by Joyce Magnin
"Goodness gracious," I said. "This really is a case. Maybe Mildred is right. Maybe there's more to this than we can know."
"Mildred?" Gilda said. "You mean that woman cop in town? She's snooping around, huh?"
"She just concerned," I said. "She takes good care of us in Bright's Pond."
"Is that right?" Gilda said. "That's good to know."
Stella grabbed my hand. "Come on, Griselda. We better get going. I need to get back to the farm."
"You do that," Gilda said. "I'm sure you got cows to rustle and chickens to tend to. I'll be here keeping my eye on things."
"I bet you will," Stella said.
This time I pulled Stella's hand. "You're right. We need to get back."
By the time we got to the parking lot Stella had steam coming out of her ears. "Do you believe that woman, letting on that she stays at Walter's bedside for hours and hours? And that whole treasure story. There is something fishy going on."
"Calm down, Stella. You can't go getting yourself all worked up like this. We really don't know much of anything. I think we should give her the benefit of the doubt and see how this plays out. Mildred will keep her eye out and, believe me, if she suspects anything she'll let you know."
I opened the truck door for Stella. "Are you gonna tell Nate about this?"
"No way. He'll just turn it into something worse than it already is and maybe even forbid me from coming back to see Walter."
I pulled out on the main road. "I got to say, you certainly changed your tune. I had to practically drag you to see him and now you're all protective like a mother bear."
"He's my brother, Griselda."
I shook my head and let go a nervous laugh. "That's what I told you. So let's just take it nice and easy."
Back at the Kincaid's farm I saw Cliff standing on their porch.
Stella saw him also. "Want to come in for coffee?" She winked at me.
"Um, sure. Coffee sounds good."
Now I knew that Stella had gotten it into her head that I was interested in Cliff Cardwell in a romantic way, and I knew I would have no luck trying to dissuade her.
"Griselda," Cliff called. "I was looking for you."
"Uh-huh," Stella said as she leaned close to me. "I'll leave you two alone."
Stella walked on ahead into the house.
"How come you were looking for me?" I asked.
"I got Matilda running today. Still think I need plugs, but she'll fly. I plan to hang around Bright's Pond until they come. I had to order them from Wilkes-Barre."
"Nate could have driven you there," I said.
Cliff looked at his feet. "I know, but—well, to be honest, I like it here."
"Stella was putting coffee on," I said. "Want to join us?"
"Sounds good."
As I made my way to Stella's kitchen I realized for the first time since Agnes went to Greenbrier that I wasn't rushing to get home, to get back to Agnes. I sat at Stella's table and thought about how nice it was to sit with a friend and not worry if my sister needed anything.
"Thanks for taking me today," Stella said as she placed a cup in front of me. "I'm glad I went and I'm glad I know a thing or two now."
Cliff sat across from me.
"Mind if I ask what you gals are talking about?"
"My brother," Stella said. "I went to see him."
"Oh, oh, at the nursing home. The brother in the coma."
Stella nodded and then turned her back to get a pie off the counter. "It's Full Moon," she said.
"Fine," I said.
That was when Nate came in through the back door cussing up a storm. "Rain," was the first intelligible word out of his mouth. "I can't control the mildew with all this rain."
"You're doing the best you can," Stella said.
"Well the best isn't good enough. She's gonna collapse and die before the weigh-off if I can't keep her dry."
"How about a cup of coffee?" Stella asked. "Take a break."
"A break? A break? I still got thirty acres of corn to mow and that dang blame tractor is giving me trouble. And where on God's green earth have you been?"
"I'm sorry, Nate," Stella said, "I just thought—"
"You just thought. Maybe if you gave me some help around here. Now where were you?"
"I went to see Walter," Stella said. She ran her finger around her coffee cup.
"Walter? But I thought we agreed you'd steer clear of him."
"You agreed, Nate. He's my brother. No matter what happened in the past. I couldn't just let him lie there with no family, no visitors. Well no visitors except that . . . that Gilda Saucer slinking around. I don't believe for one minute she really cares about him."
