Griselda Takes Flight

by Joyce Magnin

  Stella didn't say a word or move a muscle. Gilda cracked a tiny smirk that went unnoticed by Walter who seemed to be working hard to keep focused on the ceremony.

  "Well then," Boris said. "Gilda, do you—"

  But that was when Mildred and Cliff burst into the room.

  "Stop the wedding," Mildred hollered. "Stop in the name of the law."

  38

  What? You can't do this," Gilda said.

  "Yes," Boris said. "What is the meaning of this? It is most irregular. Most irregular."

  "I have information that might change your mind, Walter," Mildred said.

  Walter continued to look dazed and confused.

  "What is it, Mildred?" I asked.

  Cliff stood next to me. "It's a doozy," he whispered.

  "After last night's debacle," Mildred said, "I decided to do more checking and this time I decided to check on our boy Walter here."

  A collection of gasps filtered through the room and down the hallway as more residents tried to push their way into the room. The orderlies shooed most of them out. "This is none of your business," they said. "Just go back to your rooms."

  "Walter," snapped Stella. "What have you done now?"

  Walter didn't say a word while Gilda continued to hold his hand.

  "There's a little matter of two million dollars," Mildred said. "I wasn't sure if, given your present medical difficulties, you would remember."

  "I remember," Walter said.

  "Two million," Stella said. "I thought the treasure was worth one million."

  "It's got nothing to do with that silly treasure," Mildred said. "But it seems our boy Walter here won a lottery a short while ago. He's a rich man. A very rich man."

  "What?" asked Stella. "What are you saying? Walter, why didn't you tell me?"

  "But . . . but I was going to tell you," Walter said. "But you don't understand. It's not—"

  Gilda shooshed him. "It's all right, honey buns, you don't owe anyone an explanation. That money is none of their concern, and there ain't no crime in winning a lottery."

  "That's right," Boris said. "Shall we continue now with no more interruptions? Can't you see these two people want to be married?"

  "I guess so," Stella said. "Two million dollars is a lot of money. I'm sure Gilda can't wait—"

  Walter raised his hand. "Wait. The money." He looked up at Gilda.

  "What about the money, my sweet?"

  "It's gone," Walter said.

  Gilda swallowed. She dropped his hand and then picked it back up again. Her eyes darted around the room.

  "Well that shouldn't matter, Walter," Stella said. "Not to Gilda. Not to a woman in love. Ain't that right, sister?"

  Gilda dropped his hand again. "What . . . what happened to it?"

  "Gambling," Walter said.

  Gilda stepped three paces back. "Oh, Walter, how could you?"

  He grinned.

  "Well, under the circumstances," Gilda said. "I think maybe we should . . . postpone the wedding until—"

  "What are you saying, Gilda? You don't want to marry Walter because he has no money?" I asked.

  Gilda clicked her tongue. "Well, you can hardly expect a woman to put herself in a position of—"

  "Needing to get a job," Cliff said. "To help support the family. Especially when the babies come. That's what women do nowadays, isn't it, Gilda? Work and a career?"

  "Hold on," Mildred said. "Gilda, or Irene or whatever your real name is, already has a career. It's called being a scam artist. And no matter what she says, I for one do not believe that she is still not scamming."

  "Why you conniving little hussy." It was Grace still in her tattered robe although she had pinned an artificial rose to the lapel. She made her way to the bedside and shook a gnarled finger at Gilda. "You get out of here and never come back. How dare you want to take advantage of my dear, sweet boy here?"

  "Gilda," Boris said. "Is this true? I am so utterly ashamed of you. You only wanted to marry this man for his money."

  "Ah, buzz off, lard man."

  Boris tried to speak but only sputtered. He closed his black book, stuffed it into his jacket pocket, and left the room.

  The crowd burst into jeers as canes were raised in protest. "Go on," they said. "Get out! Get out!"

  Gilda looked at Walter.

  "I guess you better go," he said.

  Mildred took her by the arm. "I'll see to it you get out of here safely."

