Chapter Nine

 

Unlike Mama, I took my time getting back on the road. I waited patiently through a couple of red lights, stayed five miles under the speed limit, and finally pulled into my driveway to park behind the Cadillac. I was contemplating the wisdom of taking the crate out of the van in case it was full of fleas, when a flash of sunlight bouncing off a car zapped my eyes. I blinked, turned away, and then took a second look as a familiar red Ford Mustang rolled to a stop at the curb.

Christian? He hadn’t let me know he was coming home. My breath caught and I put my hand to my mouth. Emergency? Expulsion? But when he jumped out of the car smiling and waving, I relaxed and appraised my son to see if he might have changed drastically in the past few weeks.

Christian gets his height from me—he’s about six feet tall. T. Chandler is shorter than I am, but he’d bequeathed his bulky muscles to our son. And Christian has my hair color, the grocery bag brown--that Mama insists on calling honey mixed with caramel--and my brown eyes. My appraisal showed that he looked the same, with the possible exception that he might have gained a few pounds.

“Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

Too much, I thought. But my joy at seeing my son was instantly converted to an emotion I couldn’t name when I caught sight of the combat boot and camouflage-fatigue wearing girl who’d emerged from the passenger side of his car.

Short. Boyish figure. Hair about a half-inch long—and colored royal-robe purple. Purple eyes--contact lenses, I hoped. Ears festooned with earrings of various shapes and sizes, none of which appeared to match. Nose stud. And probably, though I was too polite to ask, at least one nipple ring.

I sent up a silent prayer asking that this person be simply a friend and not a romantic interest. Okay, I knew it was none of my business, but what mother wouldn’t cringe if her son went off to college and returned with a poster girl for grunge?

“Mom, this is Trinity Vaughan.” Christian walked around the car and grabbed the female by the arm. He led her to me, her boot-clad feet clomping on the pavement like Clydesdale hooves. “Trinity, my mom--Susan Caraway.”

“Hey, Susan.” Trinity stuck out a tiny hand.

“Nice to meet you, Trinity.” I shook the dry, bony claw. I try not to be old-fashioned, so I didn’t object to her using my first name and I told myself to get a grip about the piercings and the hair. But I determined to pull Christian aside before he went in the house and have him at least ask her to refrain from calling his grandmother by her first name. But then, why bother? Trinity was not going to be a hit with Regina Marsh, not even if she groveled at her feet like a concubine trying to please the King’s number one wife.

I turned to my son, who was still wearing a loopy grin that reminded me of a time he’d won a trophy at soccer camp, and the trophy turned out to be too heavy for him to lift.

“What brings you home?”

“Laundry, of course. Just kidding, Mom. Had nothing better to do and decided to visit.” He wrapped me in a bear hug. “Got anything to eat? We stopped for breakfast a couple of hours ago, but now I’m starved.”

He rubbed his stomach and then sniffed the air as if he could smell the contents of my refrigerator all the way to the front yard. There is no animal on earth that eats like a teenaged boy. I mentally inventoried my current food stocks and realized I’d have to make a trip to Piggly Wiggly.

Despite Christian’s assurance that the trip home was nothing more than a whim, I still wondered what had brought my son to my doorstep. I thought college weekends were usually filled with fun activities, so why wasn’t Christian participating? But I should stop trying to read something into the fact that my son had dropped in. I should be glad he was here instead of back at college attending a wild party involving liquor and maybe even drugs or other forms of risky behavior.

I shuddered. Sometimes I remind myself of Mama, who seems to know every unfortunate person in the country. I could almost hear her voice in my head.

One of my friends left a pot on a burner and burnt up her whole kitchen so it was nothing but charcoal. Your Aunt Edna-Merle’s neighbor used too much fertilizer on her lawn and poisoned herself so she wobbled like an off balance fan for the rest of her life. Lettie Stengler’s grandson went off to school somewhere in the north and got hazed into a coma by rude frat boys.

I reined in my thoughts and said. “There’s food, but you’ll have to fix it yourself unless your grandmother’s willing to cook. I suspect not. I imagine she’s too busy cooing over your baby cousin and lecturing DeLorean.”

His eyes popped. “DeLorean’s visiting? With Cole?”

Christian took off running toward the house before I could explain that DeLorean’s presence was a permanent move. He seemed to have forgotten Trinity. She looked at me and shrugged.

“Christian told me about his aunt and her baby. It was cute the way his face lit up when he talked about them. I think that’s a nice quality in a man, don’t you? I mean, when they love family and babies.”