At that moment I saw Cliff's eyebrow's arch. "Course she does," he said. "They're getting married."
"Maybe," Stella said. "If he ever wakes up. Can't marry a man in a coma." Then she turned thoughtful. "Leastways I don't think you can."
Cliff pushed a large bite of pie into his mouth. "Don't know about that."
"I can't hang around here talking about your no-count brother anymore," Nate said. "I got a ton of work needs doing."
That was when my stomach started to roil. Fortunately Cliff eased the mood in the room. "Come on, Nate. I'll take a look at the tractor."
Nate took off his cap and rubbed his nearly bald head. "Much obliged, Cliff." Then he turned to Stella. "Thought you said you had coffee."
Stella grabbed a Thermos from a shelf and filled it with black coffee. "Here." She shoved it at him.
"Wow," I said. "How long have you guys been—"
"Nasty with each other?"
I picked at the pie crust. "Well yeah, I guess that's what I mean."
"Since right when Bertha Ann got bugs and mildew. It's like he's obsessed with that pumpkin and blames me for everything that goes wrong around here. And to tell the truth, Griselda, it seems like ever since Agnes moved to Greenbrier everything is going wrong."
I poured cream in my coffee debating whether to say anything about Agnes or not. When she admitted herself to the nursing home I vowed not to make her the center of every conversation I had and not to let the rest of the folks do the same. But I couldn't help myself.
"Agnes has nothing to do with Bertha Ann's bugs or mildew or for Nate's tractor breaking down."
"Just seems uncanny is all," Stella said.
"Don't you blame Agnes too. She's not magical. I thought we were over all that."
Stella took a deep breath and sighed it out. "Let's talk about something else. How's the dance plans coming? Studebaker asked Nate if he could build a saloon, a western saloon with swinging doors and all. He's got it nearly finished out in the barn."
"Yep. I'm surprised he's been able to do it considering all his troubles with the pumpkin."
"Nate loves two things," Stella said. "Growing pumpkins and building things."
"Are you coming to the dance, you and Nate?"
Stella didn't answer right off. But after she finished her pie she said, "Not sure. I didn't tell you but they moved the date of the weigh-off up a couple of weeks. Got a lot of people upset, but that's OK. They all have the same amount of time still, you know?"
"Oh, I hadn't heard that. Guess that would explain Nate's extra bad mood."
"Maybe. But anyhow, the weigh-off is now the same day as the dance. So I guess we'll see what kind of mood he's in afterward."
14
That weekend Bright's Pond enjoyed some of the best weather in weeks. Not a drop of rain, and I was happy for Nate. I imagined he was knee-deep in mildew control but probably relieved that the seeming monsoon season had passed. I spent Saturday cleaning, a well-needed cleaning in the kitchen and bathrooms. For years I had seen the kitchen as a place to make and keep food for Agnes.
I pulled pots and pans from the cabinet and noticed how stained and burned some of them were. I tossed them in the trash planning to purchase new pots, new pans. It was as though the sunny day had changed my disposition toward cooking. It
was no longer a chore and something I only did to satisfy hunger.
"How in heaven's name did you manage this?" I said as I pulled a dead mouse out of the cabinet. I held it by its tail and showed it to Arthur who mewed and rubbed against my leg. I tossed it in the trash.
By the time I finished with the cabinets I had three cans full of trash, well, what I considered trash but thought someone else might find useful—an old toaster, two large slotted spoons, a few pots of varying sizes and a rolling pin that I had never ever used. I just didn't want it.
I pulled down the kitchen curtains and tossed them in the washer, then I scrubbed an inch of grime from the window sills. This had been the first time since Agnes moved out that I felt like taking care of the house. Oh, I kept it clean enough while I cared for her but now it was for me and me alone. Perhaps it was ego, perhaps Jesus might have frowned at my pride but I needed to enjoy what was beginning to feel like freedom.