  Gilda yanked her arm away. "I don't need your help, Captain Killjoy." She glared at Stella. "And you. You can just go back to your pumpkin patch and sit on your gourds. You're all a bunch of yokels."

  Cliff and I held Stella back as Gilda made her way out of the room.

  Fortunately Doctor Silver pushed his way through the crowd and into the room. "What the devil is going on?"

  "The devil just left," Grace said.

  Mildred took the doctor aside to explain while the orderlies dispersed the crowd.

  I stayed with Cliff and Stella who was now standing at Walter's side. She held his hand. "I'm sorry, Walter."

  "Sorry? Oh, I'll be all right. I knew about Gilda all along, but I really thought she had changed until I saw that you all were so upset over it, and well, five weeks is a long time to think."

  Stella smiled. "I'm glad we were here to help and I am glad you didn't go through with it. But I'm sorry about the treasure and about the money—your lottery money."

  "Oh, I still got the money—most of it anyway."

  "What? But you said—"

  "Testing," Walter said. "If she really loved me, the money wouldn't have mattered that much."

  Stella kissed her brother's forehead. "You rascal. You planned this."

  "Only since this morning. I guess that fire drill was a good thing."

  Cliff took my hand. "This calls for a celebration of some sort."

  I thought I should have taken my hand back. But for some reason I let him hold it.

  "A celebration?" Walter put his hand up. "Not yet. I'm tired."

  "That's right," the doctor said. "You've had quite an ordeal. It's not good for you, all this excitement. So I'm going to insist that your company leave. I still want to run a few tests before I let you go home.

  "Home." Walter looked away. "I'm not sure where that is anymore."

  "You'll come home with me. Nate's gonna love having you."

  "Oh boy," whispered Cliff. "This will be interesting."

  "OK," I said. "I guess we all better get going so Walter can get well enough to come home."

  Walter nodded. "Please come back."

  "We will," Stella said. "We will."

  "Oh, by the way," Walter said. "Where's Darlene?"

  "Darlene?" Stella said.

  Walter looked at us funny. "Yeah, Grace's daughter. She was in here a few days ago. Kept telling me to wake up."

  "Darlene?" I said.

  "Yeah. Pretty young thing."

  "You must be thinking about Grace," Stella said. "Darlene's mother. She's a resident here. Old. Wears a tattered robe?"

  Walter pushed his head into his pillow and stared at the ceiling. "No. I know who Grace is. But Darlene was the one who kept coming to visit."

  We all exchanged looks.

  "We haven't seen her," I said. "But if we do, we'll tell her you were asking for her."

  Nurse Sally met us just as we left Walter's room.

  "Well that little tramp sure left in a hurry. Of course, Grace was chasing her with her cane. Never saw Grace move so fast. She was calling that woman every name in the book."

  We laughed.

  "I don't think we'll be seeing Gilda Saucer or whoever she is anymore," I said.

  "She's probably halfway to Philly," Sally said, "from the way she was booking it."

  Stella and I started down the hall toward Agnes's room when I saw Grace looking out of a window.

  "Excuse me, Sally," I said. "Grace's daughter," I nodded toward the old, apparitional woman. "Darlene. She's d
ead, right?"

  "Yeah, sad story. Grace gets confused about it sometimes."

  Stella and I looked at each other. "Um, OK well, see you later, Sally."

  "OK. I'll be here."

  "Let's stop in and see Agnes before we go," I told Stella.

  "Good idea. She's probably wondering what happened."

  "You don't have to tell me the whole story," Agnes said. "My spies were just in and told me everything."

  "Yep," Stella said. "Looks like Gilda is long gone."

  "How's Walter," Agnes asked. "Is he OK?"

  "Better than OK," Stella said.

  "Oh, that's fine. That's real fine. I'm glad it all turned out for the best. God has a way of bringing things together. But I am sorry that Walter lost all his money—but gambling? Probably serves him right."

  "Not so fast, Agnes" Stella said. "Turns out my brother is still a very rich man. He lied to Gilda to see what she'd do."