“Definitely.” I hoped she wasn’t thinking my son would be just the man she should marry so he could father a bunch of purple-haired, nose-ringed babies for her. “Trinity, let’s go inside. And if you don’t mind, it would really be better if you didn’t call my mother by her first name.”

“Gotcha. I know how touchy old ladies can be.” She made a throat cutting motion. “Both my grandmothers live in permanent states of hysteria.”

Gee, could the poor old dears possibly be upset over their granddaughter’s fondness for body piercings and crew cut purple hair? I motioned for her to follow and led Trinity to the back door.

The scene in my kitchen could have been described as a template for a dysfunctional family reunion. Christian was trying to pry Cole out of Mama’s arms, while Mama and DeLorean argued over what DeLorean should have done instead of letting Baldwin off the child support hook. Tiny raced in circles yapping and growling.

“I declare, you have no idea how shocked I…” Mama trailed off. Her gazed traveled from Trinity’s hair down to her combat boots and back up again, detouring momentarily to the motorcycle tattoo on the back of Trinity’s right wrist. Her serene mask slipped. She forgot she was fighting for possession of Cole and let Christian slip him out of her arms.

“Mama, DeLorean, this is Christian’s friend, Trinity Vaughan. Trinity, my mother, Regina Marsh, and my sister, DeLorean Marsh.”

Trinity strode across the room to the nearest Marsh and thrust out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, DeLorean. Neat name.”

“My mother certainly thought so when she let my father convince her DeLorean was the name of a former queen of France. Queen DeLorean the First. Funny, no one else ever heard of her.” She shot Mama a petulant look. “Imagine how she must have felt when someone told her she’d named her daughter after a car.”

Mama lifted her chin. “The DeLorean is a beautiful and expensive vehicle. Very rare.”

DeLorean snorted. I felt like putting on a referee’s shirt and blowing a whistle. DeLorean was making a petty complaint. I knew good and well she was proud of her name. She’d actually been obnoxious about it while she was growing up, telling anyone who’d listen that her name was DeLorean Angelique and then pasting on a look of superiority while she waited for the inevitable compliments. I was the one who had a legitimate beef. Susan Nicole sounded like a permanently middle-aged woman who sat around watching soap operas and knitting scarves.

Trinity turned to my mother and said, “Pleased to meet you too, Mrs. Marsh.”

Mama’s ingrained manners dictated that she behave as a lady. I was counting on this and I was not disappointed.

“Hello, Trinity. It is always a pleasure to meet one of Christian’s friends.”

Good thing Mama wasn’t hooked up to a lie detector. Her tight-lipped expression told everyone in the room what she was really thinking.

Trinity was a good sport. She knelt on the floor and snapped her fingers. “Chihuahua. Cool. I love dogs. Back home I have a cocker spaniel and two toy poodles. I miss them like crazy, but hey, they don’t let you keep pets in the dorm.”

Cocker spaniel and toy poodles? I would have figured her for the Rottweiler and Doberman type.

“My babies don’t like strangers,” Mama said in clipped tones.

Strangers? They didn’t like me either, and I’d seen them a couple of times a week since the day Mama brought them home from Lydia’s rescue kennel, but apparently Trinity had something I didn’t. Tiny climbed into her lap and kissed her nose stud, leaving a lot of “sugar” behind.

DeLorean, who’d been sitting frozen since shaking Trinity’s hand, suddenly sniffed and stood up. “Anyone like a cup of tea? I was just putting the kettle on when Christian came in.”

DeLorean had learned her diversionary tactics from me. And, of course, Mama would not air dirty laundry in front of a guest, even if that guest looked like an advertisement for dirty laundry.

“That would be lovely,” Mama said. “There is nothing in this world more soothing than a nice cup of tea.”

“Anyone else like something?” I asked.

“Coffee, strong, if it’s no trouble,” Trinity said.

“Ditto.” Christian put Cole back in Mama’s arms. “And eggs and bacon with whole wheat toast and grits.”

“Christian, I am not a short order cook.” DeLorean looked put out, even more put out than she’d looked when I suggested she get a job.

“I’ll cook.” Fixing breakfast would occupy my mind. The air in the house seemed electric. God, had I really complained a few short weeks ago that I was lonely and that maybe I should adopt a cat?

