A Piece of Heaven

by Sharon Dennis Wyeth

  I nodded. “Thanks. But we’ll be okay.”

  Jackson gave me a thoughtful smile. “I’ll bet you anything that you’re the capable one in your family.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ve let a few pots boil over on the stove since Ma’s been gone.”

  He chuckled. “Why worry about being a good cook, when you can build a moving dolly? I bet you can even sing,” he said, popping down the last of his sandwich.

  “I sing alto in the school chorus,” I volunteered, “but most of all, I like listening to music. I love to listen to your students while I work.”

  “Some of my students are just beginners,” he said. “This morning you heard some pretty unpolished stuff. But it’s amazing what they’ll sound like in a year or so.”

  “When you were playing the piano the first day I came, I got goose bumps on my arms,” I blurted out. “I could listen to that forever.”

  “There you go, complimenting me again,” he said modestly. “Being able to listen is a gift, too. Not everyone can respond deeply to music.” He got up and stretched. “What an improvement, having those doors out of the way! Sorry I wasn’t able to help you.”

  “I was fine by myself,” I said staunchly.

  “I’m sure you were,” said Jackson. A smile flitted across his lips. “I’ve been dreaming of the little party I’m planning for Brielle out here. Looks like it might happen.”

  “Is it her birthday?” I asked curiously.

  “No, her birthday is in April.” He touched one of the leaves on the tree. “This is more of a homecoming celebration.”

  I imagined a tall, pretty girl with slicked-back hair walking into the yard, carrying a movie camera. Brielle and Jackson would hug each other, and then she’d make a movie starring her father. The movie set would be a garden with green grass and flowers, a garden that I had created in the yard! Though Jackson and Brielle wouldn’t see me, I’d be there, too, hiding behind the tree, perhaps.

  “When my mother comes home, I think I’ll give her a homecoming party, too,” I piped up.

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” said Jackson. “I’ve always loved giving parties.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Back to work!” he exclaimed, hurrying away. “One of my older students.”

  I stretched my arms and crossed to the stack of old shutters. The sun was beating down overhead. Sneaking a peek over my shoulder through the glass doors, I watched Jackson’s student. She was the same one who had come for a lesson on the very first day I’d met Jackson. He played a grand introduction and the girl’s gorgeous soprano voice soared. She sang with a huge smile on her face. I went to work.

  Over the next few days, I filled up bag after bag with rubble and pieces of old wood, while listening to Jackson’s students. I divided their voices into two categories: mellifluous, for the sweet ones, and cracked, for the ones that couldn’t carry a tune. After the garbage bags were stacked in a corner of the yard to wait until collection day, and the stuff for the special rubbish collector was all out front, most of the yard was actually cleared! Unfortunately, in the spots where grass should have been, there were burned-out patches of crud instead. It looked like the scene of a forest fire.…

  Jackson had asked me to store some screens in the shed, but there was no room. I decided to take everything out and sort it into piles, so that Jackson could see what he had. I thought I would never get through it.

  There were cans of dried-out paint, stacks of flowerpots, curtain rods, and bags of damp, smelly grass seed; a tangled-up rainbow-colored hammock, a perfectly good sewing machine covered with grime, and a barbecue grill with an amputated leg.

  Near the back of the shed, things got even more interesting: Christmas ornaments, stuffed animals, and old-fashioned costumes! I even found an ancient telephone that you had to dial instead of pushing a button. I also counted ten pairs of candlestick holders! And at least six boxes of sheet music, not to mention a box of books that had gotten all moldy. Beyond it all, wedged in the farthest corner, were a green tricycle and a pink tutu, which I guessed must have belonged to Brielle. I found a spot for them on the lawn, along with everything else. When Jackson came outside during his break, he was shocked. Now that every inch of lawn was covered again, all of our headway seemed to have disappeared.

  “What is all this?” he asked in a panicky voice. “Where did it come from? It looks like a flea market.”

  I pointed to the shed. “It belongs to you.”

  “Are you kidding?” he exclaimed. “I haven’t seen this stuff in years. I’d forgotten I had it.”

