by Rhett DeVane
Piddie’s heart continued to beat weakly until the ambulance arrived at the emergency entrance at the rear of Tallahassee Memorial Hospital. She felt a gentle warmth — saw a glow above her. She felt herself lifting off and looked down at the worn out, sad, old woman’s body on the gurney. Joy flooded her spirit. She hadn’t felt this good since her twenties. As she watched her physical body being wheeled through the double doors, she felt her soul open up, release.
“Lord almighty! If I’d’a known goin’ to my glory was gonna feel this good, I’d’a quit fightin’ it long ago!” She felt the words leave her consciousness, having no mouth to speak.
Piddie became part of the morning breeze, whirled with the colors of the sky. She turned toward Home. Then, she hesitated. Home was right there — where it would be for all eternity.
“Maybe I’ll just enjoy this whole floatin’ thing for a while. It’s gonna be stirred up down there like a kicked-over fire ant hill. I’ll wait a bit before I take care of a few things.”
At 10:25 AM, after several unsuccessful attempts at resuscitation, Liddyanne “Piddie” Davis Longman was pronounced dead by the attending emergency room physician.
“When we leave this old world, and we all will some day, we’ll find out what’s on the other side. I’ve heard there’s no pain or sorrow. That sounds mighty appealin’.”
Piddie Davis Longman
Chapter Fourteen
The Madhatter’s Sweet Shop and Massage Parlor
I knew immediately from the ghostly, stricken expression on Jake’s face; something terrible had happened while I was cloistered in the massage therapy room with my first morning client.
“Sister-girl.” Jake hugged me, sobbing.
“Wha…?”
“Piddie…it’s Piddie…”
I grabbed a tissue and offered it to him. He blew his nose loudly and heaved a huge sigh. “We think Piddie’s had a heart attack. The ambulance just left for Tallahassee. Evelyn’s following in the Lincoln.” He rested one hand on my shoulder. “I called your other clients. Jolene can take over the shop. I’m willing and ready to go over to the hospital with you.” His face sagged with sorrow and worry. “I just feel so helpless being here doing nothing.”
A switch inside of my psyche flips on when disaster hits. Once I move past the initial shock and disbelief, the General in Charge of Emergency Operations steps in, blows a whistle to staunch the scream of emotional gibberish, and orders my body to action.
“Okay. Let me get Mrs. Harris dismissed. I’ll clean the room real fast, and … Holston and Sarah….”
“They went back to the Hill. He was in his office when it happened, and he wanted to take Sarah home so they could both calm down. You want me to call him and let him know we’re heading on over?”
I shook my head. “No. He’ll know to sit tight until he hears from me. We’ll call from the cellphone as soon as we’re on the Interstate.”
Jolene leaned her head into the sweet shop. “Y’all go on ahead. I’ll see to Ethel Harris and straighten up the therapy room. I can always call Julie down at the Homeplace if things get too wild for me to handle here.”
“Thanks tons, Jolene. We’ll call you as soon as we know anything.” I grabbed my purse, and we exited by the rear delivery door.
“I’ll drive,” I said as I bumped the keyless entry button.
Jake crossed himself and slid into the passenger’s seat.
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. I’d just rather it be me who gets the speeding ticket, especially since Betty’s on my insurance policy.”
I had made the same balls-to-the-wall drive from Chattahoochee to Tallahassee Memorial’s emergency room twice in the past four years — following Jake’s assault and Piddie’s first visit.
No matter how far the speedometer needle tipped to the right, the asphalt felt as if it had turned into a soupy quagmire. I pushed the SUV to the limits of my driving abilities. The parking gods smiled down upon us, saving a spot near the ambulance bay.
I stood behind Billy-Bob Redneck and his extended interbred family at the registration desk, fidgeting with frustration.
“Sister-girl, look…,” Jake said softly. He pointed toward the crowded waiting room.
Evelyn sat amidst the sea of human pain and suffering. Her expression was blank. She stared into space with no recognition of the bedlam churning around her.
I picked my way through the crowd and knelt at her feet. “Evelyn?” I asked in a soft voice.
