Stolen Lives

  STOLEN LIVES

  By

  Joy Redmond

  Review

  Terri Baumbach

  Want to read a powerful book by an emerging author? I have read all of Joy's books and have greatly enjoyed each of them. This book takes us into the life of Ali, a headstrong little girl, who must live with her ‘straight and narrow’ aunt after disaster hits her life. This book is in turns, funny, bittersweet, piercing, and in the end, very satisfying. A must read!

  Books by Joy Redmond

  Give me Wings

  The Dreamer

  Anna’s Visions

  Contact:

  authorjoyredmond@aol.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Note:

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.

  Joy Redmond ©2013

  ISBN-10: 1492102911

  ISBN-13: 9781492102915

  Dedication

  To my three children: Cathye, Scott and Michelle. They are my heart and soul.

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to Laura Shinn for the print cover.

  Chapter One

  Ali sat in the wingback rocking chair that seemed large enough to swallow her. She could hear Jane making a lot of noise in the kitchen. Ali figured Jane was hunting for a bottle. She glanced to her right and saw a pint of whiskey sitting at the base of the tall ashtray stand, which was filled to overflowing with cigarette butts. She pinched her nose and pushed the chair faster, hoping to blow the horrible stink away.

  A few moments later, she heard Jane call, “Okay, Ali, you can come in the kitchen now.”

  She jumped out of the chair and hurried into the small kitchen. As she walked through the doorway, she drew in a deep breath and slapped her cheeks as she saw a cake in the middle of the table, decorated with white-and-pink icing and brightly glowing candles.

  “Well, don’t just stand there,” Jane said, her eyes shining. “Blow out the candles and make a wish.”

  Ali ran across the room and climbed into a chair. “Is today my birthday?”

  “Of course, silly,” Jane replied with a broad smile. “Now make a wish and then blow hard!” Ali rested her elbows on the table and blew as hard as she could. Jane clapped her hands and said, “You got them all! Now your wish will come true. What did you wish for?”

  “Oh, no! I forgot to make a wish,” Ali said with a sigh.

  “Well, that’s okay. Wishes don’t ever come true anyway—at least not for me,” Jane said with a wave of her hand. “Can you count your candles?”

  Ali pointed her index finger at each candle as she began to count, “One, two, three—”

  When Ali paused, Jane prompted, “Four, five, six!”

  “I’m six years old?” Ali asked. “That means I’m a big girl now, right?”

  “You sure are!” Jane said with a smile. “You were born May the twelfth, nineteen-fifty-three.”

  The date meant nothing to Ali, as she ran a finger around the edge of the cake, and then licked off the icing. Jane laughed and did the same.

  “I made the cake myself,” Jane said proudly. “I found an old cake decorator and those pink things you see on the top are supposed to be roses. I know they don’t exactly look like roses—but what the heck.”

  “I think it’s beautiful, Jane!” Ali said, pulling out the candles one by one and licking the icing off the bottoms.

  Jane smiled wistfully and said, “Well, it’s not like anybody else is gonna see it. I couldn’t see any use in having a party for you. Toots is the only person you play with, and, well, she can’t afford a present anyway, so why invite her?”

  “Yeah, why invite her?” Ali agreed.

  She knew better than to disagree with Jane. If she did, Jane might go into a rage and call her an ungrateful little bastard. Ali didn’t know what a bastard was, but the way Jane always said it, it didn’t sound very nice.

  Jane smiled again and said, “I’ll get some plates—if I can find any clean ones.” Just as Jane was finally bringing two plates to the table, she cocked her head and said, “Do you hear something?”

  Ali listened closely, and then said, “Yeah, I hear it, too. What is it?”

  Jane looked around the room and said, “It sounds like it’s coming from that box over there in the corner. Maybe you need to check it out.”

  Ali jumped down from the chair and hurried over to the box. She lifted the lid and gasped as she pulled out a white kitten.

