Garden of Angels

by Lurlene McDaniel

  He grinned at me and, feeling a rush of embarrassment, I stopped talking. “Did I say something amusing?”

  “No, I just like to hear you talk,” he said.

  “I know I talk too much. Sorry.” I walked to the sofa and sat on the edge of a cushion. “I reckon someone will be here shortly.” I almost added “to rescue you.”

  He sat beside me. “The wedding was good,” he said. “I went to Carole and Jim’s, but I don’t remember much about it.”

  An awkward silence settled between us. I lamented my lack of social skills, cursed my inability to make small talk in the effortless girly way Adel always did. I was wondering if I could check out a book on the subject from the library when he said, “You want a candy cane?” He pulled one from the pocket of his jacket.

  “No thanks.” Suddenly it occurred to me that he was probably hungry, since he hadn’t remained at the reception. “You want to stay for supper?” I asked. “Carole brought over a casserole this morning so we could all have supper together before Barry, Adel and his folks leave for Atlanta. Sort of a Christmas dinner without the turkey and the trimmings.”

  “I’ll stay,” he said, taking a bite of the candy. The aroma of peppermint filled the air. “You have some shaving cream?”

  I gave him a blank stare.

  “To decorate Barry’s car,” he said.

  “Yes. Of course. Great idea. I’ll go get it.” I started to stand.

  “Not yet,” he said, urging me to stay seated. He kept looking at me with his hot green eyes and sucking on the candy cane. I went gooey inside. “We can’t do the car until Barry gets here with it,” he added.

  Of course. How stupid of me.

  He reached out and tucked my fine blond hair behind my ear, and I thought I would melt into a puddle. I might have too, except that I heard the front door open and people clump into the front hall. “Darcy, you home?” Mama called.

  I bounded off the sofa and into the hall. “Right here,” I said, breathless. “Jason’s here too.”

  We walked back into the living room together. “Hello, Jason. So glad you’re here.” Mama turned to me. “Please help Carole in the kitchen. Adel’s gone up to change, and just as soon as everybody has had a bite to eat, they’ll get on the road.” She rubbed her temples and I saw that she looked pale.

  “You all right?”

  “Just a headache. I’m going to lie down till it passes. Long day,” she said with an apologetic smile. “But a good one.”

  Worried about Mama, I said, “I’m on it. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  “I’ll help too,” Jason offered quickly. “I’m used to my sister ordering me around the kitchen.”

  Papa came into the room and held out his hand to Mama. “Come on, Joy. Let’s get you tucked in for a spell.”

  “Please give everybody my apologies. And don’t let Adel leave without coming up to tell me goodbye,” she said over her shoulder as he led her up the stairs.

  I watched, feeling scared. “Mama’s still not over her hospital stay,” I said to Jason, trying to console myself.

  He didn’t answer, but he looked at me with a whole lot more compassion than I ever expected.

  The meal tasted good, but we all felt Mama’s absence keenly. Eventually Adel went up to finish packing, and Jason and I drifted out to the car in the driveway with cans of shaving cream. The work went fast because Barry’s father and Papa joined in and soon we had the car plastered with Just Married signs, shaving cream hearts and other graffiti suitable for the occasion. When Adel saw it, she gave a shriek, but I could tell she wasn’t too bent out of shape. Barry just shook his head and loaded Adel’s bag.

  “I want to tell Mama goodbye,” Adel said to Barry. “I’ll be right back.”

  I hadn’t been invited, but I followed her up to Mama’s room anyway. The bedroom was lit only by a night-light glowing from a wall socket, and it smelled of Mama’s lavender-scented perfume. Her dress lay in an abandoned puddle on the floor.

  “Mama?” Adel said softly.

  “I’m awake. Come in.” Mama pulled herself upright in the bed and turned on the bedside lamp.

  “You feeling better?” Adel asked, sitting down on the side of the bed. I stood behind her.

  “Better,” Mama said.

  I saw a cluster of bottles on the small table. I counted five prescription bottles and wondered if they were all for headaches.

  “We’re leaving,” Adel said.

  “You have a wonderful honeymoon and a safe trip.”

