South of Superior - Ellen Airgood [104]
“You’re not supposed to say Hell.”
“Oh, you hush. Go make yourself useful, why don’t you, go over to Albert and get Us some peaches.”
He scrambled Up and came to Madeline for money. She gave him a ten-dollar bill—cautiously, though she tried not to let him see that, because she had so few of them left. He trotted away and Madeline sighed. “What’ll his life be like, I wonder.”
“Just like it is, I guess.”
“Mmm.”
“Could be a whole lot worse.”
“Seems like it would be nice if it was a whole lot better.”
“Randi ain’t a bad girl, but she doesn’t know which end is Up, really.”
Madeline didn’t respond to that. Randi was going to be released from the hospital later in the week and moved to the AFC home in Crosscut where Walter lived, courtesy of the State. She didn’t belong in a home for the mentally impaired, but if she didn’t go there she’d have to stay in the Soo, so much farther away from McAllaster and Greyson. Randi had been assigned a social worker, who went through a great deal of effort to arrange this. Randi seemed indifferent, but Madeline was grateful. It would simplify her schedule and cut down on the gas and mileage. Of course Greyson would want to see his mother more than ever, which was maybe not so good for him, but Madeline couldn’t tell him no. She thought that he saw Randi both too much and too little. Just enough to Upset him and knock him—and Madeline—constantly off balance. And as for Randi, she almost seemed not to care what they did.
Her court date was months off still. Madeline thought she’d end Up doing time at the county jail in Crosscut, or if her luck was really bad, the women’s prison downstate. Mabel Brink said that her great-nephew, who was a police officer, claimed that the district attorney was making a name for herself as being tough on drugs. As little as Madeline liked the things Randi’d done, she feared for her. She found herself hoping the court would go easy on her, and not only for Greyson’s sake.
“Some folks are just born to suck hind teat in life,” Mary said.
Madeline could have been one of those people if not for Emmy. And now she was following in Emmy’s footsteps, something she would never have predicted. She’d never imagined raising a child. It was always something she thought she’d think about later, and never got to. Too scared, maybe. Guilty of what Richard had accused her of, back in April when she gave his ring back: holding herself apart, never trusting anyone but Emmy, never giving herself over to anything. Well, maybe he’d been right. But now here she was, the same person, but different. She felt herself smiling as Greyson headed back toward them, the bag of peaches clutched to his chest. He arrived puffing, with red circles on his cheeks.
“You’re the little engine that could, aren’t you?”
“Huh?”
“It’s a story. I’ll tell it to you sometime. Here, wash off three peaches.”
“Can Jack have one?”
“No, Jack can’t have one,” Mary growled. Greyson shrugged and took the jug of water Madeline held out to him and poured it over three peaches, one at a time, causing a small river of mud to form at the toes of his ripped-out sneakers. She would have to look for a new pair for him next time she went out of town. She took the peach he held out and closed her eyes as she bit into it: the last taste of summer, juicy and sweet. Greyson leaned on her knees and when Madeline opened her eyes he held out his arms to be picked Up. She bundled him onto her lap.
They ate their peaches, juice dripping everywhere. Greyson hummed a song to himself. Mary stared off across the horizon.
Madeline studied her from beneath the brim of her hat, wondering what her thoughts were. Mary and Albert had kept showing Up at the empty lots, selling what they could before the sheriff ran them off. Mary argued every time, telling the sheriff to go to Hell before she shoved her syrup and fish and lawnchairs in her truck and roared away. Albert argued too, waving a license in the sheriff’s face, showing him it said he could peddle his fruit anywhere in the state, shouting that