Tiger Lillie (17 page)

Honestly, I think I did the whole “ask Jesus into my heart” years ago, grew in the faith with Teddy, who knelt and prayed with me one day after Bible school, and then, when he died…

Well, no wonder I feel so starved and wanting. I need to take some lessons from Cristoff, get out of bed earlier, and spend time with Jesus. I know better than to ask him to come down and have study time with me. One time, he told me this, “During my quiet time, Lillie, it’s the only time I can sit before anybody and be exactly who I am. He sees me entirely, and I’m thankful He knows it all. I’m thankful that I don’t have to pretend a thing.”

It’s lunchtime now and we’re onto eschatology—end-times stuff. Rapture or not. Figurative or literal. Good grief. Now this is the stuff I stopped caring about a long time ago. What’s going to happen at the end of the world as we know it? Well, it’s going to happen the way God has planned it, and either I’ll be right or I’ll be wrong, but what I thought will not have changed a thing. Not one single thing.

And I feel fine.

So there.

This whole theological debate is why I gave up on Christian radio, although they’re probably onto something else these days. Should I care more about this stuff? Probably. But mostly now I need to get back to Jesus. These people here, they just love Jesus and seem to know Him better than I do. Even Peach, who’s now sitting with us, smiling and scratching his belly. I can imagine what he’s thinking: “It’s just good to hear people talk about God.”

And I have to say amen.

Four o’clock. Versions of the Bible. Even Peach, who thinks the Douay Rheims is the only inspired version, gets in on this one.

I’m so sleepy! I need some Coke, not this tea junk.

And then, finally, Stan brings both palms down on the table and says, “You’re hired!”

“What?” I shake the cobwebs out from between my ears.

“Yep. In fact, Ursula is coming on tour with me for the next six months, so Gordon will be taking care of it all.”

“Just like that? You haven’t even seen our ideas.”

Thank You, God.

“I like you. You all have the inside scoop on what marriage is all about. And I trust Gordon implicitly with these matters. He’s an artist, you know.”

Gordon smiles and shakes his head, the younger brother receiving a compliment from the padre of the clan, I guess. But in all actuality, I do believe Gordon is the one to be looked up to.

We all shake hands, agree to sign papers within the next few days, and that is that. How weird is this?

I’ll never forget the day the Berlin Wall fell. That day in November of 1989 I walked the halls of C. Milton Wright, so proud to be an American, so proud of Ronald Reagan, bless him. Mom is a huge fan of RR, so if that’s not cool or tony or smart, well, that’s just too bad. The corncob intelligentsia aren’t my kind of crowd anyway. I mean, they probably don’t even like a good meat loaf sandwich, you know?

I heard the news on my way to school, called Mom, and told her to turn on the TV.

When I got home that evening, all set to study my brain into the fullnesses of World History, Aunts Babi and Luca were busy in our little kitchen. Grandma Erzsèbet sat with my father in the living room playing this bilingual form of Scrabble they’d come to terms with over the years. And the smells, oh the smells, of paprika and sour cream and chicken having browned in an enameled iron pot, and the wine being poured and freedom being toasted, and a general buzz of celebration threw me right into the arms of those women, my women. Tacy jumped around, only twelve then, not at all capable of understanding the day’s import, but still jumbled with a molecular gratitude.

Or maybe I’m not giving her enough credit. Maybe I’m not giving her enough credit now. I don’t know what it takes to make a marriage work. Maybe she’s just doing what she needs to get by.

After the meal, Aunt Luca raised her glass and Mom translated this to Grandma E: “To freedom!”

“To freedom!”

“I am proud,” Aunt Babi said, “to be a Hungarian tonight. To have survived long enough to rejoice.”

I remember that sometimes, when I get down on life and think about how lonely I am, how miserable and insignificant to anything that really matters. And then Babi’s line comes back to me. “To surviving long enough to rejoice.”

