A Redbird Christmas

by Fannie Flagg

  Roy had no idea who Herbert was and said, “Yes, we’re ready to go here. Come on anytime. Drive her up to the window, keep the motor running, slow down and stop for just a few seconds, then take off.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Frances, in a high-pitched voice. “That will be mighty hard to do.”

  “I know, but I think a few seconds is all we can chance it. Jack looks good, but if she gets too long a look she’s liable to figure it out.”

  “I understand completely. I’ll try my very best,” she said, to the imaginary man. “And Herbert, I’m so glad you are feeling better. Well, goodbye, and thanks for calling.”

  The second she put the phone down, it rang again and she almost jumped out of her skin.

  “Hello!” It was Mildred. “Did you get the message? Roy said to drive by but don’t stop for long.”

  “Yes, I got the message,” she said. “Don’t be calling me now, Mildred. I’ve got to go!”

  Frances was so nervous about the upcoming surgery, and now the bird situation, that she went to the bathroom and nearly plucked every one of her eyebrows out. She had to quickly pencil them back in with a black eyebrow pencil, but when she did they were shaped like upside down half moons. When she saw what she had done, she muttered to herself, “Dear God, I look like a cartoon, but that just can’t be helped. I’m late as it is.” She powdered her nose and fluffed her hair a few times and called out, “Patsy, honey, it’s time to go.” She put Patsy in the backseat of the car with a pillow so she could lie down along the way. Patsy looked worried and asked again, “Can we go by and see Jack now?” Frances pretended not to hear her and reached in and honked her horn for Oswald. He walked over and put his suitcase in the trunk and got in the car. “Good morning, Patsy,” he said, trying to sound casual, but Frances could tell he was as anxious as she was. When Frances came around the other side of the car and got in, she said, “I hope I have everything, I can’t trust myself to remember anything. If I’ve left something, so be it. We have to leave right now or we will never get there on time.” She looked down and checked the gas. “Good, we have a full tank.” Butch had filled it for her last night and thank goodness, because with everything that was going on she would have forgotten to do it. “Well,” she said, “for better or worse, here we go.”

  As she pulled out of the driveway a worried Patsy said, “Can’t I go and say goodbye to Jack?”

  Frances looked at her in the rearview mirror and said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake. In all this rush I almost forgot you wanted to go by and see Jack, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, all right, I’ll whip you by there, but for just a second.”

  Oswald sat completely still, afraid to move a muscle, but he could not help but be impressed by the way Frances managed the sharp turn perfectly and pulled up on the other side of the gas tanks not more than fifteen feet from the front window, and stopped the car on a dime. Roy stood waiting with Jack perched upon his finger, looking as bright and alive as he ever had.

  “Can’t I go in?” asked Patsy.

  “Oh, no, honey. Roy still has the measles. Look at him! You can’t get near him. Not with you just about to be operated on. Just wave, honey,” she said as she stepped on the gas and took off. Patsy turned around and waved at Jack bobbing up and down on Roy’s finger until the store and the little redbird were out of sight. As they turned onto the highway, safely headed to Atlanta, Frances was happy she had worn her dress shields. At one point after they drove off she half expected Patsy to say something, but at the moment she seemed content to at least have seen Jack, even if it had only been for a moment.

  After they had been on the road awhile, Patsy took out her birthday picture with Jack and whispered to it, “I’ll be back . . . you be good now.”

  The Big City

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED in Atlanta and checked Patsy into the hospital, Oswald went to a pay phone. He called Roy and told him that Patsy had been fooled completely and had talked to the picture of Jack all the way. “Honest to God, Roy,” he said, “I know Jack is dead and it even fooled me, when you were standing there. I half expected him to fly!”

  It was true. Julian had done an incredible job that night and Jack had never looked better. Roy picked him up and said, “You pulled off your best trick ever this morning, buddy, and you didn’t even know it.”

