All the Ugly and Wonderful Things (11 page)

“And she does
things
,” Leslie said, but the choir director wasn't listening.

Wavy already wore a white dress, so for the rehearsal all she needed was a halo and a pair of wings. Even without those things, she looked like an angel.

The rehearsal went fine until we broke for our snack. When we returned to the sanctuary, the Baby Jesus was missing. Like in a crime drama, the only things left behind in the straw were his swaddling clothes.

The adults searched through piles of costumes and boxes of decorations. The church ladies accused each other.

“I put it in the manger. I always put it in the manger,” said one.

“
Him!
” another lady said. “Our Lord Jesus is not an
it
.”

The choir director accused the Virgin Mary, who cried, and then the Virgin Mary's mother yelled at the choir director.

In the middle of the drama, Wavy leaned close to me and whispered, “Dust Bunny.”

“This isn't just some baby doll,” I said. “This Baby Jesus has been in the church's Christmas pageant every year for a long time.”

Wavy gave me the small, sneaky smile I knew so well.

She had Dust Bunnied the Baby Jesus.

“Let's look under the pews,” I said to Leslie. So we crawled through the sanctuary, searching under the pews. The other kids started looking, too, and five minutes later, the head shepherd said, “I found it!”

I cornered Wavy on the steps to the choir loft and said, “Why did you do that?”

“Easter egg hunt.”

That's what church was to Wavy: a set of games she didn't quite understand. I laughed, Wavy laughed, and the choir director yelled, “Who's giggling in the loft? And where's my third wise man? Please, can we focus?”

*   *   *

In Sunday School, we were supposed to make Christmas cards to deliver to church members who were too sick to come to church. Wavy cut out the wise men and the livestock, colored them in shades of purple and green, and glued them all around the edge of her card. She left Mary and Joseph and Jesus in a pile of cut out paper on the table.

Inside her card, where we were supposed to write Bible verses, Wavy wrote, “Dear Kellen.”

I didn't get to read what she wrote after that and neither did anyone else. When the teacher came around to look at our cards, Wavy wouldn't let her.

“Why not, sweetie? Just let me see.”

The teacher took a step closer and Wavy ran. For the rest of Sunday School she hid, and for the pageant, too. So the choir director didn't get her perfect blond angel to stand front and center and refuse to sing. After the pageant was over, as Mom was about to panic, Wavy walked out from behind the baptistery.

Back at home, Dad sat on the couch, reading his work papers, while Leslie, Donal, and I tore into our presents. Wavy had presents, too, but all she wanted for Christmas was an envelope and a stamp.

“Who's the card for?” Mom said.

Once it was safely sealed in the envelope and addressed, Wavy passed it to her.

“Jesse Joe Kellen? This is the boy who calls you Wavy?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Leslie was in eighth grade that year and had gone completely boy-crazy, and Dad's mom was just as bad.

“What color are his eyes? Blue? Brown?” Gramma Jane said.

Wavy nodded and said, “Soft.”

“Soft brown eyes are very nice. Is he in your class at school?”

Wavy shook her head.

“Well, is he younger than you? Or older?” Gramma Jane said.

Older.

They went on asking questions about Kellen and, to my surprise, Wavy answered. He had a shy smile and Wavy got to ride on his bike.

“Mom, stop, you're embarrassing her,” Dad said.

“She likes it,” Gramma Jane said. “Every girl likes to talk about the boy she likes. And he likes you, too, doesn't he?”

“He loves me.” Wavy followed the confession with one of her rare dimpled smiles. Mom thought it was so cute that she told the story to her book club friends when they came over for New Year's. Wasn't it sweet how her tragic ten-year-old niece had a little boyfriend who loved her?

It was sweet until Mom met Kellen.

We were in the kitchen, getting ready to leave for our music lessons, and Mom was arguing with Donal about his Christmas toys.

“Donal, we're going to come back to the house and get them, okay? You don't have to take them all with you. Wavy, will you tell him?”

Wavy shrugged, maybe because in her experience, you didn't always get to go back for your toys.