And isn’t that every day? Isn’t that choosing to look at life through eyes that recognize God’s greatness, His goodness, and even just the simple gift of a buttercup or a conversation with a cherished friend?

13

Lillie

Gordon called me at work today. I sat at my desk, going over the books in light of the new developments with Stan Remington and Ursula, and I realized that this will reach down under our armpits and pull us away from the edge. I’m not sure it will soak us in black ink, but we will survive now, long enough to rejoice, maybe?

Lord, You know I hope so.

“I was wondering if we could start making arrangements for Stan’s wedding this week instead of next. I’ve had something come up.”

“Of course.” Naturally, I’m dying to know what it is, but I won’t ask. I can’t. I’m a professional, right? These rules about nosiness drive me crazy. I know we’re supposed to mind our own business, but shoot, that’s not any fun at all. And actually, I’ve never been all
that
nosy, but with this guy, oh man, oh man. I want to know it all.

Lillie. Lillie.

I still can’t believe guys like Gordon Remington continue to inhabit the planet. “When would you like to get together?”

“Well, unfortunately the only day I have free is tomorrow and only after four. I realize it’s short notice.”

“No, no. It’ll be fine. Let me just check my Day-Timer to make sure.” I mean, I don’t want to seem like a complete loser. Of course, it will be okay no matter what, this being the saving grace of Extremely Odd.

Dang! Tomorrow I was going to the climbing wall down at the Athletic Club. Pleasance and I even had a bet as to who would climb it the fastest.

“We’ll be ready for you. Can you give me a direction to go in so that we might have a few options, themes, what have you, ready for you?”

“H’m. Well, actually, Stan feels obligated to his fans who have been faithful all these years, so he wants something glamorous, large, and expensive. ‘Pull out all the stops, Gordon,’ he told me.”

I write furiously, grinning like a kabuki mask. Pull out all the stops, my mind sings, pull out all the stops.

All the stops.

All the stops.

Pull out all the stops.

Warning! Black-ink alert! Rheee! Rheee!

I suppress a giggle, a bona fide giggle.

Oh brother.

I clear my throat. “Okay, something large and glamorous.”

“But…poor Ursula, well, you’ve seen Urs. Not particularly the Hollywood type. She wants something intimate.”

Great. “Large and glamorous but intimate.”

Sorry.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ve seen the people who work with me. They’ll figure it out.”

“Believe me, after yesterday, I’m sure they’ll do just fine. So tomorrow then? Say, four thirty?”

“Fine.” I don’t want to hang up yet. “Gordon, what’s it like being an artist?”

How stupid can you get, Lillie! Is that the best you could do?

“It’s like anything else. If you love it, it’s wonderful.”

“And you love it.”

“Yes, I do.”

I grip the phone. “Are you doing something arty when you go away?”

He laughs. “Ha! Something ‘arty?’”

Oh man.

“Lillie, you are a pleasure. Yeah, it’s something arty, a set-design project for a play out in San Francisco, actually. They tend to like high-concept.”

I’ve got to save myself! “Well, we’ll need high-concept to pull this wedding off.”

“Right you are. Till tomorrow then, love.”

Oh good luscious grief. This guy is a beauty.

Till tomorrow then, love.

How lovely is that?

“I’ve got you down.”

“Lillie?”

“Yes?”

“Do you love what you do?”

H’m. “I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about it.”

“Shame. Till tomorrow.”

And he rings off. Just like that.

I said the wrong thing. I know I said the wrong thing.

Cristoff shakes his head. “Large and glamorous but intimate?”

Pleasance rolls her eyes and shakes her head in a direct mirror image of Cristoff.

Peach says, “Foods food.”

I say, “Were in for a long night.”

Tacy

My dearest daughter. She comforted me so during the times. She was the gift God gave me to tell me that He still loved me. So precious, so innocent. Dear Lord, be preparing a good man for her. A good man. A man who will love her for who she is, who you made her to be.

Lillie will make sure. of that. I’m leaving Hannah Grace in good hands.

