The Memoir of Johnny Devine

by Camille Eide

  A number of phone messages littered Eliza’s door. As she sorted through them, her heart sank. None were from John.

  But there was one—she gasped. A message from Vlad asking for a return call as soon as possible.

  “Oh! This might be about Aunt Katerina.” Eliza grasped Betty’s arm. “Shall we call him now?”

  “Yes, of course!”

  Eliza found Vlad’s telephone number.

  Once the call was approved and placed, a very exuberant Vlad answered. “Finally! I begin to fear you changed your mind. I have received telegram from Katerina. Would you like to hear it now?”

  “Yes, please.” Eliza motioned Betty closer and tilted the receiver so Betty could hear.

  Vlad cleared his throat. “‘Dearest nieces, I cannot describe how my heart bursts with joy to find you and know you are well. I wish to see you. Please write. I also wish to hear of my brother and his life in America. My heart grieves he is gone, but finding you is my greatest comfort and best consolation.’”

  Betty stepped away.

  Vlad went on. “Kat sends love and hopes to hear from you soon.”

  Watching her sister, Eliza nodded. “Thank you so much, Vlad. If I send you a letter, can you translate it and send it to her?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Eliza thanked him again, then ended the call and turned to Betty. “What’s wrong?”

  Betty shook her head. “Nothing. She sounds very kind.”

  “Yes. And strong.” The letter her aunt had written to their father, even if only legible in part, had spoken volumes. “She helped Papa escape, knowing she would probably never see him again. How difficult that must have been for her. I wonder, if she could have foreseen the outcome, if she would have done anything differently.”

  “I doubt it. What option did they have?”

  Eliza shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, well, let this be a lesson to you.”

  “About what?”

  “Sometimes saying goodbye is for the best.”

  Thankfully, Eliza’s key hadn’t been lost in the scuffle over her purse. She let herself in, looked around, and winced at her unmade bed.

  Betty shook her head with a tsk. “You’re coming for Christmas Eve and staying over. I insist.”

  “All right.” Eliza smiled. “Thank you for bringing me home. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

  “Yes, well.” Betty peered at her. “I don’t suppose you want me to stay a little while? Make sure you don’t have a dizzy spell or … get any silly ideas about calling anyone?”

  Eliza’s smile persisted. “Thank you, but I’ll be perfectly fine, really. And you still have Christmas shopping to do.”

  Betty narrowed her gaze. “Don’t be foolish, Eliza. A man who will break your heart once will do it again. Mark my words.”

  After Betty left, Eliza opened the sliding glass door, stepped out, and glanced around.

  No sign of Mr. Darcy.

  She stepped inside, and as she closed the door, she spied John’s letter peeking out of her purse. She took it out and read it again, aching at his humble request for her forgiveness.

  A sense of urgency pushed her out the door and down the stairs. She gave the operator his telephone number and waited to be connected. There was no answer.

  A little later, she went downstairs and tried again. Still no answer. She tried several more times throughout the evening, with the same results.

  The next day, Eliza woke to the realization that it was the twenty-third of December and she hadn’t done a single thing to prepare for Christmas. She could not arrive at Betty’s empty-handed. Donning her long coat, she headed downstairs, then paused at the telephone.

  He had to answer sometime.

  “Hello?” Duncan’s voice.

  “Duncan, this is Eliza. May I speak to John?”

  “He’s not here, Miss.”

  “When do you expect him to return?”

  “Couldn’t say. He left town.”

  Eliza thanked him, hung up, and headed for the drugstore. Her plan was to find something inexpensive for her niece and nephew. But once inside the store, she found herself roaming the aisles in a daze, sorrow weighing her steps like sandbags. Where had John gone? Perhaps to stay with friends over Christmas. She should have given him a chance to explain himself that day at the hotel, shouldn’t have said all those hurtful things that she had. She couldn’t blame him for leaving town.

  God, please be with him, wherever he is.

