I touched her arm, and she looked up at me with a smile.“I’m proud of you, baby girl. Real proud.”
I tried to fight the burning in my nose and the swell of tears in my eyes.“Come on, Joy. Let me take you to see my boss’s office. He has the best view in the place.”
“Oh, I’d like that, Savannah.” She hooked her black arm around mine, giving them an Oreo effect. “I sure have enjoyed this day.”
I smiled at her sincere black eyes. “Me too, me too.” I put her black hand in mine and appreciated the nice way we had cleaned up her short nails. Her hair looked good too, for the rush job we did.
“Think we can do this again?”
I knew that after today I might never see my new friend again. “Sure, I would love that.” And I meant every word.
I could hear voices coming from Mr. Hicks’s office. And as soon as we rounded the corner, a fortyish man ran out of the room and down the hall.“Mama! Oh, Mama! We’ve looked and looked for you . Thank God you’re safe.”
When he reached her, he wrapped her in a death grip. And his arms made it all the way around her. I could see her eyes as her head rested on his broad shoulder . They were searching and almost frightened. For a moment I wanted to reach out and protect her; she thought he was a stranger. But this was his mama. He had lost her, and now he had found her. And he wasn’t letting her go.
Finally she pushed him away and stared blankly into his matching dark eyes. He looked at her with such an ache. I couldn’t imagine the pain of not being recognized by the one who took you to preschool and taught you to tie your shoes (or in my case, buckle your pumps). But then there was a flicker beneath the bewilderment. And her sweet and smooth hand went up to his face and touched it.“Baby boy,” she said.“My baby boy.”
And with that he fell back into her arms and began to cry. And she patted his head, just like a mama would. And he wept.
“Hush, baby. Mama’s okay. Mama’s just fine,” she assured him as she stroked his head. By then her other children had surrounded us, and I stepped back to let them have this moment to themselves. I did notice there was no Mr. Joy. Just children. But no matter why Mr. Joy didn’t exist, she still lived her name. Even that untold story refused to deter her from being Joy. Her children gushed over her and patted her and loved her and scolded her, and she just loved the whole thing. She laughed and talked and patted and told them stories. Oh, the stories she had to tell.
As they made their way to the elevator, I wiped my tears on the back of my hand . They thanked me and Mr. Hicks, even Jessica, because she had witnessed the whole thing. I didn’t even care . Who would care about that at this point? I might care about it later, but right now it was all okay.
I listened to Joy’s familiar swooshing sound and wished I had one more plate of catfish that we could share. I watched as the yellow ensemble made its way up the hall and planned to burn her old one with Mother’s blue number upon my arrival home. I saw Joy reach her hand over to her oldest son and stop him. She turned around and looked at me.
She held out her arms. And I gladly accepted. I walked over to her and buried my head in her ample bosom, one I was certain had held many the head of a child through the years. My head fit perfectly. I tried to stifle my tears but couldn’t. Again, I didn’t care. I leaned up and whispered in her ear. “I’m going to miss you, Ms. Joy.”
She whispered back.“I’m going to miss you too,Miss Savannah.” She pulled me back and looked me square in the eye. Her eyes pierced me one last time. At least I hoped for a while . The woman had about worn me out.
“You see that man over there?” she asked me, pointing at Mr. Hicks.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“His name’s Samuel. I saw his placard on his door . Do you know what that means?”
“I have no idea.”
“It means ‘man who heard from God.’ And men who hear, Savannah, teach. If they are any men at all,” she said, peering up to give him a clear message.
He winked at her in response. She replied in kind. She looked back at me.“You’re going to see a lot and do a lot, baby girl . You’re going to touch people and tell people’s stories and share more dinners with strangers.” She was tickled with herself, and her belly bounced. “But you learned something this week . You’re learning how to be. ’Cause you’ve been something to me.”
I wanted to be stoic. I bit my lip in a vain attempt. But the tears fell freely. “And you’ve been to me, Ms. Joy. I’ve seen and heard every word. I’ll never forget you.”
“I wouldn’t want you to. ’Cause we’re going to do this again, remember?”
That made me laugh. She was telling me to remember. “I remember.”
“And you chose the right road, baby,” she said with a knowing smile. “You’re right, every treasure you need for being is etched right here.” She tapped her finger on my heart. “And no one can ever steal what is in your heart.” She kissed me on my cheek and gave me one final penetrating look.
I stared into her beautiful dark eyes, which revealed her very soul.“You’re an angel, aren’t you?”
“No, baby girl. I’m a mother.” She took the hand of her oldest son and turned to leave. She left humming.
That familiar tune rolled around in my head. Finally it hit me. “I know it!” I hollered loud enough to frighten us all. “I know what you’re humming!”
“Took you long enough.” She turned around with a sly smile.
“‘Rock of Ages.’That’s it, isn’t it? It’s ‘Rock of Ages.’”
“You got it, baby girl. ‘Rock of Ages.’ And that won’t change, no matter what happens up the street.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Jessica was trying to hide a tear. Imagine that. My word, the child was actually human. I was beginning to think she was a short-circuited Stepford wife. “Gotcha, didn’t it?” I said to her.