Fixing Christian’s breakfast took only a matter of minutes and then I joined my guests at the table. Conversation was restricted to the weather—unusually hot--and the traffic--heavy. The only person in the room who didn’t seem to pick up on the strained atmosphere was Cole, and even that was debatable. He fussed, refused his bottle, and seemed determined to brain Mama with his rattle.

Christian finally pushed his plate away and said, “Mom, I need to bring our bags in from the car. Is DeLorean staying in the guest room or in my room?”

“Uh, guest room. And either you or Trinity can use the fold out couch in my office.”

I’d turned the fourth bedroom into a home office, decorating the walls with etchings of skyscrapers and business buildings, though the extent of my home office work consisted of me paying bills and balancing my checkbook.

Christian wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He went outside, trailed by Trinity, and returned with a gym bag in each hand. Mama watched over the rim of her cup.

I had my back to the stairs, but that didn’t matter because Mama was prepared, as always, to keep me up to date.

“I must say, I am shocked. Susan Nicole, you’d better put your foot down now and put it down hard. Your son headed straight for his room with her like a bee back to the main hive. It’s obvious he’s planning to keep that brazen little thing in his own room right here under your roof. Why, she has hair shorter than Christian’s. And she wears mens’ clothing. Army clothing.”

I bit my lip. It wasn’t as if I’d had planning sessions where I contemplated how to react if my son brought home a girlfriend and installed her in his bed. Did I care? Okay, I had to admit to feeling uncomfortable for no reason that I could articulate. But was that reason enough to put up a fight? And after I’d daydreamed about having a fling with a boyfriend if the opportunity arose, was I fair to point fingers at my eighteen-year-old son?

DeLorean rolled her eyes. “Mama, puh-lease. This is the twenty-first century. You are such a dinosaur.”

“If being a dinosaur keeps me from having a child out of wedlock, then I’m quite happy with myself, thank you.”

“So you’re going to throw it in my face that Baldwin and I didn’t get married. What’s next, are you going to call my baby a horrible name because he was born out of wedlock?”

“DeLorean, the accusations. I declare. I would never.” Mama fanned herself with an envelope I’d left on the table.

Christian and Trinity had just walked back into the room.

“Whoa.” Christian put his hands in front of him, palms facing out. “I’m taking Trinity into Charleston. She has a friend who goes to the Citadel and we’re going to get with him for the afternoon and do the tourist thing. Hope you people have your problems sorted out by the time we get back.”

“Come on, Trinity.” He flung himself across the room and out the door. Trinity was right behind him, hanging unto the back of his shirt. “Nice meeting you all,” she called politely over her shoulder.

“Well,” Mama said, after the door banged shut, “that was ugly.”

“Ugly doesn’t begin to cover it.” DeLorean’s jaw was thrust out.

“Please, let’s not fight,” I said, before Mama could say she’d told DeLorean a million times that a man doesn’t buy the cow if the milk is free. “I’ll think about whether I want to tell Christian he can’t sleep with Trinity while he’s in my house.” Like I didn’t have anything more important to obsess over.

“You’d better think fast. I’d hate to imagine what would happen to his college career if he sired a child before he was halfway through his first semester. How would you cope then, having to look after a grandchild?”

The same way I’d cope looking after a mother and a sister and a nephew and a giant dog with too much hair and a live-in flea colony. The same way I coped every day at work up until the day Odell fired me. Cope should have been my middle name.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mama. I’m sure Christian doesn’t want a child any more than you want him to have one.”

“You’d better have a talk with that boy about birth control then.” She picked up her empty teacup, peered inside, and set it back down with a thump.

“I believe that’s a required subject in junior high these days. I distinctly remember signing a sex education permission slip some years back.”

“How do you know Christian was paying attention in class? A mother can’t be too careful, Susan. God knows, I’m aware of that better than anyone.” She paused to glance pointedly at DeLorean. “Since you refuse to listen to reason, I’ve a good mind to call his father before it’s too late.”

I had a quick mental flash of T. Chandler showing up on the doorstep with a giant bag of condoms slung over his shoulder. I got up and handed Cole to DeLorean before I started putting dishes in the machine.

Mama scurried over and rearranged the dishes as fast as I could get them into the rack. “You can’t convince me you’re happy your son is in lust with a girl who would look more at home running an obstacle course at the nearest boot camp than attending a tea party.”

“A tea party?” DeLorean blinked. “Do such things even exist these days?”

“You would be surprised. You would be very surprised if you ever tried to live up to your upbringing and act like a lady. But whether tea parties exist isn’t the point, miss. This Trinity person is entirely unsuited for my grandson. And there is no reason to allow her into his bed and chance disaster.”

