle with the last few ounces she hadn’t finished earlier. Just in case. “Jessie, you stay. I’ll be back, I promise,” I said, as the Lab tried to come out the door with me. I’d miss her when I moved back to Atlanta.

  We’d barely made it out. I guess it had taken longer than we thought to put everything away and ready Gracie. Down the road toward the Athertons’ as I was driving away from the house, I passed Gus. I don’t think he realized who I was—probably too hot to get his paws on my sister—but I knew him. Needless to say I didn’t honk and wave.

  I drove around for ten minutes, hoping Louisa was good for her word and Gus hadn’t talked her into a quick nap. But when I circled by the house again, there was Gus’s truck. That homicidal impulse I’ve mentioned feeling toward my sister? It was suddenly there again.

  I needed a place to go, plain and simple. So, being the sensible one, I went.

  Yes, I was careful. I went where nobody would know me, or at least it was very, very unlikely I’d run into anyone who would recognize me. Louisa could just stew, I figured, if Gus left and she didn’t know I’d taken Gracie to Elmont, to the big store I could never remember the name of, but knew it has groceries on one side, clothes, home goods, and everything else on the other. I’d put the baby in a cart and walk around. Maybe I’d buy her some toys. For sure, I was going to buy myself a coffee and pastry, because don’t you know they have a little sit-down place by the deli part of the grocery store. At least I hoped they still did as I drove there. Gracie was lulled into a happy quiet, enjoying the ride, and I put the radio on the oldies station and sang to her all the way.

  By the time Gracie and I left, we’d had a fine time. She’d finished up that bottle I’d brought while I had some coffee and a nice bran muffin, I’d changed her in the bathroom where there was even a baby-changing place, how lovely, and then she and I hit the baby department and had ourselves a grand shopping spree. I could barely push the cart through the checkout line. “Ha. Wait till Louisa sees what we picked out! Good thing I’m your fashion consultant and not her,” I confided as I buckled her into her carrier in the car.

  I put the toys, the big box with the bassinet, the changing pad, and clothes in the trunk.

  “Now you’re a better equipped young lady,” I told her. “And you pay no attention when Louisa has a cow. Let her have two of them. After all, she’s got every other kind of animal on that farm. Why not some cows?” I reached into the back seat as I said the last and went “Moo, cow, mooooo,” and tickled her. And I swear, that baby grinned. Her first big, wide, for-certain grin: eyes, mouth, whole-face-full-of-delight grin. And it was at me.

  * * *

  “Where have you been?” Of course, I knew it would be the first thing Louisa said. I have to admit, twilight had fallen. She called it as she stepped out onto the porch, and Jessie ran out from behind her to meet me as I got Gracie out of the car. Louisa waited, a faded figure, outlined by the lights on in the house, the door standing open behind her.

  I walked up with Gracie and handed the carrier to her. “Went to the big store—what is it, I never remember, and I was just there—in Elmont.”

  “Meyer’s. Why?”

  “Don’t know why I can’t ever remember that name—”

  “Why did you go there?” All impatient.

  “I needed somewhere to go. I drove around a while and Gus was still here.” I knew I hadn’t driven around very long, but she didn’t. It was a calculated guess about what had happened. And I must have guessed right, at least partly, because she backed down some.

  “Oh. Was it . . . okay? I didn’t think you’d be gone that long.”

  “It was great. She grinned. At me.”

  “She’s young for that,” Louisa said, skeptical.

  “I think I know what I saw. I bought a few things. I need to get them in. Keep her a few minutes while I unload.”

  “I’ve got some dinner ready,” she said, motioning to the kitchen. “It’s really late now, you must be starving. I sure am. Gus was hinting to stay, big-time, but I put him off. Gary better get this taken care of.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Or you could break up with Gus.” I muttered that last part under my breath as I went out the door to start carrying in baby supplies. I wondered how long it would take my sister’s head to explode when she saw what I’d bought.

  * * *

  “What the hell are you thinking? Did you just buy one of everything in the baby department?” Louisa demanded. We were still sitting at the table, and she’d fixed some special tea to go with dessert, which usually meant she was celebrating something or totally pissed off. I was betting on the second. She had managed to hold her tongue until after we ate, but I think it was just because she was too tired, hungry, and wasn’t going to fuss in front of the baby. And, this’ll shock you, she’d let me set up the bassinet, which was really like a hugely oversized basket, in the master bedroom, because all the baby’s stuff was already in there. I put the changing pad I’d bought on the bed, and the big basket-bassinet, which had conveniently come with its own bedding, on the floor instead of setting up the legs that would raise it to the height of my waist and make it look more long-term, which I thought would freak Louisa out even more. I shoved those under the bed.

