Silly start....

[Sam]

Thank you Tyler for continuing on. Please do not leave us hanging so long again. LOL

Sam

[mrs. red]

i want to see what happens to Buddy and the narrator next....  

[Tylergal]

Only four blocks away from here was the group that I had loved, hated and lived with for so many years, some of whom I had never seen since we graduated high school, and today I wanted to be away from them, to let them share their memories and I wanted to go back in time with my own.  My memories were not with Katie, not with Norm, not with Steve.  My memories were locked in the Pandora’s box that was opened many years ago but closed just as quickly and today, Erma in her own way and I in my own, were going to unlock the boxes one more time.

With the ease of a captain of a fine yacht, I turned the wheel of my car and slowly moved along into the driveway and near the garage and just as I approached, the garage, the door opened.  There was a time when I parked my mother’s car here many years ago, a time when the garage had no electric eye.  My, what would I have given for one back then, but today it had one.  Wonder if Ginger had ever needed it or Tush.  Ginger and Tim had kept the house the way it looked when Buddy lived here but more up to date.  I am sure now she has the most sophisticated dishwasher, garbage disposal and other accoutrements not available to the house when it was built.  When it was built ? I wondered when it was built.  I think I heard around 1830 but I was not sure.  Buddy’s family had built it. His family was always in the textile, wholesale grocery and farming business.  They had always been here.  Buddy was the first to escape.  I thought on it for a moment, wishing someway, somehow he had stayed as nothing was quite the same without his family being the premiere family, their property still being theirs, but Ginger and Tim had bought it a few years after Buddy graduated law school.  I heard that his father died while on a business trip and Topaz having always yearned to live abroad, moved to Europe. Buddy not wanting to return here to live, given his very well established and lucrative law practice, did not want the care-taking and maintenance withTopaz leaving it unoccupied.  

I checked my lipstick and makeup, tidied it up, and opened the door.  Ginger was standing at her back door.  The free-standing garage was about 30 feet from the back door that led through what was a mud room for Topaz and I was anxious to see what it was now.  

The leaves were falling, bright green leaves were now becoming yellow, brown and red. They crinkled under my light steps and the smell of barbecue and football laws overwhelming, the smell of clean cheerleader uniforms. It smelled like all the Saturdays I had spent in this town, all the excitement and the memory of this day years ago were as fresh as the bed linens on Topaz’s bed, and as it was that day the first time I had seen her bedrooms, although the fear today was gone, because it was in the past, a past I longed to forget but savored.  Ginger was gleeful.  She always was.  Her mouth was very accommodating of all the white teeth she had.  I think she had more than most people and the bluest eyes I ever saw, like pools of water that smiled and her lips pouted until she smiled which was far the most of the time.  Her lips were naturally very pink and the softness flatters her warm chestnut hair.  I never recall her wearing makeup.  She is a good 5 inches taller than I am and her arms are long and thin and she is always reaching for the next person to hug with her glamorous personality that is neither seductive or beguiling, but happy and welcoming.  She was a modern day version of Loretta Young.  She almost ran to greet me and hugged me, already telling me before I could think of anything but the oak leaves falling and the sound of high school band in the background what to say, how happy she was I had come, how beautiful I still was and a million things all at once.  Ginger always loved me.  I was closer to her than her sister.  She told me everything and more things than I wanted to know.  She confided in me to the point that I often would be brought to tears, feeling too depressed to go to school but knowing I always must forge head, yet I was often too disgusted from hearing the private matters between her and her lovers. She charmed men and women alike.  It was a gift she had inherited from her beautiful mother.  Tim was very successful when they married.  Ginger was pregnant and Tim knew but I wondered if he knew or ever found out the baby was not his.  While I was preparing to leave for college she had married Tim.  I did not want her to marry him but I knew she had no choice.  It was after all a small town and she was pregnant.  She was already showing even in her gathered full skirts under which she wore a closet full of petticoats in an effort to make the skirts stand out more to conceal her tummy.  She encouraged me to feel it.  I really did not want to.  I loved Ginger but I could not imagine all that I knew about her, about her pregnancy and the problems it was going to cause.  I went off to college that fall after she married Tim.  Mother rarely mentioned Ginger when I returned and Randall never did.  If I mentioned Ginger, someone changed the subject.  I never had the opportunity after I went off to school to gossip with grandmother.  Mother was always there when I came home, she was lording over me and controlling me still.  

As soon as we were inside, Ginger offered me a cup of tea.  Oh, the house looked so much the same.  The hardwood floors smelled the same way, the cherry furniture, the oriental rugs.  Ginger was always a tea drinker and it was with her that I had come to love drinking hot tea.  We often had hot tea when we were listening to her secrets of the night.  

We sat sipping the tea and her eyes were still smiling.  I was mesmerized that her eyes still looked this way even when eating and drinking, and wanted to ask if she had had plastic surgery so that they stayed in a permanent smile.  No droopy eyebrows, no wrinkles.  I was sure she had had plastic surgery but could see no scars.  

I was reluctant to ask her about Tim, not knowing how their relationship was.  I had seen Tim very few times after she married him and I never knew if he would be in a good mood with Ginger or not and never knew if his foul moods were because I was nearby or if he was just a closet schizophrenic.  He was a good businessman.  He had capitalized on the older families’ movements when their children approached the legal age, often moving on to larger towns, and Tim would swoop in and buy property from them at good prices and as the years went by he had been able to turn his small real estate business into one that included his best shopper Uncle Sam.  The government needed a lot of land for a military instillation and he had sold that, did well before military bases started getting cut backs.  He was as well buying the empty factories around town from Buddy and turning them into warehouse apartments where the new up-and-coming rich yuppies would live.  Tim had bought the old stockyards and cattle auction after Mr. Simmons was unable to manage them any longer and having no male children to follow in his footsteps, a son-in-law who expected everyone to work for him, Mr Simmons sold it to Tim.  Tim had done well with it.  He had enlarged it, bought cattle of his own, hired the right people to manage it and bought some property nearby on which he built warehouses that served as a terminal for wholesale grocery business he was in.  So Ginger had not gone lacking monetarily.  She had done much better than her own mother who was married to the former chief of police.  Being a policeman in that town was not the road to riches. It was a bare-bones living but a respectable job.  

Ginger almost dragged me into the house so I could see it.  There were still many items in the house that had belonged to Buddy’s family.  I had no idea if they were from Topaz’s family or if they had belonged to the estate for all these years.  I was almost hurt that Ginger was enjoying the history that was rightfully Buddy’s and then I knew deep down inside it was never really Buddy’s.  I knew Ginger would reconfirm that for me and give me all the history before the parade this late afternoon.

Ginger shared with me how Topaz had asked her to house some of the furnishings, some of the rugs, the paintings while she was living in Europe and on her return, she would take the remains with her, as she was planning a move to Atlanta to be near Buddy as the winter of her life was approaching.  Ginger shared with me how Buddy had come calling, to tell her that his mother had died in a hospital in New York after returning from Paris very ill.  Wanting to be in the USA to get her surgery done, she chose to return home for it.  Buddy had scheduled an appointment for her in Atlanta, at Emory, but when she arrived in New York, she was taken emergently to a hospital where she died two days after the surgery.  She had become septic en route from Paris, which made her high risk for surgery and she slipped into a coma from sepsis and never regained consciousness. Buddy chose only a few items, stating that his wife had more from her parents and grandparents than they could accommodate and he felt his mother would want them to remain with the house.  He gave her a legal document, which required she leave the furnishings, paintings, rugs, etc., with the next owner of the house so that it would remain a part of the town’s history and she had been happy to do that.

