by Beth Hoffman
“But she was always so . . . so negative. It seemed like nothing ever made her happy.”
“Teddi, I know I’m a simple country woman, but that doesn’t stop me from thinkin’ real deep about things. When I boil everything down, this is what I believe with all my heart. Her father promised her a nursing education, and when he died, she was devastated. In one fell swoop, she lost her father and her dream. Then, when she met Henry, she thought she had a chance for a new life. She loved your father very much. When he went off to war, she was a nervous wreck—wrote him letters all the time, waited for the mail every day, hoping there’d be a letter from him and bein’ crushed when there wasn’t.”
Stella sank deeper into the cushion, her eyes softening. “Every time your mother had some spare change, she’d put it in a jar. She told me she was saving for something special to wear when Henry finally came home. Oh, how she scrimped. There were times she didn’t even have any butter in the house. When the war was finally over and Henry was on his way home, she was beside herself with joy. So she and I drove up to Lexington to do some shopping.
“We found a little shop that had the prettiest dresses I’d ever seen. While we were looking through the racks and talking, your mother glanced toward the back of the shop. I’ll never forget the look on her face—you’d have thought she was seeing a miracle take place. Next thing I knew, she was talking to the salesgirl about a nightgown. But your mother didn’t have anywhere near enough money to buy it. When the owner of the store heard that your daddy was comin’ home from the war, she walked from behind the counter, slipped the nightgown off the mannequin, and told your mother she could have it for whatever she could pay.”
And there it was. The mystery of the nightgown had been revealed as gently as the autumn breeze moving through the open window. The truth had come to me without fanfare, right there on Stella’s sofa.
“It was pale pink silk with lace, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. How in the world do you know that?”
“Mama saved it. In fact, it was still folded in the box and tucked away in her dresser. I’m positive she never wore it.”
“It doesn’t surprise me. Henry was in bad shape for a long time. Knowing Franny, I’ll bet she put the nightgown away and never looked at it again.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and thought about how hurt and alone she must have felt. Poor Mama.
Stella had painted a picture of my mother I’d never considered. I imagined her as a happy young woman, bright and full of hope. I could see her riffling through the mail, looking for a letter from Daddy, and I could envision her in that dress shop, her green eyes shining, her red hair swinging free as she admired the nightgown. What had it felt like to be that excited and in love? And what was it like to have so many years of disappointments chip away at her spirit?
“I took Mama’s nightgown home with me last fall when I cleaned out the house. But here’s what I don’t understand. She got upset when I saved things that belonged to Josh. She said the past was the past and best forgotten, or something to that effect. So why would she have saved that nightgown?”
The lines in Stella’s face deepened. “I don’t know, honey. Maybe she couldn’t let go of that one memory. That girl never had anything work out. I swear, it was like she was trying to run with water cupped in her hands.”
I flopped back against the cushion, suddenly tired and nearly intoxicated by the thick scent of lavender. I was also feeling the weight of guilt. I couldn’t even look at Stella when I said, “And then she tried to help me by making arrangements at that secretarial school and buying me a typewriter. And I thanked her by up and running away in the middle of the night. I hurt her terribly, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Teddi, you did. Now, I’m not passing judgment—I’m only trying to tell you her side of things.” Stella fell quiet for a few moments and slowly rubbed her fingertips along a piece of ribbon. “When your brother disappeared, it about killed her.”
“But she was so angry. I can’t count how many times she said it was all my fault.”
“That’s the only way she could deal with it. It was her anger that kept her from coming apart at the seams. She knew it wasn’t your fault. That’s one of the reasons she wanted to spend time with you—to try and make amends.”
Stella wiped away a tear. “I never dreamed she wouldn’t get out of that hospital. Franny was a wonderful friend to me for over sixty years. I loved her more than I do my own sister. Not a day goes by that I don’t reach for the phone to give her a call. I miss her so much.”
I took hold of Stella’s hand and we sat quietly for several minutes. “So when did Daddy get himself straightened out?”
“Oh, goodness, it wasn’t until your mother was pregnant with you that he really made a turnaround.”
“It took that long? They were married for twelve years before I was born.”
“Yes, that long. You were a big surprise. The doctor said she couldn’t have children. When Franny told Henry she was expecting, he was so happy that he hardly knew what to do with himself. For the first time since he’d come home from the war, Franny saw a glimmer of the man she’d married. Oh, my word, he made such a fuss when you were born that your mother was a little hurt and—”
“Hurt?”
Stella fiddled with the hem of her apron, wadding up one corner and then smoothing it out, only to wad it up again. “She said it felt like a slap in the face, as if being a father was more important than being a husband.”
“But Daddy came around and she got him back, so what difference would it make how it happened?”
Stella slowly shook her head. “No, Teddi. She never got her husband back. That man was gone, just as sure as if he’d come back in a pine box.”
I let out a heavy sigh and massaged my temples.
“Oh, Teddi. I’m sorry your mother wasn’t able to visit you in Charleston so she could explain these things herself. She was so excited about the trip.”
“Really?”
