Why Sarah Ran Away with the Veterinarian (6 page)

Mama would be proud, really proud to see all these people teary eyed for her. The flowers! Daddy told Maurice down at the florist to let people send nothing but gardenias. They're all over the place—the choir loft, the communion railing, the window sills—every space where somebody's not sitting or standing. And the food! We had fourteen cakes, seven casseroles, eight gallons of tea, and a whole pan of ham biscuits as of this morning. Mrs. Lois Turpin's at the house, keeping a list. Andrew says we handle grief by eating ourselves silly. I asked him what did they do up in Massachusetts? Drink themselves silly?

It's good to have Sarah home. I'm not even mad at her anymore. I mean how could I be with her looking so bad? Nobody's blaming her. At least, nobody's said so. Still, I wonder if she'd come home a little earlier, but that's water over the well.

Sarah's last letter had a return address in tiny boxy letters across the back of the envelope. Andrew said it was a sign that she wanted to be found. He can analyze handwriting. He said he could see it in the way she signed her name too. But I still don't think she would have come home except for Mama.

Mama wasn't the same after Sarah left, though she didn't say much about Sarah. It was more like she was shrinking. She was already little, smaller in the waist than me. Of course, she didn't have two babies at the same time. But Sarah's the same way. She took after Mama. I took after Daddy's side. Granny Crawford was big as the side of the barn before she died. That's scary! I'm thinking about signing up for aerobics down at the Y. Andrew says I should, not because I need it but because I'd feel better. But I was too worried about Mama at the time. She didn't go out as much, or talk as much, or do anything as much. I tried to talk to Daddy but he wasn't any help. He just stayed busy fertilizing or staking his tomatoes or mulching. Andrew said they both needed to get away. The only thing I could think of was Florida.

They used to talk about going to Florida. Especially when somebody from the church came home showing Disney World postcards or photographs from Sea World or handing out oranges. Andrew and I finally talked Daddy into taking Mama to Orlando. Daddy said he didn't care one thing about Disney World but he'd like to see how they grew oranges in those groves and he wouldn't mind walking through Sea World while he was there.

Mama didn't seem to care one way or the other, but I went down to Swirl's and bought her some new cotton shifts, a pair of light weight pants, a T-shirt with waves on it, and some tennis shoes. They were navy blue with rope like trim around the edges and they fit just fine. I packed my suitcase for her and tried to tell her how pretty and different everything was in Florida. I'd been once. With Andrew on our honeymoon. I still have my mouse ears.

Mama and Daddy were gone less than a week but when they got back both of them were like kids, talking about what they'd seen and done. Mama's hands were flying. “We thought we'd never get there,” she said. “Joe drove and drove and drove before we even got to Florida and then we were only halfway to Orlando.”

“Thought we'd never get there,” Daddy echoed. “You wouldn't believe the orange groves on this side of R-land-o, all gone to root.”

“Orlando,” Andrew said.

“Yea,” Daddy said, “all gone to root. A real shame. I asked some feller taking money on the pike.”

“Turnpike?” Andrew said.

“Yea, I asked the feller on the pike why the groves were like that.” Daddy rubbed his palms together. “Know what he said?”

“‘Move along, sir'?” Andrew said, cutting his eyes at me. He was starting to fidget.

“Yea, but before that, he said they got froze out five years ago. Said the growers just let those orange trees go.”

“Sea World was really something,” Mama said.

“Ex-pen-sive!” Daddy said, stretching his arms like a preacher.

“But I had those $2.50-off coupons,” Mama said to Daddy. “Lonita gave them to us,” she told Andrew and me.

“It was still $50 to get in,” Daddy said, looking straight at Mama. “But I guess it was worth it.” Mama smiled.

“I took all kinds of pictures in Sea World,” she said. “Joe did too but his camera got ruined.”

“It wasn't much of a camera, anyway,” Daddy said, “the one I got at the Jocky Lot. I give five dollars.”

“What happened to it?” Andrew asked. Daddy didn't answer.

“There was this sign,” Mama said, “‘Splash Area.' You know how Joe is.” She patted his shoulder. “He thinks signs don't apply if you don't read them out loud.” Daddy grinned a little. “The first time Shamu turned a flip,” Mama said, “Joe got soaked. I was up higher in the stands. I snapped him just as the water knocked his hat off. Hope the picture turns out.” She was laughing now.

