“Oh yes, I believe you’re right. Actually, Mom was tolerable. It was the sidewalk that was painful.” I took a long swallow of my water. It didn’t burn, but it was appropriately pleasurable.“Ahhh. I see your dishwashers have retired.”
“Thank the Lord . We got it in yesterday.”
“You gave that poor man Ron a fright.”
He motioned in the direction of the twins.“Honey, I paled in comparison to what he endured from those two creatures.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Hey, you!You’re that girl from the park . The one that listened to my conversation and sat on my bench.”A finger-pointing little twit headed toward the counter. I recognized him as the one who made the berating phone call in Forsythe Park.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, it is you. And then you wrote about me today in your little article.”
He had me on that one. I just couldn’t believe he remembered me. Or that he knew I was talking about him . Well, what do they say, admission is the first step to change. Or change is the first step to admission. Or something like that.
“Yeah, what was it you said about me exactly?” He questioned snidely.“Oh,well,why don’t we read it word for word.” He snatched up Section B from the table where he had been sitting before he rose to annoy me. “Let’s see here: ‘I listened to a man as he berated an apparent employee on the phone in the middle of Forsythe Park. For him, life was about money and making it. It was about winning or losing. It was about being the “top dog.” But my friend Joy reminded me it isn’t about either; it’s about just being. Just being kind. Just being faithful. Just being a friend. Just being available. Available for Sunday dinner and baseball games. Available for graduations and recitals . How can any man be those things when the very premise, the very foundation of his living, has been focused on the wrong hero?’”
“I think that’s pretty good, don’t you, Dad?” Surely Jake could shore me up in these here murky waters.
“If it’s what you heard, it sounds good to me.”
“Good?! You call that good! It wasn’t even accurate.”
“I just call it how I see it.”
“I was talking to my father, you idiot. He’s the owner of the company, not my employee.”
“Then I would say your tone isn’t the only issue you need to be dealing with, mister.”
“I could sue you.”
“Wouldn’t do any good,” Dad assured him.“Last I heard, she’s in the hole as it is.”
“He’s right. I don’t have a penny to my name. And no one will know it’s you,” I said, attempting to console him. “Unless man is your middle name.” I turned around on my stool and left him to snarl at the back of my head.
“Jake, you better get control of this . . . this . . . this little Sugar Daddy Stealer,” the man spat at the back of my head.
“Now you’re getting personal,” I said to the man behind me while looking at my father in front of me.“And those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
“Savannah, that’s enough.” I could tell my dad was trying not to smile. “Todd, I’ll handle Savannah; you just try to have a good day at work.”
He left. But he made a whole lot of ruckus in the process.
“You are an incorrigible child.”
“You liked my article, and you know it. Or you would have told me first thing.”
“You did a good job, baby girl,” Dad said, sitting down beside me and picking up the paper. He began to read aloud.
I’m not here to write about choosing a religion. I’m here to share my experience that one can begin a journey unsure of the destination. But when the fork in the road comes and one path or another must be taken, a choice will have to be made. I had to choose. Not to choose would prove apathetic, a trait no one today can afford to have. And I could not choose a path that abandoned the beliefs I hold dear.
But the path I did choose led me to a very valuable revelation: Should every monument be hauled away, what I believe is etched in me. And I learned it this week by walking with three different women. One made me smile, taught me with her ever-present wisdom, and ate my food . The other caused me to think, challenged me with her divergent belief, and shared her Snickers . The third has offered me her food and her wisdom for the last twenty-four years. And each week I learn to respect her more as the woman she is, and not just because she’s my mother. Each woman came to her own fork in the road. Each woman chose the path that reflected the core belief of who she is.
In the end, only one path will prove right. I chose the voice of experience on this one. And I followed the one of my heritage . The heritage of my family, and at the end of the day, the very heritage of my nation.
Until next week.