  She shouldn’t have been so quick to compare him to Ralph. John would never knowingly humiliate Eliza.

  And on that note, the lingering cloud of humiliation hovering over Eliza’s life needed to disappear. John’s reckless mistake had resulted in a child. But the child was no mistake. It wasn’t Judy’s fault that the adults in her life had made poor decisions. A child shouldn’t feel as if she were the reason for someone else’s shame. Not her parents. And certainly not Eliza’s.

  If Eliza still felt humiliated over her childlessness, perhaps it was because she chose to feel that way. What was it that Millie had said? “The Lord is the portion of mine inheritance and of my cup.” Wasn’t that her way of telling Eliza to be content with what she had and stop wasting her energies on anger and longing? Wasn’t that the lesson Millie wanted Eliza to grasp?

  Dear God, please help sweet Millie. Please heal her body, or else gather her gently into Your arms, whatever is best.

  And please help me. I’ve been so blind.

  Eliza chose a small model airplane that she hoped Eddie Jr. didn’t already have, and a pink-and-white-striped scarf for Sue Ellen, then took her purchases and headed for the nearest bus stop. She needed to see Millie one more time, if for no other reason than to pay her respects. And most likely to say goodbye.

  A young man was stroking Millie’s hand when Eliza arrived. People stood on either side of the bed where the tiny woman lay.

  The tiny woman whose eyes were open.

  Eliza let out a gasp. “Millie?”

  “Miz Eliza, bless your heart,” Millie whispered. “Come close. Don’t ’spect you come all this way to … look at my ugly feet.”

  The young man stepped aside, and Eliza moved as close to Millie as she could.

  “How are you feeling?” As soon as she said the words, Eliza wanted to snatch them back. What kind of a question was that?

  “My bones feel like dancin’.” A slow smile crossed her face.

  A man about Eliza’s age shook his head. “Grandmama, you can dance later. You gotta rest now, like the doctor said. You hear?”

  “Miz Eliza,” Millie whispered.

  Eliza leaned closer. “I’m here.”

  Eyes closed, Millie smiled. “You ever hear the story … how the Lord told Ezekiel to talk to a … valley full o’ dry bones?”

  Eliza shook her head. “No.”

  Millie nodded. “He did. And them bones come together … with flesh and skin and even eyeballs.” Millie drew a long, labored breath. “Then Ezekiel called the four winds ... and the Lord … breathed … and them bones come to life. Rose up on they feet … a vast army.”

  Eliza waited, but worry tugged at her chest. Shouldn’t Millie be saving her strength?

  “The Lord used … dead men’s bones … not livin’ men.” She worked for a few more breaths. “Can’t win battles ’less you die first. That’s when …” She inhaled and looked at Eliza. “The Spirit of the Lord give you breath … and then you really alive.”

  A muffled sob sounded behind Eliza. A teary-eyed woman moved in and leaned closer to Millie. “Now, Mama, no need to be talkin’ about dyin’.”

  But Millie only smiled. “Come closer. I can’t bite … they took my teeth.”

  Eliza looked around.

  Millie meant her?

  She moved as asked, her face nearly touching Millie’s.

  “You a beautiful soul,” she whispered. “With a kind heart and … a w
ay with words.” She closed her eyes. “Use that for the Lord, child.” She inhaled again. “The Lord use beauty and kindness and words … same way He use armies and dry bones and … my grandmama’s apple dumplin’.” Her face scrunched with each breath. “Whatever it take to … help this fallen world find Him. You got … a heart for them that nobody listen to.” She nodded. “You let Him breathe into you, child … and use those things He give you. He’ll help you fight the good fight … change the world.” Millie’s eyes closed and a smile settled on her lovely face.

  Tears trickled down Eliza’s cheeks unchecked. She reached around Millie, hugged her gently, and kissed her forehead. Then she straightened and turned to Millie’s waiting family, struck with a numbing sense of dismay. Had Millie spent the last of her strength on Eliza?