“Ruint my camera,” Daddy said. “But it wasn't worth much. 'Cept the film. It was Kodak.” He rested his hands on his belly.

“What got me was the way those Shamus swam and jumped together, Donna, side by side, like they were joined,” Mama said.

“They were huge, Donna Jean,” Daddy interrupted. “Bigger than Jaws! You wouldn't believe how much water they knocked out.”

“We saw them too, on our honeymoon,” Andrew said.

“Yea, but that was years ago.” Daddy shoved his hands in his pockets. “They've grown since then.”

“Watching them flip and twist and jump together,” Mama said, “made me wonder why people can't be more like that.” She hesitated. “Take Sarah and Jack for instance.” Daddy didn't look up. “I couldn't help thinking,” Mama went on, “that if they'd go down there to Orlando, like on a second honeymoon, they could work out their problems.”

“I don't know,” Andrew said. “Vacations don't always bring out the best in a family. I mean there's only one bathroom, and somebody gets sick, nobody agrees on where to eat, and the water tastes funny.”

I knew he was talking about taking me and the twins to Cherry Grove Beach last summer. “And,” I said, looking straight at Andrew, “somebody kicks the mattress.”

“You're right about the water,” Daddy said. “That Florida water tastes like a frog in the well. Vivienne filled up a thermos jug in case the car ran hot. It holds two gallons slap full and we drank the whole thing before we got out of R-land-o. Don't know what we'd of done if the engine run hot. At Sea World a little cup of Pepsi-Cola costs a dollar, and you won't believe what one chocolate chip cookie costs.”

“But they were the biggest cookies I've ever seen,” Mama said, spreading her fingers, “Big as a saucer.”

“Bigger than the head on Kate's barn cat,” Daddy said. “I'm thinking of taking Vivienne to Dollywood next year. Now that we know how to act.”

It was so good to see Mama and Daddy looking happy again. Mama even got back to what she called her busy work. For a while.

Seems like a lifetime ago. With Mama stretched out in that box and Daddy crying like a baby. He wanted to have her buried in her Orlando outfit—those pants and the T-shirt with waves on it. I told him everybody would think we were loony. But I gave in on the tennis shoes. They didn't show. Neither did the dolphin. It satisfied Daddy though. I swear I feel more like his mama than his daughter. Like Granny Crawford. My Lord, what a thought! But I've got Mama's genes too. Busy genes.

When Sarah and I were growing up, Mama kept some kind of project going all the time. In the summer, she'd be freezing corn and lima beans and soup mix, until you couldn't get in the kitchen for steam and hot smells and little plastic bags all over the place. In the winter she'd sew—dresses, blouses, coats prettier than you could buy in a store. And they were done up so neatly, Aunt Kate said we could have worn them inside out. In the spring and fall, she'd find old pieces of furniture to refinish. I tried to help once, but the chemical stuff she stripped off the old finish with was so strong you'd have to wear rubber gloves and scrub with steel wool until it felt like your arms were coming off, and the whole time you'd be smelling that stripper stuff till you got high as a TV antenna. But Mama kept at it until she was convinced she'd brought it “back to life,” she'd say. And she would. There was an old washstand that must have been in somebody's coal cellar for years. But she had it looking so good I was happy to put it in my own dining room. I set geraniums on it in the summer. And she did a sideboard for Sarah and Jack that would bring no telling what. Jack said $1000. He looked it up in some antique book and told Mama.

The summer before I got married, Mama and Daddy painted the entire house inside out. Mama made new curtains for the front hall and sitting room, and recovered the living room sofa in peachy fabric with little flowers woven in. Andrew couldn't believe how hard she worked.

Mama was busy, even sitting. If she was carrying on a conversation, she'd be polishing silver or folding towels or peeling apples. During Sunday dinner she'd be up and down, seeing if anybody needed anything. If Sarah or I had Sunday dinner, Mama would stay at the table. But the whole time she'd be folding her napkin until it was so small you could have fit it in a matchbox. That was Mama. High strung, Daddy called it.