Savannah from Savannah
Dad put the paper down and stood up from his stool. He walked over and gave me a peck on the top of my forehead.“Good job, baby girl.”
“Thanks. I’m listening.”
“Would help if you showed it more often,” he said, right eyebrow raised.
I met his challenge and then posed the ever-looming question.
“Have you seen me on the front page of the newspaper?”
“Yep.”
“Well, two stories about me in one day. I just might become my mother after all. Lord help us all.”And with that I left him . Him and his little thought for the day in chalk above his head. He who guards his way, guards his life.
CHAPTER FORTY
I felt every stair. Yet I continued to climb to my new home. Opening the door, reality swept over me once again: life as I knew it was gone . Well, that had actually begun last Friday, so technically I was being prepared in advance.
Everything was as we left it. Sparse. I walked into my new bedroom, which felt nothing like home except for the fact that everything I owned in this world was in it. But then, 90 percent of what I owned, I had not actually purchased. Sad.
The small tan box with the orange stripe and white lettering rested safely on my nightstand. I picked it up and let it turn gently in my fingers. I knew I would come across pictures. I would find letters. I would battle memories. But I had to start somewhere. And as much as I detested the remote possibility that Joshua might be a smidgen accurate, I knew he was.
I had loved Grant. As much as I was capable of loving anyone up to this point in my life, I had loved him. But it wasn’t the kind of love that included a lifetime of commitment. Grant had known it years ago. I wouldn’t admit it until I knew he was gone. I could fight on. But what for? Pride? Jealousy? Resentment? The mere fact I didn’t want to lose to a long-legged maiden? And I did love Grant enough not to cause him any more pain, or at least any more wasted evenings.
I walked over to the small stainless-steel trash can that I had brought up, with permission I might add, from Dad’s shop. I stepped on the small black lever that opened the lid . To my chagrin the dumb thing worked . The lid opened. I dropped my small lightbulb box, and with it any chance of marrying the man who I had just assumed would wait for me forever.
He was just what I knew. Now I wasn’t sure I knew anything. Well, I did know one thing: Joshua North would never be allowed the satisfaction he hoped to find in this moment. He may make me tingle. But I would die a thousand Vicky-induced deaths before he would ever have the satisfaction of knowing it.
Today’s agenda: Avoid Joshua. Don’t read the news-paper. Pretend that front page didn’t even exist.
I set my goals too high. Joshua was on the receiving end of the door as it slammed into him when I opened it. And the newspaper was spread across my desk.
“Wouldn’t have hit you if you had gotten out of the doorway.” I passed by him and his conversation partner from the sports room and went straight to my four portable walls.
Then I picked up the paper. At least I looked good. Arms stretched out, head tipped back, not quite as tired as the day before. Outfit was a bit wrinkled, but besides that my hair was lying nicely around my
face. It was the caption, however, that allowed me a moment of satisfaction: “Columnist Savannah Phillips, Researching the Very Heart of the Matter.” He did like me. I knew it.
I was about to sit down when I caught a familiar face in the bottom right-hand corner of the paper. Right under the copy that read, “confessed to stealing a Sugar Daddy as a youth.” I would come back to that later . The picture was Joy. Joy was in the paper. I sat down to scan the article, but the headline gave me a wealth of information: “Atlanta Family Widens Search for Missing Mother and Grandmother.” My little Joy was a runaway.
“Wonder why?” I asked myself . Wouldn’t have even had to ask myself had I read the article first. Seems that Joy was suffering from long-term memory loss, the result of a head injury she had sustained during a car accident a couple months ago. Her family feared that she had wandered off and forgotten her way home.
I ran to Mr. Hicks’s office without stopping to get permission from Jessica. She didn’t like it. I didn’t care.
“Mr. Hicks,” I panted. I hadn’t waited for the elevator, painful thighs or not.“I know this woman,” I said, laying the paper down in front of him.
