“God, that’s terrible.” I didn’t know what else to say.
Florabelle fumed. “It makes me cringe remembering Patty taking her sweet merry time getting dressed ready to go. Standing there, showing off her big breasts and full fanny, strutting back and forth to the bathroom in a red half slip, and the whole time ranting about how Jason’s pecker wouldn’t even fill a thimble.”
“That must have been a scene.” I stood up, walked over to her, put my hands on her shoulders.
She shrugged them off. “I’m okay. I just can’t believe him. I never thought he’d do something this bad. You know what kills me? What really tears me up? She’s so fat.”
I was surprised at how unaffected she seemed; it was more like she was angry, perhaps humiliated, but not that upset. “Patty’s fat now?” I asked, still in shock.
“Plump’s a better word for it.” She shook her head. “Just doesn’t make sense. Jason likes his women bony,” she looked over at me. “More like you than me, actually. You know it was my legs that caught Jason’s attention two years ago at a barn dance in Campton? I was two-stepping with some boy from church, I forget his name now, and Jason just walked right up, introduced himself to me. I remember him coming right out and saying ‘them’s a nice pair of legs you got there, couldn’t help but notice while you was twirling around with that fella.’”
Loudly, Florabelle gulped beer. “Anyways, he offered to buy me a pop and I’d just been thinking right that very moment how an Ale 8 would cool me down. So that was the beginning.”
I had the whole strand of lights untangled while she’d been talking, and plugged it in. Every bulb worked. I turned out the lamp. “There,” I said, “isn’t that pretty?”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I just wanted to get these working. I still can’t get over you finding them like that.”
Florabelle slouched down in the chair, released the footrest, stretched out her legs. “Look at these legs,” she said, “They’re still shapely.” She wiggled her feet.
“They’re nice legs,” I said, draping the lights over the tree branches. In the dim moonlight with the treelights reflecting off them, her bare legs shone like silver batons.
“Grandpa Trapper used to tell me I ought to get them insured.”
“He did, did he? Hey, if I make popcorn, will you help me string it?”
“Yeah, sure. I need something to distract me.”
“Just look outside, how peaceful and clear it is. That helps me when I’m down on something.”
“You down? What the hell could you be pining over? You got a job, your own place, and now you’re the big college girl.”
“I’ve still got my occasional woes,” I said vaguely, not wanting to talk about my situation with Culler. That seemed trivial at this point. “When I look out at the quiet hillside, I can forget things, for a little while, anyway.”
Florabelle tilted her head to see out the window, scoffed. “Doesn’t help me any. See how them two tiny stars are close together like that?”
I saw them, nodded.
“Well they remind me of Patty’s earrings. She had on them bright mirror kind that reflect back whatever color hits them. I swear I can see Patty’s face in that moon, just sneering down at me.” She was working herself up again.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I know it’s hard, but just try and forget about it. He was never real good for you anyway. You two were always fighting. It’s going to take some time, but someday you’ll see that you’re better off without him. Momma, Hazel, we all can help you with Daisy.”
Florabelle regarded this. “Bird’s crazy about her.”
“She’s a sweet baby,” I said.
“She is.” Florabelle sighed. “Sad thing is that Jason wanted a new car more than he wanted a kid. And he really wanted a boy once he knew he had no chance on the car.”
“Momma mentioned that.”
“I really should’ve guessed something like this would happen; Momma’s right.”
“You can never know these things.”
“Well, he never came home until late every night. Patty’s a ticket-taker down at Lowe’s Shows. Jason and the guys from the bedspring factory hung out down there after work. I don’t know if something’s been going on behind my back for quite some time now, or I caught them screwing on a wild whim.”
I was in the kitchen and had to shout over the popping noise. “Well, now that we know she was at your wedding, what she did to your cake, makes you wonder.”
“I thought of that, too. That bitch.”
“So you think they’re gone together?” I asked.
“I don’t know where the hell he went, and I don’t care. That house, or I should say that shack, it’s in his name, so I don’t give a rat’s ass. I ain’t going back.”
“Did you get all your stuff out?”
“Everything I wanted. All my clothes and keepsakes. I did have this crystal ashtray I’d stolen from Opry Land when we’d gone there once. I threw it at him and Patty, though, broke it on the headboard of the bed.”
I came back in the living room with the popcorn.
Heidi ate some out of the bowl while I threaded the needles.
“I hate thinking about it.” Florabelle belched.
“Then don’t. Come on, help me.” I gave her one of the needles.
“I really should have known he’d do something this evil.”
“You can’t know, this kind of thing happens to the best of us, trust me.” How well I knew.
“You know, though, I just can’t help thinking about that pitiful thing we met in Stanton that day at that garage sale. Remember her? That girl whose husband left her and her kid had died?”
“I thought of her, too. That’s what I mean. Bad things happen to everyone. For some, it’s worse.”
“I suppose so,” said Florabelle. “But that day when we were sitting out there in the hot sun, listening to her tell us about her husband leaving, the baby dying, I just kept wondering to myself then, what if this happened to me.”
“Well, you’re luckier. You still have Daisy.”
