Chapter Thirteen

Riley strolled into the church and sat down in an empty pew in one of the back rows. As Pastor Tim preached Riley’s mind wandered. It bothered him that Sully had said those things to Stella. It bothered him that Stella had been angry at him even though he’d been nothing but nice to her. Although he understood that she needed someone to focus her anger at, it didn’t seem right that it should be at him when he had been the one to apologize. Plus he hadn’t been the one to use the N-word. He despised that stupid word whether it came from a white or a black person. The last time he’d used it was in college and the circumstances were special. He hadn’t ever thought to use it again.

Pastor Tim’s words began to infiltrate his thoughts and he stopped thinking for a moment and began to listen.

 “Listen to the Wisdom of Solomon: ‘For the waywardness of the naïve shall kill them, and the complacency of fools shall destroy them.’ Proverbs 1:32. Let me give you two symptoms of complacency: 1. Satisfaction with the way things are. 2. Rejection of things as they might be.”

Riley frowned to himself and silently repeated those words. Satisfaction with the way things are. Rejection of the things as they might be…

Pastor Tim continued and Riley listened.

“Look at Revelation 3:14-16. ‘And to the angel of the church in Laodicea write: The Amen, the faithful and true witness, the Beginning of the creation of God, says this: I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. So because you are lukewarm and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.’

“The middle ground is actually the lowest ground. Do you see that?” Pastor Tim exclaimed among a chorus of ‘Amens’. “Jesus says I would rather have you hot or cold but I can’t stand lukewarm. I would rather have you love or hate but I can’t stand indifference. Jesus hates the middle ground. Look at what the verse says. He is saying I would rather have you too – hot or cold – I hate lukewarm. I would rather have you love or hate – I despise indifference. The middle ground is the lowest ground, brothers and sisters.”

Riley’s attention was fine tuned throughout the rest of the service. Even when the chorus sang and the testimonies began, Riley watched and listened intently. For the first time in a long while he felt as if he’d gotten something from being at church.

After the service he went up to Pastor Tim and shook his hand. “Good service, pastor.”

“Why thank you, Riley.” He slapped him lightly on the back. “You staying for the church picnic?”

“No sir. I’m going to visit my granny.”

“Why don’t you take her a slice of pie, and one for yourself? She liked Birdie’s lemon pie.”

Miss Birdie did make the best lemon pie in all Estill County. And granny had tried getting the recipe but Miss Birdie never revealed it. She wouldn’t even purchase the ingredients on Cobb Hill out of fear that someone would reveal the ingredients.

“I’ll do that. Thanks Pastor.” Riley ended up chatting with a few people as he got two huge slices of pie boxed up.

Mr. Dukes placed an arm around his shoulder as he grinned. “How ya doin’ Riley?”

“Doing fine Mr. Dukes. And yourself?”

“Good as gold. Hear you looking for a job.”

“Yep. Know about any prospects?”

Mr. Dukes leaned in and whispered. “Well we need someone to run some moonshine from over in Alumbaugh. You can make yourself a pretty penny and help us out.”

Riley looked at him in surprise and then abruptly shrugged Mr. Dukes arm from his shoulder. He walked away. He had a lot of God damn nerves asking him to run his moonshine! Would he have said that to one of them Ravenna boys? No, he wouldn’t have. He headed for his truck with his head down, effectively avoiding any more conversation.

 

 

When he got to LovingCare he saw his grandmother sitting out on the covered porch along with a few other residents. When she saw him approach her face lit up into a broad smile.

“Riley! This is my grandson,” she announced. “Isn’t he handsome? He was a professional football player before he got hurt. It was a dirty tackle. They were out to get him.”

Riley grinned, ignoring the others who were watching him in interest. Seeing his grandmother alert and aware made his day—hell, it made his week. He bent down and kissed her wrinkled cheek, his smile nearly as broad as hers.

“Hi granny, how are you doing?” He said while pulling up a nearby chair.

“Well other than it being hot enough to melt this fake costume jewelry, I’m fairing well.”

He burst out laughing. He loved when his grandmother was like her old self. She was wearing big white plastic balls in her pierced ears and a matching bracelet and necklace. He didn’t recognize it so it was probably a gift from one of the residents or staff.

