The Healing

Chapter 28





Out on the porch off the kitchen, Gran Gran was in her chair gathering the last warmth of a setting sun, her rocking as unbroken and deliberate as her thoughts.

Below her on the steps sat Violet, her attention silently and unyieldingly focused on the rough track that led into Shinetown. While the girl watched the hill, the old lady watched the girl. They now spent a good piece of each day this way.

Violet still never let Gran Gran out of reaching distance, but never touched her, those anxious eyes forever darting about into the dark corners of the house. The girl wore the scarf constantly, even to bed, but she refused to go near the suitcases, acting like they might bite. Gran Gran couldn’t blame her. She was afraid of them as well.

The old lady noticed Violet seemed most at peace outside on the porch, so Gran Gran sat with her, even on cooler days, taking the opportunity to spend long moments considering the girl as the two kept their separate vigils.

If there was talking, Gran Gran still did it all. She hadn’t heard herself go on this much since she was a chattering little girl in the kitchen. Gran Gran smiled. Violet was the only one who had never told her to shut up!

This girl was surely starving for words. Couldn’t seem to get enough. The more words Gran Gran spoke, the more the muscles in the girl’s face relaxed.

And yet, even now on the porch, Gran Gran could detect the nearly imperceptible tick of the child’s head, left to right to left, steady, like the pendulum of a clock. The old woman couldn’t say for sure, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Violet was keeping the same time she brought with her the very first night. Perhaps that rhythm is the last living piece she holds of her mother.

“I can’t swear to it,” Gran Gran said, as casually as she could, “but it could be you’re expecting somebody to come down off that hill.”

Violet remained silent and facing away, but the ropes in her neck tightened. Gran Gran didn’t need the sight to tell her what desperate hope Violet was holding out for.

Gran Gran judged it close to suppertime now. A trickle of white-uniformed maids were making their return trek from the top of the hill, where their white ladies dropped them off each day after working in the big houses up in Delphi. “All them people living in a place called Shinetown,” Gran Gran said, “you might think they would know something about who the woman was. But I expect just because you live on Oak Street don’t make you no expert on acorns. Of course back in my day, Violet, everybody knew about Polly Shine.”

The girl turned back to Gran Gran with upraised brows.

“There was a time when you called that name, Polly Shine, and folks thought you were speaking of God. Now some of what they said about Polly weren’t true. But she did do some mighty fine things. She didn’t fly to heaven in a fiery chariot or bring the sun to a dead stop in the sky. But still, folks today ought to know what she did for them. She is sure a big part of who they are.”