by Rhett DeVane
Two weeks following my release from the hospital, Evelyn and Joe hosted a small celebration in the newly redecorated kitchen/family room. The navy blue and gold paper ware complemented the crisp white and gold tablecloth. A carved watermelon filled with chilled cantaloupe, honeydew, and watermelon balls provided the centerpiece for the buffet. Joe dashed in and out of the screened porch carrying platters of chicken, beef, and pork to the barbecue pit. For the occasion, Evelyn had designed a white chef’s hat for Joe and a coordinating navy-trimmed white apron with an anchor emblem in the center.
As we were finishing the meal, I grabbed Holston’s hand. “We have something to discuss with all of you…since we’re all here together.”
Piddie nearly dropped the sauce-slathered pork rib she’d been nibbling. “Lordy mercy! This family’s beginnin’ to get a reputation for suspense and surprise announcements. It’s a good thing I don’t have a heart condition.”
“Holston and I have set a date for our wedding. It will be held on Saturday, October 26th. The weekend after The Madhatter’s Festival.”
Evelyn put her hand over her heart. “Mercy! That’s only three months away! How can I possibly make your dress in time, Hattie?”
“Here’s the other part. The dress code will be casual—like a big picnic. We’re going to wear blue jeans and white shirts for the ceremony. Jake wants to decorate. We don’t want to waste lots of money on this. It will be very simple—just friends and family.”
Evelyn wrung her hands “Have you called Reverend Ghent? What about the reception? We’ll have to reserve the Women’s Club.”
“Actually, I’ve asked Reverend Julie Crews from Tallahassee Unity Church to perform the service.”
“May I?” Jake interrupted. “I’ve asked Hattie and Holston to allow me to decorate for the wedding—like she said. They have agreed to have an outdoor service. At Turkey Point.”
Silence cloaked the room.
Jake stood and paced around the table. “I know it seems kinda odd, with what happened to me there, but I need desperately to paint good over bad. We all do.” He stopped and rested his gaze on us, one-by-one. “By having a joyous union by the lake, I just know that the love and commitment within you all—my family—will wash the evil away.” Jake paused. “Turkey Point is a beautiful spot with a perfect overlook of Lake Seminole. I will transform it into a magical place for a commitment ceremony.”
“This is a fine fare-thee-well,” Piddie said.
I stepped up to the plate. “Holston and I think it’s a wonderful idea, and we’re looking forward to having our wedding there. The covered picnic pavilion is available. We’ve already reserved it for the combination reception,” I glanced toward Leigh and Bobby, “for both Holston and I, and Bobby and Leigh.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Leigh asked.
“Absolutely. You two never had a party to celebrate your marriage. We can pool our resources and spend the money on a big catered cookout. I know the owner of Sonny’s Barbecue in Tallahassee. They will do it up right. That way, we can all enjoy ourselves with as little stress as possible.”
Piddie clapped her hands together. “You know what this means? We’re all headin’ into a good cluster.”
“Amen, honey!” Jake said.
Evelyn sat straight up. “Can I at least make the white his and hers weddin’ shirts?”
“Sure, as long as you keep it simple. No frou-frou on mine…”
“A few seed pearls?”
“Very few.”
October 25, 2000
Without the flash of police crime scene tape whipping in the lake breeze, Turkey Point was tranquil—a shady hill with a postcard-perfect view of Lake Seminole framed by towering pine and live oak trees. I paused on the same spot where Jake had suffered, searching the area for hidden signs of menace—a black stain left by Marshall Thurgood’s release of white-hot violence. The balmy late October breeze rustled the pine needles, unleashing a whispering call.
“Sister-girl, don’t just stand there drawing gnats, help me with these boxes of lights. They’re light, so you won’t hurt yourself lifting them. Jolene, Stephanie, and Evelyn will be here in a few minutes ready to get started.”
“You really think it’s okay to put these up today? I mean, people steal lights, even at Christmas. It is pretty deserted up here.”
“Not to worry. I have friends in high places.” He grinned. “Rich’s going to swing by several times tonight and keep an eye on the area. He also said he’d set some roadblocks up to keep vehicles out until tomorrow.”
