Almost Home

by Valerie Fraser Luesse

  CHAPTER

  thirty-five

  Reed stood before the mirror hanging above his chest of drawers and straightened his tie. Miss Lillian’s funeral was today, and while he had no idea how he would get through a church service, he felt he owed it to her—and to Anna—to go.

  He threw his suit coat over his arm and stepped outside into the shade of Dolly’s pecan trees. It was overcast and breezy today, which mitigated the heat, but it would be sweltering by the time they left the cemetery. Reaching through his truck window, he laid his coat on the seat.

  Something caught his eye—movement on the loop road—and he looked up to see Daisy, wearing a navy dress and heels, walking up the driveway. Reed had never seen her in a Sunday dress. She hadn’t noticed him standing among all the parked cars and trucks of Dolly’s boarders.

  He watched as she stopped about halfway up the driveway and turned around, as if she were considering a retreat, then stopped again. Before she could flee, he went out to meet her.

  “Daisy?”

  She was struggling for breath and fanning herself with her hand. “I think I’m havin’ some kinda spell.”

  “Can’t breathe, hands sweaty, heart beatin’ ninety to nothin’?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I reckon you can get battle fatigue from fightin’ ghosts as well as Germans. You’ll be okay. Just try to take some real slow, deep breaths. Come on over here in the shade.” He put his hand against her back and escorted her to a glider under the trees. “Sit right there and I’ll get you some water.”

  Reed went into the house and came right back out with water for Daisy. He sat down next to her as she took a few sips. “Better?”

  Daisy nodded. “I don’t ever remember feelin’ that scared. I’d prob’ly be runnin’ down that road if you hadn’a showed up when you did.”

  “Can you run in those shoes?” He tried to lighten the tension.

  “If I’m scared enough, I can run in roller skates.”

  “Try to take your mind off it. I know—you told me y’all have been readin’ some more about Catherine and Andre. Tell me what happened next. That oughta distract you.”

  Daisy kept taking deep breaths. “We got as far as the wedding and some serious ooh-la-la, but then I started feelin’ sick again. And with Lillian gone, Anna says it makes her sad to read the journal. Dolly put it in your room for safekeeping until all of us are ready to keep goin’.”

  Reed grinned at her. “Define ‘serious ooh-la-la.’”

  Daisy, Anna, Jesse, and Reed stood together in the churchyard. Reed saw Daisy looking at the front steps as if they were the highest mountain she had ever tried to climb.

  “You mind if I sit in the back?” she asked Anna. “I’m just not sure . . .”

  Anna gave Daisy a hug. “You sit wherever you’re comfortable. The minister asked me to read Lillian’s favorite Scripture, so we have to sit up front. If you need to leave, just go. Reed can stay with you so you won’t be by yourself.”

  Anna and Jesse went into the church. Daisy looked up at Reed, who offered her his arm. “We can do this for Anna,” he said, escorting her up the church steps and onto a back pew, where they waited for the service to begin.

  Reed remembered this little church—the dark wooden pews, the stained-glass windows, the old velvet chairs where the preacher and song director sat behind the pulpit. Even the smell of the wax they used on the hardwood floors was familiar. The crowd was sparse, no doubt because most everybody who knew Miss Lillian was already dead.

  Her open casket was at the altar. Even if Daisy hadn’t been with him, Reed wouldn’t have walked down the aisle to look at her. He wanted to remember her alive, not “looking natural.”

  As the organist began playing “How Great Thou Art,” the choir filed into the loft, and the undertaker closed Lillian’s casket.

  “O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder . . .”

  The longer the choir sang, the more Daisy fidgeted with her hands, which Reed could see were shaking. He put his arm around her shoulders and laid his free hand over her trembling ones. She looked up at him and tried to smile but couldn’t manage it.

  Trying to keep Daisy from falling apart was having the odd effect of calming Reed’s own anxieties. He leaned over and whispered to her, “Close your eyes and go to the creek.”

