Dear Hank Williams (14 page)

The last part of the letter was the hardest because it was about Frog. I spilled my true feelings all over that page. I told him how I'd been so upset that Momma wasn't here last summer when Frog had his accident. I'd needed her then more than any time in my life, and when she didn't show up I didn't answer any of her letters or postcards. What happened to Frog wasn't Momma's fault or mine. I know that now, but we needed to see each other through that hard time. And in closing I told the judge I didn't see how a person making one mistake like driving a car for someone like Elroy Broussard should be kept from being a momma to me.

By the time Mrs. Applebud's rooster crowed, I knew I was going to sing in the talent show. And never mind that I'd been practicing “Wildwood Flower” for months. I was going to sing Frog's favorite song, “You Are My Sunshine.” This was the right song. I knew it all the way down to my toes.

At breakfast I announced my decision to Aunt Patty Cake. She was so happy I'd changed my mind about dropping out of the talent show that she said, “Come on. Let's go to the Kizers' and make a telephone call.” The Kizers had the only phone within a mile from us. Sure enough, Mr. Kizer was doing his crossword puzzle, and Mrs. Kizer was listening to
Queen for a Day
. But they seemed more interested in what Aunt Patty Cake was saying to Miss Mildred. “Tate has decided to sing ‘You Are My Sunshine,' so please bring that sheet music instead.”

I don't know what Miss Mildred said, but it sure made Aunt Patty Cake mad, because she told her, “Mildred Dupree, I don't care what you think about Tate's new song, I expect you to play it. Unless you don't know how to play that song. If you don't, then I'll arrange for another accompanist.” And then Aunt Patty Cake said something I never thought I'd hear her admit. “My niece, Jordie June, the lead singer of the Goree Girls, has a lot of connections. I'm sure she knows every talented pianist in the parish.” Well, that's all Aunt Patty Cake had to say.

The next day, at the talent show, wouldn't you know, Verbia Calhoon went first. Mrs. Calhoon probably arranged it so that the judges would forget how bad Verbia's singing was and only remember her golden curls. I was glad I wasn't first, but I sure didn't want to be last, which was exactly when I was scheduled. Though I did get to move up a spot because Lenny Robbins locked his knees during his harmonica performance and fainted a minute into his song.

When I walked onto the stage, I stood behind the microphone, gazed out, and spotted Mrs. Applebud. She'd dozed through Verbia's song but now was wide awake. From her bench she gave me a small nod. Aunt Patty Cake sat to her right, straight as an ironing board. Next to her, Uncle Jolly and Garnett held hands, watching me. Then those lovesick hounds turned to each other at that exact moment and smiled. Seeing my family in the audience, I knew I'd make it through the song. And even though Frog wasn't sitting out there, I felt like he was near me.

Funny, I don't remember hearing the words when I sang. Does that ever happen to you? All that was going through my head were the good times—Momma and me singing in bed, Uncle Jolly taking me to the circus, modeling for Aunt Patty Cake, getting Lovie, and riding bicycles with Frog. I reckon you could say the best of my life was wrapped up in that song. Now, standing on that stage, I knew exactly what Zion meant about singing from the heart.

I'm almost forgetting to tell you—I won first place in the singing category! And that wasn't the best part of the day.

Your fan and First-Place Winner of the Rippling Creek May Festival Talent Contest,

Tate P.

PS—The best part of the day was when they called my name as the first-place winner and Verbia Calhoon got all confused. She stood like they called her name. Why, she beat me to the stage! You should have seen her face when she realized it was Tate P. Ellerbee's name they announced.

PPS—The second-best part was Mrs. Calhoon's face when she learned it too.

PPPS—And Miss Mildred's.

 

May 15, 1949

Dear Mr. Williams,

A
UNT
P
ATTY
C
AKE
continues to surprise me. Yesterday she told me to get into the car, as we needed to make one more delivery.

“Whose delivery?” I asked.

“We're going to see Constance.”

Without saying a word, I hightailed it to the car.

