by James Villas
“I didn’t have anything really earthshaking to say, honey,” she finally responded in a halting manner. “Only that it’s always disturbed me that you’ve had so few emotional ties with this wonderful town where you were born—or, for that matter, any place in the South. You can’t ignore your roots, Son. All we really have in the long run are our roots and our past, and many of yours are right here. That’s the main reason I wanted you to see Charleston again.”
He smiled again. “You do sound like Scarlett O’Hara.”
“Don’t be impudent.”
Although Tyler was a bit perplexed by her cliché, he decided it was easier to indulge her fancy than to question her logic. “I guess that’s why you wanted to visit that old friend’s grave.”
Her insides churning, it took all Ella’s emotional strength to drum up the will to respond without wincing.
“Yes, he was part of my past here, and we should never forget anybody who played a role in our past.” She stopped to reflect, her eyes blinking rapidly as she pushed rice around in the small bowl with her fork. “You would have liked Jonathan Green. He was a fine young man.”
After lunch, Ella suggested they drive down to Battery Park past the Greek-Revival Edmondston-Alston Mansion with its three-story piazza overlooking the harbor, but when she saw White Point Gardens, where she’d been married in the Gazebo and where she’d fled from Jonathan’s apartment that dreadful afternoon, the memories became so overwhelming that, instead of stopping to walk around and take in the spectacular view of Fort Sumpter, she told Tyler just to head back to Myrtle Beach so they’d both have time for a good nap. During the drive, Tyler kept expecting his mother to ask more questions about his medical problem, but the subject was never once mentioned again, as if she’d erased it from her mind or it simply didn’t exist.
Chapter 19
MAGIC
Sitting alone in a deep, cushioned cane chair at one end of the reception hall, Edmund O’Conner looked up from his book when Tyler greeted him and said that they were just returning from their excursion to Charleston. Ella did appear to Edmund to be more preoccupied, or maybe tired, than usual, but when he explained that Sal and Elizabeth had already left to take the boys downtown for the early dinner theater extravaganza at Dixie Stampede, she didn’t hesitate a second to insist that he join the three of them later in the dining room.
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude on—”
“Don’t be silly, Edmund,” she said. “You certainly can’t eat by yourself, and we’d be more than happy to have you at the table.”
“On one condition,” he accepted cheerfully. “That I order us a nice bottle of wine tonight.”
“How gracious of you,” Ella agreed, still acting and sounding a little wrapped up in her thoughts. “Now we’re both off to stretch out awhile, if you’ll excuse us.”
Upstairs, Tyler did go sound asleep almost immediately, while Ella, hearing Goldie’s TV set, wasted no time tapping on the door.
“I need to discuss something important with you, dear. Can you come in for a minute?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Goldie said, cutting down the TV and setting a glass of Coke on the bureau before stepping through the doorway.
“It’s Mr. Tyler,” she said straightaway, lighting a cigarette and sitting on the foot of the bed while Goldie stood in the middle of the floor.
“Is something wrong, ma’am?”
“Yes. I mean, I think so. I don’t know for sure, but I think Tyler’s very sick, Goldie.”
The Indian, clasping the long shell necklace around her neck, bent over as if trying to hear better. “Did you say sick?”
Ella tried to control her emotions, but, as her voice became more and more flimsy, it became obvious she was on the verge of tears.
“My boy’s sick, Goldie,” she began to sob, her eyes watering as she instinctively flicked an ash off her dress.
“What do you mean, Miss Ella?”
“Tyler’s sick—he’s not well.”
“He seems fine to me—except he’s lost some weight and—”
“I tell you, Goldie, he’s not well, and he’s already had an operation, and…I don’t know what’s going to happen to him, and…” She choked up even more and began coughing. “Goldie, you’re the only person…the only person I know I can talk to about it.”
When she continued to cough, Goldie asked if she was all right, to which Ella responded “I’m smoking too much,” then began sobbing.
