Griselda Takes Flight

by Joyce Magnin

  "Yep. It means Walter has no money and maybe Gilda will turn tail and run."

  Stella raised her hands. "Thank you, Jesus."

  "Let's hope so."

  Rain started to fall when we turned on to the main road. "I cannot believe how rainy this year has been. Most of the summer and now the fall."

  My windshield wipers needed replacing. Why is it that the driver's side wiper is always the first to go and it always leaves a streak right in your line of vision?

  Stella's house was dark. A half moon hung behind it, giving the place a silvery glow, but the second I put the gear in park, the porch light snapped on and I saw Nate standing at the door.

  "Oh, he's fit to be tied," Stella said. "Just like I knew he would be."

  "Just tell him the truth. Tell him you were trying to stop the wedding."

  "He won't give a lick about all that."

  "But it's the truth. Just tell him the truth."

  "I'll try, but he won't listen."

  "Good luck," I said. "I'll come get you in the morning, and we'll go over to Greenbrier."

  "Early. I want to get there bright and early, hopefully before Gilda. I want to talk to her—sister to sister." She said the last part of that sentence with a smirk.

  Early came much too early. I heard someone banging on my front door at five o'clock. Even Arthur was startled. He was lying on my chest and looked at me like it was somehow all my fault that we had an early morning visitor.

  "Get off," I said. "I'll see who it is."

  Of course my first thought was that it was Stella and that something happened between her and Nate the night before or maybe Walter took a bad turn.

  "I'm coming, I'm coming," I said pulling on my robe.

  I opened the front door and there was Zeb, standing with his arms closed tight across his chest.

  "It's about time. I've been out here for nearly an hour."

  "Well get inside where it's warm. What were you doing out there for an hour?"

  He followed me into the kitchen. There was no way I was going to have a conversation with him or anyone without coffee.

  "I was hoping you'd wake up. But I decided to knock. I'm sorry it's so early, Grizzy, but I had to talk to you."

  "Is everything all right? Did something happen at the café?"

  I filled the percolator and measured coffee while Zeb stood near the kitchen door looking like he was about to bust wide open.

  "Maybe you should sit down," I said. "Are you hungry?"

  "Oh, I couldn't eat a bite. Not now anyway. Maybe after I say what I got to say."

  "Well now you're scaring me. Just spit it out."

  I sat at the kitchen table. "Come on, sit down."

  "Nah, it's better if I stand."

  My mind started to flip through the possibilities as Zeb stood there like a pillar trying to muster up the courage to say what he came to say.

  "OK, look, Grizzy, is there anything going on between you and that pilot?"

  "Cliff? No. Just flying lessons. That's all. But you should know that."

  "I guess I sort of do. But I had to ask seeing how there's nothing . . . nothing, you know . . . official between us."

  "Does there need to be?"

  "Maybe. You see, that's why I'm here, Grizzy. We've known each other since high school and everyone always said we'd end up married some day so . . . well what do you say? Will you?"

  I felt my eyebrows rise. "Will I what?"

  "Oh, you're gonna make me say it?"

  "Yes."

  "Marry me, Griselda. Will you marry me?"

  I swallowed and fussed with some crumbs on the table.

  "Oh, the coffee is ready. Want a cup?"

  "No, Grizzy." He grabbed my hand. "Please. Will you?"

  My mind swirled and my stomach churned. A few months ago I might have jumped at the idea of marrying Zeb but ever since Cliff landed in town and I started to fly I found myself more and more considering the possibilities that existed outside of Bright's Pond. More than I ever used to. I always wondered and imagined what was on the other side of the mountains I saw every day, wondered if there was more to my life than Agnes and the library. But this was the first time I ever dared believe it was possible to find out what life or God had in store for me.

  "Oh, Zeb," I said taking his hand. "You mean the world to me and . . . and I—"

  "So it's no, then, Griselda. I can't believe you're turning me down. Why? If there is nothing going on with Cliff, then why? I thought we had an understanding or something. I thought we had at least that."