Ginger was not aware of all the details of Buddy’s wives but said she did speak to Topaz about him and his marriages from time to time before her demise, and Topaz was very disturbed that he did not seem to want to stay married.  Both wives had been hand picked from the social registers in Atlanta and Charleston and yet the marriages did not last.  Ginger looked at me and winked her eye, and said, “You know who will live here when I leave here, “Tush, so Tush will get all the furnishings.”  I felt like I was in a conspiracy to make Ginger and Tush the new town belles, my revenge or hers for what happened to mother.  I asked her if Tim would want the house and she grinned very wide and said, “it does not matter what he wants, I discussed all the divorce proceedings with Buddy beforehand so I was certain that Tush and I were cared for.”  I sat there not really knowing what to say except, “That’s good.”  

She immediately went to a very large French armoire where there were rows of decorated boxes and albums, which held pictures of Tush. She was very anxious to show them to me.  Before she opened them, she began telling me how beautiful Tush is and I was quite sure she was but I know that Ginger would see her daughter as the most beautiful human in the world regardless.  That was just Ginger, a great friend and now a great mother.  

“Randa,” she said, “I was so hurt when ya Mother died.  I hoped Randall would call me and tell me it was okay to come to the funeral but he did not and then you did not call and I was afraid I would be overstepping my boundaries if Tush and I showed up for the funeral.”  

“Oh, Ginger.  Honey, you sent flowers and food. I am so sorry.  Of course I thought about it, but it was so fast.  It was cold, raining and I was a little unprepared for the events although I should not have been.”

Still with that big smile and producing albums of Tush, she said, “God, what did Randall do.”  

It was my time to answer a question with a questions and I said, “What did Tim do?  What happened?”

We continued talking while I looked at pictures of Tush, each one with the date and the event.  Ginger had made her life her own life’s work.  Yes, indeed, Tush was very pretty.

“I am so glad, Miranda, you are here.  You know how I cannot talk to anyone in this town.  I miss you so much.  How many times I wanted to pick up the phone and call you but I knew Tim would see the long distance calls I made to you.  He never wanted me to talk to ya Mother either.  Well, I think you know why.”

“Well, Ginger, I guess I understand but you and Randall were history by the time Mother died.  Why after all these years would he not like you talking to Mother, at least paying your respects when she was dead?”

“Oh, Baby, he knew Tush was Randall’s baby but he accepted her.  He loved her.  Randall never even wanted to see Tush.  Tim threatened to kill Randall if he ever tried to see her.  Randall never asked about her.  Tim had his faults but he could not have loved his own child anymore.  He adores Tush.  She spends weekends with him from time to time at the Coast, but his wife and Tush do not get along that well, so she makes her visits fewer as Cora is getting possessive of Tim.  Let her have him. Tim still takes care of Tush financially.  He would never neglect her, maybe me, but not her.”

“Ginger, are you telling me that Tim knew all along that your baby was Randall’s or he found it out later?”

“Well, Randa, he always suspected it”  She laughs in a very sweet but coy manner and goes back to the conversation.  “But by the time Tush was a year old, she looked exactly like you.  She is quieter like you, more intellectual than I was and creative like ya Mother.  When she was 16 years old, I could all but see you when she would dress for school.  I remembered those times I used to spend the night with you before My Mother knew about Randall and me, and you would get dressed for school or wherever or whatever we were doing.  Watching Tush grow up was just like seeing you grow up all over again.  She is so you.  Ya mother would have adored her.”

“Ginger, hold up.  Cut the BS.  Mother would have loved her only if she looked like Randall, but not me.”

“Oh, no.  Your mother loved you equally, Randall was just more dependent on her and more likely to get in trouble and need her.  Ya mother liked to feel as if she was needed, Honey. Gee, after what your daddy did to her, then Randall, and of all things, the way that whole thing with you & …….”  She stopped.

I said, “what whole thing with me and Buddy?  Ginger, it’s okay.  I know.  Mother did not deserve what she was put through but neither did I, neither did Buddy.  None of us did.  Certainly not you.  Our whole family is crazy.  We were all a group of unaware tourists in unknown territory, trying to find our way before we fell off the cliff.”

She picked it up, “and you did and so did I.”

“Ginger, I am hungry, what’s for lunch?”  I wanted to stop this conversation. It was bringing up more pain than I wanted to feel.  

Ginger led the way to the dining room.  It was all prepared as if we were going to have a sit-down dinner for no less than 12.  All the white napkins, so many forks I was afraid I would use the wrong one.  I was sleepy and tired from my long conversations with Erma, and I did not want to have to go to a meal where I needed to practice white gloves and party manners, yet Ginger was determined to keep the flavor of our past and Topaz and Mother in this room.  Her maid was placing soups and salads, all about, bringing breads, butters, jams and I was certainly confused about whether this was Ginger, Topaz or Mother I was visiting.  

Ginger loved my husband.  She had named him Sparky.  She found him as charming as I did when she met him a few years after we had married.  That was just like Ginger to give him a nickname and for him to like it.  It was one of the few meetings Ginger and I had in secret away from Tim.  He was not one to like nicknames but he liked it because he liked Ginger and considered it a compliment from one so fair as she.  It was many years into our marriage before I had confided to him all that I knew about Ginger, about Tim, about Randall, about Tush and never had I mentioned all the truth about Buddy.  

I asked Ginger if I could use her bathroom to wash up before lunch and she accompanied me, showing me all the changes she had made and yet they looked miniscule to me.  Maybe she had done big changes, like tearing out walls and putting new ones in but everything looked the same.  Topaz had good taste and the colors Ginger was using were the same on the walls, the draperies although new, were almost identical, the furniture.  The bathroom looked so familiar, so foreboding, so full of secrets and yet it was not just clean but spic and span.  Ginger, like her mother, demanded an impeccable and immaculate home.  They were so immaculate and impeccable it was almost scary, bathing 3-4 times per day, scrubbing the toilets until they almost lost their sheen, scrubbing the tile walls until they sparkled.  I always had a strange feeling that they were trying to wash the blood from their lives.  Ginger’s father always took his gun off and laid it on the bureau when he came home.  On Christmas morning he had been busying getting the children’s toys together when her sister, Beverly, picked up the gun and said, “Bang,” shooting and killing their baby brother.  Ginger’s mother was a young mother of three and her only son had been killed by one of her own children.  She had a nervous breakdown, or so I heard.  Beverly was 4, Ginger 6 and Dale was less than 2.  It was an horrible Christmas all over town.  Ginger’s father ended up committing suicide in the same room where Beverly had shot her little brother the following Christmas.  I never saw the room, but it was rumored all over town that the once-white walls were covered with blood.  Ginger’s mother had had a relapse and was sent to a mental institution while her aunt and uncle cared for her and Beverly for 1-2  years, until her mother returned stronger and more able to take care of them.  I always wondered if all that cleaning was indicative of wanting to clean all they had known and seen from their lives.  Poor Mrs. Hawkins.  She had had more in her life than most people ever experience and she had gone on to care for and do a good job of raising Ginger and Beverly and she never seemed to have any problems with Beverly, no resentment as if it was so easy to accept that she was just a little girl who did not know better and she thought she was playing with her little brother.  Of course it was the truth but it must have been difficult for her and required a lot of counseling to be able to do that, which was right for all.  

Ginger invited me to see the bedrooms before we had lunch as we were already in that part of the house.  The bedrooms.  This was going to be a challenge for me.  She grinned and looked at me as if to say, “I know who you are and I know what you did,” but I think my imagination was playing tricks on me.  She never really knew.  I am sure she thought she knew but she never knew.  No one knew, no one, not even Mother, not Topaz, no one but Buddy and me.  The rest only suspected and that was fine with me. It was good for their minds, gave them something to ponder on their laundry days.

