by Tommy Hays
“Can I keep the movie?” Sudie asked, studying the back of the DVD case.
Grover looked at the clerk and then back at Sudie, and as he did he heard Matthew’s Sometimes things just happen. Something lifted in him. “I guess it won’t hurt anything,” he said.
Sudie hadn’t waited for his answer to start tucking the DVD into her knapsack.
When they reached the Wolfe house, Little Bit told them their father had someone in his office and that they could wait in the break room, that she’d bought a brand-new box of powdered doughnuts. The Wolfe house wasn’t as busy as it had been the day Grover’s class had come. Attendance had gone down with school about to be out. Even so, there were two church groups and several families.
Mr. Lunsford walked in the front door as they headed to the break room.
“Come on,” Grover whispered, motioning for them to hurry up. Just as Grover thought he’d made it into the safety of the break room, someone caught his arm.
“Saw the big spread in the paper,” said Mr. Lunsford, like he was impressed. He started talking to Little Bit. Grover couldn’t believe Mr. Lunsford was making small talk with her, asking her how her day had been, asking about her family. Grover’s father had told him that Mr. Lunsford was a changed man.
Mr. Lunsford had been all over the TV and the newspaper for donating the land for the children’s park. The headline in the paper had read GENEROUS COMMISSIONER A MODEL OF CHRISTMAS SPIRIT. The Atlanta and Charlotte papers had run articles about county commissioners passing the Childlife Refuge Program. The Associated Press had even run an article and Mr. Lunsford had been getting calls from all over the country to come speak about the Childlife Refuge Program. Grover’s father said Mr. Lunsford had gotten so much attention for being the Generous Commissioner that he had become … well … generous.
Only after talking with Little Bit a while about her grandchildren did Mr. Lunsford ask if their father was in.
“He has someone with him,” Little Bit said. “He has an appointment after this one as well.”
“Tell him that Delbert stopped by to see if he needed anything,” Mr. Lunsford said, wished Little Bit a nice day and left.
Little Bit shook her head. “I can’t get over how much that man’s changed.”
His father stuck his head out of his office, whispering, “Is he gone?”
“He said to tell you that Delbert stopped by,” said Little Bit.
“Why were you hiding?” Sudie asked.
“He comes by two or three times a day, asking if he can do anything,” their father said. “I’m starting to think I prefer the old Lunsford.”
Leila came out from their father’s office, wearing her nurse’s uniform. She must’ve come over from St. Joseph’s and they’d met for lunch. She looked sort of embarrassed and happy at the same time. The six of them walked over to Bean Streets and ordered hot chocolates, and like the last time, it was crowded and the four kids sat at one table and Leila and their father sat across the room. Unlike the last time, Leila and their father talked and when they weren’t talking they were just looking each other in the eyes. Grover was pretty weirded out.
When a family got up from the checkerboard table, Clay and Sudie went over to play, leaving Grover and Emma Lee alone.
“They sure seem different,” Grover said.
“You can say that again,” Emma Lee said.
“They sure seem—”
“Very funny.” Emma Lee sipped her hot chocolate.
“I never thanked you for coming to the Christmas Waltz,” Grover said.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Thank you,” he said.
She looked up at him.
“I mean it,” he said.
“It was a really nice night,” she said. “The nicest night I think I’ve ever had.”
“The kids still talk about your grandmother’s dress,” Grover said.
Emma Lee’s face reddened a little.
Grover’s father burst into laughter at something Leila had said.
“It’s strange for me too, you know,” Emma Lee said, cutting her eyes toward their parents.
Grover didn’t know what to say. He felt selfish having not given much thought about how it might be strange for Emma Lee and Clay too.
“Still,” Emma Lee said, her face softening. “Your father’s a good man.”
“I guess so,” Grover said.
“No guessing about it,” she said. “I know a good man when I see one.” Emma Lee looked at Grover.
“Did God tell your mother it was okay to move back?” he asked.
“Mama hasn’t brought up God much lately.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Grover saw his father lean over and cover Leila’s hand with his own for a moment.
“Guess this means we’ll have to be just friends,” Grover said.
“Were we ever anything else?”
Grover felt his face burning. “Well … I guess I just …”
Emma Lee laughed, and he knew she was messing with him. But then her face went serious and she leaned toward him and lowering her voice said, “Grover. You and me aren’t just friends.”
