Making Waves (24 page)

“Oh, no.
Not
Dink and Glenda. I only wish it had been. We were sitting in there, eating our catfish, and who comes in but Taylor Dupree!”

“You don't mean it! I guess there's no way Tim could not see him, that's such a little cafe.” No wonder she was so upset.

“Tim saw him all right, and so did Jack. Jack was just as startled as me. Probably more, since I don't think he'd heard that Taylor was back in town. Me and Jack both started talking at once.”

“What on earth did Tim do?”

“That's just it, Ellis. Tim never let on one bit. He looked at Taylor, I saw him. Looked right into his eyes. And Taylor stopped right in his tracks and stared at Tim. Can you believe it? The gall of him—right out there in front of everybody, staring like a fool.”

Donnette wiped her eyes as they filled with tears again. “I thought I was going to choke to death on my food, I swear I did. Jack was so embarrassed he didn't say a thing after that; he just got us home in a hurry, believe you me.”

“What do you suppose Taylor was doing at a cafe like that—slumming? He's not the kind to go to places that serve local people.” Suddenly I thought of something. “Reckon he was following you and Tim?”

“I might have thought of that, too, if he'd been alone. But he had his Aunt Della and another woman with him. They got a table over in the corner and had catfish. I tried not to look at them, but I couldn't help it. Have you found out anything about when he's going back to school, Ellis?”

“I found out more about Taylor Dupree lately than either of us want to know, Donnette. I don't suppose that woman with him and Miss Della was Miss Maudie Ferguson's niece, was it?”

“Sure was. Do you know her?”

“Not really, but Taylor knows her real well. If you get my drift. Matter of fact, I saw them together, making out, down at the river the other day. And they've been seen together since.”

Donnette's eyes got big as saucers. “Taylor and that woman? Good heavens! That's unbelievable.”

“Well, you can believe it, because I saw it with my own eyes. There's nothing he won't do, is there?” Donnette and I just stared at each other at the thought. “So I can see why you don't want someone like him influencing Tim. Did y'all leave the cafe as soon as they got there?”

“Pretty soon after. We had to finish our supper. 'Course I never ate another bite, but Tim ate like a pig. Then he had banana pudding for dessert.” Donnette shook her head. “It upset my stomach, I'll tell you. I went back and forth to the bathroom all night.”

“When did y'all have a fuss? And was it about Taylor?”

Donnette sighed. “In a way it was. I didn't say a word about it when we got home; I was too scared to. And I kept running to the bathroom. It was this morning. Tim got on to me real bad, Ellis. He said I was a fool to think that he hadn't known all along that Taylor was back in town, to try and protect him like I did. He said he saw Taylor at the funeral and he knew I was breaking my neck to keep them from seeing each other.” She smiled through her tears.

“Tim said I had to let it go, Ellis. He said all that with Taylor was over and done with, and that I
had
to stop protecting and mothering him so much. I know he has a point, but I couldn't let it go at that. I had to open my big mouth. I told Tim that I was afraid of Taylor, afraid for them to see each other again. And I swear, I don't understand his reaction! Tim turned white as a sheet, and he just walked out of the room. He walked right away from me!”

This time Donnette was crying in earnest, big tears rolling down her cheeks, and I didn't know what to do. I patted her on the shoulder while she buried her face in her hands and cried her heart out. I didn't know quite what to make of it, either.

“Tim hates me, Ellis. I know he does. He wants to be independent and forget everything that's happened and I won't let him. I bet he even thinks I
like
having him depend on me. I've never been so worried in my life—I can't live if Tim hates me, Ellis.” And on she went, sobbing and carrying on. I didn't know what to say to make her feel better. I was afraid that she might be right. Not that Tim hated her, but that she was overprotective of him and he resented it. Made sense to me.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the shop door. I like to have jumped out of my skin until I saw it was Tim. I ran and opened the door and stuck my head out.

“Is Donnette all right?” There was so much concern on his face that I knew he really cared for her, and I breathed a little sigh of relief.

“She's a little upset right now, Tim, but she'll be okay. Give her a minute to pull herself together.”

Tim looked real uneasy, like he didn't know what to say. Finally he stammered, “I-I got the sign hung and I want her to see it.”

I smiled up at him and winked. “That's great, Tim! Just what she needs. Tell you what, let me help her get her hair fixed and some makeup on, and we'll be right out there.”

I closed the door quickly. Through the curtains, I could see him standing there for a minute uncertainly. Then he went back to the front yard.

“Come on, Donnette,” I said. “Get those curlers out and let's get some makeup on you, honey. Tim has got your sign fixed!”

I was so proud to be able to do something nice for Donnette I decided that since she was already so upset, I wouldn't tell her yet about the conversation between Miss Frances Martha and Miss Della. It would probably be more than she could handle today.

I helped Donnette fix herself up real pretty, but she was still pale and shaky when the two of us went outside to join Tim. She gave me a hug just before we went out the door and told me how grateful she was to me for listening to her problems. I tell you, I sure was proud of that course that I'd taken at the Methodist Church then. Daddy says the Methodists are middle-of-the-roaders and don't have enough religion to suit him, but I think that they have just enough for me!

I will never forget when we walked out to the front yard and saw that sign Tim had painted and hung for Donnette. I always think of myself as a levelheaded, practical person, not emotional at all, but I got tears in my eyes when I saw it.

And Donnette—well, she just started up crying again and ran right into Tim's arms. He held her so tight that I thought he was never going to let her go. I wished she'd hush crying, because her eye makeup that we worked so hard on was running in blue and black rivers down her face. But somehow, I don't think she cared one bit.

I slipped away then and left them standing there, holding on to each other for dear life, looking up at that sign, that big white sign with the town of Clarksville painted so pretty all around the edge, their house right in the center.