  I looked into Zeb's sad eyes and thought about giving him the whole it's-not-you-it's-me speech, but I couldn't. He wouldn't have really heard or understood.

  "Let's just take it a little more slowly and see where it leads."

  Zeb took a step back. "No. It's not leading anywhere I want to go anymore."

  "At least let me explain."

  "Explain what? You don't want me; it's as simple as that."

  "No, it's not. It's much more complicated. I like being free, by myself."

  "Free. There's that word again. So it does have something to do with that Cliff fella."

  "Kind of. But not him. It's about doing what I want, when I want. It's about flying."

  "I said you could fly. I said I'd even buy your lessons."

  "Not just flying an airplane but flying in a different way."

  "I don't get it. I'd never hold you down when we got married."

  I put my hand on his cheek. "Oh, Zeb, yes you would. And that's not wrong. But for now—"

  "For now you don't want me."

  "It sounds worse than it is."

  "It can't get any worse, Grizzy. I thought we—" He stopped talking and kissed my nose. "I'll leave you alone. That's what you want. Go ahead, fly."

  I stood at the sink and looked out the window at our now scraggly and wild forsythia bush that was nothing more than a mass of brown, skinny branches. The yellow was gone until March, and I was OK with that because I knew it would bloom again. It always did.

  37

  At six o'clock that morning I headed over to Stella's. She was up and ready to go.

  "I hope we get there before Gilda," Stella said as she climbed into the truck.

  "We will. I doubt Gilda even knows there is a six o'clock in the morning."

  "Oh, Griselda, I like it when you get snarky and sarcastic. You should do it more often."

  "Me? No. I meant that."

  Stella rolled her window down about an inch and let the cold air into the truck. It was almost too cold, but I didn't say anything. I still felt a little rattled by Zeb's visit and maybe even numb. I thought about telling Stella about it but she already had one wedding to think about. I didn't want to throw my proposal, such as it was, into the mix.

  "Nate was pretty mad at me last night," she said.

  "Did you tell him why you were so late?"

  "I sure did and he just said it was none of my business, that Walter was free to marry who he wanted and to make his own mistakes. Just like we were. I'm still not sure what he meant by that."

  The parking lot was pretty much empty except for a few cars, which I assumed belonged to the employees.

  "I hope they let us in," I said. "I've never come this early."

  "Oh, I think they get up pretty early. Breakfast is at seven."

  "That's true."

  The door was open, and we were immediately met by a resident in a ratty old terry robe the color of a peach, or at least it used to be. "Cigarette," she said. "Got a cigarette?"

  I shook my head and tried to push past her but she blocked my way. Stella was able to get around her, but for some reason, the woman continued to crowd me and beg for a cigarette.

  "No," I said. "I don't have one."

  "Liar," she said. And then all of sudden she started to wail and pointed a finger at me and accused me of stealing her smokes, as she called them. Fortunately Claude rushed down the hall and took her by the arm.

/>   "Easy now, Grace; don't bother the visitors."

  "Oh," Grace said. "Is she a visitor? I thought she was my daughter."

  "No, no remember, she died."

  My heart sank and I wished for all the world that I had a carton of cigarettes to give her.

  "Next time," I told Stella.

  Stella and I stood outside Walter's room and listened like we always do for sounds of activity that we didn't want to disturb. Claude found us again.

  "Don't mind Grace," he said. "She's been forgetful like that, but you know, she's been hanging around Walter a lot when you aren't here. She visits with him and tells him all about her daughter, Darlene. You'd think they were best friends."

  I pushed open the door. No one was with Walter. Stella went right to his side. His eyes opened and he smiled and looked straight at her.

  "Stella," he said.

  She squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you're awake."

  He looked confused. "What," he cleared his throat, "happened?" His voice sounded smoother, less raspy.

  "The fire drill, remember?" Stella said. "Right before the ceremony. Before Boris Lender could marry you and Gilda. Don't you remember?"

