Now that I look back, it seems to me that after the cafe closed, the heart of the town just stopped beating. Funny how a little knockabout like that brought so many people together.
At least we all have our memories, and I’ve still got my old sweetheart with me.
… Dot Weems …
P.S. If any of you ever get to Fairhope, Alabama, look us up. I’ll be the one sitting on the back porch, cleaning all the fish.
… …
APRIL 19, 1988
The second Easter after Mrs. Threadgoode died, Evelyn was determined to make it to the cemetery. She bought a beautiful spray of white Easter lilies and drove out in her new pink Cadillac, wearing her fourteen-karat studded bumblebee pin with the emerald eyes, another award.
Earlier today, she’d been to brunch with her Mary Kay group, so it was late afternoon. Most of the people had been there and gone already, but the cemetery was filled with spectacular Easter arrangements of every color.
Evelyn had to drive around for a while before she finally found the Threadgoode family plot. The first grave she found was Ruth Jamison’s. She walked on down the row and found the big double headstone with the angeclass="underline"
WILLIAM JAMES
THREADGOODE
1850–1929 ALICE LEE CLOUD
THREADGOODE
1856–1932
BELOVED PARENTS
NOT LOST
BUT GONE BEFORE
WHERE WE SHALL MEET AGAIN
Next to them was:
JAMES LEE (BUDDY) THREADGOODE
1898–1919
A YOUTH CUT DOWN BEFORE HIS TIME
WHO LIVES ON IN OUR HEARTS
She found Edward’s, Cleo’s, and Mildred’s graves; but she couldn’t find her friend’s, and she began to panic. Where was Mrs. Threadgoode?
Finally, one row down on the right, she saw:
ALBERT THREADGOODE
1930–1978
OUR ANGEL ON THIS EARTH
SAFE AT LAST IN THE ARMS OF JESUS
She looked beside Albert’s grave, and there it was:
MRS. VIRGINIA (NINNY) THREADGOODE
1899–1986
GONE HOME
The memory and sweetness of the old woman flooded back in an instant, and she realized just how much she missed her. Tears ran down her face while she placed the flowers, and then she went about the business of pulling up all the little weeds that had grown up around the tombstone. She consoled herself by thinking that one thing was for sure; if there really was a heaven, Mrs. Threadgoode was certainly there. She wondered if there would ever be a pure, untouched soul like her on this earth again.… She doubted it.
It’s funny, Evelyn thought. Because of knowing Mrs. Threadgoode, she was not as scared of getting old or dying as she had once been, and death did not seem all that far away. Even today, it was as if Mrs. Threadgoode was just standing behind a door.
Evelyn began quietly speaking to her friend. “I’m sorry I haven’t gotten out here sooner, Mrs. Threadgoode. You’ll never know how many times I’ve thought about you and wished I could speak to you. I felt so bad I didn’t get to see you before you died. I just never dreamed in a million years that I would never see you again. I never did get a chance to thank you. If it hadn’t been for you talking to me like you did every week, I don’t know what I would have done.”
She paused for a moment, and then went on, “I got that pink Cadillac for us, Mrs. Threadgoode. I thought it would make me happy, but you know, it didn’t mean half as much without you to go for a ride in it with me. I’ve often wished I could come and pick you up and we could go on a Sunday drive, or over to Ollie’s for some barbecue.”
She moved to the other side of the headstone and continued pulling the weeds and talking. “I’ve been asked to do some work with the mental health group, over at the university hospital … and I might do it.” She laughed. “I told Ed, I might as well work for a disease I’ve had.”
“And you’re not going to believe this, Mrs. Threadgoode, but I’m a grandmother now. Twice. Janice had twin girls. And you remember Ed’s mother, Big Momma? Well, we put her over at Meadowlark Manor, and she likes it much better, and I was just as glad.… I hated going out to Rose Terrace after you died. The last time I went, Geneene told me that Vesta Adcock is crazy as ever, still upset over Mr. Dunaway leaving.
“Everybody misses you: Geneene, your neighbors the Hartmans … I went out there and got the things you left me, and I use those recipes all the time. Oh, by the way, I’ve lost forty-three pounds since the last time you saw me. I still have five more to go.
“And, let’s see, your friend Ocie died last month, but then, I guess you know that. Oh, I knew there was another thing I had to tell you:
“Remember that picture of you in the blue polka-dotted dress, you made down at Loveman’s? I have it framed and sitting on my occasional table in the living room, and when one of my customers saw it, she said, ‘Evelyn, you look exactly like your mother! … Isn’t that something, Mrs. Threadgoode?”
Evelyn told her friend everything she could think of that had happened in the last year, and she didn’t leave until she felt sure in her heart that Mrs. Threadgoode knew she was really okay.
Evelyn was smiling and happy as she walked back to the car; but as she passed Ruth’s grave, she stopped.
Something was there that hadn’t been there before. Sitting on the headstone was a glass jar filled with freshly cut little pink sweetheart roses. Beside the jar was an envelope addressed in thin, scratchy handwriting:
FOR RUTH JAMISON
Surprised, Evelyn picked up the envelope. Inside was an old-fashioned Easter card, with a picture of a little girl holding a basket of multicolored eggs. She opened the card:
FOR A SPECIAL PERSON AS NICE AS YOU,
WHO’S KIND AND CONSIDERATE IN ALL YOU DO,
THE FAIREST, THE SQUAREST,
MOST LOVING AND TRUE,
THAT ALL ADDS UP TO
WONDERFUL YOU!
And the card was signed:
I’ll always remember.
Your friend,
The Bee Charmer
Evelyn stood with the card in her hand and looked all around the cemetery; but no one was there.
MARCH 17, 1988
Elderly Woman Reported Missing
Mrs. Vesta Adcock, an 83-year-old resident of the Rose Terrace Nursing Home, apparently walked off the premises yesterday, after announcing that she needed a breath of fresh air, and has not returned.
When last seen, she was wearing a pink chenille robe with fox furs, royal-blue fuzzy-type slippers, and may have been wearing a red stocking cap and carrying a black beaded purse.
A bus driver remembered someone answering to that description getting on his bus near the home late yesterday and asking for a transfer.
If you have seen anyone fitting that description, you are asked to call Mrs. Virginia Mae Schmitt, director of the nursing home, at 555-7760.
The woman’s son, Mr. Earl Adcock, Jr., of New Orleans, said that his mother may have become disoriented.