Queenie Baby: Pass the Eggnog (7 page)

"I'd love to hear you play something," I said, breaking the spell.

His laugh turned into a harsh cough. "There's the irony," he said with a smile. "I polish it, change the strings, keep it in tune, but I never learned to play it. Never had time. Always working some angle or another trying to make more money than I knew what to do with. Came up here to spend what's left of my life in peace. Thought maybe I'd pass the time learning to play. I bought some books, but it's not been goin' so well." His expression was wry.

"Let me teach you," I said excitedly.

He sighed and gave me a sad look.

He seemed to think about it for a minute, and then said, "I was at the Grand Ole Opry in 1962." He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. "Got to see Loretta Lynn live. She didn't have nothin' on you." He pointed a gnarled finger at me.

I felt my eyes tear up. "Please, come back with us."

He stared out the window. "I never paid much mind to church teachins' in my youth. Too busy drinkin' and runnin' round with women to care. But when you're pushing eighty-three, you start thinkin' about the afterlife. Looking for signs and such," he waved his hand around. He took a ragged breath. We waited for him to continue.

"So I'm sitting here in one of the few places in this country where a man can find peace and quiet, and you show up." He looked at me.

"I'm so sorry—" I began.

He held up a hand to stop me. "Let me finish. My granddaughter knocks on my front door, walks inside, picks up the guitar I've been worshipin' for more than seventy years and plays the song my mamma played every night after my daddy left her. You know that song was released in 1938 as an instrumental only; didn't have words until 1940. Mamma preferred the instrumental, wore that record out. She used to make up her own lyrics depending on her mood."

"I can see how this could be overwhelming." I nodded sympathetically. I was a little creeped out to find out how much the song meant to him. Had I actually heard a voice whisper to me?

He stood up abruptly. He went over to the guitar and laid it in its case. Next he looked under his bed and dug out a suitcase.

"Well don't just stand there," he said, "help me pack. I ain't sittin' here waiting for lighting to strike me. No, this was sign enough for me."

I jumped up and gave him a hug. "You are going to love it—" I paused, adding, "I'm not sure what to call you."

He returned my hug awkwardly. "Suppose you could call me Granddad."

"Perfect! We're stay at the Bickling house, Granddad." I smiled, liking the way it rolled off my tongue.

He looked surprised. "Can't believe that place's still in the family."

I nodded. "Aunt Pearl's son, Jake, lives there with his wife, Victoria."

"Uh, Pearl's still alive?" he asked.

"Very much."

"Don't think she's going to be too happy to see me." He grimaced.

"It's been over fifty years. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you. I know my mom will be."

He looked worried. "This ain't going to be easy for Brandy. I've got a lot to make up for." His ragged cough ricocheted off the log walls. "Darn cold!" he added. "Been fightin' it for days now."

Bill and Kyle exchanged worried looks. Oh, God, don't let him have lung cancer, I prayed.

"Let's just take it a step at time," I said and started pulling clothes out of the dresser drawer.

Bill and Kyle carried out the guitar and a few other personal items. Granddad turned to me. "By the way, how'd you find me?"

I debated how much to tell him. I didn't want to completely freak him out. However, he'd be meeting The Grands soon enough, so I might as well get it over with. "Babs told my Mammaw that we needed to find you before it was too late. She said you'd be joining her for happy hour soon."

He stared at me blankly for a few seconds. "Babs always did love happy hour. Huh—who'd a thought it?" he asked almost to himself.

"What's that, Granddad?" I asked, shutting his suitcase.

"That there'd be a happy hour in heaven."

I thought about it for a second. Funny, I would've thought happy hours in heaven were a given.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Granddad insisted on walking to the car. He may not have been fast, but he was surefooted. I wish I could say the same. I'd face-planted twice in the snow. One of those times, I'd taken Kyle down with me. One minute he was helping tighten my snow shoe, and the next we were flapping around in three feet of snow.

We arrived at the house a few minutes before two. Hungry, wet, cold and tired, but victorious nonetheless. Bill Sprague promised to collect the rest of Granddad's things and drop them off later in the week. Granddad gave him an unsure look but didn't argue.

"I haven't set foot in that house in over fifty years," Granddad said, staring out the window. "It looks pretty good for its age. Kinda eerie, like it's been frozen in time."

