Rush Home Road (19 page)

“Maybe you could name her Emeline since Emeline'll be the one bringing her into the world.”

“I think I like Beatrice. Maybe Beatrice Emeline. That be a nice way to honour them both. Emeline's good to say she'd help me.”

“She'd do anything for Poppa. And you're lucky, too, because she's got eight grandbabies of her own she helped birth. She'll know what to do when the time comes.”

Addy nodded. “I'm still afraid though.”

“I know.”

“For such a natural thing, it seems unnatural.”

Riley squinted at her stomach. “Beatrice or Leam. Mmm. Well, just have to hope it's a boy.”

Addy giggled and fired a piece of potato skin at him. It landed in the middle of his forehead and stuck there. He peeled it off and threw it back. “I'm going to smoke a cigarette. Call me when supper's ready.”

Addy stopped him, saying, “Check on Poppa though, will you? I haven't seen to him all afternoon. I'd like to try to get a sip of water down him. It's on the table by the bed.” She added, “And talk to him, Riley. He gets lonesome.”

Riley hung his head. For the second time tonight Riley wished he'd had the money for a third glass of rum at Jerome's Place. He didn't like having to see his Poppa and would have preferred to be glowing a little brighter, so he could take things more in stride.

Addy shook her peeler. “That man spent his whole life caring for you and doing for you. You get in there and give him a drink of water and tell him how was your workday. Wake him up if he's sleeping. He hasn't had but a sip since he woke this morning.”

Riley knew he could not decline, but first he stopped in the sitting room to roll a cigarette. He lit the cigarette before he made his way down the hall and didn't put it out when Addy called, “Don't be smoking a cigarette in Poppa's room, Riley.”

He shuddered before he pulled the door open and did not glance at Poppa. He didn't think of the frail dying man as his father, and never knew what to do or say to the stranger in his bed. He was relieved Poppa's good eye was
shut and thought to leave the room as quickly as he came, but Addy'd be cross if he didn't wake Poppa and lift his head for some water and say a few words to his unknowing body. He reckoned he'd just sit down in the chair by the bed and smoke his cigarette until it seemed long enough for him to have done what she asked.

Cigarette smoke filled the room and Riley was glad he'd brought it along, for it masked the smell of Poppa's breath and Poppa's piss and the dusty smell of Poppa's scalp. Riley strummed on his thigh and hung his head back over the chair, making clicking sounds with his tongue. Then he sang a verse from a song that'd been playing on the phonograph at Jerome's. Finally, he picked up the glass of water from the table by the bed. He sniffed it and thought it smelled odd. He looked for a place to spill it so it'd appear he'd given Poppa a big long drink. He tried to open the window, but it was frozen shut. He leaned over the bed and tilted the glass over the bedpan on the other side. As he did, he felt a strange stiffness beneath him and slowly realized it was Poppa. He jerked back and stumbled. He'd been waiting for his father to die since Christmas, but now he felt shocked and afraid. He called out, “Adelaide!”

In seconds Addy appeared, drying her hands on a dish-towel. She could see right away that Poppa was gone. Neither of them called his name, or touched him, or tried to shake him back. Addy sank to the mattress, her hands encircling her stomach, and said a silent prayer. Riley looked at the ceiling and wondered if Poppa's ghost had
been watching and knew he'd meant to deceive Addy about the water.

It was only out on the cold street, on his way to fetch Rich Enos, that Riley began to feel the full loss of his father.
Poppa
, he thought,
Oh Poppa
. He'd grieved him since Christmas when he first took ill and cursed him for hanging on so long, but it was here now, an empty place where once had been Poppa. A quietness to replace Poppa's good voice. A gust of wind that said he was there, not on earth, but in the air. Riley knew he would not be the same man again, for Riley had been Poppa's son and was now only his survivor.

With his grief came relief. Poppa was dead and the suffering was done for them all. He and Adelaide could wed and make their own home of the house on Chestnut Street. Their life could begin. He thought of his friends at the newspaper and at Jerome's and what they would think when he told them he got hitched. He'd already planned how he'd tell them the baby was his and he was just now getting around to doing the right thing. He'd let them visit, he thought: play cards, admire his child, drink a little whisky. Addy wouldn't mind and would never be the kind of wife he heard of from others. Riley liked the thought of his new life and quietly thanked Poppa for making it come true.

