In a little while her rocking slowed. I waited and waited. Finally, it came to a standstill. There was no way of knowing how this would turn out, but as far as I was concerned, it was all in the Lord’s hands. Feeling cramped in that narrow space, I shifted onto my side to better see outside. Mists were rising from the rocks. The sun must be coming out. If it was, it wouldn’t have long to go before it set. If we’re going home, we shouldn’t wait too long.
After a while, Dora unlocked her arms from around her knees and rolled out from under the shelf. Is she going to leave me under here? I wondered. I pulled myself closer to the edge and was ready to try to get out by myself, but Dora reached down, took hold of both of my hands, and pulled me to safety. She saw me settled on the rock before she sat down herself.
You would think I would feel awkward, us sitting there not saying a word, but I was so relieved that Dora was alive and that I had not killed myself, no matter what might happen later it would have to be a piece of cake.
I could tell by her eyes that Dora’s grief was not yet spent, but maybe the worst of it was behind her. She seemed content just sitting there, watching the clouds breaking up and scattering, the pale sun showing its face.
The longer we sat there not saying a word, you’d think I would get nervous again, but I didn’t. Maybe I was too wore out to get nervous, or maybe it was because Dora was a strong woman and I knew she’d take care of me. But the truth is, I was feeling that warm peace that comes over me sometimes for no reason at all. I did wonder what Dora had in mind. Was she going back to Priscilla Home, or would she just see me there safely then go on her way hitchhiking back to Tennessee?
The sun would soon go in back of the trees; if we wanted to get out of the woods before dark, we didn’t have much time. Still I didn’t say anything. Dora probably knew it was getting late; she had to be the one to make the move.
In a little while, I don’t know why, I just started in singing. I didn’t care that my voice box was all out of whack—I just sang from my heart those precious words:
No one understands like Jesus,
Every woe He sees and feels;
Tenderly He whispers comfort,
And the broken heart He heals.
I felt so helpless. If only I could take that poor girl’s hand and put it in the hand of Jesus. I felt downright weepy, singing,
No one understands like Jesus,
When the days are dark and grim;
No one is so near, so dear as Jesus,
Cast your every care on Him.
I did a pretty good job of not showing my feelings, but I tell you, my heart was so full I just ached. I wanted to put my arms around her and hold her, but you don’t mother Dora, not a strong woman like her.
The wind was picking up, and I shivered in those wet clothes. Leaning back on the rock, propped up on her elbows, Dora lifted her face toward the sky and said, “Sing it again, Miss E.”
And I did.
After I finished, Dora stood up, took my hand, and pulled me to my feet. We started back across the rocks.
14
I was so beat, I doubt that I could have made it back to the house without Dora’s help. She held on to me going across the falls over those slick rocks and didn’t let go until we were on safe ground. Safe ground? Well, you might call it that, but she had to blaze the way ahead of me going down through the woods. I was amazed at the way she zigzagged through the brush, making a path out of no path. When we came to that roadblock, she had me hold on to her waist as she climbed around one boulder and scaled down the steep side of another. Then she guided me around rhododendron thickets, and in half the time it had taken me to climb up there, she had us back on the trail that led up to the house.
As we were coming up to the back door, I was relieved to see the light on in Ursula’s apartment. That meant she was up there doing her paperwork and we could slip in the house without her catching us. We could hear the girls talking and laughing on the front porch, so Dora and I slipped inside unnoticed.
When we reached the second floor, Dora said to me, “Once the moon is right, we’ll plant the garden.”
That was her way of telling me she was staying on. “Good, Dora,” I said, and she went up the stairs to the third floor.