  “Jackson the Slob.”

  He laughed. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “So, what should I do with these things?” I asked, peeking into the box of stuffed animals.

  “I’m not sure,” he murmured. “I hate to throw it away. Once upon a time, there was a use for all these things, but now…”

  “Maybe somebody else could use some of the stuff,” I suggested. I glanced at the box filled with candlestick holders. “Guess you used to burn a lot of candles.”

  “The candlesticks weren’t my idea,” he said with a chuckle. “I had an aunt Laurie who had a poor memory. Every year for Christmas, she sent me the same thing. Gosh,” he added with a sigh, “maybe we should put all this clutter into garbage bags and leave it out for the trash pickup.”

  “What about the barbecue grill?” I remarked. “I found the missing leg. You could put it back on. A barbecue grill kind of goes with a backyard.”

  “I’ll need a grill for the cookout with Brielle,” he agreed. “Let’s see if we can fix it.”

  “And don’t tell me that you’re going to throw these away?” I said, fishing through the box of Christmas ornaments. I pulled out a string of tiny Christmas tree lights. “You could put these on your tree next year.”

  “I don’t get a tree anymore,” said Jackson.

  “How come?”

  He shrugged. “Nobody to see it but me.”

  “What about Brielle?”

  “Brielle doesn’t visit me very much.”

  “Not even at Christmas?”

  “She doesn’t feel very comfortable here,” he said sadly, “because of the divorce. That’s why this visit coming up is so important.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. As far as I was concerned, Jackson’s home was like a castle. I couldn’t imagine staying away if my father had a home like that.

  “Your mom and dad must have gone through something like that,” Jackson added.

  “That was different,” I blurted out. “My dad wasn’t like you.”

  “What is your father like?” Jackson asked.

  “He could be nice. I’m not sure,” I said hesitantly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.”

  I crouched down on the ground and stared at all the stuff. Both of us were quiet for a moment. “So, what’s the verdict? Do we toss it all out?” I asked, breaking the silence.

  “Toss out the things that are too far gone to be fixed,” he said decisively. “Bag up the rest for the Salvation Army. And if there’s anything that you can use at your house, feel free to take it.”

  I perked up. “Really?”

  “Pretend you’re at a free flea market,” Jackson quipped.

  “I’ll take one of these,” I decided, scooting over to the box of stuffed animals. I pulled out a long-legged monkey. “I can’t believe it!” I exclaimed. “My neighbor Nirvana has a monkey just like this! She made him talk when she used to baby-sit me.” I hugged the toy. “He’s so cute. Does he have a name?”

  Jackson grinned. “His name is Monkey.”

  “Nirvana named hers Monkey, too!” I squealed.

  We both laughed. “I guess it’s a pretty logical name,” I added sheepishly.

  “Monkey was one of Brielle’s favorite things,” said Jackson.

  “And she left him,” I said. “Too bad.”

  “She’ll be glad to know that he’s been adopted,” he ass
ured me. Jackson paused at the tutu and the tricycle.

  “Maybe we should keep these two things,” he added thoughtfully. “Brielle might want them for her own kids someday.”

  “I’ll put the tricycle back in the shed,” I offered. When I came back, Jackson had picked up the tutu.

  “Did you ever take ballet?” he asked.

  “I wanted to,” I said, “but we couldn’t afford it. We’re supposed to be saving our extra money for a trip to Disney World, but we haven’t gotten there yet. Did Brielle take dance classes?” I asked.

  “Along with a million other things, when she moved to California. Her mother tells me that Brielle has a lot of interests. But I guess now she’s settled on moviemaking.” He looked at his watch. “Ten more minutes and Shari will be here.”

  “I love her voice.”

  “I hate to leave you with all this stuff again,” he apologized.

  I swung my fists playfully. “Just let me at it!”

  Jackson laughed. “Confident, aren’t you? You’re like that little tailor in Grimms’.”

  I chuckled. “You mean the one who got seven in one blow?”

  He winked. “Told you I know my fairy tales.”

