Griselda Takes Flight

by Joyce Magnin

  Cliff put his arm across the back of my seat and inched closer. He took my chin in his hand and kissed me. I tried to pull away but stopped myself as he pulled me even closer. I had never been kissed quite like that. I thought I should have felt something more than I did, something sweeter but instead my mind turned to Zeb standing on my porch waiting in the cold for me to wake up so he could ask me to marry him.

  40

  I'm sorry, Cliff," I said. "But—"

  "Zeb?"

  "Yeah, Zeb."

  "You gonna marry him?"

  I pushed open the door. "He should be the first to know that."

  Ivy was at the library with Mickey Mantle. He looked good. She had finally taken the bandage off. The stump resembled a trussed up chicken breast full of stuffing and ready for a roasting.

  "He looks great," I said.

  "Him? He's doing fine. Like he doesn't even miss the leg. But he's been a little off in other ways."

  I unlocked the library door. "Come on inside. It's chilly."

  Ivy and Mickey Mantle followed me to the main counter. I dropped my handbag. "I'll put the heat up."

  "OK, thanks, Griselda. That's why I came by today."

  "For the heat?"

  "No, for Mickey Mantle's other problem. Do you have any books on dog stuff, like what makes them tick?"

  "Um, you mean for training? That I have."

  "No. More like to help me figure out what's going on inside of his head."

  "Oh, you mean dog psychology."

  "That's right. Dog psychology."

  My brow wrinkled. "I don't even know if there is such a thing. But we can look. Are you worried?"

  "Kind of. I let him out and he stays in the yard. He doesn't want to leave, and I know he must be missing his girlfriend."

  "Oh, Ivy, you don't need a book. He's a little afraid that's all. He's afraid of another trap. I bet if you take him for walks back there, near where his accident happened, he'll come around."

  "You think so?"

  "I do."

  "Maybe I should do that now. Take him into the woods and see what happens."

  "Yes, but keep him on his leash. In case he gets spooked and goes running."

  "OK, but I swear, Griselda, I think something should be done about those traps back there. What if it had been a child that got caught?"

  "You're right. Let's bring it up at the next town meeting."

  I finished my business at the library that day and decided to go to the Full Moon. I doubted Zeb would speak to me, but I needed to find a way to make him understand that I only needed some time.

  Babette Sturgis was in for Dot who was out with a cold.

  "Yeah, Zeb made her go home," Babette said. "He didn't want her sneezing all over the food or the customers. So he called me in. Course Mama was mad on account I should be studying, but this is fine. I brought my book."

  "That's good, Babette. You can always study some in between customers."

  "That's right, now what can I get you, Miss Griselda?"

  "Oh, maybe just a cup of tea. Where's Zeb?"

  "Oh, he'll be right in. He went out to the storeroom for more cheese."

  She slid a cup of hot water on a saucer with a tea bag toward me. "You take cream in that?"

  I nodded. "And maybe a slice of pie. Do you have any of the Charlotte Figg pie?"

  "Sure thing. Blueberry or cherry or, say, she just dropped off two peach pies. It is delicious. Zeb's been giving her some test runs. Sells out each and every time." She leaned over the counter and whispered, "He's only a little put out by it."

  "That sounds good, maybe put a little bit of vanilla ice cream next to it."

  I watched the kitchen until I saw Zeb.

  "Hello," I called.

  He looked but barely acknowledged me.

  "You know we need to talk," I said.

  "We got nothing to say."

  "Don't be that way." Babette placed my pie in front of me.

  "Please, Zeb. We need to talk. I don't think I explained myself very well."

  "You said no. That was plain as it can get."

  "No—"

  "There, you said it again."

  "That's not what I meant. Now please will you come to my house after you close up?"

  Babette gave me a long look.

  "You two on the outs?" she whispered.

  "Sort of. But not really."

  Ruth and Studebaker came into the diner.

  "Hey, Griselda," Stu said. "Heard you had quite a time at Greenbrier with that Gilda and all."

  I turned on the stool. "Yeah, but it all worked out for the best."

  "I knew that woman was up to no good," Ruth said. "I can tell these things. I knew she was just after his money."

  Ruth and Stu took a booth near the front of the café.

  "Too bad the treasure turned out to be hoax," Stu said. "He must be pretty upset. Imagine that, he could have died over nothing. Over nothing but an IOU, a great big joke."

  "But he didn't," Ruth said. "God saw fit to spare him. Come on, Griselda, join us. Boris is on his way over."