“Then why do I feel like that girl? I just don’t have any friends.”
“You’ve got me,” I said.
Florabelle had tears in her eyes.
I couldn’t remember ever seeing her cry. She was the hardest person I’d ever met in my life. “You’re going to be okay,” I said. “And remember, you’re not alone. We’re survivors, all of us. This family’s tough as nails.” Then I got up and changed the record.
For the next hour we strung popcorn, and then I broke down and told her my story.
It felt good to get it out, share my despair with someone who really cared. Talking about it somehow made it seem less miserable. I realized, compared to Florabelle’s problem, mine seemed so small. But she listened, she understood my jealousy toward his old girlfriend, and she could see how much I cared for Culler. But most of all, she was sincerely proud of me for signing up for school. Growing up, she always told me I’d be famous one day, and she said it again that night. She decided I’d go on to become a prominent brain surgeon.
I had to pop four or five batches of popcorn because we kept eating it. After we got the strands dyed and hanging on the tree, I invited her to sleep over, thinking we could both use the company. She had already planned to, and had her flannel gown in her bag.
I let Heidi out, then locked up and climbed in bed first. As I lay there waiting for her, I prayed silently for both of us.
When she’d brushed her teeth, gargled, flossed, and put on all her creams, she climbed in bed next to me and folded her arms up under her head. “Did you know Jason never would even eat fresh vegetables?”
“No, I didn’t ever know that.” I said in the darkness.
I recognized the familiar scent of chantilly lotion, and for the first time in a long time, the bedroom smelled of sweet reassurance.
42. Voices
About a week
later, I went into work one morning and received some good news. They decided to give me something like a scholarship, an offer to pay for my school, for any classes that related to the work I did there at the clinic.
I was in such a good mood for a change, on the way home, I celebrated and stopped at a Ben Franklin to buy a box of tree ornaments. Besides the popcorn and lights, my tree was bare.
I called Birdie and Florabelle to come down and help me hang ornaments, and kept my promise with Bird to place the topper. It was a silver star with angel hair. They brought little Daisy with them, and she lay on a bundle of blankets, staring up at the star for almost an hour.
Florabelle seemed to be in better spirits. She had it figured that Jason had taken off to Chattanooga, Tennessee, where another one of his brother’s lived and ran a hardware store. She believed Patty was with him. She said she watched the news at night, and listened for the weather there in Chattanooga, hoping to hear news of Jason getting caught in a blizzard and freezing to death.
We decorated the tree and played with Daisy. Heidi didn’t know what to think about her, never being around a little baby before, but she was gentle.
We talked about past Christmases and wrapped some little presents we’d bought for Grandma.
Florabelle told us that Grandma was allowed to come home and spend Christmas day, but she refused to unless she could bring Earl. Momma, though, was putting her foot down to the fact that he was a married man, and told Grandma she could just stay there at the nursing home for Christmas, if that’s the way she wanted to be about it.
We all laughed at Grandma’s stubborn old spirit. Then Florabelle took all my leftover vegetables out of the freezer and made us some soup. They stayed until late that evening, then I drove them back down the hill. It had been nice, hearing voices in the house. For such a long time, it seemed only the sounds of my own crying had occupied the space.
When I got back from taking them home, my phone was ringing.
It was Culler.
At first, I was silent on my end. Stunned.
“Hi, Fern. I talked to Connie. She said she saw you.”
“We had a nice visit.”
“So I hear. Fern, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’d like to talk about something, I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
“I don’t think there’s much left to say,” I said.
However, he went on about how he really did care for me, but felt so strongly that any relationship we may have would really put a strain on me with my family. He thought that after that last episode on Halloween, I’d never want to see him again. He was feeling guilty for what had happened and blamed himself.
“I’m on my own now, you know that,” I said flatly. “I don’t answer to them. I make my own decisions now.”
“See, that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about. The fact that you’ve moved out, you’re starting school, working full-time, carrying your own weight, well, it made me realize that.”
“So, what’s your point?”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve been wrong about you,” he admitted. “You’re more independent, more strong-minded than I realized. I guess I figured you’d always stay at home and let your family run your life.”
It upset me, hearing his opinion of me. It seemed in his mind, all this time, I was lacking will. “Well, now that you’ve told me that you think I’m a big baby, why are you calling me? What, does it make you feel better to get it out in the open? It’s not helping me any.” I was about to hang up when he dropped the big one.
“Fern, there’s something else. I knew about the fire at Clem’s. I remembered the lantern, and suspected the morning I left your house, how those flames may have started.”
“That’s history now. I have to go.”
“Fern, wait a minute. After listening to Connie, I got the impression that maybe you still care for me. Am I right?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know right then, if I did or not.
“If I am, I’d like us to try again. Start over.”
Then I hung up.
I sat in the chair, staring at my tree until all the little colored lights blurred together into one dim glow. The wind whipped through the trees, and my little house shook, creaked at the seams. I wondered how Grandma never got frightened, living alone up here, at the top of the hill. She always used to say she could hear voices, that these voices kept her company. We used to think that she was crazy, but sitting there that night, I realized that all the voices she’d claimed to hear were the howling of the wind. Just as I thought I heard one whisper to me, I fell fast asleep.
