Comfort and Joy (13 page)

Early in the afternoon they entered the Gardens of Calvary Perpetual Care Cemetery, and Ford stopped the car inside the gate.

The Gardens of Calvary occupied a low, rolling field, once farmland, surrounded by a sweep of pine for most of its perimeter, save one side, where a ditch and apple orchard separated the dead fromthe fallow field beyond. At the center of the burial spaces stood a marble Jesus, gleaming white, on a brick pedestal, arms spread downward in a gesture of blessing, face turned heavenward, as if announcing ownership of all these graves. At the base of the brick pedestal, rows of poinsettias lifted verdant and red leaves as a carpet for Jesus' feet.

Surrounding the standing Christ, on all sides, bronze markers lay flat in the dry winter grass. Graves reached to the foot of the apple trees on one side, but elsewhere the population of deceased had only partially filled the field, and grave markers were visible only as depressions in the grass. Here was a cemetery designed for the convenience of the lawn mower, lackingstandingtombstones altogether.
lackingstandingtombstones altogether.

"Sell graves. Dig graves. Keep the grass mowed. Bury people. Mom runs the office. That's it, back there in the trees. It's also their house."

Far at the back ofthe field, beneaththe enormous branches of a pecan tree, a small, neat trailer nested among well-tended shrubs and dark-leaved plum trees. Shadows of interwoven branches dappled the creamwalls. An office had been added to the front of the trailer and that door opened now. Atrimwoman hesitated behind the aluminum storm door, glare obscuring her face. "That's Mom."Danfelt the hand inhis stomachagain, along with another feeling, the warmrush ofher presence. "She's trying to figure out if it's us or if it's somebody who's come to visit a grave."

