Griselda Takes Flight

by Joyce Magnin

  Stella and I looked at each other. I knew we both had the same thought at the same time. If he doesn't remember Stella yet, maybe he won't remember Gilda.

  Walter tried to lie back on the bed. He looked frightened and confused with his eyes darting from one person to another.

  "He needs to rest," the doctor said. "Rest and get his strength back."

  "Can he eat?" Stella asked.

  "Not yet. Just liquids."

  "I want to bring him a big, juicy cheesesteak," Stella said.

  "Oh, not yet a while."

  The doctor held Walter's wrist and then patted his hand. "Good. Now you two can stay and talk to him if you like. Try and jar his memories. Talk about growing up together about—"

  "About the day he cheated his entire family and ran off with all of our mother's life save—" Stella swallowed the rest of her sentence. It seemed she had not found total peace about things.

  "Actually," the doctor said, "sometimes highly emotional things do tend to reawaken certain memories."

  "Nah, I'm sorry," Stella said. "It's just that—"

  Walter coughed, or at least his version of a cough that seemed to get stuck in his throat.

  "Walter," Stella said, "do you remember me now?"

  A tear about the size of an almond dripped down his cheek. Stella swiped it away. "You do, don't you?"

  Walter blinked, and I'm pretty certain he smiled.

  "I guess I changed a bit over the years. Got a little skinnier. Farm work will do that."

  Walter pointed to his head. "Shhh-short."

  Stella let a little chuckle escape her throat. "Oh, yeah, my hair. It used to be so long—down to here." She indicated a spot on the small of her back.

  Walter closed his eyes and leaned into his pillow the way Agnes did when she was tired and didn't want to talk anymore. "Maybe we should let him rest," I said.

  "But he's just starting to—"

  Walter's eyes remained closed like he had fallen asleep.

  "I want to ask him about Gilda."

  With that Walter's eyes sprung open like two window shades.

  "Gilda," he said.

  Yes," Stella said. "She's here"

  "Where?" Walter mouthed.

  Stella shook her head. "Not sure. She's been in and out since you got here a few days ago. You really want to marry her?"

  "I do," Walter said.

  Stella held his hand. "Do you love her?"

  He blinked. "Yeah."

  Stella heaved a great sigh. "OK, Walter. If that's what you want."

  Walter fell asleep with a smile on his face.

  "Come on Stella let's go home. We got some work to do. We have to get the goods on Gilda, and we're gonna need help."

  But before we got outside, the doctor stopped us. "Say, any truth to the rumors that everyone in Bright's Pond is looking for treasure?"

  "Yes. And it's just ridiculous," I said.

  "Oh, I don't know," the doctor said. "I know for a fact that there's truth to the story. My grandfather was one of the men who apprehended the thieves. He said the treasure is out there. Looked for it until the day he died."

  "No kidding," Stella said. "Your grandfather was a lawman?"

  "Now I didn't say that. More like a vigilante. He was one of the miners who never got paid. But Grappy talked about the treasure every single day. Even took me and my sister out there to look for it."

  "That's what Walter was doing," Stella said, "when he got smacked on the head."

  "I know," Doctor Silver said. "But he doesn't remember even being up at the quarry. That whole day is gone. Still, it doesn't seem right that someone else might find it before him."

  I suddenly felt shame for my town. The doctor was right, Gilda was right. It was Walter's treasure.

  "Maybe they won't find it," I said. "Maybe Walter will get back to looking for it."

  "It's going to be a long time before he's ready to go climbing around there, digging holes. Could be best if he never remembers."

  I stopped in to see Agnes before we left.

  "Don't fret. I'll keep my spies on the lookout," she said. "They'll try not to let anything happen until we get this straightened out. But do it soon, Griselda."

  I grabbed Stella's hand. "Come on. I want to find Cliff. He might be able to help us figure this out."

  The first thing Stella did when we got to the truck was break down and sob like a little girl with a stubbed toe. I put my arms around her and let her cry not sure of exactly what brought the tears.

  "How come you're crying?" I asked as I pet the back of her head.