I could see that. "It'll be okay," I assured him.

"What's your mom like?"

Hmmm… "Wonderful, wacky, dramatic, caring," I ticked off.

He nodded. "Sounds just like Babs."

"Why didn't you ever come back?" I asked bluntly.

Without missing a beat, he said, "Because I was drunk and selfish most my life. I woke up sober, old and lonely; figured it was my penance and didn't want to burden my daughter with my presence. Maybe I was wrong."

I patted his hand. "Well, let's make it right, c'mon."

Kyle gave me a smile as he opened the door and helped me down.

As we approached the walkway, the front door opened. A shrill voice called, "Take one more step Dub Wilson, and I'll put a bullet in your head."

We all looked up to see Aunt Pearl balancing a shot gun on the edge of her walker. She was leaning heavily against the walker, but her hands were steady.

"Put that down, Aunt Pearl," I gasped.

"Nothin' doin'," she yelled. "I'm going to do what I shoulda done a long time ago."

My mom appeared at the door behind Aunt Pearl. "Pearl what are doing with that gun?" she cried. She looked out at us.

"What's going on, Diana?" she asked. "Who's that with you?" Granddad let out a gasp. "It's her voice. She sounds just like Babs."

"Mom," I began, "maybe we should go in and sit down. Aunt Pearl put the gun down before there's an accident."

Without even a glance at Aunt Pearl, my mom whipped the gun right out of her hands. "Who's that, Diana?" she asked more warily this time.

"It's your father, Mom," I said, taking a step forward. Granddad started to follow me.

My mom let out a primal growl and brought the gun up. "I should've let Pearl shoot you!" she hissed at Granddad.

"Mom, put the gun down!" I cried. The door opened behind her and The Parents and The Grands filtered out. They uttered a collective gasp when they took in the standoff.

My stepfather walked up and wrenched the gun from my mother's grasp.

"What happened to the caring part?" Granddad said out of the corner of his mouth.

"Give her time," I replied, watching my mom collapse into Dave's arms. "Remember, you've got a lot of making up to do."

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

It took an hour and spiked eggnog all round for everyone to calm down and come to terms with the long-lost Dub Wilson appearing on the doorstep. The Grands, with the exception of Aunt Pearl, welcomed him the way kids on a playground welcomed the new kid. A little abrasive at first, but excited to have a new person to tell all their old stories to. The Parents, with the exception of my mom, warmed up after hearing Granddad's story and his heartfelt desire to make things right.

I went into the kitchen to get another round of drinks and found Ashley with a half empty bottle of wine on the counter. She raised her glass to me.

"What's up with you?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Once again you ruined my plans," she hissed. "All I wanted was a nice family Christmas. To watch movies, bake cookies, and put on a Christmas play. But noooo, Diana wasn't having it."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "How did I ruin your Christmas? I've done nothing!"

She waved her wine glass towards the living room. "You just had to go bringing home long-lost Granddad out there! For what?" she asked. "To upset Mom? To give us yet another Grand to take care of?"

Wow, that was cold even for Ashley. "One more Grand to take care of? Are you kidding? That's our grandfather out there, and he's sick! I know Mom's upset, but you have to see this as a good thing for her."

Ashley shook her head. "I really don't, and he looks pretty spry to me. But you think bringing the man who abandoned her as a child and left her with Aunt Pearl after her mother died is a great idea? Wrong! He's a bad person. Why should we want him in our lives?"

I sighed. "What about redemption and forgiveness? Jeez, Ashley, it's Christmas after all! It's not about cookies and carols. If you can't find enough Christmas spirit to give your own grandfather a chance, then maybe you'd better take a hard look at yourself."

"Don't preach to me about Christmas spirit! You're the worst Grinch ever. You hate Christmas."

She had me there. "Well, people can change. I may not like all the trappings of Christmas, but this trip has made me appreciate the magic of it, the way it puts people in a certain frame of mind." I found myself actually believing the words as I said them. Pretty incredible stuff for a humbug like me. "I'm glad we're here together. This was a great idea, Ashley," I said, offering her an olive branch.

 That seemed to mollify her. She took a sip of wine. "I'm not happy he's here, but he
is
our grandfather, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt."