Aunt Della and I walked heavily down the hall to her room, she scraping along, hanging on to the walker, her head bent over and her back humped, me holding on to her elbow like an idiot, as though that would do either of us any good if she started to fall again.

“Now don't you worry, baby,” she said to me, huffing and puffing like the Little Engine That Could, from the story she used to read me every single night as a child. “Don't you worry none, you hear? I'm fine. I just lost my balance, got a little dizzy. I'm absolutely fine.”

I couldn't tell if she was trying to convince me or herself. My hands were shaking so that it was a wonder she didn't fall just from me rocking hell out of her. Trying to help and I'd probably end up doing her more harm than good. Story of my life.

I was determined to get her settled into her room and call the doctor or somebody. Maybe Sarah—we'd just let her off, so she couldn't be in bed yet. I might even have to break down and call Daddy Clark or Aunt Mary Frances or Martha. I was that worried.

It was like Aunt Della read my mind.

“Taylor, I want you to help me get into my bed, then I'll be fine. I think I just ate too much catfish tonight. Really, I probably shouldn't have gone, I haven't been out at night in so long. Couldn't see the porch steps and almost fell. Don't you go calling Harris or any of them, you hear?”

At her bedroom door I let go of her long enough to reach inside and turn on the overhead light. Her room was so big and dark that the light from the hanging lamp overhead seemed pallid, lighting only the faded roses printed on the rug underneath it, and leaving the corners of the room in shadows. I faked a cheerfulness that I didn't feel.

“Okay. Here we are. Home sweet home.”

I helped her into her room, carefully moving her toward the four-poster bed. Letting go of her elbow, I yanked off the white chenille bedspread and pulled back the sheet. It was hot as holy hell in her room. How could she stand it?

“Okey-dokey, Aunt Della. Into the bed with you.” I tried a smile that didn't quite come off.

Aunt Della stood facing me, both hands gripped tightly on the walker. She looked at me, then at the bed, and she shook her head.

“Oh, baby. Bless your heart.” Like me, she tried to smile. “Maybe you had better call Frances. I got to go to the bathroom.”

For a moment I stood there and just stared at her. She looked at me with those pale watery eyes, so fatigued that they seemed even paler now.

“No, let's don't call her,” I said, having absolutely no idea how I'd pull this off with somebody as modest as Aunt Della. “I'll help you go to the bathroom.”

I grabbed the elbow again and turned her toward her bathroom before she could protest. But she only said, “Oh, sugar, you don't have to …” weakly, and off we went.

“Now,” I said when we got her, me, and the walker inside the little bathroom adjoining her room. “I'll go get you a gown while you use the pot. Or do you need any help with that?”

To my relief, Aunt Della chuckled. “Bless you, baby. I don't believe you could help me even if I did.”

Somehow I got Aunt Della pottied, nightgowned, medicated, and settled in for the night, ready for her nightly prayers. I even found a bell someone had given her for Christmas and put it on her bedside table with strict orders for her to ring hell out of it during the night if she needed me.

I bent over and kissed her forehead once she was all settled in, with her covers pulled around her like it was wintertime instead of early September. Carefully, I pushed the stray gray hairs off her cool, damp forehead.

“Did you have a good time tonight, in spite of the dizzy spell?” I smiled down at her. She looked so shrunken without her teeth in. Her skin appeared yellowish in the glow of the Victorian lamp on the round table by her bed.

“I sure did. I appreciate you and Sarah Jean taking me with y'all,” she said as she smiled up at me. “I do love catfish. Me and Rufus used to get a craving for fish, go to that same restaurant. It's been in Mt. Zion long as I can remember. Used to be a fish camp.”

“Sarah's quite a woman, isn't she, Aunt Della?” I knelt beside her and took her hand. “Wonder why she ever fooled with Charlotte? Surely she had her number.”

Aunt Della looked thoughtfully up at the lamp then back at me. “I believe Sarah Jean honestly felt sorry for Charlotte. She was the only female friend Charlotte ever had. Maybe she didn't see Charlotte in the same light the rest of us did. Plus, they only saw each other in the summers, when Sarah visited Maudie.”

I nodded, getting to my feet then sitting beside her on the bed. “Yeah. That makes sense. And I can vouch that, in Charlotte's case, absence does make the heart grow fonder.” I leaned over and gave her another kiss. “We can talk tomorrow—you've got to get some sleep now, okay?”

But Aunt Della surprised me as I turned out the lamp and started out the door, bringing up a subject we'd avoided so carefully since I'd come home. Surprised me and saddened me more than ever.

“Taylor?” Her voice came weakly from the bed just as I reached the door.

“Yes, ma'am?”

“I thought Tim looked good, didn't you?”

I stood poised by the door, frozen, then turned and looked back at her. The light from the hall outlined her eerily in her bed, reminding me of what little I'd seen of Miss Maudie in her casket the other day, and I shivered.

“He looked—okay, I guess.”

“Taylor?” If I hadn't been standing perfectly still, I couldn't have heard her voice, it was so soft. “I love that boy. I always loved him, from the first time he started coming around here with you. He was mighty special to me, almost like another son.”

“I know, Aunt Della,” I said, swallowing hard, painfully.

“I believe he's going to be okay now, don't you? Jesus has promised me he will be.”

Yeah, old Jesus really keeps those promises, doesn't He, I thought to myself, but to her I said only, “Yes, ma'am.”

“Taylor?” Something in her voice scared me, she sounded so sad. “Honey, I've done that boy wrong. You know that now, don't you?”

I crossed the dark room and knelt again beside her.

“Aunt Della, you couldn't do anyone wrong if you tried.” I smiled at her, but she was shaking her head vigorously.