Love Mercy Part 12

SIXTEEN.

Rett Oh, my dear little Loretta," Polly cried, when Rett climbed out of Love's truck. The old woman's wrinkled cheeks were a s.h.i.+ny rose color. "I'm your great-grandma Polly, and I never thought I was going to see you again this side of heaven!" She came down the front steps of the brown and white two-story clapboard ranch house.

Rett walked tentatively across the mottled gra.s.s toward the woman who was dressed in a full print skirt, a high-necked white blouse and new-looking red sneakers. On the fifteen-minute drive to the ranch, Love told her a little about the Johnsons, Rett's great-grandma and great-grandpa, how the ranch had been in the family for almost a hundred years, how August once worked at some famous guy's ranch, Hertz or something, who built a castle for his girlfriend. The castle was somewhere around here. She told Rett how Polly had made a hundred quilts by hand to give away to foster kids. It was like some weird dream or a Lifetime cable movie.

Rett let the woman hug her and ramble on while Love unloaded the bags of milk, b.u.t.ter and cheese they'd bought at the grocery store. The woman-her great-grandma-smelled like cinnamon and flowers. Rett circled the woman's narrow shoulders with her own arms, feeling like a complete idiot. What was she supposed to say?

"Uh, it's good to see you too." Now that sounded totally lame and bogus. Why hadn't she thought up something cool to say? Some creative artist she was.

"Come in, come in," Polly said. "Do you like chicken salad? I baked a peach pie this morning. Peaches from our own trees from last summer. Used my last frozen bag. They weren't as good this year as last, but still pretty tasty." She glanced over at Love. "Do you need any help, sweetie?"

Love smiled at them both. "You two just go on in. I can manage."

Polly looped her arm through Rett's and practically pulled her up the steps. When they got to the top step, an old man came out of the front door. He wore a pair of faded overalls and a plaid s.h.i.+rt. He stooped a little at the shoulders, reminding Rett of the gnarly old apple tree that grew in the backyard of their house in Knoxville.

"Now, who is this?" the old man said, not moving toward Rett.

"This is Loretta," Polly said. "Your great-granddaughter from Tennessee. "Loretta, this is your great-grandpa August."

August stared at her a moment, then he smiled. "Oh, Polly, you kidder. You think I don't know my own baby sister, Agnes?" He came over and hugged Rett. "You're looking good, Aggie. How's things in Kansas City? That husband of yours keeping you busy?"

Rett turned her head to look at Love, who had just come up the steps in time to hear the old man's comment. What was she supposed to do now? Did this crazy old guy really think she was his sister in Kansas City?

"August, quit your teasing," Polly said, her smile stretching across her face. "Let's go have lunch." She moved past Rett and opened the wooden screen door, letting it slam behind her with a thunk.

"How about giving your favorite daughter-in-law a hug, August," Love said, rescuing Rett, trying to communicate something with her eyes, though Rett couldn't figure out what.

"You wait your turn," he said, giving a deep, rumbling laugh. "I haven't seen Aggie in years."

"This is Rett," Love said evenly, holding out a bag of groceries.

He automatically reached for it, letting go of Rett. Rett moved quickly away, not sure what was going on here.

"Rett?" he said.

"Yes, this is your great-granddaughter, Loretta Johnson. But she likes to be called Rett."

He smiled over at her, touched a free finger to his green sun-faded Farm Supply cap. "As in Butler?"

Rett was on familiar ground now. Old people always said that. "Yeah, except there's no h in my name. And I'm a girl."

"Well, so you are," he said. "Hope you like peach pie, Rett who is a girl." He opened the screen door and went inside without waiting for her answer.

"What's going on?" she whispered to Love.

Love touched her bottom lip with her fingers. "Aggie was his little sister who died sixty years ago. He gets a little confused sometimes."

A little? Rett thought. Get a clue, Grandma. He thinks I'm a dead woman.

"Let's just go in and enjoy lunch," Love said with a sigh.

"Whatever," Rett said under her breath, following her into the house. What was she supposed to do if he called her Aggie again, pretend that she was this dead woman?

Rett could tell everyone was on edge, trying to be friendly. She wished she could just tell them to chill, that she wasn't going to bite. Then again, it was kind of cool, in a mean-girl sort of way, to be the one people were trying to impress. Usually it was she who was all nervous and shaking in her boots.