Ford studied her. "I bet she knows it's us." Ford released the brake and eased the car alongthe loop road.
She must have suspected, at least, for she continued to wait in the open doorway as the car slipped past rows of flowerpots, neat brass markers nestled indrygrass; past the mausoleumatop which another Christ, also bleached white as bone, knelt in .prayer. As the car neared the gravel parking area in front of the cemeteryoffice, she waved and stepped free ofthe doorway.
Seeing her again, all Dan's fear returned. Mother and son watched each other, exchanging code. Then Mother turned her eyes calmlyto Ford, noddinghello.
Even in her mid-fifties Ellen Crell Burley retained the dark curls of her youth, the graceful hands, slim figure, fine skin, and strong facial bones that characterized her and that she had passed to her children. Wrapping a sweater close around her, she inspected Ford's parking. The car stopped, and Dan opened the door.
Detachment flooded himwith the winter air. Distant, hovering above himself, he crossed the gravel to embrace her, cheeks touching, her kiss cool and dry. Hearing Ford's footsteps behind him.
him.
She turned to Ford, her face a calm mask. "Well, I guess I know who youare."
"Yes, ma'am, I guess you do," Ford said. "I'm glad to meet you."
Ford and Ellenstudied eachother. Danstepped back, making room. Ford leaned over Dan's mother and embraced her gently.
She endured the touch with a slight smile. She had an aversion to hugs; evenher childrenonlyoccasionallystrayed close enough for contact, knowing not to linger. Pulling away from him, she said, "Danny told me you were tall, Ford, but I didn't know you were this tall."
"Danny told me you were pretty, but he didn't tell me you were this pretty," Ford's voice edged with the social tone Dan expected. "Thank youfor lettingme come for Christmas."
"We're glad to have you."
Inside, she said, "You can both put your things in the bedroom. I made some roominthe closet."
The low ceiling of the office almost brushed the top of Ford's hair. Mom lifted her glasses to her eyes momentarily. "Well, Ford, you can almost stand up straight in here, can't you? My husband built this room onto the trailer, and he's right short. So he didn't think about how low he got the ceiling."
Ford laughed. "I'mfine."
The office contained a metal desk and side chairs, a typewriter, telephone, and answering machine. Two filing cabinets occupied one corner. Propped against one wall, a display of bronze and stone grave markers offered the customer a sample ofthe possible sizes and decorative borders ofeternity. Over the display, framed behind glass, hung a neat drawing of the cemeterywiththe grave plots preciselylaid out.
Adjoining the office was a small den that Ellen had filled with Norfolk island pine, Chinese evergreen, areca palm, and wandering Jew, along with heavy wooden furniture of no particular type, and thick shag carpeting of many brown shades. particular type, and thick shag carpeting of many brown shades. This room had also been added and lay one step below the broad doorway to the original living area. The twinned rooms had always impressed Dan as pleasant in the past but with Ford standing at their center, illuminated in afternoon light, the furniture became awkward, the wood carving graceless and clumsy, the carpet garish.
Mom waited on the steps, hands in the pockets of her sweater. "Danny. Bring the bags in here, son. Show Ford where to go."She met his gaze perfectly, witha slight smile. He stepped past Ford, and she received him again, embracing him briefly. "Did you boys have a good trip? I told you I would have picked youup at Raleigh."
"Yes, ma'am, we knew you would have, but I like to drive. I don't get to do a whole lot ofit, I'mat the hospitalso much."
"You're a pediatrician, is that right?"Momliked doctors.
"Yes, ma'am."
Dan stood with the hanging bag in the small bedroom that occupied the end of the trailer. This room had been assigned to Dan whenever he came home to the Gardens of Calvary over the last years, and he had grown familiar with its cramped spaces. While Ellen Burley, since her second marriage, had adapted to life in a mobile home, she bore only contempt for what she called trailer furniture. She had stocked each of her small rooms with sturdy stuff from a real furniture store. The bedroom held a large, cherry bed, a matching dresser with a broad mirror and attendant bric-a-brac, and a chest of drawers, equally burly, which projected inches beyond its alcove, past the doors of the closet. The one window, at the end of the trailer, opened onto a view of the silver propane gas tank outside, supported onlegs ofspider steel.
"Smells good inhere,"Ford said.
"That's my pies," Mom answered, and Dan inhaled the floodtide of vanilla, the unmistakable odor of coconut creamand warm meringue. "I was so busy cooking I didn't even notice what time it was tillyoudrove up."
"We took our time. We drove down through some towns where youfolks used to live. Somersville and Potter's Lake."
Mom turned to Dan in surprise. "Why did you come through Potter's Lake? Youknow that's not the fastest way."
"I asked himto,"Ford said. "I wanted to see what the country was like."
Mom laughed hesitantly, eyeing them both. An edge of fear crossed her face, then smoothed away. "Well, now you know. Do you want to unpack right now, or do you want something to eat?"
"I want to unpack these clothes." Dan found himself shy of meetingher gaze. "We ate at Bob and Jean's."
"You can't get anything fit to eat at that place. Too greasy. And me with a refrigerator full of food. I could have made you a sandwich."
Ford chuckled and lifted white boxes ofDan's blood medicine from the suitcase and Mom said, "I need to put those in the refrigerator, don't I?"
"Yes, ma'am." Ford handed her the boxes. "I'd do it myself but I don't want to be pokingaround inyour kitchen."
"Lord, you better not be." She studied the boxes. Turning to Dan. "I think I'll put this out in Ray's shed. I got an old refrigerator out there. Hang everything in the closet, Danny. I got mystuffshoved out ofthe way, I made some room."
In the silence, after she vanished, they each took a breath. Ford studied the room. "This is tiny."
"I told youit was."
Beyond the window, Mom slipped into the shed with the boxes ofDan's medicine.
The two men wedged themselves into the space between the bed and the closet. Standing close. Aware of the open bedroom door. Ford said, "I think I like tiny. I've never stayed in a trailer before."
"She stillhasn't said where we're goingto sleep."
"Youlook like your mother. Did youknow that?"
"Nobody else says so." Dan lowered his eyes, hearing her footsteps.
She stood in the doorway a moment, watching. The two men no longer touched but stillstood close. She inspected themboth, first Ford, thenDan. Who met her gaze.
She sensed a closeness that made her uncomfortable. At least, Dan thought she did. "You boys take your time. Come in the kitchenwhenyou're unpacked."Vanishing.
Ford said, after a moment, "Why don't you go on out there and let me finishthis. I bet she'd like to talk to you."
In the kitchen, Mom peeled cooking apples over a stainlesssteel bowl. When Dan entered, she merely glanced up, focusing on her work. "Ray doesn't like his apple pie with peelings in it. Otherwise I wouldn't even bother with this. I don't mind the peelings myself."
