Breaking TWIG Page 8

  Momma stared out the front window. "You need to rake this yard, Becky."

  "Please don’t let them do this to Johnny, Momma." I took a step closer to her. "It was my idea to run away."

  Frank cleared his throat. "Helen, you can’t send that boy to prison for something you know he didn’t do."

  "If he ends up in prison, it’ll be a judge and jury sending him there." She released the curtain, strolled over to the television and turned it on.

  I ran over to the TV and pushed the off button. Momma shoved me away, turned it back on. I fell against the couch, bounced up, and headed for the television again.

  She put her arm out to stop me. "If you touch my TV again, I’ll knock the teeth out of your head."

  Frank stepped between us, turned off the television. "Your soap operas can wait."

  Helen stomped back to the window. "I blame you for this, Frank. You’re always coddling Becky. Did you encourage her to run away with Johnny?"

  "Don’t blame Frank, Momma. He didn’t know. It’s all my doing. Punish me if you like, but not him or Johnny."

  "Don’t worry, I’m planning something special for you."

  Frank crossed the room in three steps. He got right up in Momma’s face. "You’re not laying a hand on her, Helen. Do you understand me? Never again are you going to hit her."

  Momma took a drag off her cigarette and blew the smoke into my stepfather’s face. "You can’t tell me how to discipline Becky." She started to take another drag, but Frank wrapped his hand around hers, entombing her fist and the lit smoke inside his own grasp. His jaw flexed, sweat popped out on his forehead. Momma’s eyes grew big. When Frank finally loosened his grip, Momma yanked her hand free. Her smothered cigarette fell to the floor.

  I caught a faint whiff of seared flesh as Frank walked past me. "Are you okay?"

  Ignoring my question, he trudged over to the phone, picked up the receiver, held it out to Momma. "Call Tate. Tell him you’re dropping the charges against Johnny."

  Helen picked up her pack of cigarettes. "Damn. Go get me a carton of cigarettes, Becky."

  "Nobody’s going anywhere until this is settled," Frank said.

  She crushed the empty package. "I need a smoke."

  He shook the receiver at her. "Then I suggest you make the call."

  "Doesn’t it bother you, Frank, to know Johnny talked Becky into sleeping with him?"

  "Johnny didn’t talk me into anything. I love him and we’re married."

  Momma laughed. "Roy told me you claimed to be common-law married. It was embarrassing. How could you be so stupid?"

  "I’m not stupid. There is such a thing as a common-law marriage, isn’t there, Frank?"

  My stepfather put the receiver back on its hook. "Yes, Ladybug, but it’s more involved than just running off and claiming you’re married."

  I shook my head. "I don’t care what anyone thinks. As far as I’m concerned, Johnny and I are married."

  "You hear that?" Helen asked. "If Johnny is set free, they’ll run away again. We might not find them in one piece next time." She jabbed her finger at me. "Running off in the middle of a hurricane. It’s a wonder you didn’t drown or something."

  "I’d rather drown than live with you." I started to run out of the room, but Frank grabbed me. "I hate her."

  "Don’t say that, Ladybug."

  "It’s true." I wrapped my arms around his waist and started crying.

  Frank eased my arms from around his body, wiped my tears away, and walked over to stand behind Momma. He put his hands on her shoulders. "I know you were worried about Becky being out in that storm. I was scared too."

  She looked up at him. "I do care about her."

  "I know." He pulled her around into his arms and began rubbing her back.

  I didn’t know what to think or to feel. For a long time now, I’d thought of Frank as belonging to me, not to Momma. He hated her as much as I did. Didn’t he? Not in my wildest imagination could I believe he still had feelings for her. He had to be playing her, the way she so often played us. He was being nice to soften her up.

  "Helen," he said, "they’re not the first young couple to run off to get married, and they won’t be the last. April and I did the same thing when we were just seventeen."

  She pulled away. "That doesn’t make it right."

  "That’s true, and I could give them both a swift kick in the behind." Frank looked at me. "Do you realize how frightened we were? Anna almost drove herself crazy with worry."

