She mimicked my pose, folding her wiry arms and leaning across the counter until she was so close I had to resist the urge to straighten up. I could smell chamomile and wondered if she’d had tea earlier, or if she sold herbs, too, and I’d just never noticed.
She studied me, her smile never leaving her face, and then whispered. “Not a damn one.” Her grin widened until I thought her face couldn’t possibly crinkle any more. “Good try, though. If this storm leaves you be, why don’t you spend a little more time thinking about your own gifts, and a lot less time worryin’ about other people’s?
“Oh, don’t pout, dearest.” She pinched my cheek. “It was nice talking to you! Hopefully, I’ll see you after all this blows over.”
Clearly, I was dismissed; but as she bustled back toward the storeroom, I heard her chuckle.
“Pun definitely intended!”
Leaps
Eileen and I were quiet on the way home. The Bronco made plenty of noise for us both. At the last minute, I turned off River Road onto Sanders.
“Better fill up, sweetie. Just in case.”
She nodded, no stranger to hurricane prep. “Should we get some bottled water?”
“Didn’t we stock up when Nadine came through in November?”
“Yeah . . . ” She fell silent again, and I glanced over. She was chewing on her lower lip.
“What’re you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
I knew that tone well enough. Something was on her mind, but she’d only tell me after she’d thought it through by herself. She might be thinking about the hurricane, or she might be trying to decipher my mood after talking to Miss Hester. I held in a sigh. Looked like I had a fifty-fifty chance of not wanting to talk about whatever it was, so I decided not to press her.
I pulled into the cheapest station at Monkey Junction and let the Bronco growl its way hungrily to a pump. Such a gas-guzzler. I’d toyed with the idea of trading it in for a hybrid SUV when they’d hit the market years ago, but it had felt . . . disloyal. Even the Tri-fuels out this year weren’t tempting—though they should’ve been. But this old Bronc had never let my dad down, and had driven me in and out of my post-college, hippie days—it’d even been cross-country twice. I couldn’t abandon it just because it was a petroleum-sucking vampire.
Isn’t that right, you old beast? I gave it a mental pat and was surprised to see a bright blue angel spark and hover over the dash. Y’all like to four-wheel, too?
No answer. Just for a change.
After I’d filled up and withdrawn some cash from the pump’s ATM, I clambered back into the truck. Buckling in, I checked the receipt and shook my head before shoving it into my purse. “When I was your age, gas was less than a dollar a gallon.”
“Wow.”
Still not ready to talk.
I rerouted towards home and dipped back into my own thoughts. I wasn’t at all sure I’d accomplished anything by talking to Miss Hester—I wasn’t even sure we’d both had the same conversation—but I’d learned enough to have more questions. Why’d she mention her son was adopted? And why bring up the meaning behind his name? And what had happened that made my grandmother upset with her? All we’d really talked about was babies and gifts, and not even in complete sentences . . .
“Oh!” Babies and gifts!
“What?”
“Sorry, sweetie. Nothing.” She’d given me clues, but I’d been too obtuse to see them! The secrets were somehow connected with babies. All babies . . . ? Doubtful. Damn it! Why didn’t she just—
“Really, Mom? Whatever.”
Distracted from my revelation, I realized Eileen was glaring at the windshield, arms tightly crossed. I was tempted to reprimand her, but it wouldn’t have been fair. We both knew I was keeping something from her, and we both knew I was doing a lousy job of hiding it.
Eyes back on the road, I tried nonchalant reassurance. “Honey, it’s nothing. I just remembered I hadn’t checked in with Maureen on construction, and I need to keep up with the timeline so we have inventory . . . ” She kept sulking, eyes straight ahead and jaw tight. “Come on. Don’t be like tha—”
“Whatever. Maybe you can’t tell me everything, but I hate it when you lie to me.”
The road ahead was empty, and we were almost home. Our little family of two.
Try harder, Lila.
“I’m sorry, Leeni.” I reached over and extracted her left hand. She didn’t make it easy, but she didn’t jerk away, either. “You’re right. Completely. I shouldn’t lie. Lying is wrong.” I squeezed her fist. “Except when I really have to, so they don’t lock me up in a loony bin.”
As I braked for the turn onto our road, she relented and entwined her fingers with mine.
“Do you really think I can’t handle it? Is it that bad?” Her voice was small and sad, and my heart twisted with fresh guilt.
“No, sweetheart! It’s not like that at all!” In my rush to soothe her, I must have been convincing, and her grip relaxed. Safely off the main road, I let the Bronc roll to a stop, and turned to face her. “Sweetheart, listen. You’re the smartest person I know, and you’re old enough to notice when adults are keeping things from you—and I’m really sorry about that—but sometimes, we . . . I . . . just have to.”
“You never have before.”
I sighed. “Sure, I have. You were just younger. You didn’t notice.”
Her pout was impressive. “I guess. But don’t lie to me anymore, okay?”
“That’s a fair request. What do you suggest I do instead?”
A small grin crept across her face. “How about a code word?”
“A code word?”
“Yeah. Whenever you’re worried about . . . this thing . . . you can tell me you’re thinking about, oh, apples or something. I’m not sure what yet. I’ll tell you the word after I think a little