  The middle-aged woman touched Eliza’s arm. “I think Mama been savin’ up to tell you that.” Her voice cracked. “She’ll rest now. Don’t you worry.”

  Tears blinded Eliza. She nodded. “Thank you for sharing her with me.”

  Eliza only made it halfway to the elevator before she could go no farther, blinded by tears. Millie’s faith in Eliza was a gift more precious than any other, like a map to a treasure Eliza thought she’d lost, a glimpse of greater things she had been too obstinate to see.

  Significance wouldn’t come from fighting to make the world acknowledge her worth. It would come from resting in the knowledge that she was loved by God and gifted for a purpose.

  Yes, I surrender. Breathe Your life into me. Change me and make me new. I surrender.

  Eliza stood alone in the corridor. She would help free the oppressed. Not just those oppressed by injustice, but also those bound by chains of their own making, like discontent. Like shame or shortcomings or a desperate longing for what they didn’t have.

  Closing her eyes, she offered up a silent prayer. God, please help John be free of his past once and for all—

  “Eliza?”

  She gasped and looked at him. “John?”

  “Is she …?” John glanced down the hall at the room where Millie lay, his expression strained.

  Eliza collected herself. “She was awake a moment ago. She … spoke to me. But …” Her voice broke.

  John studied her, then looked toward the room. “Will you please wait for me?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’ll wait.”

  With a terse nod, he disappeared into Millie’s room.

  Eliza found an empty chair and sat down, suddenly pressed by the weight of too many emotions and the return of pain in her head. She closed her eyes.

  Moments later, the sound of John’s voice stirred her awake.

  She must have drifted off. She started to rise.

  “No, please, don’t get up,” he said quickly. “You’re done in. But I’d like to ask you to hear me out. I won’t keep you long, I promise.”

  Tears swam again. “John, I’m not—”

  “Please, Eliza?”

  The pain in his voice crushed her. “Yes.”

  He leaned heavily on his cane. “It was crazy to hope you wouldn’t be touched by my past, Eliza. And now it’s happened, just as I feared.” Remorse filled his eyes. “I’m so sorry for not telling you. Please believe that I never meant to hurt you.”

  Eliza nodded, unable to speak.

  He swallowed hard. “I will talk to the girl’s mother and tell her I can’t keep being part of a lie. I don’t know what will happen, but … I promise you I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. I hope you can forgive me, but even more, I hope this hasn’t made you unable to trust God. I’m the one who betrayed you, not—”

  “John.” She stood and faced him. “You told me that Christ gave Himself in order to be held accountable for your sins. So do you think He would want you to keep paying for the same mistake over and over?”

  Slowly, he shook his head.

  “And didn’t you tell me that God forgives and forgets?”

  John nodded.

  “It’s not Judy’s fault.” Her tears streamed freely, washing away the last traces of her old humiliation. “You’ve already paid. That little girl shouldn’t have to pay too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I believe you’ve tried very hard to do what’s right. And that you’re doing the best thing you can right now, given the circumstances. But there is one thing I would ask of you.”

  He searched her face. “I’ll do anything, Eliza,” he said, deep voice faltering. “Anything. Just say the word.”

  “Will you forgive me?”

  His brow gathered in confusion. “Forgive you?”

  “I’m sorry, John. I love you. I’m so sorry—”

  He crushed her to him and held her tight.

  36

  “I can’t believe that lunatic left you bleeding in an alley.” John shook his head, jaw muscles rippling.

  Eliza sighed. The last thing she wanted to talk about on the way to Christmas Eve dinner at Betty’s was Agent Robinson. “The police will deal with him, and he’ll get what he deserves. They’ve been in contact with the HUAC, and he will face assault charges.”

  “That’s good, but he hasn’t heard the last from me.”

  Eliza slipped her hand into his. “My, this is a side of you I’ve never seen.”

