“Be honored,” the man said as he tipped his hat, and the other man followed him out the door.
Doll and T-Bone stood by their father. They were all staring down at Purnell, who was dressed in his finest suit. He looked as if he were asleep, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed. Doll thought she could even detect a slight smile across his lips. She was amazed at how well the undertakers had been able to disguise the bullet hole to his head.
“The undertakers done a right fine job on Purnell,” Crow said as he touched Purnell’s hand with such tenderness it brought tears to Doll’s eyes.
Doll put her arms around her father’s shoulders. “Yep, Daddy. They done a mighty fine job.”
“Purnell looks like he could get up and walk right out of here at any moment. Wake right up, and walk right out. Like nothing ever happened,” T-Bone added.
“Sure do. Sure do.” Crow nodded. “How’s your mama doing?” He looked at Doll with those dark eyes rimmed in yellow that had always made her heart melt.
“She’s taking a rest, lying on her bed with a pillow over her face. Been that way awhile.”
“She taking this mighty hard. Third boy to pass on. Don’t get no easier,” Crow said.
“Nope, don’t get no easier,” Doll repeated.
At a knock on the door, Crow looked up. “Not even sundown yet, and we already got our first visitor. Come on, T-Bone. You gone tend the bar.”
“Birdelia!” Doll screamed. “I need you!”
Birdelia came down the hall and stood in front of her mother. “No need to yell. I’m right here, Mama.”
“Sorry, baby. I didn’t see you. Better start putting the food out. We already got visitors.” She waved her hand toward the kitchen and went over to answer the door.
“Am I the first one here?” a pudgy woman carrying a tray asked. “I brought you some deviled eggs.”
“Yes, you is, Leola, but you always the first one to come.” And the last one to leave, too, Doll muttered under her breath.
“I am not,” Leola protested.
“Yes, you is, and you know it, but it don’t matter none. Come on in.” She took the tray of deviled eggs from Leola.
Leola followed Doll to the kitchen. “Birdelia, find a place for Leola’s eggs, then prop the front door open with one of them plastic chairs on the front porch. People can let themselves in. Sure they find the bar soon enough. I’m gone go back and check on Mama.”
“I’ll help Birdelia,” Leola said, shooing Doll away with her hand. “You go on back and tend to your mama. Good thing I came when I did.”
“Uh-huh.” Doll headed toward Queenie’s room at the back of the house. When she opened the door, her mother wasn’t in the bed.
“Mama?”
There was no answer.
She called out again, “Mama?”
The door to the bathroom was ajar. When she crossed the room, she spotted her mother sprawled on the floor on the other side of the bed.
“Mama, what are you doing?” Doll knelt down beside her. “Why you on the floor?”
Queenie was staring up at the ceiling.
“I know you can hear me, Mama. No use playing possum.” She grabbed Queenie’s arm and pulled her up into a sitting position. “What you doing lying on the floor like that?”
Queenie sighed. “Fell out a bed. Didn’t have the strength to get up.”
“Now come on. Get back in bed. Leola is already here. Expect all the other folks be by shortly.” She took her mother’s hands and pulled her up, then settled her on the bed, tucking the covers around her.
“Purnell here?” Queenie asked.
Her mother’s eyes held so much sadness that Doll had trouble keeping her composure. “Yes, Mama.”
“How he look?”
“Just fine,” Doll said. “Undertakers done a fine job on him.”
“I want to go see.” Queenie threw back the covers.
“You got plenty of time for that. You just rest awhile,” Doll said, patting her shoulder.
Queenie slumped back down on the bed and threw her arm over her forehead.
“You want visitors?” Doll asked.
Queenie turned her head and looked at Doll. “I want to talk to you first.”
Doll sat on the bed next to her. “About what? I already got all the food set on platters. Birdelia’s putting it out for the guests, and Daddy and T-Bone, they out back setting up the bar.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Queenie took Doll’s hand.
“What you mean then?”
“You sorry?” Queenie asked.
“Mama, them pills the doctor gave you, I believe they making you all funny.”
“No, Doll. It ain’t the pills. I mean, you sorry you my daughter? You ever sorry you here?”
Queenie had never spoken to her like this, but Doll knew her mother never did take death well. The loss of Purnell was on her mind, stirring up thoughts of her other two sons that had departed this world too soon.
Doll tried to soothe her by stroking her cheek. “Now, why would I be sorry?”
“Things could have been different,” Queenie said.