"She'll be all right agin, give her time," stated Kitty matter-of-factly, sitting down and picking up a section of the paper he'd laid aside. "Okay, Heaven, eat up. Got a lot t'do today, all of us. Gonna show ya t'time of yer life ain't we, honey?"
"Yeah," he said gruffly, "but it would have been nicer for Heaven if she didn't have to be seen as she is."
Despite my face, once I had the ointment wiped off I did have a wonderful time seeing Atlanta and the hotel where Kitty had her beauty salon, all decorated in pink, black, and gold, where rich ladies sat under slick white hoods banded in pink and gold, where eight pretty girls worked, and everyone there was a blonde.
"Ain't they pretty, though, ain't they?" asked Kitty, looking so proud. "Jus love bright golden hair that looks sunny an cheerful . . . not dull silvery-blond hair that's hardly no color at all."
I winced, knowing she was referring to my mother's hair.
She introduced me to everyone, while Cal stayed out in the hotel lobby, as if Kitty didn't want him in here with all these girls.
Then they took me shopping again. Already I was wearing a pretty new blue coat that Cal had chosen, and it fitted perfectly. Unhappily, all that Kitty selected for me--skirts, blouses, sweaters, underwear--she bought a size too large, and I hated the heavy, clumsy white saddle shoes she thought I should wear. Even the valley girls in Winnerrow wore better than those. I tried to tell Kitty this, but she had her own memories of what kind of shoes she'd worn. "Don't ya say anotha word! Kids don't wear fancy shoes t'school--they don't!"
Yet, when we were again back in the car, I had to feel happy with so many new clothes, more than I'd had in all my life. Three pairs of shoes. Nicer ones to wear tomorrow when we went to church.
We ate again in a fast-food place that seemed to disgust Cal. "Really, Kitty, you know I hate this kind of greasy junk."
"Ya like t'throw good money around just t'show off. Me, I don't kerr what I eat if it's cheap enough."
Cal didn't reply, only frowned and turned very quiet, letting Kitty do all the talking as he drove and she explained the sights. "This is t'school where ya'll be goin'," she said as Cal drove slowly past a huge red-brick building that was surrounded by several acres of lawn and playing fields. "Ya kin ride t'yellow buses on rainy days, but walk on sunny ones Cal darlin honey, did we buy her all she needs fer school?" she shouted.
"Yes."
"Why ya mad at me?"
"I'm not deaf. You don't have to shout."
She snuggled closer to him as I leaned back and tried not to see how she kissed him even as he drove through traffic. "Honey sweetheart, love ya, I do. Love ya so much it hurts."
He cleared his throat. "Where is Heaven sleeping tonight?"
"With us, honey--ain't I done tole ya how it is with hill girls?"
"Yes . . . ya done tole me," he said with sarcasm, and then said no more, not even when we settled down that night so I could watch my first color television show. It was so thrilling it took my breath away. How beautiful all those colorful dancing girls, how little they wore, and then the scary movie came on, and Cal disappeared.
I hadn't even noticed when he left. "That's what he does when he's mad," said Kitty, getting up to switch off the TV. "Goes t'hide in t'basement, an pretends t'work. We're goin up now. Ya'll take anotha bath, wash yer hair yerself, an I won't enta while yer in there." She paused and looked thoughtful. "Right now I gotta go down an do some sweet-talkin t'my man." She giggled, and headed toward the kitchen, leaving me to enjoy my bath in the pink tub.
I hated to sleep again between Kitty and Cal. Hated the way she teased and tormented him, giving me the impression she didn't really love him half as much as he loved her. Did Kitty really hate men?
Sunday I was up first again. On bare feet I padded down the stairs, hurried through the kitchen, hunted for the door to the basement, and found it in a small back hall. Once I was down there in the dimness, I searched and searched among all the clutter that Kitty didn't keep neat and clean, until I found my suitcase put high on a shelf over a workbench. Granny's shawls were neatly folded in a pile beside it. I climbed up on the bench to pull down the suitcase, wondering if Cal had opened it.
Everything inside was exactly as I'd left it. I'd stuffed in six favorite books given to me by Miss Deale . . even a nursery-rhyme book that Keith and Our Jane had loved for me to read at bedtime. Tears filled my eyes just to see that book . . "Tell us a story, Hey-lee . . make it last, Hey-lee. Read it again, Heylee."
I sat down at the workbench, pulled out a notepad, and began a letter to Logan. Quickly, with a high sense of peril all around, I scribbled out my desperate situation, how I needed to find Tom, Keith, and Our Jane, would he please do what he could to find out where Buck Henry lived? I gave him the Maryland license plate's first three numbers. When I finished the letter I gathered up a few other things, then hurried to the front door to see the address. I had to dash down to the corner to find the street name. When I was back in the door I'd left open, I felt a fool, for there were magazines neatly stacked with Kitty's name, and the address and zip-code number. I rifled through a small desk to find an envelope and stamps.
Now all I had to do was find an opportunity to mail my first letter. Down in the basement my beautiful bride doll slept peacefully, awaiting that wonderful day when she and I, with Tom, Keith, and Our Jane, would head for Boston, leaving Fanny to enjoy herself in Winnerrow.
I tiptoed up the stairs, then on toward the bathroom, my letter stashed under the corner of the hall rug. I closed the bathroom door behind me and breathed a sigh of relief. The letter to Logan was my highway to freedom.
"Why, looky there, Cal, our lii gal is all dressed, ready fer church. So let's be on time fer a change."
"You look very pretty this morning," said Cal, sweeping his eyes over my new dress, and my face that had lost its redness, and most of the swelling had gone down.
"She'd look betta if she'd let me trim and shape that hair," said Kitty, eyeing me critically.
"No, leave her hair alone. I hate hair so placed and perfect. She's like a wildflower."
Kitty scowled and stared long and hard at Cal before she entered the kitchen and whipped breakfast together so fast I couldn't believe it would taste so good. Omelets. Why, I'd never known eggs could be so light and fluffy. Orange juice . . . oh, I prayed Our Jane, Keith, and Tom were drinking orange juice now, too. "Ya like my omelet?"