We drove up the road and crossed the bridge that stretches over No-Name Creek. Then the gravel road turned into a dirt one that winded through the woods until it met up with a cleared piece of land with about a dozen wood-frame houses. A couple of little girls were drawing in the dirt with a stick, and a few people sat on their porches. Aunt Patty Cake drove up to a white house with blue curtains hanging in the windows.

Constance and Zion came outside to meet us. “I've been looking forward to that bottle of jasmine bubble bath,” Constance said.

Aunt Patty Cake laughed, but I knew she was a little uneasy. She'd looked around after stepping out of the car.

Constance motioned her into the house, and I stayed outside with Zion.

I felt nervous myself, not because we were in Pine Bend, but because I needed to set Zion straight about Frog. I wasn't sure how to do it. I stalled some, telling her about Lovie's puppies and winning first place in the contest. Then I took a big breath and blurted, “Frog is in heaven.”

Zion said, “I know.”

That nearly knocked me over. “You know?”

“Mm-hm. Momma and me went to his funeral. I thought you be pretending he be here, like an angel. But my momma didn't like me pretending.”

I guess that's why Constance popped Zion on the behind that day. I was about to ask her why she never let me know, but Zion has a short attention span.

“You think you could give me one of them puppies?”

Some folks like to get on with things and not harp on the past. Clearly Zion Washington is one of them. She'll have to get behind Uncle Jolly for a puppy. He's trying to size up which one will be a good hunting buddy. He dangles a squirrel tail in front of them and waits to see which puppy takes notice. So far none of them have paid it any mind.

On the drive home, I asked Aunt Patty Cake if we'd be going back to Pine Bend.

“Not to take any orders,” she said. “Constance told me she needed a job, and I told her she should think about being a representative for Delightfully Devine Beauty Products. Her neighbors could be her customers.”

“But you'd be giving up some of your territory.”

Aunt Patty Cake rolled down her window. “I'll be fine,” she said.

A breeze blew through the car. Tiny hairs around Aunt Patty Cake's forehead waved, softening her face. Her cheeks had a tinge of pink that wasn't from Forever Rose rouge. She rested her elbow in the open window and started to hum. For the first time, I could imagine that young girl dancing with that Ville Platte boy in the rain. I could picture it as clear as I could see the longleaf pines brush the setting sun as we made our way back home.

There were two packages waiting for us at the house. They were too big to put inside the mailbox, so they'd been left on the screened porch. One was for Aunt Patty Cake and the other was for me!

“Let's pretend it's Christmas and take turns opening them,” I said.

Aunt Patty Cake went first. While she tore the package open, I studied the outside of mine. It had all kinds of blue-and-red stamps that looked familiar. Then I realized why. They looked like the stamps Theo Grace and Coolie got on their pen pals' envelopes. This package was from Japan!

Inside Aunt Patty Cake's box were dozens of Delightfully Devine products. She looked confused. “I didn't order these.” Then she opened the envelope and read. Her mouth twitched. “Oh well.” She tucked the letter back into the envelope. “Didn't win the contest, but I got second prize.”

I told her I was sorry. Then I dug through her second-place prize. There was every Delightfully Devine product. I held up one of the boxes. “Aunt Patty Cake, have you ever thought of using Magical Mascara? I'll bet a few coats would bring out your blue eyes.”

She laughed and tapped on my package. “Your turn.”

When I opened mine, I discovered a card from Keiko saying how she hoped we could be good friends when she moved to Louisiana soon. There was also a present wrapped in floral paper. It was beautiful, I hated to rip it. So I took my time unwrapping it, carefully lifting the tape.

I was so slow, Aunt Patty Cake said, “Hurry, hurry.” She'd already forgotten about not winning that contest.

When I got past all the tissue paper, I saw it.

“What the heck is that?” Aunt Patty Cake asked.

“It's a carp streamer,” I said, holding it up. How could someone who didn't know me at all send me the most perfect gift?

I explained to Aunt Patty Cake, “It represents a Japanese story about a carp that was so strong, he swam upstream and became a dragon.” I might not be a dragon, but ever since Momma left and Frog died, I'd felt like I'd been trying to swim upstream. And like that carp in the story, I'd made it to the other side.

Seeing the world unfold before my very eyes,

Tate P.