Lillie

Tacy answers on the fifth ring. It always takes her so long to get to the phone, and when she answers she sounds so see-through. But she awakens after a few seconds.

“Lillie! I’m so glad you called!”

“Hows the baby?”

“Wonderful! She’s a nursing wonder. Latches on so well.”

Well, again, I wouldn’t know much about that, but I act excited. “And how’s that old Rawlins doing?”

“Fine. The church, most sadly, is losing a family.”

“Who?”

“Do you remember the Haversham family, when you came for the consecration service?”

“Which aposde’s bench were they on?”

“John.”

“Oh my.”

“I know.”

Dishy. “So did they fall from grace or are they leaving the area?”

When I say “fall from grace” I’m actually using their terminology. Now, granted, a lot of churches believe we can fall from grace, that we can turn our backs on Christ, having once truly, really and truly experienced His overpowering, all-consuming love firsthand. I’m sure anyone with the slightest bit of theological savvy can figure out where I stand on this one. However, The Temperance Church of the Apostles leaves the decision as to who falls from grace and when up to Pastor Cole.

“They fell from grace, Lillie, but you know I’m not at liberty to say what happened.”

“Was it sexual in nature?” Big problems in the church usually fall into that category. Or we make it that way. I mean, hair-sprayed heretics spout all manner of false doctrine across the airwaves and we turn a blind eye. Not that it justifies sexual sinning, but it surely should be noted by Christians that all sorts of sins lurk in the shadows, and not just sexual indiscretions call for action. Haughtiness, prejudice, complacency, anger, gossip, laziness, self-centeredness—

I can’t say.

“Then that means it was. If it wasn’t, you’d have said, ‘No. But I can’t tell you what it was.’”

“Okay, it wasn’t. He wanted to start a Bible study and Pastor Cole said it was his job, not Bob’s to interpret the Word of God for the church.”

“No!”

“Yes, unfortunately. I mean Rawlins says that when Pastor Cole speaks, it’s as if God is talking.”

Good grief! The new pope of Baltimore County.

“Can I come up Friday after work?”

“Well, Rawlins won’t be here.”

“So much the better.”

“I need to clear it with him.”

“What? Why?”

“Just to see if we’ve got anything else on the schedule, Lillie. Besides, Philly’s taking the afternoon off.”

I hear the baby cough. “Hannah okay?”

“Oh yes. Just a little cough. Must have autumn allergies. Remember how allergic Aunt Babi gets in the fall?”

Her black eyes swell to the size of large olives every autumn. “Oh yeah. So anyway, how about Friday night?”

“Maybe I’ll meet you at Mom and Dad’s.”

“Okay.” It’ll have to do.

Like she’ll really show up.

“How do you feel about Mom and Dad coming to live with me?”

“…”

“Tace?”

She sniffs. But a bright voice answers. “I think it’s great, Lillie. We’re so busy with the church and all, and Daddy would hate being around all that.”

“He’s never liked that Alban Cole fellow.”

“No.”

Wow, she didn’t defend the man.

“So you’re not mad at me for suggesting it?”

“No, not at all mad.”

Sad? Disappointed? For Pete’s sake, Tacy, say
anything
to indicate you’re feeling something.

Gordon and I sip tea down in Peach’s kitchen. Man, I like this guy. He was a complete gentleman during our presentation, and he offered such great suggestions we all said more than once, “You should be working here!” Creative types energize me. Though I’m not one of them, I can feed off them, sucking their juices, sweet and fresh. I’m a three-day-old cup of coffee; they’re ice-cold pineapple juice. I’m General Tsao’s; they’re Crispy Duck with Basil Leaves.

It’s rather delightful.

“I think renting out Pier 3 is the perfect idea.” Gordon tips his cup toward me. “And the barge docked there for the reception. Who thought of that?”

I raise my hands. “Not me, I assure you. I’m just the business head of this venture.”

“Well, you’ve surrounded yourself with a great team.”