The white thin window curtain was fluttering with a slight afternoon breeze.  I was transformed.  I was here and I was there in that time all over again.  

Buddy’s father was usually somewhere in the world on business and his mother had more social activities than most women.  Their housekeeper was off on Saturday mornings.  Mother let me have the car each Saturday for cheerleader practice.  It was not really cheerleader practice but as long as mother thought that was what it was, it was fine.  I only picked my uniforms up on Saturday from the dry cleaners and took them to my gym locker so it would be there before game time that evening.  After I took my uniform to my locker, I drove that 5 miles to Buddy’s. The garage door was always open on Saturday mornings, the garage was hidden from the street by shrubberies and the back door was left unlocked.  

It was in this room, the guest room, the flittering, white curtains, the breeze from the southwest that I recalled the feel, the sound, and the sights.  The floor was hardwood with a carpet that reached within a few inches of the wall.  There was an oriental rug over the carpet.  The morning was crisp, the wind light and my heart was beating fast.  Buddy had asked me to come by when I took my uniform.  I knew it was rest morning for him.  He had practiced hard the night before.  I went to watch practice and he had been very tired just having gotten back to practice after a few days off with strep throat. Coach had asked him to stay home, rest for a while before he got up and ran.  He always ran each morning if he did not play tennis but on Saturdays, he put tennis aside.  Tennis was another game he could master, but football was his real love, and he was determined to be the same great Harvard wide receiver that his dad had been before him and his dad before that.  

Buddy and I had been dating since our birthdays.  He had called and invited me to a party at his parents’ coastal house where they met each summer for a get-together with all their summer friends and their children.  I was always ill at ease with Topaz but not with his dad.  There were occasions when I thought Topaz might like me.  Of course as long as we were with the family our relationship was totally platonic and Topaz even encouraged Buddy to date other girls in the group with us, to invite them to dances.  He never argued with her.  He was able to turn the whole thing in a pleasant affair by chiding her about her match-making.  No one seemed to mind, no one but me.  I often felt I was the brunt of her match-making and Buddy’s light-hearted humor as he never quite defended me and yet never offended his mother.  He knew how to politic the whole matter, just as his father does.  His father never expresses anything for me but kind words and yet I know I am not on his wish list of family members.  

There were a few times during the summer and early fall when Buddy and I had had occasion to go to movies, go for food, go for dinner and a few times when we had followed the lead of some of our friends and gone to the river junction where everyone met, there was always a bon fire, always a football game, and farther away under the trees there was a lovers’ lane.  I had never been to lovers’ lane.  I was sure one day someone would ask me to go but now it seemed it might be off limits for Buddy and for me.  Perhaps it was a social thing for him.  He was too well bred to go some place like that or was it because I was not the right girl.  Was I not attractive enough.  Sometimes I felt he would prefer Babs, Sandy or any of the girls, Joy, or maybe even Erma over me romantically. Maybe it was not romance but at that point in my life it represented the nearest thing to romance I knew.  

When I slipped into the back door, Buddy was waiting in the mud room.  He pulled me to him, kissed me very hard, harder than anything I had experienced before or was happy with.  It was a very unsettling feeling.  As much as I wanted to be with him like this, I was not prepared for how roughly passionate he was.  He knew I was disappointed and apologized, took my hand and we walked into his mother’s study.  It was a pretty room, all done in French furnishings.  The desk was not hard and stoic like a man’s but had slender long legs, spoon feet and intricate details.  It looked like it was custom-made for Topaz but I knew it was much older than Topaz. Buddy asked me to find music we wanted to listen to and I started going throw albums hunting.  He had a great selection of music.  They had a great selection of everything.  They had tons of books.  I loved books.  I remembered Buddy and me in the library together in first grade when I first fell in love with this little book-reader who is now an athlete, a tall, muscular, suntanned, blue-eyed blond athlete and academic, who swims as well as he dances, has excelled at tennis, is being offered football scholarships and academic scholarships and even in our little town with the help of Mrs. DePuy and the Hornbuckles, he has mastered French and German well enough to travel abroad, has learned Spanish from Mrs. Burkette, our Spanish teacher, and one day I know he will learn Italian.  He will learn whatever he needs to.  He will leave my world but I will have today to remember forever. This room looked like a room I would imagine he would share with a woman one day, a woman he would meet while at Harvard, a woman who would bear his children, who would attend charity balls with him and who would host glamorous parties.  I knew he was not in my destiny but I had determined to take whatever part I could and savor the moment.  The draperies in this room although feminine were heavy and there were layers of them, very European.  The sofa was a camel back leather.  

The madras plaid shorts Buddy was wearing with his great suntan endeared him even more to me.  My very eclectic, Renaissance man was quick to ask if I wanted food, drink or whatever.  I was not hungry or thirsty but maybe whatever was in order.  We played a game of spite and malice, where loser is to grant winner’s commands for a day.  What a silly game it started out and what fun but serious game it came to be.  

There were a few areas in our lives where I excelled at some of the same things as Buddy and a few in which I actually exceeded his performance and one of those was playing card and board games.  Mother liked to play cards and on the days when she was not working, trying to impress her snotty acquaintances, customers or Randall, we played cards.  We had always played cards.  My grandparents were great card players.  Each summer when all the cousins drifted in from college or high school from parts unknown or not recalled, we played board games and cards day and night.  It was great fun.  Even when I was too young to play, I would stand behind the big guys and strategize as if I had their hands trying to mentally make the plays for them.  With a little concentration and a little luck, I could beat Buddy at this game, but somehow I did not think that was what he nor I either had in mind.  

Ginger called to me to make haste, prodding me to eat while listening to her stories.  She always knew everything that went on but was very good not to tell anyone.  People trusted Ginger with their secrets as she had trusted me with hers and Randall’s and even the things she had just shared with me about Tim, about Tush.  She did not have to ask me not to tell it.  She knew I would not.  Unlike Nell, Erma, and all the others the night before, Ginger was iron clad with secrets and less judgmental than most people. She had a heart and soul of gold and I was happy to call her friend and wished that she had married Randall so that we could be sisters-in-law but Ginger deserved better than Randall.  Randall never thought of anyone but himself.  

We had lunch while Ginger pored over more pictures of Tush, sharing her every moment from the minute she was born until she got accepted in medical school.  She wanted to be a surgeon.  As elated about her daughter, my niece as Ginger appeared to be, there seemed to be something beneath the surface that she was not sharing, but I did not want to ask, because it probably was none of my business, but I had to wonder if she had gotten pregnant at an early age like her mother, or what was wrong that Ginger could not quite bring herself to say.  She kept being very gratuitous and I knew someday the rest of the story would surface.  We discussed her relationship with Randall through the years and told me he was the ‘bad boy’ that she fell in love with in her youth and to this day even with all his foibles and checkered past, she would marry him if he asked her.  I was really surprised to hear this as Ginger seemed content with life, something Randall never was.  Randall is very broken now and has suffered many set backs in his life, most of which are of his own doing.  Nonetheless, I admonished Ginger to perish the thought and move forward, not back.  She told me that was what Tush told her. Tush!  Why was she discussing this with Tush?  Had she taken complete leave of her senses?  Tush had grown up with Tim as a father.  Tush was even named for his mother “Tuckerish.”  As with Tim’s mother, Tuckerish had gone on to inherit the family nickname for her as well, Tush, I suppose a shortened version but it bothered me as it implied perhaps a couple of things, neither of which was something I would name a beautiful, happy baby.  

