sadness, no anger. They spoke of their imminent death as casually as if they were discussing the weather. Except that in a day or two, they died.
(Of course, I’ve also heard even older relatives claim they were ready to go and then linger on for another five or six years in increasing impatience. As if they’d missed a celestial bus and had to wait till the next one swung past them again.)
But Maidie’s forebodings touched an even deeper, more primal level that my brothers and I won’t even discuss. We know Daddy’s getting old and he’s not as strong as he used to be. But his spine is still straight as a flagpole and his mind is as sharp as it ever was, so we tell ourselves that he’s going to live forever.
Intellectually, we know it isn’t so.
Emotionally?
Once when I was little, I woke up crying in the night because I had suddenly realized that everyone dies—my cats, my chicken, my brothers, my parents—everyone, and it was breaking my heart to think I might be left alone. He had picked me up and carried me out to the porch swing. As I sat on his lap with my head against his chest and we gently swung back and forth in the moonlight, he had solemnly promised me that he would not die till I was an old, old woman.
I remind myself that he’s never yet broken a promise to me.
And thirty-nine isn’t old, old.
“Maidie, are you sure he was asking questions about religion for himself and not so’s he could pass it on to someone else?”
“Now why would he do that? He wants to know about God, all he’s got to do is talk to Herman’s wife. Nadine’s his own daughter-in-law. She’d tell him all about it.”
“Yeah, and then she’d try to haul him off to her church, wouldn’t she?”
Nadine’s one of those straitlaced born-again Blalocks from Black Creek and she’s always trying to get us to go visit her home church. Their preacher’s a male chauvinist whose bark is worse than his bite. I once sat through a sermon that was basically a reminder that a woman’s place is in the home, yet immediately afterward he told me quite sincerely how proud they all were that I was now a judge.
I grinned at Maidie. “Daddy probably feels it’s safe to ask you. He knows you won’t try to get him to Mt. Olive.”
Like it or not, our churches are the last bastion of self-segregation. No white would ever be turned away from a black church; no white church would ever bar its doors to blacks. We’re tolerant as hell and on Sunday morning, we smile when the nursery class sings
All the same, our churches still split along racial lines for the most part.
“Daddy may want to get right with the Lord, Maidie, but he also might be up to something. You say you never know when he’s going to be home these days. What’s he doing?”
“Oh, honey. You asking me where he rambles? That’s like asking me where this cat goes when I put him out for the night.”
“Then tell me this. Did Mother ever have any fancy jewelry?”
“Why sure she did. You remember that pretty ring Mr. Kezzie give her for their anniversary and them sapphire earrings? Didn’t he give them earrings to you? I know he gave the ring to Will when he married Amy. And—”
“No, I’m talking diamond earrings worth thousands.”
Maidie shook her head. “Your mama had some diamond earrings from her mama. You don’t mean them, do you?”
“No.”
Those went to Aunt Zell at Mother’s death, but again, they were simple teardrops, nothing like the glittery splash I had seen Daddy snatch up before I could get a good look.
“Why you asking about her stuff?”
“Just wondering,” I said.
She cut her eyes at me, but Cletus came in then and I quickly stood up to go.
“I thought I saw your car up at the house,” he said. “You ain’t staying for supper?”
“And leave you with only one pork chop?” I teased.
“That what smells so good?”
He insisted on giving me a dozen eggs and some fresh ten-dergreen for a salad and then went into the bathroom to wash up. I hugged Maidie and told her not to worry. “Daddy’s going to be just fine, but you call me if it looks like he’s up to something, okay?”
“If you say so, honey. But you know how he don’t like nobody hound-dogging him, so you can’t tell him I told you.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
I could have checked back by Seth’s again, but it was getting on for dark and besides, I was starting to have second thoughts. What if I’d totally misunderstood? What if that earring had been nice rhinestones instead of diamonds? Good period costume jewelry can fetch decent prices these days and the best seems to come from estate sales.
