Bugs, Weeds, and Water

Chapter 2

"Still, that doesn't excuse the other two," Verna persisted. "Have you at least got Zoey to stop telling tall tales at school about her father?" she asked.

Ruby rolled her eyes again, impatiently throwing herself down on a rock to sit.

"It's a phase," Aunt Flory sighed. "She'll grow out of it. She has an active imagination."

"Lying is lying, Flory. She's old enough to know the difference."

"You can't blame the child for being curious about her father," Aunt Flory argued. "She's trying to fill in the blanks in her life."

"By telling everyone he joined a traveling circus?" Verna exclaimed, smoke roiling over her head. "Never mind the Russian spy story."

"It was harmless enough," Aunt Flory said.

Zoey burned with embarrassment, wishing Verna would choke on her cigarette. 'She'd never actually said her father was in the circus or that he was a gypsy. She'd only said they were possibilities, which they were. When it came to her father, anything was possible since no one could prove otherwise. Who was Verna to say she was wrong?'

Aunt Flory shifted her weight on the porch, shooting a small ray of light across Ruby's skinned knee, illuminating a clay-colored scab. Delighted for the distraction, Ruby picked at it, slowly prying up the edges of the crust.

"Besides, who's to say what's true?" Aunt Flory continued. "Certainly not me. Many things I've assumed to be fact ended up as half-truths at best. Like my daddy always said, there's nothing slipperier than the truth."

"And my daddy always said, cutting off a mule's ears don't make it a horse," Verna said. "I swear, Florence Starling, sometimes you talk complete nonsense. How can you expect the girls to appreciate the value of the truth when you're just as guilty of dressing it up to suit yourself? What good does it do to fill their heads with nonsense?" She paused, filling her lungs with smoke again before letting it out in an exasperated sigh. "You should at least insist she keeps those stories at home. Norma has enough trouble keeping her class focused. And Ruby's no help," she added. "She goes along with whatever Zoey says."

Ruby looked up from her scab, scowling at Verna's mention of her name.

"And since when is Norma Birke an expert on the truth?" Aunt Flory asked, her tone tense at the mention of Zoey's teacher. "May I remind you that when we were young, she told us her mother slept on the front lawn most Saturday nights so she wouldn't be late for church on Sunday. It never ceases to amaze me how often the very people who are so adamant about defining the truth wouldn't recognize it if it kicked them in the rear end."

Verna was quiet as she took another puff of her cigarette, but Zoey assumed her expression was sour.

"Besides, the world is a different place for these girls," Aunt Flory continued. "They have to find their truth. Take Celeste, for example. Some people, including you, said she would never speak. Where would she be if I had believed that? Other people said I couldn't raise those girls on my own. Well, I'm proving them wrong on that count too." She stomped her foot above the girls' heads. "As for Norma Birke, I'm sure she's capable of dealing with an active imagination since she has one of her own." Her voice was stern but tempered with hurt. "Anyway, why was she complaining to you? I've told her over and over again to call me if she has a problem. Maybe if she listened more and talked less, her students would be more cooperative."

Zoey watched Verna grind her cigarette butt with her foot.

"She knows we're friends," Verna said gently. "She hates to bother you, knowing how much you have on your plate." She paused for a moment. "With their mother dead and their father a bigger mystery than the Bermuda Triangle, you've done more for those girls than any sister could ask. I only hope if there's a heaven, Rosemary knows how much you've sacrificed for them."

"Rosemary didn't ask anything of me; God rest her soul," Aunt Flory answered. "Her death was so sudden, I doubt she realized what was happening. I've done the best I can for my nieces but I never consider it a sacrifice. They mean as much to me as if they were my own. As for their father, you know as well as I do that if he hasn't shown up yet, he probably never will."

Verna cleared her throat and softened her tone. "It seems like Zoey's been bringing him up more frequently lately. I suppose it is only natural to wonder. Within reason, of course."

'Maybe she had a heart after all.'

"Zoey got into it again with me this morning, insisting I must know something about her father," Aunt Flory said.

"Again?"

"She's like a dog with a bone. Once she gets something in her head, there's no budging it. It doesn't help that half the town seems just as preoccupied with it as she is."

"Don't even get me started on those witless gossips," Verna snorted. "They have nothing better to do than stick their noses in where they're not wanted. As much as I disagree with you molly-coddling those girls, I'll never defend those nosy parkers. Not even on my worst day."

"They haven't always been kind to you either," Aunt Flory said, her tone gentler.

"So you honestly don't believe we'll ever know who their father is?" Verna asked as if she hadn't heard Aunt Flory.

Aunt Flory scoffed. "Not unless he comes forward on his own. I know as much now as I did then. My sister chose not to share that information with me." She sighed. "She must have had her reasons."

"Well, at least the girls have each other," Verna said with an uncharacteristic kindness in her voice. "That's more than most of us can say."

According to Aunt Flory, Verna had lost both her parents many years ago, and her sister, Margaret, died of cancer shortly after. Since she had never married and had no other family to speak of, Aunt Flory often said it was a lonely life for Verna Wilkes.

"I'm thankful every day that you and I have each other," Aunt Flory said kindly. Zoey imagined her scraping her teeth over her lip, the way she often did when she was considering something. "One thing is for sure. When it comes to Ruby and Zoey, there's no getting in between those girls. One builds a fire, and the other walks right into it. Thick as thieves, the two of them are."

"Thick as thieves," Celeste giggled beneath the porch, rocking Lancelot gently in her arms. Zoey put a hand over Celeste's mouth again, the texture of her skin sending a streak of vanilla across Zoey's tongue.

But once something lodged in her head, Celeste refused to be distracted. "Thimpatheese," Celeste mumbled thickly again, her tongue fluttering against Zoey's fingers. A splash of sugar tickled Zoey's tongue.

Luckily, Aunt Flory and Verna had gone back inside the house and hadn't heard Celeste above the clatter of the door. Verna's voice trailed after Aunt Flory into the kitchen.

"Thick as thieves, thick as thieves," Celeste chanted louder. Aunt Flory and Verna would soon hear her, even inside the house.

Desperate, she took Lancelot from Celeste and dropped him on the ground. "Look, Lancelot fell in the dirt," she said, uncovering Celeste's mouth.

"You did that on purpose," Celeste said as she picked him off the ground. Her brow furrowed in concentration, she began pulling gravel out of his fur. Keeping low, Celeste in tow, Zoey crawled out from beneath the porch, signaling for Ruby to follow.