Walking with Miss Millie

by Tamara Bundy

  Then I remembered the car that stopped, with the girl in it waving to Eddie and me. And that’s why the pigtailed girl who smiled at me at the library looked familiar. I started to nod.

  “Miss Millie said you’re eleven, too,” Charlene said.

  “Yep—just had a birthday last week.”

  “My birthday was last month!”

  We talked about the library and school and birthdays for a few more minutes before Miss Millie came back grinning like she had a secret.

  Before we started walking again, I told Charlene maybe I’d see her later.

  When we got about a block away, I finally said, “I know what you were doing back there.”

  “Wh-what? Visiting my . . . my doctor?” Miss Millie sputtered all innocent-like.

  “Uh-huh. All that talk about needing friends . . . Do you think you have to find friends for me?”

  “Well, somebody better!” As she said that she laughed and began to cough again. We had to stop completely. Finally, she was done coughing, but she wasn’t yet done talking.

  “Alice-girl, ya need more friends.”

  “I got you.”

  Those dang words jumped out of my mouth before I had a chance to think about them. When I heard them, I was embarrassed that I sounded like a whiny little girl.

  Miss Millie smiled a real nice smile though and just said, “That’s real sweet, Alice-girl. But I don’t have much longer.”

  There it was again.

  Since that walk when she told me she was dying, I didn’t want to talk about it, but sometimes she’d say things like how she just knew Miss Frankie would cause a scene at her funeral or how Miss Mary would want to sing. Every time she’d say something like that, I’d change the subject. But there was something about the way she was talking and the way she was looking at me: I just knew this was different. My heart felt all sad but I couldn’t change the subject this time.

  “Did the doctor tell you something back there?”

  “He didn’t have to. I just know. And I’m ready.”

  I looked away from her. Charlene’s house wasn’t too far yet, but it grew blurry through my eyes.

  Miss Millie touched my shoulder. “Got everything worked out with the preacher man for the particulars of what will happen, when . . .” She smiled at me like she understood I didn’t want her to say the word. She picked another one. “. . . when my day comes. But all that stuff considered, this here little guy is the only thing I really worry about once I’m gone.”

  With that, Clarence looked back at me like he was waiting for me to say something. And looking into his beady eyes, it hit me. “You want me to take care of Clarence for you?”

  Clarence seemed to nod as he turned back around as Miss Millie smiled so sweet. “That would make me happy, if it could happen that way. I ran it by your mama and she said it was okay with her. But I understand if it’s an imposition.”

  I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what an imposition was, but I knew if Miss Millie would be happy to have me take care of Clarence for her when she . . . was gone, I would do it.

  When our walk that day ended, I wasn’t surprised to see Miss Millie reach in her pocket. Every now and then she’d still give me another treasure from some part of her life. So far she’d given me old coins, an arrowhead, more rocks, old pins, Ruth’s shell and more marbles. I kept them all in that hatbox with the photo.

  This time Miss Millie pulled out an envelope. And this envelope had my name on it. Well, to tell the truth, it said, Alice-girl.

  She put the envelope in my right hand and then cradled my hand with both of hers. She stood there for a moment just looking at me. I was trying to be polite and wait for her to say something, but she didn’t so I said, “Thank you.”

  Then she spoke, her eyes twinkling with tears. “No, Alice-girl, thank you.”

  She hugged me.

  I hugged her back, burying my face in her white button-down shirt that smelled of lotion, sunshine and friendship.

  Clarence must have felt left out or something, ’cause he started whining and whimpering like he wanted a hug, too.

  Miss Millie laughed. “Don’t that beat all?” She picked up Clarence as I started to open the letter. She smiled but said, “No need to open that now. You can open it when ya get home.”

  “Okay.” I laughed, too, as I walked to the fence and hollered back, “See you tomorrow.”

  . . . . . .

  But I was wrong.

  chapter 28

  Reverend Hill was in Grandma’s living room the next day when I woke up.

  When a preacher man is at your house when you wake up, it’s probably not because he wants breakfast. So when I saw him in the living room, I suspected it had happened.

  When I saw Clarence with him, I knew.

  Eddie started crying when Mama explained it to him. I think she was waiting for my tears to come, too, but my insides just felt kind of empty.

  . . . . . .

  The next three days were out of focus for me.

  I know the usual daytime stuff happened, like getting dressed and eating and all. I remember Mama making cookies, Pam trying to get me to laugh and Eddie hugging me lots of times.

  But I could barely talk to anyone.

  Except Clarence. I knew he was missing her, too.

  . . . . . .

  I felt bad leaving Clarence at home for the funeral, but Mama was right, he wouldn’t like all the people being there. Not sure I liked everyone being there either.

  But I sat there through the whole “ashes to ashes and dust to dust” stuff. Through praying and reading more Bible verses. I sat there, listening.

  And then we all walked down to the cemetery for the burial.

  That’s when Reverend Hill asked if anyone had any last words and Miss Frankie offered to talk, just like Miss Millie said she would.

