Griselda Takes Flight

by Joyce Magnin

  Ruth laughed. "Quest. You make it sound sort of bookish, you know? It ain't the gall darn Crusades. It's money stashed in a hiding spot, and a pretty good one to boot. I don't think any of these fellas will find it. They'll be frustrated and bored and hungry in no time."

  The clock struck eight and Studebaker climbed the three makeshift steps onto the bandstand. He looked very dapper in his cowboy duds complete with chaps, black hat, and skinny bolo tie clasped with a silver snake head with glowing emerald eyes. He tapped the microphone several times like he was Dean Martin hosting the Emmy awards. "Attention," he said. "I need everyone's attention. It is now time to kick this hootenanny up a notch." Unfortunately Studebaker's enthusiasm was left with the treasure hunting discussion. He sounded like he was directing mourners into the funeral home. "So you all grab your partner and we'll do-si-do."

  This was not something I was about to do so I slinked off into a corner. Zeb scurried behind a table to serve food, but just about everyone else joined in the dance. One of the Barley Boys came down on the floor and helped people get into position forming six squares of four people. From where I was standing in the shadows I could see that just about everyone was confused and trying to figure out what they were supposed to be doing. Boris Lender, who had some square dancing experience, helped get things organized while the Boys played something that sounded like Turkey in the Straw to me.

  After a few minutes they were set to go. I believe it was the Virginia Reel.

  Everybody, forward and back,

  Once more, forward and back.

  Once around with the right elbow.

  Two-hand swing and around you go.

  Head couple sashay down,

  And sashay back.

  Head couple, the elbow reel.

  A right to the middle and a left on the side,

  A right to the middle and a reel on down.

  Now meet in the middle and a sashay back.

  Cast off and down you go.

  Now raise that arch and raise it high,

  Duck through and away you fly.

  Of course, it was a mess with people moving left and right and around in circles not really knowing which way to go. It was all pretty comical, but the Barley Boys kept right on playing and calling the dance while Ruth and Studebaker argued over who was the head couple and what it meant to sashay down.

  Cliff joined in the dance for a few minutes, but he looked relieved when the next group of squares took the floor. He made eye contact with me and headed my way as Zeb watched his every move.

  "Never was much of a square dancer, or dancer of any kind," Cliff said. "I'm much more comfortable standing on the sidelines."

  "Me too," I said. I looked at Zeb. "And Zeb also. I think he'd rather have a cavity filled than dance."

  "So you two are . . . what?" he asked. He put his hand against the wall above me and kind of leaned in close.

  "We're friends," I said. "And I guess you can say we're . . .dating."

  "But nothing serious. Nothing exclusive."

  I looked over at Zeb who had taken up with Gilda once again. I was pretty sure it was his way of making a point, but I was sick of his points and his jealous fits.

  "No," I said. "We're not . . . serious."

  Cliff smiled wide. "Well doggies! How about a plane ride then? I'll take you to dinner in Wilkes-Barre."

  My heart sped either from excitement or sheer nerves, I wasn't sure, but the offer of dinner in a town other than Bright's Pond or Shoops was pretty interesting and one I was sure going to consider.

  "But only after a lesson," I said.

  "How 'bout tomorrow then? after church?"

  "Sounds OK to me. I don't have any plans," I said even though Zeb and I had a kind of standing date on Sunday afternoons.

  He tipped his bandana to me. "I reckon I better mosey on back to the farm and see how Nate is getting along. He was pretty upset over Bertha Ann's third-place showing."

  "I know he is. Tell Stella I was asking about her."

  It would have been a different story if he had a big, blue ribbon to display. I missed not seeing Stella but I also knew that she made the choice she had to make and stayed home to nurse Nate's wounded pride.

  Cliff left through a side door and it took Zeb all of thirty seconds to appear at my side.

  "Why you keep taking up with him?"

  "Me? What's with you and Gilda? I saw you. You were practically swooning over her."

