A Long Time Comin'

by Robin W. Pearson

  “Yes, Mrs. Johnson?”

  “She told me to tell you she’s at the Skillet.”

  Granny B, why do I keep underestimating you? “Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. Be careful out here in this sun.”

  “Gal, you’d best believe I’ll catch that sun before it catches me.” She waved the hoe one last time as she touched her hat with one gloved hand.

  Evelyn ignored the Speed Limit 45 signs, making the ten-minute drive in eight. She slowed down once she reached downtown, an area so designated because it had a Piggly Wiggly, a few storefronts with uneven lettering hand-painted on their front windows, a Shell gas station, a drugstore, the Skillet, and Mr. Fulton’s general store centered around an octagon. Evelyn parked in one of the many empty spaces along Main Street. An old truck clunked by. When it passed, she spotted her: Granny B in the Skillet’s picture window, enjoying an early lunch.

  ——————

  From her perch in the booth to the right of the door, Beatrice watched Evelyn look both ways as she waddled across the street. She took another bite from her plate of rice, steak and gravy, and black-eyed peas as her granddaughter scooted in across from her.

  Beatrice nodded hello to an older couple leaving the restaurant. “What took you so long to find me? I had to start without you.” She took another forkful and spared a glance at the slender watch on her left wrist. “It’s past time for my nap.”

  “You’re right. But I had some—”

  Just then a server set down a plate of steamed cabbage, fried pork chops, and macaroni and cheese and a glass of lemonade. “What’s this?”

  “I thought I’d order you some food, as it is after—”

  “Noon, yes, you told me. But you never eat out.” She picked up the utensils wrapped tightly in the paper napkin.

  “Why pay for somebody else to cook what I got in my own house?” Granny B tucked into the remaining bit of food in front of her. She’d been waiting a long time.

  Evelyn sliced the crunchy yet succulent chop. “Mmmm.”

  “Yes, these folks can sho’ nuff cook.” Beatrice smiled to herself as Evelyn put down her utensils and used her hands. She slurped her sweetened iced tea as her granddaughter enjoyed her bite. “You know, this is where the church got them plates of food they used ta send me. As much as I hated to see that preacher when he came callin’, I couldn’t turn him away for fear he’d stop lettin’ Ruthena bring me a plate.” She sipped again, her fingers playing in the ring of sweat the frosty mason jar had left on the table. Beatrice would pay for this splurge later, but her stomach was just going to have to sit tight until she got home.

  “So why are we here today?” Evelyn drank from her own jar.

  “’Cause we celebratin’.” Beatrice watched Evelyn chew.

  “Celebrating what?”

  She pushed away her plate and from nowhere a hand whisked it away. Another refilled her tea. She raised her freshened glass to her granddaughter. “Let’s call it a home-goin’ party.”

  Evelyn rested her fork on her plate and stared at her grandma’s raised glass. “You expect me to toast to your leukemia?”

  Beatrice set down her mason jar. “Girl, this yo’ home-goin’ party. And if you ain’t gon’ drink that lemonade, at least finish your lunch.” She nodded at Evelyn’s fork.

  “How’d you know I was going home?”

  Beatrice picked up her tea. “I didn’t. I was just hopin’.” She closed her eyes in appreciation as she swallowed another mouthful. She could feel Evelyn’s eyes on her.

  “You think you know a whole lot about a whole lot, don’t you?”

  Beatrice gazed out at the tableau on the other side of the window. “I ain’t sayin’ I know ’bout a lot. I just happen to be right about what I do know.” She snickered a little, confident about the truth in her words. Evelyn joined in as a truck bound for the Piggly Wiggly ambled noisily by. “Just how long you been here?”

  “Six or seven weeks.”

  “Then I’d say ’bout a month too long.”

  Evelyn held her tongue—and her fork.

  “I know you don’t thank so, but ’Lis’beth sho’ do.”

  “So Mama’s been talking about me, huh?”

  “No mor’n usual. But I been thankin’ ’bout the reason you stayed round here so long.” She paused as Evelyn took another bite of pork chop. “’Cause you know I’m gon’ do or die whether you stay or go.” She held her granddaughter’s eyes prisoner as she looked up from her plate. “You must have other reasons why you still hangin’ round.”

  “Isn’t it enough I’m leaving now?”

