The Night the Lights Went Out Read online

  SUGAR

  Sugar squinted at her reflection in the mirror over the hall table as she carefully applied her lipstick. Until the day her mother decided to stop getting out of bed, Sugar had seen her mama do this at the exact same mirror every time Astrid left the house or someone came to the door. Always humming or singing, even when putting on lipstick. It was Sugar’s earliest recollection of her mama, hearing her beautiful voice singing her to sleep. Her daddy called it singing sad, on account of the sorrowful tunes that she favored. He always said it like an accusation, looking at Mama as if he were expecting an apology.

  The memory stung Sugar like a slap, causing her hand to shake and forcing her to lean against the table. She’d always thought that memories were supposed to fade as she got older. Only the good ones, apparently. The bad ones seemed to grow sharper, a knife blade pressed against her skin, threatening to cut her if she turned to look too closely.

  She closed her eyes for a long moment, thinking she could hear the braying of the mules in the fields and smell the dust from the road churned up by the metal-rimmed wheels of a hay cart. Thought, too, she heard the shattering of breaking glass in a sleeping house and the sound of her mother’s bare feet on the floor. The sharp shout of a name. Echoes of a past that was like a shadow that stayed long after the sun disappeared.

  Sugar’s eyes snapped open, trying to focus on the reflection in front of her. The cotton fields had long since been plowed under, the mules gone long before that. And Astrid had been laid to rest more than sixty years before. Sugar leaned forward, blinking rapidly behind her glasses, peering into the old mirror. The woman who stared back wasn’t her. She never would have allowed her hair to get so white, or her skin so wrinkled. Astrid used to say that Sugar was so strong willed a tornado wouldn’t be able to shift her position on anything. Maybe time was more covert, slowly spooling the years until there was no thread left behind you and all that remained was a stranger’s face in the mirror.

  She glanced down at the plate of brownies she’d placed on the hall table, unsure why she’d made them or for whom. True to her nickname, she’d been born with a sweet tooth the size of Stone Mountain. But besides robbing her of night vision and her once-beautiful gold hair, old age had muted her taste buds, too. It put her out of sorts. It didn’t seem fair how finally when she’d reached the age where she didn’t have to worry about her figure anymore, she’d stopped craving sweets. If she somehow managed to make it to heaven, she’d demand an explanation.

  The inability to sleep was another one of Father Time’s little jokes on the elderly. For years now she’d wake up around three in the morning and would read either her Bible or the latest Harlan Coben novel or whatever thriller she’d found on the New in Print table at the new library in Milton. But the night before, she’d chosen to bake brownies instead. Despite her intentions of having nothing to do with her new tenants, her thoughts never seemed to stray far from the young divorcée and her two children. There was something so familiar about Merilee Dunlap, something sad and haunted about her that had nothing to do with her recent divorce. Most people would miss it when looking at her, but Sugar had lots of experience recognizing the perpetually haunted.

  Now she had three dozen chocolate brownies that she couldn’t taste arranged on a plate with plastic wrap, and, having survived the Great Depression, she would not throw out anything, regardless of how unwanted or useless it appeared to be. She’d seen Merilee’s minivan rumbling down the drive an hour before and figured that they’d had enough time to have already had supper and she wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of being invited to join them. With a heavy sigh, Sugar picked up the plate and stepped outside.

  Her hip hurt as she carefully made her way down the steps and onto the drive that connected the properties. Willa Faye called Sugar’s ailments “visits from Arthur Itis,” but giving it a funny name never seemed to ease the pain. Moving her joints and limbs regularly did seem to help, but the first step almost made Sugar think how much easier it would be to sit in a wheelchair all day, letting other people push her around. Maybe it was because Willa Faye had succumbed to such an existence or maybe it was because Sugar had been raised with four brothers, but she found that she had no desire to be pushed around all day.

