Dollbaby: A Novel (29 page)

A
funeral was held for Purnell Trout at the True Love Baptist Church a few days later. When Fannie and Ibby arrived, the funeral procession was about a block away from the church.

The grand marshal, dressed in a black tuxedo and a peaked hat, was leading the procession, taking slow, measured steps. A group of men in black pants and white shirts with bow ties marched behind him, playing “Just a Closer Walk with Thee.” Ibby spotted T-Bone alongside a trumpet player, just behind a man beating a large drum with “Excelsior Brass Band” painted in gold on the side. T-Bone’s arm moved as if it were an extension of his instrument, his cheeks puffing out as he blew into the trombone with his eyes closed and his head bent low.

Following closely behind was a group of men wearing pastel suits and sashes embroidered with “The Duke of Wellington’s Walking Club.” Crow was leading the group in a cotton-candy-pink suit set off by a sash edged with pink and blue satin roses and a pink bowler hat. He looked proud as he waved a fan decorated with pink and black ostrich feathers.

Doll was following them, her arm around Queenie’s shoulders, and Birdelia walked alongside, holding Queenie’s hand. Behind them, two white stallions in heavy black harnesses pulled a magnificent black
carriage on wooden wheels. As it rolled by, Ibby noticed the side of the carriage was inset with a large oval plate-glass window, the coffin on full display just inside.

The church was standing room only by the time they got in the door. The sickeningly sweet smell of lilies filled the air as the band members spread out along the altar behind the minister, the open casket sitting on a gurney in the middle of the aisle just in front of them.

The church was stuffy. The woman next to Ibby was fanning herself furiously. Just as the door to the church closed and the Reverend Jeremiah was about to begin the service, Doll turned and scanned the audience. She put her hand up.

“One moment, Reverend.”

He glanced up from his Bible as Doll made her way up the aisle.

When she got to the back, she called over the crowd, “Miss Fannie! Miss Ibby! You come with me. Family sits up front.”

“Don’t mind us,” Fannie said, trying to wave her away.

The whole church turned to see what was happening.

“Come on, Miss Fannie,” Doll insisted.

“Oh, all right.” Fannie sheepishly scooted past the people along the back wall.

Ibby followed Fannie down the aisle as the congregation whispered among themselves. As soon as they took their seats, the Reverend Jeremiah cleared his throat, and the murmur began to subside. The church became so quiet that Ibby could hear Fannie breathing next to her.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Fannie,” Reverend Jeremiah said.

Fannie gave a brief nod, keeping her gaze on her hands folded in her lap.

From her vantage point in the front row, Ibby had a close-up view of the body in the casket. She tried to look away but couldn’t help but notice a metal saucer perched on Purnell’s chest.

“What is that for?” Ibby whispered to Fannie.

Fannie bent over close to her ear. “In the old days, it was a custom
to put a saucer filled with salt on the chest of a corpse to keep the body from purging.”

“Purging?”

“After people die, sometimes the body fluids come out.”

“Come out where?”

Fannie gave her a sideways glance. “Wherever they can, dear.”

Ibby’s attention was soon drawn to Reverend Jeremiah’s magical voice.

“Brother Purnell’s time in this hard cruel world is over,” he began. “No longer will he be sitting in the back of the plane, flying coach. No, brothers and sisters, Brother Purnell, he’s flying first-class now, swaggering up to the pearly gates in all his glory.”

“Amen,” the congregation said.

“Brother Purnell had a short life that did not do justice to all that he was, all that he stood for. He was a proud soul, not one to back down easily in the face of adversity. I draw your attention to the Second Corinthians, chapter eleven, verse nineteen. It says, ‘For ye suffer fools gladly, seeing ye yourselves are wise.’ A fitting eulogy for our Brother Purnell, don’t you think? As we all know, Purnell Trout was not one to suffer fools gladly. What I want to say to you, my brothers and sisters, is that we are all fools, in our own ways. You know what I’m saying? But I tell you now, that it is in this very folly, this naked truth, that we find the basis of our affection, and even respect, for one another—”

“Respect!” someone shouted.

Ibby looked over to find Queenie rocking back and forth with her eyes closed, moaning.

“Goodbye, Purnell,” she mumbled. Then every once in a while, she’d cry out, “My baby!”

