The Last Noel

by Michael Malone

  Noni spent a lot of Roland's money on Parker, and gave the rest to AIDS research. The fact that Roland's settlement had paid Parker Jones's substantial medical bills was to Noni one of God's quiet ironies. She had heard Roland on the subject of AIDS victims and convicts and drug addicts and African-Americans, although the accusation that he was a bigot would have surprised him. (His rebuttal would have been, she knew, to point out that his lawyer in Houston was African-American, and that his new wife's brother had married a Mexican.)

  She had seen Roland since their divorce only once, at her mother's very crowded and elaborate funeral. On the church steps after the service, Noni was receiving the condolences of her mother's friends who were telling her that Judy was now reunited with Bud in heaven at last. They told her that Noni was the daughter every mother dreamed of. “Thank you,” Noni said, again and again.

  Judy's cousin Becky Van Buehling (as she was once more calling herself, following the death of her second husband the estate planner), hugged Noni to her still partially exposed bosom and told her that Judy's funeral couldn’t have been more like her. Becky hoped Noni would do her funeral if she ever died, Noni was so good at it.

  Becky, who now had startling white hair, said it was probably for the best that Judy had gone so suddenly—even though it had been weird that she should have drowned in her own pool when she’d been a state champion swimmer as a girl, and even though it had been even weirder that she could have gotten out to the pool in her wheelchair and somehow rolled into it. And even though seventy-two years old was too early to go (Becky sure didn’t want to go anytime soon), still, after all the personal tragedy Judy had suffered and all the years of pain in that wheelchair, death had to be some sort of a blessing.

  As Noni was extracting herself from Becky's fleshy embrace, she saw her ex-husband, who had attended the funeral only because he was in town visiting his father and it had seemed the polite thing to do. Noni said hello. Everything about Roland had gotten thicker, she noticed, his waist, his fingers, his nose, his sarcasm.

  “I don’t think I have anything to say to you,” he replied when she asked how he was.

  “You ‘don’t think’? Gee Roland, don’t you know whether you do or not?”

  With a sneer, Roland had walked away without answering, leaving her standing on the steps with Doctor Jack. “What a jerk,” said Roland's father.

  Stooped and thin, with his bald crown and tufted white ponytail, Doctor Jack looked more and more like a strange old tall heron or crane. He pointed at his son talking to Wade Tilden; they seemed to be admiring Wade's Lexus. “Noni, can you ever forgive me?”

  “For what?”

  “Instead of telling you to save Roland, why didn’t I tell you to save yourself? Some Deliverer, hunh?”

  She rubbed his bony back. “You loved him. I loved him. He just got smaller instead of bigger.”

  “Yeah. Your mom would have admired that funeral, honey.”

  “I guess so. She left instructions in her will and I followed every detail.”

  Doctor Jack laughed. “You know, in the middle of the eulogy I actually thought I heard Judy's voice telling me that I ought to marry Becky Van Buehling. I hear she's roaming loose again.”

  “I’ve got a rule. I don’t give marital advice.”

  “Don’t rub it in.”

  Noni was staring into the grove of trees that separated St. John's from Heaven's Hill. “Jack, how do you think Mom could have fallen into our pool?”

  “What do you mean? Don’t they think she just rolled the wheelchair too close to the edge and fell in? With her paralysis, she couldn’t swim, couldn’t crawl out, and, well…” He sadly shrugged.

  Noni walked Doctor Jack away from the church path where the crowd was clustered. “I mean, I don’t see how she could have even gotten the wheelchair down there, down the stone walk to the pool, by herself. That path's long and it's steep and it's curved. And why’d she go out there at dawn? And take off her nightgown? I mean, does that sound like Mom? I just keep asking myself these things over and over.”

  Jack leaned his wrinkled tan face down to study hers. “What are you saying, Noni? Somebody stripped her and pushed her down those steps and flipped her into the pool? You’re not saying that, are you?”

  “No!” That wasn’t what Noni thought at all; for one thing, who in the world would do such a thing to her mother? And for another, her mother would have screamed and someone would have heard her. Her mother had a very loud scream that had often brought Noni running in the past. “She liked to have me or Dionne push her in her wheelchair down to the swimming pool patio. She liked to sit there and look at the water. I just don’t see how she got there by herself.”