  She held it to her chest and said, “Oh, my goodness, Jane! Where did you get it?”

  Jane laughed and replied, “I stole it from old man Jones. The way I see it, now he has one less kitten to worry about finding a home for. I did him and you a big favor.”

  Ali stroked the kitten’s head and walked back over to the table. “I’m gonna name it Miss Puss.”

  Jane smiled as she lifted the kitten’s tail, then laughed and said, “I think you’d better call it Mr. Puss.”

  “Okay, Mr. Puss then,” Ali said with a happy smile.

  “If you wanna keep him, you have to make sure he doesn’t pee or poop in the house,” Jane warned. “If I step in any of his doings, I’ll staple his poop-hole shut! You’ll have to fix him a doings box.”

  “I’ll do it right away,” Ali promised.

  “Well, let’s eat a piece of cake first. Then you can fix it,” Jane said as she cut two pieces of cake and placed them on the plates. “I don’t have any ice cream, but I hope you like the cake.”

  Ali took her seat, placed Mr. Puss in her lap, and forked a big bite into her mouth. “Oh my, Jane. This is delicious. We don’t need ice cream. I love chocolate cake. Thanks.”

  Jane took a big bite. “It is good, if I do say so myself. Happy birthday, little girl.”

  Ali ate her piece as quickly as she could, anxious to fix a doings-box for Mr. Puss, fearing he would have to go before she had it made and Jane would staple him shut.

  She picked up the box lid and hurried outside, where she filled it with dirt. Then she went back inside and put the lid in the corner of the kitchen. Jane had already gone back out into the front room, where Ali found her sitting in the wingback rocker, starting on the pint.

  “Can I take Mr. Puss over to see Toots?”

  “Yeah, I reckon so, but you’d better be back before dark. If I have to come looking for you, you know I’ll bring a switch.”

  “I’ll be back before dark,” Ali said. “I hope Toots isn’t mean to me because I’ve got a kitten and she doesn’t. If she pushes me down, can I push her back?”

  Jane took a big swig from the pint and said, “Anybody with a name like Toots needs a good pushing now and then, if you ask me.” Then she tipped the bottle again and added, “Do you know why they call her Toots?”

  “Because that’s her name,” Ali replied, furrowing her brow.

  “Nah, it’s just a nickname. Her mom calls her that because she farts all the time!” Jane said, throwing her head back and laughing as if it was the funniest thing she’d ever said.

  Ali smiled, but she didn’t think it was very funny. “Can I go now?” she asked as she shifted on her feet.

  “Hold on there, missy. Before you go, I need to tell you something, and it ain’t gonna be easy, so you hold your tongue till I’m done, you hear me?”

  “Okay,” Ali replied meekly.

  “When I put you in
school this fall, I’ll have to show them your birth certificate, and well, the teachers will know—and pretty soon everybody will be wagging their tongues, so I want you to hear it from me first.”

  As Jane took another swig, Ali asked, “Know what?”

  Jane wiped her mouth with her sleeve and said, “That I’m your mama.”

  “My mama?” Ali said in disbelief, wondering if Jane was drunk and just saying that to be silly—or mean.

  “Yes, I’m your mama,” she repeated. “So from now on, you can call me Mama Jane.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I told you, but now I’m telling you that I lied,” Jane interrupted. “My best friend, Polly, wasn’t your mother, she and her husband didn’t die in a car wreck, and I didn’t kidnap you from mean grandparents who were gonna put you in an orphanage. The truth is, I left Arkansas and moved back to Tennessee because Polly got married and I didn’t have any other place to go. I’ve lived in Morrisville all my life—except for seven months.”

  “Then who’s my daddy?” Ali asked carefully, trying not to set Jane off.

  Jane’s eyes narrowed, making Ali instinctively take a step back. “I don’t know who your daddy is!”

  With uncharacteristic boldness, Ali asked, “How come you don’t know?”

