Good Heavens (22 page)

It seemed like forever before I glimpsed light at the end of the crack. Pushing and pushing, I kept squeezing myself through until I fairly popped out on the other side.

Trembling all over, I rubbed my bruised elbow and looked around. Up ahead I saw a break in the trees, which meant I was almost at the top. If I could make it up there, I could break out of the woods and be at the falls. If Dora was up there, I would find her.
It would help if only I could hear her wailing some more
.

It didn't take me long to cover that last lap. I stumbled out of the woods out of breath and shaking like a leaf. Looking all around to find her among the boulders, I didn't see a thing. I listened, but all I could hear was the roaring falls. As I kept looking, I had the color of that
old hunting coat in my mind's eye.
Lord, please gimme a glimpse of that old coat!

Then I heard something. Not the wailing but shrieking. Downright shrieking! Even above the roar of the falls, that shrieking was loud and clear. It came from
somebody
, and it came from the other side of the river. I cupped my hands and screamed, “Dora! Dora! Where are you, Dora?” The shrieking kept up, uninterrupted.

I didn't spot the coat, but I did see a ledge overhanging the bank on the other side; something just told me she was under that ledge. I would have to get over there to make sure, and getting over there would be dangerous. Even more dangerous than the slippery rocks were the wide channels worn down in the stone where floodwater rushed swift and deep. Yes, it was dangerous. And yes, I was scared, but I had to believe the Lord would not have brought me that far if he hadn't intended for me to go all the way.

The shrieking had stopped. I yelled one more time and listened, but all I could hear was the deafening roar. I knew she was there, and I was determined to get to her, so I decided the safest way to get over there was to sit down and slide across the rocks on my bottom. No, I was in no shape to take such risks. If I slipped I would go bouncing down the falls to my death, or at best wind up with broken bones or a busted head.

I eased out onto the nearest rock.

Even with the rain peppering down, sliding over one rock after another was not as hard as I imagined it would be. The hard part was when I came to a channel too wide for me to step over and no way around it. The only thing
to do was stand up, take a deep breath, and jump. I stood up, prayed, prayed again, then jumped! Landing on the other side, I fell to my knees, which shook me up pretty bad. I didn't try to get up right away. In a few minutes, I looked up, and there! I saw Dora huddled under that shelf. With her arms wrapped around her knees, she was rocking back and forth. I scrambled to get closer, and when I was close enough, I heard her moaning.

As I made my way down to the shelf, Dora seemed unmindful of me and everything else outside herself. I could have used a hand getting down to where she was, but without any help, I managed to crawl part way, then roll under there alongside of her. Breathing hard, my nose running, and me still shaking, I couldn't talk.

If Dora noticed me, she didn't show it. She looked terrible—downright wild—and sounded worse. That moaning was coming from somewhere deep, deep inside her, from someplace nobody could reach. I had seen plenty of people get historical, even go berserk, but I had never seen a mortal soul in the state she was in. Who could understand the hell that must have been going on inside her.

I didn't know what to do. To tell the truth, I was in no shape to do anything but lay there trying to get hold of myself. Water was dripping down on us from the shelf overhead, and that old wet hunting coat gave off the smell of a long-haired dog, but after all I had went through, the space under that rock felt like my own personal “Rock of Ages, cleft for me.” I was safe and I wouldn't worry about getting back across those rocks and making it home.

The thunder was rumbling off in the distance, rolling
away across the hills. Maybe the rain had spent itself or was moving on, too.

After a while I was breathing more easy; I could live with the buzzing in my head. Looking up through the opening I had climbed in at, I saw that the rain was letting up. Dora was no longer moaning—with her head buried in the crook of her arm, she was whimpering like a whipped puppy.

In a little while her rocking slowed. I waited and waited. Finally, it came to a standstill. There was no way of knowing how this would turn out, but as far as I was concerned, it was all in the Lord's hands. Feeling cramped in that narrow space, I shifted onto my side to better see outside. Mists were rising from the rocks.
The sun must be coming out
. If it was, it wouldn't have long to go before it set.
If we're going home, we shouldn't wait too long
.

After a while, Dora unlocked her arms from around her knees and rolled out from under the shelf.
Is she going to leave me under here?
I wondered. I pulled myself closer to the edge and was ready to try to get out by myself, but Dora reached down, took hold of both of my hands, and pulled me to safety. She saw me settled on the rock before she sat down herself.

You would think I would feel awkward, us sitting there not saying a word, but I was so relieved that Dora was alive and that I had not killed myself, no matter what might happen later it would have to be a piece of cake.

I could tell by her eyes that Dora's grief was not yet spent, but maybe the worst of it was behind her. She seemed content just sitting there, watching the clouds
breaking up and scattering, the pale sun showing its face.

The longer we sat there not saying a word, you'd think I would get nervous again, but I didn't. Maybe I was too wore out to get nervous, or maybe it was because Dora was a strong woman and I knew she'd take care of me. But the truth is, I was feeling that warm peace that comes over me sometimes for no reason at all. I did wonder what Dora had in mind. Was she going back to Priscilla Home, or would she just see me there safely then go on her way hitchhiking back to Tennessee?

The sun would soon go in back of the trees; if we wanted to get out of the woods before dark, we didn't have much time. Still I didn't say anything. Dora probably knew it was getting late; she had to be the one to make the move.

