I cringed. It wasn’t a tale, and I didn’t know what to say to Daddy about that. Later I could tell him about Mama and the letters.
He stuffed everything back in her bag, including the pill bottle. “One thing about Vadine. She was no lightweight. My guess is as soon as I left last night, she dragged you out there, maybe wrapped in the quilt. There’s an awful mess on the back porch, mud everywhere, trailing all through the house. Then she made that rigging in the garage. No doubt she intended to blame you, make it look like you’d gone nuts or something. Goldie said she found Scarlett tied up in the doghouse. Not even your pooch could help you.” He buried his head in his hands. “That blasted woman. I’ll take care of everything, Sis. You can bet she won’t be messing with you anymore.”
Cly had an anxious look on his face. “Uh… I need to get going. Doob said church starts at eleven.”
Daddy looked sideways at him.
Cly cleared his throat. “Somebody named Dunkin’ Don’s doing a revival.”
“He used to be a pro-basketball player, Daddy.” I motioned Cly to the door. “Go. You don’t want to miss that. And say a prayer for Mrs. Gray and Tuwana’s family.”
“I already did. For you too.” His face pinked up as he stared at the floor.
“Good for you.” Daddy clapped Cly on the shoulder. “Best if we all did more praying.” He held the door for Cly. “Sis, I need to take a nap if I’m gonna be worth my salt at the plant this evening. I’ll call and check on Aunt Vadine while you take a bath. I’ll make sure they keep her in the hospital until I can make some arrangements.” I could tell he meant business.
From head to toe, I felt like I’d been run over. In a way I had. I been dragged from my bed to the garage, not to mention being hit in the head and having Aunt Vadine land on top of me. I poured a double dose of lilac bubble bath into the bathtub and soaked until my skin wrinkled. When I came out, Daddy snored from his bed. I slipped out and ran over to Tuwana’s.
“It’s not fair.” Tuwana’s face had streaks running down. “I just find out I have a grandpa living two streets over. And now… now he’s gone.”
“I’m sorry. We’re all going to miss him.” I pushed my toe against the dead grass in front of the glider, squeaking it back and forth. “Daddy said Slim wouldn’t quit talking about you and Tara and Tommie Sue. He loved you, you know.”
“I guess. Tell me again what happened with your aunt. I heard she went berserk and tried to hang you from the rafters.”
I smiled. “Not exactly. But berserk about sums it up. At least she didn’t get to make her move on Daddy.”
“What will you do now? You won’t have Aunt Vadine to complain about. I won’t be avoiding Slim all the time….” Her eyes filled with tears, and we grabbed hold of each other.
I sniffed. “Guess you’re just stuck with me.” We scritched back and forth in the glider and let the sun warm our faces. Irene Flanagan marched up the sidewalk carrying a cake. I knew it was coconut. I hoped Alice remembered to number the dishes and write down what everyone brought.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” Tuwana jumped up. “Daddy’s coming home tomorrow. He’ll be here for Slim’s funeral on Wednesday.”
* * *
After Daddy went to work that afternoon, I stuffed all of Aunt Vadine’s things in her suitcases and lined them up by the door. I folded up the army cot and took the feather bed topper to Scarlett’s doghouse. She nosed around and curled right up on it. I looked toward the garage. Would the hatbox still be there? I took a deep breath and walked slowly toward it. I flipped the latch and opened the door. I closed my eyes and stepped inside, squinting to make sure nothing swung from the rafters. So far, so good. The box sat on top of the workbench. I hurried over and lifted the lid and found the bundle of letters and the thin book I’d seen earlier—was it only that morning? The side of the box had a dent where I’d shoved it against Aunt Vadine’s knee, but otherwise it looked okay. I carried it back to the house.
On the couch I sifted through the letters first. Most of them had our address and were from Grandma Grace. One, though, had a thin yellowed envelope with an Atlanta, Georgia, postmark. I removed the single sheet of paper.
My dearest Rita,
I’m grieved by the loss of your aunt Faith. She was a lovely woman whom I had the pleasure of knowing. I enjoyed our visit on the bus and pray that all is well with you. Please give my regards to your mother.
