Saving CeeCee Honeycutt (34 page)

Aunt Tootie turned and looked out the window. After a brief moment I saw her lips curve into a smile. It was the exact same smile I’d seen on the day she walked into my life.

“Gertrude, you
do
have a home,” she said, turning toward Mrs. Odell. “And it’s right here in Savannah. I’d love to have you live here with Cecelia and me.”

Mrs. Odell shook her head. “I thank you for your kindness, Tootie, but I couldn’t impose.”

“You most certainly wouldn’t be imposing.”

“This here child sure does love you,” Oletta said. “If you was here in Savannah, then everyone would be happy.”

Mrs. Odell looked stunned. “I’ll admit I’ve grown fond of Savannah. The warmer weather has been good for these old bones of mine. I don’t have much, but I have the money from the sale of my house. Maybe you could help me find a little place to rent, something close by. Within walking distance.”

Aunt Tootie reached out and patted Mrs. Odell’s hand. “Now, why would you want to up and rent a place when you have a home right here?”

“Oh, Tootie, you’re so generous. But my knees are riddled with arthritis. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to climb the stairs.”

My aunt glanced toward the staircase and thought for a moment. “Well, you can climb them now, right?”

Mrs. Odell nodded.

“All right, then this is where you’ll stay until your knees say otherwise.” She smiled at Mrs. Odell and said, “We’ll be like Scar-lett O’Hara and worry about the rest tomorrow.”

“I don’t want charity. I’ve never needed it before, and I don’t want to start now. If I did live here, then I’d have to pay my way and—”

“Gertrude, it’s all settled. You’ll live here with Cecelia and me, and your rent will be overseeing the care of the gardens. I don’t have the time to fuss with them like I used to, so I hired a nice man to do the heavy work. I’d be thrilled if you’d keep an eye on things.”

I knelt on the floor in front of Mrs. Odell. “Oh, please, say yes.”

While Mrs. Odell fumbled with a tissue and tried to regain her composure, Oletta rose to her feet. “C’mon, Miz Gertrude, dry them eyes. We’ve got one more peck of peaches waitin’ to be peeled. Let’s go get it done so we can make us some nice preserves.” She reached out and offered Mrs. Odell her hand.

Aunt Tootie stood and winked. “Oletta runs this house, so we all better do as she says.”

Like birds coming to roost in a favorite tree, we fi led down the hallway and into the kitchen, settling comfortably in our places. It was a moment so perfect I wished I could stop time. I thought about how we all had Life Books—Mrs. Odell, Aunt Tootie, Oletta, and me—and how someone, somewhere, had seen fit to write our names on one another’s pages.

That evening after dinner, Aunt Tootie, Mrs. Odell, and I were relaxing on the porch when we heard Miz Goodpepper scream. “Oh, no. You evil little bitch!”

“What in the world?” Aunt Tootie said, rising to her feet.

“I’ll go see.” I bolted down the steps, across the patio, and cut through the opening in the hedge. Miz Goodpepper was standing by the jasmine trellis. “What’s the matter?” I asked, trotting toward her.

She pointed to a huge spider web. “Just look at what Matilda has done. I’ll never forgive her.”

When I saw what she was so upset about, the hair on my arms prickled. “Oh, no. We’ve got to save it.”

“It’s too late,” Miz Goodpepper said, burying her face in her hands.

Caught in the sticky, silvery strands of web was an emerald green hummingbird. The bird’s needlelike beak gaped open as it hung suspended in the web, dying.

Behind me I heard Aunt Tootie and Mrs. Odell making their way across the lawn.

“Oh, Thelma, how awful.” Aunt Tootie leaned closer to the web and shook her head. “That poor little thing.”

Mrs. Odell never said a word as she stepped forward. Slowly she reached out and pushed her hand through the web, cupping the hummingbird in her palm. As she pulled it free, long strands of web fluttered in the breeze.

“Thelma, can you get me tweezers and some tissue?” she said, holding the bird in her left hand while gently pulling the tangles of web away with her right.

Miz Goodpepper raced into the house and quickly returned. “Oh, Gertrude, do you think you can save him?”

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Odell said, wrapping tissue around her index finger. “But if the spider didn’t inject him with venom, maybe it’s not too late.”

