While a full minute of silence fell between us, I realized there simply was no better way to sum up his character than to say this: my father, Carl Dwayne Honeycutt, was a total jerk.
But I had to admit that bringing my books was the nicest thing he’d ever done for me. And jerk or not, I at least had to give him that.
“Well, I can see this was a bad idea. Anyway, here,” he said, dipping his fingers into his shirt pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “I moved to Detroit, and this is my new phone number—in case you ever want to talk.”
He reached out and offered me the paper, but I clasped my hands behind my back. “I want you to be happy, CeeCee,” he said, placing the paper on top of a box. “I know you don’t believe me, but I do.”
He waited for me to say something, and when I didn’t, he turned, climbed into the car, and started the engine. As he pulled away from the curb, a light breeze blew the paper from the box. It spun end over end and swirled into the street. I left it there and watched my dad’s car disappear.
It was a familiar sight.
Fourteen
Early the next morning, Aunt Tootie carried her suitcase down the stairs while I followed behind with two hatboxes. She stopped in the foyer and turned to me. “Here, honey, just leave everything by the front door. Estelle will park out front.”
“How come you’re not driving to Raleigh?” I asked, setting the hatboxes on the rug.
“Estelle and I always take turns driving whenever we go out of town. This is her turn.” Aunt Tootie put her arm around my shoulders. “Are you sure you’re all right? This is such bad timing for me to leave, especially after what happened yesterday.”
“I’m fine.”
Though I never spoke of the things my dad and I had discussed, I figured Aunt Tootie had a pretty good idea that nothing good had come of it. I wasn’t even upset anymore, at least not like I was yesterday. I made up my mind that my father was just a chapter in my Life Book that finally came to an end. I actually felt relieved to have it over with. Besides, I got my books.
“I’m sure going to miss you,” my aunt said. “I’ll call every day.”
Estelle Trent pulled up in front of the house and beeped the horn. She and Aunt Tootie loaded the trunk, looking like a pair of aging twins—each wearing a flowery-print dress and a little straw hat. Oletta and I stood on the front steps and waved good-bye. The minute they were out of sight, Oletta headed for the kitchen and dialed the telephone. She talked for several minutes, and when she hung up, she grinned.
“It’s all set. Nadine and Chessie will pick us up tomorrow morning. We’re goin’ to Tybee Island to do us some fortune huntin’ and have a picnic.”
“We are?”
“Um-hmm. I asked Miz Tootie if it was all right, and she said yes.”
I let out a squeal and danced around the kitchen. “I’m so excited. I’ve never seen the ocean.”
“Well, then, you’re in for a big surprise.”
The alarm clock blasted me awake at six-thirty in the morning. I dressed quickly, my eyes still blurry with sleep. After tying the laces of my sneakers and grabbing the hat Aunt Tootie had given me, I bounded down the stairs.
Oletta was standing at the kitchen counter, packing a cooler with food. Wound around her head was a pink-and-green-striped scarf, and she was wearing a sleeveless dress splashed with giant orange flowers. Propped up by the back door was her fortune finder.
She looked up and smiled. “I made us a nice lunch. We got ham and cheese sandwiches, potato salad, lemonade, Coke, and raspberry cobbler. I even got a bag of them cheese puffs you like.”
I stood on my tiptoes and looked inside the cooler. “Wow, Oletta, there’s a lot of food in there.”
“The ocean will stir up your appetite something fierce—make you hungry as a bear.” As she closed the lid the phone rang. “That must be Nadine. I bet she’s runnin’ late,” Oletta said, heading for the phone. She talked for only a few seconds, and when she hung up, her face fell. “Nadine’s car won’t start,” she said, shuffling to the sink. “Looks like we’ll be staying home today.”
I was so disappointed I could hardly stand it. While Oletta washed out the coffeepot, I pulled a banana from the fruit bowl and plunked down at the kitchen table. I wanted to go to Tybee Island so badly I would have gnawed through a cement wall to get there. While looking out the window and half heartedly eating my banana, I got an idea. “I know how we can get to Tybee Island. Let’s take Aunt Tootie’s car.”