Your friend,
Margaret Mitchell
The name rang a bell. Margaret Mitchell. The Margaret Mitchell? I turned the envelope over and read the postmark again. Atlanta, Georgia. Shivers went through me. Mama had met the woman who wrote Gone with the Wind. No wonder she loved the book so much. But who was Aunt Faith?
I grabbed the slim book, looking for a clue. Mama’s journal. On the third page she wrote about taking the train to Atlanta to see Grandma Grace’s twin sister in the hospital. On the city bus, Mama and Grandma rode next to Margaret Mitchell, who sat with people at the hospital. She knew Grandma’s sister, Faith. My heart raced as I read what Mama wrote about her trip and ended with a note that said, “Vadine couldn’t go with us. She hasn’t recovered from losing the baby, nor her injuries from that awful beating she took from Wayne Cox. I am, quite frankly, worried sick about Vadine.”
Something pierced my heart. I had a boy once. Stillborn. My marriage didn’t work out. Aunt Vadine’s face, the empty look in her eyes, rushed into my mind. I shuddered and thought about her loss, the awful way her life had turned out. And Mama’s. She’d lost baby Sylvia. And I had lost Mama.
Page after page, I devoured Mama’s words, the loopy way she ended her letters, the tiny circles she made to dot the i’s in my name. Each page drew me to the next one until at last I had read her entire journal. I went back and reread what she wrote on June 5, 1950.
In all my born days, I would have never dreamed I could love another human being the way I love Sammie. Every day she asks a million questions and pesters me till I’m blue in the face. Already, she knows how to write the entire alphabet. Today she wrote “I love Mama” in perfect penmanship. She’s really something for a four-year-old.
I closed the book and hugged it to my chest. Mama loved me. She always had. And now I had it in her own words. Another thought came. Mama had kept her favorite memories in this hatbox. Her journal. Special letters. Sylvia’s crocheted bonnet. The letters I had written her. The empty place inside me grew warm with memories of Mama. The two of us chasing dragonflies at Red River. Her laugh when we pored over the Montgomery Ward catalog picking out my school clothes. The way her hair swirled in the breeze riding in the Edsel. She had kept my letters.
I went back to the day she died, the day that I might never understand completely. She must have brought her memory box into the garage and put it on the shelf in the corner. Maybe she thought of me and wanted to tell me somehow she loved me. As sure as my name is Sammie Tucker, I knew she must have pulled her New Testament and the leather case with her pearls out of the hatbox and run back into the house and put them where she knew I would find them. Whether she remembered the words in her testament, Seek and ye shall find, I don’t know. Only that somehow those words brought me to today. She did love me. A fire burned in the deepest pit of my stomach. Mama loved me!
From my purse, I took her New Testament. I put it in the hatbox along with her journal and letters. The tiny scrap of green material had wedged into a torn corner of the paper lining. I lifted it out and rubbed it between my fingers. Then I added the sliver of lilac soap I had saved and her hairbrush. The glove filled with dirt from Mama’s grave stayed in my purse. I had another idea for it. Only the pearls were missing, and Tuwana would have to help me with that.
It didn’t come as a big surprise to find out from Mr. Howard that Aunt Vadine had not called him about me being on the paper. What did surprise me was that Daddy had called him.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with your aunt. Your father told me she would be m
oving on.” He cleared his throat. “Sammie, not many students go through what you have and come out on top. I’m glad I kept my eye on you. And I’m sure Mrs. Gray would love to welcome you back on the school paper.”
I floated through the rest of the day. That night I got out my typewriter and rolled a sheet of paper into it. Then, beginning with the day Mama swallowed the pills, I started writing our story.
George, Norm, Cly, and Daddy carried Slim’s casket from the Hilltop Church to the waiting hearse. From there, cars with their headlights burning made a long snake to the cemetery. Brother Henry read from the Psalms and prayed. After the amen, I stepped to the casket and broke a rose from the arrangement. One for me and then three more that I gave to Tuwana and her sisters.
