by Leatha Marie
I went to find Suzy. She was in the front room looking at all the Get Well cards that had come to Aunt Dianne. There were so many cards in all the rooms of the house. Suzy had tears on her face. I grabbed her hand in both of my hands and just held on.
Papa said Aunt Dianne was a good person, and we weren’t the only people that loved her. I could tell that was true by the cards. Suzy and I walked around the house and looked at all of them. We counted them in groups of ones with flowers, ones with shimmer, and those that were just plain. But they all were pretty and said such sweet things.
“All these cards did nothing. My momma is not going to get well,” Suzy whispered as more tears spilled down her face.
Throughout the day, Aunt Dianne lay in her bed. She was sleeping mostly but waking enough to notice the people visiting and talking to her. She smiled with her eyes because I think it took too much effort to do it with her mouth and face. But we knew she was smiling. She would bow her head a little to thank us—for coming to visit, for getting a cup of ice chips for her, or anything else people did for her.
We all knew she was the one that deserved the thanks. Aunt Dianne was Momma’s older sister and had given us so much. We lived with her and Uncle Joe when Papa lost his job and we didn’t have a house. Even when we moved to our own house, Aunt Dianne would come with her arms full of vegetables and bread. I think she was afraid we might starve.
It turns out my papa is a good cook. I never knew that. Unless Momma was sick, she did all the cooking and cleaning up. She said, “Your papa works hard every day. When he comes home, he rests and I cook. That is just the way we worked things out.”
The first night we were at Aunt Dianne’s, Papa announced, “Tonight it will be a meal of tradition— turkey, gravy, dressing, green beans, and carrots. A ‘thanks giving’ meal!” Later Momma told us that the reason he cooked turkey was because it fell out of the freezer on his feet one too many times.
Many people had visited during the day, but tonight was quiet. It was just the four of us at the table for dinner. As I looked around the table, I thought about my momma and papa helping Aunt Dianne go to heaven.
Watching them made me feel happy sad. Happy that Aunt Dianne was getting such love and help for the pain and sad for Suzy losing her momma. Because no matter how good it might be for your momma to pass on, it has got to be horrible for a child. We talked of many things except what was happening. It was like the fact that Aunt Dianne was dying was in every corner of the room and the house, but we didn’t want to notice.
Not many people in the house slept that night. Suzy and I were sharing a bed, and we could not fall asleep. We decided to talk about all the kids at school to keep our mind off the sad subject. We went down the list of who sat at each desk and what they were like—who their family was, whether they were nice or smart or just plain mean. We fell asleep as the early morning sunlight was coming in the room.
Later, Suzy woke with a jolt and ran to her momma’s bedroom. I was close behind. My momma greeted us at the door of Aunt Dianne’s room, “Well, good morning, girls! It is a good morning! Suzy, your momma is ready for her morning hug and reading from your favorite book.”
“I think I will read from her favorite book, if that is okay. Momma, would you like me to read to you from the Bible?” Suzy asked.
Aunt Dianne’s blue eyes seem to become a brighter blue. The lines at the sides squeezed upward. Even the lines at her mouth turned up. There was that smile. She had a real pretty smile. I went to get some ice chips, just in case, and Suzy began to read. I saw tears coming from my momma’s eyes, but as I heard Suzy reading her momma’s favorite book, I couldn’t help but feel a little happy.
On Sunday, more people came to see Aunt Dianne and bring food for all of us to eat. They brought flowers from their gardens too. Suzy and I stayed outside most of the day because, as Suzy said, “People are all crying.”
Later in the day when the crowds left, Papa called Suzy and me into Aunt Dianne’s bedroom. Mama was standing by the bed holding Aunt Dianne’s hand. Aunt Dianne was sleeping. I could hear her breathing. It was louder than Momma’s breathing. Rather than the almost silent sound that breath usually makes, I could hear rattling like paper being crumpled then opened out smooth and crumpled again.
My papa bent down close to Suzy, put one hand on the bed and lightly patted the space beside Suzy’s momma. With a slight smile, Papa said, “Suzy, come sit on your momma’s bed.” After Suzy crawled up, she grabbed her momma’s soft, wrinkly hand.
My papa continued, “Your momma is a good and smart woman, Suzy. She knew this was coming. She made all the arrangements so nobody needed to worry. She told us to tell you about the arrangements when she neared the end. I think that time is now.”
He put a box on the bed beside the two of them. Suzy and I had seen that box before. The words HAV-A-TAMPA were on the outside and inside the lid there was a picture of a pretty lady in a blue dress. We often went to the box to admire that lady with the dark brown hair. One time her momma caught us looking in it. Aunt Dianne scolded us. She said, “You girls stay out of that. It has important papers inside.”
Papa opened the box and said, “Suzy, in this box are papers with signatures for all the arrangements your momma has made. We can go through them together later, but we want to tell you about one of the papers now.”
He handed her an envelope. Suzy opened it to find an official lawyer-type paper. She just stared at it, confused. Then asked, “What does it mean, Uncle George?”