  “We’ll be back on Monday to take my things to the apartment,” Adel said. “I don’t know how much time we have left before the army sends us away. I hope it doesn’t send us too far,” she added, which I thought peculiar. For years, Adel had talked about leaving Conners behind for good. Why was she recanting?

  “You’ll never be far from my heart,” Mama said.

  Adel began to cry, and Mama pulled her into her arms. “There, there, baby girl. You go start yourself a wonderful life.”

  My sister’s tears upset me.

  “Darcy will be here,” Mama said, peering up at me.

  I nodded vigorously. “I will. I’ll be right here, Adel.”

  Adel reached for a tissue. She stood, but I could see that she was trembling. “Thank you for my wonderful wedding. I’ll never forget it.”

  She went to the door and I tagged along, because everyone was waiting downstairs with handfuls of rice and birdseed to toss at the bride and groom and I didn’t want to miss out. I could tell that Mama wanted to come for the rice-tossing ceremony but that she was hurting. She said, “You give your sister a nice send-off, Darcy, from both of us.”

  “I can come back after they’re gone,” I suggested.

  “No. Your papa will come up. He’ll be with me.” She shut her eyes and sank back down into the pillows. “Tell everyone I’m sorry I can’t join in today.”

  Adel said, “They all understand.” She had paused at the door. The lamp threw shadows beyond its circle of light. Mama looked wilted and fragile in the bed, like a new flower bud hit by a sudden frost.

  “Merry Christmas,” Adel said.

  “Merry Christmas to both of you,” Mama said.

  Out in the hallway, Adel took me by the shoulders. “You take care of her, Darcy. You’re the one with her now.”

  “Of course I will,” I said. I couldn’t understand why Adel’s leaving should be so sad for her and Mama. Not that I wouldn’t miss my sister. Surely I would! But she’d be coming for visits.

  Downstairs we put on our coats and lined up on the sidewalk. Barry and Adel ducked down and ran through our pelting of rice and seed. Barry’s folks got into the backseat of the car. The rest of us stood on the lawn and waved goodbye as they drove off, honking the horn. Not long afterward, everybody else left too. Then there was just me and Papa. He went up to be with Mama and I drifted aimlessly about the house before finally going upstairs and changing into my flannel nightgown.

  Even though I knew my parents were in their room, I felt like I was all alone. I reviewed scenes of the afternoon—the wedding ceremony, the memory of my arms around Jason, the way he had warmed my hands in his, the sight of my sister telling Mama goodbye, then Adel driving off into another life—all the memories left me unbearably, inexplicably sad. Finally I carried my new portable record player into Adel’s room, slipped between the rumpled white sheets and put on my forty-five record of Olivia Newton-John singing “I Honestly Love You.” I cried as I listened to it over and over, while sadness soaked through me like summer rain and I fell asleep in my sister’s bed.

  Sixteen

  January

  Becky Sue pumped me for every detail about the wedding. I spilled my guts, even telling her about my ride on Jason’s motorcycle. I just left out the personal part: how off-balance I felt whenever I was near him. I saw no need to open that can of worms. Soon our discussion turned to the party at Patti’s. I personally didn’t think Jason would show up, so that took a
lot of the anticipation away for me, but Becky was counting on Russell making an appearance, and I was hoping he would for her sake.

  On the home front, Mama was feeling better, and on Monday, the day before the big party, Adel and Barry picked up Adel’s belongings. They stayed for supper before driving back to Atlanta and their new apartment. Barry was to be on duty during the holiday, but before they left, Mama reminded Adel to cook traditional Southern dishes for New Year’s Day—corn bread, greens, hog jowls and black-eyed peas peppered with hot sauce. Eating jowls and peas meant a year of good luck, which all of us needed in facing 1975.

  On New Year’s Eve, Becky’s mother drove us to the party, but Becky asked her to let us off far enough from the cabin that no one would see us arriving by her mother-as-chauffeur service. We needn’t have worried. Cars were parked helterskelter on the dirt road leading to the cabin, and it was pitch dark.

  “Are you sure Patti’s parents are going to be there?” Mrs. Johnson asked when we got out of the car.

