Finally the day arrived and the whole town was just buzzing and bustling with activity. I was cooking up some of Mama's chicken delish and looking out the kitchen window, and I could see Daddy rushing between the house and the church, sending folks off with chairs and tables and extra supplies and giving orders to everybody. I could see the stream of cars going down our street to the Dooleys' store for some sugar or eggs or flour so folks could make up their picnic specialties, and I could see Grace and Boo taking the shortcut to Adrienne's with a bag of charcoal between them, dropping it every few feet.
By eleven o'clock we were ready to go, and me and Daddy grabbed up Mama's chicken delish and the jug of iced tea and stuff and hopped in the car. Daddy was wanting to get over to Adrienne's before the Cobb sisters. Miss Becky and Miss Anna, had a chance to start up the grill, so we were speeding along fast as we could.
By the time we pulled onto Adrienne's freshly mowed field, the fire was already going. Problem was, it wasn't in the grill.
'Course we didn't know what was going on at first. All we could see was Miss Becky chasing Miss Anna round and round. She had her accordion in her hands and was squeezing it in and out and holding it up in this peculiar way, like she was about to clobber Miss Anna over the head with it.
Grace and Boo were there, too, jumping up and down and shouting something. We couldn't tell what till Daddy pulled up onto the edge of the lawn and we both jumped out of the car. Then we could hear, clear as clear, Grace and Boo yelling, "Stop, drop, and roll! Stop, drop, and roll!"
Mad Joe was coming round the corner of the house with a hose in his hand, and the two Cobb sisters just kept screaming and running round in circles. That's when I noticed that Miss Anna's braid was on fire and I realized Miss Becky was trying to put it out with the air from her accordion.
Daddy must have realized what was going on about the same time as I did, 'cause he right away dove into the backseat of the car and pulled out the fat jug of iced tea. Then he charged after the sisters, unscrewing the lid and tossing it behind him as he went. When he caught up to them he held tight to the handle and the bottom of the jug and flung the iced tea at Miss Anna. By then Mad Joe had come along with the hose and he was spraying her and Daddy both, and Miss Anna just stood under the shower of iced tea and water, flapping her arms and kicking out her legs. She didn't stop screaming until Daddy yelled at Mad Joe and Mad Joe dropped the hose. Then, after a polite "Thank you. Able, thank you, Joe," she turned to Miss Becky and shouted, "It's out now, Sister, you can put down the accordion. Becky! I said it's out. Stop puffing that thing at me, it's out."
Daddy set down the jug, kicked his wet leg out to the side like a dog, and pointed his finger at the two women. "When you came by to pick up the grills this morning, what did I say to you?"
"I know—we heard you, Able, but you know Sister, here," Miss Anna said. "I turned my back for just a minute and she managed to set it on fire."
"You said to light the grill," Miss Becky replied, her accordion dangling from her hand like all the spirit had gone out of the thing.
"I said, 'Don't light the grill. 'Don't light the grill. Don't!"
"Oh," said Miss Becky.
After Daddy helped Miss Anna to her car so she could go home and change, we started up the grills and set up the food tables the Dooleys had dropped off.
Then folks started to arrive, and I could tell by the way they were calling out their windows, and kids and dogs were piling out of cars and hopping off the backs of pickups before they had even stopped moving, that every one of them was just as charged with excitement as I was. It was like we were welcoming home a famous explorer; and maybe that's what Adrienne was, 'cause nobody we knew had ever sat in the dark doing nothing for a whole month before.
Daddy was telling everybody where to park and where to put their food and who should be doing what; and Mad Joe was giving his own directions 'cause he didn't want anyone parking too near the house, where he had planted an herb garden as a surprise for Miss Adrienne. And looking at him all clean-shaven and proud and not drunk at all, I wondered at folks calling him Mad.
I stood over the grill and watched to see that the fire didn't get out of control again, and every single body had to stop by to ask me about Mama. Had I heard from her lately? When was she coming home? Didn't we all just miss her so? After hearing the same old questions a million times I got to understanding why Daddy blew up at Grace. I wanted to send every one of those nosy-bodies off to memorize the whole Bible—frontwards and backwards.
