Walking Across Egypt (22 page)

He liked Mattie Rigsbee, and would be sure to tell her so, and he'd be sure to ask her opinion about the whole thing. But his calling was not to Mattie Rigsbee, it was to higher offices: Duty, the Church, God.

By the time Clarence went to bed, Mattie had five piles throughout her house, ready to go to the yard sale the next morning: a Robert pile, an Elaine pile, a Paul pile, a Mattie pile, and a miscellaneous pile. She had called Elaine and Robert and given them one last chance at their goods. Robert wanted Mattie to keep his arrowheads, that was it. Elaine said she had brought all she wanted to her apartment. She was going to Chapel Hill for a conference and would stop by the yard sale. A man named Winston Sullivan would be with her.

When Mattie sat down to the piano Friday night, she had a vague sense that some sort of trade-off was coming. Maybe it was that she was getting rid of some of Elaine's old things, her childhood things, roller skates, her last two dolls, a watercolor set, and in exchange Elaine was bringing a young man to the yard sale for her to meet. Well, he might be young. He could be old, with Elaine there at thirty-eight already. Elaine hadn't brought anybody to meet in about a year. This was a good sign. And so soon after Robert had brought somebody.

And she was getting rid of some of Robert's old things. She could call Robert and see if he'd bring that nice young lady to the yard sale to meet this Winston Sullivan fellow. She'd like for the four of them to get together, to spend some time together. Maybe she could have them all to Sunday dinner. If not this Sunday then the next. She'd ask Elaine tomorrow. But tomorrow they could all have a good time talking about the toys for sale, remembering.

Mattie thumbed through the hymnbook. She found and played "Blest Be the Tie," and then "Morning Has Broken." She played "To a Wild Rose" once. She hummed "Walking Across Egypt," but still couldn't remember the words. It was in one of those old songbooks she'd gotten out of the piano bench to sell. Too late to go through all that. She'd get Robert and Elaine and Laurie and that Winston Sullivan to go on a little treasure hunt for it. That would be fun. Something for them to do together—see who could find "Walking Across Egypt" first. Then she'd bring it home and they could all sing it together around the piano sometime.

She went to the kitchen and got the papers on Wesley and sat down with them on the couch in the den. She read, noticing the blank spaces where you had to fill in your name, address, schooling, dates. Schooling? Well, if she decided to keep him, she could put something in. It had been so long ago. You agreed to provide for the physical needs, to provide guidance, to know where he was at all times. Stapled to the form was a paper of some sort which said chances for guardianship would be increased if the guardian was a relative.

It would be a nice challenge for her to get that boy started on another road, another path, in another direction. Get his teeth fixed, buy him some clothes, get him going to church, back in school.

But she wouldn't be able to do as much as she could when she was younger. She didn't have the energy; she was slowing down.

Well... she needed to go ahead and pray about it and make a decision: either yes, so she could get on with it, or no, so she could put it out of her head for good.

He could have Robert's room. She wouldn't have to buy a thing. She had several sets of sheets. She could get one of those Instamatics fixed for him, too.

Sitting on the couch with the legal papers in her lap, the lamp lighted beside her, she closed her eyes and prayed. Dear Lord, bless this house and all I try to do.

Guide and protect me in making this decision. Help me to do what is right.

What if everybody did good unto the least of these? thought Mattie. What in the world would happen? But that would only happen if the Devil went away somehow. It's up to Christians to lead the way, to do what's right. But I'm not young anymore, able to take on this, that, and the other. It's getting harder just to keep up this house. I need to look after myself—do a good job of that. I owe that to myself. I can't take care of some boy who's liable to do no telling what.

Dear gentle Jesus, guide me in making this decision. I need to get it over with, decide now. Please guide and direct me. In Thy precious name. Amen.

Mattie looked across the den into the kitchen, dark except for the light from the lamp beside her. What if Wesley was sitting over there right now doing something he ought not to be doing: eating hard candy, or worse still, drinking a beer. What would she say? She'd talk to him and explain. Maybe take more time to explain than she used to take with Robert and Elaine.

She closed her eyes. Now was the time. How could she do it? Well, it had to be some sort of instant decision, something quick. There was just no way she could figure it out. It would have to come in a flash.

She had an idea. She pictured herself standing in the pulpit looking out into the church sanctuary. The church was empty except for three little... little ghostlike figures, sitting in the middle of the auditorium on her right, and three in the middle on her left. Mattie spoke to the three on her right. "If I am to keep Wesley, you three stand up—when the time comes," she said. She looked at the three on her left. "If I am not to keep Wesley, you three stand up when the time comes. All of you take your time. Don't move until you have to. Now. Do what you have to do." She stood before them, watching and waiting.

Together, the three on the right stood. Mattie opened her eyes.

That was that.

She looked at the papers in her hands. She let her head fall back. She looked at the water stain on the ceiling. She needed to shout out. A big upside-down waterfall seemed to be flowing up out of her—up out of her head. "Amen," she said loudly. She was going to have a boarder. What in the world would Pearl say? "Amen," she said again. She stood, raised her hands. "Amen." And then: "Hester field." She remembered! She'd have to call Pearl, tell her she remembered the name of the field, and see what she thought about her big decision. Pearl would go along. She might resist a little to start with, but she'd go along eventually. Alora. Lord, Alora might shoot him. Alora or Finner, one.

