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“I hardly think it’s necessary to resort to blasphemy,” Clara said stiffly.
Marilee looked from one to the other, wondering if the two women would come to blows. How they’d managed to remain friends all these years made her wonder. “Okay, let’s calm down,” she said. “I’m sure we can work this out. I’ll call another roofer first thing in the morning.”
“And pay him with what?” Ruby asked. “Clara’s good looks?”
Clara glared at her. “That was a low blow, considering you cleaned out your savings account last year on an eyelift and tummy tuck.” The ring of the doorbell prevented Ruby from answering. “Oh, that must be Winnie,” Clara said. “She fell asleep in Ruby’s truck on the way over, and we didn’t have the heart to wake her, poor thing.”
“Who’s Winnie?” Marilee asked.
“You remember, Winnifred Frye from Blessing Home.” Clara didn’t wait for a response. “I’ve been trying to tell you since we arrived, but Ruby wouldn’t stop yammering. Winnie has been staying at my place, but she and the other girl got into a big fuss. You’re going to love her, Marilee.”
“I am?”
“I guess I’m going to have to answer the door, since neither of you look so inclined,” Ruby said, making her way from the kitchen. “You go ahead and break the news to her, Clara.”
“What news?” Marilee asked.
Clara seemed hesitant. “Winnie has no place to stay. I was hoping you’d put her up until we figure out what we’re going to do about Blessing Home.”
“Me? Clara, are you out of your mind? I can’t take care of anyone right now. My life is in shambles.”
“So is Winnie’s. But you have a roof over your head, don’t you? Not to mention a warm bed. That’s all poor Winnie needs. Until we can make further arrangements,” she added. “Besides,” she added with a whisper, “you owe me for not forcing Grady to take one of the girls in when we first started looking for temporary housing.”
Marilee was still embarrassed that Grady had not offered to house a girl while Blessing Home was being restored. True, he’d supported Blessing Home in other ways, taking up separate collections, asking for clothes and nonperishable food, but he’d balked at having an unwed mother in the house. He thought it would be a bad influence on Josh. Marilee wanted to laugh at the irony.
“Which girl was Winnie?” Marilee whispered to Clara. “Was she that petite redhead with the pixie face?”
“I’m Winnie,” a husky voice said. “And I’ve never been petite. Not even when I was born.”
Marilee turned in the direction of the voice and froze at the sight of the tall black woman. She was at least six feet tall, and her shoulders filled the doorway. “Oh.” She forced a smile. “How nice to meet you, Winnie. I’m Marilee Abernathy.”
Winnie responded by blowing a big bubble with her chewing gum. It popped, and she sucked it in. “I know who you are. Didn’t your old man just walk out on you?”
Marilee blushed. Was there anyone in Chickpea who hadn’t heard about her problems? “Well, yes.”
“You don’t have to be ashamed,” Winnie said. “My man left me too. After he knocked me up, that is.”
“Oh, how awful. You must’ve been devastated.”
“Yeah. Killing him would be too good for him, but I’m going to do it anyway if I ever lay eyes on him again.”
Clara suddenly looked anxious. “Please don’t talk like that, Winnie dear. We’re Christians.” She paused. “You don’t…uh…have any weapons on you, do you? I don’t believe in carrying guns.”
“I don’t need a gun. I’ve got my bare hands.”
All three women were quiet for a moment. Finally, Marilee spoke up. “How far along are you, Winnie?”
“Five and a half months. I’ve got a while.”
“Have you eaten?” she asked, wishing she had more to offer the girl than a sandwich. She hadn’t figured on needing many groceries.
“Nope. I’m starving. You got any Twinkies lying around?”
“I’m afraid not. But I have bologna and cheese and a whole loaf of bread.”
“Long as you don’t put those nasty bean sprouts on it,” Winnie said, rolling her eyes. “Clara is big on bean sprouts.”
Marilee looked at Ruby, who was dwarfed beside the young woman. “Would you mind making Winnie a sandwich while I have a word with Clara?”
“Sure.” Ruby turned for the refrigerator.
Marilee grasped Clara’s hand tightly and led her into the bedroom, where she closed the door. “Clara, what on earth are you thinking? I can’t take in this girl.”
Clara shook free. “I was thinking I might get a little peace and quiet, if you want to know the truth. She and the other girl fight constantly. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, because you haven’t been down in the trenches like the rest of us.”
“What are you talking about? I’m the one who had to knock on mean old Esmerelda Cunningham’s door and beg her to give us something for the raffle.”
