7

 

Annabeth lay in bed, the cat snuggled against her side.  There was plenty of time before she had to leave for work.  She glanced at the clock.  Julie!  She still had some telephone calls to make for her sister, reminding people of various commitments for today's art show.  Fluffing up the pillows and piling them behind her, Annabeth sat up in the bed and reached for the list she'd left on the nightstand before retiring.  She placed the phone beside her in the bed and lifted the receiver to her ear.  There was no dial tone.  "Hello?" she said.

"Boy that was quick," said Laurel, "It didn't even ring."

"Hi, sweetie, how are you?  I was just going to make some calls for your aunt about today's art show."

"Guess what?" asked Laurel.

"What?"

"Southern Style."

"The magazine?" asked Annabeth.

"Well, yes."

"And?"

"And they're putting my apartment in it.  The November or December issue, I think.  They were here yesterday to photograph it for a section on New Orleans."

"You're kidding!  What did they photograph?"

"Pretty much the whole place.  Especially your paintings.  And all the furniture you painted."

"Well, gee, how about that."

"I thought it was exciting.  I mean it's not Architectural Digest or anything like that, but still it's kind of fun."

"I can't wait to see it."

"We did a great job.  I'm surprised Design isn't knocking at the door."

"I'm glad you're so happy, dear.  How are things otherwise?"

"Oh, the same.  How's the job?"

"You know, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry."  Annabeth paused before continuing, "I shouldn't joke.  It's fine really.  Charles and Chuck Gleason are both nice men.  I sell ice cream, do little displays, sometimes draw a sign for them."

"And I hear one of them is in love with you."

"What?"

"Sally says you've been out late twice since you started."

"Well, gee, a hamburger and an hour's conversation with my married boss. That's not exactly violins.  And how is your love life--now that's a real question."

"I've been dating this guy, Zach, if you must know."

"Yes, I must.  Tell me everything."  Annabeth listened as Laurel offered a few details describing her most recent boyfriend, then continued, "And how is your career?"

"It's great, really."

"I'm glad."

After completing Julie's errands, there was plenty of time before she was due at work, so Annabeth took some time to stroll along downtown at the sidewalk sale and arts and crafts show.  There were tables with hand made dolls, which Annabeth admired and a variety of pottery and leather exhibits.  One woman had taken some key racks and painted flowers on them, and Annabeth stopped to look at them more closely, smiling at the artist.  "I paint on furniture too," she volunteered.

"Oh, do you?  I've mainly stuck to these key racks and these little boxes."

"They're pretty."  Annabeth examined the boxes more closely, stacking a couple smaller ones on top of a bigger on.  "That makes a pretty display."

"Yes, it does look better that way.  Where's your table?"

"Oh, I don't have a table here.  I've never exhibited anything, though Etta has some of my things--the first I've ever done to sell."

"I saw those things at Etta's.  They're beautiful.  I love the birds.  Your things are full of life.  You could sell them at shows like I do."

"Well, thanks.  I never really thought of that."

"I don't make a lot of money, but I make some, and I get to do what I love."

"Excuse me," said a customer, "How much are these boxes?  The whole set, I mean?"

"I should let you go," said Annabeth.

"Take my card," offered the woman.  "Call me and I'll give you some pointers."

Annabeth took the card and walked off, ready to view the rest of the show.  There were a number of watercolor artists, specializing in seaside scenes, as was typical of any art show in that area, plus there were oils of families and children, paintings of oversized flowers, and a general assortment of drawings and paintings of a multitude of subjects.  Annabeth stopped to look at each artist's work, enjoying being part of it, and when she had covered half the displays spread over the grassy center area of town, she walked along the sidewalk, noting the bargains available.

There were tables filled with glassware in front of the antique mall, a bargain rack of clothing in front of Eunice's Dress Shop, and a display of furniture and cabinets in front of Etta's.  Etta herself was standing outside, helping a customer who was buying one of Annabeth's cabinets.

When the woman walked away, Etta called out to Annabeth.  "Hello! Having fun at the sale?"

"Yes, it's nice isn't it?  Fun to combine a sidewalk sale with the art show."

"I sold quite a few of your pieces, you know."

"No, did you?"

"All but the child's table and one cabinet.  Come on in with me."

