Land Sakes (2 page)

Barbara was pitcher-pumping me. “Let me call my father's lawyers. They'll file an age discrimination suit against this place.”

I put the quietus on all of that, told them the Lord was in this and we'd just have to wait to see what he had in mind.

Even though I truly believed the Lord had his reasons for my being let go, my heart was aching. I didn't want the women to know how bad I felt, because it's like Splurgeon says: “One downcast believer makes twenty souls sad.” What crying I did, I did alone in my room. And, working about the house and yard, I let loose, singing the songs of Zion in a voice that sounded like a whooping crane in mating season. The girls got a lot of fun out of my singing, and it did as much for me as it did for them.

But Barbara kept harping about her mama. “I want her to meet you, Miss E.”

Then one day her mother's secretary called and told Barbara her mama was going on this cruise and needed a companion.

“A companion?” I asked. “Why does a grown woman need a companion?”

“Mother has spells of light-headedness.”

“I see.” I was tired and excused myself to get ready for bed.

There's nothing quite like a good hot bath to ease body aches and pains. As I sloshed around in the tub soaping up, I wondered if anybody in Live Oaks knew I was leaving Priscilla Home. I hadn't even told Beatrice. She and Carl spend their time traveling in that RV they got. It would have been nice to pick up the phone and call her, but Carl has never bought a cell phone, which is one thing I will never understand. Now and again, Beatrice will call me from a pay phone or write a letter. The last letter I got from her she told me to write in care of General Delivery in Seattle, Washington. They were staying a while at a campground there.

I turned on more hot water and lay back in the tub, feeling cut loose from everybody I loved. Beatrice—she's like a sister to me. We've known each other all our lives, and since neither of us have any near kin, we tell each other everything. I could write to her to give her this news, but it would be better to wait until I knew what I was going to do. Hearing the board retired me, Beatrice would most likely get historical.

But me? When you've lived as long as I have, it takes more than a bump in the road to make you go all to pieces. It's like Splurgeon says: “All sunshine and nothing else
makes a desert.” A bump in the road shakes you up so you don't rest on your laurels.

Sometimes it's better not to have nobody to talk to but the Lord. I didn't have to tell him how much I loved Priscilla Home, and he knew the good I could do there. But I told him if he had somebody who could do it better, I could handle that, if only I wouldn't get jealous.

I've been disappointed before. A few years back I had feelings for Albert Ringstaff. He is one dear man, a gentleman from the word go. Smart too. Before he retired, he tuned pianos for concert maestros, as he called them, and traveled all over the world. Now he lives up on the mountain, where he has a big place and a guesthouse.

Albert came here as a widower, and in time he became the only man I had ever been interested in since my Bud died. But I came to understand that the Lord had something better for me than marrying Albert. Anyway, Albert's highbrow music and friends would have proved to be not my cup of tea. As it is, I have had work to do for the Lord, and he has give me souls for my hire. It don't get no better than that.

But you never know what's around the bend, do you? Women my age are dropping like flies, so I'd have to be boneheaded not to know I was getting close home. As much as I looked forward to getting there, I did want to make the most of the time I had left. If Priscilla Home was the end of the line for me, coasting the rest of the way home would be the hardest thing the Lord ever had me do.

When the new director arrived, she made it clear that she could handle this work without any help from me. A body don't hang around where they are not wanted, so I started packing. As I was folding my underpants, my glasses fogged up.
Lord, we're coming down to the wire. Where do we go from here
? I decided I better put down a deposit on that dog bed of an apartment in town, but I really didn't want to.

I had wiped my eyes and started packing my winter clothes when Barbara came to my room. “Can I help?” she asked.

“No, just sit down and visit with me.”

“Had a letter from Mother's secretary.”

“Your mama has a secretary?”

“Oh yes. I don't suppose Mother has ever written a letter in her life. At least, she's never written one to me.”

“I like to write letters, myself,” I said. “I have this friend I've known all my life, and we write letters back and forth all the time.”

Barbara stood up and looked out the window. “Father said he has never known my mother to have a friend.”

“Oh no? How old is she?”

“She's in her sixties.” She turned away from the window. “According to Dad, Mother only likes dead people.”

