Good Heavens (29 page)

I didn't fully understand it then, but I'd pondered that one a whole lot since.

Portia asked me where she could find the Ten Commandments. “Emily wants me to read them to her.”

I showed her Exodus 20 and waited while she read the chapter to herself. I was so caught up in what was going on with my old King James, I had almost forgot what I had come in there to take care of.

After she was finished reading that chapter, she put one of the bookmarks in the place and handed the Bible back to me.

“Portia, do you have a few minutes to spare?”

She nodded.

“Well, I want to tell you a story about a friend of mine. Her name is Beatrice, and we grew up together, went to school together, went to the same church, all the like of that. But sad to say, by the time we was in the eighth grade, Beatrice had lost all her family, and ever since then she depended on me a lot. To this day we are like sisters, and she really means a lot to me. But Portia, even though Beatrice was a Christian, she was so afraid of everything—high places, being alone, strangers—all the like of that. About ten years ago she had breast cancer, and after that you couldn't mention the word
cancer
without her going historical. I tell you, Portia, I use to talk myself blue in the face trying to make her see that she didn't have to have all them fears, but it didn't do a piece of good.

“Well, not long ago, all that changed. A nice Christian man came into her life. His name is Carl, and he saw how scared she was—scared of everybody and everything. He told Beatrice he knew what would help her. He said she should look up all the ‘fear nots' in the Bible. You know, like, ‘Fear thou not for I am with thee.' It must have took some time, but it worked. Today Beatrice is a different person. She can even say the word
cancer
and not mind it one bit.”

When I was done, Portia didn't say anything, so I asked her, “Do you know why I told you that story?”

She nodded and looked so downcast I was sorry I asked.

With my finger under her chin, I lifted her small face and looked in her eyes. I asked the question I figured she wanted to ask. “How did Beatrice find all those ‘fear nots'? I'll show you.”

In the back of my Bible is a pretty good concordance. I turned to it and showed Portia how to look up “fear nots.”

She wanted to start looking right away, so I patted her hand and smiled. “I'll leave my Bible with you, Portia. You have my permission to stay in your room as long as you like. When you're done, just leave the Bible outside my room door.”

I stood up to leave. “I guess I better get busy planning for my friends' visit.”

“Will Miss Beatrice be coming?”

“No. I wish she was though.”

I left and gently closed the door behind me. As I made my way down the stairs, I still felt the way a body feels coming out of church when the Holy Spirit has been at work. That feeling stayed with me all morning as I was planning for the W.W. s' visit.

I made a list of things to do and planned menus I knew Clara and the other two would like. I'd get Wilma to go into town with me for the donuts. The rhododendron were in full bloom as well as cornflowers and daisies to fill all our vases. Evelyn and Lenora could pick some greenery to go with the flowers to give the house a good smell. Maybe by the time Clara and them came, the piano would be fixed and somebody would play it. But
to be on the safe side, I called Nettie and invited the Valley Church trio to come for supper and sing for us afterward.

I tell you the truth, all of that happening in one day—well, all I got to say is it was one glad day. My cup was full and running over!

19

Whenever Albert Ringstaff came for supper, he would sit on the porch with us after we ate. For a while all the girls would be out there with us, listening as he told about his experiences. But in a little while they would leave, either to go to their rooms, watch a video in the day room, or play ping-pong. That left me, Ursula, and Lenora on the porch with Ringstaff. Sometimes Ursula had work to do, and then me and Lenora had him all to ourselves. For me, the best part of any day was when we could sit and talk with that fine man.

Of course, we invited him to come to supper the night we expected the W.W.s to arrive. He came early, wearing that tweed jacket and gray slacks I liked so much. I had never seen that man without a tie, except that one time he was fishing. In my book, he was old school through and through, and I liked that in a man. He pitched right in to help me rearrange tables and chairs so all the guests could sit at one table.

We had hardly done that when Wilma hollered, “Company's a-comin'!”

I saw Clara's car turning in the driveway, and rushed out on the lawn, waving and beckoning Thelma to drive around back. Then I ran around there to meet them at the back door. Oh, was I ever glad to see them! Clara was up front and Mabel was on the backseat. Getting out from behind the wheel, Thelma moved slow like all her joints were stiff, and was complaining about the Old Turnpike. I guessed the long ride was not easy for any of them.

Clara came around the car and hugged me. Mabel was practically buried under all the stuff they had piled in the backseat—jackets, sweaters and raincoats, a couple of bed pillows, packages galore, and a bushel basket of peaches.

Wilma, Nancy, and Evelyn were cleaning out the garage and stopped to help us unload. Ursula came down from the apartment, and I introduced everybody.

Thelma opened the trunk, and they started taking out suitcases. They must have had half a dozen! “We didn't have room to bring a lot,” Clara said, “but we did manage to bring you some peaches, tomatoes, and boiled peanuts. Oh yes. Elijah remembered how you love Silver Queen corn, and he sent you what he had.”

“Silver Queen corn? I can't believe it's come in already. And tomatoes? All we have on our bushes are blooms.”

Mabel, hugging herself, shivered. “No wonder—it's so cold up here.”

“If you think July is cold, you should have been here in
April,” I told her. “Girls, take the produce to the kitchen, please, and come back for the baggage.”

We sorted out the suitcases and sent Clara and Mabel's bags to the guest bedroom and Thelma's up to Ursula's apartment.

I had hardly got them settled when Nettie turned in the drive bringing the trio. I asked Ursula to give them a guided tour while I finished up in the kitchen, where I was making the biscuits.