As if my tongue could no longer contain itself, I asked, “Ginger, what is the strained relationship between you and Tush?”  

“Strained relationship, you ask?  Yes.  We do have a strained relationship. Tush knows Randall is her daddy.  I had an affair a few years ago and…”

“Oh, damn you, Ginger, you wasted your life and all you had with Tim on … “

“Well, Randa, I love Randall. I always have.  I had his baby.”

“Are you nuts, Ginger, he provided you with some sperm and you gave Tim a baby, a beautiful child.  What is wrong with you.”  

“Have you ever been in love, Randa, really in love?”

I sat back in my chair, sipped my wine, and then suddenly I threw back my head and finished off the glass.  I was not sure how I would answer that question.  Would I answer with my intellect, with my heart, my emotions, with integrity or how, how would I answer her question?  I felt that suddenly that I was not sure what I would do if I had the same situation with Buddy today that she had with Randall.

[mrs. red]

Thanks Tyler... WOW... can't wait to see where this leads..

[Tylergal]

What would be my response?  I knew I loved Vincent and I knew I had loved Buddy.  Buddy was my first love.  I know there was something gentle, warm and unforgettable about the Saturdays I spent with him while his mother was out shopping, socializing, and we were left to our own designs while no one in the world seemed to know or care.  Yet it was that first Saturday, that time when allowing Buddy to win the spite-and-malice game that I knew, or thought I knew, what love was.  After a best 2-out-of-3 tournament, Buddy had won 2.  Just like him to smile and tell me he would never want me to be his slave but his lover.  Somehow the words he had chosen did not matter.  They were the words of two star-crossed 16-year-old kids who were struggling for independence, for adulthood and each other.  I also knew there was some very stable, very responsible and very loving about Vincent.  Vincent was my rock.  He was a great husband, father and kind soul who made me feel like a queen and not a used woman as I came to feel regarding Buddy.

After a session of necking, kissing and petting, on the camel back sofa, Buddy whispered promises to me it would not be painful, that he would make it a happy and unforgettable occasion and I trusted him. I always had and today was no time to change my mind.  Somewhere in the recesses of my mind was my grandmother telling me to stop and yet there was this tangible, beautiful human being lying beside me insisting on proceeding, quoting beautiful poetry, caressing me and hypnotizing me.  Overcome with the desire, I reluctantly succumbed to my desires.  

This was the first time I had totally been undressed in front of another human being since my mother tub-bathed me.  Even in gym, I was quite shy especially since the girls teased me about the large size of my breasts.  Now I was totally nude in front of this person whose opinion mattered to me more than anyone else and I was not sure if I was beneath his standards.  

He rose up on his arm at the culmination.  He kissed my hair and ears and asked me if I was okay?  I was unsure what okay was, but I gave him a positive shake of my head, and opened my eyes to see that he was staring at my nudity.  I wanted to dress right away but he insisted I not.  He handed me some tissue and told me to wipe my face.  As soon as I did, I ran to the bathroom with my underwear in hand.  I stayed, looking at my face in Topaz’ mirror, trying desperately to clean anything that might suggest to my mother when I returned home that I was not at cheerleader practice.  I was sure my red, sweaty face would not matter.  She knew although the weather was cooler, it was still humid.  By the time I returned to the study from the bathroom, Buddy was dressed, talking on the telephone.  I knew it was an important conversation to him.  I picked up my handbag and was making my way to the door, when he motioned for me to remain.  I stood for a minute but after several minutes, I sat down.  I had read stories of women who felt rejected when they had made love and their partner rolled over to watch TV, talked to someone on the phone and now I was beginning to feel the same way.  After what seemed like an eternity, I stood again, and started toward the door, he told the person on the phone he had to go as he heard someone at the door.  

“Where are you going?” He asked.  

“Going home.  I have things to do.  I have to help my grandmother before the game.  You know, to earn my keep,” I said as I smiled to him, knowing that he never had to earn his keep, just make the good grades and play the good game, the things that came naturally to him.  Our lives were different but in one moment today, they were one.  

He told me he had been talking to his father on the phone.  His father had called from Australia, checking on him and his mother, and his dad wanted a rundown on the recent football games, his ACT and SAT scores, and how school was going.  He smiled and said, “I neglected to tell him I had been playing house with you.”  

With that I bit the inside of my mouth very hard trying not to say anything as there was much I wanted to say but nothing seemed appropriate.  Buddy pulled me to him, reached down and kissed me on top of my head. His words describing our lovemaking had been those of a seasoned poet and I had no doubt he shared my feelings.  I wanted to be with him all the time, everyday, never be away from him.  I never doubted his words, that he loved me.  

I walked to the car and he opened my door, made sure I was buckled in and the doors were locked, he opened the garage door and I backed out of the driveway, not even looking behind me, but watching him in his niche, feeling comfortable with the world, not having to concern himself with his parents, or any condemnation that might befall him should anyone find out.  I wanted to know that feeling, but all the way home for the next 15-20 minutes I was concerned that somehow my grandmother would know.  I always felt she had some kind of special powers, as she always seemed to know without seeing or hearing what everyone was up to and yet she never felt entitled to judge anyone openly.

When I arrived home, mother was concerned that I had gone somewhere without make up.  I assured her I had plenty of make up on when I left home, but it was hot outside and I had sweated it off.  Of course she commented on how I should have taken my make up bag with me and re-apply make up since she was afraid I might have been seen without it.  I assured her nobody who cared about make up had seen me.  

Grandmother had plenty of chores for me away from the house.  She wanted me to take the peaches she had canned to the neighbor lady with all the children and when I returned, she that I take the peas my grandfather had picked and shell them.  She agreed since I had had such a hard morning at practice, I could take them down to the pecan tree, sit in the swing in its shade and keep cool while finishing up. I was delighted, because I wanted nothing more than to be away from mother’s suspicious eyes and have time for my own thoughts.   This was the last crop of fall peas and no one was more pleased than I.  It meant that I did not have to scrub my fingernails with Clorox before each and every trip I took.  

After I had delivered the canned peaches to Ms. Howell, she told me in her loveliest British accent, how delighted she was to have such lovely fruit and appreciate the most kind efforts of our family.  I promised to relay the message to my grandmother. I did and went about my pea shelling.  

The afternoon passed fast.   I had millions of thoughts and played out the morning events on my mental recorder one time after another, each time adding my own fanciful ending and wishing that I were more experienced and knew what to say on these occasions, but I did not and the fact that I looked so much like a raccoon with mascara under my eyes and Buddy insisting I wipe my eyes, made me wonder if he would always see me as a raccoon, or if he dreamed of seeing me that way again, as I did him.  I was sad that I had to leave Buddy.  I wanted to be with him and have that picture in my mind last for eternity but that would not happen today.  I finished my chores and got my shower, scrubbed my hands with Clorox so that mother could polish my nails, which she did always with the acuity of a surgeon.  Randall told me he would drop me off at the gym but needed to have the car tonight and wanted to know if I could get a lift home.   Mother overheard the conversation and was appalled that Randall would think of leaving me without transportation home.  She made him promise he would pick me up at gate E at exactly 10:30. He promised.  Somehow I knew Randall would not pick me up.  He most likely had plans with Ginger and if she did not know he was supposed to pick me up, he most likely would not.  I planned to ask Sandra for a ride.  She would be delighted to take me home if Buddy did not offer, which I doubted he would.  He usually had after-game meal with the football team, and I was not allowed to do that, although some of the cheerleaders did, those who could pay their own way and had their own transportation.  Sandra liked to take me home and come in for a visit.  She liked to sing and if she came in for a visit, Mother would play piano and Sandra would sing.  It was something they had done together for a while now, even back in grammar school when Sandra visited.  Mother wished that I was a songbird but I was not.  I played piano very well but not as well as Mother.  She was indeed a very good pianist who often played for social or church events in town.  She was delighted she had something to offer and did it without giving it reticence.