  Bright beams shone from the windows of the cottage as Sugar approached, the front lights forming warm puddles of illumination on the porch floorboards—a complete waste of electricity considering it wouldn’t be dark for another hour and a half. The scent of the boxwoods distracted her from thoughts of Merilee’s extravagances. They always reminded her of Tom and the short time they’d had together here, the pungent aroma of the small, shiny leaves like a switch on her memory that never turned off.

  She tried not to think of Tom picking her up and carrying her over this very threshold as she climbed the front steps one at a time, taking a moment to catch her breath before knocking. The main door was open, the screen door allowing in the green scents of a warm summer evening. Not that she was surprised, but there were no smells of supper billowing out of the kitchen. As she lifted her hand to knock, she glanced down and spotted a small toy figurine partly wedged into a crack between floorboards, its sightless face turned up to hers.

  There was something about it that made her pause. Maybe it was the wide unseeing eyes or the careful smile that made her feel sorry for it. It wasn’t until after she’d placed the plate of brownies on a porch chair to free her hands that she realized it reminded her of Merilee. Ignoring the common sense that told her that her knees might get her down there but might not get her back up, she squatted down to reach it.

  She was still crouched on the porch when the front door opened and the little boy, Colin, stood looking at her as if it were the most natural thing in the world to see her there. “I smelled cookies.”

  “They’re brownies. And you can have one if you would please help me up. My knees seem to have forgotten how to stand.”

  Colin got himself on his hands and knees, forming a kind of bench. “Put your hands on my back, and I’ll stand up slowly and you can stand up with me.”

  She did as she was told, not convinced it would work until her legs were straight enough for her to get her feet underneath her and they were both standing. “You’re a very smart boy, Colin. I hope you’re planning on being an engineer when you grow up.”

  He smiled brightly, illuminating a missing-tooth gap in his lower front teeth. “That’s what Mom says, too. But I can’t decide. I’d like to be an ice cream truck driver and eat all the ice cream I want. Or be a funeral guy like my dad’s brother, Uncle Steven. He’s really funny.”

  “Your uncle Steven?”

  “Uh-huh. He’s an unner-taker. He lets Lily and me ride in the long black car sometimes when we visit him and Aunt Shawna, except she’s not supposed to know. He keeps mints and water in the backseat and he says we can have however much we want.”

  Sugar grimaced from the ache in her knees and from Colin’s comment about his uncle. She’d had a lot of experience with undertakers in her ninety-three years and had yet to meet one who was particularly funny or generous. And she could only hope that the long black car Colin referred to was the limousine.

  “Thanks, young man.” She rubbed her knees and forced her back to straighten. She did yoga three times a week at the Prescott Bend Country Club—her lifelong membership part of the deal her brother had made when he sold the property it was built on. She probably wasn’t the best advertisement, but she didn’t care. It was free, so she was determined to use it even if it killed her.

  Colin’s gaze slipped to the toy in her hand. “Is that one of Uncle David’s Lego people? Mom keeps them hidden in her drawer.”

  Sugar refrained from asking him how he knew about them if they were usually hidden. She wasn’t sure how to speak with children, having had very little experience, but Colin didn’t seem to mind. “I just found it here.” She took an expl
oratory step to make sure her knees were functioning and picked up the plate of brownies, planning to give Colin the plate and then leave.

  “My uncle died when he was a little boy. Can I have a brownie now?”

  The door opened again and a frazzled Merilee stood there, framed in the doorway, an orange slant of late-afternoon sun lightening her hair like a halo. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you knock.” She opened the door wider. “Colin, aren’t you supposed to be doing homework?”

  “I was too hungry to concentrate and I smelled brownies. Look what Miss Sugar brought!” He pointed excitedly at the plate. “Could I have one while we wait for the pizza man so I don’t die of starvation?”

  “You’re not going to die of starvation, Colin.” She looked at Sugar, a small flush on her face. “I had a long day at work and I’m still unpacking. Not the most nutritious . . .” She gestured Sugar inside and Sugar allowed herself to be led into the small living room. She had no intention of staying, or really moving in past the front porch, but the boy and his mother were like a strong wind sucking her inside.