  I smiled. “I hope I can knock off the junk in this yard, the way the tailor knocked off those flies.”

  “I’m sure you can,” he said. “You sure you won’t take something else home?”

  “Maybe a candlestick holder for my neighbor Mrs. Brown.”

  “Take all of them,” Jackson said, waving his hand.

  “Ma might be able to use those Christmas tree lights,” I added. “I’ll show them to her when she comes home from the hospital.”

  “How is your mother?” Jackson asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I confessed.

  “Do you and Otis visit her at the hospital?” he wanted to know.

  I lowered my eyes. “She doesn’t want us to,” I said with a swallow.

  “That must be hard for you,” Jackson said kindly.

  “She’ll only let me talk with her on the telephone,” I blurted out. “No matter what, she always ends up crying. That’s the way depression is, I guess.”

  “There are so many ways of treating it nowadays,” Jackson pointed out. “I’m sure her doctors will find a way to help.”

  “They haven’t yet,” I said grimly. I looked up at him. “I wish you could have met my mother before she got this way. She’s the kind of person who never lets anything get her down. She put herself through night school while holding down a job and taking care of Otis and me.”

  “I bet she’s a great person,” said Jackson.

  “Want to see what she looks like?” I asked. I impulsively pulled out my wallet and opened it to a picture of Ma and Otis. It was one of my favorites of Ma. She was dressed in a soft blue outfit with a ruffled collar, standing on the steps outside Grandma Dora’s. Otis was standing next to her, with a crooked smile on his face. Jackson peered at the photograph.

  “Your mother glows,” Jackson exclaimed. “Look at that smile!”

  “That’s Ma all over,” I said wistfully.

  “And that’s Otis?”

  I nodded.

  Jackson’s eyes twinkled. “I bet he’s got a sense of humor.”

  “He’s a rogue,” I said mischievously. I put the picture away.

  “I’d like to meet them,” Jackson said.

  “I’m sure you will,” I promised, “when Ma gets well and Otis isn’t so busy with his incense stand.”

  He turned to the door and beckoned to me. “Now it’s my turn. Come on in. I’ll show you a picture of Brielle.”

  I followed him inside.

  “Here she is,” he said, producing a small framed picture from the edge of the piano. The picture was of a beautiful little girl with huge dark eyes and curly dark hair just like Jackson’s. She’d lost her two front teeth. Just looking at her made me grin.

  “It was taken when she was seven,” Jackson said, putting the picture carefully in its place.

  The same thing Jackson had said about Ma could be said about the girl in the picture. She glowed. I peeked at Jackson’s face. He missed Brielle a lot. I could tell. Maybe as much as I missed Ma. What could have kept him and his daughter apart? I wondered. But now that Brielle was coming to visit, all of that would be over.

  Jackson laid a hand on my shoulder. “When your mom gets out of the hospital, we’ll have a barbecue for her, too. And I hope that Otis will come.”

  “Really?” I gazed up at him.

  “Really,” he promised.

  The doorbell rang. Jackson let Shari inside. Today her hair was in tiny dreadlocks, and she was wearing yellow pants, an orange blouse, and bright red lipstick. Her eyes were bright.

  “This is my friend Mahalia,” Jackson said, introducing me.

  Shari smiled. “That’s the name of my mom’s favorite singer,” she said in a lilting voice. “Mahalia Jackson. She was a star. She sang gospels and spirituals. Check out her recordings. That’s your two names together,” Shari pointed out with a grin.

  Jackson beamed at me. “What do you know? Must be destiny.”

  The lesson began, and I wandered back into the yard. “ Destiny…” I murmured the word aloud. It was a word I liked.

  At home that night, I took a hot bath. Otis was out later than usual. I made myself an egg sandwich for dinner and put on my blue pajamas. Even though I was at home, I felt homesick. Homesick for Ma. I pulled the telephone over to the table and made my evening call.

  “Hi, Ma.”

  “Hi, sweetie.”

  “Are you better today?”

  “I think so.”

  “Did the medicine help?” I asked hopefully.

  “Yes. I feel different.”