This was the first time Goldie could remember seeing Ella cry since Big Earl died, and, for a moment, she didn’t know quite what to do or say. Then, forsaking all strictures that, for years, had governed much of their stilted personal relationship, she moved over, took the cigarette from Ella’s fingers, snuffed it out in an ashtray, and awkwardly held her head against her body while the older woman wept uncontrollably.
“What is it, Miss Ella?” she asked calmly after a long wait.
“The colon. He has bad problems with his colon,” Ella finally said, dabbing her eyes unwittingly with a piece of Goldie’s coarse dress and withdrawing her head from the other woman’s gentle grasp.
Goldie, backing away while Ella fingered the sides of her hair and began to regain her composure, appeared baffled. “I’m not sure what that is, ma’am.”
“Oh, of course you do,” Ella said impatiently, now coughing again. “Everybody knows what the colon is, woman. It’s down near…It’s part of the…You know, it’s in the pit of the stomach—where you get colitis from eating the wrong things.”
“Oh,” Goldie muttered, again fondling her shells.
“But it doesn’t matter. Tyler doesn’t have just colitis. He could have something much worse, we think, and he’s going to have to have all this treatment to cure it, and…well, he might be coming down to spend some time with us in Charlotte. I want him to see one of our fine doctors up at Duke or Chapel Hill, but whether he does or not, there’s a good chance he’ll be spending some time at the house. And maybe Barry will come too. I don’t know what’s going to happen…. I just don’t know, Goldie, but…I haven’t had time to think it all out. I need time to think it all out.”
Goldie had a worried look in her dark, glistening eyes that betrayed her confusion over Ella’s ramblings, but never one to pry too deeply into highly sensitive matters, she asked simply, “What can I do, Miss Ella?”
“Well,” Ella continued, getting up, lighting another smoke, and coughing again as she paced the floor, “what I need to know, Goldie…all I’m wondering is whether you’d be able to spend more time at the house if we needed you.”
“Why, you know I would, Miss Ella. You know I’d do anything to help you and Mr. Tyler. You should know by now you don’t even have to ask.”
“Thank you, dear,” she resumed in her normal tone of voice, as if another major problem had been solved and a potential catastrophe averted. “Of course it may never happen. He may be just fine. But if he did come, it’s good to know I can count on you.” She took a long draw and stared out the window. “I’ve been beside myself with worry and really don’t know how I’ll deal with this.”
Goldie moved over behind her and put her hand around her waist. “We’ll just take it a step at a time, won’t we? And I’ll do some special chants for him. I will.”
Ella held her gaze out the window, then said calmly, “Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you, Goldie. You’re a good woman.”
“We’ve been through lots together,” Goldie hemmed, not knowing really how else to react to the compliment. “I know I’m not too smart, but—”
“Don’t say that, Goldie,” Ella declared, turning around abruptly. “Never say that again. You’re one of the smartest women I’ve ever known, and don’t you forget that.”
“Thank you, Miss Ella,” she said meekly, stepping away.
“But please, dear, please don’t mention any of this to Mr. Tyler or anybody else.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. It’s our little secret. I
know that.”
“And oh, yes, Goldie, Dr. O’Conner’s folks have gone downtown tonight, and I’ve asked him to join us for dinner so he won’t be alone.”
“You like Dr. O’Conner a lot, don’t you, ma’am?”
Ella cracked a smile. “Nobody fools you, do they, Goldie? What do you think of him?”
“Oh, I think he’s a wonderful man,” she said with conviction, now twisting what looked like some style of green leather hair band she’d pulled out of the pocket of her smock.
“Not that there’s anything really serious between the two of us, you understand,” Ella assured guardedly, touching her hair again.
“Oh, no, ma’am. But if you don’t mind me saying so, I have noticed the way he looks at you real special sometimes.”
“Do you really think so?” she hedged, her eyes fluttering.
“Oh, yes, ma’am, and the way he touches you sometimes.”
Ella snuffed out the cigarette in the ashtray in her hand. “Oh, get on with you, woman. You forget how old I am, and Dr. O’Conner’s just being nice and friendly. When you get to be my age, dear, you no longer expect moonlight and magnolias, and, well…to tell the truth, I’ve scarcely looked at another man since Mr. Earl passed away.”