  “That’s what Patti said,” Becky Sue answered with a perfectly straight face.

  Patti already had announced to her friends that her folks had other plans that night, but they’d threatened to “drop in” and “check on us,” which no one believed for a minute.

  “I’ll be here to pick you up at twelve-thirty,” Becky’s mother said, craning her neck and checking out the line of cars. “You’re lucky your father’s allowing you to come at all. I expect you two to act like adults,” she was adding as Becky slammed the car door.

  The closer we got to the cabin, the more cars and people we saw. “I think the whole school showed up,” Becky said. “I hope I can spot Russell in this crowd.”

  Word of Patti’s party had spread far and wide, because I saw kids I didn’t recognize from schools besides ours. Couples were making out in cars, others were sitting on hoods and fenders of cars and one group even had a campfire going on the front lawn. It was still winter and cold that night to boot. But if I thought it was crowded outside the cabin, nothing prepared me for going inside. Becky and I faced wall-to-wall bodies, blaring rock music and gyrating dancers. Furniture had been shoved against the walls and area rugs rolled up. Cigarette smoke hung in the air like swamp fog.

  Becky tried to say something to me, but I couldn’t hear her above the noise. I pointed to the front door and wiggled my way back outside, where I took in great gulps of fresh air. Already, I wasn’t having a good time. Coughing because of the smoke, Becky said, “There’s beer in the kitchen.”

  “I hate beer,” I said, amazed that she could have learned that fact in the short time we’d been inside.

  “Me too. Maybe there are colas. And rum.”

  “I don’t like rum either.”

  She knew this was true, because we’d raided her father’s liquor cabinet once when we were twelve and sampled every kind of alcohol he owned. With the first couple of sips, I’d felt mellow and giggly. Then I went loopy, and after that I got sick as a dog, and so did Becky. We told our parents it was the stomach flu, but I swore to the Lord then and there that if I lived, I would never drink alcohol again. Baptists had the right idea about steering clear of the “devil’s brew,” as Pastor Jim called it.

  “Let me check around about Russell,” she said, and left me shivering on the porch. In fifteen minutes, she was back.

  “Find him?” I asked, hugging my arms for warmth.

  “He didn’t come.” She was scowling. “What do you want to do?” She sounded frustrated, as if I was responsible for spoiling her evening.

  I was about to suggest calling her mother to come and take us back home where we could eat popcorn and watch TV when two people started yelling at each other on the front lawn. We turned and saw J.T. and Donna standing toe to toe.

  “You’re cheating on me! Don’t deny it!” J.T. hollered.

  “Leave me alone. You’re drunk as a skunk!” Donna fired back.

  J.T. was weaving and bobbing and looked as threatening as a raging bull. “Not until you tell me who he is!”

  Donna turned to walk away, and J.T. grabbed her arm. “Let go of me, J.T.”

  “Not till you tell me who you’re sneaking around with behind my back. No one cheats on me!”

  Donna struggled to free her arm. “You’re hurting me. Let go.”

  He shoved her backward. “You’re a tramp.”

  “And you’re a pig.”

  “Not too much of a pig for you to take a Christmas gift from,” J.T. barked at her.

  “That piece of cheesy crap? It turned my neck green.”

  I stared openmouthed because anyone could see Donna was flirting with disaster. J.T.’s expression looked wild. “I could choke you!” He grabbed for her neck.

  Two of his friends pulled him away, saying, “Settle down, J.T. She ain’t worth it.”

  Donna didn’t seem to have the brains God gave a goat because she screeched, “You don’t own me, J. T. Rucker! I can do what I want. I can see who I want.”

  J.T. fought his friends’ hold, but he was too drunk to break free. Three of Donna’s friends wisely took her arms and dragged her off.

  “When I find the bastard, I’ll kill him!” J.T. all but screamed after her. “And you’ll be responsible. You hear me? His death will be your fault!”

  He was shouting at empty air. Everybody outside the cabin stood motionless, watching the scene play out. With a growl, he shook off his friends and staggered toward the porch. “Let me go and get out of my way. I need a beer.”

