She trembled when he started to speak.
“Don’t take on so, Annie girl, I’m not dead yet.” Uncle Teel managed a weak smile. “Right foolish of me, but I got to thinking I wouldn’t have no trouble going down to the privy and back without nary a one of you catching me at it. Pretty near did it. Didn’t figure on being mistook for no haint though.”
It took some doing, but Aunt Annie and Grandma got Uncle Teel on his feet and back into bed without having to wake Uncle Ed. Aunt Annie tended to him while Grandma made cocoa to help everybody settle down and get back to sleep.
The morning sun hopscotched across the porch and woke us up. Or maybe Grandma did. She was sweeping under the table we were sleeping on. I sat up and rubbed the grit from my eyes.
“Time to start the day,” she said. “Remember, early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
“Are we wealthy?” I asked, as I splashed water on my face.
“I swan, you beat all with the questions you come up with.”
“Well, you and Grandpa get up real early, and you’re always saying that.”
“Let me figure on that a minute,” she replied. “We have our family and our health, that’s the most important. We own our home and land and a good automobile too. There’s plenty of food for us and extra to share. We don’t owe a dime to a solitary soul unless you count the tithes we owe to God, but we pay those faithful every week. By that way of looking at it, I reckon there’s some would say we’re wealthy. Now that doesn’t mean to say we have idle money, because we don’t. Despite that, we live a life of abundance. But don’t you be getting yourself uppity about it. The Bible says, ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.’ ”
I started to say, “Yes ma’am,” but she wasn’t quite finished.
“For unto whomsoever much is given, of him much shall be required,” she continued, “so we’re expected to help people who aren’t as well off. I like to think we have a gracious plenty. Enough to be thankful, but not prideful. Enough to share with those who are in need. Here’s something I hope you’ll remember all your life—the gift comes with the giving and not the getting.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said.
10
Most Call Me Tolly
We had only been at Uncle Teel’s for a few days when Grandma spotted a hive low in a hollow tree near the house, a few bees hovering near the opening. She covered herself in Uncle Teel’s canvas hunting pants, put her dress on over them, and added boots, jacket, and long leather work gloves. She cut a square six-inch hole in a pillowcase and stitched in a piece of screening she’d cut from an old door, making a pretty good bee mask. A hunting cap, the kind with ear flaps, went on her head. She looked a fright, but she was ready.
First she piled dead brush around the trunk of the tree, setting it on fire to smoke the bees out. As the smoke died down, she raided the deserted hive, breaking out dripping pieces of the comb and dropping them into a bucket, still leaving some for the bees. Vonnie and I watched from a safe distance.
On the way home Grandma picked up a piece of the comb and sniffed it. “That should be real good honey. It’s from purple clover from the smell of it. We’ll try it out for breakfast.”
I took Uncle Teel a soft scrambled egg and a glass of milk with a generous amount of the honey in it. He had taken to spending much of his day sitting on the porch with Uncle Ed, talking about old times and occasionally chuckling about some tomfoolery or other he and Uncle Teel had been into as boys, but mainly just looking out over the valley, taking solace from the land they both loved.
Grandma sent me and Vonnie to scavenge the untended garden for whatever we could find. There were new potatoes big enough for creaming and plenty of wild onions. Half a dozen rhubarb plants looked healthy, and a ragged row of leaf lettuce promised greens for as long as we needed them. Uncle Ed asked for fried ham and creamed potatoes and wilted lettuce salad for supper. He had things at home to tend to, so he was leaving out at daybreak the next day.
Grandma was to drop him a note and let him know when he was to come for us.
The next morning she made up a sack of leftover ham and biscuits and a jug of water to tide him over on the trip home. After saying his goodbyes to the rest of us, Uncle Ed kissed Uncle Teel on the forehead, got in the car, and drove away, waving an arm out the window until he disappeared around the curve of the mountain.
The man walking up the path was round as a jack-o’-lantern, his faded orange hair streaked with silver. He walked with a limp that caused a lopsided bounce. I was of a mind to split him open right there to see if pumpkin flesh and seeds spilled out.
“Good mornin’ to you,” he called out, a snaggletooth smile on his face. “Let me interduce myself proper-like. I’m Tolerable Thigpen from down near the flats. Most call me Tolly. I seen Teel had company and wanted to see if I can help you folks. I’m a widderer myself since my missus, Virgie, God rest her, was bit by a serpent and the good Lord took her on to Glory. Still I praise His name. I been plannin’ to go to town on Saturday, but ain’t no reason I can’t go d’rectly if they’s anything you’re in need of.” He was studying Grandma real close.
She handed him some money