She flitted herself around to stare at her filing cabinet.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do, Jessica. See, you’re not so mean after all.”
She spun around.“I’ve never been mean.”
“You don’t call putting pictures of me in the paper in embarrassing and misunderstood situations mean?”
“I don’t make the decision of what gets in the paper around here, Savannah. He does.” She pointed to Mr. Hicks, who was still trying to recover from Joy’s departure. She was right, of course. At the end of the day, Mr. Hicks made the decisions. I looked at him. He looked back. Joy had gotten him. I could tell . The grown man’s eyes were sweating.
“Savannah, she’s right. The buck stops with me. And about your picture . Well, I’ll try to make sure that in the future your picture appears only above your article.”
He nodded at me with a smile. Jessica wore no expression at all.
“One more thing, Savannah . Tell Joshua North I’ll be talking with him shortly.”
Joshua was at my desk when I went to grab my purse. He had, once again, invaded my personal space and was looking at the picture of me and Paige from a trip we took a year ago to Greece for part of the Olympic games.
“Did you knock?” I picked up my bag.
He set the picture back down and turned to face me. “Very funny.”
He stopped and stared at me. The look in his eyes made me uncomfortable.“What?”
“You look . . . well, you look rather nice today.” I knew he’d notice. He thought he had me pegged. I could tell.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, heading back out.
He grabbed my elbow.“You can’t ignore me forever,” he said, trying to hide his smile.
“No, but I can ignore you for today. And I can deal with you tomorrow.” I removed my elbow from his grip before offering him my hand upside his head as well.
He brushed past me on his way back to his own cubbyhole to answer his ringing phone . Mr. Hicks.“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well, I am.”
“You’re a mess.” He laughed.
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br /> “I am not. I look much better today than the other day,” I said, passing my hands over my skirt.
“I didn’t mean the way you look; I mean you. But you’re figuring it out. I can tell.”Well, wasn’t he just some master of life.
“Oh, well, I’m so glad you approve. Because at the end of the day, my greatest desire is for your approval.” I tried to be as snide as possible. I exited with no further parting words. I didn’t care to ever see him again. Not again today anyway.
“Ooh!” I let out my frustration as I straightened my cushion to sit down in Old Betsy. She let out a similar sound, and we were on our way.
Most every street from the newspaper to the court-house was blocked. It didn’t matter. I would walk. It was hard to park nearby on a typical day anyway. The sidewalks were packed because the streets had been cordoned off with rope and police officers, so the presidential motorcade could drive directly up to the courthouse.
“Betty?!”
I turned to see Judge Hoddicks walking up the sidewalk with some men who were sweating underneath their black suits and death-grip neckties. He had called me Betty since I petitioned to change my name to Betty in the eighth grade. From that day forward, the name Savannah had never even crossed his lips.
“Judge! I haven’t gotten to see you all week . Tied up, huh?”
He chuckled, wiping his sixty-five-year-old white eyebrows with his handkerchief and wrapping the other free hand around me as we walked.“I would say your mother has paid the tied-up price for me.”
“You got me there.”
“Are you heading over there to see her?”
“Yes, sir . Want to make sure she looks okay . You know, with the president coming and everything.”
“She’s proud of you, Betty.”
“I know. And I’m proud of her.”
“You should be. She’s shown us what she’s made of this week.”
I looked at his tired eyes . Wonder what Joy would have said about him.“Looks like you have too.”
“It’s been worth it . We might not win here, but the message sent by the people who have flocked to this square is proof of what they’re willing to fight for.”
“You did good.” I put my arm through his and rested my head on it as we walked.
“It’s not hard when you love what you do.”
The path cleared before us as Judge Hoddicks made his way to the courthouse . There were some pats, some cheers, and a few rather snippy remarks. Sergeant Millings raised his nightstick at the protestors, as if he would know what to do with it. I paused across the street from my mother while the judge went on inside the courthouse. Vicky was standing, talking animatedly with some women who were gathered around her. She looked beautiful, stunningly beautiful, considering the sweltering humidity of this first day of June. Of course, she was underneath her umbrella and holding a tiny motorized fan to her face, but in spite of that, she looked fabulous.
I didn’t want to bother her. I just wanted to enjoy her. She loved these people. She loved this city. Her love showed in every gesture and every hug and every question about someone else’s children . True, she wanted to control it, but at the core, she just wanted to see it succeed.
A lady on the roped-off sidewalk caught everyone’s attention. “Watch it . Watch it. The president. That’s his car. Look, look, the president’s motorcade!”
All the action on the sidewalks and around the courthouse ceased. And in that moment in time, it seemed as if the entire light of the sun shone on one Victoria Phillips and the monument she protected. Everybody backed away from her, and she stood in front of the monument,waiting to meet the president. She looked regal. Almost queenlike. Handcuffed, perhaps, but queens had passed that way before as well.
I heard the sound before I realized what was happening . The roar of an engine. The squealing of brakes. I turned quickly from my position across the street from my mother. In one lightening-flash moment, the third car in the motorcade broke loose and headed directly for my mother and the monument.