  She held on to a paper fan that looked to have a picture of the Last Supper on it, but it was hard to say for certain, since she fanned herself so fast. “Lordy, it’s hot! This home-goin’ service is so very hot! That’s what we call it. A home-goin’ service. Miss Millie’s ancestors are all waitin’ for her on the other side to welcome her home. Oh how they’ll rejoice!” She fanned some more and looked up at the sky.

  Everybody waited. Reverend Hill moved closer to her, maybe thinking she was done.

  She wasn’t.

  Finally, she continued. “But she was my very best friend and I’m sure gonna miss her! Can’t believe she gone! Gone. Dear Millie! She was a good Christian lady.” Miss Frankie stopped for a minute and glared at Miss Mary. She fanned herself some more before continuing. “And she was a wonderful singer. And a good baker. Lordy, she was a good baker. She was a good woman and a great friend and I miss her already.”

  She sighed and lowered her head. Reverend Hill thanked her for her words, but she wasn’t quite done yet. “I’ll see you one day again, Millie!” Miss Frankie exclaimed, looking up to the sky. And then she added with a twinkle in her eye, “But it won’t be soon. You know you was a lot older than me . . .”

  I just knew Miss Millie would’ve liked that.

  That and all the rest happened just like she said it would.

  When the preacher told us he’d like us all to raise our voices to sing Miss Millie’s favorite song, Miss Mary had to know it was her last chance to sing a solo that day, so she stood up and cleared her throat. But when Reverend Hill went over and whispered in her ear, I heard her say, “Humph!” before walking away. I just knew Miss Millie would’ve like that, too.

  “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

  There’s a land that I’ve heard of once in a lullaby.

  Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue

  And the dreams that you dare to dream,

  Really do come true.”

  I didn
’t really feel like it, but hearing the song reminded me of the day I heard Miss Millie singing so I couldn’t help but join in.

  And beside me was Mama, who was singing, and signing the song to Eddie, and Pam, who was watching Mama sign like she was trying to soak up how to make every word.

  Grandma was standing with us, but not singing, only humming, since I don’t think she remembered the words.

  When the singing was done, Reverend Hill reminded everyone about the meal back at the church, and folks began to leave the cemetery.

  “Mercy me! I almost forgot.” Miss Frankie pulled out what looked to be a pie pan and put it on the grave site. “So worried about getting to the repast, I almost forgot to leave this,” she told me. “See you at the church hall!”

  Did Miss Frankie think Miss Millie was taking pie orders now? I wanted to laugh but I knew the person who would have laughed the most at that was gone.

  All of a sudden, my chest hurt. I felt it rise up and down with such force, like I’d been running. I breathed deep, hoping to make my chest quit panting, and turned to the little cross with the peeling paint next to Miss Millie’s grave. I put my hand out like Miss Millie did every time we’d walk this way. I never did know what she was saying, so I hoped Mr. Clayton Miller didn’t mind that I didn’t have any words.

  I’m not sure how long I stood like that but soon I heard Mama call my name to say it was time to go.

  I took my hand off the cross and put it inside the pocket of the sundress Mama made me wear. With my hand in my pocket, I felt the family picture Miss Millie gave me that day. Having it inside my pocket made me feel like I had a secret nobody else knew.

  I peeked at the picture and just seeing Miss Millie and her family in that happy minute of her life made me as close to happy as I could be right then.

  . . . . . .

  Walking into the church’s social hall, I was greeted by fried chicken, fried green tomatoes, fried collard greens, you name it and if it could be fried, it was probably laid out on the main table right under the picture of our Lord. I had to smile since it looked like Jesus Himself was offering us the feast as He stood there with His hands stretched out over the food, like He was sayin’, Come and get it!

  I was just finishing some fried chicken I really didn’t feel like eating when Miss Frankie came up to me. She grabbed me so hard I would’ve choked if I hadn’t already swallowed my last bite.

  “Baby, baby, baby,” she said, and rocked me back and forth as if I really was a baby. “What are we gonna do without her? I knew this day would come, but Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, why did it come so soon?”

  I wasn’t sure if she was asking that question to me or to the Lord, but it didn’t really matter since I couldn’t answer. I could hardly even breathe.

  When she finally released me, I caught my breath and asked her, “Did you put a pie pan on Miss Millie’s grave?”

  “Mmm-hmmm.” Miss Frankie nodded and smiled like she was remembering those pies.

  “Can you tell me why?”

  She nodded again. “It’s an old tradition of ours. We put something that belonged to the deceased on their grave to help them have a good journey to where they goin’. Figured the pie pan is as good as anything, since I had it at my house. And that way, when I meet her again she can’t be claimin’ I never returned it!” Miss Frankie let out a laugh, but I saw real tears in her eyes. She looked at me and smoothed back a piece of my hair that came out of its pigtail. “Plus, it helps us say our goodbyes.”

  My words got all stuck in my throat as I tried to take this all in, so I just moved my head up and down.

  Someone came up to hug Miss Frankie, and I wandered off. The huge table of food was completely picked over, except for a mystery vegetable casserole, so people started to leave.

  There were chores to be done, just like every other day.

  There were jobs to be worked, just like every other day.

