WELL , IT’S HARD TO GET OVER, sure ’nough. Jim and me’s so upset our Retta’s been with some man other than Eddie. Eddie always treated her right—better even than she should be treated sometimes by the way she acts.
We decided not to say nothing more ’bout it to Eliza last night, but made her sleep over in the spare bedroom. It’s fixed up real nice just the way Henrietta’s was when she was a girl. There’s even a little teddy bear; Eliza slept like a baby, hugging that bear. Jim and me just sat up fretting ’til the sun come back up.
I make Liza some eggs and grits and buttered toast for breakfast. She even eats oatmeal after that and two glasses of orange juice. Sure is a hungry little thing.
The weight of it all makes me stagger like an old mule. She’s our grandbaby. Just like EJ. It’s hard for us to take in but we got to know more, so we asked if we could walk with her back to her house.
Liza skips a few paces ahead of us, hopping on rocks and picking flowers ’long the way. I hold on to Jim’s arm. He’s moving right slow this morning—got a look on his face like the whole world’s just ironing him to the ground.
“There it is,” says Liza, pointing and turning to us. I see what looks like an oversized tree house. It’s painted baby blue with a crooked porch on the front and flowers growing out of every which-a-way, in the crevices around the door and in the floorboards.
She holds my hand and pulls us inside. We’s in a little living space with two chairs covered in worn stripes and a fireplace with no wood in it. The walls is painted a bright red, and it makes it hard to relax when we so anxious already. She has us sit in them two little chairs, and we feel like giants.
“I’ll get us some milk,” she says and disappears into the lime-green kitchen. We hear dishes rattling in the other room and Jim pushes himself out the chair to go stare at the wall. There’s pictures of people all over it. Most are little people, girls and boys with happy faces and bows and such. Then he sighs when he sees the picture of Henrietta. I move on over to him to get a good look myself.
My throat knots up. There’s no doubt about it. It’s my Retta, all right. I hold on to my chest and tears come to my eyes. That sweet thing in the other room is our granddaughter, sure ’nough! I think I might bust from being so happy and sad all at the same time.
We move over a little and my weary eyes rest on a wood frame with a man in the middle. I wipe my face and grab Jim’s arm tight when I see it. Lord have mercy, I recognize that face.
It’s a white man ’bout forty years old. Got balding red hair and a little pointed nose and his lips are just two straight lines. But the thing that does it is the eyes. They’s deep emerald green. I remember them eyes. How could I forget? It’s all starting to make sense to me now.
I met him one time, back when I was still driving. I’d gone over to the office to meet Retta for something. Must have been dropping off—food?—baskets? I can’t remember what right now. But he gave me a real happy hello. I can ’member thinking, Why that sure is a nice man.
I turn around and walk back to my chair, and Jim follows me, helping lower me down.
“You all right, Mama?” he asks me. I can’t answer him, though. I just keep a-staring at that photograph.
Finally, I find my tongue and say real weak-like, “That man, Daddy. I know him.”
“You know him? Who is he, then?” Jim stands next to me, holding my hand and watching that picture like it might move if we don’t keep an eye on it.
“That’s Ray Fines, Jim.”
He looks at me quiet.
“Ray Fines, Jim,” I whisper again. “Retta’s old boss.”
Jim’s face goes pale, and he looks like he might stumble. I start to help him sit in his chair but Eliza’s back now. She sets three glasses of tall cold milk on a little table then walks him to his seat. Sweet thing serves us one by one, careful not to spill a drop.
Eliza’s grinning like a little angel. “I always wanted real family,” she says. “They give me these pictures but it ain’t the same. I can’t believe I got me a grandmama and a granddaddy now. But here we all are, ain’t we? Ain’t that somethin’? Is your milk good? Should I get you some cookies? I got lots o’ cookies, you know.”
I grab her hand when she’s pointing back to the kitchen and say, “No, baby. Just come sit here with us.” I look around for another place to sit, but she just plops down Indian style on the wood floor in front of the fireplace.
We stare at that girl for the longest time. I’m just taking in that pretty face. Her eyes are like Retta’s if ’n they weren’t green. And it’s hard for me not to feel pain when I look in ’em, knowing my baby done been with her boss man. My mind fumbles on so. I keep thinking, What could ‘a happened? Did he force her to lay with him? Did he take advantage of my sweet Retta? Or worse, did she go with him on her own will? Did she plan on running ’round on poor Eddie?
Liza looks down at her feet and then out the window when we’s so quiet. Finally, I say, “Come here, Liza, baby.” And she rises up and walks to me, her hands dangling down her sides.
“I’m just so happy to finally know you,” I say, tears streaming down my cheeks. She looks at me funny and then leans in and wraps her arms around me. She hugs me so tight, I think the breath might leave me and never come back. And the smell of her, the sweet innocence of her just a-washes over me. I hope she never lets me go.
“I’ll love you forever, little Miss Liza,” I say. She pulls back from me, and I see there’s tears in her eyes too.
“Well now, don’t forget about your old granddaddy,” says Jim, and Liza flies on over to him to kiss his forehead.
“You ’bout ready to start weavin’, baby?” I ask her after she lets him go, and she squeals with pleasure and runs to the door. Then we walk on out by the water again and have us our first weaving lesson, grandmama and granddaughter—just like it ought to be.