  I pulled at my ponytail. "Johnny left his mother a note."

  "That’s more than we got from you," Helen said.

  I’d wanted to leave a letter for Frank, but couldn’t risk Momma finding it. When we got to Texas, I’d planned to call him at work to let him know I’d escaped her clutches. Then he’d be free to leave her too. But instead of freeing us both, I’d managed to put Frank in the middle again and get Johnny thrown in jail. Maybe I was stupid.

  Right now, Momma’s anger was directed at Johnny. She knew I’d rather her kill me then have her destroy Johnny’s life and, consequently, Anna’s too. My mother was so clever, so deserving of the title of Champion Picker of Cascade County.

  "Becky, I want you to promise your mother that if she gets Johnny out of jail, you won’t run off anymore," Frank said.

  "I promise I won’t run off again."

  "That won’t do." She turned to Frank. "Becky doesn’t give a damn about any promise she makes me. She’ll stand there all day and lie to my face if she thinks it’ll help that boy."

  Momma was right. She and I had lied to each other so much, it was now second nature to us. It’d take the Lord Almighty to unravel the truth between us. I doubted He felt we were worth his efforts any longer. Even in Hell, I’d still be stuck with Momma.

  "What does Becky have to do to convince you she won’t run away again?" he asked.

  Momma sashayed over to the door, tilted her head, and played with one of her curls.

  I could almost see the devious little wheels in her head turning, trying to find the best way to box me into a corner.

  "She has to promise she’ll never run away with Johnny or anyone. And she must swear on her daddy’s grave, she’ll never try to kill herself again."

  "Okay," I said. "I swear."

  "I’m not finished," Momma said. "Becky has to make this promise to you, Frank."

  "Why to me?"

  "Because Becky would cut out her tongue before breaking a solemn promise to you."

  I knew two things. First, to save Johnny from prison, I’d have to give Frank my true word I’d never run away or try to harm myself again. Second, I was certain Momma had sold her soul to the Devil in exchange for a multitude of talents and ways to torment me. How could I fight the Devil, especially when the Lord had grown weary of all my lying, sinful ways?

  I gave Frank my word. Momma picked up the phone and called the sheriff’s office. My stepfather and I listened as she spun her silver tale.

  "Margie, this is Helen Wooten, I heard you were in a little fender bender last week. Just wanted to call and make sure you were okay, Sugar."

  It wasn’t necessary for us to hear the other side of the conversation. Nobody’s opinion mattered except for my mother’s.

  "I’m glad you’re all right," Helen said. "By the way, can I talk to Sheriff Tate? Or has that rascal slipped off and gone fishing?"

  Margie must’ve said something funny because Momma laughed.

  "Roy, this is Helen. Sugar, we need to get together to discuss this thing with Becky and Johnny before it gets out of hand. What are you doing right now that’s more important than meeting me . . . in private, of course?"

  Frank flinched at Momma’s suggestion of a private meeting. The image of her riding the naked insurance salesman popped into my head. I knew how far she’d go to get what she wanted from a man. I hoped Frank didn’t, but suspected he might.

  *****

  It was half-past midnight when Momma returned from her me
eting with Sheriff Tate. She staggered in, fell against the deacon’s bench, got a run in her nylons.

  "Shit . . . these hose are brand new." The odor of whiskey, cigars, and after-shave blended with her perfume. "The cost of these stockings is coming out of your allowance."

  "I don’t get an allowance." I moved backwards to stay out of her slapping range.

  She plopped down in Papa’s old recliner. "Frank gives you money. The least you can do is to buy . . . buy me some new hose."

  "What happened, Momma? Is Johnny out of jail?"

  She slipped off her heels. "Where’s Frank?"

  "In the greenhouse." I ventured closer to her. "What did Sheriff Tate say?"

  "That damn greenhouse. I’m going to burn it down. Then Frank will have . . . time for me." She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and giggled. "Maybe I should paint myself green, tape leaves to my body . . . change my name to Rose. What do you think?"

  The swinging door between the kitchen and the dining end of the living room opened. Frank entered.

