Casteel 1 - Heaven (15 page)

We had a little change that Tom had earned doing odd jobs for valley wives, but it sure was gonna hurt giving up any of it in hopes of that river of gold flowing uphill to us.

Sitting on Miss Deale's lap, Our Jane coughed, sneezed, needing someone to help her blow her nose, to go to the bathroom. “I'll do that,” I whispered, leading her out to where she could again be held in thrall by the pretty ladies' room with its row of pure white basins, its liquid soaps, its paper hand towels. She entered a tiny compartment where she could sit and not smell “bad” odors, and then had the pleasure of flushing the toilet. A real compulsion she had to keep dropping in paper so she could watch it go down, flushing and flushing. When we returned, I refused to let her sit on Miss Deale again and wrinkle that pretty suit. Our Jane complained her feet hurt in shoes that were too small, and it was too cold in here, and why did that man up there yell and take so long to finish talking? And when did we stand to sing again? Our

Jane loved to sing, though she couldn't carry a tune. “Sssh,” I cautioned, lifting my sweetest little

one up on my lap. “It will soon be over, and we'll sing again, and then we can have ice cream in the store.”

For an ice-​cream cone Our Jane would have walked on red-​hot coals.

“Who's gonna pay for it?” Tom whispered worriedly. “We can't let Miss Deale do it again. And we won't have any cash left if we drop our change into t'collection plate.”

“Don't drop it in. Just pretend you do. We're the poor, the needy, the beset and bereftand rivers don't flow upward, do they?”

Tom reluctantly agreed, though he would have been willing to gamble on God's generosity. We did have to keep what money we had left to buy Keith and Our Jane their ice cream, if nothing else. At least we could do that for them.

The collection plate was passed down our aisle. “I'll pay for all of us,” whispered Miss Deale when Tom reached into his pocket. “You keep what you have for yourselves”and darn if she didn't drop in two whole dollars!

“Now,” I whispered when the last hymn was over and Miss Deale was standing and collecting her

purse, pulling on her fine leather gloves, picking up her personal hymnbook and Bible, “head fast for the door, and don't hesitate for anything!”

Our Jane resisted, dragging her feet. Quickly I swept her up, and she let out a howl. “ICE CREAM! Hey-​lee, ICE CREAM!” And that gave Miss Deale the chance to catch up with us as we slipped by Reverend Wise and his grim wife.

“Stop, wait a minute!” called Miss Deale, hurrying after us, her high heels clicking on the slippery pavement.

“It's no use, Tom,” I whispered as he tried to support Grandpa and keep him from falling. “Let's make up good excuses so she won't fall and break a leg.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” gasped Miss Deale when we turned to wait for her. “What do you mean hurrying off when you know I promised Our Jane and Keith ice cream? Don't the rest of you still like treats?”

“We'll always adore ice cream!” Fanny declared fervently, as Our Jane stretched her arms toward her ice-​cream godmother. Like a burr Our Jane clung to our teacher.

"Now let's all go where it's warm, and sit and

relax, have some fun." Miss Deale turned and led the way back toward Stonewall's Pharmacy, with Keith skipping along, din: g to her free hand, and Fanny was almost as childish-​acting as Keith and Our Jane . . . and just a few minutes ago she'd been ready to seduce some pimply-​faced valley boy if he'd give her a quarter.

“And how is your father?” called back Miss Deale, turning into the drugstore. “I haven't seen him lately.”

“He'll come home one day,” I said in a forbidding way, hoping and praying she'd never hear about his disease.

“And your mother, Sarah, why didn't she come today?”

“She's home, not feeling so well, just resting.” “Tom told me you've been ill; you look fine, though much thinner.”

“I'll be coming back to school, soon. .”

“And Keith and Jane, when will they be coming back?” she persisted, her sky-​blue eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Both have been kinda sickly lately. . .”

"Heaven, I want your honesty. I'm your friend. A friend is someone you can depend on, always, who

is there to help when you need it. A friend understands. I want to help, need to help, so if there's anything at all that I can do, I want you or Tom to tell me what you need. I'm not rich, but I'm not poor, either. My father left me a small inheritance when he died. My mother still lives in Baltimore, and isn't feeling too well lately. So, before I go home for the Christmas holidays, I want you to tell me what I can do to help make your lives happy and more bearable."

Here was my golden chance. Opportunity seldom knocked twice on any doorbut pride tightened my throat and froze my tongue, and because I didn't speak out, neither did Tom, or Grandpa. Fanny the bold and shameless had, fortunately or unfortunately, wandered away to flip through pages of magazines.