  "I don't know," she said with a sniffle. "I don't know if I'm happy or sad. It's all so much to take in."

  "I know, I know. I felt a little like that when Agnes checked into the nursing home—happy and sad at the same time."

  "That's right. I feel like I'm walking a thin fence between two countries."

  "I can understand that. I really can."

  The first place we went was Hector's Hill. Matilda was there but not Cliff.

  "You really fly this thing?" Stella asked with wide eyes.

  "I do. It's easy, well with Cliff it is. Not sure if I could do it by myself—solo."

  "Sure you can. You can do anything you set your sights on."

  Excitement burbled in my stomach when I looked at the plane. Flying had become more than a passing fancy to me. It had become a desire, a need, something I had to do in order to feel entirely myself.

  "Maybe I'll get my license—someday. Cliff says I'm a natural flyer but speaking of which we have to find Cliff. Maybe he's back at the farm."

  Stella shook her head. "He could be, but Nate went into Shoops earlier this morning. He had some errands to run and bills to pay. That sort of stuff. I know he wasn't planning on much farm work today."

  "Let's check anyway and then go over to the café. Maybe he'll stop in for lunch."

  Cliff was not at the farm. Stella checked through the house while I looked out back.

  "It's weird," I said. "Where could he be? He's been gone a lot lately"

  Stella and I sat in wicker chairs on Stella's porch.

  "Are you OK?" I asked.

  "Yeah, I'm good," she said as she retied her sneaker lace. "I guess what I really want is what's best for Walter, and that could be Gilda. I might have to get used to the idea of having her as my sister-in-law." She shivered for effect. "The thought gives me the willies."

  "Me too. So what do you say we get a move on and find Cliff and whoever else we can find to help us stop this if we have too? Someone has to know the truth about that woman."

  "I don't know, she's slippery—like a greased pig."

  Lunchtime at The Full Moon on a weekday was busy. A lot of truckers parked at the town limit and walked the short distance into town. They said it was worth the hike for a baloney sandwich and a slice of pie, not to mention coffee. Dot Handy made the coffee better than Cora ever did.

  "Do you see him?" Stella asked when we stepped inside.

  "Not yet. Let me talk to Zeb."

  But Dot saw us first. "Griselda," she called. "There's two down there." She nodded toward the empty stools at the end of the counter. "Go on and take them. I'll be right with you."

  "No, that's OK, we're not eating."

  "Not eating? How can you say that? Go on and sit."

  "We were looking for Cliff," I said "Has he been in?"

  "Haven't seen him," Dot said as she refreshed one of the trucker's coffee.

  "Why are you looking for him?" called Zeb from the kitchen.

  "I need to ask him something," I said.

  Zeb stuck his head through the pick-up window. "Anything I can help with?"

  "I can't keep hollering," I said. "Can you come out here?"

  A few seconds later Zeb was at the counter wiping his hands on his apron. "What's up?"

  "Gilda is fixing to marry Walter as soon as she can. She's out looking for a justice of the peace right now. At least I think that's what she'
s doing."

  "But Walter—"

  "I know, I know, but she's getting all prepared so the minute the man can say I do, she will."

  "Well you know, Grizzy, it's none of your business. Not really anyway."

  "But it is mine," Stella said. "He's my brother."

  Zeb shook his head. "It's his life, and what in tarnation does Cliff have to do with all of this?"

  I leaned over the counter and whispered even though I knew Dot Handy had Dumbo ears trained to hear the slightest gossip. "He told me he knew something—about Gilda."

  "Ah, you're all just sore at her. She's OK."

  "I'm telling the truth," I said. "He sounded very sure that he had the goods on her."

  "The goods? Now you sound like Mildred."

  "But it's true, and I for one in all good conscience can't just stand by and let this happen without getting to the bottom of it. I don't want to see Stella get hurt . . . or Walter."

  "Ah, you just don't like her, Grizzy. Now look I need to get back to my scrapple. If I see Cliff I'll tell him you were looking for him."