  Now Gracie had been fed, we’d eaten the vegetable (what else?) and pasta casserole Louisa had kept warm until I got home, and Gracie had been washed and changed and put down for the night, easy baby that she was, and Louisa was letting loose. I’d seen it coming, the way you can watch an incoming storm linger in the western sky and make educated guesses about when the thunder and lightning is going to break over your head.

  “I wasn’t sure it was a good idea for her to sleep in that baby carrier pretty much sitting up,” I said. “You know, babies are supposed to sleep on their backs now,” I tried.

  “Bless your heart, like one more day before she goes back to her mother was going to make a difference? I gave Gary a deadline. To-mor-row.” She arched h
er eyebrows at me and gave her steely teacher-look, the one that says, And what do you have to say for yourself now?

  “All of it can go with her to help her mother. Whatever her mother doesn’t want or need, can be donated to Goodwill. Or Gary’s church. There are a lot of people in need.”

  “Huh,” she said, raising and lowering her eyebrows and then narrowing her eyes, clearly wanting to say it again. I never should have taught her the Southern meaning. She couldn’t help herself, out it came again, Louisa calling bullshit with, “Bless your heart.” She just couldn’t quite figure out my angle.

  Honestly, I didn’t know myself.

  Chapter 12

  Rosalina

  She would not let herself cry, though the milk still leaking from her breasts made her feel as if her body was, despite her will. What kind of mother would not sacrifice to save her child, she said to herself. She told herself maybe she could go back to get her baby. When it was safe, maybe. If it was safe.

  This was best for now. There were other women who’d crossed alone. What happened to their babies? If their plant was raided, were they given a phone call? Rosalina didn’t know the Reverend’s number, anyway, only where she’d gone when she’d first made it north. And even if she did reach the Preacher Garry, would he believe her? And meanwhile, what would happen to Gracia, even if he believed her and made the trip to get the daughter he’d never known of? He wouldn’t have the papers to claim her. Rosalina had kept Gracia’s birth certificate on her own body since she’d received it. That, and now the precious social security card.

  The kind, dark-skinned nurse at the hospital who said she was from Haiti “long time ago,” had helped her fill out the forms. “Don’t be scared, honey. Nobody gonna come into a hospital,” Esther said. As if she knew. “It’s okay. Your baby’s gonna have a birth certificate, and this, see here, it’s an application for a social security card—see, she’ll have that number her whole life, it’s real important. I can help you fill this out, too. Do it all the time.” She’d been the one who’d shown Rosalina how to help Gracia latch on to nurse, counseled her to include some bottles if Rosalina was going back to work, “so she’ll accept a bottle, don’t you know, honey, and won’t fuss if she can’t have the breast sometimes.” She’d held Rosalina’s hand, told her she was doing a fine, fine job, and Rosalina had wished so much she could stay and have Esther take care of her.

  But then Esther had two days off, and Rosalina was dismissed anyway. Rosalina knew better than to think something that good would last for someone like her, not something she’d lucked into. She wanted to believe in good signs, but she didn’t, not really. Nothing happened on its own, she’d learned, despite what the priest had always said about God’s will being done. If a person didn’t make it happen, it didn’t, for good outcomes and for bad, which was why she’d been willing to take her chances crossing the border when her father said she had to escape. The rapes, beatings, killings. Women had no chance, he said. Not even in her own home. It was his only way to protect her. Even her own brother was gone to drugs, to a gang. “Do it, go. Go. Go. I have paid,” he’d said. He made it happen. He used to toss her in the air when she was small, and she’d scream with laughter, never fear. He would always stop her from falling to danger. Even if it meant never seeing her again.

  She couldn’t do less for her own child.

  She’d had to leave her beautiful Gracia the way she did. Gracia’s father must be a good man, yes, a man of God. A man of faith, who would see a girl to safety, give her school, a home. Gracia wouldn’t live week-to-week in a dark apartment shared with recent strangers in a strange land, all trying to find a way to a new life, all risking everything every day. Gracia was protected, she’d be cared for, Rosalina told herself, again and again. Did that mean she didn’t weep? Did it lessen her loss? She comforted herself with the thought of holding her baby, told herself, If it’s safe, I’ll go get her. When it’s safe.

  Gary

  He didn’t want to risk going over to his mother’s, although he’d promised he would. What if she said she wouldn’t keep the baby anymore? He’d asked for two days, though, and that meant tomorrow, didn’t it? He knew he should at least call.

  Maybe he should check with Gus first, and he’d find out that Gus already knew exactly where Rosalina was. The whole thing could be cleared up in a nanosecond, the baby returned where she belonged, and that would be that. He wondered if Rosalina would want child support. That would be tough to manage, and keeping the whole secret, too. He didn’t want to see her. Embarrassed that he’d ever fallen into lust the way he had when he was supposed to be doing God’s work, not that he hadn’t felt for her. He had. He shook his head to clear it, his thoughts thick and lumpy as his mother’s tapioca, which he’d always shoved away from his place at the table.