When I opened the kitchen windows a breath of fresh, clean mountain air rushed in, air that smelled sanitized by all the recent rain, sanitized with a hint of juniper. Birds sang in the distance and I stood silent a moment when a red-tailed fox scampered into the yard. He stopped and turned and looked in my direction then disappeared.
At noon the doorbell rang and I realized I had not gotten out of my sweatpants all day. I pulled the large, yellow rubber gloves from my hands and dropped them in the bucket of sudsy water.
It was Ruth.
"I came by to see if you noticed this bright, shiny day. Why it's like the good Lord is finally smiling on Bright's Pond again. Land o' Goshen, Griselda I never thought the clouds would vanish. Every single day there were clouds somewhere on the horizon."
I welcomed her inside. "I suppose it couldn't stay cloudy and rainy forever, but I agree, Ruth, it does feel like a gift doesn't it, this day I mean?"
"Yes sirree Bob."
She followed me into the kitchen.
"You've been cleaning. Well I don't want to interrupt your work—"
"No, no it's fine. Sit at the table I could use a break. Just let me finish wiping out this cabinet."
"Spring cleaning is good for the soul, you know. Even though it is fall and not spring."
"It is good for the soul," I said. "I don't think I've done this much cleaning in years."
"I swear by it, Griselda, but you know that. You know how every spring I bring out the rugs and mattresses and beat tar out of them. You've seen me hanging from the windows cleaning the glass with vinegar and newspapers."
"Once maybe, I didn't pay it much mind. But vinegar and newspapers?"
"Best thing for glass. No streaks. I think that's why that crow slammed into my living room bay window last year. Fool thing thought he could fly straight through. I wrung his neck. Put him out of his misery."
I closed the cabinet door. "You're a good woman, Ruth." Then I dumped the bucket of dirty water down the drain.
"Might be better to dump that water in the basement," Ruth said.
"It's still a drain. All goes to the same place."
"Anyhoo," Ruth fidgeted with a twisty tie from a loaf of bread. "Speaking of misery, what is going on with Stella? I heard she went to see Walter. Is that true?"
"Sure is." I stretched my back. "I could use a cuppa."
"Me too."
"What time is it getting to be?" I asked as I filled the percolator.
"Going on two," Ruth said.
I shook my head. "I can't believe how fast this day is whizzing past."
"Gotta date? Word is that you are sweet on Cliff Cardwell, the pilot fella. How does Zeb feel about that?"
"I am not sweet on him, Ruth. And Zeb is just being silly, acting all jealous."
"Well I don't see a ring on your finger, Griselda. You are free to play the field. It would do you some good. Do your heart good, course I'd go after him myself but I'm afraid my memories of my Bubba are just too fresh, and I might be a tad too old."
"I am not going after him."
She finished her coffee. "So how is Agnes and like I asked, what's the scoop with Stella?"
"Agnes is doing OK. She had an asthma attack the other day, but I think she is actually looking thinner, you know, especially in her face, her cheeks."
"That's good. Real good but I doubt she'll ever get skinny."
"Probably." I heard my stomach grumble. "I must be hungry. Didn't realize it."
"Wanna go down the café?"
"No, Zeb is picking me up for dinner and maybe a movie. He called a little earlier. I thought he was mad at me but I guess I'm wrong."
"Why would he be mad at you?"
"Because of Cliff. He thinks the same as you and probably everybody else in town that I'm sweet on Cliff."
"Oh, really? There see, it is kind of obvious."
"But it's not true."
Ruth poured herself a second cup of coffee. "I never told anyone this but when I first met Bubba I didn't like him even though my mother kept telling me he was the one. I kept denying it until Cupid's arrow finally found my rear end and I came to my senses, and we were happily married for twenty-six years."
"I don't need Cupid's arrow to find me. If I wanted to go out with Cliff I would, but I am going out with Zeb this evening, not Cliff."
"All right but denial is not just a river in Egypt. I read that in one of those self-help books that are becoming so popular. I think it was called Embrace Your Inner Child or something like that."