Oletta dried the coffeepot and shook her head. “Child, I haven’t drove a car in years.”
“But what about Nadine? She could drive it, couldn’t she?”
“There’s no way for Nadine and Chessie to get here. They don’t live on the bus line. I know you’re disappointed, I am too, but we’ll go to Tybee another time. C’mon, help me unpack this food and put it in the refrigerator.”
“How far away do Nadine and Chessie live?” I asked, handing her a container of potato salad.
“I don’t know mile-wise, but only about fi fteen minutes or so.”
Just then the phone rang again. “Oh, good,” Oletta said. “Maybe Nadine got her car started. Grab that for me, will you?”
I ran to the wall phone and answered. It was Aunt Tootie calling from Raleigh. We talked for a few minutes and then she asked when we were leaving for Tybee Island. I told her about Nadine’s car not starting, and though I was sure she’d most likely say no, I went ahead and asked if Oletta could drive her car. When Oletta heard me, she closed the refrigerator door with a sharp bang and shook her head.
Aunt Tootie was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “Sugar, would you please put Oletta on the phone?”
I stretched the cord across the counter and handed Oletta the receiver. She didn’t say much, just seemed to be listening. When Oletta said good-bye and hung up, she shot me warning look. “Now listen to me, and listen real good. Don’t ever speak for me again. Understand?”
“I’m sorry. Was Aunt Tootie mad?”
“No, she wasn’t. She said I could drive her car over to Nadine’s, but I ain’t gonna do that.”
“But why? Couldn’t we—”
“Hold your tongue and let me finish,” she said, wagging her finger. “I already told you that I ain’t drove a car in a long time. I wasn’t good at it back then, and I sure as blazes won’t be good at it now.”
“Okay,” I said sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Oletta. I didn’t know you were afraid to drive.”
The look on her face just about knocked me over. “Who said I was afraid?” she sputtered.
Clearly I’d hit a nerve. I stared at her, not knowing what to say.
“Oletta Jones ain’t never been afraid of anything or anyone,” she said, turning away with a scowl on her face. “I said I wasn’t good at drivin’ a car—I never said I was afraid.”
As she washed off the countertops, I settled at the table and began working on a crossword puzzle. But I couldn’t get Tybee Island off my mind. I leaned back in the chair and twirled my pencil from one finger to the next. “Oletta, how much did you get for that gold watch you found?”
“A hundred dollars,” she said, rinsing the sponge in the sink. “That was some lucky day.”
“Maybe, whenever we do end up going to Tybee Island, it’ll be another lucky day too. Just think, there could be a diamond ring or another gold watch out there, or maybe even a ruby bracelet. I hope Nadine gets her car fixed so we can go sometime soon.”
She dried her hands and gazed out the window, lips pursed. There was no mistaking the hunger for adventure that glittered in her eyes.
“Well, Miz Tootie did say it was all right with her. Guess there’d be no harm. If we leave now, it’s so early there won’t be many cars on the road.”
I jumped from the chair and threw my arms around her. “Oh, thank you, Oletta.”
“We better hurry up before I come to my senses.”
After she called Nadine, we quickly
put the food back into the cooler, grabbed the fortune finder, and hauled them both out to the garage. “Okay,” I said, closing the trunk, “let’s go have some fun.”
Oletta backed the car into the alley, her lower lip jutting out so far I could see the soft pink of her gums. When she nosed the car into the street, she leaned forward until her chin nearly touched the steering wheel. “Lord,” she said, inching toward the intersection, “if we get there in one piece, it’ll be a miracle.”
I laughed. “You mean if we get there before next week, it’ll be a miracle.”
“Now, you hush up and let me drive.”
We hadn’t gone three blocks when beads of sweat began trickling down Oletta’s face. “I should have my head examined,” she grumbled, nearly driving off the side of the road when a big truck passed us and tooted his horn. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this. Trouble is just waitin’ on us. I can feel it in my bones.”
I didn’t talk Oletta into anything—she did all the convincing herself. But I just smiled and kept that thought to myself. By the time we left the city behind and were rolling along a country road, she relaxed a bit and even seemed to be enjoying the sun-dappled scenery.
