A Long Time Comin'

by Robin W. Pearson

  Evelyn closed her eyes to hide her shame, but she knew she could not hide the truth. She owned up to it by uttering the only four words she could manage, the only words that might make a difference at the moment.

  “Will you forgive me?”

  ——————

  After dinner that night, still in the forgiving mood, Evelyn decided to reach out to Kevin. She intended to extend the tiniest of olive branches and let him know how she was faring in the fiery furnace. Granny B had announced after dinner that she had some things to do and had retired to her room, so Evelyn had time on her hands. She hoped they’d talk again, but she thought Granny B’s daily Energizer Bunny routine had worn her out, although she would never admit it or alter it in any way.

  Quickly, before she could change her mind, Evelyn tapped out: Hey. Just checking in. While she waited for Kevin to answer the text message, she propped her feet on the porch rail and sat back to relish the scenery. She’d settled down on the front porch in the chair directly to the left of the door, close enough to hear Granny B if she called out, not that she expected her to.

  It was nearly eight, yet the night air dripped water. Lightning bugs flickered in the twilight and unseen crickets peeped somewhere beyond the expanse of dirt Granny B called her front yard. Evelyn swatted mosquitoes that discovered her hiding on the porch, but she determined they wouldn’t spoil her few moments alone, outside the four walls of Granny B’s house.

  The phone chirped beside her. She almost dropped it on the concrete in her haste to answer it. “Hello? Kevin?”

  “Yes. Ev.” Kevin’s answer was terse, his voice slightly hoarse.

  Belatedly, Evelyn realized that it was almost 1 a.m. in London. “Oh, Kevin! I’m sorry! Were you asleep? I forgot that you were five hours ahead.” But now that you’re on the phone, you’d better talk to me. I really need to talk, Kevin.

  She heard rustling in the background. At first she pictured him shifting in the bed, rustling the sheets, getting more comfortable. But then she heard voices, and he cleared his throat. When he spoke, it wasn’t to her but off to the side, to someone else. Was it another woman? It’s one o’clock in the morning! Were those bedsheets?

  When Kevin spoke to her again, he sounded more alert. “Evelyn? Is there anything wrong? Has something else happened?”

  Oh no, no, nothing’s wrong. Well, nothing else is wrong, other than the fact that Granny B is dying, and I’m carrying your child. Her words almost cut her lips they were so stiff, brittle. “I hadn’t heard from you. I just called to update you.”

  “What are you talking about, you hadn’t heard from me? You told me not to call.” His voice was a whisper, but Evelyn could tell that he’d walked away from whatever background noise she’d picked up on when he’d answered the phone.

  “Yes, but I thought you might be concerned since I’d had the accident . . .” She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rekindle those feelings that had prompted her to call in the first place. “And I missed you.”

  Silence spanned the distance between them.

  “Kevin? Are you there? Did you hear—?”

  “Of course I heard you. And I miss you, too, Evelyn. I just wish you had called earlier. I’m in the middle—” But a voice called his name then.

  That is a woman’s voice!

  “I’m sorry. I see you’re busy. That’s not Samantha Jane, is it?”

  “Saman—? Of course not! Evelyn . . .” Thousands of miles of swirling ocean waters couldn’t drown out the breath Kevin expelled. “Eric and I are out with some key clients, and they want to wine and dine all night. And of course, I’ve got an early meeting—”

  “Okay, okay, Kevin, I get the message.” Evelyn had already tired of the conversation, such as it was. “I didn’t really call to get a rundown of your day. I already know how important you are. And you don’t owe me an explanation at this point.”

  “Ev, why don’t you dismount from that high horse and—”

  “What do you say you go back to your . . . meeting . . . and we talk another time? Take care and—”

  “Wait, Evelyn! Don’t hang up! Back up a minute. You said you wanted to tell me something. What is it?” Kevin’s tone became more conciliatory, like he strove to salvage the wreckage of their conversation. He sounded more like the husband who had begged her not to move out than the distracted marketing executive who had answered the phone.