Slowly, she lifted her head and studied first me, then Jake, as if we were total strangers who’d come to tell her the Lincoln was double-parked.
I rested my hands on her knees. “Ev?”
Recognition and a flicker of pain registered in her eyes. “Hattie?” She looked up. “Jake?”
I asked in a soft voice, “Ev, where’s Piddie?”
Evelyn sighed as if the weight of impending sorrow had planted a heavy hand on her shoulders, keeping her bolted to her seat. “Mama’s gone Home.”
My brows knit together. “Home? She just got here! Jake said she’d had a heart attack. How could she possibly have gone home?”
Jake reached down and touched my arm gently. “Sister-girl, I think what Evelyn may be trying to say is…” His voice cracked as he struggled for the words. “Piddie’s passed on.”
Evelyn lowered her head. Her shoulders shook slightly as she sobbed.
“I’ll go call and make sure Joe’s on his way,” Jake said.
Elvina Houston
Elvina Houston shuffled into her cramped kitchen for her morning cup of green tea. She had given up coffee a couple of years back after reading an article on the benefits of the exotic brew. Millions of Chinese couldn’t be wrong, after all. If her gene pool dictated longevity, she might as well make the best of it. Elvina would never admit her true age to a soul, the exception being her personal physician in Tallahassee. She plied him with enough home-baked goods to hopefully seal his lips. Only Piddie Longman knew that Elvina trailed her by a mere nine years.
Elvina shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t rightly fathom that I’m gonna turn ninety soon. If I’d’a known I was gonna live this long, I’d’a taken more lovers.”
She settled into her favorite worn recliner. Two bright red cardinals and three chickadees battled for position on the bi-level birdfeeder by the picture window.
“Been dull as dirt around here lately,” she said out loud. She and Piddie would have to resort to dredging up past scandals to spice the daily morning conversation.
Elvina heard the muffled jangle of the phone and finally located the headset under several layers of old newspapers.
“Hello? Hello?” Silence answered. “Dang kids!”
The familiar whine and a scratch at the sliding glass door announced the arrival of Buster, an old tomcat she’d reluctantly befriended. “Did you get you some last night, Buster?” she asked as she cracked the door.
Buster narrowed his large yellow eyes. “Yowl!”
“Don’t grump at me! I can’t help it if you lay out all night and come draggin’ in all beat up and wore out.” Elvina poured a dish of cream and filled Buster’s catfood bowl.
The phone rang in the other room. Though she’d purchased the portable phone so that it could be her constant companion, she was forever leaving it somewhere other than where she was. Shuffling as quickly as she could, she caught it following the third ring. Once again, the line was devoid of sound. Elvina held the phone in her hand and studied it, as if it might suddenly yield a clue to the crank caller.
The third call found Elvina sitting on the toilet. “Dang it! It’s almost like someone knows I’m indisposed.” She grumbled. “Hang on!” she called out.
As she rounded the corner to the den, the ringing stopped. “If you’d let it ring more’n three times, I could get to it!” she said. “I’m an old woman, not a racehorse.” She shook her finger in the direction of the silent headset.
The significance
of the three calls hit her. For years, she and Piddie Longman had used the signal to alert each other. It meant: I’ve arrived safely. Don’t worry about me. Piddie insisted that Elvina triple-ring her every time she drove alone to her doctor’s appointments in Tallahassee. Any time they were separated, the signal served to comfort the one left behind. Elvina smiled, remembering that Piddie had even signaled her from Vancouver before she boarded the cruise ship for Alaska.
Elvina checked the time on the antique mantle clock. Ten forty-five. She propped her hands on her hips. “Where you reckon that old biddy’s off to this time of a mornin’?” She took a sip of her tea and flinched. Stone cold.
“Well,” she said to Buster, “I might as well get dressed and go on around to the Triple C. Mandy’s got me down for 11:45. I reckon I’ll find out where that nosey-butt friend of mine’s off to.”
