We listen to the hum of the car engine and the tires gripping the road. The radio has changed to something that sounds like a love song. My mother is staring straight ahead. Every once in a while, a car comes from the other direction and lights up her face in its headlights. Her cheekbones look like diving boards jutting over two empty pools. They must not have given her much to drink up in the hospital. I didn’t notice earlier how her once-lush lips are chapped and split.
We have come to the crest of the mountain where we can see down into The Big Valley.
“I haven’t been off the hospital grounds in such a long time,” Mama says. “Everything seems bigger and smells so much better than I remember.” She breathes in the fresh pine air, lets out a sigh. “I missed Christmas with you.”
Thinking back on how Woody and I trimmed the tree and I sang, “Oh, Come All Ye Faithful,” makes my temper flair and I cannot hold back from saying, “I wish Gramma was as dead as she tried to make you. That’s the birthday wish I’m making this year.” I will never tell my mother that I almost made that come true. She wouldn’t like that. She is the biggest turn-your-cheek-the-other-way person I have ever met.
Mama looks down at now sleeping Woody and whispers, “Your grandmother doesn’t understand the wrongness of what she did. In her mind, she was doing what was right. Defending her way of life… her family. She’s sick. Your heart has to go out to her, Shen.”
No, it does not. My heart is not going anywhere near her. Ever. I will never forgive that old woman.
When we come to the part in the road where I can see Lexington spread out beneath us, I think of Papa and Grampa and Uncle Blackie at the house. I worriedly ask, “Are we going back to Lilyfield?”
Mama says, “No, baby. Sam has made other arrangements for us. We’ll be staying with Beezy for… I’m not sure how long.”
That would probably be for the best. For a little while anyway. But in the long run, Lilyfield is our home. It’s all we got. I don’t tell her that. Mama looks completely drained and I’m feeling the same way, so just like my twin, I lay my head on her shoulder. She kisses me on the forehead and whispers, “Tomorrow is a river,” like I knew she would. I honestly cannot imagine how all my dreams can come true, but just for the littlest bit of time, I so desperately need to.
Chapter Thirty-four
The sound of sirens blaring through my dreams wakes me. And the smell of smoke.
A fire is raging, flames licking out of the roof and windows of the second most magnificent house in all of Rockbridge County.
Lilyfield is burning.
“Papa,” I scream out the car window. The heat from the blaze is toasting my cheeks when Curry pulls to a stop alongside Lee Road. He must’ve seen the billowing clouds of smoke from the foothills and headed right over here.
Mama yells, “Shenny, wait!” but I jump out of the car. Shout into the stunned crowd that’s standing helplessly by, some in their pajamas, “Did… did His Honor get out all right?”
“Yeah. I saw him talking to the sheriff,” someone in the crowd calls back.
Once I know that Papa is alive and well, I turn back to watch the worst blaze I have ever seen. I love Lilyfield, so I’m surprised to feel only a little distraught seeing it go up, the same way you would watching somebody else’s home. I know a lot of good things happened in this house, but I can’t hardly remember back that far.
When Woody, Mama, Sam, and Curry come to my side, we try to find a place amongst the other folks who’ve arrived to watch the firemen fighting the conflagration. The trees in the front woods have already burned so there is a clear view of the house. A couple of people say when they spot her, “Is that Evelyn Carmody?” and there is also worried speculation. “How could such an awful fire get started?” Someone else in the back of the throng-Mr. Slidell from the drugstore, I recognize his high-pitched voice-says, “Has anybody seen the twins?”
I call back to him, “We’re fine, Mr. Slidell,” because even though he’s such a crabby man, I am touched by his concern.
When E. J. hears my voice, like a homing pigeon, he flies to our sides. Following close behind him are Louise, Beezy, and a sooty-looking Mr. Cole Jackson. All three of them just about collapse when they see Woody and me and Mama. I think Mr. Cole might be in shock, the way he is shaking. “Evelyn… I prayed every single night for your return.”
Mama says, “Oh, Cole. It’s so good to see you,” and gives him a hug.
“How do, ma’am.” Lou steps up and introduces herself. “I heard a lot about ya. It’s Friday the thirteenth. Be careful.”
Lou has no way of knowing that it’s the luckiest day of my mother’s life.
Blind Beezy, who’s standing beside Mr. Cole, is wailing and waving her arms in the air. “Evie? Evie?”
Mama reaches for her, brings Beezy’s hands to her face so she can feel that it really is her. “It’s… so good to see you,” they say to each other.
Then Beezy must’ve heard Sam talking to one of the firemen who has just come away from the flames to get a cool drink, because she shouts out, “Sam? Sammy, is that you?”
Her boy comes over fast to pat her little back.
Beezy blubbers, “Curry came by the house to tell me what ya were tryin’ to do… but-”
Sam says, “It’s done now, Mama.”
As we are standing together listening to the snap and crackle as the fire destroys our home, E. J. belts his arm around my sister’s waist and pulls her close. He says to me, “I smelled the smoke and Papa told me to run over to the Calhouns’ and tell them to call the fire department. I knew you wasn’t up there ’cause Curry and Sam told me where ya was when they came and got Woody. I ran over the steppin’ stones fast as I could, told Lou, Beezy, and Mr. Cole ’bout your trip to the hospital, then I rushed to the tree with a bucket of water, but… it went up so fast. I’m sorry… the fort is gone.”
An ambulance comes careening down our driveway and behind it, two county cars. My uncle Blackie and grampa Gus are in the first car, my father in the following one. That must mean that Gramma Ruth Love got hurt in the fire and is being taken to the hospital.
When they drive past the crowd, Papa doesn’t notice his wife and girls staring along with the rest of the town. His eyes are closed. As I look at his handsome profile passing me by, still, no matter what he has done to me and Woody or even Mama, no matter how much he has hurt us, I have to grip on to Woody’s hand to keep myself from chasing the car down the road, stop myself from shouting out, “I still love you, Papa. I’m sorry your house is burning down.”
Chapter Thirty-five
It’s Independence Day.
There was a parade and potato-sack games and some fiddle music this morning. Mama packed a picnic of pimento cheese sandwiches and yellow Jell-O, so now we’re spread out with everyone else from town. By the creek, where it winds through Buffalo Park. It’s so good to eat our mother’s crummy cooking again, but our blanket’s up against the Tittles’ blanket and I confess to stealing a drumstick out of their basket. Dorry Tittle really knows how to fry. E. J. and Woody are over at the swings acting all lovesick and moony. My mama picks Baby Fay up off the blanket and cradles her in her arms. I am pretending to nap so I can listen in on her and Mrs. Tittle’s hushed women voices. Mama has resisted answering my questions. She doesn’t want Woody and me to be upset. Eavesdropping runs in my blood.
“I heard some of what happened from the gals at church,” Mrs. Tittle says to her. “Our plan didn’t go quite like we hoped, did it.”