  "Please," Stella said. "I think I want my family back but even if that don't happen for some reason, I still wouldn't want to see Walter get hurt."

  "OK," Zeb said. "I'll keep an eye out for him and Gilda. If I see her I'll try to keep her here."

  "Thanks," Stella said.

  Zeb went back to his kitchen and Dot moved closer to us. "I told you," she said. "I told you that hussy was up to no good. I knew it in my bones and my bones never lie."

  "We don't know anything yet," I said. "It's all just a lot of rumors and conjecture. We need facts."

  "Well sit a while and have some lunch. You can think on it just as easy, maybe better, over a baloney with pickles."

  "Good idea," Stella said. "I'm hungry. Bring me a baloney with pickles and a Coke, OK, Dot?"

  "Sure thing. How 'bout you Griselda."

  "A shake. Chocolate."

  "That it? No fries?"

  "And fries," I said.

  It was close to one o'clock when Stella and I finished our lunch. We ate quietly with one eye trained to door looking for Cliff or Gilda.

  "What do we do now?" Stella asked.

  "We wait." I sipped my milkshake. "We wait until Cliff shows up and tells us what he knows."

  Dot slid two slices of blueberry pie toward us. "Want whipped cream on that?"

  "Blueberry? Since when does Zeb make blueberry pie?" I said. "Especially this late in the season."

  "That's Charlotte Figg's blueberry," Dot said. "Zeb is testing her out."

  "Oh, that's right, he did tell me he was going to start serving her pies. That's really weird. I didn't think he'd go through with it."

  "I heard that," Zeb called. "I figured it would be good for

  Stella bit into hers. "This is really good. How'd she get it to taste so good?"

  With nowhere else to go except maybe back to Stella's farm we decided to wait things out at the café. Everyone always came to the café at some point. We were just so surprised when we saw Gilda.

  She strolled in with her chest held high just as I ate the last bit of my blueberry pie. I tapped Stella's shoulder. "She's here."

  Stella whipped around on the counter stool. "Oh my goodness and look who's she with."

  Gilda was holding fast to Boris Lender's arm. He looked so proud he could have burst his suit coat buttons.

  "Well lookie here," Gilda said. "The whole wedding party. Well except for the groom that is."

  "Now hold on Gilda," Stella said. "What are you talking about?"

  "Well now, I guess I just went ahead and got my little ol' heart set on you being my maid of honor, or, I guess that would be matron of honor."

  Boris continued to beam. I needed to hold Stella back although I enjoyed my mental picture of her tackling Gilda right there in the café.

  "I never agreed to be your . . . you—I can't even say the words."

  "No prob," Gilda said. "I thought you'd want to do it for Walter. But that's your ball of beeswax." She looked at me. "Griselda, will you stand up with us? We need a witness and—"

  "No thank you."

  "Go ahead," Zeb said. "You can be the maid of honor."

  I think my eyebrows arched so high they resembled the spires of Notre Dame.

  "I will not," I said. "I hardly know Gilda or Walter."

  "Well it makes no mind," Gilda said. "I'll just grab someone at the nursing home. One the patients will surely love to be in the wedding, especially if I buy her a nice corsage to wear on her pajamas, you know, Stella, honey?"

  "Don't call me that," Stella said.

  "Ah, now is that anyway to talk to your future sister-in-law?"

  "OK, OK," Boris said. "We just came in here to get a quick bite and then it's off to the nursing home so I can get the lovebirds hitched."

  "What?" Stella said. "You mean today? You saying you're getting married today?"

  "That's right," Boris said, "long as Walter can say I do and sign the license. The place doesn't matter."

  "The license," Gilda said. "It's only—what did you call it, Boris sweetie?"

  "Valid," he said with soupy eyes looking right at Stella. "The license is only valid for another forty-eight hours and then you'll have to go get a new one. Remember? I explained all that to you."

  "But Gilda," I said. "If you truly love Walter another few days won't matter. And it's not hard to get a license. I'm sure Boris will be glad to help you do that—when Walter is better."

