LaVyrle Spencer - The hellion

Both dark, brown-eyed beauties, blessed with good health and sunny dispositions, Tommy Lee and Rachel had grown up knowing the pride of their parents' eyes each time they achieved the next plateau of maturity, and sensing their parents' approval as they ran off together to whatever pursuit called them at any given age.

The memories struck Rachel like an assault-so many of them.

Her eyes dropped to the hedge. From above, it was clearly visible where the single boxwood had been left unplanted to create a walk-through between the two yards. Not even twenty-four years had disguised its original intent; it seemed to be waiting for one of them to breach it and cross again into the neighboring yard.

She'd been reminiscing for long minutes, her head leaning against the window frame when Callie Mae found her there.

"Miss Rachel?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Rachel

turned to find wide arms waiting to gather her in and tears glittering in the kind eyes.

"Callie Mae." The black woman was shaped like a wrecking ball, her skin the color of sorghum syrup, and she smelled of the kitchen, as she always had. "Oh, Callie Mae." For a moment the two women comforted each other; then Callie Mae drew back, holding Rachel's arms tightly in her broad hands.

"What you doin' up here, hidin' away?"

Rachel sniffed and ran a hand beneath her eyes. "Exactly that, hiding away."

"Your daddy lookin' for you."

"I just needed to come up here for a while. To think."

Callie Mae's eyes roved to the window briefly. "'Bout Mr. Owen?"

Rachel turned aside guiltily. "Yes. Among other things."

"I seen you standin' there lookin' across the yards. Can about imagine what other things." But there was no note of scolding in the older woman's voice. Instead it was reflective and sad. "Don't seem right they don't come and pay their respects on a day like this. But then it's the

second time somebody died in this family 25 and they was too stubborn to do what they knew was right."

"It's not only them. It's Daddy, too."

"Yes. Stubborn fools."

For a moment Rachel tried to repress the words, but in the end could not hold them back.

"Tommy Lee came to the cemetery today."

Callie Mae silently rolled her eyes, folded her hands, and said, "Halleluja." Then she caught Rachel's chin with one imperious finger, forcing it up while she noted, "So that's why you're cryin'.was

Callie Mae had been the Talmadges's maid when Rachel and Tommy Lee were growing up, and in the years since Eulice's death had divided that duty between Rachel's house and Everett's. There were no secrets kept from Callie Mae.

"Partly."

Again Rachel was wrapped in a motherly hug. "Well, you go ahead, get it all out o' your system. You just cry it out, then you'll feel better. And when you're done, you come down to the kitchen." She backed away and smiled down at

the woman she would always look upon as a girl no matter how adult and refined she'd become. "Got your favorite down there, cream cheese pound cake."

That at last brought a wan smile to Rachel's face. Food was Callie Mae's panacea for all the troubles in this world.

"Not today, Callie Mae. I just don't think I could hold anything down."

"Hmph! You nothin' but skin and bones, Miss Rachel. It's time you started eatin' right again." She turned toward the door with a sigh. "Well, time I got back down there."

When she was gone, Rachel listened to the sound of voices from below. Lord, she was so tired. If she waited a few more minutes, maybe the last of them would leave.

She crossed to the bed, tested the mattress with five fingertips, and fell across the white eyelet spread with an arm thrown above her head. She closed her eyes and for a moment was fourteen again, a blushing fourteen, lying in bed quaking with disbelief because Tommy Lee Gentry had just kissed her in the break of the boxwood hedge. For the first time- really kissed her. Then his eyes had widened with

wonder and he'd walked backwards to his 27 side of the yard while she'd stood staring, amazed, for several heart-thumping seconds before spinning to her own yard and racing, as if a ghost were chasing her, up the stairs to this room, to this bed, to flop on her back and stare at the white canopy in the moonlight and feel herself begin to change from girl to woman.

Rachel rolled to her back, eyes closed, soul shot with guilt for dredging up dreams of Tommy Lee within hours after burying her husband. Where were the memories of Owen? Did nineteen years of happy marriage count for nothing? She thought of their childless house, and emptiness clawed upward through her body. If only there were children- someone to comfort her now, to help her through the days ahead. Instead, Rachel faced the dismal prospect of returning to the empty house alone.

"Oh, here you are, Rachel."

At the sound of Everett's voice, Rachel coiled off the bed as if caught perpetrating an indecent act upon it.

"Daddy… I'm sorry. I must have drifted off."

"Marshall was looking for you."

"Oh. I'll go down in a minute. I just needed to get away."

Everett's eyes slowly circled the room. "Finding you here in your room this way… it brings back memories of when you were a girl and your mother was alive." Absently he wandered to the south window, drew back the curtain and gazed at the view beyond. "Times were so happy then." As if suddenly realizing what he'd been staring at, he dropped the curtain. "I wonder if I'll ever stop missing her."

You could have friends, she thought. Two more than you've got. Two who meant so much to both of you at one time. She glanced at the top of the Gentry house beyond her father's shoulder, then at his back. It was slightly stooped now-funny, she'd never noticed it before. But then, the weight of guilt rested heavily; it was bound to weigh him down in time.

But he was still her father, and in spite of everything she loved him. At times when she remembered, when she thought of all she'd missed, she found it possible to hate him. But he was human, had needs, perhaps even regrets, though these he never revealed.

Very quietly she asked, "Do you ever 29 see them?"

His shoulders stiffened. "Drop it, Rachel." But his stern tone only forced her on.

"I've heard that Tommy Lee doesn't talk to them anymore."

"I wouldn't know. And it's none of my business."

You made it your business twenty-four years ago, Daddy, she thought. But aloud she only observed in the quietest of voices, "I was looking at the hedge you and Gaines Gentry planted all those years ago. You can still see the break where-was

"Rachel!" he barked, swinging around. "I fail to understand how you can be preoccupied with thoughts like that on a day when you've just buried Owen."

She flushed, standing before him with fingers clasping and unclasping against her stomach. Guilt came creeping over her, and she upbraided herself for speaking of the Gentrys today of all days. She studied Everett's face, noting how gray and shaken he was. "I'm sorry, Daddy. Owen's death has been terrible for you, hasn't it?" It was an odd question from a widow, but they both knew her

relationship with Owen had been staid, comfortable at best, and the past six months had been hell for her. His death had come as somewhat of a relief, so Rachel had her guilt, too.

"I had such plans for him," Everett sighed, prowling the room, avoiding his daughter's eyes.

"I know you did." Owen had been his hope, the son he'd never had, his right hand in business. But Everett's shoulders lifted in a fortifying sigh, and he turned again to his daughter.

"I guess we'd better go back down. I left the Hollises there, visiting with Marshall."

"Yes, I guess we'd better." But she wondered how she'd tolerate any more of Pearl Hollis's noisy weeping, or Frank Hollis's dolorous looks, which seemed to say, if only Owen had had children.