Chapter 45

“MAMA? DO YOU LIKE IT? Can you see this, Mama? I made it just for you.”

All a sudden, my body falls down and hits the ground hard. It feels like a ton of bricks just fell all over me. My body aches with a pain I just can’t believe, and my head feels fuzzy and thick. My ears hurt with a plumb-awful sound like rushing waters flooding my brain. Then I hear this funny beeping noise and turn my head to see it. I push and push and all a sudden, my eyes open up. Good Lord have mercy, I can’t believe what I see.

Liza ain’t here no more. Neither is Jim. But EJ and Retta are there looking down over me, and there’s that great big basket Liza weaved, cradled in Retta’s arms.

“Mama? Mama! Come quick, EJ! Mama!” Henrietta drops that basket on the floor and leans down on me, hugging me tight. And I feel it. Dad-gum, I feel her warm body up against mine. I feel the wetness of her tears as she kisses my face. I smell the perfume in her hair, and I’d like to bust right outta my skin. I know where I am, but I just can’t believe it.

“Grandmama?” says EJ, leaning in and sitting next to me. He puts his hand up on my forehead and runs his fingers over my braids. Then he leans down and kisses me on the cheeks and the eyes and the forehead and everywhere else he can find to kiss. I’m alive. I ain’t dead no more, and it’s the strangest thing, but I’m confused, and I don’t know how to feel about it all.

June

I was gone right near eight months, what they tell me. Which is strange, ’cause in heaven, ’bout four years passed. I reckon heaven time and Earth time ain’t the same thing a’tall. Don’t matter though. In the past couple months, I’ve learned how to talk again. I can sit up and visit with my EJ. He comes to see me every day, and every other time he brings Felicia—sure ’nough, they got married while I was away. I just ain’t told ’em I was at the wedding too. Felicia’s expecting, but Miss Cassie ain’t been born yet.

Yes sir, everything seems all fine and good, but I’m getting right tired of being in this hospital bed, and I can’t wait to get on outta here.

Jeffrey comes to see me lots and even little Miss Susanne Maybree. They brought flowers and cookies and everything I needed. I got magazines and books and my very own big-print Bible what has my name in it, Essie Mae Laveau Jenkins. I been doing a lot of reading and talking to Jesus who brought me on back for more living to do.

The doctors say they ain’t never seen nothing quite like it. I was in a coma for a long while, and they was saying I’d never wake up. But Retta wouldn’t listen to ’em none. She never gave up on me. In fact, Retta’s been here with me in the hospital room almost every second. She’d long quit her job at that office, and Eddie don’t mind none. He lets her come as often as she wants. He’s a good man, that Eddie. I’ll always love him for that.

Retta would sit there with me, praying and weaving ’til the wee hours of the night. I got baskets growing up all around me. The nurses say that’s what brought me back—said it was all them prayers and sweetgrass weaving me back to life.

It took me a long while to get used to the fact that I’m back in Mount Pleasant and not in heaven no more. Don’t get me wrong now, Mount Pleasant’s a nice-enough place, but it ain’t heaven. No sir. My body’s fat and heavy and painful. And my Jim don’t come to see me no more. I’m still grieving over that. I miss him so much. And I miss Mama and Daddy and Auntie Leona too. Seems like I done lost ’em all over again. But the hardest thing for me to deal with, if I’m telling the truth, is not seeing my Liza. That little ol’ thing had grown closer to me than a freckle, and her not being here leaves me feeling real empty inside.

I hope you don’t think I’m awful for saying this. I love being back with EJ and Henrietta. But it all takes some getting used to, I reckon. Just like it took a little getting used to being up in heaven.

Now in all this time I been back, I never mentioned to Retta that I knew about Eliza. It never seemed like the right time to me. But today I’m leaving the hospital to go back to my house on Rifle Range Road, and I got a strange feeling down deep inside me—sure ’nough, it feels like the time has come.

We have a little going-away party for me. All the nurses and staff are there and EJ and Retta, Eddie and Clarice, Miss Maybree and Jeffrey Lowes. Even Miss Nancy and Miss Georgia come over. All the people who love me are there, and it’s a real fine party with a sheet cake and party hats. Everybody raises their cups and say real nice words about me. I couldn’t ask for anything nicer. And when all my belongings are packed up and EJ’s buckled me into Retta’s car, he goes on back to his car—still driving my old station wagon. Then Retta gets in beside me, and it’s just the two of us at last.

