The Healing

Chapter 23





As Gran Gran lay in bed that night unable to sleep, she considered taking Violet down to the creek bank when the weather warmed to scrape up a bucket of clay. Then sit with her and show her how to shape and fire the masks, as Polly Shine had done when Gran Gran was a girl.

Of course, that would depend on whether Violet stayed. There could be family who would want her back, a family whose names might be lurking in one of the suitcases under Gran Gran’s bed.

With the thought of Violet’s departure, for the first time instead of relief, there was a hollow ache in the old woman’s chest. Why would God remind a person at the small end of her life how lonely she had been for the biggest part of it? When it was too late to do a damn thing but regret it?

Her mind working too hard to sleep, Gran Gran rose from her mattress, kneeled on the floor, and slid out one of the suitcases from under the bed. She had thought hard about opening them with Violet watching but decided against it. Gran Gran remembered the anxious reaction Violet had to the return of the wagon. There would likely be the smells of her mother, memories of kisses and other comforts. Of picnics and playing with dolls and dressing up, whatever it was they did together. Perhaps the suitcases even contained vestiges from the room where Violet had found her mother that day. No telling what nightmares the luggage held. Not all remembering is a way back. Could be too much hurt, too quick.

Gran Gran recollected what the old heads used to say. That if you woke a person too suddenly out of a dream, his soul would not be able to find its way back. And that girl, Gran Gran reminded herself, is still a house of dreams.

No, she would not take that chance. She decided she would go through the luggage herself. Gran Gran carefully released the latches one at a time, catching them before they could snap back on their springs. She quietly raised the lid.

All at once the room filled with the smell of perfumed silks and satins and lace. Gran Gran inhaled deeply, captured by the effect. It wasn’t a feeling for Lucy or even Violet that overwhelmed her. It was another who came to her, so overpowering, the memory brought a catch to her throat.

She inhaled again and then closed her eyes, letting the perfumes carry her to a place she had not been in years. “Oh, Mistress, Mistress!” she laughed sadly. “Don’t let anybody ever tell you that you weren’t a mess and a half!”

When Gran Gran looked down, it was not the clothing that caught her eye. Whoever had packed the case had emptied dozens of photographs on top before closing the lid. Most were loose, but the one that she noticed was in a silver frame. It showed a man and woman standing in what looked like a church. He was wearing a soldier’s uniform. She was holding a bouquet of flowers, smiling big, nothing like the desperate woman who had first come to Gran Gran, painted up and begging for help.

Gran Gran didn’t touch the photograph. She had no right. Instead she reached under the frame and removed a yellow silk scarf. She then closed the lid of the case, latched it, and shoved it back under the bed.

“Yes,” she said to herself. “We’ll unpack this thing slowly, a piece at a time.”

That night the current of Gran Gran’s dreams was strong, sometimes even violent, breaking through dammed-up places, searching for its bed. As it surged, images became clear, picking up the light. The silt was settling out to the bottom. She awoke the next morning with the mistress on her mind, the scent of her perfume seemingly in the air.

Over breakfast, she carefully pulled the yellow scarf from her apron pocket and eased it across the table to Violet. The girl stared expressionless at the silk cloth, as if waiting for it to break the silence. Then, as if nothing had happened, she went back to cutting her ham.

She still wasn’t ready.

“If I recall,” Gran Gran said at last, “Mistress Amanda had a silk scarf like that one.”

Violet looked up from her plate, lifting her brows.

“Probably had a trunk full of them. And then there were the ones that belonged to Miss Becky. They mostly got burned up in the fire.”

The girl stopped chewing, her eyes intently focused on Gran Gran.

“What, I didn’t tell you about the fire? Why I swear, that woman was out to kill us all!”