exhausted, her fingers plucking the sheet.
Mrs. Avery always said you know death's on the way when a sick person goes to picking at the covers.
"Mr. Blakeslee, I seen the most beautiful bein's...." As Grandpa plopped down in the rocker, she went to telling him about it and got all excited again. "I wouldn't take a pretty for them angels!" She said it over and over. "I just wish you—"
"Forgit all thet, Miss Mattie Lou." Grandpa said finally. He spoke soft to her, like you would to a child. "Hit were jest a dream. You all tangled up in yore mind. Go to sleep now." He slid his left elbow under her neck, circling his other arm around her, and pulled her close to him, rocked her against him.
"Mr. Bla'slee," she mumbled, "if you'd a-come ... a mite sooner ... you'd a-seen'm....I seen a...."
"Sh-h-h. Go to sleep now, Miss Mattie Lou," he whispered, his strong arms holding her, gently rocking, slow and gently rocking. "You all tuckered out. Sleep now. Go to sleep."
She drifted quickly into a deep snoring stupor. By next day you could hardly wake her—and if you did, a minute later she'd go right back into that loud, awful breathing. The last time Grandpa got her roused up, she looked scared and said, "Sump'm terrible.... Sump'm awful's a-matter ... w' me...."
Grandpa smoothed the damp hair from her forehead, spoke soft. "Tell you the truth, you been pretty sick, Miss Mattie Lou. But you gittin' better now. You jest real tired and need to rest. So go on back to sleep, hear. I'll set right here by you. I ain't go'n go leave you, Miss Mattie Lou." He choked up. "I ain't ever go'n leave you...."
But she left him. That night the angels came back for her, like she'd asked them to.
And nobody who saw the heartbreak on Grandpa's face when Granny breathed her last would have thought for one minute that he was glad to get shet of her so he could marry Love Simpson.
8
A FTER G RANDPA and Miss Love eloped, a lot of people felt sure he had never so much as looked at the milliner till after Granny died and he needed a housekeeper.
But those same folks were sure as certain that Miss Love had had designs on him ever since Miss Mattie Lou took sick, and was after him from the minute he became a widower.
"I was onto Love Simpson from the beginnin'," skinny old Miss Effie Belle Tate told Mama after the elopement. "Nobody else suspicioned what was goin' on, but I did." Because of living next door to Grandpa, Miss Effie Belle acted like God had sent her a special delivery letter explaining all the goings-on. "Miss Mattie Lou's body wasn't hardly gone to the funeral parlor before that woman was down to your pa's house, washin' and moppin' and dustin' and sweepin'." The pink wart quivered on her thin upper lip. "I knew the minute Miss Love got out a broom that she was after the nearest of kin. Why else would a white woman go over to your daddy's house to get it cleaned up for the funeral?" she asked Mama. "Hit wasn't like he didn't have you and Loma to do for him."
But at the time of Granny's funeral, Miss Effie Belle had sung a different tune entirely. I remember how she talked across the coffin to Mama. "Ain't Love Simpson sweet to pitch in like this? After workin' for your pa two years, I reckon she knows how economical he is. He ain't go'n hire nobody to hep, and Lord knows, you and little Loma got your hands full. Not to mention your hearts bein' full to overflowin' with grief."
All Miss Effie Belle did for Grandpa that day was bring over a chocolate cake and a caramel cake. Being eighty-nine years old, she'd had plenty of practice and was by far the cake champion of Cold Sassy. Still and all, two cakes weren't anything like equal to the trouble Miss Love went to on the day before the funeral. Besides all the cleaning, she had washed and dried dishes for hours in Granny's hot kitchen. The house was full of sad people, come to cry and eat and drink tea, and Granny didn't have enough dishes without somebody being in the kitchen to
Mrs. Avery always said you know death's on the way when a sick person goes to picking at the covers.
"Mr. Blakeslee, I seen the most beautiful bein's...." As Grandpa plopped down in the rocker, she went to telling him about it and got all excited again. "I wouldn't take a pretty for them angels!" She said it over and over. "I just wish you—"
"Forgit all thet, Miss Mattie Lou." Grandpa said finally. He spoke soft to her, like you would to a child. "Hit were jest a dream. You all tangled up in yore mind. Go to sleep now." He slid his left elbow under her neck, circling his other arm around her, and pulled her close to him, rocked her against him.
"Mr. Bla'slee," she mumbled, "if you'd a-come ... a mite sooner ... you'd a-seen'm....I seen a...."
"Sh-h-h. Go to sleep now, Miss Mattie Lou," he whispered, his strong arms holding her, gently rocking, slow and gently rocking. "You all tuckered out. Sleep now. Go to sleep."
She drifted quickly into a deep snoring stupor. By next day you could hardly wake her—and if you did, a minute later she'd go right back into that loud, awful breathing. The last time Grandpa got her roused up, she looked scared and said, "Sump'm terrible.... Sump'm awful's a-matter ... w' me...."
Grandpa smoothed the damp hair from her forehead, spoke soft. "Tell you the truth, you been pretty sick, Miss Mattie Lou. But you gittin' better now. You jest real tired and need to rest. So go on back to sleep, hear. I'll set right here by you. I ain't go'n go leave you, Miss Mattie Lou." He choked up. "I ain't ever go'n leave you...."
But she left him. That night the angels came back for her, like she'd asked them to.
And nobody who saw the heartbreak on Grandpa's face when Granny breathed her last would have thought for one minute that he was glad to get shet of her so he could marry Love Simpson.
8
A FTER G RANDPA and Miss Love eloped, a lot of people felt sure he had never so much as looked at the milliner till after Granny died and he needed a housekeeper.
But those same folks were sure as certain that Miss Love had had designs on him ever since Miss Mattie Lou took sick, and was after him from the minute he became a widower.
"I was onto Love Simpson from the beginnin'," skinny old Miss Effie Belle Tate told Mama after the elopement. "Nobody else suspicioned what was goin' on, but I did." Because of living next door to Grandpa, Miss Effie Belle acted like God had sent her a special delivery letter explaining all the goings-on. "Miss Mattie Lou's body wasn't hardly gone to the funeral parlor before that woman was down to your pa's house, washin' and moppin' and dustin' and sweepin'." The pink wart quivered on her thin upper lip. "I knew the minute Miss Love got out a broom that she was after the nearest of kin. Why else would a white woman go over to your daddy's house to get it cleaned up for the funeral?" she asked Mama. "Hit wasn't like he didn't have you and Loma to do for him."
But at the time of Granny's funeral, Miss Effie Belle had sung a different tune entirely. I remember how she talked across the coffin to Mama. "Ain't Love Simpson sweet to pitch in like this? After workin' for your pa two years, I reckon she knows how economical he is. He ain't go'n hire nobody to hep, and Lord knows, you and little Loma got your hands full. Not to mention your hearts bein' full to overflowin' with grief."
All Miss Effie Belle did for Grandpa that day was bring over a chocolate cake and a caramel cake. Being eighty-nine years old, she'd had plenty of practice and was by far the cake champion of Cold Sassy. Still and all, two cakes weren't anything like equal to the trouble Miss Love went to on the day before the funeral. Besides all the cleaning, she had washed and dried dishes for hours in Granny's hot kitchen. The house was full of sad people, come to cry and eat and drink tea, and Granny didn't have enough dishes without somebody being in the kitchen to
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