  From his desk at the barn that was passable as a church now, Gary used his cell phone to call the sheriff. Dispatch answered. Gary stammered. “Is the . . . sheriff there? Reverend Hawkins calling about a church matter.”

  “Do you require assistance there now?” Her voice was crisp and official-sounding, as if she were ready to send a SWAT team.

  “Oh no, ma’am. This is a nonemergency issue. I just need to talk to Gus.”

  “All right, Rev. Hawkins, I’ll record the request. I’m sure he’ll call as soon as he gets in.”

  Gary hung up and slapped a palm to his face, holding it there. Idiot! He shouldn’t have mentioned the church, just said it was a personal call. He should have asked Gus for his personal cell phone number in the first place, like a thinking person would have, not called the sheriff’s line at all. Now all he could do was wait for Gus to call and hope his mother didn’t. He’d call her when he knew something.

  The day was not starting out well.

  * * *

  A full ninety minutes passed before Gary’s cell phone rang and the screen showed that it was the sheriff’s department. Gary had dithered the time away making almost no more progress on his sermon, when he’d hoped to finish it. But each sentence he tried out seemed dangerous, although there was no way anyone could know, was there? Who could possibly stand up and point at him, shouting Fornicator!

  “Thought you wanted everything unofficial.” Gary flinched at the volume. Gus must put the receiver down and talk into it using a megaphone. That was the only explanation. What if someone was outside Gary’s office door, even now? The Clean for Jesus Committee didn’t come today, did they? They’d be able to hear every word through the door. Gary fumbled on his desk to check his calendar, knocking over the coffee, now cold, he’d brought with him from Sister Martha’s kitchen. It spilled toward him, sopping his sermon notes and all the Old Testament passages he’d found, and rolled forward like a muddy river off the edge of his desk and onto his khaki pants. He jerked backwards in his chair, too hard, and as it teetered on two legs, Gary’s legs and arms flailed. He dropped the phone.

  “Gary? GARY!” Gus boomed. “Can you hear me? Is this a bad connection or what?”

  Gary lurched his body forward to right the chair. Coffee still dripped from the desk, but he could reach the phone, which—and he remembered to thank Jesus for the mercy of it—had fallen clear of the stream. “I’m here, Gus,” he said. “Just spilled a little coffee. Can you hang on a second?”

  “Sure!”

  Gary thought his hearing might be permanently impaired, even though he’d held the phone an inch from his ear. He turned the volume control on his phone way down, set it on his desk, and picked up the saturated pages of his sermon to let the excess coffee run off them. The oversized cup had been two-thirds full because his stomach had been off and it wasn’t going down well. Nerves. He sopped up what he could with tissues, finally laying the pages of his sermon separately on the floor, hoping he’d be able to read enough to re-create his thoughts. Too bad he’d written in pencil on lined yellow paper, like always.

  “Gary! You all right, son?” Even with the volume down, there was no escaping the b
eef of that voice.

  “I’m fine, thanks.” Gary picked up the receiver, and thinking to save his eardrum, switched it to speaker, then remembered he’d not checked on when exactly Clean for Jesus was scheduled, and quickly switched it back off.

  “I thought I’d just check—unofficially, of course—as to whether you had any leads on Rosalina’s whereabouts.”

  “Looked into that last night. Say, your mother all right?”

  “Yes, yes, she’s fine, Aunt CarolSue’s there, of course, they’re both fine.”

  “Seemed awful tired yesterday, and didn’t seem to want supper, which is not like her at all. CarolSue was out when I went over in the afternoon.”

  “You were there?”

  “Stopped by for a visit with Miss Louisa, had myself a break in the day.”

  Oh Lord. Oh Jesus, please. Please. “All by herself, you say. Wonder where CarolSue went?” Feigned a level of interest equivalent to a shrug.

  “Oh, some ladies’ shopping thing, I imagine. You know how they are.”

  Gary didn’t have a clue about ladies’ shopping things, but he figured his mother was going to kill him for sure. CarolSue would be her accomplice. But they couldn’t really do it while the baby was still there, could they? Or maybe they would, and then they’d turn the baby over to Gus, and really, he couldn’t let that happen. What if Gracia really was his? He couldn’t let her end up in some foster home, or orphanage, or whatever they did now with abandoned babies when they knew there was a living parent somewhere. Gracia had to be with her own parent, didn’t she?

  He tried to get back to what he wanted to know. “So . . . were you able to find anything?”

  “No, I don’t know where she went. I left before she got home. Your mother said she was pretty tired, and like I said, she didn’t want supper.”

  Gary thought Gus must be the most aggravating human loudspeaker on the planet.