  She sounded different, too. She wasn’t crying.

  “I got some Christmas tree lights from Jackson,” I told her eagerly. “I’m saving them for you. He gave me some candlestick holders for Mrs. Brown.”

  “He sounds like a nice man.” She wasn’t crying, but her voice was very quiet.

  “I can’t hear you very well, Ma.”

  “Sorry,” she said, speaking up a bit.

  “I did a lot of work on the yard,” I reported. “I made lots of money.”

  “That’s good, Haley.”

  “Hey, Ma, do you know who Mahalia Jackson is?”

  “She was a great singer,” she said softly. “Your father named you for her, don’t you remember?”

  My eyes welled up with tears. “You never told me that.”

  “Sure, I did. You must have forgotten.”

  Why did I feel like crying, when for once Ma wasn’t crying at all? I bit my lip.

  “Coming home soon, Ma?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “I’m trying, Haley. I’m trying.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When I woke up the next morning, it was pouring buckets of rain. Otis had come in after I’d fallen asleep, but he was already up and standing over me waving a long white glittery dress. “What’s going on?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. “Where did that come from?”

  He grinned. “Like it?”

  “Who does it belong to?”

  “It’s yours, if you want it,” he said.

  I sat up. Otis let the dress drop into my lap. “I love it,” I said with a little gasp. The dress was fitted on top and had a full, swirling skirt, with lots of layers and sparkly white sequins. I stood up and put it on over my pajamas.

  “Not bad,” said Otis. “It’ll look better without your blue pajama sleeves showing.”

  I ran across the room to look at myself in the mirror. That’s when I noticed the rest of the clothes piled in Ma’s alcove.

  “What is all this?” I said in amazement. Dresses, suits, and jackets were stacked all over Ma’s bed, most of them still covered in plastic. The place looked like a dry cleaner’s. “Where did these things come from?”

  Otis shrugged. “From my partner, Reggie. I hate to tell you how m
uch these threads cost,” he added, holding a suit up in front of himself.

  “You bought all this?” I asked in alarm. “With Ma in the hospital, we have to watch what we spend. I’m saving everything I make for a rainy day.”

  “Today is a rainy day,” Otis quipped. He patted me on the head. “Relax, Sis. I didn’t buy these clothes. I’m holding this stuff for Reggie. You see, we sell clothes like this at our incense stand.”

  “People buy clothes at an incense stand?” I asked in confusion.

  Otis smiled. “We branched out.”

  “Where do the clothes come from?” I asked.

  “That’s Reggie’s department,” said Otis. “I just sell them.”

  “Wow,” I said, sifting through the clothes. “These look expensive. You and Reggie must be making a lot of money.”

  “Making a little change,” Otis bragged.

  “So am I,” I couldn’t help boasting. I pulled up one of my pajama sleeves and flexed a bicep. “And look at my muscles! Working in Jackson’s yard is getting me into shape.”

  Otis beamed. “I’m proud of you, Sis. Me and you aren’t doing too bad on our own, right?”

  “I still miss Ma,” I admitted. “Don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I miss her. But it’s nice not to have her trying to check up on my every move.”

  “Let’s save up all the money we make and surprise her,” I suggested eagerly. “When she gets out of the hospital, she won’t have to worry about paying any bills. She’ll be so proud of us.”

  “Think she’ll be proud of me, too?” Otis asked skeptically.

  “Of course she’ll be proud of you,” I assured him. “She always wanted you to get a job, and now you have a really good one. Ma is doing better,” I reported. “Last night she wasn’t crying.”

  Otis let out a little sigh. “That’s a relief.” He gave me a toothy smile. “Thanks for taking over like that for me with Ma. I’m older, so I guess I should be the one going to see her and calling her on the telephone. But it kind of bothers me when she acts like a nut.”

  “She’s still our mother, Otis,” I reminded him quietly. I swished past the stack of clothes toward the window. Rain-drops splashed off the fire escape and onto the windowsill. “Guess I have the day off,” I said, breathing in the misty coolness. “How about you, Otis?” I called over my shoulder.