Rich Enos took care of the arrangements and no one questioned when he said there'd be no church service. Poppa did not want to be buried in the church graveyard,
either. Enos said he wanted to be burned and his ashes rained over the Detroit River. Addy thought the idea most unholy but said nothing to anyone. She merely stood next to Riley on the riverbank to watch Poppa's grey ashes settle on the clean white ice, then get whipped by the wind toward some children skating nearby. In the end she thought they ought to have waited until spring, for the ashes went not to the river but into the weave of the children's coats, to be shaken out in backyards by mothers, wondering from where the grey dust had come.

The supper at the house was grand and there would be food for weeks after, which pleased Addy greatly, for she was heavy and sad and mostly just wanted to sit. It seemed hundreds of people came by to pay their respects, Negro people and white people and even a Chinaman Riley wondered if he should let in the door. One of the men, Dr. Shepherd, came all the way from Toronto. He told Riley and Addy about his practice and his education at Knox College and how it was Poppa he thanked for his very life. “Your father clothed and housed me when I was a youth. But more than that he gave me confidence and courage. If you ever want to come north to Toronto, there'll be a place for you in my home. Consider it, Children. Life is different in Canada.”

Poppa'd been loved and that was sure. None of the mourners questioned Addy's presence, or appeared to wonder or judge. Rich Enos said Poppa was the best man he knew. He blew his nose into a handkerchief and gave Riley a roll of dollars, saying he'd always be there to help.

The house was quiet when they were all gone and there was much to do preparing the leftover food for the icebox and pantry. Riley smoked cigarettes and gazed at the ceiling. Addy knew he was deeply grievous and guilty too. She felt the same way and wished they might say it out loud, but they retreated to their separate rooms that night and didn't speak of Poppa.

Addy did not sleep. The baby was astir all night long and moving in a way she hadn't felt before. Toward morning, she turned her face into her pillow and cried, for the baby had not let her rest and was reminding her with a mean punch, every quarter-hour or so, that Zach Heron's blood was in its veins. She felt moments of relief, and whispered, “Go to sleep now, Child. I got enough to do today. Don't make me cross, now. Shh. Go to sleep.”

Addy glanced at the clock in Verilynn's room and realized that Riley was late for work. She rose and hurried into his room and was relieved to find him gone, though she hadn't heard him or smelled the coffee he'd surely made for breakfast. But then she smelled cigarettes and went to the sitting room to find him stretched out on the sofa, gazing at the ceiling. She whispered, “Riley?”

“I just been laying here dreaming up some plans.”

“You're not going to work?” Addy sat down in the chair across from Riley, watching as he puffed his cigarette and shook his head. “But, don't you think they gonna miss you?”

“Look,” he said, and held out a fat roll of dollars.

“From Enos?”

“And other people too. Just everyone wanted to give a little something to make things easier. It was like I was the church collection plate.”

“But it won't last forever.”

“Last a while.”

“But if you don't go to work, they'll give your job to someone else, won't they?”

“Don't care if they do.” He sat up. “I'm thinking about buying us an automobile, Addy. You were just saying last week how you'd like to learn to drive.”

Addy doubled over, suddenly overcome by the baby pain again. She grasped the arms of the chair.

“What's wrong?”

She waited until the pain passed. “I'm all right. Just the baby's moving is all. Doing handstands I think. You want some breakfast?”

Riley nodded absently as Addy rose and started for the kitchen. She stopped when she saw a figure shifting on the front porch. She knew they'd have visitors for weeks to come and was not surprised, only sorry she hadn't fixed herself up. She opened the door.

Verilynn stood in the shadows, her eyes cast, her lips pale. She didn't look up at Addy and barely murmured, “I didn't find out until…”

Verilynn had no suitcase and her clothes looked strangely shabby. She entered the sitting room and sat down in the chair without taking off her coat or boots.
She didn't look at Riley as she passed him her silver cigarette case.