Ibby fanned herself with her hand, just as the Reverend Jeremiah opined about the scourge of murders that had overtaken the city and how needless and unnecessary it all was. Ibby looked up, drawn by the preacher’s fiery tone. T-Bone was sitting just behind him, and his eyes
met hers. She didn’t know how long he had been staring at her. She smiled back, lowering her head so no one would notice that she was blushing.

As the preacher raised his hands, the sleeves of his robe flapped like angel wings. “I ask you God Almighty to take this boy into your arms.”

With that, Queenie got up, walked over to the casket, and began sprinkling white powder all over the body, before taking her seat again.

“Why did she do that?” Ibby whispered to Fannie.

Fannie leaned in. “I believe that’s baking powder. She wants to make sure Purnell rises up to Judgment Day.”

When the Reverend Jeremiah finished his sermon, T-Bone stood and played a solo on his trombone. The congregation clapped and sang along to “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”

Queenie stood once again and went over to the casket. When the reverend nodded, she bent over and kissed Purnell on the lips.

“Goodbye, my baby,” she said as she touched his hand.

Then she began wailing so loudly that Reverend Jeremiah came over and put his arm around her. Doll and Birdelia went and stood beside her. Then the whole congregation filtered into the aisles, waiting in line to view the casket.

Fannie nudged Ibby. “Follow Birdelia.”

Doll leaned over and kissed Purnell on the cheek. Birdelia did the same.

Ibby looked back at Fannie with alarm. “Am I supposed to kiss him?”

“Just touch his hand and move on,” Fannie said.

Ibby held her breath, closed her eyes. She reached into the casket, feeling for Purnell’s jacket because she didn’t want to touch his hand, but instead of fabric, her hand fell on something hard. She opened her eyes to find her fingers on his nose. Horrified, she hurried up the aisle, her heart beating fast.

After the last of the congregation paid their respects, the pall-bearers lifted the casket and carried it out of the church. Once outside, the band started to play “When the Saints Go Marching In.”
The
pallbearers raised the casket into the air and began shaking it to the beat of the music.

“What are they doing?” Ibby asked.

“They’re giving Purnell one last dance,” Fannie said. “We all deserve one last dance, don’t you think, darling?”

A dark cloud made its way across the sky as the pallbearers put the casket in the waiting carriage. A light sprinkle fell around them, but people didn’t seem to mind. They danced in the rain behind the carriage that was rolling slowly toward the cemetery, waving white handkerchiefs.

Ibby was about to follow along, but Fannie held her back.

“Aren’t we going to the cemetery?” she asked.

“No, dear. This is one time I think we should just let them be.”

W
hen Mr. Henry came by the next day, Fannie placed a sizable wager that the National League would win the All-Star Game. They were busy watching the game that afternoon when Ibby heard the back door open.

When she got to the kitchen, she found Queenie putting her purse away in a drawer and Doll picking up a broom from the utility closet.

“What are y’all doing here? I thought you’d take some time off after . . .” Ibby wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

Queenie shook her head. “Life ain’t no cakewalk, baby.”

Ibby went over and hugged Queenie. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, but we got to move on. You got to dance even when there ain’t no music.” Queenie paused. “
Especially
when there ain’t no music. You know what I’m saying? Besides, we just come by this afternoon to make sure you all doing okay. We’ll be back tomorrow for good.”

“Willie Mays gets an unearned run!” Fannie screamed from the front room.

“She must be in there watching the All-Star Game,” Doll said. “She never misses that.”

Queenie opened the icebox. “Mr. Henry been by with the groceries, I see.”

Her words were cut short by the sound of the tree scraping against the house.

“I thought that tree looked like it was leaning more than usual when we walked up the driveway just now,” Doll said.

“It’s been making a lot of noise the last few days,” Ibby said. “I said something to Fannie, but she said it had been that way ever since Hurricane Betsy and not to worry about it.”

Doll nodded. “Sure, that hurricane’s when that tree started to lean, back in 1965, but it’s been getting worse every year since.”

Queenie looked up at the ceiling. “Listen. Don’t it sound different somehow?”

Doll turned an ear toward it. “You right, Mama. That old tree, I think it about had it. That’s what it’s trying to say.”

“It’s been saying that for a long time,” Queenie said. “I got other things I got to tend to than listening to that old tree, like figuring out what we got in the icebox so I can make dinner. Saw some eggplant and tomatoes in the yard. What else we got?” She stuck her head into the icebox.

“I’ll be up in the sewing room if you need me.” Doll left the kitchen.

Ibby went back in the front parlor to watch the game with Fannie. After a little while, Queenie brought them a snack.