And for a while after the Florida trip, she was back to normal. But about the time Andrew told me he'd turn orange if he heard “R-land-o” again, Mama quit talking about it. I guess the fun wore off like a finished project. She started shrinking again. Not just her body, but her whole world. She slept later, read more, didn't go to Sunday school, didn't cook as much, quit sewing altogether. And she watched more TV than she ever had before—mostly reruns of old westerns. I tried to look after her and Daddy too. I started talking about Dolly Parton this and Dolly Parton that, thinking I could get them interested in Dollywood. I told Daddy about the folks running her big ole bra up the flag pole when she was there. And I told Mama about all the craftsmen she could watch and talk to and get ideas for new projects. But it didn't work. Daddy kept gardening and Mama kept shrinking.

One day, Daddy said it was right after “Gunsmoke,” Mama keeled over. He said it was the episode where Miss Kitty is kidnapped and Matt Dillion thinks he's lost her for sure. Daddy said Mama just bowed forward, rolled onto the floor, gentle-like, and curled up. He got her to the hospital and the doctor said she'd had a stroke.

Mama never did come conscious again, not really, except for calling out some names we'd never heard of. Mrs. Lois Turpin, who was sitting with her one afternoon, thought Mama was speaking in tongues. But I don't totally trust Mrs. Lois in religious matters, considering she drives around town with a license tag that says “I M SAVD.” Aunt Kate said she knew Mama wasn't talking in tongues, but didn't tell us who the names were. Daddy didn't say anything but seemed awfully upset.

I wrote Sarah right away and told her about Mama. She called me on the phone and asked me to pick her up at the airport. Now, I was missing her terribly and couldn't wait to see her but I hate driving that interstate. Since they raised the speed limit back up to 65-mph, every truck in the universe uses that highway. And I had the girls and Mama to help with and Daddy too. So I sent Andrew. I knew Sarah would be glad to see him, and she knows airports make me nervous. I've only flown once and that was years ago when I went to meet Andrew's folks.

Actually I kind of enjoyed the flying part but what I couldn't stand was taking off. My stomach churned and my ears buzzed and I felt all panicky. But the rest was fine. Except the airport in Boston. It was so crowded that you could get lost without taking a step. But it was old hat to Andrew. That's what I love about him. Nothing seems to shake him. Unless you count seeing me in labor.

The girls look real sweet today but they don't know what's going on. You never do as a child. I wanted to get them black dresses but you can't hardly find plain black for children. Anyway, Andrew wouldn't hear to it. Had a fit, I mean. I had to settle on navy blue shifts with big white collars and red bows. Cut the bows off. Andrew didn't want me to cut off the bows. I told him I could sew them back on for later. I haven't seen him this fidgety since I went into labor.

I didn't want him to see me flat on my back with my feet in those stirrups, but he wanted to do natural childbirth “for bonding,” he said, so we went through all these classes. But I've got to tell you, when the first pain hit, it was goodbye La Maze! Hello Demerol! The only time in my life I begged for a needle. The nurse told me afterward that not only did Andrew puke on his shoes but he nearly fainted when he saw there were twins. That was before they started doing ultrasound on everybody and her cousin, so twins were a real surprise to us. Scarlet and Charlotte. I named one and Andrew named the other.

I had my tubes tied right then and there, and Andrew didn't complain. He was real good about not bothering me for a while. Guess he was scared my tubes might come undone. I kind of hated not having a boy for Daddy but Sarah was still trying then. Don't know if any of hers were boys or not. She lost them so early. Except for one and they never did say which it was.

I didn't tell anybody but Andrew that Sarah was coming home. I was afraid she'd change her mind at the last minute. Sarah does that sometimes.

One time was when she and Nancy Lou decided to pierce their ears. Nancy Lou was her best friend in high school. Sarah knew not to ask Mama because she would say, “Only cheap girls had pierced ears when I was growing up.” First Nancy Lou and Sarah were going to this woman who pierces ears and reads palms, then they decided to use needles and bottle corks, then somebody told them you could get this device that pressed a hole through your earlobe while you slept. They went on for days and days trying to decide which method to use and whether they were going through with it or not. They gave up on the sleeping device because no one except somebody's cousin in New York had actually used it. Then one day Nancy Lou came in with earrings on and said she did it by herself. She used an ice cube to get her lobes all numb then she pushed her mother's embroidery needle through real fast before the feeling came back. That's all it took for Sarah.