Unto These Hills (32 page)

“Oh!” I grabbed her hand. “Got somebody I want you to see.” I pulled her along, searching the crowd till I spotted him toting stacked used paper plates and cups to the corner garbage can. He’d just dumped them when I called to him.

“Daniel,” I grabbed his hand and tugged him around. “Look who’s here!”

His face lit up like the Fourth of July, Christmas, and Easter. “Gladys!”

Gladys peered at him from her one good eye, puzzled. “Who’re you?”

“Daniel!”
we both cried together.

Her mouth flew open and she squealed “Lord’a mercy
! My good-looking feller!”

They flung themselves into each other’s arms and laughed and rocked forever, till tears ran from their eyes. Finally, Gladys pushed him back to take a better look. “You ain’t changed a lick. Still handsome as ever. No.
More
good-looking
,
ain’t he, Sunny?”

“Yep,” I managed to say without getting too weak-kneed. The trick was to not look too closely at Daniel. And to not
think.
“He just moved back in with Doretha.”

“Come home, huh?” Gladys said, shaking her head thoughtfully. “You always was a good boy, Daniel. Like my own young-un.”

Red began to creep up Daniel’s neck but he lifted his chin and said solemnly. “You’re like the mama I never had, Gladys. And I mean that.”

By now, Gladys’ good eye began to roam back and forth between Daniel and me and I knew memories of the past stirred, as did her curiosity about our present feelings for each other. “How’s Walter,” she asked, never the subtle one. Always the moral,
upright
one.

“He’s fine, Gladys,” I said, smiling, feeling gloriously innocent. “Ornery as ever. Nah, just kiddin’. Come on, let’s go find him.”

Daniel stayed behind. I felt his gaze trailing me.

~~~~~

At dusk, some of the youngsters ventured outside to gallivant on the lawn.

“Look at them,” Emaline nudged me. I glanced out the window and saw my niece, Gale, doing a cartwheel, followed by Doretha’s daughter, Tammy, who sprawled on her fanny, drawing howls and hoots from her cousins. She scrambled up, mouth grimly determined, and hurled herself into an equally doomed spiral of limbs. I saw Gladys outside watching them, as captivated by gymnastics as ever.

The years dropped away and I was a young girl again, hurtling myself fearlessly through the air….

In a heartbeat, I was through the door and outside. I helped Tammy to her feet. “Here, watch me, honey,” I said. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

In the next instant my flat palms struck grassy sod and my feet flew up, up, up directly above me. In that heartbeat, suspended upside down, blood flooding my cranium, I felt every bone in my body shift
— Oh God! I’m not a young girl anymore —
till gravity eased and my feet completed the orbit and struck earth once more.

I concealed my trauma behind a wide, wide smile, dusted my hands together and blinked back a plague of black blotches. Fact was, I felt every
second
of my advancing age. The jolt of it felt lethal.

I glimpsed Daniel, hands in pockets, ankles crossed, propped against a distant wall, shadowed so I couldn’t make out his features. My heart, just beginning to stabilize, did another drum roll. Then he stepped forward into the glow of a nightlight and I saw the big old grin that stretched from ear to ear, the
I know
one

Applause erupted. “Yooo, Nana!” hollered Jason, chest puffed-up like a rooster at sunrise.

“Walter,” Lee Roy crowed, “did ye see that? The ol’ girl’s still got it, ain’t she?”

Walter grinned proudly and surprised me with a jaunty thumbs-up. I glimpsed the handsome, long ago Walter and my eyes misted. He’d been slowing down too much lately to suit my peace of mind. I figured that, like with me, advancing age was the culprit.

I laughed and gave him a thumbs-up, too.

I owed him so much.

~~~~~

Sheila never showed up for Gracie’s party.

“I’m still havin’ dizzy spells, Sunny,” her voice slurred a bit when I called her the next day. “Headaches, too.”

Unease slithered through me. “I’m sorry, honey. We missed you. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Nah. You’ve got your hands full with that newspaper column and taking care o’ Walter and all. Dr. Hanna’s prescribed me painkillers and a bunch of other stuff to try and stop all this crap. If it don’t, he’s gonna order an MRI.” She gave a silly little laugh. “I’ll be okay.”

Alarm shot through me. My gut said something was dreadfully wrong.

“Promise me you’ll let me know if you need anything,” I insisted, heart thumping against my chest like a crazy drum.

