by Joyce Magnin
"It's not like that. I just like to fly. Have you ever been up in a plane, Gilda?"
She sputtered and said, "No. I mean not a small plane. Not like what that pilot's got parked out there."
"Oh, so you've seen it."
She smiled and dragged the straw through her lips. "Everyone has. It's a bit of a curiosity, now ain't it?"
"Maybe. But I got to say that being high in the sky with Cliff, flying over the town that day, was one of the greatest experiences of my life."
This time Zeb coughed, but I ignored it. I was, after all, trying my hand at being a junior detective.
But before I could do anymore investigating to see if Gilda had anything to do with Cliff, if they had a relationship of some kind, Gilda excused herself. "I better be going. Don't want to leave my dear sweet Walter alone too long."
Zeb came lickety split from the kitchen. "Here," he said handing Gilda something wrapped in white butcher paper. "An extra baloney sandwich in case you get hungry at the nursing home."
"Why thank you, Sweetie," she said. She stuffed it into her purse and then stood on tippy toes and kissed Zeb's cheek.
"Ah, that's no trouble," he said. She paid her bill and then sashayed out the door with Zeb watching the whole time.
"She's not that pretty," I said.
Zeb returned his attention to me. "Ah Grizzy, she doesn't mean nothing to me. I'm only being neighborly. You're my best girl. I thought we established that."
"Then why do you look at her the way you do? Why do your eyes follow her every time she walks out that door?"
Studebaker Kowalski who had been sitting in a booth chimed in, "Because he's a man, Griselda. He can't help it."
19
I frankly didn't know what I was supposed to do with my newfound suspicions about Cliff and Gilda. And by Saturday I found that I was imagining all sorts of things. I decided to tell Agnes. I could trust her.
So after closing up the library early I headed over to Greenbrier by way of Hector's Hill. I saw Cliff near Matilda. I stopped and pulled close to the curb debating if I should go talk to him or not. Maybe twist more information out of him. But before I could make up my mind he saw me and waved and then called, "Griselda, hey."
I waved back as he motioned me to join him. I did, even though every cell in my body was against it.
"Hi Cliff," I said. "I haven't seen you in a few days."
"Yeah, I've been busy working on Matilda and had some errands in Wilkes-Barre."
"Did you fly there?"
"Nah, Nate lent me his truck. Say listen, I was just about to take her up for a spin. Want to go?"
My heart sped as the excitement grew to fly again. I couldn't resist. "Sure. Right now?"
"Why not?"
"Well I was on my way to the nursing home and—"
"Ah, too bad I can't land anywhere nearby or I'd fly you there."
I laughed. "That would be a riot. I can just see the commotion that would cause at the home. Give those people quite a start."
"Ah, it'd be good for their hearts, get them pumping again."
"Well, we can't so—"
"OK, just a quick spin and then right back."
I climbed into the plane and it was like climbing into my own little cocoon. It was immediately comfortable as I locked the seatbelt and settled back in the seat. Within minutes we were airborne and that wonderful rush of freedom hit me again.
"Want to fly her?" Cliff asked over the noise.
"What?" I pointed to my ear.
"Fly." He raised his voice. "Want to fly her?"
I pointed to my chest. "Me?"
"He nodded."
"I don't know. I don't know how. What do I do?"
Cliff gave me a couple of instructions and then said, "Now I'm going to let go of the stick. You just hold her steady and watch your attitude, keep her straight. I felt Cliff release control of the plane, and as I took the yolk, I felt Matilda's power, power that surged through me.
"Good job," Cliff said. "Now pull up on the stick, just a little."
For five minutes I flew Matilda. It was glorious. It was like I was made to fly and just didn't know it all these years. I remembered watching jets pass over occasionally as a child, and smaller planes, crop dusters mostly, making their journeys, and the thought always intrigued me but I never thought for one second that I would ever actually fly in the sky, two thousand feet above the ground like a bird.