Annabeth followed Etta into the shop and looked around.  "You've sold quite a bit of everything, haven't you?"

"Yes, we've been having a busy few days."  Etta reached under the counter and extracted a notebook, which listed the various items she'd sold of Annabeth's, and then she opened the cash register and counted out some money, which she handed over.  "Here you go.  I think you should plan on painting a couple more rockers for us right away.  Okay?"

Annabeth looked down at the cash. "This is more than you estimated.  Is this right?"

"I decided to price them a little high for the sale."

"That's great," replied Annabeth, clearly pleased.  "Somebody actually wanted them."

"Of course they did.  Now how about those rockers?"

"Okay, sure."

"I'll have Rum drop some pieces off at your house."

There were more artists displaying their work on the other side of the Pavilion, so Annabeth stepped out onto the grass once again and strolled some more, stopping to view each artist's work until she heard her name being called.  She turned and saw Doug Hawkins.

"We just bump into each other everywhere in town, don't we?" she asked, smiling.

"It's the best thing about living in a town this small."

"Doug, look at this."  A woman turned from an exhibit of watercolors and seeing him talking to Annabeth she walked closer, taking hold of Doug's arm.  She was rather slender and tall, although not nearly so tall as Doug himself, and her coloring was vivid--dark hair and alabaster skin, with bright crimson lipstick.

"Annabeth, do you know Patsy Clark?"

"Hello," Annabeth smiled.

Patsy tightened her hold on Doug's arm as she smiled back.  "Are you one of Doug's million happy customers?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I am."

"Annabeth and I went to high school together," interjected Doug.

"How nice.  I wanted to show you this painting.  So nice to meet you, Annabelle."

"It's Annabeth," corrected Doug.

"Nice to meet you too," replied Annabeth.

"Be sure to bring the car in for that seat belt check," said Doug.

"Oh, I keep forgetting.  I'll try to do it soon."

"Great."  Doug smiled at Annabeth then allowed himself to be pulled away by Patsy toward the watercolor exhibit she liked.

Annabeth continued her walk, and she enjoyed seeing the rest of the art on display.  Noting some people walking along eating ice cream cones, she decided to go on to the drug store, even though she was half an hour early.

"Annabeth!  I'm so glad you're here," said Debbie, the girl who usually covered the front register.  "We've been swamped."

Annabeth noted three people sitting on stools at the counter eating ice cream.  She took her place behind the counter and began waiting on people as they entered in search of something cool in the still warm weather of early September.  Close to a dozen people filed in and out, cones in their hands, and Annabeth enjoyed the busiest day she'd had since beginning her job.

A woman carrying one of Annabeth's small cabinets walked in and sat at one of the stools.  After fixing a hot fudge sundae for the woman, Annabeth listened as someone on a nearby stool struck up a conversation with her customer.

"What a cute little shelf."

"Thanks.  I know, here look inside.  There's a tiny bird hiding in the corner."

"Oh, how adorable.  Where did you get it?"

"Etta's Knick Knack Shop up the street.  It was a real bargain.  Maybe half of what it would cost back home."

"I'll have to check them out."

"I think this was the last one, but they have other, undecorated cabinets."

"It's the painting on it that makes it so cute."

Annabeth placed the ice cream in front of the woman with a smile.  She was tempted to reveal that it was her painting, but she remained silent.  Instead she said, "Enjoy your sundae."

Julie raced into the store at that moment, little Bobby in tow.  "Thank goodness," she said out of breath.  "I really need to leave him with you for a few minutes.  He dumped a whole box of T-shirts onto the ground."

"Gosh, Julie, I don't know.  We're pretty busy now."

"You'll be good for Aunt Annabeth, won't you, honey?"

Little Bobby nodded.

"Just give him an ice cream, will you?  I'll be back in a few minutes."

Before Annabeth could say another word, Julie dashed away, still breathless.

"You're going to have to be a really good boy, all right?  How about a dish of ice cream?"

Little Bobby nodded and sat quietly eating his dish of chocolate ice cream.  It didn't take him long to finish it and then he spoke up, "I'm ready to leave now."

