Under the Autumn Sky. Liz Talley

Sally. “It’s wrapped so pretty.”

      Sally rubbed the material of her skirt between her fingers and gave up a smile.

      Picou opened the gift while everyone found a comfortable spot. His mother lifted the lid. “Oh, my.”

      “What is it?” Lucille craned her head, and Abram noticed her wig was on crooked.

      “Look.” Picou picked up a small painted canvas and held it aloft. It portrayed a sunset on the swamps and was rather well done. His mother looked at Sally. “Did you do this?”

      Sally nodded. “I dabble around with painting every once and while. I thought it suited you.”

      Picou wiped tears from her cheeks with hands that bore more rings than necessary. His mother liked drama, wearing caftans, crazy feathers and ribbons in her soft gray hair and ornamenting herself like a palm reader at the state fair. She should have looked ridiculous. Okay, sometimes she did look a bit kooky, but it suited her. “Thank you, dear. I shall always treasure it.”

      Sally kept fiddling with her hem but managed another smile.

      Annie handed Picou another small gift. “From us.”

      Abram could tell it was a gift certificate. He hoped they hadn’t bought one to a spa. Rain on his parade, and all that. Nate constantly one-upped him on gift-giving.

      Picou pulled the red ribbon from the polka-dotted box. “This will make a good hair bow.” She tucked it beneath her thigh.

      Abram felt excitement radiating off Nate and Annie as Picou lifted the lid. Maybe they’d gotten her a trip? If they did, he’d be pissed. He’d once mentioned sending her on a cruise, and Nate had freaked over the expense. If Nate went and trumped everyone with a trip somewhere, he’d—

      “A grandmother’s brag book?” His mother’s eyebrows knitted together as she lifted the pink-and-blue photo book from the tissue paper. She flipped the book open and stared at a grainy-looking black picture. Two or three seconds tripped by.

      “Oh, my God!” Picou reared back against the chair, her eyes wide, her mouth open. “Is that—is that—”

      Annie started giggling and Nate just smiled.

      His mother stared with wonder at the picture in front of the book. “Are you telling me I’m going to be a grandmother?”

      Nate nodded.

      Annie collapsed in laughter.

      Picou shrieked.

      Lucille clapped.

      Annie and Nate had given his mother the gift she’d always wanted. Progeny. A stupid manicure and pedicure seemed like a booby prize compared to a baby. Like winning a five-dollar raffle ticket after winning a jackpot of over a million.

      He looked at his sister, who for once wore a genuine smile. “I think we lost on the gifts.”

      Sally laughed. “I think you’re right.”

      * * *

      LOU STARED AT the flashing lights in the driveway refusing to believe what she was seeing.

      Officer Harvey Coe climbed from the driver’s side and then opened the back door of the car. Waylon, head down, emerged.

      “Evening, Lou,” Harvey said, walking toward where she stood on the porch. “Hated to be bringing Waylon home this way, but I thought it might be best. He and a few boys were drinking beer down at the Sav-A-Lot parking lot, busting bottles, and such. One of the windows of the store got broke. Thought about arresting them, but being this is boys being boys, I gave ’em a warning and called Mr. Davenport about the window.”

      Waylon refused to look at her. He seemed to be studying the ragged pansies she’d planted that fall, and since she knew he had very little interest in botany, she knew he was afraid of her. He should be. Fury chomped away inside her. How dare he do something so infantile? So stupid?

      “Well, this is such a nice surprise,” Lou drawled, swatting away the moths dancing around the porch light before crossing her arms, mostly to keep from knocking her stupid brother in the head. “And here I was thinking my younger brother was at a friend’s house working on his research paper. Silly me.”

      She looked at Harvey who looked at Waylon who kept his gaze on the pansies. Silence lay on them like January snow.

      “Well, the boys are gonna have to pay for that window. Davenport said he’d get a bill to all the parents, and you, too. Sorry about this, Lou.”

      “Thanks, Harvey. Waylon will be calling Mr. Davenport to apologize, and he’ll take care of that bill.” Or she’d ride Waylon’s ass until the middle of next summer. Or until he stopped his irresponsible behavior.

      Harvey turned to Waylon. “Look at me, son.”

      Waylon lifted his head and stuck out his chin. Lou had seen that posturing before—scared little boy trying to be a man. Waylon’s brown hair gleamed almost red in the low porch light and she noticed he needed a haircut.

      The policeman pointed a sausage finger at him. “You need to keep your nose clean. I better not hear about you messin’ around with that Holland boy again. He’s trouble, you hear?”

      “Yes, sir,” Waylon said, shifting in his new Nike workout shoes. He sounded respectful, but Lou saw the rebellion in his eyes. She knew he’d been hanging out with Willie Holland’s boy for the last two weeks and couldn’t understand the fascination with the high school dropout. This was not good. Cy Holland worked at his father’s garage and rode Harleys on the weekend to biker bars all over the state. Cy was eighteen, tough and often in trouble with the Bonnet Creek and Ville Platte police departments.

      “Go in the house, Way,” Lou said, her voice quiet but firm. Inside she still shook with rage, but she wasn’t going to show it to either of the two males crowding her driveway.

      Her brother surged past, his unused backpack sliding off his shoulder as he pushed into the house.

      “Thanks again, Harv.”

      Harvey turned to her. “I know things have been tough on you, Lou, but you’re gonna have to keep a tight leash on that boy. He’s at an age where he’s gonna test you and everybody he comes up against. He’s got a lot riding on his shoulders. Better talk some sense into him. Maybe talk to Coach, too.”

      Lou bristled. Waylon was a good kid, no matter what Harvey implied. Sure, he’d been ill-tempered and difficult lately, but it wasn’t something she couldn’t handle, and she didn’t need David Landry inserting himself even more into Waylon’s life. As it was, he spent too much time hanging around the coach’s office and sometimes at the Landry house. “Again, I appreciate your doing this. I’ll take care of it from here.”

      “Night,” Harvey nodded and walked toward the cruiser still flashing its lights. She winced as her neighbor popped her gray head out the kitchen door and stared at the departing police car. The nosy old woman would have something to gossip about over coffee the next morning.

      Lou walked into the house and shut the door.

      It was 10:15 p.m. Nearly forty-five minutes past Waylon’s school-night curfew.

      Lori appeared in the hallway, clad in an old T-shirt and pajama pants. “What’s going on?”

      Lou shook her head, swallowing her aggravation. “Nothing to worry about. You finish that geometry assignment?”

      “Yeah, but I had to call someone for help on that last problem. Hey, is Way okay?” Lori’s curls bobbed as she glanced at the closed bedroom door behind her. Her sister had light brown hair, blue eyes and a sweet disposition, and though Lori often sniped with her older brother, she worshipped him.

      Lou shook her head, locked the front door and set the security system. “Not if I kill him for being stupid.”

      “What happened?” Her sister sank onto the worn sofa and