Comfort and Joy (17 page)

At the cemetery, a vapor trail vanished upward from the furnace flue, and in the front yard Ray puttered in fur-lined slippers, wrapped in his winter coat. Poinsettia pots had overturned throughout the memorial garden, and he held two of the damaged pots aloft toward her. "The wind broke the flowers off. It's gustingprettygood out here."

"Whichones were they?"
"Willis Palmer and the little Harveygirl."
"The wind gets pretty bad over there because there's no

hedge. Youshould let me plant some hedge like I want to." The family opened gifts that ran the gamut of the expected.
Danny needed disks for his computer and got two boxes. Amy
liked gold chains, and Danny and Ellen had bought her one. Ray
could always use another tool for his woodshop and received
two this year.
But this year there were Ford's gifts as well, lavish by family
standards, thoughno one said a word. Infact, Ellenfound herself
only mildly surprised at the cashmere sweater forAmy, the silver
pen for Ray, the He-Man castle for Jason; and the lovely wool pen for Ray, the He-Man castle for Jason; and the lovely wool jacket in the box marked with her name surprised her in a
pleasingifuncertainway.
The discomfort of the moment might have passed quickly if
she had not noticed Danny's uneasiness. She lay the jacket
tenderly across the back of the couch, and Danny rose from his
seat, ostensibly for coffee since he carried his cup; but Ford
watched himleave.

When the phone rang, as she fried the last of the breakfast ham, the sound of another son's distant voice disarmed her completely. Duck said, "Hey, Mom, I bet you can't guess who this is,"and she felt warmthflood her and sat downat once.

"You didn't think I'd call, did you? I must've scared you better than I thought." His deep voice, resembling so much the gravelly tones ofhis father, raised the hair onthe back ofher neck.

"Allen hasn't come yet, but he should be on his way by now. Himand Cherise are driving fromAsheville. You know they live inAsheville now."

She laughed and said, "I'msurprised you can't hear him. He's playinginthe other room. He's had hima bigChristmas so far."
"I ordered him a little Indian poncho out of a catalog, but I didn't do it tillyesterday, so God knows whenhe'llget it."
She pressed the receiver against her ear so hard it hurt. The hollow sound of distance had begun to swallow his voice. "Are hollow sound of distance had begun to swallow his voice. "Are you going to do anything special for Christmas? Do you have someplace to eat?"
"Oh, yeah. I got friends out here. Don't worry about me. I even got me a Christmas card, frommy job. I'mhaving me a big old time."
"I'm glad you won't be by yourself." She felt herself begin to dissolve a little. "Where are you? Are you still in that place in New Mexico?"
"That's right."
"But youwon't give me your address."
"Mama, now let's don't start all that. All right?" The line went silent for a moment. "I better go, before I run up this phone bill. It ain't mine. Now look, Merry Christmas and all that stuff. All right? I'll talk to you soon." He sounded suddenly a little sad himself.
"Please callme soon."
"I will."
She knew she would like to cry and refused to allow herself the luxury. The others appeared in the doorway, apparently drawn by the sound of her voice and the silence surrounding the conversation. Rayasked, "Was that Duck?"
"That was him."
"I told youhe would call,"Amysaid.
"I need to sit stillfor a minute."
"I don't think he's in New Mexico," Danny said, "not calling this early."
Ellen laughed. "That's exactly what I was thinking— you're suspicious like I am." Standing, surveying them all, and neatly flipping the ham in the frying pan. "Now you all go about your business, I'mnot goingto have a fit or anything."