"Ruth. I am not in denial. And I have no inner child."
"OK, OK. Where's Zeb taking you?"
I chuckled. "Probably the café. He has never taken me anywhere else."
"Cheapskate. You should tell him you want to go some place special tonight."
I sipped my coffee and let it linger in my mouth a second or two while I considered what Ruth just said. "You know you're right. I think I'll ask him to take me into Shoops. Maybe The Pink Lady. I could go for one of their burgers."
"Good for you. Sometimes you have to ask for what you want or you'll go through life wondering if you could have ever had it. I think folks assume too much. They assume that others know what they want when the whole time the other person didn't have a clue."
"You're confusing me and yourself. I already said I'll ask Zeb to take me some place besides the café."
Ruth brought the subject around to Walter. "That poor, poor man. I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like to be all locked up inside your brain, alive but not alive."
"Stella and I went to visit him," I said.
"You did? Why didn't you tell me? What was it like?"
"It was really sad, Ruth. I can't imagine what I would do under those circumstances, I mean if Agnes fell into a coma. Funny how they say that, a person falls into a coma like they fall asleep. Anyway, I don't think I could stand that."
Ruth nodded and wrapped the twisty tie around her little finger like a ring. "What's he look like?"
"Like he's asleep."
It took a few minutes but I was finally able to satisfy Ruth's curiosity about Walter. I was glad when the telephone rang. It was Zeb.
"Can I pick you up at six, or do you want to just meet me at The Full Moon?" he asked.
I took a breath and let it out through my nose. "Well, Zeb, I was hoping we might go on into Shoops, The Pink Lady is there. I'd like that for a change."
I waited a long uncomfortable minute before Zeb said, "Sh-sh-Sure Griselda, we can do that. Just seems silly when we can get the same food at the Full Moon and not have to pay for it, well not as much anyway."
"But I really want to get out of town a little. It's such a nice day, finally, probably going to be a nice evening. Maybe we can take a walk after around Shoops. They have some nice shops that stay open late. I need some new pots."
"Pots?"
"I threw mine away. I was thinking I'd like to buy new ones."
I could see Zeb shake his head in my mind. "You threw perfectly good pots away?"
"They aren't go
od or perfect. They belonged to my mother for heaven's sake. I want new ones. I don't do much cooking but I was thinking that I might like to start. I was thinking I might like to start cooking for guests, not just myself."
"I guess that makes sense, but old pots are still useful. Maybe you should give them to the Society ladies and let them give them to one of the backwoods families."
"That's a good idea. I think I'll do that, and you know what? I think I'll buy a couple of brand new pots for them to give away also."
Zeb didn't saying anything to counter what I said but I knew he was thinking it.
"So what do you say?" I asked after a few seconds. "Let's drive into Shoops. I bet Stu would even lend you his Caddy for the evening." Zeb drove a beat up old pick-up in worse shape than mine.
"Oh, all right. I'll talk to Stu and be by around six."
I hung up the phone feeling quite pleased with myself. There was something refreshing about taking a stand and refusing to move.
"Good for you," Ruth said. "Now look at the time. You'll want to be getting ready."
"It's not even two-thirty. I'm going on a date. It's not a coronation."
"Oh, I still think I'll get going. I thought I might visit Ivy and see how she's doing with Mickey Mantle."
"That's a good idea. I haven't seen much of her. I saw Mickey Mantle though, rooting around bushes and trash cans. He likes to come by the library on his way to the woods."
"I heard that, too, from Dot Handy. She says the dog is even more curious than Al Capone ever was. I just hope that nasty Eugene Shrapnel doesn't start trouble again."
"Tell Ivy hello for me and that we need to get together soon."
"I will. I'll be sure to tell her."
Zeb arrived at precisely six o'clock. I was standing on the porch waiting for him because if there was one thing Zeb and me had in common it was punctuality. Just as he opened the car door I heard a sound above me like an engine. It was Cliff, at least I figured it must have been Cliff zooming around in the sky in Matilda.
