by Lee Smith
There is not a one of them that is normal.
Well, Rose Annie and Johnny had just moved into their new house on Old Hickory Lake, and there was workmen all over the place finishing up. They were putting that famous wrought-iron gate up while we were there, in fact, the one with the notes from the first line of “Five-Card Stud” on it. It’s been photographed a million times since—see here? and here? Anyway, the house was perfectly beautiful, I have to admit it, even to one like myself that is not really a fan of modern architecture.
The whole back of it was glass, looking out on the pool, with the lake beyond. All the living room furniture was blue velvet, blue being Rose Annie’s favorite color, and I must say I enjoyed sitting there on that long blue velvet sofa looking out at the pool and the lake and the mountains beyond, and thinking about all the other stars that live around Old Hickory Lake, too, wondering what they were doing right then! You couldn’t keep Sugar and Buddy Junior out of the pool, they were just crazy about it. And Rose Annie was with them every minute, you could tell how glad she was to see them.
She had bought them some little ponies, as a surprise—Sugar’s pony was named Miss Pat and Buddy Junior’s was Charley—and cowboy boots for riding. You should have seen Sugar’s eyes light up when she first saw Miss Pat! Sugar has read every horse book in the library, I reckon. She’s always been wild about horses, like a lot of little girls are. Rose Annie even had a boy down at the stable hired to teach them how to ride, and stay right by them, and Rose Annie herself stayed down there, too, watching them. It was like she couldn’t get enough of watching them. I got tired of it myself, and went back up to the house and sat down on that blue sofa and got the Filipino boy, Ramon, to bring me a 7-Up. I wouldn’t have minded bringing Ramon back home with me, I’ll tell you! Anything you wanted, he couldn’t get it fast enough. I was enjoying myself.
I knew Buddy wouldn’t like it about the ponies, he would say that Rose Annie was trying to buy their love. This is what he said whenever she sent them presents, too, even those sweaters from Scotland. He made Tammy put them all in the basement to give to the Kiwanis gift drive at Christmas. So Sugar and Buddy never saw their gifts, and Rose Annie never inquired about them. She didn’t inquire even when we were over in Nashville visiting; it was almost like she didn’t want to know.
Well, as I sat there watching Ramon bow himself backward out of the room, I made a decision. I decided not to tell Buddy about the ponies. People don’t need to know everything. I would tell the children that the ponies were a secret between them and me, and that way they could ride them whenever Buddy let them go visit again. So this is what I did.
And as for Rose Annie, that visit was an eye-opener for me. I went over to Tennessee prepared to hate her, but I couldn’t hate her any more than I could when she was married to Buddy and laying in the bed. I thought she would be changed, I guess, since she had become the Queen of Country Music and all, but the only thing changed about her was the size of her bosom on that album cover. In the flesh, she was the same Rose Annie as always, with something about her that made you want to hug her and tell her it would be all right. She looked young as ever, and pretty as ever in a frail kind of way, like a wildflower.
This is what came to me that day as I watched her walking up from the stables with a child on each hand—like a wildflower. I don’t know why I thought that, but you know how wildflowers are—they die if you try to transplant them or bring them inside. Her hair was still as pale and flyaway as dandelion fluff, and the color still came and went in her cheeks. Her eyes were that cornflower blue—oh, it was not possible to stay mad at Rose Annie!
We stayed in Nashville for four days, and on the second night she took us to the Grand Ole Opry, where we actually got to go backstage and meet Hank Snow who I have always admired so much, and Little Jimmy Dickens, he is not but four-eleven foot tall, and Kitty Wells and her husband. The biggest thrill of the whole night was when Kitty sang “It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky-tonk Angels”; you never heard so much applause. I was proud to be there. Minnie Pearl was on the Opry that night, too, and I was so surprised to learn that in real life she is from a fancy family, and not from up a holler someplace. Her real name is Mrs. Sarah Ophelia Colley Cannon, and she is rich, can you believe it? Another time, we saw Webb Pierce in the street! Out of the car window! Walking down Broadway big as life! When we saw him, Rose Annie got so tickled at me because I’d been saying, “Now is he a star? or him? or her?” Looking for stars, you know. So when we really saw Webb Pierce, I liked to died.