“They’d probably tell you that they had the foresight to make sure they brought someone on with some common sense.”

“Well, the world can sure use a little more of that.”

“Really?”

“You don’t think so?”

“No, I think the world can use more people like you and Cristoff and Pleasance. You bring beauty to light. People like me only manage the status quo.”

“How old are you, Lillie?”

“Thirty-two. Just had a birthday.”

“I’m forty-one.”

“You seem younger.”

He sits in a relaxed pose, wearing blue jeans, as usual, and a thick fisherman’s sweater. Doc Marten boots encase his feet, but instead of the usual black, these are grass green. They look like Jackson Pollock did a number on them.

“Thanks. I feel a lot younger. Especially since my accident.”

“That’s odd.”

“That’s how God dragged me over to His side. Wanna hear about it?”

“I do. If you’re willing.”

“I want you to know, Lillie. It’s important to me.”

It is to me, too.

Drinking. Drugs. Sex. The arts community. Everything you imagine from the outside but wonder if you’re right. You are. The light in the kitchen fades as he speaks. The others leave, poking their heads in to say a soft good-bye.

“And then one night, after my brother died—”

“Hale? The bass player?”

He nods. “Hale was the wildest of us. But also the most large-hearted. Do you know that I’m the youngest by far?”

“I read that after I met you at the hospital.”

His brows arch. “Really?”

“Yes.” I feel the heat fill my face. No one but Teddy has brought heat to my face before. And this is grown-up heat, thirty-two-year-old heat. God, You made him so beautifully. “You’re a beautiful person,” I say.

Where did that come from? Why did I say that out loud? Why do I feel like someone else is controlling my tongue?

“I’m sorry, Gordon! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt that out like that!”

“Do you often, as you say, blurt?”

“No, never.”

“Excellent. So you blurt only when I’m around?” It seems so.

“You seem like a very purposeful person.”

“I try.”

He lowers his left eyelid in a slow wink. “Well, we’ll have to try and change that then, won’t we?”

I feel gooey inside. A very nice gooey. A feeling that lets me know a woman actually lives inside this puff-pastry shell. Just a woman. Without the preceding words Strong or Hungarian.

“You were telling me about Hale.” Good. I’m glad we left that part of the conversation unfinished.

“Yes. Well, after his death, I wanted to die too. He really took me under his wing, Hale did. My mother, well, let’s just say she ran a pub and took a little too much advantage of the inventory. But Hale took care of me, brought me on the road as a lad, taught me to play bass too.”

“Really? You play bass?”

“Yes, every once in a while I fill in. Although compared to Hale…”

“Didn’t know that.”

“Must not be on the Internet.” He laughs. Hah! I respond in kind. No choice. He pulled it out of me.

“I was living in New York at the time. New York City. And I bought this motorcycle, spur of the moment, the day Hale was buried. I crashed it that night, somewhere out in New Jersey.”

I suck in a breath.

“Stupid, I know. So drunk you couldn’t believe I could actually climb on the bike. And I had been at those hard-rocking, psychedelic clubs, those violent, sort of futuristic joints. Private, lots of drugs.”

They really exist? I thought places like that only inhabited movies like
Strange Days
or
The Matrix.

“And that’s how you lost your leg?”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t until after I recovered and was back on my feet—or should I say foot?—that I met a woman named Mildred LaRue.”

Great, a woman. “Sounds interesting.”

“Best jazz singer I ever heard. The coolest old lady you’ve ever seen, but don’t ever tell her I called her that. Anyway, I wandered into her club when my wave of self-pity was at its highest crest. She was singing with her band, The Star Spangled Jammers.”

“Cool name!”

“Oh yes, definitely.”

“Why are you telling me all this, Gordon?”

“I’m not sure. I just think it’s important you know.”

“Why?”

“I like you, Lillie. It’s as simple as that.”

“But we only met a little while ago.”

“Yeah. And I feel like I’ve known you for years. Isn’t that great?”

“And we met at a hospital, no less.”