  He took a huge breath that seemed to pain him. "Yes, so we didn't—"

  "No. You fell asleep after the drill—dead to the world."

  I gave her a slight shot to the spleen.

  Stella's hand flew up to her mouth. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean—"

  "It's OK? Where's Gilda? She all right?"

  "She's not here. And I don't know where she is," Stella said. "And frankly, I don't think I care."

  Walter pulled himself up as far as he could on the pillow and then adjusted his bed to rise slightly in the back. "What are you saying, Stella? I thought we were good again, I thought we worked things out."

  "We did—you and me—but Walter there's something you need to know about Gilda."

  He looked at me.

  "I have to tell you that she's not who she claims to be. Mildred Blessing, she's the cop in Bright's Pond, which is where I live, found out that she—"

  Walter put his hand up. "I know."

  He seemed to take a labored breath. "I know all about her past doings. She told me everything."

  Stella sat in the chair. She rubbed her palms along the arms. "And you're OK with it."

  He nodded. "Sure. That's not why she's marrying me. She really loves me. I really love her. It's different."

  "So the treasure doesn't matter," I said.

  He shook his head. "It's not about money. Never was."

  "So you've remembered about how you got hurt and all," Stella said.

  "I remember the treasure. Never found it. Don't remember how I got hurt."

  "So you believe that Gilda is still going to come here today and marry you—without the treasure. With no money."

  Walter twisted his mouth. "Uh-huh. You'll see. She's different now." He cleared his throat again. "You might even start to like her once you get to know her."

  I started to feel a little uneasy about being there for such a family-oriented conversation. "Listen," I said. "I'm very happy for you, Walter, you and Stella, but I think I'm going to leave you two alone and go see Agnes."

  Walter looked at me. "Agnes. I know Agnes but never met her."

  I touched Stella's shoulder. "Maybe you can explain Agnes and me to him," I said.

  As I made my way slowly down the hall I saw Grace again. She was outside on one of the patios smoking a cigarette. She looked cold and shivery.

  I slid open the sliding glass door. "Why don't you come inside where it's warm?" I said.

  She shook her head. "No. I like the air, the wind," she said. Just then several maple seed helicopters blew from the gutter overhang and twirled to the ground. "Makes me feel like I can fly." She flicked the butt into the grass and then held her arms out and twirled. "Wheeeee. I can fly."

  I stood there for minute or two and watched Grace enjoying the cool winds. She held her head back and spun. "Watch me, Darlene."

  "I'm watching," I said worrying that she'd grow light-headed and dizzy. Claude came by and brought her inside. "Come on, Grace. You shouldn't be spinning like that. Time for your medicine."

  Grace looked me in the eye as she walked past. "Goodnight, Darlene. I had a good spin."

  I knew exactly how Grace felt. Sometimes you had to find time to stand in the wind and twirl.

  Agnes was still in her bed.

  "Morning," I said.

  "Griselda, it's awfully early for you to be here. They haven't even gotten me up and dressed yet."

  "Did you have your breakfast?"

  "Not yet. They're a little late but that happens from time to time. They got so many people to feed it's a wonder we all get a meal every day."

  "Yeah, it's amazing that none of you fall through the cracks."

  "Well now, look at me, Griselda. That would have to be a pretty big crack."

  I sat near her. "I brought Stella over to see Walter. He seems to be doing well."

  "I hear that," she said. "He's kind of the talk of Greenbrier. They're calling it a miracle." She cringed. "Guess you know how that makes me feel."

  "Yeah, I imagine some folks want to give you the credit."

  "I did pray for him, Griselda, and as much as I hate to say it I am a little concerned that folks will start coming to me again. I just don't want that anymore."

  "I know. I thought of that too but we'll just deal with it if it happens. Guess you'll have to turn people away."

  She made a noise. "Can't ever tell folks I won't pray. It's a sticky wicket all right."

  "It turns out that Walter knows all there is to know about Gilda. He knows all about her being a black widow and doesn't care. He loves her."