Papa placed his large hand on Suzy’s shoulder and said, “This letter says when your momma has gone to be with God, you will come live with us. We could use your goodness in our house, Suzy, and Marie could use her best friend around all the time. What do you think?”
Suzy turned to her mother who was asleep. She flung herself down by her momma and put her arms around her and cried out, “Oh, Momma, thank you. I am scared to be without you. But I know God needs you. Maybe now I can bear it. You thought of everything. I love you so much!”
My momma quietly ushered Papa and me from the room. Her arm was hugging him close as they walked. She whispered to him, “You are the best husband anyone could have.” Suzy stayed there crying for a long time. When the crying got quiet, I peeked in and saw she had fallen asleep on her momma’s chest. There were no more noises in the room except Suzy’s even sleeping breath. I stood close to the doorway for a few moments listening and watching this amazing moment.
My heart hurt for Suzy but at the same time there was a spark of gladness. Suzy was coming to live with us! That was the best thing ever. I always wanted a sister or brother. Suzy knew me better than anyone and still liked me. I don’t think sisters always do that. This was a very sad happy day.
JULY 1941
Ethel
Marie’s Father
Marie was a teenager when I told her about her “real” father. It was the summer I broke my foot. Since I could not walk, I needed her help with the duties of the house and farm. Marie was now my temporary caregiver. A reversal of roles for parent and child. We spent lots of time talking about a life full of happiness and hardship. The days became weeks. It seemed we might run out of things to talk about. I decided it was a good time to tell my daughter about her father. This is a story about what love could and could not be.
FRANK POLLARD WAS MY FIRST beau. He meant the world to me. We grew up together and became best friends. I remember Frank used to tell people that the Pollard and Nash kids were like family. We fuss over each other and make sure nobody messes with us. Frank and I hung out as much as we could the summer of 1927. He was interesting to talk to, treated me like someone who mattered, and he was funny. I like a person that sees things in a funny way instead of being angry about everything. But with all that, our families were different.
The first time he came to church with me was going to be a big day. We planned it all out. We decided it was time to let people know we were serious about being together.
Frank asked his parents if he could drive the car to the Methodist Church. The way Frank told me was that his father cared about the car and his mother cared about appearances. His father said to Frank, “You better take care of my car. Not one scratch on it! And if it comes back dirty, you will have to wash it.”
His mother had other worries. “We go to church as a family. You can’t miss church on Sunday,” she said. According to Frank she was raising her voice.
Frank said he was less then truthful about why he wanted to go to the Methodist Church. He figured his real reason would not set right with his mother. Frank told them that he knew a few families that might be able to help them with the farming and that meeting them at church would give him a chance to talk to them. He said his mother protested and said, “Can’t you go after church? Most people stay around to talk after the services.”
Frank said he told her that would not work because the farmers usually get right back to their houses. Then to appease her, he said, “We will all be at the Baptist Church on Wednesday night. Nobody will miss me for one service.” Frank said his father defended his idea and said, “Let him go, Mother. It could be good for the business.”
Evidently Mrs. Pollard was not happy about that. Frank said his momma’s face turned red, and she blurted out, “Business! That is all you men think about.” Frank said his father gave her a stern look and she conceded. Frank laughed and said his mother’s next words were, “Okay, go along. But you dress nice! You are representing the Pollard family over there. I want to make sure they know we care about how we show up.”
Frank pulled the car in my front yard the next Sunday. I was standing at the window waiting for him, ready to go. We couldn’t be late. I began to calm down when he gave me a big smile. That boy had a pretty smile. Perfect teeth and deep blue eyes that smiled when his mouth did.
When Frank walked up to the front door, my heart beat faster. My palms got sweaty. That happened most times I was around him. I stopped at the hall mirror as I went to the door. I smoothed down my hair, pulled at my dress, and grabbed our lunch basket. I wanted to look good for him and all those people that would be looking at us at church.
As he reached the door and started to knock, I flung it open. He jumped and said, “Dang, E, you scared me!” His eyes never left me and then he said, “Gee whiz, you look nice.”
I had already checked him out as he was walking to the door. “You clean up nice too, Frank,” I said. I don’t think I had ever seen him dressed up before that day. He had on a brown suit. It had darker brown lapels. He wore a white shirt and shoes shined so much the dust just passed over them. I can see him plain as if it was yesterday . . .
Frank said, “This is my funeral suit. Father bought it for me last winter for grandma’s funeral. It’s already getting too tight, but I thought it would make an impression at church. Maybe they would think you found a real man.”
As we walked to the car I said, “When we are at church, call me Ethel. E is the name just between me and you.”
“Sure, Eth – el,” he said in a way that el dragged out, making me laugh.
He walked over to my side of the car, and I gave him a what-are-you-doing look. “A man is supposed to open the car door for his lady,” he said as he bowed.
He took the lunch basket from my hand. I looked over at him, gave him a little scowl, and said, “Okay then, but you know I can open my own door!”