In a little while, I don't know why, I just started in singing. I didn't care that my voice box was all out of whack—I just sang from my heart those precious words:

I felt so helpless.
If only I could take that poor girl's hand and put it in the hand of Jesus
. I felt downright weepy, singing,

I did a pretty good job of not showing my feelings, but I tell you, my heart was so full I just ached. I wanted to put my arms around her and hold her, but you don't mother Dora, not a strong woman like her.

The wind was picking up, and I shivered in those wet clothes. Leaning back on the rock, propped up on her elbows, Dora lifted her face toward the sky and said, “Sing it again, Miss E.”

And I did.

After I finished, Dora stood up, took my hand, and pulled me to my feet. We started back across the rocks.

14

I was so beat, I doubt that I could have made it back to the house without Dora's help. She held on to me going across the falls over those slick rocks and didn't let go until we were on safe ground. Safe ground? Well, you might call it that, but she had to blaze the way ahead of me going down through the woods. I was amazed at the way she zigzagged through the brush, making a path out of no path. When we came to that roadblock, she had me hold on to her waist as she climbed around one boulder and scaled down the steep side of another. Then she guided me around rhododendron thickets, and in half the time it had taken me to climb up there, she had us back on the trail that led up to the house.

As we were coming up to the back door, I was relieved to see the light on in Ursula's apartment. That meant she was up there doing her paperwork and we could slip in the house without her catching us. We could hear the girls talking and laughing on the front porch, so Dora and I slipped inside unnoticed.

When we reached the second floor, Dora said to me, “Once the moon is right, we'll plant the garden.”

That was her way of telling me she was staying on. “Good, Dora,” I said, and she went up the stairs to the third floor.

I went in my room, anxious to get out of those wet clothes and into a tub of hot water. My bones were telling me my age and letting me have it for what I had put them through. Hungry as I was, food could wait. I turned on the water in the tub and started taking off my clothes. There's nothing like a hot bath to take care of body aches and pains. As I soaped myself I discovered more scratches, scrapes, and bruises than Brer Rabbit got in the briar patch. One knee was scraped pretty bad. I gave my hair a good scrubbing and rinsed it under the shower. Then I turned on more hot water in the tub and lay back in water up to my neck. Oooh, that felt good!

As I lay soaking, I thought about the ordeal I had been through. I guessed no woman my age should attempt such a thing, but I'd always had good legs and, well, all I knew was I
had
to go up there. It was the Lord sent me, otherwise I would not have made it.

I heard the screen door bang a couple of times.
The women must be coming back inside
. I sure hoped Ursula was staying in her apartment so I wouldn't have to explain anything to her. I kept listening to hear if she came into the office. She didn't. That was a relief—I could soak as long as I wanted to.

Fifteen minutes later, I was still in the tub when somebody knocked on my door.
Uh-oh
, I thought, and yelled, “I'm in the tub.”

“It's just us,” one of the girls answered.

“Okay, just a minute.” I got out, dried myself, and put on my robe. Opening the door, there stood Brenda with a supper tray and half a dozen of the women crowding around. “Oh my, what's this?”

“It's supper. Can we come in?”

“Sure.” I opened the door wider to let them in. “I can go to the table—”

Brenda laughed. “No way, Jose, this is room service!”

“Room service? How come?”

“Dora said you got caught in the rain,” Linda said. “Now tell us the truth. Where've you been?”

I let that question hang. “Well, if you insist on serving me in here, I'll take the chair and you all sit anywhere you can find a place.” They piled onto the bed or sat cross-legged on the floor, and with the tray on my lap I lit right into those chicken and dumplings.

Martha picked up Bud's picture from off the TV. “This your husband?”

“Yes, that's Bud.” I knew they were curious to know if we were divorced or what, so I told them Bud had passed away, that he had been wounded in Vietnam and was sick a long time before he died.

“How long has he been dead?” she asked.

“Seventeen years this fall.”

Martha handed Bud's picture to Melba to be passed around and asked, “Did you ever think about getting married again?”

“Yes, I've thought about that,” I said.

Linda piped up, “Why didn't you?”

“Why
didn't
I get married? Don't you mean why
don't
I get married?”

“That's the spirit!” somebody cheered, and Linda growled, “Whatever.”

“Why don't I get married?” I repeated. “Good reason.” I held off on saying what that reason was, taking a sip of coffee and then taking my time buttering a biscuit.

“What's the reason?” Linda demanded. “Why didn't you get married again?”

“Nobody asked me.”

That cracked them up! Once we got over laughing, I told them, “Well, to tell the truth, Bud was the best, and once a body has had the best they can't be satisfied with anything less.”

“Cut the crap!” Linda said. “We want to know where you've been, Miss E. Miss Ursula had us out looking for you. She's probably up in her apartment right now talking to the police.”

Wilma hooted at that. “Linda, that's a lie! This storm kept Miss Ursula in her apartment all afternoon. She didn't even miss Miss E. until supper.”

Angela giggled. “Miss E., I told her you were in your room fasting.”

“Now why would you say a thing like that?”

“First thing I could think of.”

“Now, Angela, you know better than that. You should have told the truth.”

“Didn't know the truth. I asked Miss Ursula where was Dora and she cut me short—said Dora would be back. I put two and two together, and if I was right about where you were, I sure as shootin' wasn't going to tell her!”