“What?” His head was spinning from the flurry of activity that had just entered his office. Because Jessica was on my heels in adamant protest of my arrival.
“I know her . This lady. Joy. She ate my catfish!”
“Would you calm down?”
“I can’t! I have to find her. And call her family! That’s why she wears the same dress every day.” I was talking to myself, but he didn’t catch on.
“Savannah, if you will calm down one moment and speak sanely, we might get somewhere.”
“Okay. Okay. I knoooow this lady. She’s been wandering the streets around here for a week.”
“This missing grandmother?”
I started pacing, and Jessica left. It was best for us both. “Yes. We talk every day. She’s like, well, like my friend.”
“Is she the lady you talked about eating your food?”
“Yes!” I collapsed into his leather chair, because that was all the energy I had left.“Yes, she’s the one.”
“Well, why are you sitting down?”
“What? Just because I’m a confessed candy stealer, now I can’t even sit down? And I do owe you one for that headline.” I smiled.
He winked but continued with his protest of my sitting position.“ No, Miss Paranoia, you need to get up and go find this lady.”
I jumped up, wondering why the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.“Oh, right! Good idea.”
“Now, listen. I’ll call the number here in the paper . You bring this lady back here to my office, and I’ll try to get her family to come here and pick her up.”
“Her name is Joy. She has a name.”
“Okay, Savannah, you . . . go . . . find . . . Joy.”
I put my hand on my hip and raised my right eyebrow at his drawn-out mockery. “I’m not a third grader.”
“Would you listen? For one minute, just listen. Go find Joy. Bring her back here and quit making everything a discussion.”
“Right. I’ll get her. I’ll bring her back. She’ll have her family, and you can put a new picture of me on the front of your paper. ‘Candy Stealer Redeems Self. Finds Missing Grandmother.’”
“Would you please go?”
I drove around like a crazy person. And when that was no longer possible because of the ridiculous number of roadblocks and police pandemonium due to the presidential visit, I simply got out and ran. Not easy in a sundress and wedged Stuart Weitzmans. I couldn’t find her anywhere. She wasn’t in the square across from the courthouse. She wasn’t near Katherine’s Corner Bookstore. She hadn’t taken up outside of Savannah’s Candy Kitchen. So, I headed back to our first encounter, Forsythe Park. There, lying on the bench amid “her” flowers, was one Joy Odom.
I knelt down by her bench. She was killing it. I hadn’t heard snoring like that except from Duke. I wanted to see her as a helpless child, lost and alone. But with sounds coming out of a person that could raise the dead, well, let’s just say I had to wake her up before she scared me.
“Hey, sunshine . Wake up.” I tapped her arm. She startled with a snort and a jerk.“Whoa, missy. It’s just me, Savannah.”
“Savannah, my Lord, baby, you about scared the daylights out of an old woman.”
She made me smile. Even when she lusted after my food, she made me smile. I just liked her. Everything about her. Even her old ugly floral dress.
“Ow,” she said, rubbing her back. “That’s a small bench for a big woman like me.”
She moved over to the right side, and I was able to sit down. “Have you been sleeping out here every night?”
“No, a lot of nights I sleep out by the monument. But I was out here last night praying in this beautiful garden, and just got too tired to walk back.” I realized at that point there was no telling how far Joy had walked this past week. Savannah may be built on twenty-two squares, but it is 2.2 square miles of squares, and nothing is as close as it seems . The poor thing should be skin and bones by now. Although, with all the dinners she’d been having, she was liable to have gained weight.
“Who do you sleep with out at the monument?”
“Some nice man with a golden retriever always has an extra sleeping bag. He lets me use it when I’m there. Gives me free coffee too. I really like him. He’s pretty nice-looking too.”
Ooh, this was odd. And after the kissing episode the other day, I was already dealing with undue trauma. I changed the subject. “How would you like to come hang out where I work today?”
Her face lit up. “At the paper?”