The air was sucked out of the square. All I saw were the whites of Vicky’s eyes, larger than life . They were like a Shih Tzu’s with its ponytail too tight. In an instant, the car broke through the iron hitching posts and crashed into the monument . The sound of crunching metal, crumbling concrete, and piercing screams could be heard on Bay Street. Then silence. For an eternity no one moved. All that was heard was the hissing of the radiator of the engine and the clanging metal as the rest of the bumper detached itself and landed on the sidewalk.
“Mother!” I screamed as I ran across the square. Bile rose in my throat at the thought of what I would see. Before I knew it, two men who looked for all the world like morticians, grabbed me and pulled me away . The back door of the limousine flew open, and out climbed two secret-service men, followed by the president of the United States.
The president’s car had killed my mother! The president scrambled out and ran toward the monument . The secret service men were in front of him and behind him. I broke free from the two men holding me and ran in terror to find my mother. As I rounded the side of the car, I noticed movement underneath some of the granite. My father rose from the mess, and underneath him lay my mother, virtually lifeless until she heard the president’s voice . Then those Mary Kay mascara eyelashes batted open. The secret service men pulled my father up. He had a noticeable cut across his elbow and a small cut on his cheek. Other than that, he was mostly dusty.
The president then reached down to help up my mother. She wasn’t quite the picture of perfection that she had been moments ago. Her hair was sitting predominately on the right side of her head, now a white ashen color. Her face was practically albino, and her pretty pink suit . . .well, let’s just say it wasn’t so pretty. She had a slight cut above her right eyebrow. She’d milk that one for a month. One heel was broken. She’d milk that for two. And her stockings were ripped to shreds, proving once again the ridiculous notion of wearing clean underwear during a wreck . Who’s to say how the mess happens.
She tried to brush herself off. Make herself presentable for the leader of the free world. A vain attempt at uselessness.
And there in rubble, surrounding the woman that had protected it, lay the crumbled monument of the Ten Commandments. For the past week people had prayed by it, sung by it, slept by it, and fought over it. And today it was nothing more than a mass of chunks of marble and piles of dust. No court would decide its fate now . That had been decided by a crazed limousine driver.
Then I remembered Joy’s tap on my heart. It was still intact in there, no matter what had happened to it out here . We would fight for the monument again. But no matter the outcome next time, it hadn’t been shattered inside me.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Are you all right, ma’am?” the Texas drawl of our forty-third president filled the air.
“Oh, yes, yes, I’m fine.” Had she seen herself, she would have known better. Had she seen herself, she would have stayed under the rubble. Feigned death and sent a better picture of herself later. “I’m simply fine, Bushi . . . I mean, Mr. President.” Poor soul was still dazed.
I made my way to Dad, who was being attended by a doctor. I would give her and her hero a moment alone. After her week, she deserved this. After her sacrifice, even the Lord had given her a treat.
“Are you okay?” I asked my father, throwing my arms around his neck.
“Yes, honey, I’m okay.”
“Oh, thank goodness. How did you get to Mother so fast?”
He removed the ice pack from his lip. “I don’t know. I just knew the car was coming and I had to get her out of the way. I grabbed the other side of that chain and just lifted it off of the monument and pulled her away.”
“You saved her life, Dad.”
“That’s okay. She saved mine years ago.” He looked at her with a love shared by people who knew what loving meant . We watched her gush over the president while a doctor attended her . The president and
she talked and laughed. I couldn’t help but notice the extreme sparkle behind the eyes in her dusty face.
“Is that lust?” I asked my father.
He laughed.“No, that’s admiration.”
“You sure?”
“After what I just did, it better be.”
The doctors patched them up. The president gave a warm handshake to my father. “You’re a fine man, Mr. Phillips, with a brave and honorable wife.”
My father stood and returned his firm grip. “Thank you, Mr. President. I think so as well.” Dad smiled at my mother, who seemed to notice him for the first time.
“I really wasn’t trying to kill her.” He laughed a nervous Texas laugh.
Dad laughed too, easing the tension.“It isn’t anything I’m sure many people haven’t thought about doing themselves a time or two.”That caused both of them to laugh.
Mother didn’t laugh a bit. “Jake Phillips!” she scolded.
“I just read a book about Ronald Reagan,” I offered . They all stared at me. I was odd. Undeniably odd.
The president extended an invitation to the White House. One I’m sure he would keep after today. One I’m sure none of us would ever live through . With that the Texas gentleman gave a Southern kiss on the chalky cheek of my mother.“Thank you, Mrs. Phillips. What you did here will be remembered by some forever.”
“Ooh, well it was the least I could do, Mr. President.” She placed her hand against her chest. It was the most Southern of gestures, the lowered batting eyes, the dainty hand-to-chest scenario.
Picture perfect. Perfectly Vicky.
Fortunately for the president, he had more than one car. He stopped as he passed me.“Nice dress, young lady.” He was a charming man.
“Why, thank you, Mr. President . Thank you very much.”With that he left, followed by the rest of his motorcade . Time would reveal the driver of his car had suffered a heart attack, so it really wasn’t the “left-wing conspiracy” mother originally declared it to be.
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