  After the phone call, he carefully wrapped Jack in a soft white cloth and placed him inside something he knew Jack would appreciate being buried in. It was to be their last little joke together. Then Roy walked him way back up in the woods and dug a grave and placed the bird in the ground and covered him up. As he stood at the spot, looking down where his friend now slept in a Cracker Jack box, an old song his father used to sing ran through his head.

  Nights are long, since you went away,

  I think about you all through the day,

  My buddy, my buddy, your buddy misses you.

  Roy wondered why a six-foot-two man would cry over something no bigger than a pinecone. Damn you, Jack, he thought to himself as he walked back through the woods, if you were here I’d ring your scrawny little neck.

  Roy was not a religious man, but that day he hoped if there was such a thing as a spirit, a small part of Jack’s had somehow managed to escape and maybe he was up there right now, flying around looking down and laughing at all the poor earthbound creatures below. That would be just like him, Roy thought, and looked up half expecting to see him.

  Frances and Oswald met at the hospital at six the next morning and sat with Patsy as nurses came in and out of the room preparing for the first operation. Oswald was busy drawing pictures for her, trying to distract her and make her laugh, while Frances tried to explain what was going to happen next. Patsy sat up in bed, wearing a hospital gown and her beanie, and seemed to be a little frightened by all the activity, but soon another nurse came in and gave her a shot to relax her and she started to get sleepy. Dr. Glickman opened the door. “Well, good morning, young lady,” he said, as he walked over to the bed. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” she said, slightly groggy.

  “The nurses tell me you gained four pounds since the last time I saw you. That’s just terrific,” he said, and smiled at Frances and Oswald. Then he turned back to Patsy. “In just a little while we’re going to take you down the hall to another room and work on your leg a bit, but you won’t feel a thing and when you wake up everybody will be right here waiting for you.”

  He picked up the photograph of Patsy and Jack from her bedside table. “Is this the bird you were telling me about?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, smiling sleepily.

  “Well, he’s a fine-looking fellow,” he said, patting her arm. “And we are going to get you fixed up as good as new and back home again as fast as we can, OK?”

  “OK.”

  When Frances went out with Dr. Glickman to ask a few last-minute questions a woman came in with papers to sign and asked Oswald if he were the father. “No,” he said.

  “Grandfather?”

  “No, just a friend. The lady you need to see is right down the hall.”

  When Frances came back they went over the papers together and she signed on the line where it said LEGAL GUARDIAN, even though she was not legal. She had just perjured herself on an official document, but as she told Oswald, “If I go to jail, I go to jail. At least Patsy’s leg will be fixed.”

  Oswald’s admiration for Frances grew even more during the long hours they waited. He was as jumpy as a cat and could not sit still for a minute, so he walked up and down the hall. He wanted a drink so badly he was about to jump out of his skin. But he could not leave Frances. He wondered why the nurses don’t give a shot to the people who are waiting for the operation to be over to calm them down?

  While he paced, Frances sat quietly and prayed and waited.

  Everybody in Lost River was waiting to hear as well.

  That afternoon, around one-thirty, when Frances called from the hospit
al to report that the first operation was over, everybody was relieved to hear that Patsy, according to the doctor, came through it “just fine.”

  That night as they were on the elevator leaving the hospital, tired but happy, Frances said to Oswald, “Thank heavens you were here with me. I don’t think I could have gone through this alone.”

  Oswald had been lucky enough to find a room at a YMCA just two blocks from the hospital, and Frances was able to stay with a cousin who lived in Atlanta. They wanted to make sure that someone was with Patsy every day, at least through the next two operations.

  Back in Lost River, everyone was coming to realize just how much a part of their lives Jack had become. They had all gotten used to seeing him flying around, hearing him sing, and ring the bells on his plastic wheel. Everybody missed the bird more than they could have guessed. But the one most struck by just how much she missed him was Mildred. Mildred found out that she had loved Jack as much as anyone, but she had not known how much until he died. She had loved him all along but did not know how to express herself in any way other than complaining.