Annabeth laughed, "Oh honey, I can't leave now.  I work here."  She looked under the counter, found a few sheets of paper, pulled a pen from her purse and set them in front of him.  "How about making me a drawing?"  Little Bobby drew a couple of dinosaurs, a house, two cars, and by then he was quite bored and began twirling on his stool.

Annabeth handed the last waffle cone to a woman who wanted a double scoop.

"Excuse me," said the next customer, "I'll have one of those."

The pizzelle machine was already heated up, and Annabeth was in the process of making more cones, but she couldn't make them as fast as she could sell them.  "I'm sorry--it will be a few minutes for a hand made cone.  We've been very busy."

The man nodded and Annabeth dashed back to the end of the counter where little Bobby was twirling madly.  "Bobby!  Don't do that.  You're making me dizzy."

Little Bobby stopped for a moment then twirled around again. 

Annabeth reached out her hand and caught him by the arm, halting his spin.  "Stop it.  I mean it.  Draw another picture."  She turned, removed the waffle, and folded the flat shape into a cone, placing it into the holder on the counter, then poured some more batter on the machine.  "I just want to let it cool a bit so your ice cream doesn't melt," she said to the man who was waiting.

Three high school girls came in chattering and laughing and asked for regular cones, which Annabeth prepared, sending them on their way.  "You've been awfully patient," she said to the man who was tapping his foot.  She reached for the cone, but at the same moment, little Bobby lunged for it as well, causing the stand to topple onto the floor, shattering the cone.

A Southern gentleman, the man refused to be rude, and instead said, "Maybe I better just have a sugar cone."

Annabeth sighed in relief, "Oh thank you."  She gave him extra large scoops on his double dip and offered him the cone, saying, "There's no charge."

"Why thank you," he replied and left.

Annabeth opened her purse, removed some money to pay for the man's and little Bobby's ice cream and placed it in the cash register.  She then leaned over toward little Bobby, saying "I want you to calm down this minute."

"I'm bored," he whined.  "I want to come back there with you."

There was a small stool where Annabeth sometimes sat during the deadest part of the day, and she placed her nephew on this seat and admonished him to stay there while she washed and dried the stand and replaced it on the counter.  She formed another cone, placed it inside and poured some more batter.

A couple of women came in then, taking seats at the far side of the counter, and Annabeth prepared their banana splits quickly. One of them looked toward little Bobby, who began to scream.  "Oh!" she exclaimed.

Annabeth turned to see her nephew with his hand on the pizzelle machine, which he quickly removed, then began to cry.

"Bobby!" she exclaimed, racing toward him.  His hand was badly burned, and she held it under a stream of cold water.  "Oh Bobby."

The child continued to wail as she held his hand under the water. 

Her voice grew soothing, "Come on now, calm down.  I know it hurts, but you'll be all right."

Charles came out from behind his pharmacist's window and he walked over to where Annabeth was tending little Bobby.  He took the child's hand in his own and examined it.  "Come with me, young man."

Annabeth watched as Charles applied a dressing and a bandage to her nephew's hand, and eventually the boy's howls subsided into whimpers.  Charles led him back to the stool, poured a soda from the fountain and gave it to the child.  He looked all around.  "Where's his mother?" he asked Annabeth.

Her stomach knotted in embarrassment and worry.  "He's my nephew.  My sister asked me to watch him for a few minutes.  She's running the art show outside.  I'm sorry...."

"Pretty inconsiderate of her to dump the boy on you like that when you're so busy isn't it?"

He wasn't angry at her even though little Bobby had caused a disturbance! Annabeth smiled gratefully at Charles.  "Well, she counts on me.  After our mother died I kind of raised her."

Chuck called from the rear of the store then, "Dad, could you help me with this?" and Charles went back as requested.

Little Bobby, now calmed, finished his soda with a giant slurp, gave himself another push, twirled around a few more times, and then leaned over and threw up.

"My God!" exclaimed Annabeth.  She raced to clean up the mess, washed little Bobby's face, her own hands, and was in the process of trying to catch her breath when Julie walked back in.

"Mommy!" exclaimed the boy, "I burned my hand!"  He thrust out the bandaged paw for her to examine, then continued, "And I threw up!"

"Annabeth!" Julie turned the hand this way and that, then touched her son's damp forehead.  "You let him burn himself and gave him so much ice cream he threw up?  What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry, I was busy."

