Page 25 of The Night the Lights Went Out
Sugar was about to say no since she’d just learned what she needed to know for Dan, but her gaze strayed behind Merilee to the table in the hall and the small white book that sat on top of it. In a moment of weakness, she’d called Merilee and given Colin permission to use Jimmy’s bird books if he promised to be responsible and take good care of them. They certainly weren’t doing anyone any good sitting on the shelves. Sugar squinted at the book. She couldn’t read the title, but she knew what it was.Georgia Birds and Their Nests. She knew on page forty-eight there was a picture of a summer tanager and on page sixty-two there was a black-and-white sketch of a chipping sparrow in its nest. They’d been Jimmy’s favorite to spot, and below each picture were little pencil markings to keep track of how many times he’d seen one. And on page one hundred and six there was a small smear of blood on the bottom right corner, the ridges of Jimmy’s fingerprint faintly visible.
She looked back at Merilee. “I suppose. If you’ve got some of your sweet tea, I’m thirsty enough to drink it. It’s hot outside.”
“Of course. Come on back to the kitchen.” She opened the door wider to let Sugar pass through before taking the bag and plate and leading them both into the kitchen.
Sugar peered into the front room, where Lily lay on the sofa with her foot propped on the armrest, watching something on the television, a laptop open on her lap, her fingers furiously typing on the keys. Dirty plates and glasses and a bowl of popcorn littered the coffee table in front of the sofa. The girl was obviously not feeling too poorly.
Sugar sat down at the table while Merilee poured two glasses of her barely palatable sweet tea and placed the cookies on the table. She kept her back firmly against the chair, unwilling to get too comfortable. She was still trying to understand what had made her tell the story of Rufus and Lamar. And Jimmy. Maybe it was the boy, Colin, and how much he reminded her of her youngest brother, the soft lankiness of him. His enthusiasm for the world in which he lived and his unconcern for things like shoes and napkins and cleanliness. Theboynessof him that made Sugar miss her brother as much now as she had when he was first gone. Just the whiff of boy sweat clinging to Colin’s skin made her remember. Made her want to cry all over again. And that was something she was not prepared to do.
“Would you like a cookie?” Merilee asked, passing her the plate.
“No, thank you. I’m watching my figure.” It wasn’t true, but she said it anyway, trying to keep some distance from this woman and her children yet finding it more and more difficult. She took a sip of her tea, looking at the dark shadows under the other woman’s eyes, the fingernails that were ragged and short. They had too much in common, and it unnerved Sugar. Made her feel as if she were standing on a red anthill and couldn’t move out of the way.
Merilee cleared her throat and Sugar got an odd satisfaction at the thought of the younger woman needing to find the courage to speak to her. “Wade told me that you might have some old maps of your family’s property, from before all the subdivisions and the golf course. I love old maps—I’m kind of a collector, actually. I’d love to see them if—”
“I don’t have them anymore,” Sugar said, cutting her off. “Or they’re buried so deep in my attic that it would take weeks to dig them out. I’m sorry.” Although she wasn’t.
A movement outside caught her attention, and she turned her head to see Colin in the tree swing, holding what she was sure was another one of Jimmy’s bird books, then looking up into the tangled leaves above him.
“Thanks for letting us borrow your brother’s books,” Merilee said, her voice not completely hiding the hurt she must have felt at Sugar cutting her off so abruptly. “I can’t tell you how much Colin’s been enjoying spotting the various birds. He saw a redheaded woodpecker yesterday. Can’t stop talking about it. Which is a relief because I’m getting tired of hearing about how he needs a dog and if he finds a stray he’s keeping it.”
Something stirred in the place inside Sugar’s chest where her heart was supposed to be. “I’ll call animal control to come find that dog if you think it’s real.”
“I’m not sure if it is or not—only Colin’s seen it. But I’m torn about letting him keep it—assuming it’s real and he finds it.”
“Don’t.” She hadn’t meant to say anything. Hadn’t meant to get involved. But there were some things that were hard to forget, despite the cushion of years.
“Why do you say that? Most of my friends say children—especially boys—should grow up with a dog. Teaches them about responsibility and how to care for someone besides yourself or your family.”
Sugar allowed a soft smile to touch her lips, looking out at Colin but seeing another boy. Another time. “Jimmy had a dog, Dixie. She was just a small white mutt, and she was supposed to be mine, but every dog we had always chose Jimmy as its favorite. She slept at the foot of my bed as a sign of respect, I guess, and because I fed her, and loved her with all my heart, but she was always at Jimmy’s side. Even at the end.” Her voice slowed for a moment. “But that was my choice, not wanting to be there. My mama taught me that if you wanted to pretend that something never happened, then turn your head and don’t look.”
She didn’t ask Merilee if she wanted to hear the story, because by then it was too late. She was already lost in the memories, a reminder that, in the end, that’s all a person had left.
• • •
SUGAR
1935
I watched Jimmy and Lamar stomping on the maypops that had fallen from the pretty purple flowering vine that Daddy had once planted outside Mama’s bedroom window in the years back before he’d given up on trying to make her happy. I sat on the back porch steps, just watching them and listening to the popping sounds as they splattered each round ball. I wanted to tell them that we could be eating them instead of squishing them, but I didn’t. I was stuck somewhere between being a grown-up and being a little girl, and I was still trying to figure out which side I was on.
Since Rufus had died, more than a year before, I’d grown up. Not just taller, but inside my head, too. And in my heart. I used to love squishing the maypops, the soft liquid burst under my feet—just the sound making me happy. Jimmy and Lamar were practically the same age as me, but I was too grown up now to go over to the tree and start stomping.
I was so busy listening to the maypops that I didn’t realize Dixie wasn’t with us until I heard whimpering coming from under the porch, soft and breathy, like the sound of clean sheets sliding against each other when you’re making a bed. I crouched down and that’s when I saw her. Her white fur on her back paw was dark red, crusted with dry blood, but most of it fresh. She was trying to lick her bloody paw, but that must have hurt, too, because every time her little tongue would touch it, she’d whimper again.
“Jimmy! Lamar! Come here quick! Dixie’s hurt.”
Jimmy was the one who went under the porch to get her. I don’t know anybody else she would have come to, hurt as she was. She was a small thing, and fit in his arms, but when he lifted her up I saw the animal trap still stuck on her, her small leg bent the wrong way.
Lamar put his hand under her muzzle and she rested her head on him, her eyes really dark, as if they were holding in all of her pain.
“Squirrel traps,” Jimmy said, halfway between being angry and being about to cry.
“But Daddy told Harry not to set them out, that we have too many cats and Dixie and they could get hurt.” I was crying now, too angry and sad to care. And too full of hate for my older brother to think about anything else.
Daddy opened the back door, his napkin still tucked into the top of his shirt from supper. “What’s all this noise? Can’t a man read his paper in peace?”
I ran up the steps, throwing my arms around his soft middle. “Dixie’s hurt—she got her paw in one of Harry’s traps, and her leg is broke. We need to take her to the doctor.”