They ate in the dining room seated at a round oak dining table with claw feet. There was enough food to feed twenty people.

"We'll eat like fancy folks this time," Polly said, "because it's your first visit. After this, it's lunch at the kitchen table like any other member of the family."

Love winked at Rett. "I had to marry their son before I was allowed to eat in the kitchen."

"That's when you became family," Polly said, completely serious. "Rett was family the moment she was born."

Rett looked at Love, expecting her to be mad. It seemed like kind of a snarky remark. But Love just smiled.

After lunch, her great-grandpa suggested taking Rett on a tour of the ranch.

"We can all go," Love agreed.

"I'll stay here," Polly said when Rett helped her carry the dirty dishes into the big yellow and blue goose-themed kitchen. "I've seen every inch of this ranch a million times. When you get back, we'll have peach pie with ice cream."

When they went to the barn, Love argued with August about who was going to drive the jeep. The rust-eaten vehicle was from the fifties and it no longer had windows and the winds.h.i.+eld had a long crack down the pa.s.senger side. Rett would have loved to have driven it, but she wasn't in the running.

"I need the practice on the stick s.h.i.+ft, Pop," Love said, climbing into the driver's seat.

He grumbled but took the front pa.s.senger seat, anyway. "Women these days. You all want to run the world."

"Yes, sir, we do," Love said, starting the engine. "You know it all began during the war when they let us start wearing pants." She turned and gestured at Rett to hop in the backseat. "Why don't you tell Rett what you did in the war? She hasn't heard your stories a hundred times like the rest of us."

"You're the youngest," Love said when they came to the first gate. "That means you're in charge of the gates."

"I'm what?" Rett said.

"You jump out and open and close the gates behind us," August said, chuckling. "Youngest cowboy always gets that job."

She didn't mind it too much except that each gate seemed to have a different kind of lock or homemade hooking system so each one took her forever. Couldn't these people, like, buy one kind in bulk at Costco?

They drove around the ranch on narrow dirt roads Love told her were built by August; her grandfather, Cy; and her father, Tommy. After pointing out different wildflowers and trees, so many that there was no way Rett would remember them all, August told stories about his time as a signalman on a s.h.i.+p-the U.S.S. Teal-outside the Aleutian Islands during the war.

"I couldn't wait to get back to California," he said, turning back to give Rett a wide, yellow-toothed smile. "No siree, Bob. We knew what war was. And it was cold up there! Makes a man appreciate the Central Coast. But sometimes I miss it. Wonderful men I worked alongside. You kids now don't know squat about fighting a real war. Our war was a real war."

"You mean Vietnam?" Rett asked, not exactly certain where the Aleutian Islands were. The shocked look on his face made her realize her mistake. "Oh, I get it. World War II. Like my-" She almost said boyfriend's. "My banjo. It's a prewar Gibson."

August's wrinkled lips turned up in a smile. "You play banjo?"

She nodded, feeling on more comfortable ground now. "Also the guitar, some mandolin and a little fiddle. But mostly I like the banjo."

"Do say," August said. "Maybe you'll play for us sometime."

"Sure," Rett said, embarra.s.sed now that she'd bragged about an instrument that wasn't technically hers. The thought of giving it back made her stomach hurt. That was stupid. Was she in love with Dale or his banjo? His dark eyes suddenly painted themselves inside her head, and she s.h.i.+vered, remembering the feel of his full bottom lip. She blinked quickly, trying to outrun the tears. Would she ever be able to think about him without feeling like she'd been slapped in the face? What was it going to be like to see a reminder of him every time she saw her niece or nephew? What if he and Patsy got married? She pressed a fist on her stomach, feeling like she was going to throw up.

Love didn't join the conversation, though Rett thought she saw her grandma's back stiffen when Rett called it her banjo. Fine, so her grandma thought she was a total thief. Who cared? Except that deep inside, Rett knew she really did. She wanted her grandma to . . . she wasn't sure what . . . be proud of her? Why did she care about what someone who didn't even know her thought?

After the hour-long tour, when they were back in sight of the ranch house, Love brought the jeep to a stop under a huge oak tree in the middle of a smooth pasture.

"This was where your grandpa and I got married," Love said. "So did Polly and August."

