The Unfortunate Side Effects of Heartbreak and Magic(43)

When the ashes were cool, she sprinkled them around the perimeter, a protection that would last for a few nights, at least. As she sprinkled asafetida, she saved a little for herself. For if it could protect a garden from unwanted spirits, surely it could keep her from heartbreak.

It was time to take matters into her own hands.

At six o’clock she dragged herself upstairs to shower off the stench of ashes and soot and dirt. By the time she was finished, the scent of fried chicken was snaking its way under the doorjamb. She dressed in loose-fitting jeans, worn thin at the knees, and a cream cable-knit sweater. It was evening, so she allowed herself a look in the mirror. There were half-moons under her eyes, and her olive skin, though still tan from summer, was washed out. She rubbed some blush in. Not for herself, but so Gigi wouldn’t worry about her lack of color.

Slipping her feet into her well-worn leather sandals, she walked into the kitchen with heavy footfalls that thundered up to her heart and echoed bad omens. Gigi was there at the stove, watching over an enormous pan filled with fried chicken. The cornflakes were crisping golden as a summer sun, the hot oil filling the air like a promise. There was a pot of peas and corn simmering too. Sadie could still see the large pats of butter slowly melting.

“Hey, toot,” Gigi said.

“What’s all this?” Sadie asked.

“I just felt like cooking,” Gigi told her. “Baked beans are in the oven. And I’ve got a fruit salad here, but I don’t think it’s any good. Try it,” she demanded, handing Sadie a fork with a strawberry speared on it.

“Exactly how much sugar did you add to the fruit salad?” Sadie asked as she chewed.

“Now don’t you pitch a fit. It wasn’t edible without it.” Gigi leaned against the counter, her hand on her back as a grimace of pain flitted across her face. “I’m fine,” she said before Sadie could ask her.

“Mm-hm. And brown sugar in the baked beans?” Sadie asked, trying to keep her tone light but not liking the way Gigi’s body was bent over like a shepherd’s crook.

“And bacon. It’s the only way to make them,” her grandmother said resolutely, checking the chicken with a fork. “You know the Revelares were one of the founding families of Poppy Meadows, but my mother, she was a wanderer. Always chasing a man. I grew up here, but we settled in Oklahoma for a time. It was there she dropped me off at the bus station when I was twelve She told me she’d be back, but that if she wasn’t, to get on the bus to Chickasha and stay with my granddad.”

“By yourself?” Sadie asked horrified. “At twelve?”

“Things were different back then. Well, she didn’t come back. She was too busy to care. And I spent the summer with my granddad and hated every damn second. So, he told me that if I could save the money, I could take the bus to Newport Harbor, where my daddy worked in the shipyard. So, I sold my bike for thirty-five dollars, and that was a lot of money in 1942, mind you. Then I went door-to-door selling Cuticure, a miracle salve. If you had an ailment, Cuticure could fix it. When I finally got enough money, I took the first bus to Oakland.”

“And? Was it better than Chickasha?”

“Pfft, please. Daddy was seeing some dumb bimbo.” She stirred the corn thoughtfully. “I got to his apartment and she answered the door. Made me wait in the hallway until he got home from work. They didn’t want me. Nobody ever did. But I stayed anyway. And she’d lock me out while her and daddy had their ‘private time,’ so I spent every afternoon at the pictures until I had every newsreel and film memorized.”

“That sounds horrible.” Sadie frowned, absentmindedly eating the fruit salad with her fingertips and licking the sugar from her thumbs.

“Every Revelare leaves, but they always come back. That’s the saying. But my mother didn’t. I did. I always knew this was where I was supposed to be. But listen to me, blabbering on like an old fool. I just wanted you to know. Nobody ever wanted me except for your grandad. At least that’s what it felt like to a short, painfully shy kid like me with my huge nose and bullfrog voice. But I always wanted you and your brother. From the second I laid eyes on you, I knew you were meant to be mine. I hope you know that. I know it’s not good enough. I know I’m not your mother,” she said in a businesslike tone, taking the fried chicken from the pan and transferring it to the paper towels, waiting on the counter, to siphon off the excess grease.

“Gigi,” Sadie said in a voice soft as challah dough. But Gigi clucked her tongue. She never was one to get emotional. “Just so you know, your love has always been more than enough.”

“For you, maybe. But not for that brother of yours. And that’s okay. I just wanted you to know.”

Sadie didn’t like the way Gigi was telling stories like she needed someone to hear them. It sent a shiver down her spine much the same way sucking a lemon or getting a paper cut did.

Seth came in just as Gigi put the last piece of chicken on a paper towel.

“It’s time you two start being civil to each other before I knock your heads together in the hope of knocking sense into you both. I’m going out to have a cigarette. You two eat. And talk.”

“Gigi,” Sadie started but was cut off.

“Do this for me. We’ll talk more later, I promise.” And Sadie thought how amazing it was that Gigi could smile while holding such command in her voice.