I went in my room, anxious to get out of those wet clothes and into a tub of hot water. My bones were telling me my age and letting me have it for what I had put them through. Hungry as I was, food could wait. I turned on the water in the tub and started taking off my clothes. There’s nothing like a hot bath to take care of body aches and pains. As I soaped myself I discovered more scratches, scrapes, and bruises than Brer Rabbit got in the briar patch. One knee was scraped pretty bad. I gave my hair a good scrubbing and rinsed it under the shower. Then I turned on more hot water in the tub and lay back in water up to my neck. Oooh, that felt good!
As I lay soaking, I thought about the ordeal I had been through. I guessed no woman my age should attempt such a thing, but I’d always had good legs and, well, all I knew was I had to go up there. It was the Lord sent me, otherwise I would not have made it.
I heard the screen door bang a couple of times. The women must be coming back inside. I sure hoped Ursula was staying in her apartment so I wouldn’t have to explain anything to her. I kept listening to hear if she came into the office. She didn’t. That was a relief—I could soak as long as I wanted to.
Fifteen minutes later, I was still in the tub when somebody knocked on my door. Uh-oh, I thought, and yelled, “I’m in the tub.”
“It’s just us,” one of the girls answered.
“Okay, just a minute.” I got out, dried myself, and put on my robe. Opening the door, there stood Brenda with a supper tray and half a dozen of the women crowding around. “Oh my, what’s this?”
“It’s supper. Can we come in?”
“Sure.” I opened the door wider to let them in. “I can go to the table—”
Brenda laughed. “No way, Jose, this is room service!”
“Room service? How come?”
“Dora said you got caught in the rain,” Linda said. “Now tell us the truth. Where’ve you been?”
I let that question hang. “Well, if you insist on serving me in here, I’ll take the chair and you all sit anywhere you can find a place.” They piled onto the bed or sat cross-legged on the floor, and with the tray on my lap I lit right into those chicken and dumplings.
Martha picked up Bud’s picture from off the TV. “This your husband?”
“Yes, that’s Bud.” I knew they were curious to know if we were divorced or what, so I told them Bud had passed away, that he had been wounded in Vietnam and was sick a long time before he died.
“How long has he been dead?” she asked.
“Seventeen years this fall.”
Martha handed Bud’s picture to Melba to be passed around and asked, “Did you ever think about getting married again?”
“Yes, I’ve thought about that,” I said.
Linda piped up, “Why didn’t you?”
“Why didn’t I get married? Don’t you mean why don’t I get married?”
“That’s the spirit!” somebody cheered, and Linda growled, “Whatever.”
“Why don’t I get married?” I repeated. “Good reason.” I held off on saying what that reason was, taking a sip of coffee and then taking my time buttering a biscuit.
“What’s the reason?” Linda demanded. “Why didn’t you get married again?”
“Nobody asked me.”
That cracked them up! Once we got over laughing, I told them, “Well, to tell the truth, Bud was the best, and once a body has had the best they can’t be satisfied with anything less.”
“Cut the crap!” Linda said. “We want to know where you’ve been, Miss E. Miss Ursula had us out looking for you. She’s probably up in her apartment right now talking to the police.”
Wilma hooted at that. “Linda, that’s a lie! This storm kept Miss Ursula in her apartment all afternoon. Sh
e didn’t even miss Miss E. until supper.”
Angela giggled. “Miss E., I told her you were in your room fasting.”
“Now why would you say a thing like that?”
“First thing I could think of.”
“Now, Angela, you know better than that. You should have told the truth.”
“Didn’t know the truth. I asked Miss Ursula where was Dora and she cut me short—said Dora would be back. I put two and two together, and if I was right about where you were, I sure as shootin’ wasn’t going to tell her!”
“Now, Angela . . .”
Linda wouldn’t let up. “Miss E., you went after Dora, didn’t you?”
Wilma came to my rescue. “Linda, that’s for her to know! It’s none of our business.”
“Says you!” Linda snapped, and got up. “I gotta take a leak.”
“You can use my bathroom,” I told her.