It’s a quiet ride, me watching the side of the road, looking at buildings I remember and such. It’s nice to see the trees again. I did so miss the trees.

Henrietta sits there, driving, staring ahead like she should. Every once in a while, she looks over at me and we smile. Finally, when we get on that dad-blasted Cooper River Bridge, my mouth starts running so I won’t have to think ’bout being so high up in the air.

“Retta?” I say.

“What, Mama?”

“It’s mighty good to be back.”

“It’s good to have you back, Mama. We missed you. I can’t tell you how much.”

“Retta?”

“What is it, Mama?”

“I was in heaven all that time.”

Retta stays quiet. All I can hear is the wibble, wibble, wibble of the tires going ‘cross the bridge. I can tell she’s most likely thinking I had me one long dream, lying there in that hospital bed. But I know the difference. It ain’t just a dream.

See, Mama used to tell me ’bout the dream she had when she turned a Christian. She was a young girl ’bout fifteen years old. Back then the Gullah had their own ways o’ doing things left over from Africa days. Mama was seeking Jesus so the elders had her go out in the wilderness and look for Him there. She had to wait nearly two days in the dark and scary, all the while praying for the presence of God to meet her. Out there in the woods, Mama had a vision—I can’t remember the details now—but that seeker dream was told to a spiritual mother in the Gullah community who knew ’bout those things. She told Mama, yes indeed, she’d met the Lord in the wilderness. Mama was happy as all get-out and a Christian ever after.

So I know what’s a dream and what ain’t. And I know when my body was lying there in that hospital bed, my spirit was in heaven for real. The good Lord met me there just as plain as you and me.

“I really was, Retta,” I tell her when we come off that bridge and get on good ground again. “I was in heaven. I was with Daddy and Mama and Jim and Leona too.”

She still don’t say a word, but flashes a real quick glance my way.

“Know what else?”

“What, Mama?” I can tell she still don’t believe me.

“I met your baby there, Retta.”

Henrietta swallows hard and cranes her neck at me.

“Keep your eyes on the road, child! You’re gonna get us both killed.” When she’s looking straight ahead again, I say, “Retta, honey, I know all about your baby. I know all about you and Ray Fines.”

All a sudden, Retta slams on the brakes and cars screech up to us, honking all the way! I grab my safety belt and stare at Henrietta. Her head’s down on the steering wheel. She’s bawling like a baby, and here we are, like a scared turtle right in the middle of Highway 17.

After a minute or two, I coax her into moving again. Maybe telling her that mess while we was driving weren’t the best idea. EJ comes up behind us waving his arms, wondering what in tar-nation’s going on. I roll my window down to him and tell him everything’s okay, and just to go on to the house without us for a minute.

Retta pulls on over in a Hardee’s parking lot. There’s folks pulling in and out of the drive-thru window. I watch ’em go by for a while and Retta cries.

After a few minutes, she sniffles and looks at me like a lost puppy dog. “It can’t be,” she says. “How could you know? There’s no way you could know about this. How did you find out? Is it true? Have mercy! Is it true?”

“It’s true, baby. I was there. And that little girl of yours is somethin’ else,” I say.

“It’s . . . she’s a girl? Oh, have mercy.”

“She’s the prettiest thing you ever saw. Looks a lot like you, you know, ’ceptin’ she has bright green eyes.”

Retta looks at me, pained. She knows they’re Ray’s green eyes.

It seems like the longest time that we sit there talking. She wants to know all about Eliza. I tell her that’s her name now. I tell her what she looks like and how she’s a better weaver than I ever hope to be. I tell her about her sweet smile and the way she loves to pick flowers in the field and skip in the sunshine. But I never ask her how come that baby ended up in heaven. That’s ’tween her, Liza, and the good Lord now.

Retta holds my hand tight and asks me not to say a word to nobody, ’specially Eddie. I tell her my mouth is shut long as I’m living and it’s up to her to tell him, if ’n she ever wants to. That, I reckon, is ’tween her, Eddie, and the good Lord, as well.