  As he lumbered toward the steps, I pulled Becky Sue to the edge of the porch and out of his path. My back brushed the railing and I held my breath. I surely didn’t want him seeing me, so certain was I that he’d have something hateful to say about Adel. I was lucky. He didn’t notice me and Becky Sue. Instead, he crashed through the front door, knocking people aside and shoving his way through the crowd. I said to Becky, “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Good idea.”

  We hightailed it down the steps and into the safety of the darkness.

  “Wow. What do you suppose brought that on?” Becky asked.

  “I wonder if it’s true,” I said. “I wonder if she’s cheating on him.”

  “Who’d be so stupid? Besides, J.T. and Donna have broken up before. They’ll be back together in a week, wait and see.” Becky flapped her arms. “I’m freezing.”

  “Me too, but I think we’d better stay out here.”

  We eventually found an unoccupied car and climbed inside to stay out of the cold and wait for Becky’s mother to show up. Russell never did surface, so the party was a bust and, except for the fracas with Donna and J.T., out of Becky’s and my league. Still, I couldn’t help wondering if J.T.’s suspicions were founded in truth or in his drunken imagination. Not that it mattered. If Donna could make J.T. suffer, then more power to her.

  In January, President Ford extended his earlier offer of clemency to Vietnam draft dodgers. This made plenty of people in our part of Georgia pretty darn mad. There was a time when I wouldn’t have noticed such things, but ever since Barry had become a part of our family, I kept myself up on world events. I read editorials in Conners’ weekly Herald-News, which didn’t usually print much more than ball scores and reports about town meetings and social affairs. However, they gave a nice big write-up to Adel’s wedding, which pleased Mama no end.

  Still, I quickly learned that if I wanted real news, I had to go to the public library and read papers from other parts of the country— The New York Times, the Atlanta Journal, the Chicago Tribune and even The Daily News from Washington, D.C. I compared stories and opinions and there was no doubt about it—the South was a whole lot angrier about the clemency offer than other places.

  Also in January, the province of Phuoc Long in South Vietnam fell to North Vietnam, which upset folks in our area even more because that meant that the Communists were encroaching farther south and that South Vietnam was losing the war. I think that to some in Conners, it was
a little like Sherman invading Georgia in the Civil War. At least that’s what Papa said whenever he returned from the barbershop or the hardware store, where he’d discuss these things with other men from our town.

  I spent hours going over Kyle’s scrapbook about his tour of duty. The photographs and his journal entries told stories that both touched my heart and horrified me.

  January 21, 1968: Khe Sanh military base, after midnight, NVA artillery scored a direct hit on our ammunition stores. Explosions keep going off. It’s like the whole world is burning down around us.

  January–February 1968: We’re busiest after dark when the NVA is most active. We need supplies, over 160 tons a day, just to keep fighting.

  February 11: Lost a C-130 Hercules Transport that was trying to land and bring us supplies. Entire crew dead.

  February ’68: The enemy shells us every day. At night we sleep in shifts. By day we dig trenches, fill sandbags and improve our bunkers. Trenches are knee-deep in mud. I’ve got foot rot because my feet are always wet. Food scarce. Two C rations per day. Rats everywhere. Frank shot one crawling on his sleeping bag and blew off part of his own foot—a mistake, but it got him out of here. Casualties daily. No mail, no nothing. Dear God, I’d give all my worldly goods for a hot shower and a clean bed.

  Choppers being sent in with supplies now. The supply choppers are preceded by Sky Hawk fighters and Huey gunships and they’re in and out in five minutes. The sweet sounds of those helicopters are the highlight of my day. I watch them swirl down, throwing winds that make trees sway and break. They take the wounded, leave supplies. The choppers rise up like great dark angels, taking my dreams of escape from this hellhole with them.

  We got pinned down today near hill 861 in a firefight. Snipers hid in trees and began to pick us off. Longest night of my life. Teddy Bryant, next to me, took one in the chest. I talked to him all night long to keep him awake, and when the choppers came to rescue us I carried him on my back to the belly of the transport. A useless waste of energy, according to the medic. Teddy was already dead.