  Daisy closed her eyes. After a few minutes, he felt her hands relax beneath his, and she was breathing easier. That got her through the hymns and prayers. But now Anna was about to read. The sound of her friend’s voice seemed to pull Daisy back into the church. “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life . . .”

  Without realizing it, Daisy had leaned closer and closer into Reed as Anna spoke, until her head was resting on his shoulder. He put both arms around her and held her tight, knowing all too well what she was feeling right now—the kind of unbridled panic that makes you want to dig a hole wherever you are, jump in it, and never come out. Luckily, they were the only ones sitting in the back of the church, or the ladies would’ve had plenty to gossip about.

  As soon as Anna finished and the preacher took the pulpit, Daisy began to come around. She looked up at Reed and whispered, “What happened?”

  “Nothin’ anybody saw,” he said. He expected her to pull away from him out of embarrassment, but she didn’t. Daisy was too honest and too drained for that. So he kept his arms around her and repeated something he had said countless times on the battlefield. “You’re gonna make it outta here—I promise.”

  After the graveside service, Reed walked with Daisy from the cemetery, where she had stood stoically beside Anna, somehow keeping her emotions in check. The two friends had hugged each other goodbye before Daisy and Reed made their way back to his truck. He opened her door for her and helped her in, then climbed into the driver’s side. They sat there silently for a few seconds before they turned to each other and both said, “You wanna go somewhere?”

  CHAPTER

  thirty-six

  “I’ll try not to stare like the bumpkin I am,” Daisy said to Reed as they stood before a grand department store with a clock on the corner. Both of them needed an escape after Lillian’s funeral, and Reed had suggested that since they were all gussied up on a Saturday afternoon, they might as well go out on the town. He had driven to Birmingham and taken Daisy to Joy Young for a white-tablecloth lunch. Now they were strolling downtown and had made their way to Loveman’s, where he held the door open for her.

  They felt the blissful rush of air-conditioning as they stepped inside. “Dang!” Daisy said as they walked around. Elegantly dressed salesclerks were spritzing perfume and dabbing makeup on eager customers. Mothers were towing impatient kids behind them as starry-eyed young couples asked directions to the wedding rings.

  “Those stairs are movin’.” Daisy was wide-eyed, watching women in their high heels step onto the stairway that sent them gliding upward, past the mezzanine to the second floor of the store.

  “That, ma’am, is the first escalator in the state o’ Alabama,” Reed said. “Wanna ride?”

  “Maybe later. I think I’d rather go up there.” Daisy pointed to the mezzanine, where diners were having lunch at the store’s own restaurant. She and Reed took the stairs up and stood together at the balcony, watching all the activity below.

  “How’d you learn your way around Birmingham?” Daisy asked.

  “I used to come here with my buddies in high school. One of ’em had an older brother who’d let us tag along with him and his friends if we didn’t get on their nerves. And then when I got outta the hospital, I used to come here a lot. Birmingham’s a good place to kinda lose yourself. I think I like extremes. I either wanna be in a big city or on a creek bank. Never been too happy anywhere in the middle. You follow that?”

  Daisy laughed. “Yes, I follow that.”

  “You ever spent much time in a city this size?”

  “No. We used to go down to Biloxi and Gulfport now and again, but they’re n
owhere near as big as Birmingham. Charlie was never interested in much outside the farm and the Delta. But I’ve always been kinda curious about New Orleans.”

  “Ever seen pictures?”

  “Just in schoolbooks. Kinda doubt they showed us kids the most interestin’ parts.”

  “Prob’ly not,” Reed said with a smile. “I served with a guy from the French Quarter, and he used to show me pictures his family sent over. I think you’d wear out your sketchbook there.”

  “Sure would like to see it one o’ these days.”

  “What else would you like to see?”

  Daisy thought it over. “Florida, I guess. Mississippi’s got flat water, so I’d kinda like to see ocean waves. How ’bout you? Got anyplace you wanna go?”

  “I think I’d like to fish those Louisiana bayous.”

  “I’d sure like to draw ’em—all that bright green behind those cypress trees.”

  “You draw and I’ll fish. That’ll work. Wanna ramble a little?”