She felt a great rush of energy. She felt wonderful. She needed to call somebody and tell them. Pearl? No, it was too late.

"Hello, Elaine?"

"Hi, Mother. I've got company; can I call you back tomorrow?"

"Company? This late?"

"Mother, it's just, ah, 10:15."

"A man?"

"Yes, Mother. It's okay. I'm thirty-eight."

"How old is he?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

"Ask him."

"Mother! What is this—the Spanish Inquisition?"

"I'm getting married."

"Say that again, Mother."

"I'm getting married."

"Mother, this is no time for jokes. I've got company."

"I'm getting married so I can have my own grandchildren. I'm signing the papers tonight."

"Mother, that is ridiculous. What papers?!"

"The guardian papers."

"What are you talking about, Mother? What guardian papers?"

"The guardian papers on Wesley Benfield. So he can live here."

"Wesley. The juvenile delinquent? Mother, sit down. Are you sitting down?"

"I'm standing at the kitchen counter. I'm fine. I'm going to take him in and I'm prepared to say yes when he asks me to marry him. And I imagine he will."

"Mother, now stop it. If you don't stop it, I'm coming over there."

"Come on, and spend the night."

"I... Mother..."

"What's your friend's name? Is it the one you're planning to bring to the yard sale?"

"Winston Sullivan. Yes. He's the one."

"Let me speak to him."

"Mother! What for?"

"Let me speak to him."

"Just a minute."

"Hello."

"Mr. Sullivan?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any intention of marrying Elaine?"

"Well, I, ah, haven't gotten quite that far in my thinking, ah, about things."

"Well, if you don't marry her I'm going to marry a sixteen-year-old boy and have my own grandchildren, even if I have to rent them, or adopt them, or whatever it is."

"Oh. Well, I'm not sure I understand."

"You understand what marriage is, don't you?"

"Oh yes, but—"

"How's your sperm?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"I said how's your sperm; how old are you?"

"I'm forty-seven. I hadn't checked my sper—"

"Your sperm starts getting weak when you pass forty-four."

"Mrs. Rigsbee, I don't feel comfortable talking to you about this. I—"

"Let me speak to Elaine."

"Yes. Okay. Good night, Mrs. Rigsbee."

"Good night. Sleep tight."

Winston looked at the phone and handed it to Elaine.

"Hello, mother?"

"He sounds like a nice young man but it's time he was going home. Or getting married. His sperm is getting tired."

"Mother, what in the world has happened to you? Do you feel all right?"

"I feel wonderful. I feel like a upside-down waterfall is coming up out of my head."

"Oh? Well, listen. You go to bed right now. And we'll see you tomorrow. Get some rest. Right now. You're not going to marry anybody, for goodness sakes, Mother. Let's talk about all this tomorrow."

"Fine. We'll all talk tomorrow. And find "Walking Across Egypt' and bring it home and all sing it together."

"Okay. Bye, Mother."

"Bye-bye."

Elaine hung up the phone and stood looking at Winston Sullivan. "She's lost her mind. I've got to do something. I'll have to call Robert."

Mattie turned out the kitchen light, walked into the hall and on down toward her bedroom. She turned on the bedroom light, turned out the hall light. What in the world? What a funny conversation. Somebody needed to get married.

The morning sun glowed orange through the top of a black pine tree as Lamar turned into Mattie's driveway. She would have hot coffee and no telling what to eat. Some of those biscuits. And maybe he could get another pair of shoes. Those wing tips fit perfect.

He stepped onto the back steps and knocked on the door. No one answered. He started around to the front.

The back door opened. Mattie stuck her head out. "Come on in. I was in the bathroom. I been so excited I got up at five."

Lamar stepped into the den.

"Take off your hat," said Mattie. "I've got something to tell you." She picked up the papers off the counter. "See these papers, the guardian papers; well, I signed them last night and I feel just as good about it this morning as I did then. Take off your hat."

"Well, slap my thigh."

Mattie walked to the stove. "You want some breakfast, don't you?"

"Sure."

"How do you want your eggs?"

"Scrambled. I'll be doggone."

"Yep. I decided to get on with it. Have a seat there at the table."

"Wesley'll be happy. He'll be real happy. I hope they let him out."

"Well, I do too. We'll call him up in a little bit." Mattie placed butter on the table. "How about that little dog? Is he still at the pound?"

"Yeah. I've seen him a few times."

"Well, I'm trying to decide—maybe I ought to get him back. Wesley'll need something around to look after, to take care of. That'll do him good, don't you think?"

"Oh, yeah. I can bring him to you anytime."

"Well, I don't know. Let me see how things go with Wesley, then we'll worry about the dog. One thing at a time. Maybe I ought to get a parakeet. Take off your hat."

Lamar took off his hat. Mattie handed him his plate, sat at the table herself, took a sip of coffee.

Lamar buttered his biscuit. "Ain't you going to say the blessing?" he asked.

"Oh yes. Thank you, Lord for these and the many blessings Thou hast given us. In Thy precious name, amen."

Lamar took a bite of egg, biscuit. "You never named that dog, did you?" he asked.

"Oh no."

"He ain't got but about two weeks before they do him in."

"We'll know something before then."