  Agnes slapped her knee. "No foolin'. Well if that don't take all."

  Stella caught herself smiling and then turned it into a frown. "I just hope it is a good thing. I hope my brother really changed."

  "Now, now, Stella," Agnes said. "I suspect he has. A man doesn't have a near-death experience and not get changed."

  "Time will tell," Stella said.

  Agnes adjusted herself. "Griselda, could you please pull that blanket out from under my leg. It's bunched."

  "Sure." It took a couple of tugs but the blanket came free.

  "Now tell the truth, Griselda," Agnes said. "What's wrong? You seem kind of . . . quiet, far away."

  "Oh, I don't know." I flopped onto the chair.

  "Yeah," Stella said. "You have been quiet. Even through that whole thing with Gilda just now."

  "Well that was your business. But, if you want to know, Zeb and I . . . well I guess we're broken up."

  "Again?" Agnes said. "That boy has been running out on you time and time again. What was it this time? Refuse to hold his popcorn at the movie?"

  "No. I refused to marry him."

  39

  Refused to marry him?" Agnes appeared positively incredulous. Her face grew pomegranate red. "He asked you?"

  "Yes. But I told him—well, I didn't really tell him anything except I wanted to take it slow. And that I needed some time."

  "Slow. Time?" Agnes said. "You two have been an item since high school. That was a lot of years ago. You two go any slower you'll be walking behind each other instead of alongside."

  I peered out the window. The leaves on the trees had practically all fallen.

  "So how come?" Stella said. "Don't you love him?"

  "I don't know. Sometimes I think I do and sometimes I don't and I can't get married without being certain."

  "Ha," Stella said. "People do it every day."

  "But it's not for me. I want to be sure."

  Agnes made a noise and reached for her water cup. "Would you fill that for me, Stella? Use the water in the nurse's lounge."

  "Oh, OK," Stella said.

  She couldn't have made a more obvious ruse to get Stella out of the room.

  "It's that Cliff fella, that pilot, isn't it," Agnes said. "You got a thing for him. He's turned your head."

  I didn't know what to say.

  "I guess your silence is answer enough."

  "The truth is that I do like Cliff. He's turned out to be a real nice guy even considering his shady past. And I do like flying, Agnes. I really like being up there in the clouds in the blue sky soaring like an eagle."

  "But that ain't no reason to break up with Zeb. I bet that poor man's heart is broken in a million pieces. Just absolutely heartbroken."

  "Maybe. He was pretty sore when he left this morning."

  "You mean he just asked you this morning and you been running around trying to save Walter from that gold-digging hussy when the whole time you had your own crisis going on?"

  "I guess. But Zeb and I are not having a crisis. Leastways, I'm not. It's a decision I needed to make, and besides, I always imagined Zeb asking me in a more romantic way—like he really meant it. Not because he was afraid he'd lose me to Cliff."

  "Is that why he asked?"

  "I think so."

  Stella returned with Agnes's water. "What's going on?" She looked first at me and then at Agnes with that look when someone knows their presence is kind of unexpected or unwanted.

  "Nothing," I said. "Agnes was just wondering if there was anything going on between Cliff and me."

  Stella placed the water cup on Agnes's tray table. "Well there is isn't there? I think he's sweet on you."

  I felt my heart race and my toes curl. "Oh, please don't say that. I just like him for his airplane. Nothing more."

  The two of them hushed like they thought I was lying. "It's true. He's teaching me to fly—that's all."

  "OK, suit yourself, Griselda," Agnes said. "But you need to examine your feelings a while," Stella said. "I see the way you look at him."

  "OK, no more talk about me or Cliff or Zeb. I think we should just head back home. I haven't been to the library much and I want to check on Ivy and Mickey Mantle."

  My timing was perfect because Agnes's physical therapist walked into the room. "OK, Agnes," he said. "Let's get you up and walking."

  It did my heart good when I saw professionals working with Agnes. The most I could do for her was take her to the bathroom and back. But here at Greenbrier they had her on a plan, and she was making significant progress even if she hated the routine.