  “No, Kevin, don’t worry about it. Good luck, have fun with all that stuff that you’re really good at doing, and we’ll talk some other time, when it’s more convenient.” Full of attitude, Evelyn pushed End. Thinking about it for only a second, she then held the Power Off button. Why did I really call him anyway? What did I plan to talk about? Would I really hand him the news that I’m pregnant, with him thousands of miles away in some hotel room?

  Evelyn stood and stretched. The lightning bugs and the chirping crickets had lost their allure, thanks to her husband and a few bloodthirsty mosquitoes. She pivoted to head inside. And ran smack into Granny B’s steady gaze.

  “Oh! Granny B! You scared me!” She covered her heart with her hand. “Where are you going?”

  “Outside.” Granny B’s eyes flickered to the phone. “I hear you talkin’?”

  Evelyn waved her phone. “Yeah, I tried to call Kevin.”

  “You tried? He ain’t there?” Granny B pushed open the screen and stepped out onto the porch.

  “He’s there, all right. But he’s busy. I told him we could talk tomorrow.” Evelyn watched closely as Granny B sat down in the chair she’d just vacated. Is she moving more stiffly?

  “From what I heard, you told him that you would talk some other time, when it was mo’ convenient. And you didn’t sound none too happy ’bout it neither.”

  “Granny B! You were eavesdropping!” Evelyn was shocked not so much that she had, but that she admitted it.

  “I ain’t did no such thang. I was on my way to the porch and I heard you talkin’. Now, who’s Samantha Jane?”

  “What else did you hear while you were walking to the door?”

  “Nuthin’. You didn’t say much more’n that—’fo’ you hung up on him.” Granny B folded her arms and looked at her granddaughter. “How is Kevin?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Prob’ly ’cause you just got off the phone with him, and it seemed like the right thang to do. But if you don’t wont to say nuthin’ ’bout him—”

  “I thought you might have something specific in mind, that’s all. Kevin’s fine. He’s working hard and long, and he loves it. You know he’s in Europe?”

  “Yeah, you and yo’ mama both told me fifty-’leven times. He need to slow down some if he too busy to talk to his wife when she call halfway round the world.”

  Evelyn started counting lightning bugs. “You would think,” she agreed low under her breath.

  “Did you call to tell him?”

  Evelyn had worked her way up to thirteen. “Hmm? Tell him what?”

  Granny B’s silence screamed the obvious.

  She forsook counting lightning bugs and enumerated the stars instead. She got to number seventeen before she replied, “I don’t know why I called. Either way, I didn’t tell him. And I thought that subject was one of the things we weren’t going to discuss.”

  Granny B’s eyebrows rose. “Who said? Them one of yo’ rules?”

  “I don’t have any rules per se. I just thought today we agreed that we’d let the other person live her own life.”

  “I didn’t say I was gon’ carry that baby for you.” Granny B paused. “So when you gon’ tell him?”

  Evelyn inhaled deeply and exhaled on a count of ten. “Granny B, I’m not really up for this right now. I’m exhausted, I’m sore, and to be honest with you, I’m pretty ticked off with my husband right now. Please, let’s not get into this.” She reached for the handle of the screen door. “I’m going to bed, something you were supposed to do ages ago.”

  “I ’mem
ber,” Granny B said quietly in the night as if to the dancing lightning bugs, “when I found out I was carryin’ Milton. I just sat down and cried. For days. I had missed my mont’ly, so I knew what was goin’ on, but I just kept hopin’ and wishin’—who knows, I might even’ve said a prayer or two.” Granny B went silent, obviously thinking back. “I just couldn’t be pregnant.”

  Granny B’s soft voice halted her granddaughter’s exodus more abruptly than any command. Evelyn leaned against the door.

  “Early on, I was so tired, I didn’t thank I was gon’ make it through breakfast. But there was the washin’, the cleanin’, the cookin’. All them children. And Henton, he wan’t no kinda help, not that I wanted his anyway. Many a time I thought about drinkin’ some lye or throwin’ myself down the back steps. I even considered goin’ to visit Mae Sheridan, this woman who could arrange thangs back in those days.”

  “Granny B! You—” Evelyn was shocked by her admission, by the ugliness of it. She wondered if her grandmother regretted those feelings after all that she’d been through with Milton. But does Granny B ever regret anything?