“Yes. She really was. Once she made up her mind to go, that’s all she talked about. So whenever you’re feelin’ blue and thinking about your mother, just remember that she loved you, Teddi. Now, I know she sometimes had a hard time showin’ it, but she did.”
Lifting a sachet to my nose, I closed my eyes and inhaled the lavender. “I loved her, too.”
After dinner Stella and I sat at the kitchen table and played gin rummy. When it began to grow dark, I excused myself and went into the bedroom. It felt good to get out of my jeans and change into the soft warmth of flannel pajamas. While pulling on a pair of clean socks, I glanced into my open suitcase and whispered, “You ready?”
I walked into the living room where Stella was sitting on one end of the sofa engrossed in her cross-stitch. Lowering myself onto the other end, I gently placed my mother’s urn on the cushion between us.
“I brought Mama back. I’ve had her in Charleston for a lot longer than she was planning to stay. I had the feeling that she wanted to come home and be with her best girlfriend.”
Stella’s eyes filled with tears. Reaching out, she rested her hand over the urn and sat like that for the longest time. I wondered what she was thinking.
I put my hand on top of hers and smiled. “I think it’s time we set Mama free.”
Drawing a handkerchief from her apron pocket, Stella wiped her eyes. “Franny was fond of my rose garden. Should we scatter her there?”
“I think she’d like that.”
Stella set her cross-stitch aside and pushed herself up from the sofa. “I’ll be right back.”
But she didn’t come right back, and just as I was about to see if she was all right, she walked out wearing a heavy sweater and carrying a folded paper in her hand. I slipped into my shoes, pulled my jacket over my pajamas, and together we walked outside. We said nothing while making our way toward the rose garden at
the back of the property.
As I held Mama’s urn in my arms, Stella read from the piece of paper. “‘I’ve said good-bye, away I’ll fly. I’m on my way back home . . .’”
When Stella finished, I could hardly see through my tears to open the urn’s lid.
Taking turns, we dipped our hands inside and let the cool evening breeze sweep the ashes from our palms. After the last dusting of Mama had swirled from sight, Stella took hold of my hand. We said nothing as we walked back to the house, but I smiled to myself as I glanced over my shoulder and wondered where Mama would be off to first.
THIRTY-TWO
I woke to the aroma of bacon sizzling in the griddle, and when I padded into the kitchen, Stella looked up from the stove. “Good morning, honey. Breakfast is almost ready.” While she scrambled eggs, I buttered the toast, and then we sat at the table in our robes, reading the morning paper and talking while the sun spread its warmth across the new day.
At nine forty-five I was showered, dressed, and ready to go. While I double-checked the departure time on my airline ticket, Stella walked out of her bedroom. “I wish you could stay longer,” she said, picking fuzz from the cuff of her sweater.
“If I weren’t swamped with work, I would. But I’ll be back.”
“Promise?”
I gave her a hug. “Yes, I promise.”
From a hook by the door, she removed her keys, and we set off for the farm in separate cars.
When I rounded the bend and the farm came into view, I could hardly believe my eyes. Parked along both sides of the driveway and along the tractor path were cars and trucks, even a few motorcycles. Two teenage boys in bright red T-shirts directed me to the field at the far end of the barn. In the rearview mirror, I saw Stella following directly behind me as we bounced our way to the makeshift parking lot. We had a long walk to reach the backyard, and I took hold of her arm and guided her through the rough spots.
The barn door was wide open and flanked by bouquets of balloons that had been tied to stainless-steel milk cans. People walked in and out, chatting and drinking tea and coffee. I laughed when Oscar belted out his eight hoots: “Who looks at you . . . Who looks at you.”
At least two hundred people were gathered in the backyard, some talking in groups, others filling their plates from long tables draped in gingham. Trays filled with strudels and breakfast rolls covered the tabletops, and bowls of colorful fresh fruit glistened in the morning sun. Several donation boxes crafted to look like birdhouses were placed on the tables, and easels had been set up throughout the property, each one featuring an eight-by-ten photograph of an animal or bird. Beneath each photo was the animal’s name—Hootie, Morris, Chucky, Ella, and so many others. Stapled to the easels were brief stories of how each one had been rescued and rehabilitated.
When Stella stopped to talk with an elderly couple, I stepped into the throng. The first person I recognized was Ranger Jim. I fought back tears when he gave me a hug and whispered into my ear, “Not a day goes by I don’t think about your brother. Such a fine young man.”
For the next hour, I spoke with people I hadn’t seen in years—former Deputy Sheriff Jeb Davis and his wife, neighboring farmers and shopkeepers—all of them lending their support. And there was the younger crowd, too, friends of Gabe and Sally. Just as I’d finished talking with Joe Springer, Gabe grabbed me by the arm.
“Hi,” I said, giving him a hug. “I was wondering where you were.”
“Sally and I have been in the barn showing people the renovations. Ella’s charmed everyone. I think she’s the best spokesperson we could have. The donation box by her cage is already full. And Oscar’s in rare form,” Gabe said with a laugh. “He won’t shut up. Hey, did you meet my mom and dad?”
“Yes, they’re lovely. And I met Sally’s parents, too.”