Anyway, Rose Annie kept us so busy, showing us Nashville, that it was the third day before it really hit me—why, where was Johnny?
“He’s on tour right now,” Rose Annie answered, but the color came up in her cheeks and I thought to myself, There is more here than meets the eye.
But then what I thought was, she and Johnny had decided that for this first visit, it might be better for the children if he wasn’t around; that way the children could get used to their mamma again, and then him. So I thought they had planned it that way out of decency. But it would not have bothered me a bit to see him, and I said as much to Rose Annie. I told her flat out that I and the children would sure love to meet him, and mentioned that I had promised the women in my Circle to get his autograph if I had a chance.
“Well, next time, for sure,” Rose Annie said, smiling at me. “He’s in, let’s see, Tulsa right now.”
But this turned out not to be true, as the phone started ringing off the hook later that afternoon, people looking for Johnny. He had not showed up in Tulsa yet, even though the show was not but about four hours away and his band had already run a sound check. Oh, I heard it all. Did Rose Annie have any idea where he might be? No, she did not, but she had to talk to the boys in the band and the people that were booking the concert, and I don’t know who all. Then their manager, Billy Bodine, and two other men came out to the house and went in the office with Rose Annie and stayed for over an hour.
Meanwhile the sun was shining and the children were splashing in the pool with the boy from the stables up there watching out for them, and a snooty decorator out from town was measuring for drapes in the dining room, and workmen were finishing up the mirror walls in the foyer and putting the wrought-iron clef note on the gate.
I had not seen so much activity in the whole rest of my life up to that point, I’ll tell you. I was about to wet my pants from all the excitement, but when the men left and Rose Annie came back into the living room, she seemed real calm, considering.
“Oh, there must have been some kind of a mix-up,” she said. “Billy will get it all straightened out.” Then she said she wanted us to eat early so she could take the children into town to this special old-fashioned soda parlor for ice cream, since it was their last night with her, and she knew they’d need plenty of rest for the trip home.
Rose Annie was trying to act like nothing at all was wrong about Johnny being missing, so I didn’t say a word. We ate some kind of delicious chicken cooked by Ramon, with almonds in it, and then Rose Annie put the kids in her Cadillac and headed off for town. See, this is a picture of her and them in the soda parlor that night, it’s just made to look like olden times.
Anyway, that left me there alone to pack and try to get Pancake on the phone, which I could not do. I just hoped and prayed he’d show up the next morning, when he said he would.
After I finished packing my clothes and the children’s, I got to feeling sorry for the ladies in my Circle because I couldn’t bring Johnny’s autograph back to them. So I got up and went into Rose Annie and Johnny’s bedroom—the master suite—to see if I might find some little souvenir. I couldn’t get over the bed, kingsize, but with a canopy—you know it had to be built special. It was Gone With the Wind all the way. Blue satin sheets and floor-length mirrors everyplace, double mahogany dressers and gold brocade drapes, even gold fixtures in the bathroom, and blue towels with gold monograms. She had about a million pictures of Buddy Junior a
nd Sugar on her dresser and her vanity, plus a beautiful huge color picture of Johnny which he had signed “I have allways loved you my Darling.” Both Johnny and Rose Annie had a cedar closet as big as my own bedroom to keep all their clothes in. Johnny had at least twelve of those black cowboy suits he always wears, with different kinds of silver and sequin designs on them. Some of them had silver and turquoise designs, I bet they are priceless. Johnny’s closet was real messy, though, compared to Rose Annie’s. The whole floor was covered with piles of stuff, so I picked up a souvenir or two for my Circle girlfriends, just some things it was clear he would never miss, a little cigarette lighter shaped like a gun, a string tie—he had a million string ties!—some belt buckles, etc. Then I packed those and went in the kitchen and told Ramon I would like some kind of a sweet little after-dinner drink to settle my nerves. Tía María, I think it was. I sat out by the pool and sipped it, watching the lights come on one by one all around Old Hickory Lake.