43. More Rattles
A nurse had given Birdie some coloring books in the waiting area outside Grandma’s room. Florabelle was sitting on the sofa beside her, rocking Daisy, smoking a cigarette.
When I walked in, Birdie ran to my arms and burst into tears. “She’s going to die,” she cried, “Hazel’s heard the death rattles.”
We were in the Emergency Ward at Winchester Regional Medical Center. I shushed Birdie, looked at Florabelle. “How is she?” I asked.
Florabelle put out her cigarette, lay Daisy down next to her, blew her nose. “They say the heart attack was mild, but she’s weak and critical.” She eyed Birdie, lowered her voice. “They don’t expect her to make it. Stress-induced, is what this cardiologist tells us. Asked us if she’d recently undergone any extreme domestic changes or suffered any severe emotional experiences.” Florabelle tried not to blink. “Momma’s blaming herself, of course.”
“Where’s Momma now?” I asked.
“In there with Grandma,” said Birdie. “Hazel went to get coffee.”
Birdie had quit crying, but was fighting uncontrollable gasps. “Momma said it probably was Grandma’s depression of having to move out of her own house that brought it on. It’s Daddy’s fault.” She broke into another outburst.
I hugged her close, and her tears soaked my lab coat. “It’s no one’s fault,” I said. “Grandma’s old. It just might be her time.” My voice cracked.
“She knows you’re living in her house,” said Florabelle.
I winced.
Hazel came back with a Styrofoam cup of coffee and a KitKat for Birdie. “Here, honey,” she said, “eat this and cheer up.” Then she saw me, acted surprised. “Fern, I thought for a second you was one of the doctors. I saw that white coat.”
“When did this all happen?” I asked her.
“After lunch, I went in to give her her pills and found her crumpled up on her side, on the floor next to a box of old photographs. I screamed, the staff came in, called an ambulance. I left and drove straight home, got everybody, and rushed us here.”
Birdie had been the one who had remembered the name of the place where I worked and called me to get there as fast as I could.
She opened her candy bar, sat down, and in between sobs, ate the whole thing.
“Did anyone call Daddy?” I asked.
“I tried,” said Hazel. “Couldn’t get a hold of him, I left a message at the plant.”
“Can we see her?” I asked.
“Yeah, I was just in there,” said Hazel.
“I don’t want to go in there with the baby,” said Florabelle. “I’m staying out here with Bird.”
“I want to see her,” said Birdie.
“Bird, the doctors don’t want you in there right now,” explained Florabelle. “It’ll just upset you, seeing Grandma hooked up to all them machines.”
When I walked in the room, Momma was sitting in a chair next to the bed. She looked up when I came in, her eyes were red.
I walked over and put my hand on her shoulder.
She stood up, and we hugged and cried. It had been almost two months since we’d seen each other.
Two hours went by. Momma and I sat together in Grandma’s room, waiting. Hazel came in and out, bringing me and Momma Pepsis and chewing gum. It made her too nervous, though, to stay in the room for too long. There was a no-smoking s
ign on the back of the door.
Nurses came and went, taking measurements, recording and adjusting things, offering us kind words. Once they brought Birdie in, but she turned so pale they had to take her back out.
Grandma looked so pitiful, lying there with tubes up her nose. She was so peaked, and each breath was an effort. Her breathing was raspy; she struggled to hang on.
I had never heard the death rattles before that afternoon, and thought they were the saddest thing I’d ever hear. The sounds of what could be Grandma’s last breaths were more mournful than the whimpering of a frightened, wounded dog, a crying widowed woman, a family arguing, or the howling wind at night. Even a lonelier sound than silence.
It was close to ten-thirty when a thin, dark-complected nurse came in, nudged us awake, and said, “She has taken a turn for the better. It is most miraculous.” Her accent was strong Spanish. “She is gaining consciousness and strength; the doctor is coming. And Mrs Rayburn, your husband wants you to call home.”
We looked at Grandma. Her troubled breathing was beginning to ease and a little color had returned to her face.
“Praise the Lord,” whispered Momma, taking hold of Grandma’s hand.
I walked back out into the waiting room. The nurse had already given the others the same news. Birdie looked like she had just woke up, and was smiling at me faintly. Some male intern was sitting next to Florabelle, on his break, drinking a cola. He was giving her advice on child rearing.
Hazel looked totally wiped out. “You don’t know how relieved I am,” she said. “Mom’s as mean as an old yard snake, but I don’t think I was ready to let her go yet.”
Momma finally came out to the nurse’s station and dialed Daddy.
“You finally got a hold of Daddy?” I asked Hazel.
“Yeah, I reached him at home just a while ago. He was worried when nobody was home.”
“Is he coming up?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Sylvia was just supposed to call him.”
Momma joined us in the waiting room, and Hazel gave her a hug.
“I told Raymond to come take Bird home. I want her back in her own bed now that everything seems to be all right.” Exhausted, Momma went into Grandma’s room.
Natural Bridges Page 23