  “Pizza’s a vegetable now, ’member, Mom? So we can eat it every day.”

  “That’s enough, Colin. Please go back into the kitchen to finish your homework.”

  “But . . .”

  Merilee speared him with a look that made him turn around and head back toward the kitchen, his feet dragging against the floor.

  Sugar remembered not to purse her lips, recalling her mother telling her it would give her wrinkles and make her look like a pawpaw that had been left on the ground too long.

  She was still trying to make her excuses to leave when Merilee noticed the toy in her hand. “Where did you find that?”

  “On the front porch.”

  Merilee took it gratefully, squeezing her fingers around it as her eyes blinked rapidly. “I thought I’d lost it.”

  Sugar waited for her to say more, maybe something about her brother. A long time ago, she would have pressed for more, carefully prodding like a doctor on a sore spot in the polite way she’d seen the women in her family do for almost a century. It was the Southern way, after all. But that had been before Sugar knew what it was like to be on the other end of the questions.

  “The brownies smell delicious. I’m guessing Colin smelled them through the plastic wrap and the screen door. I swear that boy was a bloodhound in a previous life.”

  Sugar smiled politely, watching as the younger woman slid the toy into the pocket of her skirt, which seemed about a size too large. As if to avoid further questions, Merilee pressed on. “I have to bring dessert to a children’s party this weekend. I know nothing more than the basics of cooking, but if the recipe’s easy enough, could I borrow it? I was going to do a search on the Internet, but we seem to be having a problem getting a connection. Your friend Wade is supposed to come over later. I hope it’s soon, because I’m afraid Lily might have a heart attack from the stress of not having Wi-Fi.”

  When Sugar didn’t say anything, Merilee explained, “Wi-Fi is what we need to connect to the Internet.”

  “I’ve heard of it,” Sugar said, allowing herself to be led back to the kitchen, where Colin sat at one end of the table with a textbook in front of him and Lily sat in front of a large laptop with her head in her hands. Sugar placed the plate of brownies on the table. “I’m sure Wade will have you fixed up in no time. He can do anything—except convince me to sell this property.” She wasn’t sure why she’d said that other than the fact that she loved Wade as much as she was capable of loving someone. She bragged on him as if he were her own flesh and blood.

  Lily looked up at her with hopeful eyes, the crease between her brows not smoothing out completely. “Really? Because if I don’t check in online, I’ll get part of my grade taken off.”

  “Lily, it won’t be the end of the world,” said her mother. “I’m sure your teacher would understand. Or why don’t you call that girl from your class—Bailey Blackford? Her mother is the class mom and I have her home number on the form I stuck to the fridge.”

  The crease deepened. “That’s their landline. I don’t have Bailey’s cell number.”

  Sugar met Merilee’s equally confused gaze for a moment before Merilee turned back to her daughter. “But I’ll bet that whoever answers the phone will be able to give it to Bailey.”

  A look of hope crossed the girl’s face as she slid back her chair before snatching a paper from the refrigerator door and racing from the room.

  Merilee smiled tiredly. “Would you like to stay for pizza?”

  Sugar started to purse her lips but stopped. “No, thank you. I’ve already eaten.” Before she could close her mouth again, she said, “I’ve got more tomatoes and okra in my garden than I can eat. If you’d like some, I could bring some over.”

  “That’s really nice of you—thanks. The tomatoes would be great for the kids’ sandwiches and my salads, but I have no idea what to do with the okra.”

  This time Sugar’s lips pursed before she realized it. Pizza as a vegetable. Really! “Why don’t I come by Friday after you get home and we’ll make cookies together—I’ve got a recipe that’s so easy even you could make them—and I’ll show you how to prepare okra. I’ll bring some of my tomato sandwiches, too. I make them with white Wonder Bread, Duke’s mayonnaise, and my tomatoes. Can’t be anything life shortening with that since I’ve been eating at least one a day since I was a baby. If you tell me you’re going to put my tomatoes on wheat bread, you can’t have any.”