Clara went on as though she hadn’t heard her. “Oh, you don’t mind making a few phone calls to ask for donations or playing Mozart in front of the ladies to show off your skills as a pianist, if and when it’s convenient for you. But heaven forbid you have to actually open your home to some poor pregnant gal who has absolutely no one to turn to.”
Marilee plopped onto the bed. “That’s not fair, Clara. You know I’d help if I didn’t have so much turmoil in my own life. I have to find a job. Do you know how long it has been since I’ve worked? All I know how to do is sing and play the piano. And bake cakes.”
“Winnie won’t be any trouble. She goes to school every day, and she’s a straight-A student. Plans to attend right up ‘til the baby comes, and as soon as she graduates she’s going to the community college here.” Clara paused. “Marilee, Winnie has never been in trouble in her life. She’s a good girl. Her only mistake was getting involved with a smooth-talking man who hit the road the minute she became pregnant. And her parents—” Clara pursed her lips in annoyance “—God-fearing Christians they are, they kicked her out the minute she told them. Honey, she has no one.”
Marilee pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. What next? she wondered, half-afraid to ask the question in the first place, in case she was in for another shocker. Her family had left her, they’d been kicked out of the church, she’d missed playing for the benefit luncheon, Esmerelda Cunningham was threatening to send her to jail and now Clara wanted her to take in an unmarried, pregnant girl.
And to think that a few days ago her life had been relatively normal.
“Oh, Clara,” she cried, shaking her head.
“Listen to me, Marilee. You know what it’s like to be rejected by those you love. That’s exactly what Winnie’s feeling right now, although she’d cut her tongue out before admitting it. She’s just a kid. Seventeen years old. Not much older than Josh.”
Marilee wanted to hide her head under a pillow and not have to think about it. How could she help someone else’s child when she hadn’t been able to help her own? How could she not? “Well, I suppose I could take her in for a couple of days,” she said at last. “Until other arrangements can be made. You realize I can’t make any long-term plans right now.”
Ruby appeared in the doorway. “Winnie said to thank you for the sandwich, but she had to be on her way. She took her sandwich with her.”
Marilee looked up. “On her way where?”
Ruby shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
“And you let her get away?” Clara cried.
“What was I supposed to do? She’s twice my size.”
“She can’t just leave,” Marilee said, jumping from the bed. “She has no place to go.”
Clara made a tsking sound. “I should have known something like this would happen. That girl can be downright ornery. Come on, Ruby, we’ll have to go after her.”
“I’ll go,” Marilee said, hurrying out of the room. She slammed out the front door. A moment later, she spotted Winnie; it would have been hard to miss her considering her size. “Winnie, wait!” she cried. “You can’t go.” The girl continued on. Marilee sped up. “Winnie, please don’t go.”
The girl turned as Marilee caught up with her and stopped so abruptly Marilee almost slammed into her. “What do you want?”
“Please don’t leave.”
“Look, lady, I may be black, broke and pregnant, but I’m not stupid, okay? I can tell when I’m not wanted.”
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
“Hurt my feelings?” Winnie gave a snort. “You can’t hurt my feelings. Nobody can. I’ve got a thick skin, but I’m thin on patience. And I don’t feel like listening to some white woman bellyaching ‘cause her husband left her. I’ve got my own problems, thank you very much.” She turned and began walking again.
Marilee stood there, aghast. Here she’d been trying to help the girl, only to be insulted. “Excuse me,” she called out, “but I am not grieving over my husband. I’m upset because my son left with him. And don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of wimp, because I’m not. I’m a lot stronger than you think.” She was only vaguely aware that the day had turned cold and a fine mist was falling. “Hello,” she called out angrily.
Winnie turned. “Listen, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to be somewhere.”
“Today? Right this minute?”
“It’s important.”
It was starting to rain. “Perhaps you could stay the night. You need to get out of this wet weather. It can’t be good for the baby.”
The girl seemed to ponder it. “Okay,” she said with a great deal of reluctance. “I suppose I can stay one night, but I definitely have to be somewhere tomorrow.”
“Fine. You can spend the night, and tomorrow I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”
“As long as you don’t start crying again. I can’t be around negative people in my condition.”
Marilee tried not to take offense at the remark as they started back for the house. “Do you like hot chocolate? It’ll chase the chill away.”
“Yeah, and may I have another sandwich? I’m not crazy about bologna, but I’m eating for two now, you know.”
Marilee nodded. “Yes, certainly.”
Winnie nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll sleep at your place tonight, but I’m outta here first thing in the morning.”
“First thing,” Marilee agreed.