Before game time, I asked Sandra if I could get a ride home with her, but her face twisted around and she told me she had a date with John after the game and he was taking her home.  They would probably attend the after-game dinner.  Nell and Marie had overheard me asking her, and they both offered.  I told them Randall might pick me up but in case he did not make it back from an appointment, I would need transportation.  I am sure they all knew I was, like mother, making excuses for Randall who had no structure in his life and no conception of time, and that picking me up was dependent on whether or not Randall was still sober or finished with his most recent lay.

The game was very close, a tie-breaker to the end, but Tom had saved it for our team by kicking a field goal in the last four seconds of the game.  Everyone was more excited than usual because this meant we went to play-offs.  For me, play-offs were just extra, added days that I would get to see Buddy after the phony cheerleader practice on Saturday mornings.  No one was more excited than I but for different reasons, although I screamed and yelled like everyone else that our guys could possibly win the state championship.  

Buddy approached me, helmet in hand, and looking very tired and sweaty and told me he would give me a call.  Marie stood with her razor sharp eyes watching and listening to every word.  I knew she loved Buddy as did Katie.  Katie and Marie were much prettier and I know it was all they could do to spit out of their craw that they were happy that Buddy and I were now dating steadily.  Marie was quick to inform Buddy she was taking me home because I had no transportation.  I had not accepted her offer, but now she was telling him.  There was certainly a reason for her interjecting that there. Why did she want me to look like a cad from the sticks who had no transportation and she was Miss Charity who happily takes the time for the needy.  I turned to her as if to say, “No, you do not have to do that,” but I knew all too well I would probably need the ride, as Randall was not likely to show.

We got our showers, dressed and headed for the gate.  Randall was not there, of course, so Marie and I strode across the field to her car.  I knew she was going to grill me on the way home, and in her own cagey way she did, but I was ready for her.  She told me about dating Buddy last year and that she really did not care for him, he was not a very good kisser, not a very worldly person as her family wished her to marry, but he was nice and she had dated him so as not to hurt his feelings or his mother’s.  I never responded, just let her talk and then she asked me what I saw in him.  It was apparent that she wanted some gossip to spread.  I told her I thought he was handsome, smart and a gentleman, and that it was not a matter of anyone else why I liked him, or why she did not.  She got the hint, that I was telling her to butt out, and she did.  

Since I was at her mercy, and not wanting to walk in the dark night several miles, I chose not to tell her I did not think she was the polished and that most of what she had to say further enforced that she was a liar, but I did not.  Instead we changed the conversation to the game.  I was glad to soon be home away from Marie, away from Nell, Janet and Katie.  I was happy to be in the cocoon of my own bedroom, with my own thoughts.  I found it hard to sleep because of what had happened with Buddy, but I drifted off before daylight in my own world of thought and after-glow of love that I had shared with Buddy.

I moved my chair back from Ginger’s table and walked over to the sideboard that held the wine, poured myself another glass, while she kept insisting that was Annie Mae’s job.  Annie Mae was her full-time housekeeper.  I was not accustomed to such lavish treatment, and actually preferred getting my own wine, so that I did not have to explain the color of the bottle to pour from.  

“Ginger, your home is beautiful and you need to let Annie keep it that way, quit burdening her with so many menial tasks that you can perform for yourself. Please.”  

She never quit smiling, and stated, “But you know you are my princess.  I have always loved you like a baby sister.  I so much want everything perfect when you are here.”

“Okay, Ginger, make it perfect by cutting this BS out with Randall.  Tell him to take a leap.  Never let his name cross your lips again.  He is my brother, but he is trash.  Do not invest another minute.  I could tell you things that you really do not want to hear about him.”

“You could probably tell me things I would not like to hear, but Randa, nothing would make me quit loving him.  I even forgave him when I realized he was bisexual and having an affair with Mr. Porter who once owned the mercantile store.”

I gasped.  I did not know anyone knew that but me.  I felt that mother knew it but I had discovered it by surprise and when I did, Randall had to tell me all the details that I did not wish to hear, I suppose, hoping that if he shared all the sordid details, I would be reluctant to tattle.  

Just as I was about to respond to her, the phone rang, and she called to Annie Mae to tell whomever was on the other end that she was busy and would call back.  Annie Mae soon made her way into the dining room with the long-corded phone and said, “It’s for you, Miss Miranda.”  My first guess was that it was Randall wanting money, that Ginger had told him I was having lunch with her today and spending the night with her tonight, and he had called to ask me for money.  

I answered in a somewhat dismal tone as I expected it was Randall with whom I would not want to be cheerful, but to my own utter surprise, it was Buddy, stating he was going to “run by to see the home place and speak with Ginger.”  I wondered how he knew I was here and why did he call and ask for me, who told him?  Instead of asking me if it would be okay to come by and see the old place while I was at Ginger’s, he told me.  I had assumed this was giving me the option to leave before he arrived or stay and endure.

Still smiling in perpetuity, Ginger said, “Now don’t you go.  I know that was Buddy.  I could hear it in the conversation.  He is just coming by to see the house.  He will not be long, unless you want him to be” and gave me a wink.  I did not like these backhanded shenanigans that were being played out here.  I did not like the way Ginger had treated Tim nor did I like the way she was playing free and loose with her own life, now my life and even Tush’s, by exposing so much to her child’s young mind that she did not have to know.

She knew I was not happy with this arrangement, so quickly changed the subject.  “I know ya Mother always wanted you to be a doctor but since you were unable to and opted to marry one, wouldn’t she be proud to know her granddaughter is in her surgical residency?”

I agreed that mother would be proud, but would be prouder if Randall had done something with his life other than exploit others, and had been a daddy to Tush.  She could not disagree but added insult to injury when she told me she was more sympathetic with Topaz’ plight than mother’s, that she had walked in those same shoes and she knew what it was like.  I was not sure what she was inferring here, but there were a thousand ideas coming to mind and I did not ask, nor did I like what I was thinking.  I sipped my wine, hoping my mood would have mellow by the time Buddy arrived to consort with Ginger about whatever it was they had planned.

“Randa, don’t be hard on me.  You know I have walked in tough shoes.  My leather is beaten down.  I saw my sister kill my little brother.  I was the first one to daddy when he shot himself.  I nursed my own mother while she babbled away in my home, Tim resenting her being with us, wanting to put her in a nursing home because she recalled daily the incident of Beverly shooting Dale. Mother never got over that and she would call to Daddy asking him to put away the gun. I heard all that for three years.  Tim did not want her with us and I was hell-bent on taking care of my mother.  I know you do not give Randall enough credit, but he took care of ya Mother.  He sat up with her at night.  He changed her diapers, he washed and combed her hair, bathed her like a baby.”  

I knew part of this to be true, but I also knew he had home healthcare, but I would not go into the many times I had to come get mother when Randall would not come home and the home healthcare ladies would call me telling me they found her home alone in a mess.  I would go get her, nurse her back to health, only to have her beg to go back to live with Randall.  I went through that more times than I could count on my fingers and toes over the 15 years that she lived with Alzheimer’s.  

I stood up from my chair as Ginger called to me, and said, “Don’t go.  Wait. We will have another glass of wine.”

“Ginger, I was only going to pour it, what’s your flavor?”  She told me she would like a glass of sherry and I poured my own glass, a water glass of Chardonnay.  

