Garden of Angels (4 page)

Four

The recovery room held several patients, all bedded down behind white curtains. I don’t know why I thought Mama would be the only person there and that a troop of nurses would be hovering around her bed, but that was not the case. She lay with IVs in her arm and wires that led to a machine keeping track of her heartbeat. We crowded around her bed like boats around an island searching for safe harbor before a storm. I could see a bandage at the neck of her hospital gown.

“Hi,” Mama said. “It’s all over.” Her voice sounded hoarse and her lips looked parched.

“You did fine, Joy,” Papa said.

“I know the truth,” Mama said. “I have cancer.”

“You
had
cancer,” I whispered. “They cut it out.”

“The surgeon said it’ll take some time before the full pathology report comes back from the lab.”

Papa leaned over and cupped her cheek. “Don’t you go worrying about it, you hear? Right now, you just rest and get your strength back. We’ll be waiting for you in your room.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I love you all so much.”

“We love you too,” Adel said, tears running down her cheeks.

I longed to throw my arms around my mother and not let go, but the tubes and wires and her frailty overwhelmed me. I wanted to run far away from this place where pain-filled voices calling out to nurses for relief floated around the room like whispering ghosts. I wanted time to absorb the bad news, to think about this plague that had fallen on my mother so undeservedly.

“Come on, girls,” Papa said. “Let’s let your mother rest.”

I fled the recovery room ahead of the others.

On Friday morning Mama was sitting up in bed when we came to visit. Her left arm was wrapped in an Ace bandage and held up by pulleys anchored to a contraption next to her bed. “To keep the swelling down,” she told us. Long tubes were visible under her bedclothes. “Drainage tubes,” she explained. “The nurses empty them a couple times a day. And they change the bandages too.”

I saw Adel shudder, but I didn’t let on that it affected me one bit.

“I’ll be taking the girls home today. Then I’ll be coming back to stay awhile,” Papa said.

“But your job—” Mama started.

“Will be there waiting for me when this is all over,” Papa finished. “I’m the boss, remember?”

Both Adel and I protested being taken home, but Papa wouldn’t put up with it. “There is nothing for the two of you to do here. Your mother needs her rest and you both have obligations. I expect you both to stay at home and carry on life as usual. I will bring your mother home when the doctor says I can. In the meantime, I will call home every night and we can talk to one another.”

I expected Adel to persuade Papa otherwise. She had strategies for getting her way with him, but now, when I was counting on her to use her bag of tricks, she just nodded and agreed to his mandates. “We’ll keep things in order,” she said.

Out in the hall, Papa looked me in the eye and said, “Adel is in charge.”

I started to protest. Papa didn’t give me a chance.

“I don’t want your mother to worry one iota about what’s going on in her house. I expect the house to be clean, meals prepared, clothes washed and squabbling kept to a minimum. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Papa,” I said, torn between wanting to object and knowing better.

“Say your goodbyes to your mama, and let’s get going. It’s a long drive.”

We did and it was all I could do to keep from bawling. Papa told Mama he’d see her Saturday around lunchtime and kissed her goodbye. Finally, we left Emory and headed out of Atlanta toward Conners, leaving Mama behind. It hardly seemed like a week had passed since I’d stood in the school halls talking to Becky Sue about homework and setting plans for the weekend. Just a single week gone out of September 1974, yet somehow I felt years older. And a whole lot sadder.

After breakfast on Saturday, Papa packed and left. Adel and I stood on the veranda and watched his car disappear around the corner. “Come on,” Adel said. “We’ve got chores.”

Her bossing me was starting already, and Papa not gone two minutes. “I thought I’d work in the yard,” I said politely. “You know how Mama loves her gardens, and they need tending.”

To my surprise, Adel said, “That’s a good idea. I’ll start in the house.”