I certainly could get used to that life, I thought to myself riding back home in the truck the next day with Pancake and the kids.
But clearly all was not kisses and Tía María with the King and Queen of Country Music, so I was not too surprised when these stories started coming out in the papers recently. Stories like this one, I mean. Tulsa is not the only engagement he’s missed, not by a long shot. Dallas, Richmond, Knoxville—it goes on and on. Why, they are now referring to him as Johnny No-Show! And look here how skinny he is. For a while after he and Rose Annie got together, Johnny was looking a lot better than he used to, but now he looks awful again. I bet it’s not just drinking. I bet it’s drugs. See how he’s dropped off, look at him from the side in this one. He’s nothing but a shadow. You know, you can’t expect to change a man by marrying him. You cannot. People don’t change when they get married, no matter how much they swear they’re going to. They just don’t. I don’t know if Rose Annie thought about that or not before she run off with him. I can’t imagine what she was thinking about, to tell the truth. Sometimes I wonder if she’s all there, if you know what I mean, but I wouldn’t say it to a soul.
Now here’s the worst one, I saved it for last, I just can’t get it out of my mind. It says that Rose Annie was picked up by the police in Gainesville, Florida, wearing a negligee, incoherent, with a bleeding lip—well, read it yourself, it’s just terrible. This event took place “following a disagreement with her husband, the well-known singer Blackjack Johnny Raines, who apparently locked her out of their motel room.” Although another article said that she had left, trying to get away from him. So you can’t tell what to believe. Anyway, I just hope and pray that Buddy doesn’t see these—I don’t think he will, because folks around here realize how sensitive he is about Rose Annie, especially now since “Subdivision Wife” is such a big hit.
And you can’t ever tell, all those problems might have just blown over by the time I’m supposed to take the children to Nashville for the Christmas visit, which Buddy has finally agreed to. Pancake volunteered to drive them and just drop them off and wait on them and then bring them on back, but while I can’t say anything to Loney about Pancake’s motives, I naturally feel that it would be best for all concerned if I go along, knowing what I know about the whole situation. Plus I certainly wouldn’t want the children to witness any scene in that house between Johnny and Rose Annie, and as I told Buddy, I don’t mind going a bit.
3
Blue Christmas, 1959
Rose Annie Talking
I’m trying. I’m trying to tell you. I’m telling it as fast as I can. But I have to get this tree trimmed right now, you can see that, anybody can see that, don’t you know this is Christmas Eve? The children are coming tomorrow. Sugar and Buddy Junior, of course—my children. My children. So if it’s all right with you, we’ll just talk while I trim this tree, if you don’t mind, I mean.
Ramon! Where is Ramon? Could you hand me one of those boxes sitting on the sofa next to you, please? Could you maybe take the cellophane off of it first? Thank you so much, Officer, I hate to ask you, I just don’t understand where Ramon is.
I got the idea for the tree out of a magazine, I always wanted an all-blue Christmas tree. Then Harry Russo, that’s my decorator, found this beautiful blue tree for me. He also found the angel on the top, she’s French porcelain, I don’t know where he bought her, but isn’t she perfect? I think that little star she’s carrying is so cute. Well, it’s a little light bulb, actually, but it’s supposed to be a star. And her lovely blue dress is in the Empire style, Harry says. Isn’t she beautiful? She looks just like my own little girl. Oh no, not Sugar. Not Sugar! My own little girl. I don’t know. She was here just a minute ago. When you came in. She was the one who let you in, I believe.
Yes, doesn’t the yard look pretty? Tour buses have been coming by here about six times a day ever since we got it set up. It took them five whole days to set it all up, and then when they turned it on, why it just took my breath away!
It does look like a real baby, doesn’t it? But it’s just a doll. Just a doll. That’s what they used to say to me, “Rose Annie, you’re just a doll.”
The way they do the tree is, they wrap each limb around and around with strings of the tiniest little lights, it takes forever . And then of course when they turn on the electricity you can see every branch, every twig. I think they look like lightning.