I felt her thawing, so I went in for the kill. "Think there's still time to watch
White Christmas
?"

She smiled. "Of course, we'll just fast forward to all the good scenes. Wait 'til you see the dresses I found for us at the thrift shop today!" She clapped her hands together.

"Can't wait," I mumbled under my breath as she hurried out of the kitchen to get the troops ready for the movie.

I made a fresh batch of eggnog, adding a generous amount of rum, and grabbed another tray of cookies. Victoria must have elves baking for her at night.

The gang was already situated in front of the TV. The Grands were clustered together swapping stories with Granddad. Aunt Pearl was keeping her distance, but I could tell she wasn't missing a word. Uncle Grover had just asked Granddad about how the house restoration compared with the old house.

Kyle gave me a smile and patted the seat next to him on the sofa.

"It don't look like it's changed much to me. Kind of weird coming back to the house years later and everything looking the same," Granddad replied.

"You got rocks in your head!" Aunt Pearl snapped. "Victoria and Jake have done a great job updating this place. Why this house used to be so drafty, you couldn't light a candle."

Granddad nodded. "Oh, they've made a lot of improvements. But I do miss a few things." He glanced in Aunt Pearl's direction. "Remember how you girls were always measuring yourselves in the doorway. Must've been a hundred marks." He laughed.

Aunt Pearl acted like she didn't hear him, but I saw her eyes go to the doorway.

"Can't rightly picture Pearl young," Granddaddy Hacker guffawed.

"Shut your mouth, Hacker." Aunt Pearl gave him an evil look.

"Oh, Pearl and Babs were quite the lookers," said Granddad.

Granddaddy Hacker leaned over and put his hand to his ear. "They were hookers, you say?"

It was Ashley's turn to chastise him. "Not nice, Granddaddy."

"Is it like this all the time?" Kyle whispered.

I raised my eyebrows. "No," I said, "usually it's worse."

He laughed and patted my knee. Uh-oh, I thought looking at his hand. I didn't want him getting any "under the eaves" ideas.

Granddad had a long, hacking coughing spell which drew concerned looks from everyone. "We'd all been playmates for years, but the first time I saw Babs in a fancy dress at a high school dance it was all over for me. She was like a bad little angel. All blond and pretty, with an ornery streak a mile wide. 'Member that time she brought a jug of your daddy's moonshine to the church social, Pearl?"

For the first time, Pearl's lips turned up in a smile. "We were sick for a week after that." She shook her head at the memory. "Babs was something else. Always gettin' me in trouble."

"Yep, fifty years, and not a day goes by that I don't miss her," he said sadly and turned to me. "I'm so glad you found me."

"Me, too," my mom said from the doorway.

Aunt Pearl got to her feet and held out her arms. My mom went to her and laid her head on her shoulder. "You always said family's family even if they're a bunch of knot-heads."

Aunt Pearl sighed and released my mom. "Guess I did. Just never figured I'd have to see that knot-head again." She hooked a finger at Granddad. "But he seems like he mighta got some sense in his old age," she acknowledged grudgingly.

They both looked at Granddad. He opened his arms, and my mom went to him, tears flowing. For about five minutes there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

Then Granddaddy Hacker said, "Stop all this caterwaullin'! Aren't we supposed to be practicing for the play tomorrow?"

My sister jumped into action, dimming the lights and cuing the movie. I blew my nose on a tissue Kyle handed me and took another gulp of eggnog.

"Boy, there's never a dull moment with your family, is there?"

I shook my head. "Never."

"Okay, everyone. Attention please," Ashley commanded.

"Oh, brother," I mumbled under my breath.

"So just to recap, we are putting on a play tomorrow night showcasing several of the big musical numbers from
White Christmas
. Diana and I will be performing the 'Sisters' routine. Dan and Kyle will follow us immediately with the drag-version of the same song. Then Dan and I will perform the dance between Danny Kaye and Vera-Ellen entitled 'The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing.' Next up will be The Grands performing 'Gee, I Wish I Was Back in the Army.'" She took a breath. "We'll end with a sing-a-long to 'White Christmas,' mimicking the closing scene of the movie. You will need to practice the dance numbers on your own this afternoon." She gave us all a stern look. "Because dress rehearsal's at seven tonight so we have time to make changes if needed. Any questions?"