Heaven Sent (12 page)

Suze knew she was addicted to a good sale. It was her drug of choice, along with her heartthrob, Tony. I figured it was better than abusing food or drugs, so I was ahead of the game, although I still enjoyed giving her a good ribbing over some of the junk she came home with from time to time.

“You should think about buying and reselling. You have an awesome eye. You could be like those guys on TV who buy storage lockers full of people’s crap and find thousands of dollars’ worth of good stuff in ‘em.”

She smiled. “Tony says the same thing. He thinks I could make a living at it.”

“You could.” The woman loved digging around grungy garages for antiques. She may as well cash in on it.

She sat back as if in thought. “It would be nice to own my own business. And you could help.”

“No. No way. My days of plowing around funky garages are over. That’s Tony’s job now.”

She frowned. “We used to have so much fun going to garage and estate sales, didn’t we?”

“I loved it, Mom. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m grown up.”

I could tell it was a sobering thought for her. “Yes, you are.” She took in a deep breath and let it out, and I knew she was recalling the old days. “But it
was
fun,” she said, clinging to the thought of the two of us on the prowl for antiques.

“Where’s Tony, anyway?” I asked. I needed to bring her back to the present and get her mind off the idea I was no longer her little girl.

“He had another allergy attack. A really bad one. I put Amanda in your room before he came in, but I guess the shots he’s getting haven’t kicked in yet.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. He insists he’ll get past it. He’s such a trooper. But in the mean-time, maybe you could vacuum the couch for cat hairs.”

“Of course. No problem.”

“What have you been up to this morning?” she asked, turning the subject to me.

I hadn’t lied to her in quite a while. Lying was never my thing, but if you’re a teenager, there are times when you’re going to have to lie to your parents. Usually it’s for their own good. At least that’s what I told myself.

“I went to breakfast.” That wasn’t a lie. “A new place.” That wasn’t a lie either. “I don’t remember the name of it, but it was really good.” All true. I’m sure the area with the meadow had a name, but I didn’t know it.

“How’d you hear about the place?”

“Guy.” My voice slid into an upper register as I could feel I was heading for rough terrain.

“Oh.” I couldn’t read the expression on her face as she absorbed what I’d said. “Did Maudrina go with you?”

Come on! Haven’t you asked enough questions already? If this was Jeopardy I’d be leading on points going into the final round, and no one would be able to catch me, even if I got it wrong.

“Umm, no,” I replied. “I went alone.” And there it was. The lie rolled off my tongue like a bowling ball rumbling down the alley heading for a strike. “I wanted to get my thoughts together about my plans for next semester,” I added.

“And?”

“And I had a wonderful breakfast. That’s all I’m at liberty to say right now, Mom. If I told you more, I’d have to kill you.” Using a retort from an old spy movie.

She smiled. “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure whatever you decide about your future will be the right decision.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“And if you ever need my help, I’m always here,” she added, piling on the guilt. It wasn’t on purpose. She hadn’t even known I’d lied. But the guilt was there all the same, tunneling its way into my soul. That’s the thing about lying. Most times when you do it, you wind up feeling like the gunk that gets stuck to the bottom of the trash can.

“Thanks,” I replied again. I had a sudden urge to get out of there. I thought of Maudrina and the lie she’d told her father, so she could be with Curtis. I wondered how it made her feel. “Get back to work. I’m going to vacuum the sofa,” I said.

“Thanks.”

I started from the room.

“Hon?” I turned back. “You’re not all grown up yet.” There was the sweetest look on her face, and I knew that despite the presence of Tony in her life, she still needed me.

“I know,” I said. I can’t describe the feeling the look on her face gave me. All I knew is, in that moment, I was happy to be her daughter.

“Just don’t be in too much of a hurry,” she said, distant memories shining in her eyes.

“I’ll pump the brakes,” I replied. I was smiling as I exited to get the vacuum cleaner.

After I vacuumed up all the cat hair, I went upstairs to get Amanda. She had been cooped up alone in my room for hours. I knew she had to be dying to get out. When I arrived at my bedroom, the door was ajar. I pushed it open and wasn’t surprised to find that she had gotten out.

I strolled down to my mother’s room. Her door was also ajar. I entered. “Amanda?” I looked under the bed and in the closet. She wasn’t there.