"Bet this is the first time a sparrow ever flew this high," Cliff said.
I smiled. He was right and I had just settled back in a comfortable position when the mountains came up quickly and suddenly. "Oh, my goodness, Cliff! The mountains!"
"Don't worry, they're close but not too close."
"Maybe you should take her."
"Darned if you don't even sound like a pilot. Now release the stick."
The plane banked to the right and then straightened out as Cliff turned toward Hector's Hill. He landed Matilda smoothly.
"I don't know if I'll ever be able to do that," I said.
"What? Land? Sure you will. It's all in the feelings. Learning to fly is like developing a whole new set of senses."
The feelings that emerged at that moment were almost too much to bear. "I got to go, Cliff. I'm late." I jumped out of the plane and ran back to my truck, hopped inside, and cried. I was in love. Not with Cliff or Zeb but with freedom, and I wanted more only Bright's Pond still held me in her grasp like a kite. Able to fly but only so far as the string would go.
I did eventually make it to the nursing home that day. Agnes was in her chair and looked much better than the last time I saw her. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright blue. She wore a muumuu the color of a sunflower and white slippers I had never seen before.
"Where'd you get those?" I asked.
"What?"
"The slippers."
Agnes tried to look down. "Oh, I don't know, probably issued by the home. They just put them on me this morning. I don't get much say in what I wear."
"What's wrong with your pink ones? If you want to wear your pink ones then you should wear your pink ones."
"It doesn't matter," Agnes said. "I don't care what color slippers I wear. Why's it so important to you?"
"I don't know. I've just been thinking about freedom lately. You should be able to wear whatever color you want."
Agnes looked at me like she didn't know what to say. She breathed and let it go through her nose.
"I don't know," I said. "It's just weird that someone else is making those kinds of decisions for you."
"I really don't mind unless . . . unless you're feeling jealous because you used to make those choices. You bought the pink slippers, remember?"
I did. I remembered it well. She rejected them at first and now someone else comes along and makes a new choice and she doesn't care. "Yes, maybe that's it. In which case I am being silly."
"Come on," Agnes said. "Sit down. Let's have a proper visit."
"Do you remember the other night when Ruth and I came to visit, after the asthma attack—how you feeling by the way?"
"Better. Much better. That nice young doctor is taking good care of me."
"That's nice. He does seem nice and caring. But anyway, about the other night, Ruth wanted to stop and see Walter."
"Walter?"
"Curiosity I guess. She never saw a man in a coma before."
Agnes nodded. "That sounds like Ruth."
"We went to his room and the door was opened a little bit like it usually is. The lights were dim so I didn't go in right away, thinking maybe it was too late when I heard a voice."
"A voice?"
"Yeah." I looked out her window and pondered my next words. Should I really say anything? What if Mildred found out? What if Agnes told someone?
"I heard Gilda talking on the phone about the money and stuff. I think she's some kind of crook, Agnes. Like she's after the treasure not Walter."
"No kidding? Geez, I hope you're wrong. I kno
w she's a little strange, but it's hard to imagine anyone not acting strange under the circumstances."
"But she does seem focused more on the treasure than her fiancé."
"Um, that's not good. A woman shouldn't care all that much about some silly buried treasure when her future husband is lying in a bed unconscious."
"That's why Mildred is investigating."
"Investigating? Goodness gracious, Griselda, you people are making a federal case out of what is most likely a—what does Mildred say?—a trip for biscuits, nothing."
"Probably, but it does seem suspicious, and Mildred never trusted Gilda from the beginning. Neither did other folks in town. And I'm afraid it's all starting to rub off on me."
Agnes refused to get on board with what I was saying. She continued to assert that Walter was guilty of no crimes and neither was Gilda. "Does Stella know about it?"
"No. Mildred said not to tell her in case she says something to Cliff and it spooks him, just in case he's involved somehow."