  “Gal, stop catchin’ flies and close yo’ mouth. You cain’t tell me you hadn’t tried to wish away yo’ baby any less’n I tried to. And why? ’Cause you scared you gon’ be raisin’ that baby all by yo’ lonesome in that big house? Hmmmpf. I learned there was worse thangs to worry ’bout . . .” Granny B propped both her hands on her knees, her elbows bowed out at right angles as she surveyed the darkness in front of her. “I had all them children, each tryin’ to get a piece of me, and here I come up with another one.”

  “So what made you decide to have the baby?”

  Granny B studied the darkness for a long time. Finding nothing in the heavy air, she seemed to reach somewhere deep inside for the unvarnished truth. “The steps weren’t high enough,” she stated flatly.

  Evelyn’s hands worked to hold her heart in her chest as she took a step back. “It’s Milton’s life you’re mourning, Granny B?”

  “Don’t sound too saintly—is that what you thanking? God gon’ send a lightnin’ strike, and yo’ hair might get burnt?”

  But her grandmother didn’t duck or cower. And her face didn’t reflect fear or self-loathing, let alone anything close to piety, sainthood, or repentance. Evelyn looked away from that vacant expression to catch her breath and mask her own shock and confusion. When she turned back, Granny B was peering out into the yard. Evelyn touched her shoulder. “Granny B?”

  “That last pregnancy was the hardest on me. And so was the birthin’. I really thought he was gon’ tear me wide open. Maybe he knew from the beginnin’ he wan’t wonted.” Granny B talked more to herself than to Evelyn. Her shrug seemed to shake off the memory. Her sudden movement also shook her granddaughter’s hand from her shoulder. “Sit down, gal.”

  Thrown off-kilter by her change of mood, Evelyn crouched on the top step and half turned to face her.

  “If you don’t learn nuthin’ from me, learn this: Don’t go into this with a bunch of second thoughts and hard feelin’s. What’s done is done, and they ain’t no undoin’ it. So you might as well stop messin’ up yo’ mind and go on and tell yo’ husband and yo’ mama. If you don’t, you just makin’ it harder on yo’self and this baby.” Granny B pursed her lips and muttered, almost to herself, “Secrets ain’t no good for nobody.” Louder, she pronounced, “Life is God’s gift, somethin’ I didn’t come to appreciate in time.”

  “You’ve still got some time, so what about you and your gift, Granny B?” Being who she was, and whose child and grandchild she was, Evelyn felt obligated to hold up the mirror so her grandmother could see herself just as clearly. “I know some people who would be very interested in hearing what you have to say, who deserve to know as much as you say Kevin and Mama deserve to know about mine.” She braced herself for reprisal, but the older woman surprised Evelyn. Which shouldn’t have surprised her at all.

  Granny B inclined her head slightly. “You may have a point. Gettin’ this cleared up now means less confusion later when I’ll be too busy dyin’ to fight.”

  Evelyn’s heart quickened a beat and her stomach flip-flopped. “So what do you mean? I can tell Mama? You want me to call Aunt—?”

  Granny B looked at her, her body bent in a forty-five-degree angle, a hand on each arm of the chair she was using to push herself upright. “So that means you wont me to call yo’ husband and tell him yo’ news?” She stood completely straight then and reached out toward Evelyn’s phone. “Just tell me the number. I’ll call him right now. I’m sure Kevin still tryin’ to get through since you hung up on him. If he ain’t mad yet, he will be in just a minute.”

  Evelyn laughed so hard, she snorted. Finally she composed herself. Her nose ran, and her stomach ached from the exertion, but it sure felt good. When she looked at Granny B, she saw that she was still inclined toward her with an outstretched hand. “I’ll do my own dirty work, thank you very much. You can do yours.”

  Granny B cracked a smile. The sight of it actually stopped Evelyn’s laughter cold. “Well, then. We both need to get to bed. We got a beautiful day to ruin for a lotta folk and not much time to do it in.” She let the screen door slam closed behind her. “Good night, chile.”