Rett jumped out of the jeep to look closer at the huge oak tree. Its trunk was scratchy to her touch and about a million shades of gray and brown. A black lightning-shaped mark scarred the trunk. "Did Mom and Dad . . . ?"

Love shook her head. "Your mom preferred getting married at the Episcopalian church in San Celina. It is a beautiful old stone church."

"We call it the lightning tree," August said. "That mark's been there since I was twelve. Remember the storm that brought it. Flooding like I've never seen before or since. We lost fifty head of Angus. Ever so often one of the newspapers does a story on it, sends out a person to take a picture."

"Cool," Rett said, running her fingers over it.

After pie and ice cream, Rett and Love started back to Morro Bay with the promise they'd come on Sunday to help decorate the Christmas tree. Rett was thankful that her grandma didn't want to talk on the drive back. She was exhausted from trying to make conversation with old people. It was three thirty when they returned to Morro Bay.

"At five thirty I have a weekly dinner with a good friend of mine," Love said, while they put away the leftover food pressed on them by Polly. "You're welcome to come. It's at my favorite restaurant down on the Embarcadero. Best fried shrimp on the coast." She opened the freezer door and started putting plastic bags of peaches and strawberries in the almost-empty s.p.a.ce. "Do you like fish?"

Rett thought for a moment. She loved fried shrimp, but the idea of spending time with more old people seemed like more than she could handle.

"It'll only be about an hour," Love said. "I think you'll like Mel."

Rett looked at her grandma in surprise. Her friend was a man? Was he, like, her grandma's boyfriend or something? Now she was curious. "Okay."

Her grandma pointed to the Embarcadero from her back porch. It was a long street that ran along the bay. "At one time," Love said, "this town's whole ident.i.ty was wrapped around the fishermen and their boats. But the biggest thing for sale now is our quaintness. That and salt water taffy." She gave a wide yawn. "I think I'll take a quick nap. Feel free to watch television or whatever. Oh, there's some photo alb.u.ms next to the sofa. Lots of photos of your dad. Some of you girls."

After her grandma's bedroom door closed, Rett was tempted to call Lissa and see if she'd heard from Dale again. But she resisted. She only had nine minutes left on her phone, and she needed to save them. Instead, she sat in the living room and looked through the photo alb.u.ms.

Even when her dad was in high school he didn't look much different than he did at twenty-three, the age he was when he was killed. Her mom didn't have many early pictures of Dad, so this was really weird for Rett, seeing him grow up in these photos. Since her grandma Love wasn't in most of them, she a.s.sumed that she'd taken them. She'd noticed the old Nikon sitting next to Love's chair on the sunporch. It wasn't a digital, so her grandma must take pictures the old way. That would be hard, she thought, 'cause you really didn't know what you were getting; you kind of had to do it by faith. Digital was so much better.

There were a few pictures of her and her sisters, though they ended after Rett was four, obviously when her grandma and her mom stopped talking. She studied her grandma's wedding photos, Love and Cy posed under the lightning tree. There was another photo of Mom and Dad underneath the same tree, a photo that Rett had never seen before. Dad's grin was as big as a pie plate, and Mom squinted into the sun, sort of half smiling. He wore a plaid s.h.i.+rt and jeans, and Mom wore a short denim skirt, a yellow tank top and about a dozen thin bangle bracelets. Rett remembered playing with those bracelets when she was a little girl. For some reason, the photo made Rett sad.

Two hours later, after feeding Ace, they started for the restaurant. Though they could see the Embarcadero from the cottage's back porch, they had to walk around the corner and down two blocks to reach it. It was colder than Rett expected, and she was glad that Love suggested she bring the blue hoodie that her grandma bought at the drugstore.

"It's crowded like this on Fridays," Love said, as they walked along the street that was filled with T-s.h.i.+rt shops, gift boutiques and fish restaurants. "During the summer or holidays, people from the Valley come here to escape the heat or just have a weekend away. The locals like to complain about them. But I've got many friends who live in the Valley. They remind me of my cousins back in Kentucky. Good-hearted, hard-working people without a lot of pretense."

"Valley?" Rett asked. "What valley?"

Love laughed and opened the s.h.i.+ny red doors of the Happy Shrimp restaurant. It stood between a tiny bookstore called Books by the Bay and a salt water taffy store called Louann's Taffy. "The Central Valley. Haven't you ever looked at a map of California? The Central Valley is one of the biggest sections of farmland in the United States."