  “But you was leavin’ then, too. Leavin’ Kevin. This baby stopped you from what you was plannin’, didn’t it? ’Bout to throw yo’ life away for what? What dreams you thank he keepin’ you from?”

  Evelyn fiddled with the knife and fork like she was ready to carve her grandmother into tiny pieces. “Maybe the same dreams Hewitt stole from you!”

  Flames licked the corners of Beatrice’s eyes.

  Evelyn looked down. “I’m sorry—”

  “No, you not.”

  “You wear me out, Granny B. I came down here to say good-bye, to apologize, not to get riled up by—”

  “By the truth? You know my story, and now I know yours, at least some of it. Was he beatin’ you?”

  Evelyn shook her head vigorously.

  “Drugs?” She peered intently at Evelyn for a telltale sign—a twitch, a blink, a sideways look. “Was he messin’ round?”

  Evelyn crisscrossed her utensils over her remaining food. Her arms followed suit over her chest.

  “Oh . . . so that’s it.” Beatrice’s heart was like tiny pebbles scattering about in her chest. She measured her granddaughter’s pain. “But now you goin’ home, so that means . . . what? What done changed?”

  “Me.” When Evelyn said it, her eyes didn’t waver. She even smiled a little.

  Beatrice smiled then, too. She wouldn’t spoil her granddaughter’s mood by admitting she’d had a heart-to-heart with her Kevin. “Seems you found somethin’ it took me most my life to put my hands on.”

  “But you’ve been saved a long time, Granny B.”

  “I ain’t talkin’ ’bout salvation. I’m talking ’bout grace, chile. Somethin’ I didn’t know how to accept or give, even to myself. But I’m learnin’. I’m glad you didn’t wait as long as I did.”

  Beatrice reclined against the leatherette cushion. “Now I ain’t makin’ no excuses ’bout what I done in my life—or what’s been done to me. I ain’t gon’ tell you God says this or that. But you got some sense, gal, or I been wastin’ my time with you all these years. Whatever you was plannin’, you got different plans now. I don’t care if Kevin been travelin’ round the world without so much as a postcard—you somebody’s mama and somebody’s wife. You hear me?”

  “I hear you.”

  “You better. ’Cause I can tell you there wan’t gon’ be nuthin’ waitin’ fo’ you on the other side of thangs. Hewitt found that out, and Henton sho’ knowed it.”

  “How do you know Hewitt found that out?”

  “He wrote me a letter and told me so hisself.” Granny B inclined her head Evelyn’s way. “You got the letter. Read it and see fo’ yo’self.” She watched her granddaughter’s thoughts travel back. Beatrice wanted Evelyn to know it was okay to read it now.

  Evelyn flushed. “Granny B—”

  “Hush now, gal. We ain’t got time for all that. That’s over and done with. I just hope you learn that they ain’t no value in runnin’. I know you fed up wit’ me fo’ stayin’. I’m fed up wit’ you for leavin’.”

  “Keep my vows like you did, come hell or high water?”

  Beatrice didn’t hear any condemnation, just curiosity. “No, not like I did, but yes, keep your vows. Looks to me yo’ hair a little burnt and yo’ feet wet already.”

  Evelyn inclined her head. “Well, I’m not going anywhere, Granny B. Trust me. It was just an idea, a way I thought I could learn a
bout myself.”

  Beatrice brayed. “You wan’t tryin’ to learn nuthin’ ’bout yo’self. You was tryin’ to teach that man of yours a lesson. But he’ll learn, Ev’lyn. That Kevin seem like a smart enough fella, even if he don’t always think wit’ the head on his shoulders. Ain’t nobody perfect. Give him some time—and a whack upside the head with a broom. He’ll learn.”

  Evelyn sat there looking at her Granny B and then she laughed, too. She laughed until she cried. And then she couldn’t stop crying.

  “Now stop that. I brought you up here so you couldn’t do all that,” Beatrice hissed. Evelyn could scream and laugh and shout all she wanted, but as far as Beatrice was concerned, out in public was no place to cry.

  This seemed to make Evelyn laugh again. “How did you get so wise, Granny B?”

  Beatrice’s eyes again consumed the scene beyond the window. “You know how, Ev’lyn. And I don’t never wont you to get as wise as I am.” Yes, you through laughin’ for now, but I prob’ly got mo’ tears on the way.

