Chapter 22

HEAVEN’S LIKE EVERYTHIN’ I EVER ’MAGINED AND THEN SOME. Jim and me get to sit here in these nice rockers on our front porch and look on down the lane through the oaks. Mama and Daddy live over yonder past the pecan trees in a real nice house, so I’ll be able to see ’em much as I want to, I reckon. Mama’s gonna make her okra soup and cornbread tomorrow night and have everybody over. Whooee! I sure have missed Mama’s cooking.

It’s a funny thing ’bout heaven. You get to see a great big picture now—things start to make sense to you what ain’t made sense before. It’s a wonder we understand each other a’tall down on Earth, what with us only seeing little snippets of folks every now and again.

Take for instance, I’m feeling sorta silly now, ’cause turns out, I ain’t had no magic powers in me a’tall. I found that out when I seen Auntie Leona this morning—yes sir, she’s here too, praise God. I was kinda worried about her making it up here, what with the hexes she’d put on people and what not. I sure was glad to see her, though. She’s looking better than ever. First thing she done when she seen me was laugh ’bout my love baskets.

“Essie Mae!” She squealed and hugged me hard, almost picked me up off the ground. “I missed you girl! I been watching your goings on with your ‘lo-ove baskets.’ Ain’t you a trip?”

“What you mean, Leona?”

“Your love baskets, baby. You don’t really think you was doin’ magic, now do you?”

“Well, weren’t I?”

“Naw, you weren’t, Essie Mae. You was prayin’ to Jesus, plain and simple. Jesus got the power, baby. Any power you was feelin’ was a-coming straight from Him.”

“You mean my love basket for Jim and me ain’t what killed me? But Retta finished it, and then I up and died. Ain’t that right, Jim? Ain’t that what happened?”

Jim just looked at me, shying away and backing up a couple steps. Guilt all over his face.

“James Furlow Jenkins! Why in heaven’s name did you tell me to make them love baskets?” He just smiled at me and held my face in his hands real sweet. “It give you somethin’ to do, now, didn’t it, Mama? You weren’t bored, now was you?”

So there you have it. Not one thing I thought I done with my love baskets actually happened ’cause of me. That don’t matter, it’s all water under the bridge now, what they say. And I get to be here with Jim and sweet Jesus, and who in they right mind would complain about that?

Seems like people I need to be seeing’s been dropping by the house all day long. Yes sir, all my loose ends is getting tied up nice. It’s a mighty fine feeling, I tell you what. Mama and Daddy just left. They come by to give me some sugar. What they told me ’bout my dying was my heart was ailing me for the longest time. I was a time bomb just a-waiting to go off any second; I just ain’t known nothing about it. Ain’t that something? Turns out I was gonna die no matter what that day, basket or no basket. The same thing goes for that old man and his dog too. I run into ’em up here, Mister Clayton and Happy, this morning right ’fore I seen Leona. That sure was a good time, seeing both of ’em all young and full and healthy as all get-out. Clayton laughed at me real hard when I told him I sure was sorry for killing ’em both.

I’ve only been here couple days, but I swanny, just one day in heaven’s like a whole lot of ’em on Earth. I can do anything I feel like and never get tired, never having to worry ’bout the sun going down and ruining all the fun. I can even sneak on down to Mount Pleasant like Jim used to do. He showed me how. Nobody knows I’m there, but I can do it just the same.

Watch this—I’m going right now.

I give Jim a kiss (can’t seem to get enough o’ them kisses), and then I head on down to our old house on Rifle Range Road. Ain’t like I got wings or nothing, I just set my mind to it and off I go. I find EJ and Henrietta peeking ’round in there. It’s awful quiet with neither one of ’em saying much. “Hey Retta, baby,” I say. “Hey there, EJ.” It’s the strangest thing, them not knowing I’m right here beside ’em.

Funny thing is, I can hear what they thinking. Brings tears to my eyes—both of ’em walking from room to room, remembering things about me. EJ sits down at the kitchen table and looks over at the stove, picturing me making his supper. His eyes well up, and he looks down at the table, thinking ’bout the talks we used to have. He’s remembering right now bringing Felicia over to meet me. All a sudden he’s worrying ’bout taking her home to his mama.

Henrietta’s been a long time in my bedroom, poking through my closet and thinking ’bout laughing and cutting up with me in there. We did that some when she was young, you know. When she weren’t off in a bad mood, that is. She thinking ’bout when she was little, trying on my dresses and great big shoes and clomping ’round proud like the queen o’ England. She sits down on my bed and runs her hand over my sheets. Remembers crawling up under the covers ‘tween me and Daddy Jim on a rainy night. Retta never did like a good storm. Uh oh. Now she fighting back tears. Don’t get me started.

“Don’t cry, baby. Mama right here,” I say.

Henrietta pulls out a nice dress of mine that she give me few years back. It’s the color o’ fresh cream and has a real nice silky feel to it. “I always did like that dress, Retta. That’s a mighty fine choice.”

She hugs it tight and then starts boo-hooing. She’s thinking ’bout taking me to that Sunndydale Farms couple months ago. She keeps seeing my face looking so sad and pitiful. She knows she done that to me. “Oh, Mama,” she says real soft and shaking. “Mama, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry! You just don’t know. I guess you’ll never understand.”

“Well no, Retta. That’s one thing I don’t understand yet. Why’d you wanna put your old mama away?”

I s’pose I’ll keep on listening and watching her. Maybe one o’ these days, I’ll understand my little girl.