"Spooks him. What? And then he'll run away like a frightened bunny and the big bad crime will never happen?"
"It does seem silly now, doesn't it? But still, I am not saying anything until Mildred says I can. Just my luck I'd foil the whole caper."
"Oh, for goodness sake, now you're starting to talk like some hard-boiled detective novel."
"It's kind of fun, as much as I hate to admit it."
"The best thing for you to do is forget about it. Go back to Zeb and the library, let Mildred handle whatever supposed crime there might be. Don't give it anymore thought. Remember what Daddy always used to say?"
We said it together, "Never trouble trouble until trouble troubles you."
"I feel better now, Agnes. I guess I was getting all worked up over nothing, and guess what."
Just then the door swung open wide and an aide came in with Agnes's lunch. She placed it on Agnes's tray table. "Here you go Agnes. Tuna salad today."
"Oh, that's good," I said. "You like tuna."
"They don't make it the way you did. And," she lifted the lid from the plate, "they plop it on lettuce. No bread. Lettuce. Rabbit food."
"But look, you get apple slices and pudding."
"Yeah, the pudding is good. Now what were you saying—guess what?"
"Oh, right. I flew. In Cliff's plane again and this time he let me take the yolk—that's like a steering wheel only it's a stick and you move it up and down."
"The dickens you say! You flew? Not really though, he just let you pretend."
I shook my head and then picked at her tuna. She was right. It wasn't as good as mine. "No, he released control from his side and transferred it to me. I was actually flying. Only a few minutes but still."
"That's pretty exciting."
"I want to fly more. He said he'd give me lessons."
"So what's stopping you?"
"You mean you wouldn't mind?"
"Me? Why should I mind?"
"Well back home you got scared if I went to the movies."
"Ah, that's only because you left me alone. I didn't like being alone. But here, well there is always somebody here."
And so for the first time I believed Agnes had released a little more string.
Before I left Greenbrier I wandered to Walter's room. Once again I stopped at the door and listened. Then I peeked inside without opening the door any wider than it already was. Gilda stood at Walter's bedside with the phone in her hand.
"I can't keep doing this," I heard her say. "I can't keep coming here waiting for the big lug to wake up. He ain't never coming out of it. And we ain't never getting that money."
20
My heart stopped. I fought the urge to push open the door and confront her but Mildred's words to be careful filled my mind. In that moment I couldn't do anything. I wanted to stay and listen longer but I didn't. I rushed away, down the hall, out the doors, and to my truck.
Mildred would probably be in her little office. That's where I needed to go. Straight to the police. I never made it. Stella stopped me at the town hall steps.
"Griselda," she called.
I waited until she got closer.
"I can't talk now, Stella I need to see Mildred about—" I couldn't tell her.
"What? Why you so nervous?"
"Oh, I'm not. I might be a little tired. Been running around all day. I need to get the dance tickets for Sunday. She never stopped by my house like she was supposed to."
"Well she ain't in there. I just saw her driving down the street toward your place."
I stepped back. "Oh, maybe she's bringing me the tickets."
"Listen," Stella said. "I wanted to ask you if you'd take me over to Greenbrier. I want to see Walter."
I wanted to see Mildred but I couldn't turn Stella down. It was hard enough getting her to go in the first place, and I didn't want to make her suspicious of anything.
"I just came from there. I went to visit with Agnes a little while. I poked my head in Walter's room before I left. Gilda is there."
"She is? Well, I guess I better get used to her. She is going to be my sister-in-law someday I reckon."
My heart ached to tell her what I knew. What I heard Gilda say, but I couldn't. Not yet. Not until Mildred had proof and we had a plan. The last thing I wanted to do was put Stella in any kind of danger.
"Did you want to go right now?"
"If that's OK. I need to get out of the house anyway."
"Is Nate still a bear?"
"When isn't he? When I left he was spraying her with milk again. I couldn't take it anymore so I left."