“Oh, I will.” Silence. No dramatics or weird spacing-out. No ranting or bitterness against her girls.

“Is Johnny there with you?”

“Oh, yeh,” she said sweetly, “ Johnny really loves me, Sunny. He won’t leave me.”

Silence. No “
like my girls did.”

“Bye, baby. Love you.” I choked back tears.

“Love you, too, Sunny. Bye.”

I stared at the receiver, fear gripping me.

What now?

~~~~~

Emaline and I had established a weekly Thursday evening ritual of dining together at my house. I would haul out all my leftovers, adding hers and maybe a fresh serving of chicken or ham or
whatever
to complete our ‘sister’ meal.

Still girls at heart, we’d long ago adopted each other as sisters. Only thing missing from the rites was blood mingling.

Walter didn’t mind at all. Usually, he and Lee Roy ate their meal on TV trays while watching their favorite programs so we girls had the kitchen to ourselves.

“Let’s ask Francine and Sheila to join us,” Emaline suggested one Thursday night as we finished the last of the fried chicken and potato salad. “I’d love to claim them as sisters, too.”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “Why not?”

Francine was tickled for the invitation and joined our sisterhood circle the very next week. “Did either of you ask Sheila to join us?” Emaline refilled our glasses with iced tea.

“I did,” I replied. “She’s not too enthused, I guess you’d say.”

Emaline peered at me, puzzled. “Why?”

I gazed at her sweet, trusting features. She didn’t have a clue. “I think she’s sorta…territorial,” I said and shrugged apologetically “She apparently doesn’t want to share me with you.”

“I’m sorry she feels that way.” Emaline grew quiet and thoughtful.

Francine snorted. “She don’t worry ‘bout sharing
me
none
.
I hardly ever see ‘er anyhow.” She took a hefty bite of carrot cake. “Mmm, this is
sinful,
Sunny.”

I grinned. “Better you get the calories than me.”

“You sure look good now,” Francine’s shrewd eyes gauged my new thinness. “Don’t get t’ looking
too good
, now, y’hear?”

“Oh shut up, the both of you.” Emaline’s little nose flew up in the air. “You skinny hussies make me
sick.”

Francine did a Mae West fluff of platinum-white hair and said huskily, “Eat your heart out, honey.”

Emaline threw the last half of her biscuit at Francine, who whooped and threw one back.

Twenty minutes later, we were still laughing and snortin’ like hogs and cleaning up the mess.

~~~~~

Sheila’s malady turned out to be a brain tumor. Malignant and inoperable. At first, she was inconsolable. Terrified. True to his word, boyfriend Johnny Mack stayed with her.

I hurtled into denial, pulling out all stops.

Outwardly, I was staunch and supportive. Inside, horror of the disease festered. Cancer had already claimed Daddy. Now, it had designs on Sheila. Just how genetic was it? I read as much as possible on the subject, searched the web for the latest breakthroughs and encouraged Sheila with any morsel of hope I found. It must have helped because eventually she calmed and pulled up something deep inside that helped her grasp the good moments.

“Walter,” I said one morning in early December as I thumbed through a Toney Bus Tours guide, “I’d like to get Sheila’s mind off her illness. She needs something
fun.
Let’s book for this bus tour to Disney World. If I can get so many folks to sign up, we can get ours free.” A card-carrying homebody, Walter was, if not animated, surprisingly comfortable with the plans. His energy reservoir drained out easily but I reasoned that, at Disney World, we could slow our pace to accommodate that.

That week, I put a couple of sentences in my column about the trip and
whoa!
The response was this rip-roaring stampede. Seemed everybody in the Middle Tyger River area wanted to go to Disney World with the Stones. The bus seating was limited, so we ended up restricting those signing up to
family
and close friends. I booked the trip for the first week in January. That would get us through Christmas first.

“How long is it gonna be?” asked Walter. In the question I sensed apprehension dawning.

“Oh,” I quickly reassured him, “only for a long weekend. From Friday morning till Sunday evening. Not long at all.”

He visibly relaxed and resumed watching
Perry Mason.

Early in the a.m., three weeks later on a frigid January morning, we huddled together, the lot of us, expiring excited puffs of vapor as we waited for the bus to arrive in the deserted BiLo parking lot. Our group included Walter and me, Lee Roy, Francine, Aunt Tina, Timmy’s family, Emaline and Pastor John, Muffin, Jason, and Gracie, Gladys Kale, Ruth Bond Staggs, her daughter Sally (now married and a school administrator), and Joey Staggs.