  "Ah, Grizzy, she don't mean nothing. You know that."

  I wished I could have said the same thing to him about Cliff.

  26

  By nine-thirty the adults in the crowd were yawning and the children were running amok as their tired parents chased after them. Most of the folks in Bright's Pond found it difficult to stay up much past ten o'clock so this was not unexpected. Zeb and Ruth and Ivy and me stayed until the end when the Barley Boys packed up. Charlotte Figg collected her pie tins, which she said were very important to her. I understood that. A woman who could make pie like that deserved to be particular about her tins.

  Nothing remained of the food or the pies. Anything left over was spirited away in brown bags, except of course for Darcy Speedwell's, cottage cheese–lime JELL-O delight. It stood on a silver platter, a testament to perseverance, a green monument to Darcy's stick-to-it-tive-ness and unflappable faith that someday, at some church function, someone will eat her food. Nate's spectacular saloon designs and western décor stood behind and gave the place a kind of a ghost-town ambience. A few bits of trash were scattered about but for the most part folks used the cans set out. In fact, the can near the front door had overflowed onto the floor.

  "We'll get the rest of this taken care of tomorrow or Monday," Boris said.

  We bleary-eyed dance goers agreed. Zeb and I walked Ruth and Ivy home in spite of the obvious tension between us.

  "It sure was a nice dance," Ruth said at the curb in front of her house. "And the SOAP did pretty well, I think."

  "I should think so at three dollars a head," Ivy said.

  Zeb and I went back to my house where we sat on the red sofa and talked quietly. But every time I thought I was getting through to him he'd say something else to set me off.

  "I told you I'd pay for lessons, just not from him."

  "But I like to fly and he is the only pilot in town and I refuse to believe he's a crook. Besides, Mildred suggested that I stay close to him, find out what I can. As a matter of fact, we're going up after church tomorrow. He's giving me another lesson."

  By eleven o'clock I was yawning pretty regularly and Zeb took the hint. I walked him to the porch and he kissed me good night.

  "I'm not liking him in the way you think," I said even though I wasn't 100 percent convinced myself.

  Zeb twisted his mouth. "I guess I know that, Grizzy. It's just hard to see you with another man."

  Sunday came suddenly. I must have slept like a rock because I barely remember letting my head hit the pillow. Those who came to church straggled in still talking about the success of the Harvest Dance. It took a while, but Pastor Speedwell finally managed to get folks to quiet down and pay attention to him.

  "Good morning," he said. "Now I know you're all tired from last night's festivities but this is the Lord's Day and we're here to celebrate that fact."

  Sheila Spiney let go on the organ with "O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing" and we all joined in. I have to say that the singing still managed to swell to the roof and fill the room like it always did.

  Edie and Bill Tompkins sat in front of me, and they sounded in good voice. Studebaker was his usual cheery self as he passed the offering plate later in the service although I did notice a bit of straw from the dance decorations still stuck in his hair and he was wearing his rhinestone studded boots.

  "Poor guy probably rolled right out of bed straight to church without combing his hair or shaving," I said.

  Zeb agreed. "Probably up the rest of the night going over a map trying to figure out wher
e that supposed treasure is buried."

  Bill turned around. "I bet I can find it."

  Edie tapped Bill's shoulder and lifted her finger to her lips telling him to shhhh.

  After the special music from Babette Sturgis who had a voice like an angel, Pastor Speedwell stood for the sermon.

  "Today's text if you like to read along is taken from Matthew the sixth chapter, verses nineteen through twenty-one. 'Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.' "

  A collective gasp filtered through the auditorium as folks looked at each other. Some smiled. Edie's hand flew up to her mouth and she started to practically beat Bill's arm. I watched Studebaker's eyes grow wide, and Boris started to look around the room. Nearly everyone squirmed and wiggled, and hushed whispers swirled in the air.

  Pastor Speedwell realized he had touched a nerve, trouble was he didn't know why. So as he spoke his voice rose to an almost fevered pitch, thinking perhaps that the Holy Spirit was moving among his flock. I could see impatience growing in the congregation the longer he talked. Bill looked at his watch about a dozen times.