Brenda handed my empty cup to Portia for a refill, and as she got up to go to the kitchen, I told her I took it black. Brenda went on to say, “Miss Ursula said Mr. Ringstaff called and she’s invited him for Sunday dinner. Since Melba and I are doing the cooking, we’d like to come up with something special—you know, a company meal.”
“I know he would like knackwurst,” Lenora said.
“Whatever is that?” Melba asked.
Emily was sitting on the floor next my bedside table, so I motioned to her. “There’s a dictionary right next to you, Emily. How about looking that up for us?”
“I don’t have my glasses,” she said and handed the dictionary to Nancy. Emily never seemed to have her glasses, especially during Praise and Prayer. I figured that was an excuse to get out of being involved. “Emily, did you read the Gospel of John and underline believe as I asked you to?”
“I couldn’t; my glasses are broken.”
This was getting to be a habit. Now she was telling me they were broken, and she hadn’t even started to read John. I would have to do something about this.
Nancy was having trouble finding the word. “Does that start with a k?”
Well, I thought, maybe Emily don’t have the money to get them fixed. Until I knew better, I would give her the benefit of the doubt. Of course, most of those women never seemed to lack money for cigarettes. At the price they had to pay for them, they could max out a credit card real quick.
Be that as it may, if Emily was going to get the help she needed, she would have to get those glasses fixed and read the Bible. Emily’s roommate, Nancy, would know if money was the problem. If it was, I would take care of that. I’d give money to Nancy. I could trust her not to let Emily know where it came from, and in that way Emily wouldn’t be embarrassed. Besides, I didn’t want word to get around that I was a soft touch. A con like Linda would sure take advantage of that.
Nancy finally found knackwurst in the dictionary and read the definition aloud: “Knackwurst: a short, thick, highly seasoned sausage.”
“Scratch that,” Brenda said. “The only sausage we’ve got is Vienna. We’ll make ham or something. I wish we had some green tomatoes. Fried green tomatoes is my Alabama specialty. What’s your specialty, Miss E.?”
“Well, people seem to like my fried apple pies. That’s what I always take to church suppers.”
Portia came back with the coffee. My bottomless pit was right beside my chair so I fished around for my wallet and as a joke came up with a nickel tip for Portia. I kidded her, “Don’t spend it all in one place.” That poor girl didn’t know what to make of it. She just thanked me and held that nickel in her palm like a little child.
I blew on the hot coffee. “Girls, as soon as I finish this second cup, I’m going to hit the hay.”
“That’s a hint,” Angela said, and they all started getting up to leave. “By the way, are we going to the Valley Church Sunday?”
“No, we’ll be going into town.” That brought on a big groan. I laughed. “Well, who knows, in town I might find myself another husband.”
“But you’ve had the best—what more do you want?” somebody said, and they all laughed.
As they were leaving, I asked Nancy to wait a minute. After the others were all gone, I closed the door. “Nancy, can you tell me, is Emily short of money?”
“Well, yes, Miss E., she is short. In fact, she doesn’t have a dime.”
I reached for my wallet again. “Can you keep a secret?” I asked as I counted out a few bills. “Here, I want you to see that she gets her glasses fixed, only promise me you won’t let her know where this comes from.”
Nancy didn’t take the money, just quietly shook her head.
“Oh, come on now. I can well afford this.”
Nancy shook her head again.
Poking the bills at her, I asked, “You mean this isn’t enough to cover it?”
“Miss E., her glasses aren’t broken.”
“No? Then what—”
I was about to spout off about Emily’s excuses when Nancy told me, “Emily can’t read.”
“What? You mean . . . ?”
“Yes, it’s true. Emily can’t read.”
“Oh . . . oh, I see. Well, didn’t she go to school?”
“She went to school all right, but she never learned to read. They kept her back a couple of grades, then just passed her on.”
“How did you find out?”