“When did you get here?” Fannie asked.

“A little while ago,” Queenie said. “Just came around to make you some dinner. We be back tomorrow, same as usual.”

When she turned to go, Fannie said, “Queenie?”

“Yes, Miss Fannie?” She had one hand on the kitchen door.

“Glad you’re back.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Fannie. Glad to be back,” she said as the door swung closed behind her.

The sound of the tree scraping the house was getting so loud, Fannie had to turn the volume up on the television.

“Damn tree,” Fannie said. “Remind me to tell Crow to trim it next week, will you, Ibby?”

“Hank Aaron up to bat,” the announcer said.

“That’s my boy.” Fannie leaned in closer to the TV.

Doll came running down the stairs, screaming, “This it! This it! This it!”

“What is she going on about?” Fannie turned up the volume on the TV to drown out Doll.

Ibby followed Doll into the kitchen where she found her waving her hands around.

“This is it, Mama!” Doll said.

Queenie looked up at the ceiling. “That noise. It ain’t stopping.”

The moaning became louder and more drawn out until it gave way to sets of pops that sounded like champagne bottles being opened, then a loud squeal that was so shrill Ibby had to put her hands over her ears.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Doll hollered.

In the next second, glass shattered and wood split as the giant tree came crashing down.

“Where’s Miss Fannie at?” Queenie’s voice was panicky. “She didn’t follow you in here?”

“No. She’s still up front,” Ibby said.

The three of them looked at one another, afraid of what they might find when they opened the door.

The only sound in the house now was the blare from the announcer’s voice on the television: “Tony Oliva just hit one off the left-field fence. . . . Will he be able to pull off a home run today?”

When they peeked into the front room, they could see the back of Fannie’s head. She was still sitting on the couch but was pinned on either side by two branches that had forced their way through the front window.

“Think she’s okay?” Queenie whispered. “She’s awful quiet.”

The three of them tiptoed into the room to find Fannie peering from behind the tree limbs like a caged bird. Ibby put her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh, but the way Fannie kept peeping from behind the branches, Ibby couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing.

“Miss Fannie, you done got yourself in a pickle.” Queenie slapped her knee and bent over, giggling.

“Sure enough,” Doll snorted. “Don’t know how you gone get out of this one.”

“Glad y’all think this is so funny.” Fannie glared, although she was trying hard not to laugh herself. “Anybody going to do something, or you all plan to keep me in here all day?”

“I don’t know. What ya think, Mama? Maybe we should let her stew in there awhile.”

Fannie switched the channels back and forth on the television. “At least it didn’t hurt the TV.”

“Thank God,” Queenie said between laughs. “Don’t know what we would a done then.”

Ibby’s pocketbook was on the hall table. She retrieved her Polaroid camera from it, then came back into the room. “Fannie, look this way.”

Fannie put up her hand as Ibby snapped a photo. “Stop!”

“Queenie and Doll, get over there by Fannie so I can take a picture.”

Queenie got as close as she could and made a clown face while Doll pointed at Fannie. Fannie’s mouth was wide open, and she was saying, “No, please don’t do that,” as Ibby took the picture.

“Do something quick! I need to whiz like a racehorse,” Fannie said.

“I’ll get you a pot,” Queenie chuckled.

Ibby went over and stuck her head out the front door. The old tree looked like a sleeping giant that had eased itself to the ground and rolled toward the house for a final rest.

“Doll, I hate to tell you this,” Ibby called out, “but some of the limbs may have pushed themselves into your sewing room.”

Doll came out onto the porch. A good portion of the tree was blocking the driveway and spilling over into the neighbors’ yard, and a hole the size of a small swimming pool gaped where the tree had uprooted itself.

Doll pointed at the house next door. “Mr. Jeffreys, he gone be
mighty mad when he come home and find he can’t get in his driveway. He’s been after Miss Fannie to cut that tree down for years.”

“Quit worrying about the tree,” Fannie yelled, “or you’re going to have another mess to clean up!”

“Really, Doll. What are we going to do?” Ibby asked. “She’s trapped. She’s going to pee in her pants if we don’t do something soon.”

“Got a saw in the shed. I can probably cut her out of there until we get a tree man here.” Doll’s face grew serious. “Look where that branch is sitting next to Fannie. If you hadn’t come into the kitchen, that branch, it might have landed right on top of you, Miss Ibby. Just glad everybody’s okay. I’m gone go see about the damage upstairs.”