  It was time to go. Beatrice pushed her way to the counter and insisted on paying the $11.45 for their meal. As she led the way from the Skillet, she felt a tentative touch on her shoulder. She turned to her granddaughter.

  “I know, Granny B. Really. I know. And I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

  Anyone else might have inquired, “Sorry for what?” But not Beatrice, because she didn’t have to. This was the second time Evelyn had asked her, but this time the girl knew what needed to be forgiven. Beatrice could feel the weight of her regrets, the sincerity of her repentance. They balanced her own. Beatrice stretched to her full height and grabbed the young woman by her chin. She pulled Evelyn’s face closer, leaned in . . . and thumped her on her forehead. As hard as her bony fingers could manage.

  “Ow!”

  “That’s for not mindin’ yo’ own business!” She reached into the front pocket of her green skirt and extracted an envelope. “This is for you, too, but it shouldn’t hurt as much. Now get on home. I got thangs to do in town.”

  Evelyn cradled the letter to her chest. “I planned to drive you home.”

  “You know and I know that you need to take yo’self home.” She held up a hand. “It’s the truth, Ev’lyn. I don’t need no car and driver. I got here on my own two feet, didn’t I?”

  “But you didn’t have any business walking all the way here.”

  “And you thank I need you here to tell me that?”

  “Well—”

  “And since you know that, stop wastin’ my time.”

  Evelyn shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Go on, now.” Beatrice waved her on.

  “Oka-a-a-y. If you’re sure . . . ?” At Beatrice’s curt nod, Evelyn inched in the direction of the Impala glowing on the opposite side of the street. “I’ll be back. I’ll see you soon.”

  Just then, a car loaded with Spring Hope teenagers whizzed between them. Evelyn missed Beatrice’s hushed “God willing.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “PLEASE, GOD, don’t let Daddy die. Please, God, don’t let Daddy die . . .” Evelyn huddled in the second pew. She’d run to the tiny hospital chapel to escape her mama’s stricken face and Yolanda’s and Lionel’s wide eyes. Even baby Jackson looked frightened, all bundled up in his puffy red snowsuit. Neither the emergency room nurses nor Grandpa Willis could pry the youngster from her mama’s grip. Evelyn couldn’t catch her breath, staring at Daddy, all covered in tape and bandages, tubes hanging everywhere. The iron bed railings imprisoned her larger-than-life hero, keeping them from him and him from them. He couldn’t move in that bed. And she couldn’t keep her legs from moving, churning their way to the only safe place she could find. “Please, God, don’t let Daddy die . . .”

  “Gal, you need to get up from there and come with me.”

  Evelyn’s eyes flew to the altar, where a wooden Jesus had been glued to the cross. Why does God sound like Granny B? But the gentle pressure on her shoulder was of earthly origin. She met her grandmother’s calm, clear gaze.

  “Come on now, chile.” Granny B’s supple, low voice belied the firm command in her tone.

  Evelyn stood. “Is—?”

  “Yo’ mama lookin’ fo’ you. You had her worried sick, wondrin’ where you was.” Granny B’s hand steered her from the chapel. “I know you ain’t meant to cause her mo’ worry, but when you left, that’s exactly what you did. Now we need to get back—”

  The girl stopped walking and shrugged Granny B’s hand away. “What about Daddy, Granny B? Did he wake up?” Evelyn ignored the unabashed, understanding looks of white- and green-smocked hospital personnel.

  Granny B’s cool, steely fingers cupped her chin. She leaned close. Her eyes imparted worlds of truth. “If you need to kick and scream, you go on ’head and do it now, gal. In there you gon’ need to be strong. Yo’ mama fallin’ apart, and yo’ sister and brothers ain’t doin’ much better. Now, y’all got the right to act the fool ’cause yo’ daddy was a good man and this don’t seem fair. But you won’t help nobody if you lose yo’ head, and I know yo’ daddy would be mighty surprised to see his girl actin’ that way.” Granny B smoothed her hair.

  If Evelyn had been older or wiser, she would have recognized a comforting touch, but she wasn’t older or wiser. She was fourteen. “Don’t touch me!”

  This time, her wild cries drew more than curious stares. Granny B drew herself up and frightened Miss Muffet away. Then she stood there, her face devoid of emotion, as Evelyn wept. She didn’t try to touch her. Yet her solid presence calmed Evelyn. Somehow Granny B conveyed that as much as things were changing, some things would not.

