which didn’t embarrass him as much as he thought it might. They were more a curiosity, the big pads with a set of instructions that showed a woman fitting a pad into clips on an elastic belt that made her look like she was wearing the letter “Y” below her waist. The dresses in the closet were all size nine, and many had rhinestone buttons, lacy collars, and large pockets. There was a carton of Camel Lights on the high shelf, shoeboxes with tissue sticking out from under the lids, scrapbooks, and a large, stuffed Steiff bear Grandpa had given her after they met. The only things Ramona had taken from the room that had belonged to her mother were the Elvis albums and the small tabletop stereo with tinny speakers. They were now in an unused room in the four-bedroom house, a catchall room where Ramona liked to listen to music and reminisce back to when MawMaw was alive and life was good.
Logan sat his mom down on the side of the bed and told her to stay put. Then, he went and got a single Rubbermaid container that wasn’t too heavy to drag and brought it into the room.
“Let’s pretend, OK?”
Ramona sighed deeply. “Is this going to take long? Go get my cigarettes.”
Logan found an unopened pack, a lighter, and an ashtray, and brought them to her. Instead of arguing with him that she already had an open pack and didn’t want them to go stale, she unwrapped the cellophane on the fresh pack of cigarettes, tapped one out, and lit it.
Logan took that as a good sign she just might listen.
Chapter 22
Once Zella unlatched the trunk and threw back the lid, she moved aside so Ryan could look inside. He was dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans, his image reflected back on the inside mirrored lid as he reached in and brought things out.
Dressed in overall shorts and a form-fitting, ribbed white tee, Zella sat on the lawn, her elbows on her raised knees. Her feet were bare, and her lustrous hair was clipped up. Between her youthful demeanor and the fact she was keeping her looks as she aged, she seemed more like her son’s older sister than his mother.
Ryan pulled out a clear bag containing a stainless steel sheathed blade, a circular base, and a set of Styrofoam cups. “What’s this?”
Zella jumped up with the grace of a young athlete and nearly skipped over to the picnic table near the pool. “Come over here.”
A few feet from the table, Nana woke, gave her head a shake, and barked once.
“You can be our audience, girl,” Ryan told her. He sat down across from his mother and handed her the bag. Zella removed the blade, unsheathed it, and placed it on the flat wooden table, weatherproofed the previous spring in lacquer the shade of cinnamon. A sudden gust of wind caused the Styrofoam cups to skitter off the table and roll across the lawn. Nana barked again and rose to chase them with Ryan.
He returned with them, winded. “Maybe we should go inside.”
“No, this will just take a minute.”
He watched as she inserted the blade straight up into a circular base and covered it with one of the cups. Then she placed the other two cups upside down beside it and turned around on the bench. “OK, mix them up.”
Ryan rearranged them and stood up. He examined the cups from different angles to see if he could detect any differences between them and couldn’t.
“OK, you can turn around.”
Zella whipped around on the bench, her eyes gleaming. She stood up and studied the cups, then slammed her palm down on the first one, crushing it.
Ryan was horrified. “Mom!”
“It’s OK, it’s OK.” She walked around the table, then back to her side. She crushed the middle cup with her fist next.
“Oh, my God!”
Zella wore a mischievous expression. “What?”
Ryan lifted the third cup off the table. The stainless steel blade glinted in the afternoon sunlight. “How did you know where the knife was?”
Zella lifted up the base and turned it over. Four inches of fishing line had been taped across the bottom so
Logan sat his mom down on the side of the bed and told her to stay put. Then, he went and got a single Rubbermaid container that wasn’t too heavy to drag and brought it into the room.
“Let’s pretend, OK?”
Ramona sighed deeply. “Is this going to take long? Go get my cigarettes.”
Logan found an unopened pack, a lighter, and an ashtray, and brought them to her. Instead of arguing with him that she already had an open pack and didn’t want them to go stale, she unwrapped the cellophane on the fresh pack of cigarettes, tapped one out, and lit it.
Logan took that as a good sign she just might listen.
Chapter 22
Once Zella unlatched the trunk and threw back the lid, she moved aside so Ryan could look inside. He was dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans, his image reflected back on the inside mirrored lid as he reached in and brought things out.
Dressed in overall shorts and a form-fitting, ribbed white tee, Zella sat on the lawn, her elbows on her raised knees. Her feet were bare, and her lustrous hair was clipped up. Between her youthful demeanor and the fact she was keeping her looks as she aged, she seemed more like her son’s older sister than his mother.
Ryan pulled out a clear bag containing a stainless steel sheathed blade, a circular base, and a set of Styrofoam cups. “What’s this?”
Zella jumped up with the grace of a young athlete and nearly skipped over to the picnic table near the pool. “Come over here.”
A few feet from the table, Nana woke, gave her head a shake, and barked once.
“You can be our audience, girl,” Ryan told her. He sat down across from his mother and handed her the bag. Zella removed the blade, unsheathed it, and placed it on the flat wooden table, weatherproofed the previous spring in lacquer the shade of cinnamon. A sudden gust of wind caused the Styrofoam cups to skitter off the table and roll across the lawn. Nana barked again and rose to chase them with Ryan.
He returned with them, winded. “Maybe we should go inside.”
“No, this will just take a minute.”
He watched as she inserted the blade straight up into a circular base and covered it with one of the cups. Then she placed the other two cups upside down beside it and turned around on the bench. “OK, mix them up.”
Ryan rearranged them and stood up. He examined the cups from different angles to see if he could detect any differences between them and couldn’t.
“OK, you can turn around.”
Zella whipped around on the bench, her eyes gleaming. She stood up and studied the cups, then slammed her palm down on the first one, crushing it.
Ryan was horrified. “Mom!”
“It’s OK, it’s OK.” She walked around the table, then back to her side. She crushed the middle cup with her fist next.
“Oh, my God!”
Zella wore a mischievous expression. “What?”
Ryan lifted the third cup off the table. The stainless steel blade glinted in the afternoon sunlight. “How did you know where the knife was?”
Zella lifted up the base and turned it over. Four inches of fishing line had been taped across the bottom so
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