  “Did you have electricity way back then?” Colin asked, swinging his legs under the table, brownie crumbs clinging to his chin from a brownie she didn’t remember Merilee giving him permission to eat.

  Merilee still seemed to be struggling for words after Sugar’s brown bread ultimatum. “Colin!” she finally managed.

  “Yes,” Sugar said, “we had electricity. And running water, even. Not too common in a rural farmhouse in Georgia, because none of my friends had an indoor bathroom. But my mama was from Savannah and had been raised in a nice house in town and had grown up with those things. So my daddy worked extra hard to give her every convenience.”

  She felt out of breath, as if the memories of her mother had wrapped their fingers around her neck and were squeezing slowly. She glanced out the rear window toward the woods, half expecting to see the ghosts that were never far from her.

  The sound of a car outside bolted Colin out of his chair. “Finally!” he shouted through a spray of brownie crumbs. “I was getting ready to pass out from starvation.”

  “Colin! Don’t open the door to a stranger . . .”

  Merilee’s words trailed off at the sound of the screen door being opened and then the timbre of a familiar voice. Sugar followed Colin to the front door, recognizing the tall, broad-shouldered form of Willa Faye’s grandson, Wade Kimball. “I think this is for you,” he said to Colin, holding out a large square box that smelled of garlic and red sauce.

  Colin let out a whoop, then took the box before running back into the kitchen. The clomping on the bare wood drew attention to the fact that he was wearing his shoes. Inside the house. Sugar pressed her lips together, this time on purpose, so she wouldn’t say something she might regret.

  “Sugar,” Wade said, giving her a tight bear hug only because he knew she didn’t like them. And only because he was the one person in the world who could get away with it.

  “Robbing old ladies of their homes and land isn’t profitable enough, so you’re reduced to delivering pizzas now?” she asked, her voice muffled against his shirt.

  She heard his laugh rumbling in his chest and she had to hide her smile. Even as a baby he’d had the deep, throaty laughter that drew people to him like flies to a cow, in a seemingly universal desire to be enveloped in the warmth that surrounded him.

  “Good to see you, too, Sugar. Butter still not melting in your mo
uth, huh?”

  She pushed him away, pretending to be annoyed.

  “I passed the delivery boy driving back and forth on the road looking for the driveway and decided to put him out of his misery.” His gaze rested on Merilee. “I’m assuming it was for you? If not, I’ve got some apologizing to do to the family whose dinner I waylaid.”

  “No—it’s for us. Thank you. But how much do I owe you?”

  He let his arm slide from Sugar’s shoulders to wave his hand in dismissal. “Just consider it a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ gift—except this one doesn’t come with a dish you need to clean and return.” With an outstretched hand, he stepped forward. “Wade Kimball—I believe we spoke on the phone. I’m here to check on your router.”

  Merilee shook his hand without smiling or blushing or doing any of those things women usually did when meeting Wade for the first time. He must have noticed it, too, because he seemed to falter with his next words. But then he stopped trying and just looked at her, tilting his head. “Have we met before?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “Maybe you’ve seen me at the grocery store or something. I’ve lived in Sweet Apple for about six years.”

  He thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Where are you from originally?”

  Merilee’s response took so long, Sugar was pretty sure wild horses couldn’t pull it out of her. Finally, she said, “Sandersville—in south Georgia.”

  He straightened as a smile stretched over his face. “Ah. That must be it. I lived in Augusta for about ten years right out of college, working for a developer. Good work buddy of mine had grandparents in Sandersville and we used to visit them occasionally to help with repairs and maintenance. Nice couple—you probably knew them since it’s a really small town. I’m trying to think of their name . . .” His eyes squinted in concentration.

  “Lily!” Merilee called out loudly—and unnecessarily, seeing as how the girl had walked into the room while Wade was speaking and stood next to her mother. “Mr. Kimball is here to fix the router.”