And while I stood just inside the door, debating the wisdom of confessing everything, Miss Deale turned to stare at Grandpa sitting so dejectedly on a padded bench behind a small table. “Poor dear man, he misses his wife, doesn't he?” she asked with so much compassion. “And you must miss her just as much.” Then she was meeting my eyes and smiling warmly. "I've just had the most marvelous ideaice cream is fine, but not a real meal. I'm planning to have

lunch in a restaurant. And I hate eating alone, it makes everyone stare-- please do me the honor of joining me, and that will give you time to tell me what's been going on in your lives."

“We'd love To!” Fanny shouted eagerly. Suddenly she was there, her smile a yard wide. She had the nose of a bloodhound for a free meal.

“Thank you very much, but I'm afraid we can't accept,” I said briskly, caught in my own snare of devilish stubbornness, all the time wishing I could throw away my pride and be like Fanny. “It was very nice of you to ask, more than kind, but we have to get home before dark.”

“Don't ya listen t'her, Miss Deale,” yelled Fanny. “We're hungry since Pa went away! Ma's gone, Granny's dead, an it will take Grandpa t'rest of this day t'make t'trip back. An when we get there we won't have nothin much t'eat. An it will be dark fore we reach there!”

“But Pa's coming back any day,” I hurriedly added. “Isn't he, Tom?”

“Yeah, any day,” confirmed Tom, looking wistfully at the restaurant across the street. It was one we'd often stared into, wishing that just once we could sit at a round table with a crisp white tablecloth, with

a crystal vase holding a single red rose, with waiters wearing black and white, and pretty chairs with red velvet seats; oh, how lovely the combination of white, red, and gold. How clean and perfumy it must smell in there, not to mention how warm it had to be, and how delicious the food would surely be.

“And your mother is gone. ?” questioned Miss Deale with a strange look on her pretty face. “Now, I've heard rumors about town that say she has gone for good. Is that true?”

“Don't know,” I answered shortly. “She may change her mind and come back. She's like that.” “SHE AIN'T LIKE THAT!” yelled Fanny.

“She's neva comin back! She left a note an said so. Pa read it an got madder'n hell! Then he ran out t' get her. . . an we're suffering, Miss Deale, all of us . . . ain't got no ma, ain't got no pa, an not eva got enough food t'eat, or warm clothes t'wear, an half t'time no wood t'buris--- why , it's awful, downright awful!”

I could have shot Fanny dead on the spot. Fanny had screamed out our humiliating condition right in the drugstore where perhaps twenty pairs of ears heard every word she said.

I stood with my face flushed, wishing I could sink through the floor or go up in smoke, so

embarrassed and ashamed to have all our secrets exposed. It was like being naked in public. I wanted to stop Fanny, who went on and on telling more about our lives and family secrets. Then I glanced over at Grandpa, and back at Keith and Our Jane, and sighed heavily. What was pride when compared to seeing huge eyes sunken in deep, hungry hollows? What kind of fool was I to reject the kindness of this wonderful, caring woman? An idiot, I decided. Fanny had ten times more sense.

“Come now, Heaven, if Fanny wants to eat in a restaurant, and Tom looks as if he would as well, and Jane and Keith are so thin, should you vote against the majority? You are outvoted, and it's decided. The Casteel family are my dinner guests this Sunday, and every Sunday until your father is back to take care of you all.”

Oh, I had to swallow to keep from crying. “Only on the condition that you allow us to repay you someday when we can.”

“Why, of course, Heaven.”

Fate had stepped in, wearing an expensive suit with a mink collarand when fate came dressed like that, who could resist?

Like Moses leading his starving horde, Miss

Deale strode across Main Street, with Our Jane clinging devotedly to her gloved hand. Prouder than one of those peacocks-​I'd never seen, she entered that fancy restaurant where men in black and white stared at us as if we were circus freaks they fervently hoped would vanish. Other diners stared, wrinkled their noses, and looked contemptuous, but Miss Deale smiled at everyone.

“Why, good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Holiday,” she greeted pleasantly, nodding to a handsome- looking couple dressed as finely as she was, “how nice to see you again. Your son is doing marvelously in school. I know you're proud of him. It's so wonderful to have a family to dine with me.” She sailed like a ship knowing its home port, despite the ragged line behind her, heading toward the best table in the restaurant.

Once there, she arrogantly gestured to an astonished older man to seat us properly as she explained to us, “This table has the best view of your mountain.”