  They wandered the elegant store with its soaring ceilings, gleaming floors, sweeping stairway, and long glass display cases. The whole place smelled divine, with all the spritzing from the fragrance counter drifting through the store. Eventually they landed in the dress department.

  “May I just say there’s a dress over here that was made for you.” A salesclerk had appeared out of nowhere. She was about Dolly’s age, smartly dressed, with an authoritative air about her.

  “We’re not really—” Daisy began.

  “Sir, may I ask if you are a veteran?” the clerk interrupted.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Reed said.

  “I thought so. I could tell by your fine posture. Servicemen never slouch. We offer an instant discount for our boys returning home. It’ll save you a fortune. My name is Rhoda. And you are?”

  “Reed and Daisy,” Reed said.

  “Mr. and Mrs. . . . ?” The clerk eyed the wedding band that Daisy still wore.

  Before she could protest, Reed answered, “Ingram.”

  “Come with me.”

  Daisy was shooting him looks behind Rhoda’s back, but he was having too much fun to let her off the hook. The clerk turned her attention back to Daisy. “Floral—that’s for you. Many women can’t pull it off, but you can—classic bone structure, flawless complexion, hourglass figure. You can handle flowers without looking busy. They’ll bring out your lovely green eyes. I’ve got just the thing right over here.”

  “But—” Again Daisy tried to protest.

  “You heard the lady,” Reed said with a grin. “It’s right over there.”

  They followed Rhoda through a sea of racks, straight to a mannequin that held a gorgeous dress—ivory silk overlaid with chiffon in a delicate floral pattern. It was fitted and sleeveless, with a V-neck and a flowing skirt that was slightly shorter in the front. Daisy couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

  “Rhoda,” she finally said, “I can’t afford somethin’ like this.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Rhoda,” Reed countered. “We’re loaded. C’mon, honey, just try it on.”

  Once Rhoda had Daisy situated, she came out to chat with Reed, whom she had seated in a plush wingback chair next to a marble platform in front of a gilded three-way mirror.

  “She’s a bit reluctant,” Rhoda said with her winning smile. “If I may venture a guess, Mrs. Ingram has no idea what she actually looks like?”

  “Yes, ma’am, you are dead on the money.” He gave her a winning smile of his own, and Rhoda pulled up a velvet stool next to him.

  “Might I suggest a few accessories,” she said as she sat down, “just little odds and ends to really bring her out? A stylish peep-toe, a hat perhaps, a strand of pearls . . .”

  Reed pulled out his wallet. “Load her up, Rhoda.”

  The salesclerk rushed out to the floor to gather Daisy’s accessories while Reed listened to Benny Goodman playing on the store’s sound system and waited. In a few minutes, Rhoda hurried back to the dressing room, carrying shoeboxes and hatboxes, with necklaces dangling from her wrist.

  Eventually he heard her trying to coax Daisy out of the dressing room. “My dear, you look positively divine! Come out here and show Mr. Ingram.”

  Finally, Daisy stepped through the velvet curtains that led to the dressing room and came out to see Reed. As she often did, she left him speechless. The dress fit her perfectly and did indeed bring out her eyes, as Rhoda had promised. Daisy was wearing the shoes Rhoda had suggested and a simple strand of pearls.

  “As much as I love to make a sale, Mrs. Ingram simply does not need accessories,” Rhoda said. “I think simpler is better, don’t you agree?”

  “I do,” Reed said.

  Rhoda led Daisy to the platform in front of the three-way mirror. Reed watched her study her reflection as if she didn’t recognize herself.

  “Shall I . . . ?”

  “We’ll take it all, Rhoda. Can you wrap up her other things? I don’t think she’ll want to change back.”

  Rhoda was beaming. “My pleasure. May I give you my card?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And thank you.”

  As Rhoda left them alone to ring up the sale and package the funeral clothes cast off in the fitting room, Daisy kept looking at her reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know her,” she finally said.

  Reed stepped onto the platform beside her and took her hand. “I do. I met her on a creek bank back in the spring.”