Triple C Day Spa and Salon
The river rock parking lot at the Triple C Day Spa and Salon was vacant. After positioning the gold Delta 88 in the shade of a magnolia tree, Elvina eschewed the formal front entrance and pushed through the unlocked delivery door. The kitchen was oddly quiet. Unwashed coffee cups tattooed muddy rings on the Formica countertops. Her mouth curled into a scowl as she investigated Holston’s study area. The computer screen was black. The lingering scent of cologne remained. She poked her head into Evelyn’s workroom. The sewing machines were silent. Clumps of material were thrown haphazardly around the room.
Elvina stepped briskly through the kitchen toward the business end of the spa. The scene in the reception room stopped her cold in her tracks. The typically tidy desk was in disorder. One appointment book lay upside down and half-opened on the floor, surrounded by a clutter of spilled business cards and envelopes. Piddie’s wheelchair was shoved against one wall.
“Evelyn?” she called. “Mandy? Somebody?”
She stood with her hands on her hips for a second, then whirled around to head in the direction of the hair salon. At the entrance door to the formal waiting area, she ran face to face into Mandy.
“Whew!” Mandy grabbed her chest. “You scared the dickens out of me!”
Elvina propped her hands on her hips. “What the blue blazes is going on here this mornin’?”
Tears formed at the corners of Mandy’s eyes. “Oh, Elvina…” She sobbed into her palms.
“Now…what’s the matter? You can tell me.” Elvina draped her arms around the younger woman’s shoulders and guided her gently to one of the over-stuffed parlor chairs.
“I don’t know how to tell you this…” Mandy paused and studied the old woman’s face. “Piddie had a heart attack this morning. They took her by ambulance to Tallahassee.”
The cell phone in Elvina’s purse trilled, making her jump. She dug around, finally located it near the bottom of her bag, but it was silent after the third ring. “There.” She smiled as she returned the phone to her purse. “Nothin’ to worry about, Mandy.”
Mandy blew her nose and sniffed. “Who was that? I didn’t hear you say anything.”
Elvina patted the side of her bag like she was praising an obedient lap dog. “That was Piddie’s three-ring signal tellin’ me she’s safe. She already did it at the house earlier, but I reckon she wanted to make sure I got her message.”
Mandy dabbed her eyes, careful not to ruin her mascara. “Why didn’t she just talk to you and tell you herself?”
Elvina waved her hand. “That’ud steal the suspense out of it! Piddie Longman loves drama. She was just lettin’ me know that she’d arrived at her destination safe and sound and not to worry about her.”
Mandy managed a weak smile.
“Now, brush yourself off and come on in here and attend to my hair before I snatch it out by the roots. I’ll bet you a blue-nosed bottlefly that Piddie Longman’ll be back here real soon.”
Hank Henderson
Hank Henderson smeared the condensed steam from the center of the vanity mirror and leaned forward to inspect his reflection in the mirror.
“Shavin’s a pain in the ass,” he said.
Hank smiled as he pictured his new life in his mind’s eye: slung up on a chaise lounge, oiled to a high gloss, barking drink orders to a nubile brown-skinned waiter hungry for a tip. The ex-Florida Cracker turned millionaire tropical transplant. Chick magnet. Grantor of small favors in return for larger ones.
The new house would be grand, an estate fringed with sprawling banana trees and bird of paradise fronds, well-paid security guards patrolling the periphery in bouncing jeeps. Perhaps he would start a legitimate business of some sort, nothing that would interfere with the lucrative Internet pornography enterprise, of course.
Hank’s mouth morphed into a greasy smile. The third world children would be dirt poor and ripe for the picking. He wouldn’t need to play the elaborate games he’d played here. Officials could be bought and paid for, and money was no issue.
Something frosty-cold brushed across his bare shoulders, sending his skin into rows of prickly gooseflesh. He jerked his head around. Behind him, the master bedroom was dark, the shades pulled against the morning light.
“Rabbit must’ve run over my grave,” he mumbled.