  A week after he died she went in the store with her head hanging and said, “Roy, I’m here to apologize and ask you to forgive me. I’m so ashamed of myself I just don’t know what to do.”

  “What for?” asked Roy.

  “For being so mean to that poor little crippled bird, always fussing at him, telling him I was going to cook him.” She looked at Roy with tears running down her face. “I don’t know why I did it. I really liked him.”

  Roy said, “Oh, I know you did, Mildred, and so did he. He knew you didn’t mean all those things.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure he did. That’s why he was always pestering you.”

  Mildred looked up. “Do you think so?” she asked hopefully.

  “Oh, I know so. No question about it. You see, Mildred,” said Roy, handing her his handkerchief, “old Jack was a master at judging people, much better than me. One time these two girls I had never seen before came in, and I tried to get Jack to do a few tricks for them, but as hard as I tried he wouldn’t do anything. He just flew around, acting all agitated. And it really made me mad that he acted like that until later, when I found out that while I was busy talking to one girl, the other was back in the office robbing me blind.”

  “Oh, no,” said Mildred.

  “Yeah, they sure did, and Jack tried his best to warn me. He knew they were up to no good. You can fool me, but you couldn’t fool him. I tell you, Mildred, it sure seems empty in here without him. I guess I got so used to having him around I never figured he’d go and die on me, but that’s what life’s about, isn’t it; you get attached to something and then you lose it. Thank God Patsy is making it through those operations, or I don’t know what we would do around here.”

  Mildred went home feeling at least a bit better, but somehow the loss of Jack made her realize that she never wanted to lose another living thing without them knowing how she really felt. From then on, after every phone conversation with Frances she would add, “Love you,” before she hung up.

  At the Hospital

  IT HAD BEEN an anxious few weeks, but everyone was relieved when Oswald and Frances came home with the good news that the last of the operations had gone well. Next would come the long and boring weeks that Patsy would have to spend in the hospital lying flat on her back in a body cast. From then on, every other weekend the Polka Dots would ride up to Atlanta and visit as a group.

  Although he was anxious to get back and visit Patsy, Oswald rode up with them only once. Once was enough. Seated in a car full of women, squashed between his six-foot landlady and Sybil Underwood, having to listen to them talk nonstop all the way to Atlanta and back, was too much for him to bear. After that fateful trip he only went with Frances alone or hitched a ride with Butch. He also rode with Roy, who sometimes went on Sunday and came back Sunday night.

  Everybody brought her games or picture books to try and keep Patsy occupied. Oswald always brought her little drawings that made her laugh, especially the one of him in the car with all the women. One day when the Polka Dots came to visit they were surprised to learn that a delegation from the Dotted Swiss had just been there and presented Patsy with a beautiful hand-sewn quilt for her bed, with GET WELL SOON appliquéd in the middle. Although they were pleased that the Dotted Swiss had come, Betty Kitchen examined the quilt and remarked, “It just galls me to say it, girls, but look at those little stitches. They have us beat in needlework, hands down.” Dottie put on her glasses and looked more closely and had to agree. Mildred said, “Maybe so, but you have to admit nobody can beat Frances’s macaroni and cheese; we always have that, not to mention our floating island. “And,” added Sybil, “I know we are not to blow our own horn, but don’t forget the tomato aspic.” “Ah,” they all said, nodding, and felt better about the whole thing. Patsy suddenly giggled in the bed. Frances walked over and squeezed her big toe with affection. “What’s so funny, young lady?”

  “Tomato aspic,” she said, and giggled again.

  Finally, the day came when the cast was removed. Now, according to the doctor, came the hardest part, the long months of therapy. The goal was to improve Patsy’s range of motion more each day and eventually get her back up on her feet and walking. But walking again was not going to be easy. They had to change her gait completely from what it had been before and retrain all the muscles.