I was overwhelmed, scared, embarrassed. In a fancy gold chair with crimson velvet covering the seat and back, I sat as if in a dream of royal riches. Our Jane's nose was running again. Tom quickly grabbed

at Keith and asked directions to the nearest men's room. Fanny smiled at everyone as if she truly belonged here, no matter how shabby she looked. Before Fanny would even sit, as the waiter held her chair, she tugged off her three sweaters one by one. Every pair of eyes in the place watched with astonishment and dismay, no doubt thinking Fanny would strip to her skinas did I. However, Fanny stopped at her shabby dress and smiled brilliantly at Miss Deale.

“Neva felt so happy in my whole miserable life as I do right now.”

“Why, Fanny, that's sweet, and hearing you say that makes me feel just as happy.”

Keith was not as fond of flushing as was Our Jane, and he and Tom came rushing back as if afraid they'd miss something wonderful. Tom beamed at me happily. “Some Christmas treat, right, Heavenly, right?”

Oooh, yes! Christmas was only five days away. I stared at the tall, splendid tree in the corner, at the poinsettias placed around the room. “Ain't it pretty, though, Heaven?” Fanny said much too loudly. “When I'm rich an famous I'll lunch like this every day, every day in t'year!”

Miss Deale beamed at all of us in turn. “Now, isn't this nice? Much better than you going your way and me going mine. You can each tell me what you'd like most. We'll start with you, Mr. Casteel.”

“I'll jus have what t'rest of ya does,” muttered Grandpa, appearing overwhelmed and ill at ease. He kept trying to hide his mouth with his hand, afraid others would see his missing teeth, his watery eyes still downcast, as if still awed to be seated where he was.

“Miss Deale,” Fanny said without hesitation, “ya pick out t'best there is, what ya like most, an that's what we all want. An dessert. Jus leave out t'collards, t'biscuits an gravy.”

Even after that Miss Deale managed to keep her compassionate expression.

“Yes, Fanny,” she concluded, “a very good idea, I must say, for me to select what I like most for all of you. Now, is anyone here who doesn't like beef?”

Beef! We never had beef at home, and it would put color in the cheeks of Our Jane and Keith.

“Love beef!” Fanny cried with loud, lusty passion. Grandpa nodded, Our Jane sat looking wide- eyed all around, and Keith had his eyes on his small

sister, while Tom just glowed. “Anything you like will suit us just fine,” I said

humbly, everlastingly grateful to be here, and at the same time so afraid we'd shame her yet with our bad table manners.

Miss Deale lifted her napkin, which was folded like a flower, and shook it open, then slipped it over her lap. I quickly did the same, even as I kicked Fanny's shin under the table, and helped Keith with his napkin, as Miss Deale helped Our Jane with hers. Grandpa somehow managed to catch on and did the same; so did Tom. “Now, for the first course we should have salad or soup. The entrŽe will be meat and vegetables. If you'd rather have seafood, lamb, pork, speak up now.”

“We'll have beef,” stated Fanny, almost drooling.

“Fine, everybody agreed?” We all nodded, even Our Jane and Keith. "Now . . . we'll have to decide if we want our

beef roasted rare, medium, or well doneor would you rather have steak?"

Baffled again, Tom and I met eyes. “Roast beef,” I whispered. In my favorite books all the really romantic men ate roast beef.

“Good, I adore roast beef myself, medium rare, I think, for all of us. And we'll have potatoes . . . and for vegetables”

“Don't want none,” Fanny informed quickly. “Jus give me t'meat, t'taters, an t'dessert.”

“That's not a well-​balanced meal,” Miss Deale went on without even glancing up from her menu as the waiter took ours away and delicately brushed them off. “We'll all have a tossed salad, and green beans. We should enjoy that, don't you agree, Mr. Casteel?”

Grandpa nodded dumbly, appearing so intimidated I doubted he'd be able to eat anything. As far as I knew, Grandpa had never eaten “out.”

It wasn't a meal . . . it was a feast!

Huge plates of salad were put before us. We just stared for a few minutes before I lifted my eyes to watch which fork Miss Deale used, and then I picked up mine. Tom did the same, but Fanny just plucked out what she wanted with her fingers until I nudged her under the table again. Our Jane picked at hers, and Keith looked troubled as he did his best to swallow strange food without crying. Miss Deale buttered two hot rolls and handed one each to Our Jane and Keith. “Try that with your salads; it helps a lot.”