“We aren’t?”
“Never will be.”
“No?”
“We’re good friends. And no matter what happens …” She glanced toward their parents. “… we’ll stay that way.”
“Are you going to marry Leila?” Sudie asked, carrying the wreath.
Their father laughed.
It was Christmas Eve afternoon, a clear but warm December day. Their father and Sudie had bought a wreath with a red bow on it at the grocery store, and on their way over to Riverside Cemetery had stopped by and gotten Grover, who had been working in the Bamboo Forest.
“No, sweetheart,” their father said, pulling her against him.
“You’re not?” Sudie said.
“You sound a little disappointed,” he said.
“I like Leila,” Sudie said. “I like her a lot.”
“What about you, Grover?” their father asked. “Do you like Leila?”
Grover shrugged.
As they walked out of the Bamboo Forest they passed by the big wooden sign the city workmen had installed where the For Sale signs had stood. The sign read
Lunsford Park
A Childlife Refuge
Biscuit walked over to the sign, sniffed around it for a minute, then lifted his leg and peed.
They walked through Riverside and when they reached their mother’s grave, Grover moved aside what was left of his old weavings, and then Sudie leaned the wreath against the headstone.
“Why aren’t you and Leila getting married?” Sudie asked.
“We’re just getting to know each other.”
“Did you and Mommy have to get to know each other?” Sudie asked.
Grover rolled his eyes.
“Yes, we did.”
“How long did that take?” Sudie asked.
“A couple of years,” their father said, looking at the gravestone, his face emptying out.
“A couple of years? Oh, that’s forever.”
Then their father said, “I want you and Grover to know that if I ever do want to marry someone I would never do it without y’all’s permission.”
“Our permission!” Sudie smiled like she thought this was silly. “Parents are the ones who give permission.”
“Not in this case,” said their father.
“Would you need us to sign a permission slip?” Sudie grinned.
Grover hadn’t been surprised that Sudie had asked if they might get married. Leila and their father had been going for walks every evening after supper, and a couple of times they’d gone out to supper alone. It all made Grover feel pretty unsettled, but he had to admit that his father had seemed happier and more like his old self. Grover kind of understood what his father was feeling. At night whenever Grover went out to the kitchen for a glass of milk and some Oreos or a late-night bowl of cereal, he’d stop by the
front window to see the lights on in the Roundtrees’ house. Just knowing they were over there made him sleep better.
“Guess we better get back,” their father said, glancing at his watch. “I told Jessie we’d come over at six.” They were having Christmas Eve dinner at Jessie’s, and the Roundtrees were coming too, along with Mrs. Sparks, who’d come down from Bakersville and was spending Christmas with them.
Grover turned to their father, wanting to offer him something. “I’m glad the Roundtrees moved back,” he said.
Their father put his hand on Grover’s shoulder.
They started to leave but Sudie ran back, leaned down and kissed their mother’s headstone. “Merry Christmas, Mama.” She squatted there for a minute, but her eyes didn’t redden and her lips didn’t tremble. Biscuit came up beside her and sat.
“You know that dream I used to have?” Sudie said, standing back up.
“The one where Mama gets in the car with us?” Grover asked.
“Yeah,” Sudie said. “I don’t have that dream anymore.”
“You don’t?” Grover asked.
“I didn’t know you’d been having a dream about your mother,” their father said.
“Just about every night since she died,” Sudie said.
“Well, where have I been?”
“Away,” Sudie said. “You’ve been away.” She looked at the headstone for a second. “But it’s all right,” she said, taking Grover’s hand. “My brother’s been here the whole time.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am deeply indebted to Abigail DeWitt, a fine writer and critic, who read several drafts and who believed in Grover as his story emerged. Sam Hodges, who has been a dear friend and writer colleague since our freshman year at Furman University, gave crucial suggestions as I revised. And Kathy Sheldon, with her heat-seeking literary vision, helped me see the book it could become.
I knew I was onto something when my agent, Neeti Madan at Sterling Lord Literistic, told me she missed her subway stop while reading the manuscript, and I’m forever grateful that she found Grover such a wonderful home. My editor, Regina Griffin, has been nothing but a joy to work with, and I cannot thank her and the attentive staff at Egmont USA enough for insisting What I Came to Tell You become its own best self.