  "Oh, George, I ain't ready to go walking down the hall like a herded-up cow. Come back after lunch."

  I patted her hand. "No, you go now. I need to get back to town. I haven't been to the library all week practically."

  "Yeah, and I need to get home too," Stella said. "Wait 'til Nate hears that his long lost brother-in-law is a millionaire and coming to live with us."

  We both enjoyed a long laugh. It might have been a laugh born from all the stress of the previous twenty-four hours. But it felt good. Kind of like when Ruth sits under the train trestle and tries to scream louder than the trains. It felt good.

  "What do you think he'll say?" I asked as we headed home. I rolled my window down a crack and let the cool air rush in.

  "It's getting colder," Stella said with a shiver.

  "Oh, want me to roll it back up?"

  "No, I like the air. I'll just lower my window a little and let the air circulate better."

  I thought of Grace twirling on the patio.

  It was hard not to discuss with Stella the events that had unfolded that day, but at the same time it was like we both needed to sit and be quiet and ruminate in our own way about things. When I pulled up to her house I said, "So, you never answered me. What do you think Nate will say when you tell him about Walter's millions?"

  "Not sure. He'll find some way to blame me for not staying in touch with him all these years. He probably thinks that I should get some of that money."

  "He does owe you some, from before."

  "I know, but I reckon the Christian thing to do is pray about it and let God convict his heart, you know, Griselda. I don't want to go asking or try to make a court case out of it. For me, it really isn't about the money anymore."

  "I'm proud of you," I said. "You were so upset a few weeks ago and now look at you. Walter says he's changed and so have you."

  Stella looked into my eyes and for the first time I noticed she had tiny crow's feet at the corners of her eyes. "You've changed too, you know. Your decision not to marry Zeb yet is a good one. You take your time. Learn to fly."

  "I will. Thank you."

  I thought maybe my biggest mistake that afternoon was going to the library by way of Hector's Hill. Cliff was there looking over Matilda. I stopped and watched him a minute or two and was just about to pull away when I heard him call to me. He waved me over.

  "What do you say, want to take her up?"

  "Me? Actually lift off?"

  "You're ready."


  "But I've only flown it twice."

  "It's OK. You can do it."

  For some reason I looked around me like I was expecting someone to see what I was doing and get angry. "Are you sure you're allowed to teach me? Don't you need some kind of license or something?"

  "Oh sure," Cliff said. Then he grinned. "But up here, in the hills, small town. Who'd be the wiser? I can't write you out a license or anything but when you're ready, I'll take you into Wilkes-Barre where you can take the test and bing-bang-boom, you're a pilot. Griselda Sparrow, the pilot."

  I liked the sound of that.

  "Now come on, get in. It's about time the little sparrow spread her wings."

  I followed Cliff's instructions to the letter and before I knew it, Matilda was lifting off the ground, a little choppy, but still she lifted into the sky. We climbed and climbed.

  "OK, level her off. Eye on the horizon. Make it straight."

  "It was so easy," I said.

  "You were born to fly, Griselda. Born to it. Just like me."

  We flew over Bright's Pond low enough that I could easily locate my house, the church, the library. "You know I should be at the library," I said.

  "Nah, this is better. You weren't meant to sit behind a counter and catalog books."

  I wasn't so sure. Books had always been important to me. It was in books that I found meaning and solace, romance and intrigue. But ever since Cliff came to town I had a sense that I was ready for more.

  "When can I fly over the mountains?" I asked.

  "Soon. Let's get used to these easy flights first."

  "OK. The mountains can wait."

  Cliff instructed me on how to let down the landing gear and extend the flaps as I somehow managed to land Matilda with just a few false hits and jumps. She came to a stop kind of twisted but at least she stopped before running over the cliff.

  "Not bad," he said. "For a first-timer. But you'll never pass the test if you can't land smoothly."

  "OK, Coach. Guess I'll keep trying." I found myself looking straight into his eyes.

  "I better go," I said without moving.