“Oh, nobody could ever replace Mr. Earl, I know that,” Goldie said, sitting in the straight chair at the dressing table and wondering just how far she could pursue the intimate subject. “But if you don’t mind me asking, ma’am, don’t you ever miss having a man around the house? I know I do sometimes.”
Normally, Ella would have dismissed such a probing question from Goldie as an intrusion into her private world, but given her anxiety and confusion now over so many matters, and the compulsive need to confide certain emotions in someone she knew she could trust unequivocally, she lowered her defenses a little.
“Maybe the companionship at night,” she confessed almost shyly. “Of course, I’m used to having you around most days, and, as you know, I do stay pretty busy. But, yes, sometimes I do get a little lonesome at night.”
“I hope you know if you ever needed me at night…”
“Oh, I don’t mean lonesome like that, dear. Don’t forget I’ve learned to be pretty independent. It’s just that some nights I remember what it was like when Mr. Earl was still alive.”
“That’s when I miss Bud most, too.”
Ella raised her head and stared intently over at the Indian. “I’ve never asked you this, Goldie, but haven’t you ever thought about marrying again?”
Goldie sat twisting her hair band. “Oh, yes, ma’am. I thought about it.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“One reason is ’cause nobody ever asked me. Oh, I went out with some fellas a long time after Bud and John died, and I used to talk with my Spirits, but you see, ma’am, I think the Great Spirits intend for us all to have only one really special person in our life, and that person can never be replaced in the same way—no matter who else comes along. I had Bud, and you had Mr. Earl, and I always knew how much in love you were with Mr. Earl.”
Ella sat perfectly still, her eyes again fluttering rapidly. “Wasn’t there ever anybody special before Bud, Goldie?”
“No, not really. Oh, I went out with one fella on the reservation for a long time, but”—her expression became almost solemn—“the minute I met Bud, I knew…. I knew this was the man who was intended for me. Maybe we were just young and kinda crazy, but…No, ma’am, there was only one Bud, and I never could love another man the way I loved him.”
Ella still didn’t budge for a moment, her mind bursting with thoughts and realizations and questions about what all Goldie was saying. Then, as if coming out of another trance, she slowly got up from the bed, patted Goldie on the shoulder, and said, “I’m glad we had this little talk, dear. Now we really must start thinking about getting ready for dinner.”
“I thought I’d wear my flower tunic and glass bead necklace tonight,” Goldie said proudly, looking for Ella’s nod of approval.
“That would be nice, dear.”
When Goldie left the room, Ella collapsed in her chair at the window, her nerves a bit more relaxed but her breathing still slightly labored as she reflected on what Goldie had said, and all that had transpired in Charleston, and what she must do next. Foremost in her mind, naturally, was Tyler’s health, but once she’d rationalized further that his condition would no doubt improve with the right medical treatment and personalized care, what now began to dominate her thoughts impulsively was the image of Jonathan’s grave and how the visit had only served to revive still more tangled memories that often seemed to threaten her very sanity. Desperately she tried to sort out the complications swirling in her brain and dispel the anxiety, but the more she analyzed the confused crises, the more she was trapped between the present and the past, reality and fantasy, truth and fiction. Suddenly she felt so alone, more alone than she’d ever been in her life, and even though the mild salt breeze was blowing through the window over her entire body, her fragile face was soon drenched in perspiration that caused her makeup to run down her cheeks. She considered taking a shower, but too weak to go through the ordeal just yet, and now having a hard time catching a deep breath, she pulled herself up, took one of her tiny pills, and lay flat on the bed.
The next thing she realized, Tyler was standing over her repeating “Mama” while Goldie wiped her forehead and cheeks with a cool towel. What had happened was that Goldie, not having heard from Ella as evening approached and unable to rouse her when she finally entered the room again and found her on the bed, had panicked at the sight of her sallow complexion, fled down the hall, and pounded frantically on Tyler’s door, waking him up.