Roadblocks had been in place on this road before. It didn’t stop Marshall Thurgood. I shivered.
“What’sa matter? Rabbit run over your grave?” he asked as he pushed by me with a box of lights.
“Something like that, yeah.” I returned to Pearl’s truck bed, grabbed an armload of white trellises, and followed Jake to the crest of the hill.
It took most of the day to decorate Turkey Point to Jake’s specifications. Two white trellises intertwined with ivy and white lights formed the pulpit at the crest of the hill. On either side of the archway, the tree trunks were wrapped with strands of white lights to six feet above the ground. Several linked extension cords snaked through the trees to the pavilion to provide electrical power.
Four stands of candles stood near the pulpit, positioned to throw a soft, glistening glow on the area where the wedding party would stand. Stephanie and Jolene had carved gallon plastic milk jugs into stenciled luminaries. They were filled with sand and a single candle to illuminate the path leading to the picnic pavilion reception area.
Jake’s plan was timed to work with Nature’s days-end light show. As the sun set over the lake, we would take our vows. The miniature white lights and candles would glow as the fall evening darkness settled over the woods.
The morning of October 26th dawned with the slight hint of upcoming winter. By noon, the temperature was a balmy seventy-five degrees with clear, crystal blue skies dotted by a few wispy clouds. Since Jake and Evelyn were handling the arrangements, and Holston and I were observing the age-old tradition of separation before the ceremony, I took a leisurely walk to the fishpond.
While Spackle chased small frogs at the edge of the water, my mind drifted to memory. Daddy and I, hand in hand. Bobby blazing a trail far ahead of us. Walking through the woods to check the fence lines around the property. The first frost had driven the snakes underground, and we shuffled through the leaves with little fear of startling a rattlesnake. Daddy pointed out trees and called them by name—loblolly pine, hickory, water oak, sweetgum. Our footfall sent startled rabbits and lizards scrambling for cover. Up ahead, Bobby pretended to take aim and fire at an unsuspecting fox squirrel. The musty aroma of rich, dark loam filtered through the air, laced with a hint of distant wood smoke.
The heavenly scent of homemade beef-vegetable soup welcomed us as we stepped onto the back porch, clumping our shoes on the flooring to remove the trail dirt. Mama was humming in the spacious country kitchen, calling for me and Bobby to set the table for dinner and pour the sweet iced tea. The growing darkness outside was held at bay by the glow of kitchen lights as my family settled into the worn wooden chairs for soup and day’s end conversation.
I snapped back to the present with a start when Spackle plopped into my lap and slapped me with his wet tongue. “I could take you back, you know.” I ruffled his mottled fur. “But, no one else would love you like I do.”
The rumble of the ATV announced Jake’s arrival. He negotiated the steep earthen steps carefully, using one of his many everyday canes.
“Whew!” He plopped down beside me. Spackle lunged over to share kisses. “Sister-girl, you gonna sit down here all day by yourself?”
“No, I just needed some space. Why does something we tried to keep so simple seem so complicated all of a sudden?”
“Because everything worth doing always turns into a big pile of poop before it comes out right. You’ll see—a few hours fr
om now, you’ll be married to lover-boy, and up to your armpits—in a white shirt, no less—Sonny’s barbecue sauce, having the time of your life.”
“I’ll have to trust you on that. Evelyn has worked herself up to a high rollin’ boil over my shirt. She can’t seem to get the collar to iron down flat.”
Jake laughed. “Evelyn just lives to be in a fizz. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
He put his hand over mine. “You okay, sister-girl? You seem a little…misty. You having the pre-marriage blues?”
I sighed. “No. I was just thinking about Mama and Daddy. Even though I know they’re just on the other side of here, wherever heaven is. I can’t help wishing they could be here.”
Jake put his arm around my shoulders. “I was lucky enough to know Mr. and Mrs. D. You are the very best blend of both of them. So, in a way, they are going to be there today.”
I smiled at my soul-deep friend. I didn’t trust words to tell him how much he’d enriched my life by simply being himself.