I used to live up on Grassy Branch in a house on a hill where I could look out and see a storm coming up the valley from a long way off. The leaves on the trees will turn inside out, this is how you know a storm is coming. Inside out, they look all silvery in the wind. That happens first. Then the wind picks up. The clouds get dark. Then lightning stands up like a tree in the sky. I used to sit there every day, looking up and down the valley, watching the weather, watching my children play, watching the cars pass by, waiting for him to come. Why, Johnny Rainette, of course! Laying right over there on the rug. I bet Ramon has gone out to get a carpet shampooer, I certainly hope so.
How about handing me that box of little blue stars? This is what they sang when Mamma died, Tampa and Virgie standing under a black umbrella in the graveyard in the rain. Bright morning stars are rising, bright morning stars are rising, bright morning stars are rising, day is a-breaking in my soul. Their voices made puffs of smoke in the air, it was so cold that day, they buried Mamma in the cold rock ground, which does not matter for the soul will leave the body and rise like smoke to meet Jesus in the air. And didn’t we lay in the freezing hayfield, me and him, oh did we not? in that cold dark field looking back at the fire and all the figures dancing, it was all of them a-dancing, dancing in the fiery light while we laid out in the night and watched them, and stars as big and wild as fireworks filled the sky. Johnny. It was always Johnny. He never loved nobody but me, never in all his life, no matter what he done. No matter what any of them said. No matter what she said.
Why, the one that was here this afternoon, I mean, that said she was having a baby. His baby, she said. Oh, I had his baby too, I told her. It was little and blue and it died, I told her, with its little fingers curled up in a tiny blue fist, I told her, it lived all by itself in a little tent in Chattanooga. We will wait for him to come home, then, I said. He will want to do the right thing, I said. Come sit by me, I said, on this sofa here we can look out the window and see all the lights come on, it is almost dark, it’s time to turn them on, anyway. Just sit here beside me, I said. I’ve been so lonesome lately. But she started crying and ran away. I saw her go stumbling and crying through the shepherds and the Wise Men, away into the dark. It gets dark so early now, don’t it? Don’t you just hate it?
When we were growing up there were so many of us, there was always somebody to be with, it seems like, I never got lonesome like I do now. Christmas smelled like pine and oranges then. I must tell Ramon to buy oranges. We will stick cloves in them just like Little Virginia does every year, we will make fudge like Mamma. Ramon will be so surprised.
Where is
he, anyway? I need some help with this tree. I am not well, I’ve got bad nerves, you see, I had a nervous breakdown as a girl. Officer, if you wouldn’t mind, I need somebody tall to put these icicles up on the top of the tree. Yes. Oh yes. It is so pretty.
Well, then I sat here in this dark house waiting for him to come, of course, and looking out the picture window at the manger scene and all the lights, and then at the cars that came by on the road to see it, and I could not help thinking of those other windows, the one in Chattanooga that looked out on the little fountain which splashed so, and up on Grassy Branch where I sat for so long as the seasons passed, while I waited for him to come.
Why, then he did come, of course, as I knew he would, and as soon as I saw his car I knew it was him. The funniest feeling came all over me, I can’t describe it. I knew I would do whatever he said, I’d go with him wherever he went. Oh, and when he parked and got out of the car he was wearing a black cowboy hat and mirror sunglasses, but I knew who it was immediately and I ran outside and he took me in his arms and kissed me and kissed me. “What took you so long?” I said, and he laughed and kissed me some more. And when I drew back what I saw was myself, Rose Annie Bailey, in his mirror sunglasses, and then I remembered who I had been all along, Johnny’s girl, and so I was alive then, and I left with him as soon as we could load my stuff in the car. For we are one, you see, him and me. I’d been waiting for years and years. And now here I am waiting again, he’s been gone for days, and it’s Christmas. Families ought to be together at Christmas. Christmas is a family time. And I get so lonesome, for he ought not to go off that way and leave me, not at Christmas, he ought not, or to do the things he has done to me. Oh, awful things. But then my little girl came and sat beside me.