I handed her the petite glass and she sipped and licked her lips, breathed in as she had never had a drink of wine before. I was beginning to think Ginger was someone I did not know.  

She asked Annie Mae to bring dessert to the buffet.  Annie Mae called out to ask me what I would like for dessert and I told her I was having mine, another glass of Chardonnay.  She told me she had a bread pudding with whiskey. Ginger and I smiled at each other and I gracefully declined the bread pudding although I might have accepted it in other situation.  

Through the kitchen doorway, I could hear long strides.  I knew it was Buddy.  I knew his walk.  He was perhaps 10-15 pounds heavier now than in high school but he still looked wonderful and walked the same.  I felt the room getting warm, my face was burning, I was playing with my napkin and I told Ginger I had had too much wine, my face was hot.  Just before Buddy entered the room in a voice so low, no one else would hear, she snickered and said, “It’s not the wine.”  

He walked in and in a very commanding voice, as we were about to arise to greet him, in his beaming voice requesting,  “Ladies, sit down.  I am to make myself at home.  Ginger has assured me of that.  What are we drinking?”  

Ginger pointed to the sideboard which was her facsimile bar and he strode over and poured himself a glass of sherry, asked if anyone was for refills.  We replied almost simultaneously that we had just refilled.

Without hesitation, he pulled one of the heavy chairs from the table, turned it so that the back was facing him and straddled it while sitting 2-3 feet from the table and facing us. What a comfortable man this is, comfortable and at home anyplace he goes.  

We engaged in small talk, discussed football, the local elections, his law practice, Ginger’s new community project, and how Tush was liking Vanderbilt.  Buddy asked about my children, about Vince whom he had met once very briefly while we were here on business during mother’s illness.  He spoke lovingly of his own children and said they both had graduated Duke’s law school and would intern with some other firms and eventually come to practice with him, so he could one day retire.  I doubted Buddy would retire.  I knew that work and control of that work were his life.  

Ginger had met his wife, Claire Elizabeth, when she first moved into the house and asked him about her as if they were still living together.  It seemed as though he had a very good relationship with all these women from his past. He spoke of her in a charming way and I felt that I knew her and liked her.  I felt my heart ache on her behalf, however, as I knew what it was to be one of Buddy’s former loves.  

The room fell silent and Ginger offered to get dessert. Buddy accepted the bread pudding and started telling me what great bread pudding Annie Mae made and insisted I try it.  Ginger interrupted by telling Buddy I had chosen to have liquid dessert.  He smiled and agreed it was not a bad idea.  But I then wondered if Annie Mae came with the house, if she was one of the possessions Topaz had left when she went to Paris, one she never came back to fetch.  

Ginger headed toward the kitchen to help retrieve dessert.  While she was out of the room Buddy asked me when my father died.  I told him he had died 5 years prior, 2 years before mother.  He offered condolences, but I refused to feel the necessity in his doing this, but did tell him that I had gone to the funeral just because I felt it was the decent thing to do.  He stated he would have gone had he known it.  I was taken aback and felt that I had either had too much wine or not enough.  Just about the time he was going into never having met him but always wanting to out of curiosity, a conversation in which I did not want to engage, Ginger and Annie Mae came into the room, and with Ginger’s hardy laughter, the conversation ended quickly. Saved by the Ginger bell, I was happy she had come to my rescue.  Ginger put into tell us a lawyer joke that Annie had just shared with her about a woman who had two marriages in which she remained a virgin, and the third time she married a lawyer because she would be guaranteed to be screwed.  Everyone laughed.  I pretended to think it funny, but I could agree with the poor lady who wanted to marry the lawyer – that she would most likely get screwed.  

Buddy reached into his coat pocket and pulled what looked like a laundry list of “things to do,” but it was a list of furnishings in the house, the dates they were acquired and where they were purchased, so that Ginger would have it for the Historical Society’s Christmas tour.  She was delighted that Buddy had remembered it and asked him if he had been to Katie’s, to which he replied he had.  She asked him what he thought about the house and in almost the same breath, stated Katie wanted to be head of the tour this year and that some of the members were concerned about the renovations and furnishings in Katie’s house, because it appeared there were few antiques, only the few that had been left by the previous family.  Buddy assured Ginger it would be fine, that most people would just look at the exterior which was in keeping with its period and not make too much of the interior but he assured her she had the most true-to-period house and furnishings in the area.  I was happy to know that Ginger had recognized the mess Katie had made of the house and wondered why no one had the wherewithal to tell her it was not tastefully done.  It just seemed Katie was oblivious to the fact.

Buddy leaned back in his chair, and said, “I tell you what, Ginger.  I will get Claire Elizabeth to call on Katie if you are concerned about it.  I know you want it to be classic, and Claire Elizabeth is big into that.  She owns her own business in Atlanta, works closely with the historical society there, and has a computer full of information.  She met Katie and they hit it off when they were living in Atlanta and they have somewhat kept in touch, and I know Claire Elizabeth could help her without making her feel uncomfortable, just suggestions.”  

Oh, wonderful, I thought.  He has involved all his ex-wives and ex-girlfriends in his whole life.  This is just a big family.  They all fall under his spell and they are a cult.  

Ginger was ecstatic at the idea.  Buddy wanted to walk through the house and correlate his list with furnishings.  Ginger asked me to come along.  Room-by-room, piece-by-piece, he related the history while referring to his copy of the list he had saved, while Ginger was taking notes.  I felt like a third on a date.  When we came to Topaz’ study, he beamed and said, “I had some great times in this room.  I have lots of good memories from here.”  He looked at me and winked his eye out of Ginger’s sight.  I subtly flashed him a smile, not knowing if I was being complimented or insulted.  With Buddy, the politician, I knew it was difficult to tell.

[mrs. red]

Tyler... keep going!  please....

why did Miranda hate her dad?

what happened when she and Buddy broke up?

why is Ginger trying to put Buddy in Miranda's life??


oooohhhhhh  I want to know...

[Tylergal]

Lord, Mrs. Red, I am trying to figure that out myself.  LOL.  This is a compilation of many people whose names are not identified I have known from the past and yet I have embellished it into one weekend, and trying to figure it out is a puzzle to me but I shall.

[Sam]

Oh Tyler this all reminds me so much of when I was in the early years of grade school and we would read a book aloud in class taking turns. But even then it seemed like we got a chapter a day. LOL

I think it was one of my favorite parts of the day. I always loved reading to the point where I read everything even the cereal boxes. So please keep it coming.

Sam

[Tylergal]

Ginger and Buddy had their tour completed and as we settled into the den for adult conversation, Annie Mae brought coffee.  Before leaving the room, Annie Mae reminded Ginger that she had not brought her car today, because it was in the shop, one of her children had driven her so she would need a ride home, her feet were tired.

I immediately jumped at the opportunity to exit this situation and take Annie Mae, but Ginger would not hear to it.  She wanted me to stay and visit with Buddy while she drove Annie Mae the two short miles, which should not take her more than 10 minutes.  I was sure I could endure 10 minutes, as I had endured a lot more today.  As soon as Ginger walked out the door, there was an eerie silence about the house, and it seemed as though Buddy and I had nothing to talk about.  I was not going to be drawn into this cult of ex-lovers and platonic relationships that he seemed to easily slip in and out of like his mother was accustomed to doing with her massive wardrobe.

My mood was mellowed by the wine but yet too tired to make idle conversation. It was impossible.  I sat conspicuously quiet and after a long period of silence, Buddy addressed me.