The weather was cooler and the sun was shining as I walked to the garden shed and dragged out tools. I set to work pruning the butterfly bushes, Latin name
Buddleia,
and clipping the dead and dying clusters off the hydrangeas. I was making a mental list of what I had to do to keep the gardens beautiful until Mama could work them again when Becky Sue came around the corner of the house.

“Hey,” she said. “I waited as long as I could before coming over. How’s your mama?”

Without warning, big tears welled up in my eyes. I dropped the pruning shears and wiped them away with the sleeve of my shirt. “She has cancer, Becky Sue,” I said, not giving a minute’s thought to Papa’s admonishments about keeping family business private. Not that it was going to be easy. All of Mama’s friends from church and the garden club had been calling nonstop. Word had already gotten around town that she was at Emory.

Becky started crying too. “Oh, Darcy, I’m sorry,” she wailed. “This is terrible. Just awful.”

We walked out to the gazebo together and sat on the wooden bench swing suspended by chains from the ceiling. “She’s being real brave,” I said. “But I’m scared.”

“Course you are. My grandpa died of cancer.”

“Thank you for that information,” I said, not too kindly.

Becky slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Had no call to say that. Grandpa was old and sick for a long time. He smoked too, and that’s what probably gave him lung cancer. So he sort of brought it on himself.”

“Mama didn’t do nothing to bring breast cancer on herself.” I scuffed my old gardening shoes on the wood flooring. “It’s not fair, Becky. Not fair at all.”

“You coming to school on Monday, or going back to the hospital?”

“Papa says we have to carry on like nothing’s wrong. I don’t care a thing about school right now.” I crossed my arms in defiance but after a few minutes asked, “So what have I missed since Wednesday?”

“J.T. got into a fight behind the gym with Billy Harrold Friday after school. Seems as if Billy was flirting with Donna and J.T. took exception to it.”

“That girl’s a born troublemaker,” I said. Donna McGowen was pretty but didn’t have the good sense of a grasshopper. She wasn’t happy unless a boy was mooning over her. She and J.T. had been on and off together for years. “I hope they make each other miserable, because they truly deserve each other,” I said. “Anything else?”

“I heard Carole and Jim are picking up that brother of hers at the Atlanta airport today,” Becky said. “So I’m figuring he’ll be at teen group tomorrow night. You’ll come, won’t you?”

I was curious about Jason, and I sort of felt sorry for him, being forced to come live with his sister. Kids never got much say-so about life. Someone was forever telling us what to do or not to do. “I’ll be there,” I said. Silently, I vowed to be nice to him. Mama would say it was the Christian thing to do. I just figured that misery would love some company.

After church on Sunday, Adel fixed dinner, always a big family meal at our house, and the two of us sat in the dining room mostly staring at our plates, neither of us having an appetite. “Meat’s dry,” I said.

“Put some gravy on it,” Adel said.

The gravy was lumpy, but I thought it best to keep that to myself. Just then, the phone rang and Adel groaned. “Will you get that?” she asked. “I just don’t think I can listen to one more well-wishing, good-intentioned friend wanting information about Mama going to the hospital.”

I jumped up and went to the kitchen, where the downstairs phone hung on the wall. I answered it and a deep male voice asked, “Is Adel there?”

Now, men calling Adel was nothing new to me, except that this voice didn’t sound like anyone’s I’d heard before. It had an odd, non-Southern accent. “Who may I say is calling?” I asked in my most polite manner.

He said, “Barry. That is, Specialist Fourth Class Barry Sorenson.”

A soldier.
“This is her sister, Darcy,” I said, again using my best voice. “Just a minute and I’ll get Adel.”

When I told her who was on the phone, Adel let out a little squeal and ran for the stairs. “I’ll take it upstairs,” she said. I returned to the kitchen and passed the news on to Barry. Seconds later, Adel came on the line. “Hi. How are you?” she said in a breathless, sexy voice. I cringed but didn’t hang up. I’d seen my sister trot out her charm many times before and thought it sugary and nauseating.

“Hi to you,” Barry said. “I missed you at the club last night. I was wondering if you are all right.”