Ibby glanced over at the front window where the tree branches had forced their way inside like octopus tentacles. Suddenly it didn’t seem so funny anymore.

“Will somebody hurry up?” Fannie said.

“Calm down, Miss Fannie. We figure out something,” Queenie said, still chuckling. “Someday.”

“All right. You’ve had your laugh.” Fannie sank down into the couch and crossed her arms.

Doll came running back down the stairs. “Lawd!” she cried. “That tree done made a mess of my sewing room. Big limb came through the window just missing the sewing machine.”

“Is that all you’re worried about? How about trying to get me out of here?” Fannie squawked.

A few minutes later Doll came back with a small handsaw. “Daddy’s coming over with some plywood to board up them front windows. But he can’t do nothing until some of them branches are cut back from the house,” she said as she began to saw one of the branches.

“This rate, it’s going to be Christmas before you get me out of here,” Fannie complained.

Doll held the saw up. “You want to try?”

“I’m gone go see if Crow can track down someone to come haul this tree off.” Queenie went back to the kitchen.

After a good twenty minutes of caterwauling from Fannie, Doll was finally able to cut a path wide enough for her to crawl through. The second she was free, she made a beeline to her bedroom.

Crow pulled up to the house in a borrowed pickup truck with sheets of plywood in the back. Birdelia and T-Bone were with him. Crow got out and began to survey the damage, shaking his head, as T-Bone came up beside him. Then the three of them started down the left-hand side of the house and came around the back.

Ibby followed Doll into the kitchen to greet them.

“Did you get ahold of anybody?” Queenie asked Crow as he came in the back door.

He scratched his head. “I phoned over to Roosevelt Jefferson. He got that tree-trimming business, you know.”

“What he say?”

“He gone come over take a look this afternoon, soon as he finish up another job.”

“We got lots to do before the sun goes down,” Queenie said. “Got to get boards up on them windows—otherwise skeeters gone be buzzing around like they own the place.”

“Understand.” Crow nodded.

Queenie beckoned Birdelia and T-Bone inside. “Y’all come on in. Birdelia, you go on upstairs, see if you can help Doll clean up the mess in her sewing room. Crow, T-Bone, y’all follow me into the front room.”

“What about me?” Ibby said.

“Just try and stay out of the way, baby,” Queenie said.

Ibby went up to her room and opened the window. Mr. Roosevelt and his crew had arrived with a large truck carrying heavy equipment. They were standing around the hole in the ground left from the uprooted tree, talking to Crow. The root ball was so big it reached far above Crow’s head. The hole left by the tree was much larger than she’d imagined, maybe eight feet wide and eight feet deep.

As Mr. Roosevelt’s men began to sever the outer branches with chainsaws, Ibby leaned out the window to get a better look. Fannie had come out onto the front porch and was pacing back and forth with a strange look on her face.

Ibby didn’t know why, but she felt sorry for the old tree, the way it was being hacked up. She thought back to Balfour and his accident. If that tree hadn’t been there, the balsa plane might not have gotten caught up in it and Balfour wouldn’t have crawled out on the gutter to get it. If he’d lived, her daddy wouldn’t have been sent off to boarding school, and Fannie wouldn’t have had a nervous breakdown. Could one tree do all that?

Fannie had stopped pacing and her arms were dangling by her sides. Ibby wondered if Fannie was thinking the same thing.

Mr. Roosevelt’s crew worked until sunset, but they’d only been able to clear away the branches from the inside of the house so that Crow and T-Bone could board up the windows for the evening. Fannie stayed on the porch, even after Mr. Roosevelt’s men left.

“Come on now, Miss Fannie,” Queenie said. “They gone. It’s dark. I got some supper for you on the table.”

But Fannie refused to come inside. She sat on the swing on the corner of the front porch until Queenie brought out a plate of food. Queenie sat on the swing with her, feeding her a bite of fried chicken every so often. Everyone inside held their breath, wondering if that swing could bear the weight of both of them.

“What’s gotten into her?” Ibby asked from just inside the door.

“Don’t know, baby,” Doll said.

Now Doll was fidgeting too. Everyone seemed to be on edge ever since that tree came crashing down.

Crow and T-Bone packed their tools into the truck.

“We ready to go,” Crow said.

“Just a minute.” Queenie waved him off. “Doll, come over here and help me get Miss Fannie in the house. Miss Ibby, might need your help too.”

Fannie’s hand began to shake uncontrollably as they lifted her from the swing.