  Banging her fist on the chair arm, Jane replied fiercely, “Well, maybe I do know who your daddy is, but he’s dead now, so it don’t matter!”

  Not knowing what was going to happen next, Ali stood frozen in place as Jane took another long swig. Then Jane looked at Ali for a long moment and added, “Do you wanna know why I call you Ali?”

  “Because that’s my name,” Ali said tentatively.

  “Okay, Miss Smart Ass. That’s your name alright, but do you wanna know why I named you Ali?” Ali didn’t respond. “Because I got pregnant with you in the back seat of an old Chevy that was parked in an alley. The spelling is different—but you can’t spell anyway, so you don’t see the humor of it, so never mind

  Ali said nothing as she turned toward the door. After all the other lies Jane had told her over the years, she figured she was lying about her daddy being dead, but she knew it would be better to wait until later to ask for more information. Jane could be mean when she was drunk.

  Holding Mr. Puss in her arms, Ali’s imagination was running wild. She conjured images of a handsome stranger knocking on the front door and announcing that he was her daddy. He’d be rich and would take her shopping for clothes and shoes and would hug and kiss her until she giggled.

  As Ali made her way toward the door, Jane yelled, “Hold on, girl. I’ve got more to tell you. Your grandma and grandpa are coming to see you tomorrow. I wrote them a letter and told them I’d have you waiting on the front porch by eight o’clock.”

  For a second, Ali couldn’t seem to breathe. She turned around and asked, “Are they gonna be mean to me?”

  “No, silly, they don’t even know you. I haven’t seen or spoken to my parents since you were born. I wrote and asked if they wanted to see you, and they wrote back and said they did, so I wrote back and said they could.”

  Ali could feel her heart pounding as she pictured herself on the porch, watching her grandparents drive up in a fancy car. Then they’d take her away, where she’d live in a nice house—and would never again have to live in a place where whiskey bottles were strewn around nearly every room.

  “Are they coming from Arkansas?” Ali asked.

  “They don’t live in Arkansas. They only live about twenty miles from us,” Jane said with a laugh. “They live way out in the country.”

  Although she didn’t say anything, Ali hated Jane at that moment. Nothing but lies had ever come out of her mouth.

  As if she knew what Ali was thinking, Jane said in a low voice, “Don’t you be judging me, girl. You don’t know what my life has been like.”

  Ali looked up at her mother and saw a tear sliding down her cheek. “Do you have anything else to tell me?”

  “Nah. Go on now,” Jane said, waving her hand to shoo Ali away.

  Ali hurried down the street, bounded onto Toots’ porch and pounded on the door, but no one was home. Sadly, Ali turned around and headed back toward her house. When she walked into the kitchen, she found Jane taking a sponge bath, her good dress hanging on the back of a chair and a bottle of perfume sitting on the table. That meant she was expecting a man caller.

  Many nights over the years, Ali had been awakened by strange sounds. She would creep across the floor, peek through a crack in the middle of her bedroom door, and watch Jane and a man caller on the bed in the front room. The old bedsprings would squeak and Jane would moan and say dirty words, but Ali could never be sure whether they were fighting or having fun.

  That night Ali didn’t mind being sent to her room early. After all, she had Mr. Puss to snuggle with. Later, when the bedsprings started squeaking, Mr. Puss purred loudly, as if trying to drown out the sound. Ali peacefully slept through the night.

  The next morning, Ali got out of bed, dressed quickly, and was brushing her hair when Jane walked into the bedroom. “You look real pretty, Ali. Now go out on the porch and wait for Ma and Pa. They’re always on time and I don’t want them to drive off if they don’t see you.”

  Ali headed toward the front door, turned the doorknob and said, “Ain’t you gonna wait with me and say hi to them?”

  “No, honey. They’re coming to see you, not me,” Jane said, pushing Ali outside and quickly shutting the door.