"OK, why don't we just go then?"
"You want to stop home first?" Stella asked. "See if Mildred brought the tickets?"
"No, that's OK. She'll leave them on the porch, and I probably left the door open anyway."
"OK, then let's go."
The ride to Greenbrier was quiet. My mind was so chock full of thoughts I could barely contain it.
"Are you OK?" Stella asked. "You seem awfully distracted."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I might be a little what with the dance and all."
"That's coming up isn't it?"
"Two weeks."
"Nate has the mock saloon all built. He made it so you just have to unfold it and attach some latches. He's a genius when it comes to this sort of stuff."
"I can't wait to see it. You are coming right?"
"Yeah, we'll be there. I even picked out what I'm wearing. I might look a little like Annie Oakley."
"Ha, that will be fun. I still need to find something to wear. I hate getting dressed up in costumes."
I could feel Stella staring at me until she finally said, "I think you should dress up like one of them old-timey western school marms. You now they were kind of plain Jane and quiet. Like one of them women straight out of a Jimmy Stewart western."
"You think I'm plain and quiet."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it as an insult. You're just so bookish, and being the librarian and all, I thought it would fit."
She was probably right. I was not overly fashion conscious or vivacious. And I did not like to talk about it so I changed the subject. "I flew with Cliff again today. This time he let me actually fly the plane."
"No fooling? You mean you actually took the controls and didn't crash or nothing?"
"I'm still here."
"That's true. Did you like it, I mean it's not like driving a truck is it?"
"No, it was very different. Weird and scary at first but then I started to love it. I actually loved it."
I could feel Stella looking at me.
"I don't think I could ever find the nerve to go up in that little plane. It doesn't even look all that safe. But then again, I never learned to drive for the same reason. Too scared and nervous."
"Have you ever asked Nate to teach you?"
"To drive? He tried. He thought I should know on account of the farm. Sometimes he needed me to drive a truck or tractor but I don't know. There is j
ust something too scary about having all that power, controlling all that weight."
I pulled into the driveway and parked as close to the doors as I could. We both noticed an ambulance out front and a small crowd of residents.
"I wonder what happened," Stella said.
"I don't know." My heart went a little wonky. I guessed that sight would always make we worry that it was Agnes.
We walked closer in time to see them carry someone out. She was old and covered with a blanket.
"She's alive," Stella said. "Otherwise they'd cover her up all the way."
"Heart attack," I overheard Claude tell someone else.
I moved closer to him.
"Oh, hey Griselda," Claude called. "Back already?"
"Hi, I brought Stella to visit Walter. Will that woman be all right?"
Claude shook his head. "Don't rightly know. She took a pretty big one. And she's old, older than old. She just had her ninety-seventh birthday a week or so ago."
"Wow," was all I could say. "I'll say a prayer."
"Maybe you should ask Agnes," Stella said.
"Oh, I'm sure she already knows," I said. "News travels like wildfire in here. And I already saw her today. We can go right to Walter's room."
As usual I stopped outside the door and listened. I always worried I'd be walking in on something. Now more than ever.
"Go on," Stella said. "It ain't like he's getting dressed."
"I know. You go first."
Stella pushed open the door. Walter was alone. The lights were dim and the only sound was the woosh pop of the breathing machine. He looked exactly the same as he had the last time I saw him. Nothing changed in spite of what Gilda had said earlier that week.
Stella stood near his head. "What do I do?"
I shrugged. "Guess you just talk to him."
She stood there, almost like she was in her own coma. Then she brushed his hair back in a gesture of love. "You creep. You stinking creep." Her voice rose a bit. "You no-good, stinking creep of a brother. You think you can come back into my life after all these years, after what you did to me and Mama. Well I don't think so. And you can't even come back in one piece; no you have to be off looking for buried treasure that probably doesn't even exist. Looking for money. It's all about money for you, Walter. And now what am I supposed to do? Feel sorry for you?"