  "They can hardly wait," Zeb whispered.

  "You don't suppose—"

  "I do," Zeb said. "They're planning something. All of them."

  Even as Pastor prayed folks wiggled and squirmed and spoke among themselves. I heard the woman behind me make arrangements with someone to watch her children after the service.

  "I'm sure Harriet Nurse will look after my Maggie, Moe, and Harry," she said.

  At least they waited until after the benediction. But only a second because I would say that nearly ninety percent of them leaped out their seats and took off for the doors like someone had just yelled FIRE!

  "They're going after the treasure," Zeb said.

  "I don't believe it."

  Zeb grabbed my arm. "Come on."

  "Where?"

  "Treasure hunting."

  I yanked my arm back. "No. I don't want to go. It's ridiculous. I have plans to go flying with Cliff."

  Zeb averted his eyes a moment. "Fine. Go on. Be with your real boyfriend. But don't forget that even he said it was a good idea to go looking for it. And what if, Grizzy? What if I find it? No more troubles."

  "I don't have troubles that money can fix, Zeb."

  "Come on, I'll by you an airplane. Heck, I'll buy you a whole entire airport."

  "You go ahead."

  I sat back down and watched a stunned Pastor Speedwell, who had not taken his usual place in the front of the church to shake hands, speak quietly to his wife, Darcy. Then he looked at me, one of the few left. Even Ruth and Ivy had gone.

  "Do you know what just happened, Griselda?"

  Sheila Spiney continued to play her version of "Amazing Grace."

  "Treasure hunting," I said. "They all went after the treasure that's supposed to be buried out near the old Sakolas Quarry."

  Pastor shook his head. "My sermon did not get through."

  "Oh, it got through," I said. "They took it as a sign, a sign from God to go looking."

  "Oh, dear," Darcy said.

  "Sorry, Pastor. They'll be back," I said.

  He hung his head. "I fear that I've failed. I failed my flock."

  Darcy patted his arm. "Come on, dear. Let's go home."

  I headed for the door and that was when I noticed Cliff sitting in the back. "You still here," I said. "Why aren't you going out treasure hunting?"

  He laughed. "Like the Pastor said, I already got the most important treasure. Inside." He pointed to his heart and I immediately knew that no one had Cliff to fear.

  "Besides," he said. "We're going flying."

  After stopping at home to check on Arthur and change clothes I met Cliff at Hector's Hill. He was making the check of the plane. He walked around Matilda and examined her from top to bottom making certain the prop was secured, he moved the flaps up and down, looked at every nut and bolt on the outside of the plane then checked the oil and, last, he sumped the gas. He put a long glass tube into the fuel tank and then checked the color of the extracted gasoline.

  "All set," he said.

  He opened the door and in I went. I buckled my belt and looked at all the instruments. I wanted to know what every one meant. The thing about Cliff's airplane was that nothing was wasted. Every inch of space was used to it fullest. I liked that notion.

  We took off and I felt the now familiar sensation of liftoff as the plane climbed until Cliff leveled her off at one thousand feet.

  "Not quite a mile," he said. "But that will do fine. Now take the controls."

  I took a deep breath and wrapped my hand around the yoke and felt Cliff release the plane to me. I checked the horizon indicator and kept Matilda steady.

  "Great," he said. "You sure you don't have a license already?"

  "Nope. But . . . but I got to say it sure feels right."

  "I can't help thinking of that verse about soaring on eagles' wings," Cliff said. "Some of us get to do that in a real way."

  I glanced over at him but not for long before my eyes went back to the instruments. Cliff made me smile.

  "OK, now," he said, "let's take her a bit higher and head for the mountain."

  "Mountain? I don't think I'm ready to fly over the mountain."

  "No, no, we won't try that. Just head for it."