We drove in silence for a few minutes, and then Oletta let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sweet Jesus. We made it.”
Though there weren’t any cars in sight, she flicked on the turn signal and rolled the car into a narrow dirt driveway. A small wooden sign was nailed to the post of a mailbox, and written across the top were the words CUSTOM JEWELRY BY NADINE, and below that was STONE READINGS BY CHESSIE.
“Nadine makes jewelry?”
“Yes. She’s real good at it too. Got herself a nice business. She works part-time as a nurse over at the hospital, but she makes fancy beaded jewelry on the side.”
“What does Stone Readings mean?”
Oletta headed up the long driveway at a snail’s pace and said, “Chessie’s got a bag of old stones that have some kinda ancient designs on ’em. She claims they have the Power—whatever that means. People come to her when they’re in trouble or upset, and Chessie pulls out her stones and reads what they have to say.” Oletta shook her head. “She charges five whole dollars for one reading. That’s a lot of money to stare at a bunch of stones, if you ask me. But I guess some folks is willin’ to pay anything for hope.”
Ahead was a white clapboard house with grass-green shutters and a flamingo pink front door. As Oletta pulled up and parked the car, a short woman opened the front door and stepped outside. Her hair was gathered into a thick curly knot on top of her head, and she was wearing white pedal pushers and a stretchy orange tube top. She planted her hands on her hips, and in a voice of someone three times her size, she called out, “Oletta Jones, when you told me you was driving here, I thought you was tellin’ a tall tale.”
Oletta climbed out of the car, visibly relieved to have the driving over with. “You know I don’t lie, Nadine. But take a good look, ’cause after today, I ain’t never drivin’ again. So what’s wrong with your car?”
“I don’t know. The dealer just towed it away. Makes me so mad—I go and spend all that money on a brand-new Oldsmobile and what good is it?”
From around the side of the house there appeared a hefty, broad-shouldered man. His skin was as black as midnight and his hair was shorn close to his scalp. Baggy denim overalls hung shapeless over his faded plaid shirt. While ambling toward us, he waved and called out, “Hey, Oletta. I can’t hardly believe my eyes. ”
It was then when I realized the person in the overalls was not a man but a woman. A tall, barrel-shaped woman. I mean tall like a giant. And her hands? Well, it’s no exaggeration to say they were the size of rump roasts. Nobody would have guessed these two women were sisters. But they had generous, almost identical smiles, which they offered freely.
“We sure have heard a lot about you,” Nadine said.
Chessie looped her thumbs around the straps of her overalls and grinned down at me, as big and happy as you please.
“Well, let’s get a move on,” Nadine said, gathering folding chairs from beneath a tree. I helped her carry them to the car while Chessie went inside the house and hauled out a blanket and a red beach umbrella. They tucked everything into the trunk and hustled back inside the house. Nadine returned wearing sunglasses and a fluorescent green baseball cap. Over her shoulder she carried a fortune finder similar to Oletta’s. Chessie lumbered out of the house with an armload of magazines and a dark blue velvet bag cinched with a string.
“Sweet mother of all that’s holy, this is one fine automobile,” Nadine said, smoothing her hand over the hood of Aunt Tootie’s car. “Nobody makes cars like this anymore. Let’s put the top down.”
“No. We can’t do that,” Oletta said, shaking her head.
Nadine put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “And why not? Now, you tell me, what’s the sense in drivin’ a convertible if the top ain’t down?”
“I mean it, Nadine. No. Miz Tootie ain’t put it down in years. We can’t just—”
“Oletta Jones, you need to lighten up,” Nadine said, dismissing Oletta’s protests with a wave of her hand. She slid behind the wheel and searched the levers and buttons on the dashboard. “I think I’ve got it,” she called out. “Now, y’all stand back.”
She started the engine and a moment later there was a rusty squeak followed by a loud pop. The metal frame lifted high in the air, and slowly the canvas top folded into neat accordion pleats behind the backseat. Chessie was so excited she let out a whoop.