Gabe tugged me forward. “C’mon and meet Sally.”
Though over a dozen young women were in the barn, somehow I knew which one was Sally. Standing every bit of five feet ten with a head full of thick black curls, she had a strong and calm bearing. With large, capable hands resting her on hips and a tilt to her head, she watched Gabe and me approach from behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.
Just as Gabe introduced us, a young man rushed from the crowd, all but crushing Gabe in a bear hug. He literally carried Gabe off, laughing like a hyena. Sally laughed, too, and then she turned her attention to me. “So,” she said, looking directly into my eyes, “I didn’t know if you were some rich hussy trying to sugar-mama my man or if you were a saint.”
Before I could speak, she stepped forward and wrapped me in her arms. “Thank God you’re a saint!”
I laughed nervously, feeling a bit off kilter.
She released me and motioned toward the door. “I have something to show you.”
We walked out of the barn, Sally talking about the plans she and Gabe had for the farm and describing the renovations they’d started inside the house.
“Have you set a date for your wedding?” I asked.
“Not yet, but we’ve decided against a formal wedding. My mother is devastated, but personally I think they’re a big waste of money. I’d much rather have an X-ray machine.” As we neared the road, she pointed to the field at the right of the driveway. “See those pink surveyor’s markers? That’s where we’ll build the clinic. If everything goes as planned, we hope to break ground in a year. It’ll be fantastic to run the clinic and the rehab center from a single location.”
“Will you have a surgery center?”
“Yes.” Sally’s eyes brightened as she described her ideas and what kind of equipment she and Gabe hoped to buy. “And we’ll hold educational classes in the barn. Gabe wants to formulate a summer day-camp program where he’ll take kids on hikes and teach them about wildlife.”
She abruptly stopped talking and looked toward the barn, then the house, and then at me. “I still can’t believe that all this is happening. We don’t know how to thank you, Teddi. My gosh, you showed up out of nowhere and just handed this to us, and we—”
“Hey, Sally!” Gabe called, trotting down the driveway and pointing to his wristwatch. “It’s time.”
“C’mon.” She took hold of my arm and pulled me toward the house.
People were gathering around the shrouded sign and spilling into the edge of the field. Sally tugged me to the center of the front yard. “Stay right here,” she ordered, and then left to join Gabe.
Stella pushed her way through the crowd and stood next to me. “My goodness, this is quite a turnout. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”
After Gabe and Sally unwrapped the ropes that held the tarp in place, they stood flanking the sign. Gabe raised his hands, and when everyone grew silent, he took a moment and scanned the crowd. Then his voice boomed through the crisp air. “This is a big day for Sally and me, and we want to thank each and every one of you for joining us. None of this could have happened without the kindness and generosity of Teddi Overman. When I met Teddi this past spring, I asked if she’d tell me about her brother, Josh. Well, she did, and I’ve never been the same since.
“From the time he was born, Josh loved and respected nature. He was quiet, gentle, and courageous. It was no secret that he had a gift—a connection with animals and birds that defied logic and mystified the lucky few who witnessed it. His story is remarkable. It’s a story I’ll never forget. And to make certain this entire community never forgets, Sally and I would now like to unveil the sign.”
With a dramatic flourish and a loud snap of fabric, Gabe and Sally whipped back the tarp. Applause exploded from the crowd, and from behind me I heard someone burst into tears.
The wind picked up. Crimson leaves spun in pirouettes before letting go of their branches . . . falling, falling so lightly before coming to rest in people’s hair, on their shoulders, and onto the ground. Over and over I read the sign tha
t stood before me:
MENEWA
THE JOSH OVERMAN WILDLIFE RESCUE & REHABILITATION CENTER
All those years of pent-up emotion let loose, and I turned and wept into the softness of Stella’s shoulder. It took me several minutes to catch my breath, and when I finally lifted my head, Stella dipped her hand inside the front of her dress and pulled out a tissue. I felt like a child as she held my chin and wiped away a river of mascara. She was crying, too. From over her shoulder, I saw Jeb Davis take a handkerchief from his back pocket and swipe it beneath his eyes.
Sally cupped her hands around her mouth and called out, “We have one last surprise, and believe me, y’all don’t want to miss it!” While she began ushering everyone up the driveway, Stella and I fell in line.
When we reached the side of the house, Gabe trotted up and looked at Stella. “I need to steal Teddi for a few minutes.”
Stella eyed the pastry table and said, “You two go on. I’ll be right here.”
He led me up the driveway and into the barn. “It’s time for the grand finale,” he said, sliding the door closed. “We’d be honored if you’d do the release.”
My stomach flipped at the thrill of it. “Really? I get to send Oscar back into the wild?”
Gabe smiled and removed two pairs of brown suede gloves from a cupboard. After handing me a pair and making sure they fit, he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a plastic bag filled with strips of raw meat. I followed him to the bird room, but he didn’t stop at Oscar’s cage. Sliding the security latch and opening the back door, he turned toward me. “I lied to you. Oscar’s not ready for release. But Noah is. He’s waiting for you, Teddi. He wants to go home.”