  But my job of walking with Miss Millie wouldn’t happen again like every other day. I was starting to feel the pain of the loss of it and of her, just like when I had to leave behind my home and friends in Ohio.

  Mama saw me sitting by myself under the blue stained-glass window and came over. “You okay, Alice-Ann?”

  And even though my heart felt like it was made out of lead right then, I was remembering what Miss Millie said about figuring out what you can change and what you can’t change. I figured nobody but Jesus could bring somebody back from the dead, so I needed to go ahead and finish getting sad, and finish getting mad. It was like Miss Millie was whispering in my ear right then and there, telling me it was time to get smart and figure out what to do next. I tried to smile as I answered, “I think I’ll be okay, Mama.”

  Then I looked back at that picture of the Lord with His hands stretched out, and I pictured Him getting ready to welcome Miss Millie to be forever with her Clayton, both her Jameses and her friend Miss Ruth, all together in one perfect place.

  And then I did smile. But only for a second because I felt like there was still something I needed to do.

  I thought of Miss Frankie leaving Miss Millie a pie pan. If there was one dang thing I could do to help Miss Millie on her last journey, I had to do it now.

  After all, she’d helped me so much on mine.

  chapter 29

  I knew just what I needed.

  The hatbox.

  The hatbox filled with all the treasures from Miss Millie. One of them might help Miss Millie on her journey. And if Miss Frankie was right, leaving her something just might help me say goodbye, too. Although that was hard to imagine.

  But I had to at least try.

  Running upstairs to the bed I shared with Mama, I lifted up the corner of the gold bedspread, expecting to see the box sitting under the bed where I always kept it. But it wasn’t there.

  I bent down on all fours and shoved my head way back under the rusty springs that creaked every time one of us rolled over in the middle of the night.

  But I saw nothing.

  A piece of my pigtail got stuck on the spring under the bed and I had to wiggle and twist it loose before I could jump up and check out the closet.

  But again, nothing.

  . . . . . .

  Then of course I thought of Eddie.

  Every time I came home with something new, he would hold it and smile and play with it till I made him put it back.

  He loved that box almost as much as I loved it.

  He had to have it!

  I found Eddie in the backyard and signed, “Do you know where my hatbox is?”

  Eddie looked away, playing a game he sometimes played, like you can’t be holding him responsible for something if he can’t see you ask.

  I knew better.

  “Eddie,” I signed as I stepped back in front of him, knowing he knew. “Where is it? It’s mine and I need it. Now!”

  Eddie sighed, grinned real big, shrugged his shoulders and signed, “Get on bus.”

  I’d had enough. “No, Eddie, I don’t want to play! Tell me where my box is.”

  Eddie grinned. “Get on bus and I show you,” he signed.

  Mama always talks about her blood boiling when she gets real mad. I don’t know at what temperature that happens, but I was fairly certain my blood was at the temperature for boiling right then.

  But knowing Eddie like I did, and figuring I had no choice, I took a deep breath and got in line behind my brother as he drove that crazy plate around the backyard like we were on a bus.

  The more we crisscrossed the yard, the madder I got.

  Just when my blood was ready to completely boil over and I was about to jump off that bus and tell Mama, Eddie stopped “driving” and pointed to a hollowed-out spot behind the big tree with the tire swing. Right there at the bottom was a little indent, the perfect size for hiding a box of treasures.
<
br />   And there it was.

  And right beside it was Clarence like he was guarding it for me until I could do what he knew I needed to do.

  I signed to Eddie, “Why did you take it?”

  Eddie moved his hand across his forehead like he was wiping away a memory—the sign for forget—and then he shook his head something fierce.

  “I don’t want to forget,” he repeated.

  I answered by touching my heart and his. “Don’t worry. You won’t forget. I promise. We’ll never forget. We’ll keep everything in here and we’ll always remember.”

  Clarence snuggled close to us and nudged us to pet him and the three of us shared a hug.

  For a few minutes I just sat there with Eddie and Clarence, next to the hatbox, and I knew we were all three remembering Miss Millie.

  Mama came out and sat down next to us on that bit of grass, under that tree. “You guys okay out here?”

  Eddie nodded, wiped his eyes and went back to plate-driving while I rubbed the hatbox like I was petting Clarence. “I think so. But there’s still something I have to do. For Miss Millie.”

  Mama looked at me and at the hatbox, her eyes getting misty again. I looked down at the box to keep my eyes from doing the same. I read aloud the words on the hatbox. “‘Moveo et proficio.’ Do you know what that means, Mama?”

  Mama looked at the box and then up at the sky. “Hmmm . . . Let me think—I studied Latin years ago. Wait—I should know this. Oh, I remember: ‘Moveo et proficio’ is Latin for ‘I move and I progress.’”

  Didn’t that beat all? “Did you just make that up right now?”

  Mama laughed. A real kind of laugh that made me feel more at home than I had felt for a long time. “I promise—that’s what it means.”

  I hugged Mama and told her I had to go do that last thing for Miss Millie. Mama asked if I wanted her to come, but I told her no—I could do this by myself.

  Well—by myself with Clarence.

  I grabbed the hatbox and Clarence and headed out to the front yard, where I ran smack into Jake and Pam.