Mary Jane by Jessica Blau (debian ebook reader TXT) 📗

stay and prepare dinner unless Bonnie was incapacitated?”

“Yes.”

“So when I talk to her about the week at the beach she might mention Bonnie’s cancer?”

“She probably won’t,” I said. “Because she thinks cancer is very private. But I don’t know. If you said something about Mrs.Cone swimming in the ocean, she might . . .” I swallowed hard and squeezed back tears. “I’m sorry I lied. I bet you didn’tthink you had a liar as a summer nanny.”

Dr. Cone laughed. “No, I understand why you lied.” He reached out and rubbed my shoulder. “It’s okay. This isn’t a crime.You were trying to manage two different households with two different value systems. And, yes, it’s not good to lie. But Ican see that was the only way you could find to make the situation work. I appreciate it, Mary Jane. I think you can let yourselfoff the hook here.”

Mrs. Cone and Sheba came into the dining room. They were in the matching black pixie wigs.

“What happened?” Sheba pushed a chair next to me, sat, and then pulled me against her chest. I started crying again.

“Richard, what is it?” Mrs. Cone hovered over us. Dr. Cone stood and then Mrs. Cone took his seat and leaned in close so she,too, was hugging me.

“Richard! Why is she crying?” Sheba said.

“Her mother wouldn’t let her cook dinner for us unless Bonnie was incapacitated. So Mary Jane told her mother that Bonniehas cancer and that’s why she has to stay and make dinner each night.”

“I’m so sorry I lied!” I cried, and Sheba hugged me deeper. Mrs. Cone was at my back, hugging me too. I’d never been so closeto two human bodies before, and I was surprised that it didn’t feel closed in and claustrophobic. It felt nice. And warm.And safe.

“Oh, honey! You don’t have to feel bad! I would have had to tell my own mother the same thing,” Mrs. Cone said.

“Mary Jane, no one cares that you lied about that!” Sheba said, and kissed my head the way everyone kissed Izzy.

Mrs. Cone started laughing. “Cancer! Because only something as horrible and deadly as cancer would relieve a woman from thetedium of having to make dinner for her family every night!”

 

Everyone gathered in the kitchen near the phone as I dialed the number for my house. Sheba put her finger to her lips andmade big eyes at everyone after I’d dialed the last number.

My mother answered the phone on the second ring. “Dillard residence.”

“Mom, Dr. Cone can talk to you now.”

“Thank you, Mary Jane. Put him on.” I could see her so clearly. Standing in the kitchen near the beige wall phone. Holdinga pen and a pad of paper so she could write down any important details, like the address of the home where we’d be staying.

“Mrs. Dillard, what a pleasure to finally speak to you!” Dr. Cone sounded more formal, more upbeat than he did in the house.Jimmy put an arm around me and pulled me into him. I could feel the fuzz of his chest hairs through his shirt and wonderedif that was a sex addict thought or just a thought.

Mrs. Cone picked up Izzy. Izzy put her finger to her lips like Sheba. Sheba smiled and put one arm around Jimmy.

“Mary Jane has been a lifesaver this summer. I don’t know what we would have done without her.” Dr. Cone nodded as my mother spoke on the other end. “I’m not the least bit worried about her ability to mind Izzy at the beach. Also, Izzy loves cooking with her, so a large portion of their afternoon is spent in the kitchen.” Dr. Cone looked over and winked at the group. “Yes. Yes. Of course . . . we’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning and we’ll return the following Tuesday morning. I could have her call each evening if you’d like. We’ll pay the phone charges. . . . Yes, yes, I understand. Thank you and please give my regards to Mr. Dillard.”

When Dr. Cone hung up the phone, we all looked at him.

“She asked that I give you a ride to church on Sunday and sends her best wishes to Bonnie.”

“So I can go?”

“Yes, you can go.”

“HURRAH!” Izzy shouted, and everyone cheered and hooted as if something truly spectacular had just gone down.

9

Jimmy sat in the front seat with Dr. Cone. The rest of us bumped around in the back, Izzy and myself framed by Mrs. Cone andSheba. No one had on a seat belt and the windows were open, blowing my hair into my face. Mrs. Cone’s and Sheba’s blond wigsbarely moved, as if the hair were too heavy to be pushed around.

“When I was a kid, my family always sang in the car,” Sheba said.

“Can I have a Lorna Doone?” Izzy asked me, though her mother was the one who had packed the cooler with snacks and placedthem in the wayback of the station wagon.

“Yes. Anyone else?” I flipped around in my seat and leaned into the wayback.

“Bring out the whole pack,” Mrs. Cone said.

“We sang mostly school songs,” Sheba said. “Like ‘My Country, ’Tis of Thee.’”

“My country ’tis of thee—” I started the song as I sat back in my seat and opened the box of cookies. I handed one to Izzy and tried to give one to Mrs. Cone, who waved her hand to mean no, thanks.

“Sweet land of liberty—” Sheba joined in.

I sat forward and handed Dr. Cone and Jimmy each a cookie. Sheba and I kept singing. When Jimmy twanged in with his rumblingvoice, it suddenly sounded beautiful.

“Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrims’ pride, from ev-ryyy mountain side, let freedom ring!”

“Why did the fathers die?” Izzy asked.

Mrs. Cone reached over my lap, took Izzy’s unfinished cookie, bit into it, and then handed it back. “I guess they’re talkingabout the dads who died in the Revolutionary War.”

“What’s that?”

“When Americans decided they didn’t want a king or a queen.” Sheba reached over, grabbed the box of cookies, and pulled oneout.