I saw Old Higgs Holkum arrive with Sharalee and her family in their truck. Daddy allowed them to back into the driveway, and I knew that meant that Mr. Marshall had loaded up the coffin.
Now, no amount of arguing with Sharalee was going to convince me that a coffin turned into an ice chest wasn't about the tackiest thing going. Mrs. Marshall said it was promoting the business to keep a coffin in the truck bed, and why not put it to good use while they were about it. 'Course she was just pleased 'cause she could feed her husband up right proper with his own ice chest in the back. He wouldn't have to be stopping at any of those cheap restaurants with the floozy waitresses when he went on his trips to Birmingham and Mobile. He could just set in his truck and have a feed right from the coffin.
I watched as Daddy, Old Higgs, and Mr. Marshall hauled the monster out of the truck and set it on one of the food tables.
"What's in it this time?" I asked Sharalee when she caught up to me.
"Catfish and cola, and don't start in on me about it, okay?"
"Don't you get tired of being reminded of death everywhere you go? I mean, it looks like we're at a wake here."
"Don't you get tired of being reminded of God everywhere you go?"
"No," I said.
"Well, then?"
Somehow I missed the connection, but I didn't have much time to think about it 'cause Miss Tuney Mae had arrived in her old Fleetwood and was yelling her usual "Hey, y'all, come get me out of this contraption."
Daddy pointed at me and Sharalee, and as we headed for the car Sharalee said, "See what I mean? You always have to be the good girl and go fetch Looney Tuney, 'cause God is watching you."
"Sharalee, just hush," I said. "And anyways, Daddy's not God."
"Says who?"
"Well, girls, how nice of you to help me," Miss Tuney Mae said, holding out her arms and waiting for us to pull her out. And we did, we yanked and pulled and hoisted her, and we finally got her out of her seat. Even if she is all bones, she's deadweight.
She stood up and looked around, fanning herself with her straw hat. "Ain't it a scorcher already? I can hardly breathe through all this heat. It's like I got a plug-a cotton jammed up my nose."
I knew I was going to feel guilty for the heat all day, what with the summer picnic really being my idea, and if Miss Tuney Mae dropped dead from it, it would be all my fault.
"How 'bout I fetch you a cola. Miss Tuney Mae," I offered as we guided her toward the tables so she could set down her bag filled with the world's best tea cakes you'd ever hope to eat. They looked like fat cookies and tasted like heaven, not too sweet, so you could just keep eating them one after another and never get sick, and never get sick of them.
"Cola? Where's the cola? I don't see any cola."
"Over yonder." Sharalee pointed at the coffin.
I squeezed Miss Tuney Mae's arm and held her up extra good just in case she saw the coffin and dropped dead from the heat and the sight of death staring back at her.
She nodded her head. "A Co-Cola would be nice, thank you, Sharalee."
Sharalee gave me a look of ha, ha, and then headed for the coffin.
Miss Tuney Mae turned to me. "Charity, you can fetch me my chair. Here's the key. It's in the trunk. You just set it up under that tree yonder with the Dunn twins, and I'll be there directly I've put these cakes down and had a little chat with Sharalee's mama."
I was happy to do anything I could to make sure Miss Tuney Mae was comfy and cool, so
I got the chair out of the trunk and headed out toward Mad Joe's daughters. I was uneasy about going out to them 'cause they had to be two of the strangest people I had ever met. They were in my class at school until Mad Joe took them out and let them be home-schooled. Both of them had sickle-cell anemia and were home sick more than they were ever at school anyway. Still they were the smartest two people I knew. The kids at school called them the Encyclopedia Sisters, and their ways did kind of keep people at a distance, but they never seemed to mind. Long as they had each other, no one else much mattered.
"Hey, Vonnie. Hey, Velita," I said, setting down Miss Tuney Mae's chair and flopping into it. Law, it was a hot day.
"Hello, Charity. How are you this fine day?" Vonnie asked. She was the twin who talked. It was the only way I could tell them apart. The other one mumbled.
I nodded and pointed out to where their father was showing folks his herb garden. "Your daddy sure seems to be doing splendid today."