The doorbell rang and Mom sent me to answer it. On the front porch stood a huge man in jeans and a snap-front western shirt. He said, “Hey, I'm Kellen. I'm here to get Wavy and Donal.”

I left him in the entryway and ran back to the kitchen.

“Who was it?” Mom said.

“Kellen. He's here to get them.”

Donal dropped his toys and ran out of the kitchen, shouting, “Kellen!”

Wavy went after him.

Still in our coats, we trundled into the front hall, where Kellen swooped Donal up so high he almost knocked his head on the ceiling. Wavy smiled, while Donal talked nonstop. Now that he was talking, that was all he did. “And the Jesus baby was missing. And we crawled crawled crawled around on the floor to find it. And I wore a towel on my head. I was a shepherd. They wore towels on their heads. And Wavy was an angel. She had a halo. And … “

“Who is he?” Mom whispered to me.

“He said his name was Kellen.”

“Is he Jesse Joe's father?”

Mom opened her purse, rattling her keys to be sure her can of mace was there.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I'm Brenda Newling.”

Kellen set Donal down and came toward my mother with his hand out.

“Good to meet you. I'm Jesse Joe Kellen.”

I watched my mother's face as reality crowded out the story she'd invented. She had imagined little Jesse Joe as the sort of shy young man a quiet, wounded girl like Wavy could befriend. In Mom's fairy tale, they held hands and shared secrets, and would someday go away to college and have good lives, if properly encouraged by a supportive aunt.

Soft brown eyes and a shy smile, Wavy had said. His eyes were almost sleepy as he offered his hand to my mother, and a big gold cap studded the middle of his shy smile.

Behemoth
was the word my mother used to describe him to her book club friends, and he was enormous. Bigger than the Incredible Hulk on TV. Even though he wasn't green, Mom recoiled from the hand he offered. His shirtsleeves were cuffed back, revealing several tattoos, including one in a horseshoe shape. In the center of it was a four-leaf clover and the words
Lucky Motherfucker
. This was Wavy's “little boyfriend.”

My mother stepped back and bumped into Leslie. Kellen still had his hand out, offering to shake, but he withdrew it and rested it on Wavy's shoulder. She didn't shake him off, like she would have with anyone else.

“Well, this is really inconvenient,” Mom blurted. “No one called to say that they were leaving today. It's unreasonable for Val to expect…”

Kellen wasn't listening. He'd gone down on one knee so that he was eye-to-eye with Wavy. While he looked at her, the rest of us didn't exist.

Wavy whispered something into his ear and he answered: “I got your letter. I missed you, too.” All of that was shocking enough, but then she kissed him on the cheek. Unheard of.

“Mom, I'm going to be late to my lesson,” Leslie said. Only she would be upset about that. I dreamed of reasons to keep me from my violin lessons.

My mother cleared her throat and said, “Mr. Kellen, we have an appointment to go to. Perhaps you could come back this evening to discuss this.”

“I guess Val forgot to call.” Kellen finally took his eyes off Wavy and got to his feet.

“I guess so. If you'll excuse us, we need to leave. Come on, kids.”

“Why can't I go with Kellen?” Donal said.

“Because I haven't spoken to your mother yet.” My mother rattled her car keys. “Now, come on. Why don't you girls walk Mr. Kellen out, while I get the car? Don't forget to lock the front door.”

I was thrilled to stand in the entryway with Kellen. He had alarmed my mother and received a kiss from Wavy. As they parted on the front porch, Kellen reached out and ran his hand over Wavy's hair, all down her back. She turned and smiled at him.

At the music school, while Leslie was having her lesson, Mom scooted her chair next to Wavy's and whispered, “Who is that man?”

“Kellen.”

“Jesse Joe Kellen? The person you sent the Christmas card to?”

Wavy nodded.

“How old is he?”

Wavy shrugged.

When Dad came home from work, he and Mom went into the den and argued for half an hour. Then Mom came out and called Aunt Val. The phone rang for ages, before Aunt Val answered. Mom's whole face clenched up and she said, “Some man came here today to pick up your children. He said his name was Kellen. I was under the impression that Jesse Joe Kellen was a very young man, since Wavy told us he was her boyfriend.”