  Jack suggested that maybe she’d asked someone to help her down to the pool. But Noni said she had checked with everyone who worked at Heaven's Hill and no one had taken Mrs. Tilden down to the pool. At ten o’clock that night, Dionne Fairley, Amma's niece, had helped the invalid into her nightgown and into her bed the way she always did, and after watching television, she’d checked on her at midnight and Mrs. Tilden had been asleep. At 7:30 the following morning, when Amma had gone to the cutting garden beside the pool to get some peonies for the breakfast table, she had seen Mrs. Tilden floating in the water, dead, the wheelchair sunk to the bottom of the pool.

  Jack glanced back at the church. “How old is that woman? I saw her sitting in there with you and she looks like she's practically blind.”

  “Amma's ninety-one. Her eyes aren’t very good.”

  “What's she doing schlepping down that walk herself?”

  “She cuts flowers every morning before breakfast. She always has. In fact, usually it's much earlier than that. She said she’d slept late because she wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Well, there's no way somebody in her condition could have gotten Judy down those steps in that wheelchair. But maybe one of those other people could be lying to you. Maybe one of them took her there and left her and felt too guilty to admit it?”

  Noni said that none of the Fairleys or Clays would lie to her. “They’re like family.”

  Jack smiled. “You think families don’t lie?” And he hugged her. “Noni, you’re too good for us. Not to mention, more beautiful than ever. You know, I honestly think you’re the most beautiful woman I ever saw.”

  “Oh Jack, you’re full of it. Becky Van Buehling will never be able to resist.”

  “Are you going to take care of yourself? I don’t like to see you living alone.”

  “I’m not. I was alone when I was living with Roland.”

  “Worse, isn’t it?”

  “Much.”

  Cleaning the graves, Noni heard young voices calling her from the brick path edging the St. John's Cemetery.

  “Ms. Tilden, Ms. Tilden!”

  It was the little Crossmore twins, both music students at Moors Elementary, both scheduled to play in the holiday recital this evening at St. John's.

  “Hi, Madison! Hi, Laurel!” Waving, Noni pulled herself up from where she’d knelt at her parents’ tombstone. She looked at her watch, waiting for the hands to come into focus. With these headaches, sometimes her vision blurred. Ten more minutes and it would be time for the rehearsal. The little girls, both carrying small violin cases and wearing satin baseball jackets over Edwardian-looking dresses, broke away from the woman bringing them to the rehearsal and raced toward Noni. “Ms. Tilden, Ms. Tilden!” They swung their arms about her and spun her into their circle. She hugged them together then let them fly apart. “You two stars ready? Brava, brava. Encore, encore!”

  “There better be an encore.” (For an encore, they would get to play the theme from Star Wars.)

  “There’ll be one, don’t you worry.”

  With a loud world-weary sigh, Madison wiggled her fingers. “We’re practicing and practicing and practicing ’til my Daddy just can’t stand it one more minute!”

  “Well, your Daddy is going to be so proud of you both.”
r />   “I hope,” said Laurel, earnest, worried.

  “Of course he is.”

  “Then we’ll all do the men-you-et, right?” Madison began to pace out the steps, pointing the toe of her red rubber boot.

  “You’ll all do the minuet, and everybody will clap like crazy!” Noni took each child by the hand and danced them forward. “All the ladies will get to dance but me and I’ll be stuck at the old piano bench, boo hoo!” She cried with a comical face until they were laughing.

  “Where's Johnny?” Laurel asked. “Is he in the church?”

  “Not yet. You go ahead and get ready. He’ll be here. He just has to walk over from our house.” Noni pointed at the roof of Heaven's Hill, visible through the winter trees.

  They raced away through the wet muddy grass. The ice on the trees was melting so quickly now that it sounded like rain falling on the old slate shingles of the church roof behind her.

  Noni held for a moment to the marble tombstone. She must have stood up too quickly. Then kneeling again, this time at Gordon's grave, she began cleaning fallen leaves and small branches from the holly that grew there, bright red berries in the deep green.