Daddy and I stood to the side while people shook hands and whispered. After a while Daddy nodded his head in the general direction of Mama’s grave. Hand in hand, we walked, not saying anything. A simple stone jutted from the ground where Mama was buried. Marguerite Samuels Tucker was chiseled in thick letters above the dates of her birth and death, and below that the words, Beloved wife and mother. Tears ran down my face as Daddy squeezed my hand. He sniffled a few times too. Neither of us was in a hurry to leave.
The cemetery stood empty then, except for Daddy and me. A hawk swooped and picked up a mouse near the wire fence a few rows over from where Mama rested. A breeze brought the scent of sage, but up above the sky was a blinding blue, the same color as Mama’s eyes.
Daddy took in a deep breath and stepped back from the stone. A toothpick bobbled up and down between his lips. I was glad he’d given up smoking again. He cocked his head one way and then another.
“I’ve been thinking we ought to plant a lilac bush or two here for Mama. What do you think, Sis?”
“Mama would love that.” I smiled up at Daddy. I opened my purse and pulled out a silt-filled glove, unwound the rubber band, and let the dirt drift like brown snow onto the top of Mama’s grave.
“You okay?”
“I will be. I just keep having a weird thought.”
“What’s that?” Daddy put his arm around me.
“You’ll think I’m crazy, but sometimes I think about Aunt Vadine. Even though she lied about talking to Mr. Howard and made my life miserable, I don’t hate her for what she did.”
“That’s good. She’s had a tough life—most of it her own doing.”
“Do you think she’ll be all right?”
“Don’t rightly know. All this time, I thought we were doing Vadine a favor, giving her a place to stay until her life straightened out. I called that fella Bobby in Midland. Seems she lied about him too. Got herself in a spot of trouble it sounds like.”
“Was he her boyfriend?”
“No way of knowing. He told me she was the one who took the money from the truck stop, and he talked her boss out of pressing charges by selling all her furniture to pay him back.”
“So we won’t be getting a truckload of her stuff like she wanted?”
“No. Could be that was another thing that set her off. All I know is we gotta pick up the pieces and get on with our lives, Sis.”
“I’m ready. I love you, Daddy.”
He thumped me on the arm and said, “I love you too.”
[ FORTY-ONE ]
ON FRIDAY NIGHT, Daddy took Mrs. Gray and me to the Dairy Cream for a hamburger.
Mrs. Gray nibbled at her burger. “The plant superintendent says we can take our time with Slim’s things. I think it’s best to get it over with though. Next weekend Alice and I will start packing everything up.”
“I’ll be glad to help, Mrs. Gray.” I dipped my French fry in a dollop of ketchup.
“Count me in,” Daddy said.
“Please.” Mrs. Gray looked sideways at me, the bun on top of her head slightly off center. “I want you to call me Olivia. And I want to thank you both for all you’ve done, what you meant to Slim….” Between her fingers, she turned the paper cup, glistening with the sweat cups have in the heat. Around and around.
Olivia invited us into the house when we took her home, but Daddy wanted to sit on her porch, where a slatted swing hung on thick chains. They sat beside each other, swinging gently like a couple of old grannies. Daddy fished in his pocket for his knife and began whittling on a tree limb he’d picked up nearby.
“I didn’t know you whittled,” Olivia said like it was the most interesting thing since the invention of ice cream.
“Oh yeah, I’m a whittler from way back.” Thin slivers of wood curled at the blade of his knife.
“He whittles, all right. He just hasn’t figured out how to make anything.” I rolled my eyes at him.
“I’ll have you know this is a very handy item I’m working on right now. You’ll see.” He continued shaving the stick while I wrapped my arms around my knees and gazed off into the heavens. The Milky Way seemed close enough to touch, hugging us somehow. A firefly or two lit up the bushes near the porch, and I was trying to guess where they would pop up next when Daddy announced he’d finished his project.
“It looks remarkably like a stick, Daddy. How clever.”
“This, dear ladies, is not just a stick; it is a hair stick.” He reached up and poked it through the wad of hair on top of Olivia’s head.
We all laughed until the moon smiled through the trees and Daddy said we ought to be getting back.