“One night I heard Emily crying in her pillow, and I wouldn’t give up until she told me the whole story. It’s her vision. Emily was in high school before they finally sent her to a specialist to have her eyes tested. The doctor discovered that she sees only the top half of letters. I guess it was too late to do anything about it, or maybe it can’t be corrected. Anyway, that’s when she dropped out of school.”
“Oh my.”
“It’s been hard for her here since the program involves reading. And she’s so afraid somebody will find out about it she’s been thinking about leaving.”
“We don’t want that.”
“Miss E., she seems better now that you’re here. You’ve made this a happier place.”
I never could handle compliments, so I changed the subject. “Nancy, tell me, is Emily really a professional ice skater?”
“Yes, she is, Miss E., and a good one. She showed me her scrapbook where she’s won a lot of competitions. She spent two years with an ice show that traveled the country. They had to let her go. She’s a heroin addict. She’s tried to get off it—been in treatment three times before—but nothing has had any lasting effects. Her insurance only paid for thirty days of treatment a year, and the policy had a three-year limit. After three years, her drug treatment option was canceled. She was lucky to find Priscilla Home, because it’s about the only place for women that doesn’t charge.”
“Do you think she’s being helped here?”
“It’s hard to tell. There isn’t much Miss Ursula tells her that she hasn’t heard before. Emily’s so nervous in Praise and Prayer I don’t think she gets much out of it.”
I thanked Nancy for telling me and followed her to the door. “I’ll keep this to myself, Nancy, and if you can think of any way we can help this girl, please let me know.” I pressed a five-dollar bill in her hand. “I’m sure Emily can use this.”
I went into the bathroom to doctor my scratches, feeling sad about Emily. How hard, how embarrassing it must be not to be able to read. I doctored several places and applied a few band plasters. Brushing my teeth, I prayed I would find some way of helping that poor girl. After gargling the last of the mouthwash and tossing the bottle in the wastebasket, I rubbed on some liniment, slipped my gown over my head, and went back in my room.
Still thinking about Emily, I ran the brush through my hair, set the alarm, and decided I’d have to sleep on it.
By the time my head hit the pillow, I was asleep.
Saturday morning, I was so wore out, I didn’t hear the alarm and slept through breakfast. When I realized what time it was, I threw on my clothes, grabbed my Bible, and dashed downstairs for
Praise and Prayer. The girls were all in the day room waiting for me. Emily and Nancy were sitting beside each other on the couch, sharing a Bible. I wished I had not told the girls they were to study the Gospel of John independently, because now, if Nancy could study with Emily, it would solve the problem.
Then I got a bright idea: Why not have all of them pair off and allow two women to study John together? Nancy and Emily would be partners then, and it wouldn’t matter how the others paired off.
Well, it didn’t work out quite like I hoped. “Girls,” I said, “what would you think of choosing partners and studying the Gospel of John together?” They liked the idea, but before I could pair them off, Martha said, “Just count off by twos and let one side choose a partner from the other side.”
So we did it that way, only Nancy and Emily were both “twos.” Nancy chose Lenora and Emily chose Portia. At first I wondered why Emily chose Portia, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized why. If Portia found out Emily’s secret, she was one person who would never let on she knew, not even to Emily if she could help it.
After Praise and Prayer, I left my Bible on the couch and went upstairs to the kitchen to help Brenda and Melba plan the menu for Sunday. Once we got that settled, they told me they had a surprise for us—they were going to set us all up to a shampoo and set that afternoon. I was tickled pink to hear that and went back down to the day room to pass the word.
Most of the girls had scattered, but Portia was still sitting on the couch and had my Bible on her lap, paging through it. I figured she had taken a fancy to all those little mementos tucked inside. Well, I didn’t mind if she read them. There was some good stuff in there.
That afternoon, Lenora let Melba cut and style her hair, which made her look 100 percent better. Maybe with a new hairdo she would take more interest in her appearance. With a little effort and a few more pounds, Lenora could be a nice-looking woman.
Good Heavens Page 15