  Bent to her work, she didn’t see Kaye walking through the grove of old trees on the far side of the churchyard or her seven-year-old son Johnny running up the woody path behind him.

  Johnny was struggling to carry both a violin case and a thin carved wood music stand. “Hi, wait!” he yelled.

  Kaye turned around and saw a small boy in parka and baseball cap.

  “You’re Aunt Ma's son right?” the boy said.

  “Her grandson.”

  “You used to be my mom's friend.”

  Kaye watched the boy run toward him, wildly swinging his violin case as if in greeting. “That's right,” he told him.

  “My name's Johnny Tilden. I live at Heaven's Hill.” He pointed behind him. “You used to live at Clayhome.”

  “That's right.” Kaye started walking again and the little boy hurried to keep up. Then Kaye stopped and looked down at him. His thin face looked tanned and his eyes large and wide-spaced like Noni's. “Actually I’m looking for your mother right now. My grandmama said she was over at the church. Here, can I help you with that?”

  “Thanks.” The boy handed him the music stand. “My mom forgot it. She says she’ll forget her head someday, so she counts on me. Why are you looking for her?”

  “To give her a birthday present.” Kaye watched the thin little boy stick the violin case between his legs in order to rub his nose.

  “You’re too late. It was Tuesday. It's already over. We had a party, but Uncle Wade missed it because he went fishing in Florida. He has to go to Florida because Hurricane Andrew tore up his boat. I gave my mom a picture of her that Uncle Tat painted and I made the frame.” Breathless, Johnny now ran in front of Kaye and then skipped backwards in order to face the tall black man. “What's your present?” Kaye didn’t answer him. “Is it a surprise?”

  “That's right. Do you play that violin?”

  Johnny held up the case. “I’m the best one in the whole second grade.” Suddenly the boy tripped backwards over a large gnarled root and fell hard against the base of a tree. His hat and violin case went sprawling. Quickly, Kaye reached down, lifting him up. “You okay?” The boy nodded, blinking away the pain, rubbing his head. Kaye noticed then how striking the child was, with his tan skin and tight dark gold curls and long-lashed dark gold eyes that were the shape of Noni's eyes. “That was some spill. You okay?”

  “Sure.” The boy scrambled away from him and crawled over to the violin, hurriedly opening the case.

  “It looks fine to me,” Kaye told him.

  Johnny glanced up at him relieved. “I got to play this tonight. I’m the solo.”

  “Well, it looks okay.” Kaye gave him back his baseball cap. “Yankees fan?”

  “My Aunt Bunny got it. I went to New York and she took me to the game. You want to come hear me play? You could bring your little girl. Aunt Ma says you’ve got a little girl, and it's her great-granddaughter. Aunt Ma's the oldest person in Moors.”

  Kaye told him that yes, his daughter's name was Debby and that she was in preschool.

  “I don’t know her. I’m with the orchestra. I got to go.” The boy closed the black violin case and raced away through the trees up the winding wooded path to the churchyard.

  As Kaye came through the gate of the brick wall, he saw Noni kneeling, holding out her arms to the boy who was running toward her. She kept nodding as he talked, pointing back at Kaye. Then she looked up, shading her eyes, watching him approach.

  “Hi, Noni.”

  Noni's smile felt like sunshine. It always had. “Hi, Kaye.”

  “How’ve you been?”

  “Fine. God, it's been a long time.” She held out her hand and he shook it a little awkwardly. Then he handed her the wooden music stand.

  Johnny pushed between them. “You forgot it, Mommy. I brought it.”

  “Thank you, honey.” She turned to Kaye. “So. I hear you brought me a present, too.” Grinning, she held out her hand.

  He felt in his pocket for the box. “Sorry it's late. Thanks for yours. Where in the world did you find it?”

  Every year for the past five, Noni had sent Kaye an antique microscope, having heard from Amma that he collected them. “In New York, where else? Michelle and I found it on Madison Avenue.”

  When she opened the small box he’d handed her, there was a gold charm inside. It was a charm of a little sled.