“Are you okay, Mama?” he kept asking as he held her hand and gently shook one of her arms. “Wake up, Mama. Are you okay?”
Ella focused on him, then wondered aloud why Goldie was wiping her face with the towel. “What’s happening?” she asked groggily, as if not sure where she was.
“Are you feeling all right, Mama?”
She still didn’t budge for a few more hazy moments, then, gradually making the effort to get up, muttered “Mercy me, I must have dropped off. What in heaven’s name are you two doing in here?”
Tyler studied her pasty face now caked with uneven makeup. “You did more than drop off, Mama. You were in a dead sleep and had Goldie worried to death.”
“Why, that’s ridiculous. I guess I was exhausted from the trip and just having a good nap, that’s all. Doesn’t anybody have the right to take a good sound nap?”
“Miss Ella, are you sure you feel like going down to dinner tonight?” Goldie asked with grave concern. “Maybe you’d like to just rest and let me order you some soup or a salad.”
“Are you crazy, woman?” Ella protested in her typical manner, pulling herself up. “I feel fine now, and we do have a date with Dr. O’Conner. Mercy, what time is it?” She glanced at the bedside clock. “Good Lord, it’s after six, and I haven’t even changed or…We should be downstairs right now for drinks. Tyler, you’re not even dressed yet. Go get dressed, Son, and call…No, I’m sure Dr. O’Conner’s already on the porch, so Goldie, why don’t you call down to reception and tell them to inform Dr. O’Conner that we’re running a few minutes’ late.”
Eventually, all four were gathered for the ritual cocktail hour, plus a quick review of the trip to Charleston, but once Riley had seated them in the dining room, Goldie and the two men couldn’t help but notice Ella’s strange, withdrawn mood generated possibly by the straight Jack Daniel’s on the rocks she’d downed on the porch. Even more unusual was the need for Goldie to suggest certain dishes when Ella seemed indifferent to the menu, and since she now hardly opened her mouth to make some pronouncement, or to criticize, or to exclaim about one thing or another, conversation amongst the other three was awkward. Normally, Goldie was hesitant to relate any stories or express opinions to anyone for fear of appearing foolish, but when, to break the silence at one point,
Tyler asked what she’d done interesting during the day while he and his mother were away, she now seemed eager to describe a rather bizarre episode that had occurred on the beach.
“I was taking a long walk, and there was this man fishing by himself, and when I went up to peek in his bucket, we started talking, and soon he told me about his wife who used to always fish with him but who had died not long ago. He acted real, real sad and down in the dumps, so I told him he should remember that his wife’s spirit was right there with him while he fished and that he shouldn’t feel alone. Then I explained how a sacred chieftain of my tribe once told us that if you weighed someone the second before they die, then weighed them again the second afterward, there would be a difference of about one pound, which proves that we really do have a soul, and that it weighs about one pound, and that it leaves the body the instant we die. Then I told him about my husband and son, and how a day never goes by that something doesn’t make me aware of their spirits, and that the same is true with him. I think it made him feel lots better.”
The other three sat staring at Goldie as she picked at her crabmeat cocktail till Edmund asked, “Do you really believe that, Goldie?”
“Of course she does,” Ella answered quickly, a restored glow in her face and sudden change in her mood as she sipped the French Chablis that Edmund had ordered. “And I do too. Why didn’t you ever tell me about that, Goldie?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. But that’s what our great chieftain said, and I know he was right.”
“If you say so, Goldie,” Tyler mumbled skeptically while reaching for a biscuit.
This time after dinner, Ella didn’t insist that Tyler come along when Edmund suggested cordials in the lounge, not only because she knew he needed rest but also because she felt she’d explode if she went another day without unloading some of her emotional troubles on someone besides Goldie who might understand. No, Edmund O’Conner was certainly not the old friend or confidant she might normally turn to in time of desperation, but somehow instinct informed her that, in a short space of time, this intelligent, gentle doctor from New Jersey who had shown such affection and made her feel so young and special again was also that rare individual capable of listening to another’s tribulations and genuinely caring.