It was one busy time, I tell you, but the house looked great—it was spic and span with flowers everywhere you looked. And I wanted that meal to be perfect. Melba made her special ham loaf; Brenda made corn pudding and was frying some green tomatoes. Martha made the dessert, blueberry cobbler, and to top it off, butter sauce. As soon as the biscuits were done, Brenda rang the bell.

I ran downstairs to the guest room to bring Clara and Mabel up to the dining room. Ursula brought Thelma. I seated the W.W.s, the trio, and Ursula at the table with me and Ringstaff. I asked him to ask the blessing.

I was anxious for the W.W.s to get to know Albert Ringstaff, and knowing how shy they were around new people, I got talking up a storm about him, telling them how I came to know him, about him fishing and all, and how he had traveled all over the world fixing pianos, meeting big shots, and how he's such a wonderful Bible teacher and all. I wanted to go on and on, but then I realized I was talking too much. I guess I was excited. Everybody else had finished eating before I even got half done. Lenora, who was one of the girls serving that night, was waiting for me to finish before she served the cob
bler, even though I told her not to mind me, to go ahead with the dessert. I felt funny eating while everybody in the room was through and waiting for me to finish. Ringstaff helped take the attention off of me by asking Ursula some questions, but even so, I finally gave up on finishing my plate. Lenora took orders for the cobbler, offering a choice of butter sauce or ice cream. I resisted the temptation to have a little of both.

Everybody raved about that meal—even had the cooks, Brenda, Melba, and Martha, stand up, and we clapped for them.

After supper, the girls insisted that I go in the parlor with our guests and leave the kitchen to them. So I did. Here Ringstaff was surrounded by nothing but a bunch of women, but that did not seem to bother him. I never saw anything like the way he brought everybody into the conversation. First he asked the trio to tell him about their music. Nettie was a little nervous to start with, but once she got going she told us all about such things as shaped notes and how precentors used to travel the mountains teaching people to sing in parts. I didn't much have my mind on that, I was so anxious for everything to go off just right. I especially wanted the W.W.s to enjoy themselves.

Well, I think they did. Ringstaff got them talking about Live Oaks, and that's a subject right up Clara's alley. She can take a body back to the founding fathers and bring our history all the way up to Live Oaks' latest crime wave—boys busting watermelons in a field.

When the girls were finished in the kitchen, they gathered in the parlor for the singing. The trio started off with
“On the Jericho Road,” which is lively, to say the least, and we were all clapping, keeping time. The next number was real pretty, “When They Ring Those Golden Bells.” On the “glory, hallelujah, jubilee,” those three women trilled like real bells. I can't remember everything they sang—oh, yes, they sang “The Old Gospel Ship” and “If I Could Hear My Mother Pray Again.” They closed with “I'm Praying for You” but the girls wouldn't let them quit, so they sang “When I See the Blood.”

It was 10:00 before everything was over. The trio and Ringstaff left and then I took the W.W.s to my room for a little visit before we went to bed.

Well, the news from Live Oaks was not good. “Guess who's staying at Preacher Osborne's place?” Mabel asked me.

I couldn't guess, so she told me. “Percy Poteat and his new wife.”

“What?” I had completely forgot about telling that deadbeat he could stay at my house a couple of days to show Live Oaks his new wife. At that time I'd had no idea I'd not be there—and that the Osbornes would be living in my house.

Clara was telling me, “They come riding up on a motorcycle early one morning looking for you. When you weren't there, Preacher Bob said they could stay anyway. So they did. Esmeralda, she is definitely not our kind.” She looked at Mabel and Thelma for mutual agreement. “A bleached blonde wearing a leather jacket and boots is no lady! Esmeralda, do you reckon they're really married? Nowadays people like that think nothing of living in sin.”

Thelma hooted. “Like as not it's one of those
relationships
the Lord calls adultery.”

“They've been at Osborne's a couple of weeks,” Mabel said, “and Percy keeps saying they're leaving but not yet.”

I was so upset I was beside myself. “That's crazy! It's all my fault! I have to call Pastor Osborne and apologize.”

“You don't need to do that,” Clara said. “Preacher Bob is trying to lead Percy to the Lord, and he's got a long way to go yet.”

“Oh, I'm gonna call him, and if I can get Percy Poteat on the phone, I'll tell him to hit the road in no uncertain terms. I've done it before and I can do it again!”

Mabel saw how upset I was. “Well, let me tell you some good news. Guess who's dating Boris Krantz?”

I thought it might be Clara's granddaughter, but one look at Clara's tight lips told me it wasn't.

“It's Lucy,” Thelma blurted out.

Then I remembered how I'd sensed those two might be interested in each other. Well, they would make a fine couple.

“Lucy started helping Boris with his Spanish, and one thing led to another and now it looks like they might be getting serious,” Mabel was saying.

Clara disagreed. “Why, it's nothing of the sort, Mabel. He wants to learn Spanish so he can help all the Mexicans coming into Live Oaks, and she's agreed to teach him. That's all there is to it, and you shouldn't be spreading rumors like that.”

Mabel went right on talking. “By the way, Boris wants
to bring the young people up here on a mission trip. What do you think?”

“Well, we could use some help. We're cleaning out the garage to make a place for canning the vegetables when they come in. And the girls keep talking about wanting to build a gazebo.”

Thelma got up from my chair still stiff and stretching. “Esmeralda, it's getting late. I better get over to the apartment before Miss Ursula goes to bed.”

“Okay,” I said. “Get a good night's rest, because tomorrow we're taking you to Grandfather Mountain.”