Hank brushed his face with a thick curd of shaving cream, picked up the safety razor, and began to carefully carve long strips. Thoughts of his immediate plans made him smile again. The universe was providing the opportunity he needed to further his agenda with Tameka Clark. Today was Grandma Maizie’s 65th birthday. A complete meal was being prepared to his specifications by Julie at the Homeplace restaurant. He would deliver the food at noon: Styrofoam containers of fresh vegetables, creamed potatoes, and a pot roast, topped off by a birthday sponge cake dripping with strawberries. If the way to the heart was through the stomach, he’d take the path provided.
Hank stopped the razor in midswipe. An eerie feeling of being watched crept over him. He shook his head. “Impossible! No one could get by the alarm and video surveillance in this house.”
The mist on the mirror cleared. Hank glanced down to reload the shaving brush. When he looked up, the image of Piddie Longman, her glowing beehive hairdo stuffed with daisies, was reflected in the mirror beside his face.
Hank whirled around. The shaving brush clattered onto the tile, splattering clots of shaving cream across the wall and floor. The insistent ticking of his father’s oak wall clock was the only sound in the vacant bedroom.
“Got-damned old woman!” He retrieved the brush and dabbed at his face. “I gotta get out of this town soon, or I’m gonna end up at the ’hooch in a private suite of rooms with padded walls and no sharp utensils.”
“Here’s how I see my life. When I was young, I was like a new river – rushing headlong over rocks and stumps, and carving out the banks on either side with my passin’. Later, I became like an old river – meandering this way and that, buildin’ up sandbars along the side that slowed me down even more. Now, here in the twilight of my life, I’m like one of them little eddies at the side of the great water – content to swirl around in circles at a snail’s pace and watch the rest of the world pass on by.”
Piddie Davis Longman
Chapter Fifteen
Joe and Evelyn’s
Evelyn paused outside of the door leading to her mother’s living quarters. Joe had planned and helped to construct the addition to the main house containing a twelve by fourteen bedroom, small sitting room, and handicapped accessible bathroom. Evelyn squeezed her swollen eyes shut to staunch a fresh barrage of hot tears, sighed, and opened the door.
Piddie’s scent permeated the sitting room; an airy combination of flower-fresh talcum powder and rosewater. Evelyn walked slowly through the cozy parlor, pausing to notice the opened scandal magazine, The National Informant, on the coffee table next to her mother’s love-worn Bible. Piddie’s most recent personal journal, a military-green spiral notebook, was tucked beneath a dog-eared TV guide. The portable phone headset rested on its side on a short wicker table close to the lift-assist cha
ir. Evelyn rescued a silk daisy from the floor beside the television cabinet.
“Oh, Mama,” she whispered, “you dropped one of your little flowers.” She stood rooted to the floor for a few moments.
“Come on, Evelyn Longman Fletcher, this ain’t gonna get done by itself.” She squared her shoulders like a guilty schoolgirl heading into the principal’s office to defend her wayward actions.
When Evelyn entered the bedroom, she noticed the tidiness of her mother’s private domain. The pastel handmade crazy quilt was pulled military tight, neatly tucked under two pillows. A droopy, solemn-faced teddy bear, a recent hospital get-well gift from Elvina, lay propped against one pillow. A low oak bureau topped with a hand-woven lace doily held an array of framed family pictures, a carved music box jewelry case, and a silver-plated comb, brush, and mirror set.
Evelyn opened the sliding mirrored closet door and sank onto one side of the bed.
“Mama, how am I gonna get through this?” Evelyn addressed her own reflection. “I thought all along…you’d be here a few more years. How could you just up and leave me so all of a sudden?”
She waged her finger in the air. “And this thing about you wanting to be cremated and scattered behind the Triple C! Why, that’s the most outlandish thing I’ve ever heard tell of. I just about fell out when Hattie told me what you wanted us to do!”
Evelyn stood and began to pace back and forth. “I don’t think I can bear the thought of it, Mama! Burning you up like that!” She whirled around to face her reflection, gearing up for a full-fledged have-it-out argument. “And…why didn’t you tell me that’s what you wanted to do? Give me some time to talk some sense into you? What am I supposed to do now? I can’t very well go against your last wishes, now can I?”