The Peculiar Miracles of Antoinette Martin: A Novel by Stephanie Knipper Page A

side, trying to loosen the tension in her body. She felt thunder in the sky.
    “She has a right to know how you feel,” her mother said.
    Seth laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “She has a right to know everything about Antoinette.”
    “Touché,” her mother said as she leaned back in her chair.
    “There y’all are.” A tall woman with hollow cheeks approached their table. Her gray hair was clipped short, and her eyelids drooped slightly. MaryBeth Cantwell. Her left hand was behind her back. “With the weather, I was afraid you wouldn’t make it. They said on the radio that a storm’s rolling in.” Her right hand shook slightly as she shielded her eyes and looked across the parking lot. There the sky faded from gray to black.
    “We can use the rain,” Seth said. “The ground’s starting to crack, and it’s only April.” He seemed grateful for MaryBeth’s presence. He tossed the spent cigarette on the ground, then walked back to the table, pausing to kiss the older woman’s cheek before sitting down.
    “I appreciate you coming out to test my new cupcakes before the show, but I don’t want y’all to get stuck here because of me.” A constant tremor shook her right hand, and her head lolled to the right. She leaned down and whispered in Antoinette’s ear. “Don’t tell your Mama—or Seth”—she winked at them—“but I’ve got something special just for you.”
    MaryBeth pulled her left arm from behind her back. She held a small silver platter. On it sat a white cupcake swirled with pale lemon frosting. The little cake was crowned with a candied purple pansy. “I made it special for you. I’m selling them at your mama’s garden show next weekend, so you tell me if it’s good.” She placed the plate on the table.
    Antoinette had overheard her mother talking to Seth and knew MaryBeth was sick. She looked at MaryBeth’s trembling hand and thought the woman must understand what it felt like to be unable to control your body. She wondered what MaryBeth’s song would sound like. Would it be slow and sweet like her mother’s? Or ragged around the edges, like Seth’s?
    The wind picked up, lifting tendrils of Antoinette’s hair. She bounced once and looked sideways at the cupcake. It was lace and sugar, like the snow that covered the farm each winter.
    Eli Cantwell walked out of the bakery. He looked like skin stretched across a skeleton, and when he smiled his lips disappeared. He carried two porcelain saucers. Each one held a cupcake. One cake had pale green icing dusted with coconut shavings. The other had lavender icing topped with thinly sliced strawberries.
    “We didn’t forget about you two,” he said as he set the saucer with the green cupcake in front of Antoinette’s mother. “Tell us what you think. We want to be ready for the garden show.”
    “You’ll be ready before we are,” her mother said. “Two weeks doesn’t seem like nearly enough time.” She peeled the wrapper from her cupcake and took a bite. “It’s delicious.”
    Antoinette loved their yearly garden show. Her mother invited artists from all over Redbud to set up exhibits in the garden. Then she opened the farm to the public. All day people milled through the fields, gazing at the flowers and art. The air was always filled with music that day.
    Thinking about it made her happy. She flapped her hands.
    MaryBeth took the other plate from Eli. She held it in her bad hand, and it shook slightly. “Would you mind helping us haul some tables out to the barn before the show?” she asked Seth. “Eli and I aren’t as young as we used to be.”
    “We’ve got plenty of extra tables at the farm,” Antoinette’s mother said.
    “We’ll set them up for you,” Seth said.
    That was one of the things Antoinette loved about Seth; he was always willing to help.
    “I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” MaryBeth said. She set the plate in front of Seth, and as she did, her hand twitched. The cupcake ended up