“Miranda, what is going on with you.  I have cared enough to inquire about you.  I know about the lawsuit, I know about Vince, and I knew about the overseas tours of duty you took with your careers. I am sure you would have preferred being home with your children.  It bothers me that you are so cold, so distant with Ginger, with me, and even with Katie, Sandra and all of your friends.  It appears that you perceive us somehow as your enemies, not your friends, and I just wanted to tell you that I am your friend.  I think you know that everyone knows what happened was not his fault, someone died.  He was trying to save the life of a loser, he got a loser jury and the truth is the scales of justice do not always weigh right and are beginning to tilt toward for the guilty more and more frequently.  I have not run a sham law practice.  I am not a Jerry Beasley, a John Edwards.  I don’t make my money unethically.  

I was not ready for this.  I had no idea he knew about the lawsuit.  Surely if he knew through his legal channels, he had to know what a bad verdict that was, how hurt Vince and I were by this, how devastated our children were for what their father went through.  Vince was one of the best human beings I had ever known and Buddy was right, it was a bad judgment call.  Vince did not deserve what the court handed down.

I was beginning to understand why I resented Buddy, not because he had built a cult, but because he had issues that he handled well and I had not handled some of mine as well as he.  Perhaps I was as unprepared for the bad calls one is handed in life as my mother.  I thought back on that day when Vince’s insurance company called him, telling him he was being slapped with a big lawsuit by the family of a patient that died.  He and I did not understand it.  He had been the one who talked to the family’s attorney, he had given them all the information he had and comforted them.  He did not need a subpoena, he did not need a warrant, but voluntarily called the family attorney to tell them what he knew.  He was not blaming anyone.  He was trying to help them come to grips with their family member’s death.  

Vince was in his final year of residency when we met. Margaret was working ER, third shift.  She and Vince had started dating and within three weeks, they were engaged.  He later told me he was shopping for an understanding woman, someone who understood the long hours required of a trauma surgeon, and Margaret was a very good trauma nurse, and it only seemed right they marry, but later he learned Margaret was shopping for someone to make her life easier, someone who could afford all the shopping trips she had missed in her life, and when I came to work during Margaret’s week of vacation which she had taken to visit her parents, to tell them of her upcoming marriage.  By the time Margaret returned Vince had decided he did not want to marry Margaret and the feeling was probably mutual, as she only wanted a husband with a paycheck bigger than that of an auto mechanic and Vince was available.

Vince was fun to be with.  He was pitching semi-pro baseball in his spare time, playing music gigs in town and sleeping very little.  The first three weeks flew by with hard work, lots of play and my realizing this man was so easy to be with.  I never felt pushed, rushed or controlled.  He was just nice to be with and he respected women, loved people and I had come to feel that he loved me.  I had not dated anyone since Buddy.  I knew it would be hard to find someone I cared for but Vince was everything Buddy was and some nice things that Buddy was not.  Vince was an outsider.  Margaret and I were more local.  Vince was from Texas.  Margaret and I were very near local.  We were both within 150 miles of our hometown and while Margaret had gotten her degree in nursing, I had gotten mine in education.  I had recently taken a job at the hospital in internal and external education.  Vince and I married 10 months later, and we moved around looking for a hospital that fit us, in an area where we fit into the community.  There was not much need for trauma surgeons in our area, so we moved west.  As time passed, the specialty was growing and we decided to move near the Beltway where I worked and he was working in Virginia.

We had two children who learned quickly that moving was a way of life for them, but finally we had settled down where we were happy, where Vince was happy and felt needed.

It was a hot day in July.  We had heard there was a prison break. It was the summer when one of our kids graduated high school and the other graduated junior high school.  One was about to head off to college.  

Vince answered an ER call.  A prisoner who was part of the escape, had been shot by a guard and had a massive bleed from the bullet that exited his femoral artery.  There was some mix-up with the ambulance service and the prisoner had been taken to the wrong hospital, a hospital that did not provide the services he needed.  Vince waited at the hospital but got a call after an extended period of time that the prisoner was en route to another hospital.  He was told by EMS that the prisoner was hemodynamically stable and since he was already at this hospital, the doctors here had agreed to care for him. He did not question the call, knowing that many times, injuries are not as bad as initially thought to be.  He returned home and 15 minutes later, got a call that the hospital where the prisoner was taken originally, had examined him and had refused to accept him due to the extent of the injuries, and he would be transported to the hospital where Vince practiced. Vince made his way to the hospital.  It was a Friday afternoon when traffic is bad.  By the time he arrived, the prisoner had lost so much blood that Vince later described to me, how he and his assistants were standing in blood while the hospital was searching all over town for more blood and all that was being transfused was pouring out from his body.  He saved his life; nonetheless, later that night, he developed complications.  Vince returned to the hospital where he took him to surgery where he died. Vince was sued for not being at the hospital when the prisoner arrived.  Our attorneys felt this was a no-brainer and either the driver or the referring hospital, if anyone was charged, would be charged, for not following city protocol.  Surely the triage department at the other hospital had to know this injury was much more serious and should not have kept the patient.  Albeit a clear-cut case in the hospital attorney’s eyes, of Vince’s innocence, he was sued.  It was a huge suit. The jury was stacked with neighbors of the deceased family member.  Our attorneys requested a change of venue, but it was denied.  

Our children were devastated as were we.  Our daughter was going to college on the East Coast and our young son had decided he wanted to attend a prep school in the South.  Having felt that we had been deserted by our community, we took a leave where Vince would work with Doctors Without Borders and I would work as an administrator at a hospital thousands of miles from home, an area foreign to both of us.  He would help the really needy and I would work.  It seemed that our roles had changed and I was not opposed to it.  It gave me time to think on a career while Vince volunteered to do what he loved without the chance of lawsuits.  

Pasty knew this but as far as I was concerned, no one else knew it, not even Margaret, but now I found that Buddy knew it, so Patsy either told someone or Buddy found out via snooping.  

We were able to travel back and forth to the USA and visit with our children frequently and it had been our good fortune to be home when they graduated high school and college, respectively.  Our daughter, Valencia entered law school at Rice University and our son opted to attend William & Mary.  We still had them miles and miles apart, but we were farther away, and they were doing well, growing up and proving themselves wonderful latchkey kids.  

I was a little shocked that Buddy knew so much about me and yet I assumed that Buddy knew a lot about everyone.  I wanted to defend my husband but Buddy was doing a very good job of it.  I wanted to know how he knew.  Would it have been a case of “case law.”  A case that was so unique it would become a standard.  I did not care to ask nor did I care to ever pick up another law book and help study for trial.  I was tired of anything that had to do with law.  Just tired of it.  I had come to dislike lawyers and judges, and would never trust another jury again with the fate of one of my loved ones.

“Miranda, there is no reason for you to suffer this alone.  Gil and Katie knew.  Gil has discussed it with me subsequently.  Believe me, it scared him when he heard this, if Vince whose reputation as one of the best surgeons in the business was slapped with a judgment such as this, what would happen to the rest of them?  Gil was attending CME courses at Emory at the time, and Katie was visiting with Claire Elizabeth and me.  We discussed it at length.  Katie is not your enemy.  Gil is not your enemy. They are very empathetic and understanding.  We could all take a lesson from Katie, who by your standards is not Gloria Vanderbilt, but she is a fine, caring human being.  Katie and Gil would never mention this in casual conversation, nor would they want to embarrass you, anymore than Ginger, but let’s get back to Ginger.  It seems you are blaming her for being in love with your brother.  She was very young when she met him.  We were all young.  I think there was a time in my life when I would have left either of my wives if you had walked in the door and said, ‘Let’s do it.’ But I know at my age the only winners in divorces are the attorneys, the losers are the families.  You seem to, by your attitude, blame me for both of my marriages failing, and I will gladly take the blame, but there are two sides to every coin.”  