Vonnie's face lit up. "Yes, it's a mighty fine day for Papa."
"Only drunk six times this month," Velita mumbled.
"He's done a real good job on the fields here and, well, I haven't heard him out shooting at anything in a long time," I said.
"No, he's had to take care of Sister here, she's had one of our spells, you know."
I looked Velita up and down. Of the two she did look the yellowest; even under their dark skin I could see it. Usually they had skin like their mama's, as black as a blue plum; but now the yellow was taking over, and they had lots of sores on their legs. To look at those sores made my stomach kind of queasy.
I looked out at the picnic instead and saw my daddy shouting at some young'uns getting too close to the grills.
"So, did your daddy put you in the hospital again?" I asked. I was asking Velita, but I knew it would be Vonnie who answered.
"Oh, no, he's through with doctors. They can't cure us, you know."
"They can just kill us," Velita mumbled.
"But can't they help the pain and alleviate aggravations and such?"
Vonnie shook her head. "We don't need them for that, we've learned to do that with our minds."
"Uh-huh." See, they always started talking over my head eventually. A Frisbee landed at my feet and I bent over, picked it up, and tossed it back out toward the crowd.
"We overcome pain with prayer. Charity. You understand?" Vonnie shaded her eyes with her hand and looked at me. "Papa can't stand to see our pain. He's afraid of it, I think. He looks at it as if it's a separate living thing, a monster he has to slay. Understand?"
I nodded. "I reckon I do," I said. I wondered what Sharalee was saying to the right handsome Billy Gumm. She knew I liked him, and there the two of them were rolling cold soda cans across their foreheads and laughing with each other, and they weren't even noticing that the table with the coffin setting on it was starting to sink.
"We try not to let him know we're suffering."
I brought my mind back to what Vonnie was saying.
"People think he goes off on his drinking binges because of Mama's death, but really it's because he's afraid."
I glanced sideways at the twins. Anytime someone mentioned Datina's death I wondered if they got the same giggly feeling inside that I did. It wasn't funny, really it wasn't, 'cause after she died Mad Joe did take a turn for the worse and so did the twins; but see, the way Miss Tuney Mae tells it, how Datina died of claustrophobia in a Porta Potti at the Peanut Festival, well, she makes it sound awful funny when it wasn't at all, I'm sure.
"I'm sorry, Vonnie, Velita. I am." And I was.
"He's afraid of us dying," Velita said.
I stared bug-eyed at Velita. I'd never heard her speak so loud, but then again Miss Becky was getting dose with her accordion and Velita was having to talk over "Love Makes the World Go Round," the only song Miss Becky knew.
"He doesn't understand we're ready. He's looking for some miracle to save lis, but we want to be with Mama. Don't we, Sister?" Velita took her sister's hand in hers.
Vonnie nodded. "Take my body who will, it is not me.'"
"Huh?"
"From Moby Dick, did you ever read it?"
"No, not lately," I said, thinking it was time I got back to the picnic.
Vonnie kissed her sister's knuckles and said, "'Methinks my body is but the lees of my better being. In fact take my body who will, take it I say, it is not me.'"
I nodded and tried to change the subject so I could leave without them thinking I was wanting to get away from their death talk, which I was. "Well, your daddy's done a splendid job here."
"Yes." Vonnie's voice was brighter. "You know he's put in a vegetable garden out back. Papa says Miss Adrienne's going to need those vegetables after her fasting all month on water and fruit juice."
"Probably had diarrhea all month," Velita mumbled.
"I wonder if she even remembers there's going to be a picnic," I said.
"Oh yes," Vonnie said. "You know, every day she slipped a piece of paper under the door just to let Papa know she was all right. If there was no paper, then Papa was to use the key she gave him and go in and get her. He's got thirty pieces of paper in his pocket."
"Really?" I was surprised Adrienne would trust Mad Joe to even be there every day, and I was a little hurt that she didn't make the arrangement with me instead. After all, I was the one who sat out on her back porch one whole afternoon, drinking iced coffee and eating grapes and learning about being an artist. I was the artistic one. I was the soul of her soul.