There was a long pause, as my mother wound the phone cord around her finger and then released it. Her face relaxed a little and she laughed.

“Of course, I know girls get crushes, but I am not about to hand your children over to some stranger who claims you sent him.

“Yes, not a stranger to her, but she's only ten. She can't be expected to look out for herself. It is not—”

My mother was going to have the last word until the doorbell rang. Dad answered it and the sound of Kellen introducing himself ended Mom's conversation with Aunt Val.

Donal had been playing with his cars on the floor, but he was up in an instant, running into the front hall. When Kellen stepped into the room, he had a giggling Donal slung over his shoulder. Dad shrugged at Mom and said, “Are you kids ready to go?”

For once, Wavy led the packing. As Mom watched from the doorway, Kellen held the bag for Wavy to put Donal's things in.

Next to my bed was a pile of Christmas presents that technically belonged to Wavy, including a blond Darci Cover Girl Model doll, two stuffed Smurfs, and a Mork and Mindy lunchbox. Ignoring all of that, Wavy pulled a book on constellations out of the pile. She handed it to Kellen with a smile and said, “For you.”

Mom had been particularly proud of that book. Something Wavy
would
like. Obviously she did like it, if she was giving it to Kellen, but my mother acted like Wavy had spit in her face.

After they were gone, Mom called her friend Sheila and said, “I just don't know what to do about my niece.” I think she only said it to be saying it, because I'd heard enough of her fights with Dad to know there were only three things we could do about Wavy. We could let her and Donal come live with us, we could call Child Protective Services, or we could “leave well enough alone.” I didn't know exactly what that meant, but it was always the decision Mom and Dad came to.

 

3

KELLEN

August 1980

All Liam said about the pickup in Nagadoches was, “Your job is to be the biggest, scariest son of a bitch in the room.” I shoulda known it wasn't gonna be that simple. What was supposed to take two days took four and when it was over, I'd done the one damn thing I'd always told Liam I wouldn't do. I killed somebody.

Driving home, I told myself it was different from Liam sending me to kill some guy on purpose. I didn't go down to Texas planning to kill them two Mexicans. They tried to kill me first. That was bad enough, but then Vic's car broke down, and there we were on the side of the road with twenty kilos of coke in the trunk. Plus the cash for the buy.

Vic drove this white '74 El Dorado Biarritz with red tufted leather seats. The car was waxed and polished and Armor-Alled like a showroom model, but under the hood, it was a goddamn mess.

“How long has it been since you changed the fucking oil?” I said.

Stupid bastard shrugged.

I'd been trying to keep my temper under control lately, stop getting in fights, but I couldn't believe he was that stupid. I punched him.

“What the fuck?” Vic screamed, catching blood from his nose before it could drip on his shirt.

“You tell me what the fuck, you driving around in a car that doesn't run. Do you think we can just flag down the highway patrol and get a tow?”

I pushed the car off the main road, sweating through the last pair of clean clothes I had. Then I spent two hours wedged up under the car, trying to get the bitch started.

We limped it to the next town, but there was no way that car was gonna make it back to Powell. So I called Danny at the shop and said, “Bring the flatbed.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to get a tow from there?” Danny was a good kid, but he smoked too much dope.

“Bring the tow truck. Tell Liam we're running late.”

Six hours later, we had the car on the flatbed and got headed back to the ranch. I drove. As tired as I was, I was too pissed to put up with Danny or Vic driving. People said I was stupid, but at least I could follow some basic rules. Like don't go on a drug buy in a car that might break down.

It was past ten when we got to the ranch, and Dee smirked at me while Liam tore me a new asshole. Like it was my fault the Mexicans tried to double-deal. Like it was my fault Vic's car broke down. Goddamn, I was done with Liam Quinn. Or I woulda been done with him, if it wasn't for Wavy.

I left the flatbed there and rode the Panhead home, just to get some fresh air on me. At the house, I was through the front door, pulling off my boots before I realized the kitchen light was on. Thinking of those dead Mexicans, my guts tightened up. Those boys probably had friends who wouldn't think much of me plugging them. I walked into the kitchen and leveled my gun right in Wavy's face.