“Buddy, I am not going to say that I am a saint, far from it.  I have felt the same way many times, that if you walked into a room and rescued me from the things I was going through, I might have walked out.  I know now that would have been a mistake because there is no finer husband in the world than Vince.  I question why I even came here today, because I know this is “your house,” from childhood, a place where we played house as children, and it will always be yours in my eyes, not Ginger’s, but I digress.”

“Miranda, you were always more like your mother than I thought you would be but there is nothing wrong with that.  You see Ginger can relate to my mother.  Ginger is in a very similar situation.  Tim loved Ginger.  Ginger never loved Tim.  Tim knew when he married Ginger what he was accepting and he accepted it.  Later they both decided it was a mistake.  Randall has never married and Ginger would like to live out what she has in life with him.  She thinks she can save him from himself.  Perhaps she can.  I doubt it, but I don’t despise Randall like you.  I don’t have the same grudge for ……..”  

He stopped.  “Daddy?  Yes, Daddy.  He was Daddy to me.  But he was someone who ruined my life.  What was he to you, Buddy?”

“Miranda, Buck Buckhannon is my daddy, just like Tim Ritz is Tush’s daddy.  Comprenez vous?”  

“This is a subject we should never have brought up, Buddy. We should have never seen each other again.  I should have left school in my junior year.  I should never have stayed.  If mother had had the money, I would not have.  I would have left the superintendent’s office that day with a packed trunk and traveled to faraway places.”

“Miranda, you cannot run away.  You keep trying.  I have no doubt you convinced Vince to leave instead of fighting back when he should have stayed and fought.  I would have been more than happy to appeal that case, and we would have won.  It was an open-and-shut case.  Vince needed a jury of his peers, not a group of uneducated wino’s.”

I analyzed his words.  He could sit and tell me how I had run away.  He was not the one who would have to leave and never return.  He is male.  I am female.  It makes a great deal of difference.  I tried to explain.  He would not hear.

“Miranda, I don’t know whether or not you noticed, but Ginger has not run away.  Ginger lives here in this town not with skeletons in her closet, but all poured out on the street and people accept her, because she is honest to a fault.  Everyone understands what she went through as a child, caring for her mother after her father died, suffering through the tragedy of Beverly shooting their brother.  She does not care what people think of her because she knows what she is and she is the one who has to live with all that.  She does not blame her Beverly but she does feel that her father should have faced up to what happened and helped her mother go on with life.  That is all Ginger regrets, that her father was so weak he wanted to check out and leave the burdens on Ms. Hamilton, Ginger and Beverly.  She knows she is not responsible for her father’s actions or Randall.  She is responsible for Tush.  She told Tush before someone in Tim’s family got drunk and told Tush.  She laid it all out on the table to Tush who had problems with it at first, but after having thought about it, the only think Tush cared about was that both Ginger and Tim were very good to her, gave her their all and the mistakes that Ginger made earlier in life had nothing to do with that.  She also knows the year after divorcing Tim that Ginger was seeing Randall, nothing legally wrong with that, just not something I wanted her to do, but Randall makes her happy when they are together.  Ginger deserves that for all the years she has had to live with everyone knowing her baby belonged to Randall and Randall did not care for her.  People change.  Ginger now realizes she could have raised Tush without Tim but she did what she felt was right at the time.  Furthermore, I do not blame my mother, nor do I blame your daddy.  They were young.  My daddy was gone a lot.  My mother knew my daddy was sterile.  My daddy knew I was not his biological child, but he raised me as if I was.  He gave me everything he possibly could.  I have had to look at this many ways.  It did not set well with me, either when I found out I was Randall’s half brother and what do you think I felt when we were told we are half siblings.  I did not believe it.  I did not want to believe it.  It was Buck Buckhannon who helped me with that.  I was never paid to understand.  I had to think about it and pray about it.  I hated my mother right then and I hated Buck even more for what I felt he was condoning mother’s affair with your father.  Can you imagine how it must have been for your mother and mine to know their babies were born on the same day, once they realized it on that day, the day we entered first grade and all the birth dates were posted on our homeroom door.  That must have been a hard bullet for both of them to bite.”

“Buddy, you do not have to feel dirty, you do not have to feel as though you were having sex with your sister.  I feel that I was.  I feel like a character out of Tobacco Road.  It affects women differently.”

“No, Miranda, it affects you differently.  I long got over that.  What I did not know was not my fault.  Perhaps it was fate because I was a stronger person after I got beyond it than I had ever been.  It took a few years.  It was after Marie got pregnant and had the baby.  I have no idea if that was my baby or not.  Marie liked to drive to Harvard and attend parties.  I was not the only one.  I was the only one back here that everyone knew, so it was easy for her to say it was my baby.  She had hoped Buck would take care of the baby, and he did for a while, but McDuffie and Dr Pridgen refused the help after they took the baby.  They wanted it to totally be theirs, and the baby had a loving home, good parents who have cared for her.  I feel no guilt whatsoever about the child having a better home than it would have had with Marie.  I will not “harp” on Marie long, either, because she has had share of burdens, burdens I am happy none of us have had.  There was no DNA testing back then.  Many nights I have gone to bed in the past few years, wishing I could know if it was my baby, but then I might be disappointed to find that it was or was not.  I am not sure what I would feel, so I let a resting dog lie.  She is a happy girl, Marie has another marriage, and I have had my share of marriages.  


My daddy, Buck, told me that he arranged many contracts for your mother’s design business, because he felt responsible in some way for how she was treated.  He tried very hard and with your mother’s great mind and creativity, she was very successful.  I think I could not have had a finer dad.  I sincerely regret that you have let what happened between my mother and your father affect your whole life as it has.  I no longer think of you as someone that I could not ravish if you were not married, I think I would like to take advantage of you, regardless but it is not my style.  I do not think of you as a blood relative.  Perhaps I should not think that way.  I think of you as someone whom I was very much in love with, overcome with, my first taste of love.  Let’s let it lie there.  You go home to Vince tomorrow, you make love to him and tell him what a lucky person you are to have him.  Support him in his new business venture.  I know it is not what he set out to do, but I wish you both every success.  Now, Ginger has gone to the parade. She dropped Annie Mae off, and left me here to talk with you.  Whatever you think of me, I cannot control but I would like to drive you into town, help you onto the homecoming float, blow a kiss your way and say goodbye until we meet again.”

Buddy walked me to his Jaguar, opened the door, made sure I was tucked with seat belt intact.  As we drove the short drive, I apologized for whatever inconvenience I had caused him.  He waved his hand as if there was nothing to forgive, and said, “Think of it no longer.”  When we arrived, he opened the door, helped me onto the float, made sure I was sitting in a safe location so that I would not fall from the haystacks, told me I could get a ride back to my car with Ginger who was waiting at the “corner drugstore” for me.  He was true to his word.  He blew me a kiss, boarded his Jaguar, and waved goodbye.  Within four hours he would be in Atlanta.  Within a similar time frame, I would be back in Louisiana.  I could hardly wait to see Vince, my hero through the years.

[Tylergal]

Will work on this tonight.  I have to feel invigorated when I work and last week was not one of those weeks for me.  I do however now have some new ideas and will work.  Had a lovely visit with a friend yesterday who read it and offered some words of encouragement, a retired English teacher.

[mrs. red]

Well I can't wait to see what happens next!    No wonder Miranda was so mad at her father...

what happened to her mom?

[mrs. red]

Well I can't wait to see what happens next!    No wonder Miranda was so mad at her father...

what happened to her mom?

I am still waiting for what happened?