  "Oh, but it will matter," Gilda said. "I just can't stand the thought of even one more day going past when I am not Mrs. Walter Hughes. It just breaks my heart to think about waiting, and well, we got the license and we got the justice of the peace and we even got a whole nursing home full of people to watch us. It's going to be so nice."

  "But what about Walter?" Stella said. "Maybe he wants a church wedding. I mean he used to believe in God."

  "Now, now," Boris said. "God will be at the nursing home."

  "He does get around," Gilda said. "God I mean. Seams he's everywhere—isn't that what you folks believe?"

  "What about a ring?" Dot Handy said. "You need a ring."

  "No problem," Stella said. "I went into Shoops and bought me this pretty little gold band. Eighteen karat gold." She pulled it out of her skinny little purse and showed it to Stella.

  "Gold plated," Stella said.

  Gilda clicked her tongue. "Now Stella, you really need to get used to the idea. I am marrying your brother the instant I am able. We're going over there right now to see how he's doing."

  "What if he's unconscious again?" I asked.

  "He wasn't this morning," Stella said. "I stopped in there bright and early and he was looking really good. He even said a few words."

  "A few words," Stella said. "A man needs to be able to say more than a few words to have a marriage."

  "Oh, don't you worry your precious little heart, I made sure he could say 'I do.' "

  I had to grab Stella's hand again because this time she was truly fixing to deck Gilda.

  "Anyhoo," Gilda said. "Let me have one of them baloney sandwiches, Dot. I need my strength for the honeymoon."

  I winced. "Gilda, how in the world—"

  "Oh, now don't get your bowels in an uproar, Griselda. I won't do anything to hurt my dear sweet Wally.

  I'm just saying I don't want to faint dead away from lack of nourishment before Boris pronounces us man and wife. We'll take care of the honeymoon when we can."

  "Seems to me you already had the honeymoon," called Dot.

  "Come on, Stella. I can't listen to this anymore." I turned my attention to Gilda. "I don't care how sweet you make things sound. You are up to no good. And I'm going to prove it."

  Boris looked daggers at me. "Griselda Sparrow, I am ashamed of you. This sweet young lady has nothing but the purest love for Walter."

  Dot coughed up a lung.

  "Let's go, Stella, before she sinks her fangs into
anyone else."

  "She making Gilda zombies," Dot whispered as we passed by. "You know, they fall under her ruby-lipped, big-breasted spell and they're gone to Neverland."

  32

  Just as we got to my truck I heard what I knew was Cliff's plane overhead. I squinted into the bright sky. "Look, that's Matilda. Where's he going?"

  "Oh, crud," Stella said. "Looks like we were waiting at the wrong place."

  "Now what," I said. Without him we can't do anything because we don't know what he knows."

  "I want to go see Walter," Stella said. "If he's talking maybe he can shed some light on it."

  "Good idea. I think the best place for us right now is at Walter's side."

  Stella climbed into the truck and pulled the door shut. "Are you sure about this? I mean don't you need to be at the library or anything."

  "Yeah, I should be, but this is important. If there's some book emergency I'll handle it later."

  I pulled away down the street. "What about Mildred? Should we talk to her?"

  "Come to think about it," I said. "Mildred has been conspicuously missing through all of this also. You don't suppose she and Cliff are tracking down a lead together?"

  "That's a distinct possibility," Stella said. "Let's stop in and see if she's in her office."

  I stopped out front of the town hall. "Her car is missing."

  "But she leaves it parked at home sometimes and walks to work," Stella said.

  "Yeah, that's true. Let's check inside."

  I pulled open the large town hall door. A breath of cold air rushed out. "Why do they keep it so cold in here," I said. "It's like walking into the frozen tundra."

  "Boris Lender," Stella said. "He is one cheap bas—"

  "Her door is open," I said. But Mildred was not in her office.

  "Her too?" Stella said. "You might be right. Bet she's with Cliff." She stepped over the threshold.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To look for a clue."

  "You can't just go traipsing into her office like that," I said.

  "This is a matter of Bright Pond security," Stella said. "Let's poke around."