Free Shadowed Summer by Saundra Mitchell Page B

kidding? I could use this one.”
    Seeing a chance to change the subject, I threw in the part Collette left out. “It’s only good if nobody looks at you, though.”
    Ben smiled, and suddenly I did, too.
    “Anyway,” Collette said, holding her hand out for the spellbook, “whatever it is, you’ve got a connection, so we should do the board at your house.”
    I gaped at her. “He’s already riled up—you want to make it worse?”
    Collette shrugged. “I think he’s just frustrated.”
    Seeing as how Elijah came and went as he pleased and could cart a whole riverbed into my room if he felt like it, I didn’t see how he was the one who was frustrated.

chapter seven

    T he inside of Nan Burkett’s trailer smelled sweetly artificial, like apple spice from a can.
    Rose-patterned curtains covered the windows, matching the dusk-pink couch and creamy carpet. Curio shelves held a collection of porcelain Scarlett O’Haras, with the occasional kitty thrown in for variety.
    “I have red pop and lemonade,” Miss Nan said, gesturing for us to sit down. When she walked, her hips swayed back and forth, her tight denim skirt whispering with each step.
    I was pretty sure I caught Ben staring, but since I had been, too, I couldn’t hold it against him. She was just plain interesting to look at.
    We all took lemonade, which she brought to us in glasses with little ivy leaves ringing the rim. I thought I saw her add a little extra something to hers before she went back to a pile of laundry on her table.
    “So,” she said, picking up a white T-shirt with the ghost of a grease stain on it. “Y’all want to hear about Elijah.”
    Collette nodded in midsip, hurrying to swallow so she could answer proper. “Yes, ma’am. Everything you remember.”
    Miss Nan smiled with her mouth closed, like she’d remembered a secret. “Well, first off, he was something to look at—long ol’ eyelashes, the sweetest damned smile. His mama wouldn’t let him wear his hair long, but he got enough in front to feather it.”
    She took a deep drink of her lemonade and picked up another shirt. “Anyhow, he was a boy. He ran all over, joyriding, playing stickball, sneaking into the movies. His mama didn’t know about all that. There was plenty she didn’t know.”
    Condensation trickled down my glass, giving me a good reason to have the shivers. Miss Nan’s sunny face had clouded over, an old storm new all over again.
    “Was she strict?” I asked.
    “Oh hell yes,” Miss Nan said, and reached for her glass. “Babette Landry had herself one perfect baby boy, and she planned on keeping him that way.”
    The hard edge in Miss Nan’s voice made Babette sound like a curse.
    Subtle as I could, I elbowed Collette. Ben had the sense to talk out loud. “How come?”
    Fortifying herself with another swallow of lemonade, Miss Nan went back to folding. “She had him late, first, last, and only. Elijah was a bandage baby, the kind a woman has to patch a marriage up when it starts falling apart.”
    We all nodded, and I leaned over my glass. “Did he hate her for it?”
    I didn’t mean to sound so hungry, but she knew so much. Gossipy things, real things—it was like eating sugar straight from the bowl.
    Stopping midfold, Miss Nan trained a slow look in my direction. “Why do you care so much about old Elijah Landry? Your daddy been reminiscing?”
    “Sort of,” I lied bravely. My eyes watered when Collette pinched the side of my thigh. I’d have appreciated getting her approval without the bruises. “He just talked about the football team.”
    Hesitation weighted the moment. Miss Nan wrapped her arms around herself, clutching a blue dress shirt, for what seemed like forever. Then, like somebody’d flipped her switch, she started going again.
    “Now, look. He loved his mama all right. All men do—you girls remember that—but the older he got, the less he wanted to be her doll baby. She had too many rules. No swimming because he might drown.