Good Heavens (36 page)

I felt my neck getting warm. Nobody ever called me a madam!

Albert had ordered what he called “Trout Marguery,” but when it came I couldn't find the fish under all that sauce they had on it. I don't eat nothing that's not in plain sight. The plate was full of shrimp, mushrooms, and a kinda round thing I never saw before. I forked it and held it up for Albert to see.

“What's this?”

“Truffles,” he said and smiled. “A subterranean edible fungi of tuber.”

“You sound like Ursula.”

He laughed.

I put the thing back on the edge of my plate.
Fungus? I'm not eating that
.

Albert hardly touched his food. “Esmeralda, I can't keep this to myself any longer. What I have to say may come as a shock to you.”

My fork was halfway to my mouth, and my heart was going pitty-patty. I set the fork down and managed to smile at him. He only sighed and looked away. “Well, Albert,” I said. “Try me. I'm not easy to shock.”

He looked back at me and still wasn't smiling. “Esmeralda, ever since that day on the rock, I have come to realize how lonely I have been since my wife died. During these days since, when I have had the privilege of coming to Priscilla Home to teach the Bible, a certain Scripture has been repeatedly impressed on my mind.”

“What's that, Albert?”

“God said, ‘It is not good for man to dwell alone.' . . . Increasingly, I have come to realize that, at least in my case, this is true.” He was looking straight at me with those warm, dark eyes melting me to mush. “Esmeralda, sometime I want to take you to my little cottage up there on the hill. It's a nice place, but without someone to share it with me, it feels as empty as a tomb.”

The dinner was going to waste—neither one of us was eating. “I'd like that,” I said, trying to keep calm.

He turned in his chair to face the window. “I just don't know if this is the Lord's will.” He fell silent.

I couldn't stand the suspense. “If what is the Lord's will, Albert?”

He turned back and was looking in my eyes like he wasn't really seeing me, just thinking. Finally, he took a deep breath, then, seeing me for sure, said, “Esmeralda, I'm afraid I'm in love.”

I thought my heart would jump out of my throat! “Afraid?” I asked, and almost laughed.

“Yes, afraid.”

“Why?”

“I'm afraid for several reasons. I'm afraid Lenora won't have me.”

Lenora? What? Am I hearing right?

“Oh, I wouldn't blame her if she turned me down. She's younger than I am. But I'm also afraid because she has hardly had time to truly overcome her addiction. How much longer should she stay at Priscilla Home? That takes a while, doesn't it?”

I could hardly get the words out. “For most it does.” I took a drink of water, and my hand was shaking.

“You're the only person I can talk to about this, Esmeralda. Lenora and I have had some long walks together, and on one of those walks, she made a commitment to Christ. Since then I can see a definite change in her. Do you?”

I had to nod my head.

“From what I have heard, it was a great step forward when she began playing the piano again. What do you think?”

“I hardly know what to say.”

“You have seen other changes in her, haven't you?”

“I haven't been with her very much.” I could only think that if this man knew how hard this was for me, he'd not be putting me through it. “Well, she's a good piano player,” I added feebly.

“How long do you think it takes a person to know for sure they have overcome their addiction?”

“Maybe a year.” I was so choked up I hardly knew what I was saying.

“Now, that's what I needed to know. A year, you say?”

“If they go home and don't relapse for a year—”

“You're not saying Lenora should go back to New York?”

I wished he wouldn't ask me all those questions. “If a grad can live the Christian life at home, she can live it anywhere.”

“Oh, but the New York supper club is anything but an abstinence environment. What Lenora needs is someone
to take care of her—someone who loves her the way I do.”

I couldn't bear to sit there and listen to all that. “If a body can't live the Christian life in the place they came from, they can't live it anywhere.”

He was taken aback by that. “I see,” he said and pushed his plate aside. “Then you're saying I should wait a year to propose to Lenora?”

“I'm not telling you what to do, Albert. You asked my advice, and all I know is what I told you.”

His face clouded over. “Well, she probably won't have me anyway.”

“There's only one way to find out; ask her.”

There was not a doubt in my mind but what any woman would jump at the chance to marry him, but I didn't tell him that. I just wanted to get this thing over with.

“I guess you're right . . .” He toyed with his glass. A smile began to spread across his face. “Do you know that overlook on the Parkway, the one with the view that stretches for miles around? That's the place I've picked to propose to her. On the first clear day, when there's no haze, nothing to cloud the view, we'll drive up there in the late afternoon. That's when the sun is setting, the light is soft on the slopes, and the afterglow is showing in the sky. Lenora will love it, don't you think?”

“Yes.” I was ready to leave that fancy restaurant. “Could we go now?”

“Dessert?”

I shook my head.

“Coffee?”