  I stood between him and Momma, not sure who I was protecting. It didn’t take much imagination to see that Sheriff Tate and Momma had shared more than conversation and supper.

  "Did she get Johnny released?" Frank asked.

  I shrugged. "She’s drunk."

  He squatted down in front of Momma, pushed her hair back, and patted her cheeks.

  "Bring me a damp cloth, Becky."

  I did as I was told.

  He wiped her face and arms off. "Helen, can you hear me? What happened?"

  "I hear you."

  "Is Tate going to release Johnny?"

  Momma put her arms around Frank’s neck. "Why don’t you care for me, Sugar? You worry about Becky . . . about Johnny . . . the store. Why don’t you worry about me?" She tried to kiss him, but he pulled back. "We had some good times in the beginning, didn’t we?" She rested her head on his chest and started crying.

  Frank sighed and patted her back. He looked so tired. Trying to mediate the running feud between Momma and me was sucking the life out of him.

  The phone rang. I jumped. Anyone calling this late had to be the bearer of bad news.

  It rang again. "I’ll get it," I said, my voice quivering.

  "No," Frank said, "I’ll get it." He eased Helen back into the recliner. Her head fell limp against the headrest. She’d fallen asleep. He smoothed the damp cloth over her forehead. The phone rang again and he answered it.

  "Hello. Yes, this is Frank."

  I sat on the ottoman, trembling, and listening for a clue as to the caller’s identity.

  Frank hung up the phone, walked over to the davenport and sat down. "Come here, Ladybug."

  I eased down beside him. "Who was on the phone?"

  "Anna."

  I grabbed Frank’s arm. "Johnny’s dead, isn’t he? They killed him."

  "No, Becky." Frank pried my hand loose. "Johnny’s fine."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I’m sure. Calm down, Ladybug."

  "I can’t." I rested my head on Frank’s shoulder. "I’m scared."

  He kissed my head. "Do you want to know why Anna called?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "To thank Helen for getting Johnny released."

  "He’s free? Johnny’s free?"

  "Not yet, but he will be soon. The charges against him will be dropped in exchange for his enlisting in the military."

  "Why should he enlist? He has a college deferment."

  "Apparently, Helen and Sheriff Tate visited Cordell Varner, the county attorney, tonight. The three of them decided this plan would be best for everyone."

  "Why didn’t Momma just drop the charges?"

  "It’s too late for that. Johnny’s lawyer figures this is the best deal he’ll get."

  I jumped up. Momma was snoozing away in Papa’s chair, a look of contentment on her smeared painted face. "It’s her fault. She didn’t go over to Mr. Varner’s to help Johnny. She went to make sure he got sent as far away from me as possible."

  Frank rubbed the back of his neck. "Probably, but Becky, you and Johnny are partly responsible for this mess."

  "What do you mean? Are you taking her side?"

  "I’m not taking anyone’s side, Ladybug, but how many times did I tell you to be patient? If you’d waited until you were eighteen, this story would’ve had a happy ending."

  "But I couldn’t wait. I ran away so we could both be free of Momma."

  Helen stirred. "Where are you, Frank?"

  "I’m here, Helen."

  "I did good tonight, didn’t I? I got Johnny set free like you wanted."

  Frank nodded.

  Helen grinned. "Are you proud of me?"

  "Sure," he whispered as she nodded off again.

  I grabbed his arm. "How can you be proud of her? Don’t you know what she did?"

  "Whatever Helen did, it was because I asked her to. Remember, I sent her to Tate."

  "You’re too nice, Frank. She takes advantage of that."

  "We all take advantage of people we care about now and then. Helen’s just better at it than most."

  I hugged my stepfather. "I don’t want her to hurt you anymore."

  "I appreciate your concern, Ladybug, but it’s my job to take care of us. Remember that, okay?"

  "Okay."

  Frank squeezed my hand. "I don’t want us to ever mention what Helen did or didn’t do tonight. Do you understand?"

  "Why do you want to protect her?"

  "You weren’t here, Becky. These last few days were hard on all of us, including Helen."

  "You said Momma cared about me, but I don’t believe it."