The next day I called Tuwana and asked her to meet me in the middle of camp.
The bounce in her step had come back. And her attitude. “What’s going on? Why all the mystery?”
“Unfinished business.” I started toward the playground, gripping the paper sack I’d brought along.
When we came to the cedar trees, I held back a heavy branch and motioned for Tuwana to enter. I opened the sack and took out an old tablecloth, which I spread on the ground. “Sit down, please.”
We sat cross-legged, and I pulled out Mama’s journal.
Tuwana scrunched her eyebrows together but didn’t move.
“Listen to this.” I turned to a page in the middle.
Tomorrow Joe and I will be married. The pearls Mother gave me look beautiful with my dress. I could just pinch myself I’m so happy. I can only pray someday I’ll have a little girl to pass them on to.
Tuwana studied her fingernails.
I closed the book. “Mama did want me to have her pearls. And thanks to you, they’re safe.” I took out the red-handled serving spoon and a meat fork. “Ready?” I handed Tuwana the fork, and together we scooped the dead needles away and dug until we heard metal scraping the cocoa tin. My heart rose in my throat as I lifted it out. I used the edge of the spoon to pry the top off, pulled out the rolled-up sock, and then held Mama’s pearls in my fingers. I closed my eyes and counted each one. Eighty-four. A fresh breeze kissed my face and the scent of lilacs tickled my nose. Mama. She’s here.
Tuwana smiled, then fastened the pearls around my neck as I held up my hair. I gave her a quick hug. “You were right, you know.”
“How’s that?”
“Everything has turned out fine. Just fine.”
“I said that?”
“Indubitably.” I laughed and helped her up. “Another thing. I’ve started typing everything that happened since last summer. It will probably be a never-ending story, but I think there just might be a chapter about Tuwana becoming a cheerleader. It’s time for you to start practicing, and I’d be glad to help.”
She wrinkled her nose, and together we walked arm in arm back home.
When the Saturday came to clean out Slim’s house, we had more help than we knew what to do with. Mrs. Johnson brought her girls and Mr. Johnson, who could only give advice and moral support. Cly came with Norm and Eva. Daddy and I helped Olivia pull things out so Tuwana’s mother could see them, and then Olivia directed which pile they went into. The furniture was up for grabs, except for Slim’s rocker, which Tuwana’s dad had taken a shine to.
“You know it doesn’t go with our décor
,” Mrs. Johnson said.
“Hell’s bells, woman, a man’s home is his castle. That’ll make a nice throne.” He winked at his girls.
“You’re the king, all right.” She touched him lightly on the cheek, then went into the kitchen and started pulling things from the cupboards.
Slim’s Bible went to Olivia; Norm got twenty years’ worth of The Old Farmer’s Almanac when he said he’d been thinking about taking over Slim’s garden—something he and Cly could do together. We set the Last Supper painting aside to donate to Hilltop Church.
At noon Irene Flanagan brought ham and cheese sandwiches for everyone. And a coconut cake. Goldie dropped off a plate of cookies and hugged me. Doobie and PJ came by to eat a sandwich.
Fritz Brady took two pickup loads of boxes and assorted furniture to the VFW, giving the veterans a boost for next year’s sale. When Mr. Johnson grew tired, Tuwana’s mom drove him and the two younger girls home in the Edsel. Olivia wanted me to have Slim’s walnut desk from the spare bedroom so I’d have a nice place to write. At Olivia’s insistence, Daddy agreed to take Slim’s braided rug, and somehow it just felt right.
“Slim would want you to have this.” Olivia handed Cly the backgammon board with the worn-smooth playing pieces. I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he thanked her.
The rooms echoed now that they were empty. I ached to hear Slim tell us another story or play another game of dominoes. To hear his teakettle whistle on the stove and sniff the steam from a cup of Ovaltine. As I fought back tears, Daddy winked at me and guided me toward the front door.
“Sis, I think we need a break.” He dug in his pocket and handed me a fistful of quarters. “Why don’t you and Tuwana run over to Willy’s and get us all a Coke?”
Chasing Lilacs Page 25