“But if she’s wrong for him,” I said, “then maybe it’s a good idea not to fight him on this sleepover thing. No need to give him even more reason to rebel.”

“That sounds like utter nonsense to me. Mark my words, Susan, you will wish Christian had never laid eyes on that—that androgynous little tart.”

DeLorean and I exchanged glances. “Androgynous little tart,” she mouthed. I turned away to keep from laughing.

The phone rang. The receptionist at the Pet Wellness Center informed me that Brad Marsh would be ready at four. Mama grabbed Tiny and took the opportunity to make her exit. When she got to the door, she turned and said, “And another thing. Get your fence fixed. There are housedogs, Susan, and there are yard dogs, and I brought you up to know the difference. You girls would do well to pay attention to me once in a while. Heaven knows I did my best to instill my values in you.” She stiff armed the back door and marched away to her waiting Cadillac.

“Yes, heaven knows,” DeLorean whispered. “Mama must be on first name terms with God by now. And yet you and I are still without values.”

She hugged Cole close to her chest. I was startled to see tears slowly coursing down her cheeks and I leaned over to squeeze her shoulder. She was under a lot of strain, and I wished I could make things all better for her the way I did when she was a baby.

After Mama’s Cadillac had disappeared down the street, I remembered I hadn’t asked her about moving in. But then, it didn’t take a genius to see that the whole idea seemed worse than stupid. I’d have to find another solution, but what that was, I couldn’t imagine.

Though I didn’t like the way Mama had issued orders and for a second I entertained a childish notion to defy her and let the fence rot to the ground, I knew she was right. And I knew who could repair the fence quickly. Kenny, the high school kid who kept my lawn mowed, was a wizard at home maintenance. I gave him a call and arranged for him to come over on Sunday morning.

Even though Mama’s Cadillac was nowhere to be seen when Christian finally got back with Trinity, he still stuck his head in the kitchen and peered around cautiously before he ventured inside. Then he headed straight for the refrigerator while Trinity settled herself at the kitchen table where I was drinking a cup of coffee and perusing a newspaper article about how to garden on a budget. I wondered if the definition of budget meant that since most of my family was dependent on me, I couldn’t afford anything for my garden except those packets of wildflower seeds that came free in advertisements for home decorating magazines.

“Where are DeLorean and Cole?” Christian put down a carton of orange juice and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Grandma run them off?”

“Napping.” I looked at Trinity. “How did you like Charleston?”

“Primo.” She flashed two thumbs up and wriggled in her chair like a puppy. “I’m thinking of transferring to the College of Charleston.”

Primo. Damn the city for being so quaint and charming and attractive. Mama would go into high gear if Trinity took up residence within a hundred miles of Charleston. But then I suspected she wouldn’t be happy unless Trinity left the country with all the rest of the androgynous little tarts.

“Really?” I said, carefully keeping emotions in check.

“Hey, admit it, Trin.” Christian grinned at her. “You want to be close to Brandon.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Who’s Brandon?” I got up and poured myself another cup of coffee and pointed to the pot. When Trinity nodded, I poured her a cup and brought it to her.

“My friend at the Citadel. We started dating in high school, broke up a couple of times, but now he wants to get back together. He’s matured a lot since he went off to school last year, so who knows?” She shrugged.

I wondered if he was mature enough to accept the fact that his girlfriend was sleeping with another guy while he paraded around the barracks, or whatever you called the Citadel buildings, in his uniform.

I started to say something polite, such as that I wished her luck no matter what she decided, when I happened to glance at the clock. “Goodness, it’s nearly four and I have to pick up Brad—that’s DeLorean’s dog—at the Pet Wellness Center. You haven’t met Brad yet, but he’s about the size of a pony and he minds me about as well as Mama’s Chihuahuas do. And I haven’t even thought about cooking supper.”

I stood and allowed myself a deep sigh that started somewhere around my toes. Trinity pushed her cup away.

“Want company? I’m really good with dogs.”

I hesitated for the briefest of seconds. But when it came to dealing with Brad I was not about to turn down offers of help or sympathy. “If you’re sure. Do you mind if I borrow Trinity for a while, Christian?”

He grinned and dragged a loaf of bread out of the back of the refrigerator. “Take her. I’ll commandeer the family room and see if there’s any good football on.”

I suspected there would be. I hadn’t heard of the football game yet that wasn’t good as far as Christian was concerned.