She gently wiped away the web, then took the tweezers and pulled a few of the stickiest strands free of the bird’s delicate wings.

“Here, honey,” she said, handing me the tweezers. “Your hands are steadier than mine. See those pieces of web wound around his neck? Take the tweezers and pull them away. But don’t pinch him.”

I held my breath as I removed the remnants of web. The bird lay so still I was certain he’d never survive.

“Well, this little fellow is in shock,” Mrs. Odell said. “There’s nothing more we can do but wait and see.”

“Gertrude, you need to sit down,” Miz Goodpepper said, taking her arm and guiding her to the patio.

We all pulled up chairs and sat in a circle, looking at the bird in Mrs. Odell’s hand. I felt sick to my stomach knowing he would probably die any minute.

Aunt Tootie clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Oh, I hope he makes it.”

No sooner did those words leave her lips than the hummingbird tried to right himself. We sat at the edge of our seats as he flopped around in Mrs. Odell’s hand. It was so sad I could hardly bear to watch, but at the same time I couldn’t look away.

All of a sudden his tiny wings fluttered and he got himself to his feet.

“Go on, honey,” Mrs. Odell said. “Fly away and be free.”

And that’s exactly what the hummingbird did. He lifted himself up from Mrs. Odell’s hand and rose into the warm evening air.

“Gertrude, you’re a miracle worker,” Miz Goodpepper said as she watched the bird disappear. “Thank you.”

When Mrs. Odell pushed herself up from the chair, Miz Goodpepper nearly knocked her over with a bear hug. “Bless you, Gertrude. There’s a special place in heaven for people like you.”

“Glad I could help, Thelma.”

“I’m going to brush the rest of that web down right now,” Miz Goodpepper said, heading for her porch.

“Aunt Tootie, can I stay and help?”

“Sure, you can.”

Aunt Tootie and Mrs. Odell headed for home while Miz Goodpepper retrieved a broom. “I can’t believe my ignorance,” she sputtered, poking through the jasmine with her broom. “I had no idea a hummingbird could get caught in a spider’s web.”

“Oh, my gosh, is that her?” I said, pointing to a huge yellow and black spider that was fearfully clinging to a wooden slat at the top of the trellis.

Miz Goodpepper came and stood behind me. “Yes, that’s her, wicked little witch that she is.”

I moved closer and studied Matilda. “I’ve never seen a spider marked like that. She really is pretty.”

Miz Goodpepper raised the broom. “Not anymore she’s not!”

I was shocked speechless when she knocked Matilda to the ground.
Slap
went the broom as Miz Goodpepper lifted it over her head and brought it down on Matilda.
Slap. Slap. Slap.

Poor Matilda was pulverized. I looked at Miz Goodpepper and gasped. “You killed Matilda! Why? I thought you loved her.”

“Yes,” she said with sadness in her voice. “I did love her. But this had to be done. There was no choice. Better to be killed by someone who loves you than a total stranger.”

To me, dead was dead no matter
who
did the deed. But I figured this wasn’t the time to share that thought.

I looked at what was left of Matilda, then peered up at Miz Goodpepper. I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Well, looks like you won’t be reaching nirvana anytime soon.”

She pushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead and sniffed. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. I guess I’ll just have to settle for a trip to Idaho.”

I
was on my way down the stairs carrying a basket of laundry when Aunt Tootie came bustling through the front door with several large shopping bags. “Hi, sugar,” she said, dropping them on the floor and setting her handbag on the hall chest. “What a day this has been.” She removed her hat and fluffed her hair. “Help me get these bags into the kitchen, will you?”

“Sure. What did you get?”

“I was shopping with a friend of mine and I found the most beautiful table linens. They’re so festive and bright. Just wait till you see them.”

We hauled the bags into the kitchen, where Oletta was showing Mrs. Odell how to make a sweet potato pie. The ceiling fan sent the spicy aroma of nutmeg whirling through the air.

Aunt Tootie chattered up a storm as she showed us what all she’d bought. “Every store we visited had an end-of-summer sale. The bargains were amazing,” she said, pulling out a stack of coral-colored tablecloths and dozens of floral napkins edged in yellow piping.

Mrs. Odell wandered over to have a look. “Those are so lovely. I’m partial to that shade of coral.”

