Chapter 3

“Tuna fish salat,” Lillian said, motioning to the plate on the kitchen table. “I always think of it when springtime come rollin’ ’round.”

“It does look good,” I said, sitting at the table. “Have you eaten?”

Lillian laughed. “I been eatin’ all mornin’.” She scrubbed a spot on the counter, then rinsed the cloth under running water. “Miss Julia, did you hear ’bout pore ole Miss Mattie Freeman? Everybody at the grocery store wonderin’ what gonna happen to her now.”

“Yes, I have heard, and I’ve been wondering the same thing. It’s so sad to be all alone in the world, which is what we think she is. I can’t imagine what she’ll do. I don’t even know what her choices would be in the way of getting the help she’ll need.”

“Well, they’s lots of nursin’ homes out in the country,” Lillian said. “But they all crowded up with cranky ole people that can’t do nothin’ for their selves. I wouldn’t put my dog in a one of ’em.”

“Oh, dear,” I said, lifting a fork full of tuna salad. “Well, I hope she’s had the foresight to designate someone to make those decisions for her if it comes down to it. But,” I went on, “for all we know, she could get over this and be her old self again. Lots of people do.”

“Yes’m,” Lillian agreed, but with little conviction. She busied herself with pulling out various pans and pots in preparation for dinner. “Oh, I forget to tell you,” she said, turning to me, “I run into that nice Miss Etta Mae in the coffee aisle at the store today. She ast me how you doin’.”

“Well, how sweet of her. I haven’t seen her for a while. Is she getting along all right?”

“Yes’m, I guess. She smilin’ an’ talkin’ like she always do. But, I tell you, she have that long, lonesome look ’round her eyes—you know what I’m talkin’ about. So all that talkin’ an’ carryin’ on don’t fool me. She a sad young woman.”

“Oh, I hate to hear that,” I said, putting down my fork, troubled by Lillian’s insight—she was rarely wrong. “I hope nothing bad has happened to her.” I put my napkin by my plate and stood up. “I think I’ll call her and see how she’s doing. I’ve been thinking of her anyway, wondering if she might be available to help Mattie when she comes home.”

“Yes’m, Miss Mattie gonna need lots of help, an’ maybe Miss Etta Mae could go stay with her like she did when Miss Hazel Marie have her twinses.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” I said, rolling my eyes just a little. “You wouldn’t believe what her employer—Lurline Somebody—charged for letting her do private duty. I wouldn’t have minded if Etta Mae had gotten it—I mean, she was up and down all night every night with those babies, then taking care of them and Hazel Marie during the day. She earned every penny, but she only got her regular salary.”

Lillian smiled. “I ’spect you make up for it, though.”

I smiled back. “A workman is worthy of his hire, I always say.”

I stood by the table for a few minutes, lost in thought. Then I said, “You know, if anybody else could hear me I wouldn’t say this—I’d probably be strung up by wild-eyed feminists. But I think what Etta Mae needs is a man.”

“Law, Miss Julia,” Lillian said, laughing as she cut her eyes at me. “From what I hear, she already have a bait of ’em. I ’spect that the last thing on her mind.”

“Well, I’m talking about a decent, hardworking man who’d love her and support her as she deserves to be. She’s all alone in the world except for Granny Wiggins, who seems healthy enough now, but how long will that last? And it’ll be Etta Mae who’ll be taking care of her.”

“Well, you know what they say. You spend the first part of your life taking care of chil’ren, an’ the last part taking care of your mama an’ daddy. An’ your grands, too, if you got ’em.”

“That’s the truth,” I said, then had to smile because it wasn’t the truth for me. “I guess that’s the bright side of having no children and outliving all your relatives. I tell you, Lillian, I don’t think I’m cut out for taking care of an old person. Not enough patience, for one thing.”

Lillian grunted. “You didn’t think you was cut out to take care of no chil’ren, either, and look what been happenin’.”

“Well,” I conceded with a smile, “Lloyd is a different matter altogether. And the little Pickens girls, too. And I guess Coleman and Binkie’s Gracie as well. But I’d rather deal with children than with some sharp-tongued old person who’s never pleased with anything you do.”

“You got that right, ’less,” she said, stopping to laugh, “it Latisha you got to deal with. She a handful.”

I smiled at the thought of Lillian’s talkative great-grandchild. “Well, it’s said that the Lord never gives you more than you can handle, but I thank goodness that Sam and I are the oldest in both our families. I don’t have to worry about having someone in declining health on my hands for the rest of his or her life.”

“Yessum,” Lillian mumbled as she began peeling potatoes. “The Lord, He know what He doin’, all right.”

_______

“Etta Mae?” I said when she answered her cell phone. “It’s Julia Murdoch. I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time.”

“Oh, Miss Julia! How nice to hear from you, and, no, it’s not inconvenient. I’m in my car, on my way to the next patient.”

“Well, good. You’re so busy that I always hesitate to call.”

“Oh, don’t do that. You can call anytime you want to. I can always stop what I’m doing if you need anything.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Etta Mae. But what I’m calling about now is to see if you could add another patient to your list.”

There was silence on the line. Then she asked, “Are you having trouble, Miss Julia?”

“Me? Oh, no. My goodness, I’m as healthy as a horse. No, I’m calling about a friend who might need some help.” And I went on to tell her about Mattie Freeman, although emphasizing that I was simply exploring the possibilities.

“Well, sure,” Etta Mae said, although with markedly less enthusiasm than I’d previously heard. “Lurline would have to rearrange the schedules with the other girls, but if you ask for me, I expect she would.”

“Understand, though,” I said, “that I’m not talking about round-the-clock care from you. That would be entirely too much to ask—and I’m not that close to Mattie. And it may not come to needing you at all. For all I know, she’s made her own plans, and I hope she has.”

“Maybe so, but you can let me know.”

“Thank you, I will. But, Etta Mae . . . ?”

“Ma’am?”

“How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m okay,” she said with a sigh. “Just a little disappointed, I guess. I thought maybe you were calling about taking another trip to West Virginia or Florida or somewhere.” She laughed at her dashed hopes.

“I tell you what, Etta Mae,” I said, about to promise something that I’d never thought of before. “When this business with Mattie is settled, we ought to take a trip. But not for the reasons we took the other ones. Let’s think about just going somewhere for fun.”

“I would love it,” she said, and from the way she said it, I knew she meant it.