  “Oh, Kaye.” She looked up at him, tears suddenly swelling. “I’m sorry. Look at me!”

  He shrugged, embarrassed. “Well, I figured we had the charm thing going, and then, well, I happened to see this one—” He stopped, shrugged again. “Anyhow, happy birthday, Noni. I hope everything's been okay. I hear they call you the Angel of Music at Moors Elementary. That's what Dionne's kids teacher told Shani.”

  “And where were you at Debby's preschool recital? Amma was there. Tatlock was there. Shani was there. Didn’t you want to hear your daughter sing the theme from Beauty and the Beast?”

  He grinned at her. “Believe me, I’ve heard my daughter sing the theme from Beauty and the Beast.” Kaye shaded his eyes in the bright sun to see her. “ I told you you’d be a great teacher.”

  She smiled. “Did you?”

  As they talked, Johnny was stretching up to look at the charm. “How come you gave my mom this little sled?”

  Noni said, “Because we used to go sledding when we were your age.”

  Holding out both arms dramatically, Johnny said, “On what?”

  “On snow,” Kaye told him. “Snow on Heaven's Hill that was higher than you are.”

  Johnny made a scoffing noise. “I bet.”

  “It's the truth.”

  Noni shaded her eyes. “Looks like it's going to snow again any minute.” She looked at her watch. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. We’ve got to go, Johnny, we’re late. Right now. Go go go.” Hurriedly she thanked Kaye for the gift. “Great to see you.” And she ran, her arm around her son, along the brick cemetery path.

  Kaye watched them until they’d disappeared inside the church. Why, he wondered, would Noni think it was going to snow any minute when the sky above the winter trees was everywhere a brilliant cloudless blue?

  The Tenth Day of Christmas

  December 25, 1995

  “Noni Plays Her Piano for Me”

  by Tatlock Fairley

  Noni Tilden had restored the tradition of the Christmas Day Open House at Heaven's Hill that had been hosted for so many years by her parents. It struck Kaye, as he stepped into the foyer and heard the soft hum of Southern voices and the bright laughter, how everything was both the same and completely different. In the wide front hall, willow baskets of pink poin-settias lined the parquet floor and holly wreaths hung on doors from gold ribbons. Christmas cards rested in swags of white pine on the banisters. But at the end of the hall, behind the scalloped Re
vere punch bowl on the Italian table with the curved legs, Lucas Miller now stood, the lawyer whom Kaye and Noni had known at Moors High. He was ladling into little silver cups holiday drinks for Dr. Jack Hurd and Becky Van Buehling. Kaye had heard they were engaged now. He stood watching for a moment, missing Bud Tilden's light pleasant voice greeting his guests. “God rest you merry, gentlemen!” “Peace on Earth, ladies!”

  Then Lucas Miller waved at him, his narrow earnest face kind behind the round gold-rimmed glasses. Just last night Amma had been telling Kaye that Lucas was a good friend to Noni, but not the man Noni loved. Just last night she had made Kaye promise to come to the Open House at Heaven's Hill today because she was worried about Noni.

  Kaye was sitting after dinner with his grandmother in the kitchen at Clayhome, where she was patiently allowing him to take her blood pressure. Since Tatlock Fairley's death the previous spring, Kaye always came over to make soup for her on the weekends. Soup was, she said, one of the few things she still took pleasure in eating. To eat it, she didn’t have to wear her teeth, and it settled her stomach.

  After dinner, just as he did every Sunday night throughout the year, Kaye gave Amma as much of a physical check-up as she’d allow. And, just as he did every week, he made his plea that she should leave Clayhome and move in with him and his family. As always, she refused. But when he put away his stethoscope to go, she stopped him. “Kaye, let's us talk for a minute.”

  He smiled, expecting the blessings lecture. “Yes, I’m a lucky man. Yes, I ought to appreciate it more.”

  Amma took off her apron, settled into her kitchen chair with its worn pillows, with old bleached sunflowers on their covers. “That's true, son. You got a good smart wife doing good in the world, and y’all love each other. And you got two sweet little girls.”