  Her physical therapy nurse was a pretty, dark-eyed woman named Amelia Martinez, who was impressed with the way Patsy tried so hard and never complained through the long grueling hours of painful exercise. One day, when Patsy was in water therapy, Amelia pulled Frances aside. “You know, Mrs. Cleverdon, she’s the bravest little girl I have ever worked with. With all the pain we have had to put her through . . . well, let’s put it this way. I’ve seen grown men cry over less. Dr. Glickman told me he’d never seen anybody improve so fast in all his life.” Then she smiled and waved at Patsy. “That little girl wants to get better and go home.”

  During Patsy’s therapy everyone came to visit as often as they could, and when they were not able to be there in person, they all sent her cards and letters that Amelia would read to her. Amelia soon got to know everybody in Lost River by their letters. Each time Frances and Oswald came to visit they were pleased Patsy was doing so well, but still her first question was always, “How is Jack?” and of course they always said, “Just fine,” and felt terrible about it. But what else could they do? All that mattered now was that she was improving. Even though all the strengthening exercises she was put through each day were painful and exhausting, they were starting to work. She was now able to walk a few feet without support. As far as Patsy was concerned, each new step was just one step closer to getting home to see Jack.

  ALONG THE RIVER

  The Lost River

  Community Association Newsletter

  Fall is here, and it’s hard to believe that old Father Time is in such a hurry. Seems like it was only yesterday when summer arrived, but “tempus fugit,” as they say, and Thanksgiving is around the corner. And we have a lot to be thankful for in our community this year, as the news from Atlanta is still very positive and Patsy’s therapy continues to go well. All good things come to those who wait, and we can hardly wait until our own Miss Patsy is back home again. Don’t forget to start planning for potluck and get those pumpkin pies and turkeys ready to go!

  —Dottie Nivens

  The days passed and Patsy’s future was looking brighter. Amelia continued to report that she was making great progress. Even Mildred seemed to be getting happier but as fate will sometimes do, it threw Mildred a curve in the form of a letter from her old lost love, Billy Jenkins, who wrote telling her that he was now a widower and would love to see her again. And, surprise of all surprises, Mildred told Frances she was going to drive up to Chattanooga and visit him. It was the last thing in the world Frances figured she would ever do, but as she so often said, with Mildred you neve
r knew which way she was going to jump from one minute to the next.

  She had left on Friday and it was already Tuesday, and Frances had not heard one word from her the entire time and didn’t know what to think. Then, around four that afternoon, Mildred pulled into the driveway. She could hardly wait to see her sister. She threw open the front door and yelled, “Frances, I’m back!”

  The minute Frances saw her she knew something big had happened. There was a glow about Mildred as she stood there wearing a new lavender pants suit, and she looked younger and prettier than she had in years. With her face flushed with excitement, she exclaimed, “I’ve got news!”

  Frances felt her heart start to pound. “Oh, dear, do I need to sit down?” she asked, then sat down anyway.

  After she was seated, Mildred announced, “Well, I saw him.”

  “And . . .”

  “And Frances, I am the luckiest woman alive!”

  Frances put her hand up to her mouth. “Oh, my God. I don’t believe it, after all these years.”

  “I don’t believe it either. I have dodged a bullet. Thank the Good Lord that the idiot got cold feet and I didn’t get stuck with him. The man is a perfect fool. What I ever saw in him is beyond me.”

  “What?”

  “You know what he wanted, don’t you? He wanted a nurse and a cook and even had the nerve to ask me how big my house was and how much money I was getting a month from Social Security. Then he showed me a picture of his six daughters, and Frances, that was the ugliest bunch of women I have ever seen. They all looked like him in bad dresses. When I saw that I thought to myself, I could have been looking at my own children. Then he wanted to know if I had enough room for his granddaughter, who is just out of drug rehab, and her four kids to come and live with us. They need a mother, he said.”

  Frances was flabbergasted. “Oh, my word. What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘Billy, you broke my heart and ruined my life, and you want me to take you back now that you are old and all worn out, move into my house, and have me cook and clean for six people?’ I said, ‘Well, you are going to have to look around some more to find that fool, because it’s not going to be me.’ And then I left.”