Read Online Saving CeeCee Honeycutt by Beth Hoffman - Free Book Online

Tootie opened the driver’s side door and looked at me. “Cecelia, let’s go home. Delilah will lead the way.”
    I walked to the passenger side, took a deep breath, and climbed in. I’d never been in such a fancy car. It had tan leather seats as plush as sofas, and sprouting from the dashboard were all sorts of knobs and gizmos. In the backseat were three round floral boxes tied with silk ribbons.
    “Those boxes are pretty,” I said, wiping a tear from my cheek. “What’s in them?”
    “Hats,” she said, adjusting herself on the seat. “I started collecting them when I was in my twenties and haven’t stopped since. Would you like to wear one?”
    “Okay.”
    She reached over the seat and pulled one from its box. “I think this one will suit you just fine,” she said, handing me a white straw hat with a red flower pinned to its wide yellow band.
    I pulled it on and tucked in my bangs.
    Aunt Tootie tilted her head and smiled. “You know what, Cecelia? That hat looks better on you than it ever did on me. I think it’s time it moved on. If you’d like to have it, I’d be pleased to give it to you.”
    I learned over and looked at myself in the rearview mirror. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome, sugar. All right,” she said, pushing her glasses onto the bridge of her nose, “we’re on our way.” She revved the engine and put the car in reverse, but the car lunged backward and knocked over a reflector at the end of the driveway.
    “Don’t worry,” she said with a laugh. “I do a whole lot better when the road is in front of me.” She put the car in drive and roared down the street.
    As we left the town of Willoughby behind, I turned and rested my chin on the back of the seat. From the rear window I watched the only town I’d ever known disappear behind us. I don’t think I could have spoken if I’d tried, which turned out to be just fine. As she zoomed down the road, the sunlight dotting and splashing across the windshield, Aunt Tootie twittered on about everything from the herb garden she’d just planted to how much she loved old houses, antique clocks, and Boston cream pie. The farther we traveled, the more I calmed down, and after we had stopped for lunch, I found my voice and was able to share a little bit in the conversation. I told her how much I loved to read, and how I’d learned about flowers from Mrs. Odell.
    “So you like working in the garden?”
    “Yes. I even like to pull weeds.”
    “Oh, that’s wonderful. Maybe you’d like to help me with my gardens too. Now, let me tell you about the things I planted on the north side of the house . . .”
    I’d never met anyone who could talk as much as Aunt Tootie. She kept right on talking until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, pulling wispy violet-blue clouds behind it. It wasn’t until the moon rolled over the tops of the trees that she wound down her storytelling and asked me to help her watch for a place to stay for the night.
    “When Taylor and I traveled, it was my job to find a motel. As soon as it started to get dark, he’d say, ‘Tootie-girl, it’s time for you to be the scout,’ and then I’d watch for a place to stay.”
    “Where did the name Tootie come from?”
    Her eyes lit up and she let out a little laugh. “When I met Taylor I’d never driven a car. In fact, I’d always been scared to death at the thought of it. Taylor said it was imperative that I learn to drive; he said all women should savor their independence. So, despite my protests, which I can assure you were many, he taught me. But when I got behind the wheel, I was so nervous I could hardly think straight. Every time a car got close, I’d wave my arms and toot the horn like crazy to warn everyone to keep clear. Taylor laughed and laughed. He thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. That’s when he nicknamed me Tootie. All my friends picked up on it, and pretty soon nobody called me Tallulah anymore.”
    As the wind whistled