Trinity and I went out to the van and climbed in. I switched on the ignition. “Seatbelt?” I said, buckling my own.

“Right.” She clicked her belt shut. “I’m good. Now what’s up with this puppy?”

“He’s an oversized golden doodle and he looked like he had enough excess coat to stuff a mattress—if you could get the tangles and the fleas out."

“I hear ya. Hey, look at that.” She peered out the window as we passed a mini plantation on the corner. “Nice. Boy, wouldn’t I love to have a place like that.” After that she chatted happily about school. All I had to do was nod occasionally and look interested and I was free to keep worrying over what to feed my guests.

The receptionist at the Pet Wellness Center first collected my check in an amount that made me wonder if I’d have to skip a few meals before the end of the month. Then she motioned for us to follow her to the back of the facility. She opened a cage. An animal, the newly buzz cut Brad, bounded out. He shot between me and the doorframe, knocking me into the wall as if I weighed about three ounces. Trinity grabbed his collar, pulling him to a halt before he could escape from the building.

He was about half his former size without all the excess fur, and now that Trinity held him still, I could see his eyes, dark and doelike. But not doelike enough for me to warm up to him all that much. My shoulder still smarted from its close encounter with the wall.

Brad reared up on his hind legs to put his paws on Trinity’s skinny shoulders. She staggered backward and then pushed him down.

“None of that, mister. Good boy, Brad. Heel.” She snapped his leash onto his collar and wrapped half the leash around her hand to shorten it. Then she snapped it for a split second, tightening Brad’s collar.

He looked at her, puzzlement taking over his face. He seemed to consider his options before he obediently positioned himself at her side, walking sedately to the van where he jumped in at her command.

I watched goggle-eyed, then managed to collect myself and climb in behind the wheel. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.” I tromped harder than I meant to on the gas pedal. “I didn’t schedule time to fetch Brad. I haven’t had to fix a big meal since Christian left for school and now with DeLorean here...” I clamped my mouth shut. I didn’t want her to think I objected to guests, her included.

“Your sister got here yesterday, right?”

“Yes. I had to take off from work to pick her up at the airport.”

I’d woken up Friday morning thinking about going to work and training Brenda and here I was with a house full of people. And the problem of how to find a way to help my sister without a paycheck coming in for either of us. My new job didn’t count until I actually started earning money.

Then I thought about Jack. He hadn’t called to set up a time to show me his bathroom. I hadn’t realized until now how much I was looking forward to seeing him again. For sympathy, of course. I wanted to tell him all about my problems so he could say, the way he used to when we were kids, “Hey, Nic, want me to hire a quartet of violins to accompany your sob story?” Then he’d put his arms around me to show he was teasing and he’d pull me close and say he was there for me. I’d snuggle against his chest and wish I could stay there forever.

“You okay?” Trinity asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t really know my way around here or anything, but wasn’t that your turn near that plantation house on the corner?” She pointed back over her shoulder.

“Whoops. I had my mind on other things. I was supposed to see an old friend tonight, but that didn’t work out.”

“Hey, tragic. I could have helped you with your make-up.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t anything like that, not a date. We’re nothing more than friends.”

“Gotcha. But for supper, don’t worry about a thing. I can help you whip up something primo. Back home I worked in a restaurant all through high school. Not waitressing—I can’t stand dealing with customers when they get snotty, you know? Anyway, I worked in the back, the kitchen. I can do chicken, ribs, fish, whatever you want.”

“I couldn’t ask a guest to do all that work.” And why not? I wondered, even as I spoke. My guests didn’t seem to have any trouble expecting me to do for them.

“No trouble. I can see you have a real circus going on at your house and you could use a hand.” She looked at me solemnly, not easy with her purple contact lenses that reminded me of the aliens’ eyes in a science fiction movie I’d once seen. “Your sister is completely losing it. Christian told me all about her ex, and I can see why DeLorean would have a total meltdown. And your mother, no offense, is one bossy lady and she’s upset with you over something. Now don’t argue. Everything’s settled, Susan.”

I shrugged, swung the car into a u-turn and accelerated toward home. This morning when I first met her, I was ready to haul Trinity to the nearest airport and buy her a one way ticket out of my son’s life. Now I was thanking my good luck he’d brought her with him. I’d take her up on her offer to help fix supper, but I silently passed on letting her do my make-up if need arose. I was sure Mama would faint if she saw me wearing a nose ring.