“Yes, ma’am, I know you can. You can open any door you want! But today, let me do it for you.” He put the basket in the back seat.
Frank could hardly see over the steering wheel, and it made me snicker. “Be careful driving, little man,” I said. “We need to get there in one piece.” He sat up straight, started the car, and we rolled out smoothly.
When we arrived at church, my sisters Dianne, Annie, and Caroline were outside waiting. They knew Frank was coming today and that he would bring his father’s car. Momma was in the church with everyone else. Dianne walked over to the car. Annie ran toward us like she was running a race. Frank was hardly out of the car before Annie ran up to him and gave him a big hug. “Golly, Frankie, you look pretty!” she said, looking at him with those big-as-the-moon eyes of hers.
“I don’t look pretty, I’m just dressed up. This is my Sunday-go-to-meeting suit. Do you like it?” Frank replied.
“Yes, siree,” Annie said. “Momma is going to like it too!”
Dianne looked over at me and smiled. Then she admired Frank and said, “You sure do look good, Mr. Pollard!”
Frank grinned, nodded his head, and walked over to open my car door. I let him do it without a word.
I hoped Caroline would also approve, but she rarely had anything nice to say.
“What are you trying to prove? That you are rich and better than us?” Caroline sneered at Frank and me like I had broken her favorite keepsake.
Dianne was the oldest and she acted like she was the mom when we were away from the house. She set Caroline straight by saying, “Caroline, there is nothing to prove. Frank and Ethel are just trying to make a good impression. This is the first time Frank has come to our church.” And using words that Momma used on all of us, she added, “If you can’t think of anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
Caroline turned her face to the sky and stomped off to the church.
Frank reached for my hand and Annie grabbed his other one. Then we all walked into the church together. I smiled at the picture of us. I was ready to show him off, no matter what people said.
As always, I walked up to the family pew. Momma slid way down the bench to fit in the four sisters and Frank. She grinned at me like she does when I’ve made her proud.
I remember the sermon word for word. It was an important day.
Preacher Thomas spoke about sin, as he always did. Every week he would spin sin into a story. Today he talked about how hard work—on the farms, in the fields, or in a business—was one way to fight the temptations of sinful behavior. “A man who stays busy raising food from the earth to feed the community is closer to God. He is using God’s land for sustenance and to share,” Preacher said. “The man who goes to work in an office, whose work helps others, is also close to God. The woman who supports her man is close to God. This is the way family works. Proverbs 18:22 says, ‘He who finds a wife that is good receives favor from the Lord.’ ”
I could tell Frank was listening because he pushed his shoulder closer to mine when Preacher Thomas said that.
When Preacher Thomas begins to talk his face is kind but serious. His voice is loving and sweet. I knew Annie believed his words, and she would trust whatever he said. We had talked about religion lots of times. She would say, “Preacher Thomas is preaching the word of God. He knows what he is talking about.”
About ten minutes into his sermon, Preacher Thomas began to raise his voice, grip the edges of the pulpit, and lean toward the parishioners. “But do not forget—in the Bible we are also reminded what can happen if a wife is tempted by sin.” Preacher Thomas was shouting by now, and I began squirming in my seat. Preacher Thomas went on, “Proverbs 12:4 says a wife of noble character is her husband’s crown, but a disgraceful wife is like decay in his bones!”
I leaned to Annie and whispered, “Is he talking to you or me?”
Annie whispered back, “You and me are not married yet. I think it is Mrs. Tyler. And you know how much Mrs. Tyler yells at Mr. Tyler—all the time. And I heard she threw a jar of pickles at him for coming home late one time.” Momma gave us the hush-your-mout
h look.
That day was the nicest day. The crabapple trees were beginning to show their fruit and the leaves in the trees were large, making shade where they could. It was warm. Just the kind of day Frank would like a picnic.
I kept thinking, Hurry up, Preacher Thomas. I think I even said it out loud once. I looked at Momma and my sisters to make sure they didn’t hear. Annie and Dianne’s eyes were pointed at the pulpit, like dogs waiting for you to drop a crumb from the table. Caroline was drawing pictures on the church bulletin. Momma was looking down at her hands folded in her lap, deep in thought. She would have smacked me for saying that out loud, so she must not have heard me. But Frank did and grinned at me like he agreed.
I remember wondering what Frank was taking away from this sermon. We had talked about preachers who told a lot of stories just to scare you. We both agreed that there was no point in having a God that said you were evil all the time. We believed in Jesus who was good to all, no matter what.
People would describe the Pollards as snooty, rich, God-fearing people. Well, the snooty part wasn’t true about Frank, and he had to save his pennies just like us. He worked hard on their farm. He read a lot and knew about things I didn’t, but he never made me feel stupid.
One time when we were down by the creek on a hot summer day, I asked him how he knew so much. He said, “I read a lot. I know about things in books. You know more than I do about real life.”
I’ll never forget that. I liked that he thought being different could also mean being equal. He was right. Back then I knew a lot about farming tobacco, managing a house while Momma went to work, and growing a garden.