The Pecan Man(8)

I stopped and drew a deep breath. I did know why. I knew exactly why and so did Blanche. It made me sick with grief and shame.

Blanche straightened her back and sat tall in her chair. Her face was set in a way that said her decision was made. I could argue until I was blue in the face and it would not change her answer. In the brief seconds before she spoke I actually felt relieved. It was one thing to recognize myself as a fraud. It was another thing entirely to do something about it. I could console myself with the knowledge that I tried to change it, but the truth was, I was glad that Blanche would refuse my gesture. It somehow made sense that she wouldn’t want my help with Grace.

Blanche stood and looked out the window for a moment.

“I’m keeping Grace out of school for a week or so. I’ll make arrangements to change her bus route when I call the principal about her schoolwork.”

I sat in stunned silence for a moment before I managed a shaky, “Good. Then that’s settled.”

Blanche cleared her empty cup off the table and started in on the dishes. I took my coffee to the front porch.

I had never questioned my benevolence before. I was raised on the Scriptures. I knew what Jesus said about doing “unto the least of these”. Doing a kind thing was part of my nature and wasn’t it a kind thing to allow Blanche’s child to stay with her every day? So why, suddenly, did it seem as if the gift had come from Blanche?

Grace woke up thirty minutes later. She wandered onto the porch with her hair stuck straight out on one side and a crease on her cheek where it had rested on the table. She stared at me for a moment, then climbed into my lap as if she had sat there a hundred times before.

“Mama said to come keep you company.”

I patted her leg and we sat quietly watching the squirrels in the pecan trees until Blanche came to get Grace to take a bath. While she was in the tub, I walked to the JC Penney store downtown and bought a new outfit, complete with shoes and socks, for Grace. I came home to find Grace wrapped in a huge towel, sitting on the bed in the guest room. Blanche was rolling up Grace’s soiled clothing and putting it into a paper sack.

“What are you going to do with those?” I asked. I think part of me still hoped she’d call the police. I couldn’t imagine not reporting such a horrible violation as Gracie had endured.

“I’m not sure,” she replied.

“Don’t wash them yet.” I said, and prepared for the backlash I was sure would come.

“Hadn’t planned on it,” Blanche said.





Five





It was amazing how quickly things went back to normal, if you can ever call your life normal after such an event has taken place. Blanche told Grace that her ordeal had been nothing more than a bad dream. It’s not how I’d have handled it, but that’s probably not saying much under the circumstances.

As October settled in, Eddie stopped mowing my dormant St. Augustine grass and spent his time raking leaves, gathering pecans and mulching my flower beds with pine straw. A home as old as mine needed frequent upkeep and there were always odd jobs to do. Eddie seemed grateful for the extra money and completed each task with extraordinary care. He generally showed up early and left before Grace got off the bus in the afternoon.

Grace settled into her new routine and easily made herself at home, despite Blanche’s frequent admonitions to mind her manners and stay out of my hair. Blanche needn’t have worried and I told her so. Grace was precocious and curious, but not at all destructive and I enjoyed her company more than her mama would have imagined. She turned out to be a blessing, in more ways than one.

When Halloween rolled around, I got to sit and enjoy the Trick-or-Treaters going from house to house. Grace, filled with self-importance and utter glee in the witch’s costume I made for her, stood at the edge of the stoop and counted out exactly two pieces of candy for each child. The pigtails Blanche kept in Grace’s hair prevented a good fit for the pointed black hat I got at Woolworth’s. Each time she reached into the plastic pumpkin that held the candy, the hat tipped forward, rolling off her head and down the front steps. Blanche and I sat in our rockers on the porch and laughed until our sides ached watching that child. She wouldn’t hear of taking the hat off until I suggested she pour the candy from the pumpkin into the hat and distribute it that way.

When the foot traffic slowed, Blanche gathered Grace up and headed for home. Grace put up a fuss until Blanche promised to stop at a few houses on the way so she could collect some candy of her own. I refilled the pumpkin bucket and sat awhile longer on the porch to wait for latecomers.

Blanche and Grace had only been gone a few minutes when Skipper Kornegay showed up with three of his friends in tow. They were too old for costumes, but apparently not too proud to stand in line for candy.

“Hey, Miz Beckworth.”

“Hey, yourself.”

I wasn’t in the mood for hypocrisy.

“Nice evening, ain’t it?”

“It was.”

He gave a nervous laugh.

“Well, uh…Trick or Treat.”

“Aren’t you a little old for Trick-or-Treating?”

“Yeah, well, you’re never too old for candy, Miz Beckworth.”

He laughed again. I didn’t.

“I think you’re wrong there, Skipper. Comes a time when you have to put away childish things and face life like a man.”