“Yeah. See what we do. How the paper is printed. Meet my boss. All those kind of neat things . Maybe even have lunch together, and maybe even buy a new dress . What do you think?”
“I think that is a glorious idea, baby.” I helped her up off of the bench and took her arm to walk her to the car.“What are we having for lunch today, Savannah? Got some catfish?” Her eyes were like a two-year-old’s.
I giggled at her innocence.“How ’bout we go get you a cup of coffee and a muffin at Jake’s, and then I’ll take you to Lady & Sons for some catfish or fried chicken for lunch.”
“It’s going to be a glorious day, Savannah. I feel it in my very bones. Just a glorious day.” She had no idea.
Richard opened the door for us. “Ms. Joy, what are you up to today?”
“Oh, nothing, Richard. Just spending some time with this sweet girl.”
“Who? Savannah?” he chided with a wink.
“Yes, this baby is taking me on a tour today,” she said with genuine appreciation.
Dad walked from behind the counter and gave us both a peck on the cheek.“Just like you like it, Joy,” he said, handing her a cup of coffee.
“This is a fine man,” she said, poking me with her elbow . That was a rather disturbing glint in her eye.
“Joy, please, this is my father. I don’t want to talk about him being fine, handsome, or kissable. I just want to think about him being a father.”
“This is your father?”
Dad smirked.
“Yes, and he’s not fine. No offense, Dad.”
“None taken.”
“He’s just a dad. My dad . Who doesn’t need women swooning over him all day.”
“Well, my Lord have mercy. I should have known you come from such quality.”
“Thank you, Joy.” He gave her another peck.“And thank you for appreciating me too,” he said, giving her a wink. He was becoming downright shameless.
The door opened, and Granny Daniels entered.“Savannah, what are you doing here this morning?”
“Just brought my friend in here for some of Jake’s coffee.”
The two women looked at each other. Granny Daniels’s face lit up.“Joy! I missed you last night.”And with that the two friends linked arms and walked to a corner table. Mervine and Louise took them a breakfast of muffins an
d coffee. Dad sat down beside me at the bar.
“They’ve both been sleeping out on the square?” I asked.
“Every night.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Yes ma’am, it is.”
“Did you get in touch with her family?” Dad asked quietly.
“How did you—” I whispered, getting successfully cut off by the rattling of the paper on the counter.
“I read the paper too, Savannah.”
“Oh yeah, right . Yeah, Mr. Hicks is calling them . They should be here quickly. But she has no idea.”
“Well, go show her a wonderful morning.”
“I will.”
“You like your new place?”
I couldn’t help but smile.“Yeah, needs furniture. But it’s going to be great . You can come see it after work.”
“I’d like that.”
“Me too.” Even though we’d never let the other know, we already knew he had.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I treated Joy like a princess. She toured every spot of that facility. Met Joshua. Liked him immensely. (She had been hit on the head, remember.) Didn’t think Jessica had very good manners for a Southern young woman. (So maybe she wasn’t hit real hard.) Loved to watch the printing press. Got her a snack in the break room . The woman couldn’t pass up food if she was muzzled.
She and Paige would have been soulmates.
We stole away to Jezebel’s and got her a great yellow linen ensemble. Then I stole her away to my parents’ house for thirty minutes to let her shower and to make her beautiful. If the newspaper thing failed, I definitely had a fallback career: personal stylist to street people. She was still beautiful but greasy by the time we finished lunch at Lady & Sons. But Miss Paula Dean made over her like she was royalty. Joy told her she had some recipes she would send, but she couldn’t quite remember where they were right now. Miss Paula told her to mail them when she got the time.
By our return to the paper at noon, a page came over the loudspeaker, asking me to come to Mr. Hicks’s office. I knew what this meant. Joy was going home. I left her at my desk for a minute so I could make sure everything was okay upstairs. It was. And when I returned to fetch her, she had neatly folded up Section B with my article on top and laid it on my desk.
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