  "Well there you go then, can't do anything about it if it's what the man wants."

  "I know but it still makes me mad. Stella is fit to be tied."

  "Nothing you or she can do." Agnes adjusted herself as an aide walked into the room carrying her breakfast tray.

  "Oatmeal this morning, Agnes. With blueberries."

  "Look at that bowl, would you. That's not enough food for a bird."

  "Well it's enough for a sparrow," the aide said. "Now eat up."

  "That's right," I said. "And you know, Agnes, you still get more than the others even though it looks like less to you."

  The aide smiled at me. "You must be Griselda. Agnes speaks of you often."

  "Hi. Yep that's me. Thanks for taking good care of her."

  "My pleasure, and my name is Lizzie, short for Elizabeth."

  Agnes slathered jam on a piece of toast. Then she dumped some milk into her oatmeal. "At home you always served my oatmeal with cream."

  "But I hardly ever gave you fresh blueberries."

  "Not true. You always remembered the little touches."

  A few minutes later, Lizzie returned with a cup of coffee for me. "Would you care for this? It's not the best but it's hot."

  "Thank you," I said. I poured a small amount of Agnes's milk in the cup.

  I took one sip and nearly dumped it down my shirt on account of the commotion in the hallway.

  "What in the heck is that?" Agnes said.

  I put the cup on her tray table and went to the door. I saw a group of residents.

  "Let me through."

  "That sounds like Gilda's voice," I said. "She's back. Well I'll be doggone, I thought she'd run lickety split now that there's no treasure."

  "You better get down there and see what's going on. But if those two want to get married, you better step aside."

  I rushed down the hall and turned the corner to find Stella Kincaid and Gilda Saucer toe-to-toe outside of Walter's room. Boris Lender was trying to wedge himself between them.

  "You can't stop me from marrying Walter," Gilda said.

  "Then why can't you wait until he's better, until he can stand up in front of the church all proper like? There ain't no rush."

  "Because I . . ." she
turned on the faucet again. "I love him that's why. Because I can't wait to be his wife."

  "Now see here, Stella," Boris said. "There is nothing you can do. I keep saying that. Let the two people get married." He took Gilda's hand. "We can do it right now if Walter is up for it."

  Stella saw me. "Griselda. Help me, please. I don't care what Walter says. We can't let him do this."

  "We have to let them," I said. "You heard what Walter says. He doesn't care about her past. He loves her."

  Stella released her lion's grip from Gilda's wrist. "OK. You're right. It's what he wants."

  Gilda yanked back her arm. "Thank you very much."

  I followed them into Walter's room. Gilda rushed to his side. "Oh, my darling. I hope our silly arguing out there in the hallway didn't upset you, but your sister tried to keep me away."

  Walter looked at Stella. "I thought we talked about this. It's OK."

  "All right," Stella said. "I'm here for you, Walter. I want us to be a family again, and if it means Gilda too, then, well, it's OK with me."

  "All right then," Walter said. "Let's get married."

  Walter gazed into his intended's eyes. "Come on over here, Sugar. Help me sit up on the bed. It might be hard for me to stand but I can sit on the edge, just watch out for my catheter tube and my bag of—well, they're still collecting."

  Gilda grimaced. In that one expression I could see that Gilda had no more desire to help her soon-to-be husband than she did to scrub toilets. "Sure, my sweet."

  It took a few minutes but finally Walter was sitting on the edge of his bed in his thin blue hospital gown. His legs dangling out, his bare feet just above the floor.

  Boris once again stood at the end of Walter's bed and opened his little black book.

  "Dearly beloved," he said, "we are gathered here today in the sight of Almighty God to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony. If anyone here should have any reason that these two should not be joined let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

  Everyone in the room, which by then included not only the wedding party but also Lizzie and Claude, Grace, the woman with the cellophane voice, and another resident clutching what I figured were fists of rice. A small crowd of miscellaneous residents gathered in the hall. I assumed most of them were armed with rice also.