Dan stood next to her, one arm around her shoulders. "It's good to be here."A pause of slight awkwardness. "We have to wrap some presents. I have to, I mean."
She smiled, not looking at him. "I got ribbons all ready for you. And some pretty paper." She continued, all the while, peeling apples, her concentration fixed on the spiral of peel drooping into the pot. From the bedroom came the echo of Ford, whistling. Mother laughed softly, and shook her head.
Dansaid, "This is sort offunny, isn't it?"
"It's right unusual, I guess. What did Ford's parents say?"
Dan lowered his voice. "They told us not to come at all. It reallyhurt his feelings."
"That's what Ray wanted me to tell you. But I told him there wasn't any way I could do that. And he hasn't said anything about it since."
"Where is he now? Is he mad?"
"Where is he now? Is he mad?"
"He's at the mall. I think he's all right. But he's not saying much, these last few days."
Dansaid, "He never says that much. I hope he acts okay."
"He's doing his best, son." Handing Dan a slice of apple, patting his arm. "Sit down at the table, you worry me standing there like that."
She poured fresh coffee from the pot, wordlessly. Dan said, "I'mhalfasleep after the ride."
"I'll be glad to make you something to eat if you're hungry. Ray and me already had a sandwich, and he can't eat again till supper, because of his diet. I try to eat like he does. Your sister wanted to make lasagna, but I told her Ray can't eat it and I don't need it as fat as I'mgetting to be. Ray would sit right here and eat a mountain of it and then belch half the night and tell me how his stomachhurts. And I have enoughtrouble sleeping."
"Whenis Allengettinghere?"
"Sometime tomorrow.Himand Cherise are goingto stop byto see you, and then they're driving on to see Cherise's parents. Then they're going to stop back by here the day after Christmas and spend the night."
"Did youtellhimabout Ford?"
Momanswered, quietly, "I told himyou were bringing a friend home withyou. And that's all."
Dan accepted the slight admonition in her tone. "When does Cherise have the baby?"
"She's due in March, but she's so big you'd think it was next week. Some women show and some women don't; but Cherise, she shows."
Hesitating, listening to the wind against the sides of the trailer, Danasked, finally, "Have youheard fromDuck?"
"He calls me sometimes. He called a couple of weeks ago." She paused, but Dan knew to wait. "He told me he doesn't want to come home. So I don't fight withhimabout it."
to come home. So I don't fight withhimabout it."
"At least he's talking to you now. Does he tell you where he is?"
"He says he's in New Mexico. But I don't know whether to believe him."
"Is he allright?"
"He says he is. I think he's still drinking pretty much. I try not to worryabout it."
Ford emerged from the bedroom, and Dan's mother turned toward him at the sound. Her expression stiffened slightly. "Come join us in here. I made Danny a cup of coffee. You want one?"
Ford slid into a seat across from Dan. Even seated, his presence dominated the room, his shoulders monumental, his size almost anembarrassment. Momset the coffee cup infront ofhim and asked, in a brisker tone, "Do you boys ever cook at your house, or do youeat out allthe time?"
"We cook whenI'mhome,"Ford said, "whichis not much."
"Danny cooks too? I didn't even think he knew how. He used to eat in restaurants allthe time. I couldn't believe it when he told me. Wastingallthat money."
"Mama thinks eating out is taking a bologna sandwich to the yard,"Dansaid, and she laughed, almost relaxed.
They sat together awkwardly; Dan froze and could think of nothing at all to say Till finally Ford stood. "I need to call the hospital."
Somethingabout his expressiontouched a chord in
Mom. She warmed toward Ford all in a moment. "You can use the phone in the office if you want to. It's that room where we came in. Youcanbe byyourselfinthere."
When he was gone, Mompoured the cooked apples into pie crusts. "Is he callingabout a patient?"
"Yes, ma'am.A sick little boy."
"He reminds me of one of your doctors when you were in Chapel Hill, that first time. I bet you don't remember him, do you?"
Danfelt a prickle at the base ofhis skull. "No, ma'am."
"He was one of the interns. I don't remember what his name was. But he was real nice to me. And he always acted like he was so worried about you. Ford reminds me of him. He was tall like that."They heard Ford's voice fromthe other room, muffled. "I guess he got the callthrough."
Momwatched him, tangible as a touch. "I'mglad youcame."
"So amI."
"Ford seems like a real good person," spoken haltingly, though; and she could not look him in the eye. "He has a lot of money, doesn't he? Youcantell."
Not a sound from the other room; they were both listening. "He must be finished."
But the silence went on too long. Dan stood and stuck his head in the office. He found Ford staring out the window with the phone receiver in his lap. "They have the kid back in surgery. Too much bleeding. I couldn't get Russell, he's with the surgeons."
"Who did youtalk to?"
"The floor nurse. He's been in the OR about an hour." Shoulders wracked with sudden tension. "I don't think this kid's goingto make it. I had a bad feelingwhenI left."
"Do you think it would be any different if you were there?" Gentlypressinghis bodyagainst the back ofFord's neck.
Mom called, from the den, out of sight of the door, "Everythingallright?"
"Yes, ma'am," Ford called. Taking a deep breath, he stood. "Come on, there's no reasonto sit out here. I'llcallagainlater."
During the lull in her cooking, Mother took them on a tour of her yard, and they walked among the various flower beds as she pointed out the shrubs and flowers. She named the colors of all the azaleas, even though all were bloomless and green. "Have you always lived on cemeteries?"Ford asked, looking around at the graves, the closest ofthembeingacross the paved loop road.
Mom laughed. "No. This is my first one. But I'll tell you one thing. It's quiet. And nobodybothers you."
Her vegetable garden bore witness to her careful frugality; neatly laid out on an otherwise untilled portion of the land, it had continued to bear collards for her table even in deepest autumn. She described, matter-of-factly, what types of vegetables each row had yielded, and how many quarts of peas, beans, and corn she had frozen. "We got a mess of field peas this year. I must have put up sixtyquarts. But the butterbeans didn't do anything."
A car pulled into the gate, and its lone occupant opened the driver-side door. A woman with her hair tied up in a dark scarf carried a foil-clad poinsettia carefully into the field of graves. Stopping at last, she knelt to touch the bronze plaque nested in dry grass, setting the poinsettia into the bronze vase. She adjusted the flower to make the picture perfect, then remained kneeling, longer than her knees might have wished, as evidenced by the difficulty with which she stood. Mom said, "Her husband died two years ago. She brings flowers out here almost every month."
"You have people out here all the time, don't you?" Ford asked.
"Except at night. Sometimes people will ride through here at night, but theydon't stop."