I came back downstairs calling her name. My mother appeared in the breakfast nook doorway. “She isn’t upstairs?”

“No. Have you seen her?” There was no hiding the dread that had crept into my voice.

“I’m sure she’s fine. She must have gotten outside.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But cats are clever, and remember, Amanda happens to be a hunter.”

“You’re right. I’ll search around outside.”

I rushed to the back door and went out into the garden. When I didn’t find her there, the fear crept over me like a net. I walked, heavy-legged, around the side of the house to the front. With each step my concern mounted, my head a kaleidoscope of horrific visions:
hit by a car, eaten by a dog, kidnapped.

I reached the front of the house. Amanda was at the front of the walk near the sidewalk. She paced evenly back-and-forth, like a sentry, her eyes on the street.

“Amanda!” I called, the dread falling away as adrenaline-filled relief washed over me. She turned and faced me. “Com’ere, Pumpkin. I’ve been looking all over for you.” I stooped down, extended my arms, and wiggled my fingers.

She came trotting to me, totally unaffected by the alarm in my voice. I scooped her into my arms. “Mommy was so worried about you,” I said. “How in the world did you get outside?” She answered with a lazy meow and swatted an imaginary bug.

I wish I’d taken cat instead of French in school.

I kissed her atop her head and started back toward the house. “No more roaming the streets, okay?”

Maudrina was right,
I thought.
You always love your children most.

*

The Carefree fairgrounds were packed by the time Guy and I arrived. It was just 8:30 in the morning and yet it was already a toasty eighty-five degrees out. We passed a group of older girls in their twenties as we walked from the parking lot toward the fairgrounds. They couldn’t keep their eyes off Guy. I smiled inwardly, content that the cute boy they were ogling was all mine, until I saw that Guy was smiling outwardly—at
them!

“Friends of yours?” I asked, my lips pinched tight.

“No. I thought they were friends of yours the way they were smiling at us.”

“They weren’t smiling at us. They were smiling at
you
,” I said emphatically.

“Yeah, I figured that when you guys didn’t speak. But by then I’d already smiled and they were practically past us. If we see them again, I’ll shoot them a big frown to let them know I’m yours.”

He was teasing, trying to coax the snippiness out of me, but it didn’t work. My mind drifted to the lie of omission he’d told about Roxanne.

“That’s exactly what I was hoping,” I said with a sarcastic lilt.

He stopped walking and faced me.

“I’m here with you, Megan. I travelled very far to get here. And here is where I want to be.” He latched onto my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

I’m not the jealous type. I knew Guy loved me. He came all this way to rescue me. I loved him, too. I loved him very deeply, which is why I held onto a tiny bit of doubt. That doubt was the only defense my heart would have if he left again. That doubt would keep me from falling totally to pieces.

We entered the fairgrounds, holding hands.

The grounds were lined with avenues of canopies, under which were rows and rows of tables. We moved past tables hawking homemade jellies and jams, Sally’s Sassy Salsa, and Miss Betty’s organic chocolate, on our way to the contest tent.

“There’s Maudrina,” I said. She was standing by a table selling recipe cards. When she saw us she smiled, yet it seemed as though a veil of caution had slid over her eyes.

“Well, look who’s back,” she said to Guy.

“How’s my favorite dance partner?” Guy replied. They hugged.

I looked around for Curtis. He wasn’t around. Something told me not to ask where he was.

“Have you stopped by Aunt Jaz’s table yet?” I asked instead.

“No. I just got here.”

She didn’t say we.bake-off

“I’m sure she’s dying for some support. We’d better get over there,” she continued.

We moved away from the tables to a tented area where the bake-off was going on. It cost an additional two dollars to get in, but once you were inside, you could walk around, sampling everything your taste buds desired.

As we entered, a yummy mixture of delicious fragrances filled the air. We passed tables featuring coconut-filled tortilla turnovers, churros with chocolate dunking sauce, homemade old-fashioned donuts covered with enough powdered sugar to make it seem as though they’d been in a snow storm. I recognized some of the parents from my neighborhood standing behind tables. Mrs. Green was there with her apple-cherry popovers that she had once baked for my middle school bake sale. Mrs. Martinez was there with a French apple pie with white frosting.