  “Good night, Granny B.” As Granny B hobbled to her room, Evelyn sat peering into the yard with a lighter heart, her spirit dancing with the lightning bugs.

  Chapter Ten

  A COOL BREEZE WAFTED through the mesh. Nothing ventured out but a fat black spider spinning a web in the top right corner of the porch. When the screen door creaked open, it skittered into the corner and played dead. Beatrice stepped out and bent to lace up her walking shoes.

  Heavy-lidded, peering out at the world that appeared to have as lazy an aim as she, her granddaughter sat up from the lounger and drawled, “Where are you going in this heat?”

  Beatrice could tell Evelyn was enjoying her roost, holding an icy glass of decaffeinated mint tea. She’d been eyeing her from the doorway for the better part of ten minutes, and the only part of Evelyn that had moved were the damp tendrils of hair on her forehead and the hem of her loose cotton dress when tickled by the wind.

  “For a walk. And it ain’t that hot.” She hid her grunt of pain when she started down the steps. “I need to get out a bit. This house startin’ to close in on me.”

  “Can I go?”

  “I don’t know. Can you?”

  “No, I mean, may I?”

  “No, I mean, can you?” This chile gon’ make me change my mind ’bout going. “You thank you can walk?”

  “Sure. I mean, I guess.”

  “You not feelin’ too weak ’cause you preg—?”

  “Granny B, I said I’ll be all right. As hard as you’ve had me working, this walk will be a nice change of pace.”

  “But what about—?”

  “Granny B! I said I’m okay. Now please, let’s go.”

  Beatrice pointed at Evelyn’s feet. “Seems to me like you need to put some shoes on ’fo’ we go.”

  Fifteen minutes later Beatrice turned with a sneaker-clad Evelyn onto Deep River Road. The older woman folded back the brim of her straw hat and squinted up at the trees. Red-breasted robins perched on branches, calling to each other. They strolled down the middle of the deserted road, as there was no sidewalk to speak of and no traffic to impede their trip. Beatrice carried in her left hand a large stick that she kept propped beside her front porch. She swung it to and fro—when she wasn’t leaning on it. “Just in case some dog thankin’ ’bout doin’ somethin’ foolish, he might better thank again,” she explained.

  After forty-five minutes the two neared an intersection where Deep River Road crossed Ann F. Gladwell Way, a road named for a long-dead woman who had taught people in that area how to read. At this crossroads, Deep River Road’s asphalt changed to packed dirt. On either side of the four-way, gold- and green-speckled fields stretched for acres. Here, Beatrice turned 360 degrees in the middle of the road. S
he didn’t care that Evelyn stood back, watching, waiting.

  At last Beatrice stopped, partially facing the crossroads, her back to Evelyn. She pointed left with her stick. “See that field there? That belong to Booker, who brang me all them veg’ables.” She rotated slightly so that her stick encompassed all the land around them. “His daddy owned all this land, and his daddy ’fo’ that, but Booker gambled it all away, all ’cept this patch over here.”

  Beatrice’s hand fell to her side and she bore down on the stick. “On summer mornings, I didn’t let the rooster finish crowin’ ’fo’ I had the chillun up and out the house.”

  “They worked hard.”

  “You thank that hard work? Keepin’ all them chillun fed and clothed, now that was hard work. They had it easy. ’Sides, Booker let us keep part of what they brought in, and we ate off that all winter.”

  “But they were children, Granny B.”

  “Chillun? And what was I? At the time, ’Lis’beth wan’t much younger than I was when I started havin’ all them. If I was old enough to have ’em, then they was old enough to pick a couple veg’ables in the summertime. How did you ’spect me to keep a roof over they heads while they daddy was off seein’ the world and makin’ a name for hisself? I couldn’t do it all. Believe me, I had to do much worse to keep the wolf from the do’.”

  Beatrice focused on the waving grasses that stretched to meet a copse at the far edge of the property. “And sometimes he got in anyway,” she added quietly.

  She snatched up her stick and walked in the direction from which they had come. “You gon’ let a dyin’ woman walk faster than you?” She didn’t intend to give Evelyn time to ask any questions. She’d gotten a few steps ahead before speaking again.