  "Boris? He might not want to see me," I said.

  "Oh, he's OK. More embarrassed than anything."

  "Ah, he was just smitten with that Gilda woman, that's all," Ruth said. "But true enough, he could have married them and then where would they be? Having no money is bad enough. But no money and no true love, well that something else."

  Babette poured coffee and set straws on the table for water. She took their orders.

  "Coming right up."

  It didn't seem my place to tell them that Walter was actually a rich man so I kept quiet and let them suppose what they wanted to suppose and ate my pie. Babette was right. The peaches were tender, cooked to peachy perfection. A kind of sweet perfume was released with each bite and lingered a second in my mouth before I swallowed the bite. The crust was flaky and melted like butter.

  That evening, Zeb came by the house as promised. He changed out of his greasy short-order-cook clothing and put on a clean flannel shirt. He even shaved and dabbed a few drops of aftershave on that smelled nice, like winter.

  We stood in the kitchen and talked. He stood near the back door. I stood by the sink. I thought he was going to explode when I told him that Cliff kissed me. But he simmered down when I said it didn't mean anything.

  "He's more interested in being romantic with me. I just like his airplane."

  Zeb smiled. "You mean it, Grizzy? You're mine? All mine?"

  I nodded and let him kiss me and this time my toes curled in my Keds and my stomach felt funny, kind of wobbly but in a good way. And then my left leg lifted slightly just like my mother's did when she kissed my father.

  "So, what do you say," Zeb asked. "Will you?"

  "What?"

  "Come on, you know. Will you marry me?"

  "Oh, Zeb, no I won't marry you."

  He backed away from me. "But I don't get it. You just said—we kissed. It was—"

  I put a finger to his lips. "Nice. It was very nice. I'd like you to kiss me again. But I'm just not ready to get married. I feel like I've just been let out of a kind of prison, not in a bad way, but you know with taking care of Agnes and the flying, Zeb. I need to fly some more."

  "You can be married and still fly."

  "No I can't. I need to do this for me. And I think, in a way, for us. Two people can't have a marriage with a whole blue sky between them."

  A week went by and Walter continued to improve. So much so he was released a couple of days before Thanksgiving and went home to Stella's. Stella invited Zeb and me for Thanksgiving dinner—turkey, roasted to golden brown poultry perfection, mashed potatoes, peas, homemade cranberry sauce, biscuits, gravy, and of course, pies. One of Charlotte Figg's peach pies, a pumpkin that was not made from Bertha Ann, and two lattice-top cherry pies. At first Zeb was jealous that Stella didn't serve a Full Moon pie, but he got over it.

  "I've decided that I'm gonna carry Charlotte Figg's pies
in the café full time," he said.

  Walter and Nate were getting along fine, like two brothers should. Walter actually knew quite a lot about pumpkins and now that the cat was out of the bag and Nate knew his brother-in-law was rich there was talk of building a laboratory in the backyard dedicated to the study of jumbo pumpkins.

  Cliff was there and enjoyed himself even asking Zeb if it was OK if he continued to teach me to fly.

  "Just don't fly her over those mountains," Zeb said. "She needs to do that herself."

  I squeezed Zeb's hand. "I'll fly back. I promise."

  Discussion Questions

  Nate Kincaid blamed Agnes for his marital and pumpkin problems. He says she stopped praying and he and Stella started bickering and trouble came to the pumpkin patch. What do you think was the real root of their struggles?

  Stella and her brother had not spoken for many years. When she learned he was in the nursing home she had to make a decision: see him or not? Have you ever had to make similar decision with a family member?

  Griselda was finally able to confront Agnes about some issues. How did that make you feel? Did you cheer her on or question her?

  Griselda decided to take flying lessons. Why do you think she jumped at the opportunity?

  Sometimes a person really does need to lose the life they thought they wanted to find the life God meant for them. Is this what Stella was finally able to do?

  Stella never learned to drive a car or the tractor on the farm. She thought it was too difficult. But did Stella learn to fly in her own way? How does this differ with Griselda?

  Griselda seemed attracted to the pilot, Cliff Cardwell. Was it him she liked or what he represented?

  At one point, Griselda said that when she was flying all her troubles seemed smaller, further away. Talk about what it means to gain a new perspective on a problem. How do you do that?

  Why do you suppose Griselda turned down Zeb's marriage proposal? What was she really looking for? In the end she said she'll fly back to him. Do you think she will?

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