Annie knows what those boys were thinking when they snuck out of their houses and lugged their shovels all the way to town. They were thinking they’d unearth the spirit of Joseph Carl so he’d chase off Aunt Juna. Everyone would know by now that Annie saw Aunt Juna. They’ve probably all been watching out their windows every night just like Annie, worried about seeing a shadow passing through their gardens or a silhouette flipping the latch on a fence. Those boys would rather the spirit of Joseph Carl wander the streets than Juna Crowley.
Monday mornings are the busiest days at the café. It’s the day Mrs. May makes her cinnamon rolls. When she was younger, she made them every day, and then three times a week, and now only on Mondays because she needs the energy garnered after a day conversing with her Lord to find the will. Folks love those rolls so much a few took on trying to add a service on Wednesdays, figuring Mrs. May would add a day of cinnamon roll baking if she had a second day of conversing.
Once inside the café, Caroline points at two counter seats, and as she weaves between the tables, all of them filled with folks sipping coffee and taking small bites so their rolls last longer, she sashays this way and that. When Mama first mentioned the café, Caroline changed into her second-favorite dress, a blue one this time, and tied up her hair with a matching satin ribbon, all of it because she is hoping to see Jacob Riddle.
But as lovely as Caroline looks, her skirt twirling like Mama’s had twirled that morning in the living room, folks aren’t looking at Caroline. They’re looking at Annie. A few stare at her over coffee cups poised at their lips. A few others tear off a piece of roll and stare down on it as if it were suddenly cursed by Annie’s appearance. The buzz of people talking falters, stops altogether. At the counter, Caroline sits, and once Annie has done the same, the conversation starts up again. Forks grind against plates. Napkins are given a good shake, laid across laps. When Annie was younger, too young to realize Aunt Juna was her real mama, she would tell Daddy and Mama she thought folks were scared of her because her eyes were black. No one else had eyes black as Annie’s. Mama said it was Annie’s imagination and that sometimes we all have a way of making trouble for ourselves when really there is no trouble to be had.
“I think Jacob will be the one Sheriff Fulkerson sends to fill in the hole,” Caroline whispers as Mrs. May sets two rolls and two glasses of milk in front of them. “He’ll be so surprised to see me.”
On those nights Caroline is allowed to visit with Jacob Riddle, either in the living room or on a walk that can last no longer than fifteen minutes, she crawls into bed and whispers to Annie about the things she won’t dare tell even Mama.
Caroline will marry Jacob Riddle one day, she’s certain of it. And not because of what she saw down in some well. That was silliness, wasn’t it? She’ll marry him because she can listen to him talk about nothing at all and still she wants to hear more. She loves the smell of him, even when it’s not such a pleasant smell, because she imagines one day she’ll wash and dry his clothes and then he’ll smell better. He does the wash himself now, and what does a man know about doing laundry?
And he likes to listen to her too, even when she talks about wanting a yellow kitchen one day, not because Mama’s kitchen is yellow but because it’s a bright, happy color and what better way to spend most of your day than with a bright and happy color. Then there was a kiss. Not just one. She won’t tell how many, but there were at least three. The first was sweet, their lips barely touching, like he wasn’t quite sure he should do it. The next time, Jacob’s lips opened ever so slightly, and his tongue— Well, she couldn’t say any more about that. There were at least three kisses because the third time it went on and on and his hands moved down her back, and she liked the way it felt when she pushed herself up against him, but he pulled away. Suddenly, almost pushed her away. He said it couldn’t go no further, though Caroline wished it would have. She didn’t know what more might come next, but she didn’t care. She wanted it. She wanted it all. And she wanted to marry Jacob Riddle the second Daddy said she was old enough.
Keeping her head down, but letting her eyes slip from side to side, Annie doesn’t answer when Caroline asks if Annie thinks it too—that Jacob will do the filling in. The something in the air, the spark, the crackle, has followed Annie all the way to this café, and she knows a thing is coming before it has come, or maybe she hears a familiar voice, and that is what warns her. Either way, it’s coming.
“Annie?”
It’s Lizzy Morris. Lizzy Morris with a shiny yellow ponytail tied off at the top of her head. Lizzy Morris wearing a pink dress because she isn’t a head taller than every other girl but the exact height a girl should be, so pink looks perfectly lovely on her and not ridiculous as it would on a girl Annie’s height. Not ridiculous as it would on Annie. And Lizzy has small hands and little feet and is wearing rose-colored lipstick because she had her day of ascension almost a year ago, though Annie knows she is still waiting for that first kiss from Ryce Fulkerson.