"Oh," Rett said, feeling halfway dumb and halfway that she didn't care. She didn't want to ask any more because already she was beginning to catch on that her grandma liked to tell stuff to people, kind of like a teacher. It was okay, except that Rett sometimes had a hard time paying attention, especially when it was something she wasn't that interested in.

There was a line when they walked in, but Love moved past the people and gazed around the crowded restaurant. Three of the restaurant's walls were windows and, since it was dark, Rett could just barely make out Morro Rock, lit tonight by a cartoony crescent moon. There were pictures of shrimp everywhere: realistic, cartoons and some bold paintings showing shrimp wearing different types of hats. Love waved at someone and turned to Rett, "Mel's already got a table for us."

Rett followed her to a table in the corner where a dark-haired thirty-ish woman was standing up, one hand held high. Oh, c.r.a.p, Rett thought. Mel was a woman. And not just any woman. She was the woman Rett flipped off yesterday in the b.u.t.tercream.

"Hey, Love," the woman said, giving Rett a cursory glance.

"Hey, yourself," Love replied. She turned to Rett. "This is my friend, Melina LeBlanc. She likes to be called Mel. Mel, this is my granddaughter, Loretta Johnson. She likes to be called Rett."

"Hi, Rett." Mel's face held no expression.

"Hi," Rett said, feeling her face turn hot. What in the heck should she do now? Had this woman told her grandma that Rett flipped her off?

Before she had to think of something to say, the waitress came and reeled off the specials, all of them fish of some kind. Rett didn't hear a word and just ordered the shrimp and chips and a c.o.ke.

"How was your day with Polly and August?" Mel asked, looking first at Love, then Rett. Rett's churning stomach calmed a little. Maybe this woman wouldn't tell her grandma that Rett gave her the finger. For some reason, she didn't want Love to hear about that. It was bad enough she thought Rett was a thief.

"They were thrilled, of course," Love said. "August and I took Rett for a tour of the ranch."

"What did you think?" Mel asked Rett.

Rett shrugged. "It's okay, I guess. It was pretty."

"Don't let your enthusiasm drown out the crowd," Mel said.

Rett glared at her. "I said it was pretty." What else did this woman expect her to say?

"So," Love interrupted. "What interesting people did you see today, Mel?" She looked sideways at Rett. "Mel runs B & E Feed over by the fire department. Your grandpa Cy and I used to own it. Mel worked for your grandpa."

Whoopee, Rett thought. She picked up a package of oyster crackers and started crus.h.i.+ng them with her fingers.

Mel started telling Love something about a saddle and a cowboy named Oscar. Rett tuned them out and for the rest of the meal stared out the window at the sailboats bobbing on the moonlit purple and blue bay. The musical murmur of voices, the mysterious smell of the ocean, the briny taste of salt on her lips, the damp chill that seemed to reach into her bones, the foghorn in the distance, all those sensations made her feel like she was in a dream. Her life in Tennessee, Dale, Patsy, her mom, Lissa, her messy bedroom seemed like a life she'd lived years ago. And the thing was, she didn't miss it. Not any of it. Not even Lissa. She was ready to start a new life. She didn't care if she ever saw any of them again. Even Dale. Especially Dale.

"Anything else I can get you ladies?" the waitress asked, laying the check down on the table.

"Would you like dessert, Rett?" her grandma asked.

Rett looked down at her plastic basket, surprised to see that she'd finished everything. She didn't even remember eating. "No, thanks."

"I guess we should head on home," Love said. "Rett should probably get to bed early since she was not feeling well yesterday."

"I wasn't that sick," Rett said, irritated that Love was kind of trying to tell her what to do.

"Listen to your grandma," Mel said. "She's had a bit more experience than you at those sorts of things."

Rett had to hold back the urge to flip Mel off again. She acted like she was queen of the universe or something. Rett gave her a phony smile. "Who died and left you prison guard of the world?"

"Rett!" Her grandma gave a quick, nervous laugh.

Mel's bottom lip tightened, and Rett could tell she was holding back a reply. Though she'd never admit it, this lady kinda scared Rett. She looked like she'd go all Columbine on you.

"Let's call it a night," Love said evenly, standing up. "We'll see you at the lighted boat parade tomorrow night, Mel." She fumbled with her purse, searching for her wallet.