I dropped the blouse I was holding and stared at her. “What?”

“That's right, dead people. He says she likes to know where they're buried and how they died, so she travels all over the country visiting cemeteries.”

What kind of a wacko is this
?

“Miss E., Mother is going on this cruise, and she needs somebody like you to go with her.”

I laughed. “She does, does she?”
Barbara's feeling sorry for me; wants to help me out
, I thought. “Well, Barbara, I may be a lot of things, but one thing's for sure, I am not no nurse.”

“She doesn't need a nurse.”

“Didn't you tell me she has spells of light-headedness?”

“Yes, she does.”

“Well, with all the money your family has got, it seems like you would hire a registered nurse, somebody like that.”

She shook her head. “No, that's not what she needs.”

“Well, your daddy will be traveling with her, won't he?”

“Dad never goes anywhere with her.”

“I see.” I was beginning to get the picture. Here's a bubbleheaded woman who has not got much of a marriage and has not been much of a mother. I have not got much patience with a woman like that.

“Where's she going on this cruise?”

“Alaska. The ship sails from Vancouver.”

“That's nice.” The room fell quiet; I kept folding clothes. To make conversation, I asked if her mother was going to fly to Vancouver.

“No, she doesn't like to fly.”

“Going by train?”

“No, by car.”

“I take it she's got a good car.”

“It's ten years old, but it runs good.”

“ Oh.” That told me more than she wanted me to know. If her mother was riding around in a ten-year-old car, all that flapdoodle Barbara had told us about her family being rich was just that—flapdoodle. Why, my Chevy was only twelve years old when it gave up the ghost. “Will your mother do the driving?”

“No. She doesn't have a driver's license.”

So that's it—she's looking for some birdbrain to drive her mother across country in a rattletrap that's sure to be falling apart
.

“Will you pray about it?”

“About what?”

“About going as a companion with Mother. Besides all your expenses being paid, you can name your own salary.”

Yeah, right
, I thought.
Or else she's planning to pay with drug money
. “Barbara, I appreciate your wanting to help me out, but I'll manage. I don't know what the Lord has in store for me, but something will turn up. Don't you worry about it. Now run along to bed so you won't be caught up after lights out.”

“I wish you would consider it. Mother needs somebody like you.”

I couldn't get the suitcase closed. Barbara helped me push down on the lid, and I snapped it shut.

“Why not, Miss E.?”

“Like I told you, Barbara, I am not no nurse. I never been on a boat, never got seasick, and I plan to keep it that way.”

“You can name your own price, Miss E.”

“Run along, Barbara.” I heard the screen door slam
downstairs and then footsteps on the stairs. I gave her a wink. “I think I hear a ‘putty cat.'”

“Oh,
her
, that old battle-axe of a director.”

I smiled. “Now, now, be sweet!” She gave me a hug and left. I closed the door behind her, glad that was over.

Two days later, I had all my stuff packed and ready to go. I was going into town the next morning to rent that apartment if it was still available. Even so, I felt like Abraham must have felt when he “went out not knowing whither he went.” My severance pay would keep me going a couple months, but after that, well... I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

2

Albert came over that night, bringing us a mess of fish, and the girls took them to the canning room to clean. He and I walked up to the front porch and sat down in the rockers. “You catch them fish?” I asked.

“Not this time. I bought them at the trout farm.”

Through the years, Albert and me had spent many an evening sitting on that porch talking, and it hurt to think that this might well be the last time.

Albert leaned his elbows on his knees and twirled that little German hat on his fingers. Reminded me of that day we went up on Grandfather Mountain. I still have a picture of him we took that day. He was wearing that same little hat with the feather on the side.

“Say you didn't catch those fish?”

“No, I didn't. Truth is, I've been having bouts of vertigo. I never know when it's going to hit me, so it wouldn't be smart to wade in the stream fishing. The doctor made all kinds of tests but didn't find anything. My wife is pushing me to take it easy, but there's a lot of work to
keeping up our place. As much as I enjoy doing the work, I have to admit I'm not always up to it. When this comes on me, I shouldn't be driving, but since Lenora doesn't drive, I have to.” He paused. “Say, Esmeralda, do you know of a man I could hire to help out?”