Aunt Jaz stood alone behind a table of baked goods, wringing her hands nervously as a couple tasted her wares. They nodded their approval and moved away. She looked up and saw us.

“It’s about time you two got here. Where have you been?” she called. Several heads turned to see who she was talking to.

Usually there was a smile as big as Texas on Aunt Jaz’s face when she greeted us at her door. Her greetings were always followed by hugs and laughter. Not this time.

“We’re early,” Maudrina replied, slightly embarrassed over being called out. I don’t think she’d ever witnessed this side of Aunt Jaz before. “The judging doesn’t begin until nine-thirty.”

We moved to her table. Aunt Jaz was the image of Betty Crocker in a green print dress, her hair neatly done in a conservative cut.

“You’re right. I’m just a little nervous is all—which is why I baked two items instead of one.”

A beautiful pineapple upside-down cake was seated on a tall cake plate. Next to it was a pan of an enchilada-style dessert. The placard in front of the pan read: Apple Cheesecake Burritos. Both the cake and burritos were beautifully displayed and got my mouth watering. They looked like something out of a magazine.

Aunt Jaz’s eyes moved to Guy. “Hello, young man.”

I’d forgotten she hadn’t met him before. “Aunt Jaz, this is Guy Matson.”

Her eyes widened, before crinkling with laughter. “Come here, you.” She reached across the table, engulfing Guy in one of her famous bear hugs. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” I’m sure she was surprised that he’d suddenly shown up. But she didn’t show it.

“You, too,” he replied as she squeezed the breath out of him.

He’s an angel,
I thought.
He can take it.
I smiled inwardly.

After a lengthy hug, Aunt Jaz released Guy and looked around. “Where’s Curtis?”

“He couldn’t make it.”

Aunt Jaz was too preoccupied with the bake-off to notice the swiftness of Maudrina’s response, or hear the change in her voice when she replied. But I noticed it.

Something happened between the two of them last night.

It wasn’t the time or place to bring it up, so I held my tongue.

“I figured I’d hedge my bets by baking two items,” Aunt Jaz said, looking down at the baked goods on her table. “Then I’d enter the one the people liked best, ensuring my chances of winning the blue ribbon. But so far it’s a tie. I need you girls to break the tie.” She looked at her watch. “I have to enter by nine or miss out. And you know I’m not missing out. So, I hope you brought your appetites with you.”

We laughed. Aunt Jaz’s favorite pastime was serving food. We had fifteen minutes to sample each pastry and help break the tie. Despite wanting to know what had happened between Maudrina and Curtis, I knew I had to put my concerns aside and focus on deliciousness.

Aunt Jaz served us each sample plates from containers she kept below the table. As we ate, she looked across the aisle and frowned. “Effie Pringle made her chocolate-chocolate cake again. There should be a law against entering the same item two years in a row.” Her eyes narrowed. “I am not losing the first place blue ribbon to that witch again.”

There was something disconcerting about the way Aunt Jaz was staring at the woman across the aisle. The look in her eyes gave me goose bumps.

“Here you go, Jasmine.” A man came up and handed Aunt Jaz a bottle of drinking water and a cup.

“Thank you, deary.” She took the bottle and began to pour.

“I’m afraid all this anxiety is my fault,” the man said, turning to us. He was an older man, with a head full of thick gray hair, and the sexy mellifluous voice of a late night radio host. He was sweating.

“Oh?” said Maudrina in response to the man.

“The pineapple upside-upside-down cake was my idea. It’s my favorite,” the man said, smiling at Maudrina.

Maudrina did not smile back.

He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and mopped it across his brow. It was at least ninety degrees out by now, yet he had on a light tweed sports coat over a white cotton shirt. Perspiration stains, like ink blots, appeared on the shirt.

“Allow me to make some introductions,” chimed Aunt Jaz. “This is Monsieur Perez.”

Monsieur Perez immediately offered his hand to Maudrina. “It’s a pleasure to meet Jasmine’s favorite niece.” He had the hint of an accent I couldn’t place. I don’t have much experience with accents, but his didn’t sound French or Spanish. “And you are the young lady Jasmine has spoken of,” said Monsieur Perez, turning his attention to me.