“Me too,” Oletta said.

I couldn’t imagine why she needed that many napkins, especially because an entire cupboard in the pantry was devoted to stacks upon stacks of table linens.

I smoothed my hand over the napkins. “They’re real pretty, but why do you need so many?”

Aunt Tootie pinched my cheek. “I have a big surprise. The reason I bought all these beautiful table linens is because on Sunday afternoon I’ll be hosting a lovely, ladies-only garden party. I wanted to have a party when you first arrived, but Oletta encouraged me to give you time to adjust to your new surroundings, and, as usual, she was right.”

Oletta beamed proudly and nodded.

“And now that Gertrude’s here,” Aunt Tootie gushed, “it’s the perfect time to have a party. Remember that beautiful white dress I bought you at the beginning of summer—the one with the petticoats and the pink sash?”

Aunt Tootie was all lit up, waiting for me to say something.

“Yes, ma’am, that dress is hanging in my closet.”

She clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Well, now you’ll
finally
have the opportunity to wear it.”

My stomach dropped to my ankles, and my mind screamed,
NOOOOOO. Not that dress. Oh, please don’t make me wear that dress.

“I’ve invited some of the neighbors, all the garden club members, and my friends from the Foundation. Just a nice, small party—about forty women in all.”

My mouth dropped open. “Forty?”

Aunt Tootie put her arm around my shoulder. “Oh, forty is nothing. I often have sixty or so.”

“And don’t forget that Christmas party you had back in ’56,” Oletta said. “We had over a hundred people that night. I’ll always remember ...”

While Mrs. Odell and Aunt Tootie listened to Oletta recount the culinary details and festive decorations of the Christmas party, I slipped out of the kitchen and went upstairs to my bedroom.

From the back of my closet I removed the white dress from its hiding place and hung it on a hook by the door. I thought about all the party dresses and gowns Momma had collected over the years. How much she loved them, how much shame they brought me, and how mad I’d get when she wore them in public.

For how long I don’t know, but I stood and stared at the dress until I was startled by a knock at the door.

“May I come in?” Aunt Tootie said, peeking around the door.

“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile.

When she saw me standing in front of the open closet, she couldn’t have looked more pleased. “Oh, I can’t tell you how this warms my heart. I wondered where you’d gone, and here you are, looking at your pretty dress.”

I kept my smile plastered on my face and nodded.

“While we were talking downstairs, I realized that Oletta might need to do some alterations before the party. So how about putting it on so I can have a look?”

What was I to do? Say no? Tell Aunt Tootie I couldn’t bring myself to wear the dress because it was almost exactly like the one Momma was wearing when she died? I began chewing the inside of my lip, then quickly stopped before I drew blood.

Aunt Tootie tilted her head. “Honey, are you all right?”

Knowing I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt her feelings, I reached up and pulled the dress from the hook. “Yes, ma’am, I’m fine. I’ll try it on right now.”

“Take your time,” she said, sitting down in the chair by the window. “I’ll wait right here.”

I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Slowly I stripped out of my clothes, unzipped the back of the dress, and lifted it over my head. The crinoline petticoats rustled as they fell into place, feeling scratchy against my bare legs. I zipped up the dress as best I could and walked into the bedroom.

Aunt Tootie’s eyes widened. “Oh, my. That dress looks like it was made for you—it couldn’t possibly be more perfect. Here, let me tie the sash.”

I turned around so she could finish zipping up the dress and fuss with the bubblegum-pink sash, and as she did so I avoided my reflection in the mirror. I felt a little dizzy and sick to my stomach as Aunt Tootie went on and on about how precious I looked.

As she tied and retied the sash, trying to get it just so, she said, “Cecilia Rose, you look so sweet, everyone at the party will want to take a bite out of you. There, now it’s perfect,” she said, giving the sash a final tug and fluffing the petticoats. When I turned around to face her, I saw tears in her eyes. “Look in the mirror, and tell me what you think.”

I could not, would not, destroy this moment for my aunt by refusing to look in the mirror. This was something I had to do. I had to love her enough to not only do it graciously but do it with a smile on my face—a believable smile. Though seeing myself in this dress would surely be baptism by fire, I set my eyes on the floor and stepped across the room. When I lifted my head and looked at my reflection, I was horrified.