"Too busy to pay attention to a child?  How is that possible?  To let him burn his hand like that!"  Julie took hold of her son's uninjured hand and tugged him away.

Annabeth, feeling guilty and upset, followed her sister to the door.  "Julie, wait."

Julie stopped, and Annabeth reached out to touch her shoulder.  "I'm sorry.  It's just been a very busy day.  I'm not used to working yet.  I didn't mean to take my eyes off him."

Julie scowled,  "It's okay.  You'll be fine, won't you?"  She looked down at her son who was listening to the argument with fascination. 

Annabeth feeling miserable, reached out and hugged her sister, who was wooden, yet still hugged back.  She turned back toward the ice cream counter to see Charles watching her with a strange, sentimental look on his face.

It had been a long, exhausting day, and Annabeth was glad when she could leave for home.  Sally sat on one of the porch rockers, waiting for her.  The nights were still warm, the water that everywhere seeped up from the ground in ponds and puddles and flowed in from the Gulf in bayous that were like twining tendrils on the ragged coastline, also rose into the air, creating a heaviness that lay upon the skin and soaked into the fibers of every garment.  It was warm but not unpleasant, and Annabeth waved to Sally as she pulled into her usual spot, slowly exiting the car.  Everything hurt.  How hard it was to work all day, to stand all day, to bend over that freezer and try to scoop the hard ice cream.  Her feet ached whether she stood or sat; the muscles in her back and arms had clenched, and she doubted whether she could make a fist because her hands were so sore.

"Mom," said Sally, "You look so tired."

Annabeth dropped into the rocker beside her daughter.  "I'm beat."

"Want to go inside where it's cooler?"

"In a minute.  Listen to all the frogs."

Sally nodded, having heard this so many times before.  "Let me get you something to eat at least.  How about a sandwich?"

"That would be great."

Sally was gone only a short time, and she returned with a ham sandwich, some lemonade, and a plate of cookies.

"Thanks," said Annabeth, biting into the sandwich.

"Mom, I need to talk."

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm going home to Jackson.  I just miss him so much."

"Of course you do.  Even though you are together every evening," Annabeth laughed.

"I miss living with him.  I miss waking up with him and falling asleep with him.  Jackson is the best snuggler."

"Sure."

"I know you need me here."

"Sweetheart!  I love having you here, but you have your own life and you should lead it.  I understand that."

"You do?"

"Of course I do."

"I just got so upset about the divorce.  About you being all alone.  About me being just like you."

"I know."  Annabeth put her hand gently on Sally's arm.

"But I don't want to break up with Jackson."

"Jackson is wonderful."

"I want to marry him."

Annabeth nodded.

"But I was thinking, it wouldn't hurt me to take a class or two.  I was thinking about bookkeeping.  I'm pretty good with math.  Then I'd have a profession, not just a job."

Annabeth smiled, "That's an excellent idea."

"I thought it would make you happy."

"It does make me happy, but what matters is that you're happy."

"Oh, Mom."  Sally's voice grew soft as she spoke these last words, then they sat there for a long moment, comfortable in silence, both rocking until Sally was ready to continue, "So is it all right if I go back tonight?"

 "Of course it is."

Annabeth sat, watching the tail lights of Sally's car grow fainter as she drove off until she rounded a curve and could no longer be seen.  She smiled, thinking of her daughter, so in love.  The night, like warm vapor all around her, drew her into a reverie and from that mist rose up memories of her own past, and she sighed softly, full of sweet longing, yearning for those days again.  R.J. was such a wonderful lover. She recalled the nights in his arms, the mornings they would wake up together and then slide closer, her head resting comfortably for a long time on his shoulder, his arm around her back, her hand a tender weight on his rough cheek.  She remembered the nights he would get in late, find her asleep, and how he would begin touching her and she would awaken all afire, ready to be smothered by R.J. and his need for her. Alone there on her porch, she blushed, envisioning all the things they'd done together, and all she wished to do yet.  She thought of the nights most recently when he was absent and she lay alone in that big soft bed, a sense of longing like a rage in her heart that could never be quenched, and sighing, she grew more melancholy, weary from the day and for the long night ahead.