  "When you have a child, you’ll understand." He smoothed back my hair. "There’s no greater agony than not knowing if your child is safe."

  "Frank," Helen called, "I’m tired. Help me to bed."

  He went to her. "Put your arms around my neck."

  She was quick to obey. "I don’t feel well. Stay with me tonight . . . please."

  He hesitated, and then answered, "Sure."

  She sighed and unveiled a lazy grin.

  "Lock up and go to bed, Ladybug." Frank started up the stairs. Momma’s arms were wrapped around his neck; her chin rested on his shoulder.

  I stood at the bottom of the staircase, looking up at Frank’s back and Momma’s face.

  Her eyes popped open. A twisted smirk split her face. She waved and then winked. Damn her hide. She’d given another Oscar-caliber performance and Frank and I had bought it.

  Three days ago, everything had seemed simple. I’d been so sure Johnny and I would make good our escape. Now, I’d lost the little I had. Because of me, Momma had been given the chance to play the role of concerned parent and obedient wife. Frank’s guilt over sending her to Sheriff Tate and his parental sympathies made him even more vulnerable to her hooks. And Anna would be stuck with bills from her son’s attorney.

  Worse of all, I’d lost Johnny. Instead of college, he faced military service and the possibility of being sent to Vietnam. If Momma’s wish to see him dead came true, I’d have only myself to blame.

  Momma claimed she and I were alike in many ways. Until today, I’d denied her allegation. Now I knew she’d told the truth. When it came to ruining people’s lives, I was definitely my mother’s daughter.

  CHAPTER 12

  Frozen grass crunched beneath our boots. Icicles of various lengths hung off the canyon ledges next to a trickle of water slipping over the triangular-shaped rock. The harshness of the coldest winter in thirty years echoed the bitterness fermenting in me. I headed for the truck, leaving Frank alone to admire the wonders of Starview Mountain. Climbing into the cab, I practiced what I’d say to him.

  Two months had passed since Johnny’s departure and the agony of not being allowed to tell him goodbye still lingered. I’d only asked for a few minutes with him. Despite my pleas and Frank’s requests on my behalf, Momma had refused to grant permission. My only tangible memento of the day was a brief note
Johnny wrote to me. Anna gave it to Frank personally to pass on to me. Otherwise, I’m sure I’d have never received it.

  In the note, Johnny promised to write, swore he’d come back for me, and pledged his everlasting love. It was now mid-December and I’d yet to get one letter. Still, I clung to his promise as if it was a lasso hanging over a pit of rattlesnakes.

  The driver’s door opened and Frank got in. "It’s colder than frog titties out there."

  I forced a smile.

  He started the engine and turned on the heater. "What did you want to talk about?"

  "Why do you love this pickup so much?"

  "Before my first wife died, she made me promise to use some of her life insurance money to buy a new pickup. I didn’t want to, but it seemed important to April. I think of it as a present from her." Frank patted the dash of the red and white ’62 Ranchero. "I got an automatic so it’d be easier for Donald to drive, but he doesn’t like trucks. We never had much in common except for loving his mother."

  For the first time, I saw Frank as someone other than my friend and protector. He had secret heartaches of his own to deal with. How unfair for me to burden him with mine. But what choice did I have? For a long time we sat in silence, each lost in our own memories.

  Frank turned off the truck. "What’s on your mind, Ladybug? Why did you want to come out here?"

  "You love this place so. Why don’t you buy it?"

  "I would if Mr. Parr would sell it. He keeps hoping his children will want it someday."

  "Why wouldn’t they?"

  "His son is a doctor in Boston, and his daughter married an engineer from California. They seldom visit." Frank laughed. "They think Georgia is all peach trees and rednecks."

  At that moment, I knew exactly how April must have felt. I’d have given my eyeteeth to been able to give Starview Mountain to Frank. "Maybe Mr. Parr will change his mind and sell it to you."

  "Perhaps." Frank reached for my hand. "You didn’t bring me here to talk about trucks and land. What’s the matter, Ladybug?"

  "I am . . . I’m going to . . . I’m pretty sure . . ."