“I—wait a minute. Darcy, if you are still on that phone, hang up this instant. This is a
personal
conversation.” Adel’s instructions sounded sharp and demanding.

“I’m hanging up,” I told her, taking my sweet time. “Bye, Barry. Nice talking to you.”

I had something to tell Becky Sue. Something that didn’t involve my mother or any sadness. Adel had a soldier boy hooked on her line. I wondered just how long it would take for her to reel him in.

That evening Carole stopped me in the hall just outside the teen room. “Darcy, Jim and I went to see your mother after we met Jason’s plane yesterday. She seems in good spirits.”

Carole was only six years older than Adel, and Mama had taken Carole under her wing. Carole was shy and, I learned later, scared about even coming to the South, what with stories about violence over desegregation standard fare on Northern newscasts when she was growing up. Which weren’t true for the most part. Why, everybody in Conners went to school together, blacks and whites, and nobody ever thought twice about it. And the thing I’d learned was that there were some nice black kids and some mean ones, but not one of them, black or white, was as hateful as J. T. Rucker. Anyway, Mama let Carole start a ladies’ Bible study in our house because Carole needed confidence, and women would come to Mama’s house just because Mama said so. Soon everybody thought the world of Carole and she fit right in with our town.

Now, looking at Carole, I could see that my mother’s troubles were affecting her deeply. “It must have meant a lot to Mama to see a friendly face from home,” I said. “Thank you.”

“We all held hands and prayed for her quick and complete recovery. It was a comfort to both of us.” She patted my hand. “Joy’s a wonderful woman, and I know God must have big plans for her.”

I hoped God had told this to Carole directly, because he wasn’t saying much to me about my mother. “Thank you,” I repeated. “Becky told me Jason was coming tonight.”

Carole sighed. “Yes, but under protest.”

From the room, we heard guitar music, which meant that Pastor Jim had started the meeting. We went inside, and I stepped over kids sitting on the floor in order to sink down beside Becky. I saw Jason instantly. He was sitting by himself, his back against the wall, and he didn’t look happy. He wore a worn leather jacket and jeans—and nobody wore jeans to church, so he really looked out of place. His hair was straight and light brown and too long, his skin tanner than I’d have imagined for someone living in Chicago. His gaze flicked over us and I saw that his eyes were bright green and intense, his lips full, his expression defiant. I liked his looks and thought his sharp, angular features attractive, almost dangerous looking. My cheeks began to feel warm and I looked away, afraid someone would see the effect he was having on me.

Becky leaned toward me. “Cute, isn’t he?” she whispered in my ear.

“Passable,” I said.

After several songs, Pastor Jim put down his guitar and introduced Jason. “As most of you know by now, Carole’s brother, Jason Polwalski, will be living with us and attending Conners High School this year. I hope all of you will make him feel welcome.”

We waved and greeted him politely as a group. Jason surveyed us coolly. Jim cleared his throat and I could tell he wasn’t thrilled with Jason’s less-than-enthusiastic response to us. “We’re going to continue our Bible study in Luke,” Jim said. “If you’ll open your Bibles to Luke Eleven . . .”

Without a word, Jason stood up and walked out of the room.

I looked for Jason in the halls at school on Monday but didn’t see him until after lunch. He stood out from the regulars. His clothes were wrong and his expression continually said
Back
off.
Over the next several days, I thought about ways to reach out to him but kept drawing a blank. I was a lowly ninth grader and he was a senior. Besides, every time I saw him, I had strange reactions. My palms perspired, my heart raced, and my face felt warm, like I might be catching something. I’d never experienced such things around a boy before, so I didn’t quite know how to handle it. I could have talked it over with Becky Sue but figured she might take to teasing me about it, and I sure didn’t want that!

I was in my room doing homework, thinking over Jason and smelling the burnt aroma of supper being prepared by my sister, when she yelled, “Darcy! Come down here quick and see what the news is saying.”