  Daisy shook her head. “That’s not who you met.”

  “Yes, it is. You just had her all covered up. But I could still see her.”

  He was gazing at her reflection, and now she was staring at his. “I don’t know what happens next, Reed.”

  “That’s up to you. I’ve known what I wanted from day one.”

  Daisy kept looking at his image in the mirror. “You’ve got the strangest eyes I’ve ever seen,” she said very softly.

  A reflection of her wasn’t nearly enough. Reed turned to face her, slipped one arm around her waist, and held her face with his free hand. He gave no thought to the shoppers passing by or the three mirrors projecting the image of a young vet embracing the love of his life and pouring out, in one lingering kiss, the longing and loneliness that had haunted him since the war.

  CHAPTER

  thirty-seven

  The Magic City had put a charm on Reed and Daisy. Outside of Loveman’s, he made a half-hearted offer, an escape for her if she needed it: “Just let me know if you want to go home.”

  Daisy looked up at him and shook her head. Then she took the shopping bag he was carrying for her—the one that held her mourning clothes—and put it in a trash bin on the street corner. He watched as she stared down at the gold band on her left hand before slipping it off her finger.

  “What should I do with it?” she asked him.

  “Keep it—always. It’s part of you.”

  She gave him a smile he couldn’t quite read—maybe grateful, maybe wistful—and put the ring in her purse.

  He took her by the hand. “Wanna go for a walk?”

  The two of them began a leisurely stroll along 20th Street.

  “Can you . . . can you tell me how this works?” she asked him.

  As usual, Daisy had thrown him a curveball. “How what works?”

  “This.” She pointed from Reed to herself and back again.

  “Oh. That. Well . . . people been tryin’ to figure that one out since women invented courtin’. Not sure I’ve got the answer.” They both glanced up as a streetcar whizzed by, ringing its bell.

  “Yeah, but I’m really in the dark. I never dated anybody but Charlie, and we’d known each other since we were kids. We just kinda . . . grew into each other.”

  “Can’t we do that too?”

  “We’re all grown up, Reed.”

  “I follow that.” He had broken the tension, and they were finally laughing together. “Look, Daisy, I just wanna be with you—any way that makes you happy. I’m not gonna push you. I’m not gon
na hurry you. I just wanna spend as much time with you as you’ll let me. How ’bout you?”

  She grinned at him and said, “Ditto.”

  “You have such a way with words.”

  Reed and Daisy first heard the music as they rounded the corner of 5th Avenue.

  “Glory, glory, hallelujah, since I laid my burdens down . . .”

  They stopped on the sidewalk and listened as it drifted down the street—music that walked a fine line between churchgoing gospel and juke-jointing blues. The two of them looked at each other and, without saying a word, hurried toward the sound.

  The powerful voices, with hands clapping in rhythm, led Reed and Daisy to Kelly Ingram Park downtown, in the shadow of a stately old Baptist church on 16th Street. A tent as big as a barn had been erected in the center of the park, and the folding chairs underneath were quickly filling as worshipers from Birmingham’s colored neighborhoods flocked to the park.

  “Maybe nobody would mind if we just sat in back for a minute?” Reed suggested.

  They found a couple of empty chairs—mercifully stocked with Liberty National fans—on the back row, right beside the aisle.

  “Friends don’t treat me like they used to, since I laid my burdens down . . .”

  “It’s weird, ain’t it?” Daisy said. “If I was in my own church, listenin’ to those old hymns, I’d be havin’ a come-apart right about now. But here—I feel safe in this tent.”

  “Me too. Maybe it’s because these folks don’t know us from Adam. And that music ain’t like nothin’ at First Baptist.”

  Reed and Daisy flapped their fans with everybody else and listened to the singers.

  A stage at the far end of the tent held a full choir in bright gold robes, with a soloist standing at a microphone out front. An old upright piano sat on the ground to one side of the stage. The piano player was a tall teenage boy, surrounded by a bass fiddler and two guitar players. A drummer was tucked into a corner behind them. The audience was a sea of flapping Liberty Nationals.