Jake used his cane to help him stand, and wiped the dried grass from his jeans. “C’mon, I’ll give you and the mutt a ride to the Hill. We’ve got to have time to do something with that hair of yours.”
A small crowd of wedding guests were seated around the Turkey Point clearing in folding chairs when Evelyn, Joe, Piddie, and I arrived in the Towncar. Betty was parked next to Bobby’s beat-up pick-up truck by the curb, as Holston, Jake, Leigh, and Bobby had arrived earlier.
“Let me check your shirt one last time.” Evelyn frowned as she straightened the collar. “There.” She patted my shoulder. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes.
“Don’t fail me now, Matron of Honor. If you lose it, so will I!”
Evelyn and Joe looked stiff and out-of-character in their blue jeans and white shirts. Piddie had opted for a long denim shift with a soft pink sweater.
“Joe, go tell Jake we’re here. Then, come on back to take your place,” Evelyn said. We helped Aunt Piddie into her wheelchair, and Rich Burns escorted her to the front row close to the arbor. From the trunk, I grabbed the cluster of silk daisies and dried ferns that Jake had fashioned to look as if I’d been just strolling along in a wildflower field idly picking flowers.
As the October sun began to fall toward the horizon, the soft strains of Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring quieted the crowd. Reverend Julie stood with her back to the water at the crest of the hill. Jake, resplendent in dark blue jeans and white tuxedo shirt, stood beside Holston. The music continued as Evelyn walked dramatically up the aisle and took her position on the opposite side of the groom and the best man.
Joe offered his arm. “Shall we?” The opening strains of the wedding march sounded as Joe and I walked together. Joe placed my hand in Holston’s, then stepped back to the edge of the crowd next to Aunt Piddie.
The service was brief. Reverend Julie spoke of love, commitment, and the universal God-spirit that flows through all life. We exchanged plain gold bands. Holston drew me close to his warmth, and kissed me softly on the lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back and smiling. His dark eyes told me all. I love you. I will honor you. I am your home. We were silhouetted by the soft peach and yellow skies of the sun set over Lake Seminole.
Reverend Julie announced, “I present to you—for your love and support—Mr. and Mrs. Holston Lewis.”
The crowd erupted with applause. Bobby wolf-whistled. Leigh slapped him playfully on the arm. The familiar faces I loved looked at Holston and me: Bobby, Leigh, Joe, Evelyn, Piddie, Jake, Jon Presley, Stephanie, Mandy, Julie, Mr. Bill, Rich and Carol, Chris and Kathy from TPD, Kelly from LCSO, Mary Mathues, Reverend and Lucille Jackson, Garrett, Jillie, Patricia and Rainey with Ruth, Elvina Houston, and a host of my clients and acquaintances from Tallahassee and Chattahoochee. Jon Presley, holding Elvis, who was dressed in a smart sequined white-satin doggie tux, dabbed his eyes with a tissue.
I strained to see the edge of the crowd in the dusk darkness. One face seemed to glow—a slow, knowing smile, a nod, an understanding beyond words. I turned quickly to Jake. He was frozen in place, staring at the same spot in the sea of faces. I jerked my head around to locate the glowing face. It had disappeared.
Jake looked at me, his eyes intense. Yes, I saw him, too. Marshall Thurgood.
“Hattie?” Holston’s voice made me start. “You okay?”
I nodded.
“Let’s go celebrate then, Mrs. Lewis.”
Holston and I walked arm in arm through the luminary-lighted path toward the picnic pavilion. The crowd trickled behind us. The caterers from Sonny’s had prepared two long tables of cooked chicken, beef, and pork ribs, baked beans, coleslaw, and toasted Texas toast garlic bread. A separate table held iced tea, water, lemonade, and urns of fresh coffee. A towering six-layered cake, baked using Piddie’s Best Damn Chocolate Cake recipe, waited on a decorated table. All four of us planned to cut the cake together in celebration of our unions.
