Page 91 of Under the Tulip Tree
Before I could respond, she turned and disappeared into the house.
I’d sat there, stunned. For the first time in my life, my mother said she was proud of me. The day after Mr. Armistead’s editorial about me and the FWP ran in the paper, Peggy Denny had called Mama and let her know everyone at the women’s club was talking about it.
“We can’t imagine our little Lorena Ann has turned into such a fine reporter. Why, the whole country will read her articles when they appear inCollier’s,” she’d oozed. “Even the governor’s wife said we need to help those poor, unfortunate people down in the Acres. We’ll be discussing an initiative at our next meeting. We’d love to have you join us.”
Mama and I shared a grin when she hung up the phone.Nothing more was said about me going down to Hell’s Half Acre to interview the residents.
Holly and James escorted me and Alden to the table, where a feast awaited. Mama, Mary, and I had worked all morning preparing the food, laughing and enjoying each other’s company while Dad entertained the kids and kept them out of the way. It still amazed me to find my father sober these days. Having his grandchildren around worked some kind of miracle and helped him climb out of the dark pit he’d lived in for seven years. He still had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long time I saw hope in his eyes.
We gathered around the table, Alden on my right and Grandma Lorena on my left. Mama asked Grandma to offer the blessing, and as we all joined hands, my thoughts turned to Frankie. I would always be grateful God brought me to her doorstep. She’d taught me about life, about pain and sorrow, and about courage in the face of it all.
As Grandma prayed, thanking the Lord for his goodness to our family despite the hardships each of us faced, I silently said my own thanks for the events that led me to this place in life. Seven years ago, my hopes and dreams for the future had shattered in the wake of the stock market crash. I couldn’t see a way through it to the other side. Meeting Frankie and hearing her story changed that. Her courage to overcome the pain and suffering she endured taught me what it meant to be a survivor.
“Thank you for Frances Washington,” I whispered.
After the blessing, Dad carved the turkey while Mamabemoaned the lumps in her gravy. Mary tried in vain to keep Buddy from throwing peas on the floor while James and Holly fought over the basket of rolls. Grandma simply sat and watched it all with a small smile on her wrinkled face, enjoying the antics of our imperfect family.
I glanced at Alden and found his dancing eyes on me. I gave a shrug.This is my family, like it or not,it said.
He winked, then reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes, exclaiming over how delicious everything looked. Mama beamed from her place at the end of the table.
My satisfied sigh went unnoticed amid the commotion, but it didn’t matter. Life might not be exactly as I’d envisioned it seven years ago, but I wouldn’t change a thing.