"Yes, really," Vonnie said. "Today, Papa slipped a paper under her door telling her what day it was and that the picnic was to take place as planned and that he would come get her out at noon exactly. And look at Papa. He keeps checking his watch and strutting around. This is a big day for him. He hasn't been this lively since before Mama died."
Vonnie looked down at her watch. Velita looked down at hers. "Just fifteen minutes and Papa will go let her out."
I stood up. I had always imagined I would be the one to let Adrienne out. I could see it, her barely able to walk from a month of deprivation, and having to lean on me as I escorted her outside, where folks would be running up and gathering round. It was going to be a great moment, and now that moment was going to be Adrienne's and Mad Joe's.
"I reckon I'll start over there so I won't miss all the excitement," I said to the twins. "Y'all coming?"
"No, thank you. Charity, we'll wait here. Daddy will fetch us directly."
I left the twins and headed back to the crowd. I saw Mad Joe look at his watch and then start trotting out toward me. He nodded when he passed but went on to fetch his daughters.
Daddy had the spatula in his hand and was banging it on the side of the grill. He had an announcement to make, he said. I hurried to catch up with the others.
Daddy quoted Scripture, saying what Miss Tuney Mae had said about turning the other cheek and how Jesus said we must not forgive a person once or even seven times, we must forgive seventy times seven; and everyone clapped and Miss Becky started up "Love Makes the World Go Round" again and Daddy shouted above it all, "It is now time for me to let Miss Adrienne out."
I tried to call to him. I tried to push through the folks and past the tables to tell him about Mad Joe, but it was too late. Daddy was pounding on the door. And, law, how the folks were cheering and gathering round Daddy. I looked back and I saw Mad Joe half running and half slowing down to stay in step with his daughters. He was shouting something, but no one could hear. They were too busy shouting, "Surprise!" Adrienne had come out of her house!
4
Adrienne came out before I even had a chance to turn back around. And when I did, there she was, squinting and laughing and hugging folks like she had known them for years. And they were hugging her back and laughing and saying "Welcome" and "Surprise" over and over again, and Miss Becky was playing "Love Makes the World Go Round." Then they grabbed Adrienne away from Daddy and led her out toward the picnic tables. Adrienn
e was stepping carefully 'cause she was barefoot and the grass was dry and sharp. She was looking around like she had lost something. Then she saw Mad Joe and waved and he waved back, smiling and motioning for her to go on with the group that was pulling her to the tables. And I was tagging along behind everybody, feeling just like Macy, the Dooleys' three-legged dog.
They let Adrienne go first through the line and everyone else lined up behind her with their paper plates. And they were shouting and showing off to Adrienne, saying how she had to try their fresh tomato-bean salad, or their corn pudding, or whatever. And Adrienne was loading up her plate and saying how she had had enough fruit juice to last her a lifetime and how food never looked so good. This pleased everybody so much they insisted she didn't look pale or thin or anything, when really she did.
I piled up my plate with a stack of Mrs. Marshall's cornbread, the corn pudding, one of Old Higgs's catfish, some of Miss Tuney Mae's tea cakes, and a cup of Mattie-Lynn Pettit's iced tea, 'cause hers was always made with extra sugar and not too much lemon.
Everyone had already filled in the seats next to Adrienne, so I had to go sit at one of the children's tables with Sharalee, all the Dooleys' young'uns, and Vonnie and Velita.
"Hey, Vonnie, Velita, sorry about your daddy and all," I said, ashamed to look at them.
"It's all right. Charity, he's sitting with her now," Vonnie said, smiling.
I twisted around to see and got an earful of laughter and applause and, law, I was wishing I was sitting over there.
I turned back around. "So anyway, how do you like taking your schooling at home?" I asked them, trying to keep my mind busy.
"We like it fine when we're feeling well, but it's lonely," said Vonnie. "Why don't you and Sharalee come visit us?"
I looked over at Sharalee, who was giving me a now-you've-done-it look, and then back at Vonnie.
"Sorry, Vonnie. I guess it's because—I don't know why—your daddy and all, I guess."