When I said no, he called the waiter, paid the check, and we left.

On the way home he did all the talking. Albert Ringstaff was a happy man.

24

All the girls were waiting for me in the day room, gorging on snacks and excited to hear my report. Before anyone could ask, I closed the door behind me and told them, “Girls, if you don't mind, I need to be alone for a while.”

They stopped eating and stared at me.

“Cool it, girls,” somebody said. “Give Miss E. some space, she needs some space.”

I thanked them and went up the stairs. Lenora was in the parlor playing the piano.

Inside my room, I leaned my back against the door, closed my eyes, and wished I could just crawl in a hole and stay there for the rest of my life. I felt numb.
What a fool I've made of myself! How could I ever get it in my fool head that Albert Ringstaff would take a second look at me, much less propose marriage?

I slid down, sat flat on the floor, and pulled off my earrings. Holding them in my hand, I thought of Bud.
Whatever in the world would he think of me if he knew what a fool I've been?

That little yellow bird was looking at me from the dresser. I sat looking back at it for some time. Then I got up, picked up the bird, and shut it away in a drawer. As I was standing there, I saw myself in the mirror. The face looking back at me wasn't mine. It belonged to some old fool that didn't have the sense God promised a billy goat.

I took off the necklace, turned the collar down like it was supposed to be, and started unbuttoning my jacket. I didn't feel like taking another shower—I'd just wash off all that makeup. Numb as I was, I went through the motions of getting ready for bed but knew I wouldn't sleep, so I sat in the chair. Out of force of habit, I reached for my Bible, then remembered I'd given it to Portia.

The longer I sat there, the harder it was to hold it all in. Tears rolled down my cheeks, my nose ran, and then—well, then, it all busted loose and I was bawling so hard my whole body shook.

They say you have to get something like this all out of your system before you can think straight. That may be, but it don't do much for the ache in the heart. I was hearing the clock ticking for an hour or so before I started coming to my senses.

After all
, I told myself,
I don't have nothing in common with Albert Ringstaff except love for the Lord . . . Live Oaks is a long way off from New York City and all the places he's lived and traveled to.

Of course, I knew that all along but, being a fool, I had just shut it out of my mind.
I have played the fool, haven't I, Lord? Maybe those two were made for each other—her and him. . . . They have lived most of their lives in that world of highbrow music
—
traveled all over the world and met all kinds of stylish people. I wouldn't fit in with all of that. Now that he's alone, he really needs somebody, and she needs somebody, too
.

I didn't need a husband. I had my work to do, and a man would just be in the way. Well, maybe not in the way . . .

Somebody was knocking on my door.
Now, who can that be?

I went to open the door. It was Ursula, and she had been crying.

“What's the matter, Ursula?”

“It's Linda, Esmeralda. I caught her with her hand in the petty cash.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Here, sit down.”

She sat on the other chair and was sniffling. She could hardly talk. “Esmeralda, I don't know how I could have been so stupid as to trust her. . . . It's just that she has so many problems and I was confident I was making progress with her. . . . Now I must dismiss her, send her home no better than when she came.”

I put my hand over hers. “Well, Ursula, you must remember, when a person hardens their heart, there's nothing a body can do. The Lord don't go against nobody's will, but he cries over them same as you. You ever read that verse in Isaiah where God says about hard-headed people, ‘All day long I have stretched out my hands unto
a disobedient and a gainsaying people'? Now, that's what he's saying about Linda.”

“I know,” she said, “but I feel so foolish. Why couldn't I see that she was playing games with me? She deceived me, Esmeralda!”

“Well, Ursula, don't feel bad. Sooner or later everybody in this kind of work gets conned.”

“It's not only that, Esmeralda. What grieves me most is taking her word against yours about Portia. That was unconscionable. I should have listened to you and investigated thoroughly before making my decision.”

“We all make mistakes, Ursula.”

“Not like me. Priscilla Home is a different place since you came here. Morale has never been this good. They love you, Esmeralda, and I love you, too.” She came over and put her arms around me and was just sobbing. “I guess it's . . . it's just my nature to be nasty.” I held on to her, stroking her hair and trying to make her feel better. She really was a pitiful case—probably never had no mothering, no normal kind of life.

I held Ursula in my arms like that for a long time. When she got hold of herself, she got up and, still sniffling, talked some more. “I know you will forgive me, but I doubt the ladies will.” She blew her nose and walked toward the door. “Tomorrow, I'm going to call them all together, confess how wrong I was about Portia, and beg their forgiveness.”

“They'll forgive you,” I said.

Standing with her hand on the knob, her shoulders drooping, she looked back at me. “Esmeralda . . . thank you.”

“You go along to bed, Ursula. Get a good night's sleep. You'll feel better in the morning.”