After the meal had been consumed, and everyone lounged around looking like an advertisement for stain remover products, the disc jockey Jake had hired cranked up the music by the makeshift dance floor in the parking lot. Deep into the Fall evening, with the music man spinning old disco, Motown standards, and big-band tunes, the fine folks that Holston and I called family and friends shook a leg, cut a rug, and busted a move. Other than exchanging knowing nods to each other, Jake and I never discussed our mysterious experience. Some things you just don’t question.
Excerpt from Max the Madhatter’s notebook, April 1, 1960
Nurse Marion talks with me about all kinds of things – the beauty of the dogwood trees and azalea bushes blooming across the hospital grounds, the laughter of her children, and just everyday life.
Once, when I asked her about happiness, she said, “Max, running after happiness is like a dog chasing his tail—going ’round and ’round and always coming up short. But, when happiness finds you by itself, that’s the true magic. You’ll be busy living and it’ll sneak up and sit down beside you. Just like that! Reminds me of little Dorothy on the Wizard of Oz movie. She thought her happiness was somewhere far off, a ways over the rainbow. Only, she found out it was with her at home, all along.”
Chapter Thirty-four
ADOPTION
Holston and I spent our first night of wedded bliss in the private, newly redecorated master suite on the Hill—a present from Joe and Evelyn. The next day, we packed Betty with an assortment of clothing, camping gear, and coolers, and headed north toward the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. It ruffled my sphinctered feathers not to have any set plans or advance reservations, but Holston convinced me to tempt the travel gods and just get in the SUV and drive. In the two days it took to reach the Great Smokey Mountain National Park, we stopped at least ten times a day to explore anything that tickled our imaginations: a pottery kiln opening in south Georgia, three roadside flea markets, an old black man weaving split oak laundry baskets on his front porch, five fresh produce stands, and nearly every Dairy Queen franchise between Chattahoochee and Asheville, North Carolina.
When we were hungry, we ferreted out a local eatery. When we got tired, we pulled Betty over to a rest area, and napped in her reclining seats. We pitched the five-person dome tent in mom-and-pop campgrounds, state parks, and rustic national forest tent sites close to babbling mountain streams. Personal hygiene fell to an all-time low, depending on the available running water.
Two weeks after we had left for our adventure, we blew into the Hooch, disheveled, odiferous, and relaxed. Upon our return, we initiated the lengthy process toward the adoption of a Chinese national orphan. Patricia outlined the procedure for us, the mounds of authenticated paperwork necessary before we could travel abroad to receive our adopted daughter.
Patricia patiently calmed my overwhelming frustration as we waded through the necessary documentation: medical-exam reports, a home study, bank-account summaries, financial sheets, FBI clearance, child-abuse clearance, police reports, and a c
ertified copy of our marriage license. The results of my follow-up colonoscopy, six months following the surgery, were tagged on to the medical report. Because Holston had been married previously in New York State, a certified copy of his and Claire’s divorce decree had to be authenticated by the secretary of state for New York.
Once all the state-certified, original documents were compiled, the package was sent to the Chinese Embassy in Houston, Texas, for authentication by the Chinese officials. The package was forwarded to our adoption agency in China, where the papers were translated into the Chinese language and turned in to the government for approval.
We breathed a huge sigh of exhausted relief when the documentation finally reached China. At that point, it was out of our hands and into the clutches of foreign bureaucracy. Dr. Paul Wong, alerted by Aunt Piddie, became actively involved. The time span usually took most couples nine months to a year. We received an announcement the first week of April, six months from the time we initiated the adoption. The package contained a medical evaluation and a color picture of the little girl who had been chosen for us.
A brief note, penned by Paul Wong read: “I must tell you what I know of this little child. She is most alert and intelligent for one so young. A fierce spirit resides in this baby.
“She was found in a small, white hand-woven basket, surrounded by wild daises, wrapped in soft clothing. She had a piece of parchment paper attached to her blanket with one Chinese character drawn in black ink. The sign for the word Spring in your language, the word chuntian in our language. She has hence been called Baby Chuntian since she was left in the care of the orphanage three months ago.”
The formal color photograph of Chuntian showed a beautiful infant with a thick head of shiny black hair, and a small dimple on one side of her slight smile. Holston purchased a carved frame for our daughter—Sarah Chuntian Lewis.