  Just as Ali stepped out onto the porch, she saw an old station wagon pull up to the curb. A woman climbed out of the passenger side and started walking up the sidewalk. She was wearing a long-sleeved dress that came to rest at the top of her ankles. She wore a pair of black high-top shoes and her grey hair was stuffed under a straw bonnet.

  The woman walked up the steps, smiled, and said, “Are you Ali?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ali said politely.

  The woman held her arms out and said, “Well, Ali, I’m your grandma.”

  She lightly hugged Ali and gave her a tiny pat on the back. Ali didn’t like the feel of Grandma’s bony cold fingers on her, and though she stiffened, she managed to say, “Hi, Grandma.”

  “Are you ready to go?” Grandma asked with a tight smile.

  A part of Ali wanted to run back inside, grab Mr. Puss, and hide under the bed. Instead, she took the woman’s outstretched hand and walked toward the car. Grandma opened the passenger door and Ali slid across the seat and sat next to a man behind the steering wheel.

  “Hi, Ali,” the man said with a pleasant smile.

  Ali looked up at him and replied, “Hi. Are you my grandpa?”

  He smiled again and said, “Yes, I am, and it’s very nice to meet you.”

  As Grandpa pulled the car away from the curb, Ali saw that he was dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, and he wore suspenders instead of a belt. He also was wearing a large straw hat.

  Ali was quiet, feeling a little uncomfortable. Grandma and Grandpa didn’t talk either.

  When they got to the main part of town, Grandpa parked the car in front of Woolworth’s. Ali had only been there once. One Saturday, Jane and one of her boyfriends, a man she called Bubba, had taken her there and Bubba had bought her a quarter’s worth of chocolate drops.

  Ali walked between her grandparents as they entered the store. They sat at the soda counter, where Grandma ordered a banana split with two spoons, telling Ali they’d share it. Ali remembered Bubba calling the boy behind the counter a soda jerk, but she didn’t think he was a jerk at all. He seemed very nice and polite.

  As they waited for the banana split, Grandma patted Ali’s leg and said, “Grandpa and I are so thankful that we’ve been allowed to see you again.”

  Ali’s eyes widened as she asked, “You mean you’ve seen me before? When?”

  Grandma drew her lips in a hard line as she said, “We got to see you for a few hours when you were about a month old.” She
paused a moment, then added, “For the past six years, I’ve wished you a happy birthday and I’ve prayed that someday I’d see you again. I’d like to think that Jane finally found a heart and realized she was punishing you for something you had nothing to do with—and that you needed grandparents.”

  As the boy placed the banana split and two spoons in front of them, Ali asked, “How come you haven’t come to see me until today?”

  “You’ll have to ask Jane,” Grandma said sternly. “Eat up before the ice cream melts. I’ll try to help you finish this big thing.”

  Ali took a bite. Then, narrowing her eyes, she said, “Grandma, I think you know why you haven’t seen me in six years, so you might as well tell me.”

  “When the time is right, I’ll tell you all I know, child, but today isn’t the day. The rest will have to come from Jane. I’m sure you’ll get two different stories—so in the end, I guess you’ll have to choose what you want to believe.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Ali said wearily.

  Ali had glanced over at Grandpa a time or two, but he seemed to be in deep thought and a little upset with the conversation. He even acted as if he was losing patience as she and Grandma ate.

  After they finished the banana split, they walked a few blocks down the street, where Grandma said, “I’m going against all I believe in, but I’m going to buy you some store-bought clothes. I could have made you some nice dresses, petticoats, and—” She paused, then stiffened as if someone had rammed a rod down the back of her long dress and added sadly, “But it would have been a waste of time and money because Jane would have burned them.”

  “Why would she burn them?”

  “Never mind. We don’t need to talk about unpleasant things today. I want this day to be special for us.” She looked down at Ali and smiled. “I also don’t want you to be embarrassed if you’re not dressed like the other children. Children can be very cruel. That’s one of the things your mama holds against your grandpa and me.” Ali thought Grandma looked on the verge of tears as she added, “Just one of a thousand things!”