On Christmas morning, as she had for years in kitchens in many houses, she prepared turkey, dressing, pies, gravies, and the veil to the past thinned. Today she knew she was in the kitchen of the house at the back of the Gardens of Calvary (she never called it anything but a house), but at certain moments she went hazy on the year. Or, with her hand plunged deep into the turkey, she went blurry on which kitchen counter it was; maybe she stood at the steel sink in the house behind the restaurant in Potter's Lake, or maybe in the little yellow house beside the railroad depot and the dock where the lime barges loaded.
ABrunswick stew recipe fromher mother-in-law, Mrs. Crell, two pages ofclose, faded writing on yellowed paper, neat letters not very well practiced, recorded either by the mother-in-law herselfor byone ofher daughters, and gravelyhanded to Ellenin the first year of her marriage, almost as a trust. Icebox fruitcake, made of graham cracker softened with egg and sugar, raisins, coconut, candied fruits, and pecans gathered from the yard. A confection like candy, and Ellen always remembered to say, "Danny likes this as much as I do. Allen likes it pretty good too, but Danny really likes it." While she made the cake, shaped it with her hands, to something that would fit the refrigerator, where it would set untilChristmas Day.
At some point, she also said, "When I was little, I swore my childrenwould have better Christmases thanI did."The audience for this one did not matter as much. But she said it.
After she had been cooking for a while, she sat on the sofa next to Amy and closed her eyes. Afeeling of peace rose in her like a tide, the sounds ofher children, the gentleness ofthe day.
"Poor Mama, allshe ever does is cook,"Amysaid.
"I'mallright."Then she drifted again, feelingAmy pass by, her voice added to those in the inner room, hearing something like
Nanna and Grandpa are asleep out there, don't make too much noise,
and the low muttering of the television, the distant
much noise,
and the low muttering of the television, the distant calls ofbirds.
Her inner clock notified her when the rest must end. The kitchen awaited her as she had left it, oven ablaze, cooking utensils laid out on the counters, chopping block carefully cleaned. Fromthe television in the outer roomcame the music of the holiday. Ellen sang along with the carol in a low tone, occasionally studying the highway to determine whether Allen was on it. The kitchen brightened with the lengthening of day. The angle of light, the image of the cemetery beyond the window, and the vision of her hands, preparing food as she had done all her life; all was peaceful, as far as she could tell. The boys built their tower of plastic blocks; Amy smoked and daydreamed; Ray absorbed television. Whatever Danny felt, he kept hidden, as he had always done. Soon Allen and Cherise arrived, and the house felt full and noisy. Allen Crell was the handsomest of her sons, with his father's strong build and square-boned face; his hair was lighter and finer than Danny's, his body thicker, his skin coarsened by golf-course sun. As a branch manager for a bank, he carried himself with the air of a squire. Cherise was a perfect match for him, fresh and pretty. Once introductions were made, Allen asked, in his booming voice, "Mama, are youcooking? Youbetter be."
Amyand Cherise set the table. The good Lenoxchina she had bought herself was handed out of the cabinet carefully. The pair had set her table before and did a fair job, using cloth napkins and good stainless flatware, and when she inspected their work she thought the table looked pretty, eventhoughthe dinner plates were a trifle large.
"There's plenty of room," Cherise said, using her sweetest voice. "We're all family." Though she said this with a hair of hesitation.
"That's right, we're all family,"Amy agreed. "We'll sit on top ofeachother."
Meanwhile Ellen brewed tea, checked the progress of the dressing, transferred food to serving dishes and, when all was ready, retrieved the last items baking in the oven. At the last moment she scanned the kitchen, which was soon to become a dining room, and with that in mind she covered the stove burners with their metal covers, changed dirty kitchen towels for clean ones, fluffed the curtains at the windows, and, briefly, opened the back door to clear the air.
The arrangement of bodies at the table became, with the addition ofAllen and Cherise, even more ludicrous than the night before. Serving would have deteriorated into a total comedy except that Ellen had already anticipated the difficulty and simply served everyone herself.
The men finished their meal first and departed from the table, while the women lingered over smidgens of collards and stuffing with gravy. Danny appeared at a loss as to where he fit, and drifted somewhere between. Finally he came to rest leaning in the doorwaybeside the refrigerator.
He had the look on his face which she remembered most clearly from his boyhood—a layer of calm over a layer of fear, and the sense that even when motionless he was attempting to recede. She stood beside him and slipped her arm around his waist. He acknowledged her presence, but his attention remained focused on his brother, Allen, beside Ford in the living room.
"Seems odd." He spoke in a tone meant to reach only as far as her hearing. "Doesn't it?"
"It's what youwanted,"she said.
"Oh, yes. I know that."
Fromthe couch, Allen said, "What are you two talking about up there?"
"None of your business, I have secrets with Danny just like I have secrets withyou."
"Well I guess it's all right then."Allen smoothed hair that had strayed over his forward bald spot. "At least you finally got out ofthat kitchen."
Ford said, "My mother doesn't cook on Christmas, but that's probablyjust as well."
probablyjust as well."
Allen laughed. Ellen said, "Ford, you shouldn't talk about your mother like that."
"Oh, it's true. I love her to death, but the only meal she cooks is Christmas breakfast, and that's enough."
"Do you have somebody who cooks for you?" Allen asked, then grimaced and amended, "I mean, does your mama have somebodywho cooks for her?"
"Yes, she does, thank God."Generallaughter.
"Is that true?"Allen asked, turning to Danny, "Does she really cook that bad?"
The question hovered in all innocence through the silence that followed. "I don't know." Danny's air, as he spoke, communicated muchmore.
Ford said, "They've never met,"ina smallvoice.
The awkward moment passed. Ford and Allen returned to a discussion ofgolf, and Allen, who always traveled with his clubs, offered to show the set to Ford. They piled on coats and stepped outside and soon could be seen through the front blinds, Ford testing the swing of a club, Allen standing to one side, cigarette behind his ear. Ellen settled the blinds back into place. Cherise appeared in the doorway, asking where Ellen kept her little plastic containers, for what was left ofthe collards. Thenshe looked around. "Where's Allen?"
"ShowingFord his golfclubs."
Cherise eyed the doorwaysuspiciously. "ShowingFord?"
She found the kitchen mostly set to rights. The collards were hardly worth saving so she got a fork and finished them, solving the problem of the plastic container. Amy and Cherise leaned against the countertops.
"It just seems odd,"Cherise was saying. "That's allI meant."
"He's a reallynice guy."Amylooked vaguelyirritated.
"Who, Ford?"Ellenasked.
"Who, Ford?"Ellenasked.
"Yes, ma'am. I was just telling Amy that it sure seems odd having him here for Christmas. When it's usually just family, I mean."
Amy started to speak but held her tongue. Ellen studied Cherise. "You don't think there's anything wrong with it, do you?"
"Well, it's not in the Bible."She stopped there, abruptly. Amy and Ellen watched and waited, forcing her to continue. "It's Danny's business what he does withhis life, I guess."
Ellen lowered her voice slightly. "I don't exactly know what youmean. We allgot used to youwhenyouwere new."
"Yes, ma'am."Cherise swallowed.
Afterward Ellen rinsed dishes in the sink, stacking themneatly in the drainer. Suddenly the rooms had the feeling of imminent parting, as Cherise, maybe angry at what Ellen had said, asked about the time and reminded Allen that they would need to be leaving soon, if they were going to get to her parents' house by dark. Amy noted that she should go home soon too, since Jason's dad was coming to pick himup. "I'mglad he's sleeping a little bit, I don't think he got a whole lot ofrest last night."
Silence, rest, peace among the family and good will on earth, like a moment of carol. Only the slight irritation of the conversation with Cherise, and soon she would be gone. Ellen was satisfied. The rest was beyond anyone's control, as far as she could see.