“But not too early,” Winnie said. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, and I don’t have school. I’ll probably sleep till about ten o’clock.”
“Ten o’clock then.”
“And I like to drink juice and read the funnies before I start my day.”
Marilee wasn’t about to tell her she didn’t get the newspaper and there was no juice in the house. Besides, she didn’t have time to worry about it; she had to concentrate on getting along with Winnie until another home could be found.
It wouldn’t be easy. The girl had attitude.
NELL BREWER TOOK A BITE of her spaghetti, gagged and spit a mouthful into her napkin. “Sam, this is the worst spaghetti sauce I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
He regarded his mother. “Don’t beat around the bush, Mom. Tell me how you really feel.”
“How can you mess up something straight out of a jar?”
“It tasted bland so I added spices.”
She was making faces. “Tastes like you dumped a cupful of oregano in it.”
“You don’t have to eat it.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
With a disgusted sigh, Sam stood. He picked up both plates and carried them to the kitchen sink, where he dumped the contents into the garbage disposal. He flipped on the switch and waited for the ruined dinner to disappear. The disposal ground to life, wheezed and died.
Nell hurried over. “Well, would you look at that? Your cooking is so bad it broke the garbage disposal.”
“My cooking has nothing to do with it. I just need to press the reset button and it’ll be okay.” Sam opened the cabinet door then reached beneath the disposal and located the reset button. He pressed it, but nothing happened.
Peering over his shoulder, Nell gave a grunt. “I knew we should have ordered takeout.”
Sam rose quickly and collided with his mother, almost knocking her to the floor. He reached out to keep her from falling, his patience lost. “Mom, would you please get out of my way!”
She crossed her arms. “Don’t you raise your voice to me, Samuel Brewer. I’m still your mother, whether you like it or not. I’m just thankful your father isn’t here to see how you treat me.”
“Mom, please move.”
“You refuse to let me cook in my own kitchen, despite the fact you haven’t the slightest notion how to go about it. It’s a wonder we haven’t both died of ptomaine poisoning. You won’t even allow me to take a bath by myself. Well, I’m tired of being treated like I don’t have the good sense God gave me.”
Sam closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten. The woman was driving him crazy. He opened his eyes and forced a smile to his face. “Look, Mom, we’re both tired. Why don’t you go into the living room and watch TV? I’ll have this disposal fixed in no time.”
She shook her head. “We should call a plumber. Someone who knows what he’s doing. You’ll only end up making it worse.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered as she left the room.
Sam grabbed a broom and stuck the handle into the disposal, turning it counterclockwise. While he worked, he listened to Jeopardy in the next room. He liked the show, and the answers, at least most of them, came easily to him. He figured that wasn’t bad for a man who’d waited until his mid-twenties to get his GED. But he’d had a hankering for knowledge as long as he could remember, and despite staying in trouble most of his high-school years, his grades had been high. He supposed it was because he’d always enjoyed reading.
Construction work had been grueling, leaving a man—at least him—too tired to sit in bars and try to pick up women, as his buddies had. He got to where he preferred going home to a good book. He’d read most of the classics because he thought it was important. He’d studied history and politics and economics. Since he hadn’t the slightest idea what a portfolio was, he’d read everything he could about investments. Sam didn’t believe in luck. He believed a person had to earn their way in this world by using their brain. After twenty years, he could retire right now and never worry about a dime, but he enjoyed what he did. He was not afraid of hard work.
Sam pressed the reset button and the disposal ground to life. Smiling, he called out to his mother in the next room. “Told you I could fix it.” There was no response. No doubt she was still angry that he’d raised his voice to her.
Sam began cleaning the kitchen. Thankfully, his mood had improved by the time he finished. He knew he owed his mother an apology, so he walked into the living room with one on his lips, but paused in surprise when he didn’t find her in her recliner as he’d expected. It wasn’t until he switched off the TV set that he heard the sound of running water. Muttering an oath under his breath, he hurried to the bathroom door and tried the knob.
It was locked.
CHAPTER THREE
WHENEVER SHE WAS ANXIOUS, Marilee baked. That explained the two lemon pound cakes, the chocolate torte and the loaf of banana bread cooling on the kitchen counter. She knew it had something to do with being a minister’s wife for sixteen years. One simply did not visit the sick or bereaved without a cake in tow. And then there were the numerous bake sales and bazaars held every year to raise money for choir robes or the new van to accommodate seniors and the handicapped. Seemed cakes were the veritable frameworks of a thriving church.
Sixteen years of baking cakes.
Sixteen years living with Grady.