“C’mon, girls, hop in. Momma Nadine is gonna drive us to Tybee in style.”
Oletta gave Nadine a sharp look. “All that road dust is gonna fly in and make a mess.”
“Don’t worry,” Nadine said with a laugh. “I’ll drive real fast so it just blows away. Now, quit your frettin’ and get in.”
I jumped into the backseat, raring to go. Oletta, looking annoyed, climbed in next to me while Chessie eased herself down in the front. Nadine sat straight and proud as she turned the car around, and then she hit the gas and blasted down the driveway.
“Watch where you’re goin’!” Oletta yelped, slapping her hand against the back of Nadine’s seat.
Nadine glanced in the rearview mirror and arched one eyebrow. “Oletta, why are you so wiz-pickled? I’ve been drivin’ all my life, and I ain’t never had an accident.”
“Oh, yes, you did. You hit your old boyfriend Clem Riley, knocked him clean into a ditch. That poor man still walks with a limp.”
Nadine laughed. “I’ve got news, sistah, that wasn’t no accident.” She turned on the radio and scrolled through the stations. When she found a song she liked, she cranked up the volume.
Oletta joyously called out, “I love Martha and the Vandellas!” She began singing the words to “Nowhere to Run,” holding her clenched fist close to her mouth like she was singing into a microphone. Nadine and Chessie sang in harmony, the whole time moving their shoulders in ways I’d never seen. Though I tried to imitate the way they bobbed their heads and rolled their shoulders, I felt stiff and ridiculous. I must have looked ridiculous too because Oletta burst out laughing.
From her handbag she removed two pairs of sunglasses. “Here, I bought these for you,” she said, handing me a pair. They were bright red with lenses shaped like hearts.
“These are crazy,” I said with a giggle, leaning forward to look at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
Oletta slid on the other pair of sunglasses. They were shaped like cat’s eyes and studded with yellow rhinestones. She looked at me and grinned.
They were so goofy I collapsed against the seat and howled. I got a glimpse of what Oletta must have been like as a young girl when she called into the wind, “If you wanna be cool, then you gotta look cool. And Lord knows there ain’t nobody cooler than Oletta Jones!”
Fifteen
Streaks of gold shimmered in the morning sky, and off in the distance a string of cream-puff cl
ouds seemed to bump into the treetops. Nadine drove over a bridge that was surrounded by a swampy marsh. The thick scent of warm, muddy soil and stagnant water smelled both putrid and oddly sweet at the same time. There was something about its strange aroma that urged me to close my eyes and breathe it in.
Nadine turned down a road that had little cottages painted in all sorts of mismatched colors, parked the car beneath a pine tree, and cut the engine. “Okay, girls, let’s unload the car and get down to the beach.”
We pulled everything out, and after Nadine, Chessie, and Oletta tucked their handbags into the trunk, Nadine pushed it closed and shoved the keys deep into her pocket. With me holding one end of the cooler and Chessie the other, we followed Nadine and Oletta along a path that wound its way through a stand of trees, around a pair of dunes, and toward the sound of waves.
My first view of the ocean left me knee-deep in awe. Never had I witnessed anything that pulsed with such beauty and imminent danger at the same moment.
Oletta pushed the umbrella into the sand and asked, “So, what do you think of the ocean, child?”
I watched the waves roll and crash as mounds of white foam raced onto the beach. “It’s the most beautiful and scary thing I’ve ever seen.”
Chessie unfolded a beach chair and looked at me. “Everybody needs to respect the power of the ocean. Those waves can knock you clean off your feet and haul you under before you know it.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t go in the water,” I said, untying my sneakers and digging my toes into the sand. “I don’t know how to swim.”
Oletta’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t know how to swim?”
Nadine opened a bottle of Coke and took a sip. “All young’uns should know how to swim.”
“I remember the day my pappy took me and my sister, Geneva, down to the watering hole behind our house,” Oletta said, fiddling with her fortune finder. “We was just babies. He set us inside an old inner tube and waded us into the water. We kicked and splashed and had ourselves a gay ole time.” Oletta shook her head. “Seems like that was a hundred years ago.”