  A few minutes later we were flying over the old abandoned mine near Sakolas Quarry. He knew all along exactly where we were headed, and I will admit that I felt a pang in my chest. I felt like a spy of sorts, even though I wanted to find Zeb.

  "Look down," he said. "Do you see them?"

  "The treasure hunters?" I could easily make out the folks of Bright's Pond scurrying around like groundhogs digging holes everywhere they could.

  "They are really looking for the treasure," I said. "I can't believe it."

  "Ah, let them have their fun. They won't find it. I did some checking and that treasure hasn't been found in over eighty years. Leastways no one admitted to it. It's probably been found and the money spent by now."

  The plane jerked slightly and I felt a tug on the stick.

  "It's OK, you're doing fine, but let me take over."

  I was relieved and frustrated. I wanted to keep flying. For the first time in my life I felt like I was doing something for me. Learning something new. Something that made sense. Flying made sense to me even though Zeb and Ruth thought it was silly.

  "Griselda," Cliff said after a few minutes of silence. "I know you all don't trust me. I know Mildred learned about my past. But, you need to know something."

  "What's that?" I said as the nerves began to build again.

  "It's not me you should be worried about. I just needed a fuel line when I came here."

  "Then who?"

  Cliff adjusted some dials and tapped on the fuel indicator. "Oh crud," he said.

  "What? What's wrong?" I said.

  "We're losing fuel—fast. I better set her down."

  Although I knew it would do me absolutely no good I grabbed onto the door. "I think I just saw baby pictures of myself whiz by."

  Cliff laughed. "We won't crash. Don't worry."

  27

  Cliff landed the plane smoothly. "I better check this." He shut down the engine and jumped out right away.

  I unbuckled my belt and followed him to the front of the plane. He had the hood, for lack of a better word, opened.

  "Yep," he said. "It's the fuel line. I guess I should have seen that coming. It's an easy fix. Nate probably has something in his barn that will take care of it until I get back to Wilkes-Barre."

  "Are you leaving?" I said, suddenly feeling a sense of loss wash over my body.

  "Probably. I have to make a living."

  "I thought you did plane stuff."
<
br />   "I do. Deliveries and such. And that's the trouble. I haven't delivered anybody or anything in a while. I'm running out of dough."

  I nodded my head and remembered what he said in the plane just before the trouble. "What were you saying in the plane? About worrying about someone?"

  He wiped his hands on a rag. "Ah, I'm just talking. It's probably nothing. I shouldn't have said anything. I don't know for sure. Not real sure."

  "So tell me anyway."

  "No. Look, it's getting to be dinnertime isn't it? Stella usually makes a good Sunday dinner. You got plans?"

  "Oh, I'll catch up with Zeb if he's done playing pirates of Bright's Pond."

  Cliff laughed. "They'll get it out of their system. Unless of course one of them actually finds it, but the likelihood of that happening is pretty close to nil."

  We started to walk back to Old Bess. "I should probably go see Agnes later, too. She'll love to hear about them racing out of church to go treasure hunting."

  I pulled up in front of the Kincaid's. "You know, maybe I'll stop in for a minute. Check on Nate and Stella."

  "Yeah. He's taking it pretty hard. He thought for sure Bertha Ann would win. He's been in there ever since looking through his seeds and reading catalogs and articles."

  "He's obsessed or something. Too bad they didn't have any human babies, you know what I mean?"

  "Yeah. He'd make a good dad."

  "They're still young enough. Well Stella is. She's only forty-one."

  "That's a little old isn't it?"

  "Nah. It could happen. If we can get those two to stop arguing long enough."

  I parked the truck and went inside with Cliff.

  He was correct. Nate sat at the dining room table looking at pumpkin seeds under a bright light and a magnifying glass. He looked a little like a mad scientist. Cliff joined him while I joined Stella in the kitchen.

  "Griselda," she said. "I'm glad you're here. How was the dance? Sorry I missed it but Nate said he needed me to stay home, said he couldn't show his or my face in town yesterday."