“Sent word to the school, Very.”

Verilynn nodded.

“I telephoned there. Tried to leave a message. Fella on the telephone said he never heard your name before.”

Verilynn looked up but said nothing.

“You never went to Oberlin, did you?”

Addy was shocked by the accusation and more shocked when Verilynn shook her head.

“Have you even been in Cleveland?”

“Yes, Riley. I've been in Cleveland.”

“Doing what?”

“I work in a nightclub. I work in a nightclub and I did not want Poppa to know.”

“What about Rich Enos? What about the money he gave you for nurse school?”

Verilynn laughed. “Who do you think got me the nightclub job?”

“Where you been then? Didn't he tell you about Poppa?”

“Course he did.”

“Then why didn't you come home?”

“I couldn't face all those people, Riley. I just couldn't.”

“Then why you home now?”

Verilynn looked at her brother for a long moment, then rose from her chair. Addy thought she meant to strike him or spit on him or anything but what she did. Verilynn sat
down beside Riley. She reached up, hooked her arms around his neck, buried her pretty face in his chest, and sobbed. Riley said, “Shh. I got you, Very. I got you.” He kissed her head and sailed his ink-stained palm over her long smooth back.

Addy moved out of the room and wasn't sure why she felt disturbed. She told herself not to be jealous, for it was only natural for a brother and sister to grieve together for their father. Then she told her baby to settle down, for the child kicked her so violently she felt ill.

Pies and cakes and every manner of food covered every flat surface in the kitchen. Addy took two pretty china plates from the cupboard, filled them, and brought them out to the sitting room. She stood at the entrance a moment, hesitant and embarrassed, for Very had laid her head in Riley's lap and was weeping with abandon. Addy cleared her throat and held out the plates. “Would you like—?”

The plates crashed to the floor. Verilynn stopped weeping and Riley looked up. Addy was gripping the wall with one hand and holding her abdomen with the other. She could scarcely catch her breath. “Something's wrong,” she said.

Verilynn and Riley were too surprised to move. It was Riley who saw the moisture soak through Addy's skirt. He pointed. “Adelaide. Have you lost your bladder?”

Addy looked down and began to cry. She thought the fluid was pee and was ashamed to have peed on the rug, especially in front of Riley and Verilynn. But more than shame she was in pain and afraid she was going to die from
it. She knew little about the events of childbirth and it was weeks too early for anything normal to be happening. She could barely croak out the words, “Get Emeline.”

Riley rose first. “I'll go.”

“No. NO!” Verilynn shouted. “Don't leave me here, Riley. Don't do it!”

Addy could not move to ease herself into a chair so she stood with her hand on the wall, begging, “Please, please one of you go get Emeline.”

Riley narrowed his eyes. “You're nearly a month away, Addy. You think it might just be all the work of putting Poppa to rest? You sure—?”

“I'm
sure
, Riley,” Addy said, trying to keep her tone even. “I know enough that a lady gets bad pains, a whole lot of them, and that tells her it's time. It's
time
, Riley. Please, please get Emeline.”

Verilynn stood and because she had not yet removed her coat and boots she raced out the door so fast that, except for her handbag on the floor at Riley's feet, it was like she'd never been there at all.

Riley was afraid. Addy could see that, and his fear made her own less important. She smiled at him, for her pain had retreated somewhat, and she said, “Might just be nothing, Riley. Best to have Emeline come along though, don't you think?”

Riley nodded dumbly and still did not move.

Addy said, “How about you help me down the hall and I'll get off my feet and see doesn't that make it go away.”

Riley nodded and felt better. He put his hand around her waist and let Addy lean on him. “You do still have a month to go.”

“Yes. Well, few weeks at least. Likely just Leam doing some extra hard kicking and punching today.”

“Maybe he's gonna be a boxer.” Riley smiled. “Maybe he's gonna be another Jack Johnson.”

“Or maybe
he's
gonna be a
Beatrice
and
she's
just giving her Mama a little taste of what's to come. Mamas and daughters do have their struggles.”