 

June 5, 1949

Dear Mr. Williams,

C
ONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR
new baby boy! I'll bet you'll be a great daddy. He might grow up and be a singer like you.

I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed your farewell performance on the
Louisiana Hayride.
And guess what? I didn't hear it on the radio. I was
there
at the Shreveport Municipal Auditorium. I was the girl sitting smack in the middle of the fifth row. I'm pretty sure you saw me, because you looked my way a lot. I kept wondering, You reckon Mr. Hank Williams knows it's me? But how could you? You don't even know what I look like except that I have plain brown hair and brown eyes and kind of look like my momma (whom you've never seen). So this time I'm sending you a picture of me. That way your curiosity about that girl sitting smack in the middle of the fifth row will be solved. By the way, Aunt Patty Cake says you're prettier in person.

Two days before the show, Uncle Jolly surprised us with tickets. Garnett said she'd never been north of Natchitoches, so she thought the drive alone was an adventure. Garnett is looking different these days, or at least her left hand is. That's right. Uncle Jolly found him a woman that sticks. Aunt Patty Cake forgot about her decision to never sew again and offered to make the wedding dress. Garnett said her yellow suit would do just fine.

You'll be proud to know that I'm taking voice lessons, but I'm not taking them from Miss Mildred. No sirree. Momma wrote that Lulu would be the perfect choice. And Aunt Patty Cake agreed as long as Lulu made a pact not to groom me for the honky-tonk joints (although she didn't say anything about not learning honky-tonk songs).

The best news of all is the judge split Momma's sentence in half. Momma will be home in less than a year. It will be a hard wait, but time is flying and she'll be here before I know it. Aunt Patty Cake says she thinks my letter made a big difference. Until Momma is here, I read her postcards. I've taped every single one on my bedroom walls. Just looking at them makes me feel like she's giving me a great big hug.

Mr. Williams, you're very famous now. The great state of Louisiana will miss you, and so will I. I'll listen to you on the
Grand Ole Opry
and write you when I can. But I hope you won't be disappointed if you don't hear from me as often. My life is busy these days—voice lessons, my cosmetics-modeling job, writing to Keiko, and taking care of Lovie.

Lovie still hasn't barked, but her puppies make up for that. They are yappers! Uncle Jolly picked the noisiest one for his future squirrel dog.

Sometimes Aunt Patty Cake, Lovie, and me go on Mrs. Applebud's cemetery walks. We pay our respects to Mr. Applebud and Frog. On those days, we take them fresh flowers. Aunt Patty Cake says she's not the crying type, but I've seen her pull a handkerchief out of her dress pocket and dab at her eyes. “Those longleaf pines make my eyes water,” she claims, but I know she's missing Frog. I know because my eyes water on those cemetery walks too, and it has nothing to do with pine-tree sap.

I try not to dwell on it, but sometimes I think about the things Frog is missing. He'll never know Garnett, play hide-and-seek with Zion, or learn Japanese from Keiko. And he would have loved Lovie as much as I do. I know he would.

Aunt Patty Cake says, “Our loved ones are always with us even after they pass on.”

I think that's true, because Canton Cemetery is not where I feel the closest to Frog. I feel his spirit whenever I'm in the places we shared together. I don't see him, but I know he's there.

When I'm riding my bicycle, Lovie likes to follow me. Sometimes I pedal hard and fast like Frog loved to do. I remember him wearing those boots because he thought it made him feel closer to our daddy and how he liked my singing even when it wasn't coming from my heart. And when the wind beats against my face, swear to sweet Sally, I can hear my little brother whispering in my ear, “Whatcha, whatcha?”

So long for now.

Your #1 fan forever,

Tate P. Ellerbee

 

Author's Note

Research plays an important part in my writing. Not only does it help me to get the facts straight, it also serves as inspiration for some of the storylines. The process is not unlike a spider spinning her web: Each thread offers a dimension to the story. The following are some of the threads that created Tate's web and became the book
Dear Hank Williams
.

World War II and the Red Scare.
When I was researching for Tate's story, I needed to understand what it was like to live in postwar America. World War II was the deadliest war in history. More than fifty million people died, many of them civilians.