  John squeezed her hand, then frowned at it. “I should have been with you.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” she said. “Anyway, it’s over now. And because Robinson harassed me and I brought it to the agency’s attention, they’re finding I wasn’t the only victim, which has launched a full investigation of HUAC tactics. I have a feeling there will be changes soon. Maybe McCarthy and his hounds will be shut down completely.”

  John leaned close and kissed her temple. “Remind me never to take sides against you.”

  Eliza studied him. “Now what makes you say that? I’m just a meek little typist, minding my own business.”

  He lifted a single brow. “Meek?”

  She nodded.

  John burst out laughing.

  The cabbie glanced at them in his mirror.

  John tugged her close to his side, still laughing.

  Betty outdid herself with a delicious Christmas Eve meal of spareribs and candied yams, a Peterson family tradition. Then she announced that Odella had baked several pies before taking time off for the holiday.

  Eliza followed her sister to the kitchen to help serve dessert.

  Once they were inside, Betty paused and turned to her. “It’s because of you that I gave Odella the extra time off, you know.”

  “Me?”

  Betty inclined her chin. “I’m not as indifferent to the plight of others as you think.”

  After dessert, the kids took turns reading from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe around the Christmas tree. John politely endured Eddie Jr.’s parade of model airplanes and Ed’s endless questions about filmmaking, Hollywood scandals, and what was next for John. Although the deal was still in negotiation, the talk of a film based on John’s book was likely to become a reality.

  Mesmerized, Eliza listened to John’s voice and the grace with which he answered questions. Perhaps, in time, Betty would see what kind of man John really was.

  As she and Betty rinsed the dishes, Eliza peeked through the dining room doorway at John and then turned to Betty. “Looks like you’ll finally get your wish.”

  “And what wish is that?” Betty wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist.

  “That I’ll settle down and be a proper housewife.” Eliza handed Betty the last plate for the dishwasher.

  Betty set the dish in the rack and closed the door. She took a dishtowel and wiped the counter. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Betty folded the towel and laid it on the counter. “I tried to fill in when Mama died. I thought I was doing the right thing, steering you into marriage. But—”

  “Oh, Betty. I know it wasn’t easy filling in for Mama. I appreciate all y
ou’ve done to look out for me. Really, I do.”

  Betty’s eyes glistened. “Look out for you? Ralph was a bully. And I pushed you into that.” She turned away.

  Eliza took hold of Betty’s shoulders and turned her back. “It wasn’t your fault. Ralph fooled us all. Some people are just good at putting on the kind of face everyone wants to see.”

  Betty shook her head. “Not you. You don’t worry about what anyone thinks. You can be different. And you’re at peace with that. Sometimes … I wish I had that.”

  “You do?”

  Betty nodded.

  With a shrug, Eliza said, “Who says you can’t?”

  Betty stared at her, then glanced out the curtained window which offered a partial view of the bare trees encircling the backyard. She mimicked Eliza’s shrug. “No one, I guess.”

  Eliza hugged her. “I love you, sis.”

  37

  A warm spring breeze ruffled the hem of Eliza’s dress, tickling her knees. She laid a bouquet of daisies on the flat stone, then tucked gloved hands into the crook of her husband’s elbow. The simple stone contained Millie’s name, the dates that marked her life, and a single line of inscription:

  Blessed are the peacemakers,

  for they shall be called the children of God.

  She squeezed his arm and spoke lightly to keep her voice from breaking. “I wish I’d had more time with her. Instead, I have to store up everything she said to me like a treasure.” She read the inscription again. “What do you suppose she’s doing now?”

  “Dancing,” John said quietly.

  Eliza sighed. “She wanted to be with Jesus, so I guess I should be glad for her, but …”

  “But what?”

  She turned to him. “I loved Millie. She was like a mother to me. And I still need her. If I am ever to succeed at the things she believed me capable of, I need her perspective. I need to better understand oppression from her viewpoint.”