  “You ready to see yo’ mama?” Granny B did not mention her daddy at all.

  Evelyn nodded quickly.

  They strode down the hall toward the intensive care unit. It wasn’t until they reached the wide double doors that Granny B lightly touched her again on the shoulder. Evelyn turned to look into her gray eyes.

  “You make yo’ daddy proud. Don’t you grieve him none. You hear me?”

  All Evelyn could do was nod. She pressed her now-sodden handkerchief into her grandma’s hand, and bracing her shoulders, she pushed through the heavy doors. Evelyn left her standing there on the other side.

  ——————

  Sudden great gusts of wind and rain drove everybody inside. Ruthena and Matthew huddled in the corner in the front room near the photographs on the wall. Lis, Jackson, Yolanda and her family, and Lionel and his family retreated to the kitchen with Thomas and Sissy. Sarah, kneeling by the front door, straightened Nicholas’s tie while Sam Jr. gazed at first one unfamiliar face, then another. His sister Grace hovered at her mother’s shoulder, arms crossed and wide-eyed, because her dad had remained in Mount Laurel with her three youngest siblings. Edmond wasn’t there yet, but his children and all their children were. They studied the various odds and ends with Mary in tow. Even now, everybody looked tired of hearing about Sim’s life as an injured free agent. Voices remained at whisper level, although Evelyn heard a few questions about Milton as she and Kevin scooted through. She wondered if Milton and his family would show.

  In the kitchen, Kevin and Evelyn went to work organizing food from Manna, the catering company run by Granny B’s longtime friend Ruby. They stacked aluminum containers of fried chicken, barbecued pork shoulder, and country-fried steak on the counter and put the potato salad, fried corn, and banana pudding in the refrigerator. Ruby’s efforts were superfluous because Granny B had stored away casseroles, canned fruits, and vegetables just for this day.

  Yolanda touched her younger sister’s elbow and whispered behind her hand. “Did you know that Granny B washed clothes for needy women and their families?”

  Evelyn’s mouth dropped open.

  “Well, Uncle Thomas just told Mama. Granny B wants to leave the house exactly as it is so young mothers from her church can use it.”

  Evelyn looked out toward the clothesline, now empty save a do
zen or so wooden pins.

  Ruthena’s voice carried from the front room. “If it isn’t the apostle himself!”

  “Edmond?” Lis rose from the table. Evelyn and the others trailed her from the room.

  Her uncle stood by the door with his arm around a beautiful woman with flowing curls. Evelyn watched him hug, shake hands, and make introductions.

  “So this is Carolina.” Lis drew out the long i as she embraced them.

  “Yes, this is Cah-ro-lee-na.” Edmond drew his friend closer as Sarah pushed through to kiss his cheek.

  “Edmond, you made it. Carolina, good to see you again.”

  He looked down at the boy at Sarah’s hip. “How’s your dad, little man?”

  Sam Jr. responded soberly. “He’s losing his mind. Isn’t that what you said, Mama?”

  The crowd around them hushed as Sarah flushed and opened her mouth. But before she could speak, a man in a black suit opened the screen door and tipped his dripping hat to Lis.

  Finally the limousines had arrived.

  Evelyn and Kevin watched the standard jockeying for position. She wanted to ride in her own car. She hated the curious stares of passersby. No one knew the person being buried today the way Evelyn did. At least, nobody living.

  “You know, I don’t need you to hold my arm. I can make it to the car.” Evelyn fiddled with her buttons before stepping off the porch.

  “You’re helping me. These are new shoes.” Kevin held up his foot to show her his unscuffed soles.

  She rewarded him with a glimmer of a smile as they slogged to their car. If he thinks I’m going to roll on the ground in paroxysms of grief, he still has some digging to do.

  She was grateful for Kevin’s steadying hand, for her heart quaked behind her impassive demeanor. All weekend she had dutifully greeted people. She’d accepted platters of chicken, lemon pound cakes, regrets, and condolences, until she was sated and ready to vomit. But Evelyn expressed her appreciation for their useless gifts, nodding solemnly and shaking hands until her neck and fingers were as stiff as their wooden platitudes. And probably Kevin’s hand on her elbow and her mama’s eyes trained for any sign of Milton kept her from losing her composure.