I’d nearly bowled over when Doretha, Alvin, and their daughter, Tammy, signed up and now, here they were, ready to go. Sheila and Johnny Mack arrived. She was gaunt but as joyful as I’d ever seen her. Her blonde wig, a sexy one, actually, kept the jokes afloat for awhile, then another car careened into the lot with late arrivals. Sheila’s girls, all three, spilled out and dashed to bear hug their mama, who promptly burst into sobs of happiness.

I choked up on that one.
Thank you, God. You do still hear me.

Just as the bus appeared and bags were being hoisted into the luggage compartment, another eleventh-hour traveler screeched into a parking space and the driver emerged, winded and determined to get aboard.

Daniel.

My heart nearly burst with joy at the sight of him. Was it wrong? Still? To secretly celebrate him in my heart? I honestly didn’t know.

He swept aboard, his hand squeezing my shoulder as he brushed past, making his way to a seat in the coach’s mid-section. I’d given Walter the window-seat to keep him content, not easy when he was away from his fare of TV adventures. Lee Roy sat in the back, entertaining anybody who’d listen with his tales.

“Hey!” Daniel called out, “Not fair. All the window seats are taken!” I knew he was teasing. That was his way of livening things up.

“Come on, handsome,” called Gladys. “You sit with this good lookin’ ol’ woman here and she’ll give you the window seat. Deal?”

“Deal.” He promptly claimed the promised seat and in a burst of exhaust fumes and anticipation, we embarked on our dream trip.

It was fodder for the next week’s column:

JOURNAL OF A MAD TRAVELER

The day is here! My family clan of fifteen and horde of friends board the Toney Tour Bus this frigid January dawn, cheerfully mindful that Orlando, our destination, is ALWAYS balmy. We fight for window seats and settle down for the journey that will transport us to the chimera world that is Disney. We depart Spartanburg on a tide of anticipation. In Georgia, conversations ebb as magazines pop up and seats tilt back in snooze position. At lunchtime, despite endless goody-snacks, we pile into Cracker Barrel like ravenous waifs. Seated first, Walter and I are served LAST and as I hurriedly gulp down a vitamin gel capsule with my food, it lodges in my throat.

The silent drama commences: I gasp and peer desperately at Walter, who is stricken because he’s seen this before. Not fun. He whirls me around and whacks me between the shoulder blades. My breath grows shallower. I’m on my knees now, face to the floor, eyes watering. The restaurant is so quiet you could hear a gnat burp. Walter yanks me up to my feet, back to him, and balls his fist under my ribcage Uh oh! He’s never done a Heimlich before.

Unghhh! Ribs crack. Poor Walter. Poor me. I am blue. Help! With shaking hands I seize the water glass for one last gulp. The capsule slides down. I survive. No time to eat. Dash through icy drizzle to bus. Can’t WAIT to get to sunny, WARM Orlando!

Take Advil for aching ribcage. Pass around leftover Christmas candies. Everybody finicky, brought their own, thank you very much.

Destination at last! Bedtime. Morning too soon…motel TV news says record cold weather for the next two days. Add light jacket to apparel. Clan already aboard bus, yelling, “hurry!” as I jog through freezing wind, wincing at my ribs’ clamoring protest.

Disney at last! Monorail broke down. Backtrack through endless lines to different site, ANOTHER endless file to a ferryboat that transports us to theme park. Day cold. Brrr! Ribcage smarting. Clan buys gloves, hats, and sweaters to knock off chill, all DISNEY emblazoned and costly. Hands freezing. Find warm place. Magic Kingdom. Parade…I’m momentarily thawed after lunch in warm Colonial Restaurant.

Soon, feet like ice. Food lays heavy in stomach. Would trade my kingdom for a warm jacket. Stores all out. Sundown. Temperatures sink like Titanic. Ribs thrumming like bass guitar. Stomach now churning. When does hypothermia set in? Catch monorail to find warm bus.

Bus not in parking lot. OH GOD! No place to thaw.

Walter’s resolution: ‘We’ll ride the monorail till the bus comes. At least it’s warm here.”

Two, three trips. Door springs open. “You two. Get off!” roars a Disney marine-sergeant female. “Make room for others who need it more.”

Walter flashes a feral grin. “No way.” He presses his back to his corner. “We’re riding back to the bus lot.”

Walter’s my hero.

We disembark at parking lot. Bus is there, thank God! Warmth.