“Helen,” she said to a blue haired woman that was also sitting in a wheelchair right next to hers. “This is the grandson I’ve been telling you about.” She turned to Riley. “Helen just got here a few days ago.”

Helen leaned in and whispered loudly to Riley. “I’ve been here nearly a year, but your grandmother forgets things.”

Grandma scowled. “All of us in here forget things or we wouldn’t be here!” She calmed and reached out and patted Riley’s beard. “Such a smart handsome boy.”

His smile faded. Not so smart, and the handsome part was questionable. He thought about Stella for a split second and then he handed her one of the boxes.

“I brought you this.”

She clapped her hands together. “Oh a gift!”

Once it was sitting in her lap he opened it and she exclaimed at the sight of the slice of pie.

“It’s one of Miss Birdie’s pies. There was a picnic at church today. She wanted me to bring you a slice.”

“I love Birdie’s pies.” She looked at it lovingly. “There’s so much. Can I share it with my friends?”

“You sure can. Let me find some more plates and forks.” One of the attendants was standing nearby and she smiled at Riley. It was the older black lady that always spoke to him when no one else did. Next to her was a younger black woman that he didn’t recognize.

“I’ll bring out some plates.” The older woman disappeared and returned a few moments later with plastic plates and forks. The younger woman had wordlessly walked away from him while he waited.

“Jasper,” Granny called over to two men playing checkers. A thin black man looked up. “Come and try some of this pie that my grandson brought.”

Jasper smiled. “Why that sounds mighty fine.” He used a cane and ambled over. Riley peered at him in surprise. Did his grandma just call this man her friend?

“Hello there, young man.” Jasper said while holding out his hand. He was dressed dapper in tan slacks, which had been ironed perfectly so that the crease was razor sharp. He had on black shoes that were shined bright enough to show your reflection, and a white button down shirt completed the ensemble. 

Riley noticed a few of the black staff members watching him curiously. He shook Jasper’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” He said politely. One of the staff members cursed under her breath while another chuckled. When he saw them discreetly exchange money he hid a frown.

Riley ended up cutting both slices of pie and splitting it equally between himself, granny, Jasper and Helen. They ate their feast around a small table containing a potted plant, which Riley placed temporarily on the floor.

Granny was smacking her lips as she ate. “Birdie made the best lemon pie. I tried my damndest to get that recipe. I even had Vera down at the market spy on her for me, but I swear she sabotaged the ingredients. There’s no way she used concentrated lemons and lemon JELLO.” Granny narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “She was a sneak like that.”

“It is a very good pie.” Helen agreed.

“Best I’ve ever had.” Jasper stated while smacking his lips.

“This always tasted so good with coffee.” Granny replied.

“Hold that thought.” Riley stood and went over to where the kindly attendant and the young black woman were once again standing, observing the residents.

“Can we get some coffee?” Riley asked.

“Certainly Mr. Pranger.” The lady said with a smile that indicated that she didn’t mind at all, even though it probably wasn’t her job to go running after items for him.

“It will have to be decaf,” the younger woman stated while eyeing him as if she didn’t like what she saw.

“I doubt if they’ll know the difference,” he replied. The woman who was probably in her early thirties just looked at him.

“Please let us know in the future if you intend to bring sweets. Some of the residents take insulin.” She said coldly. So she didn’t like him. He almost told her that if her buddies hadn’t been so busy taking bets on him then they could have mentioned it before he shared the pie.

But then he remembered what Stella had said last night—something to the effect that blacks (Negroes) didn’t care what poor white trash thought of them. His cheeks flamed at the memory. Did this woman think that he looked down on her or on any person just because they were attendants? In her eyes was he nothing more than poor white trash?

The older attendant returned with a tray containing a pot of coffee, small coffee cups, packs of sugar, sweetener and cream.

“Thank you.” Riley said where normally he would have muttered it.

After the pie and coffee they went inside to cool off in the lounge. Jasper and Helen came along and they all talked about music and television. After an hour he lightly gripped his grandmother’s hand and kissed it. Why couldn’t she be like this all the time?

“I need to get going, granny.”

She reached up and gave him a hug. “Okay, sonny boy.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Helen, Mr. Jasper.” He shook hands with them and they thanked him for the pie.

“See you next week.” He called over his shoulder as he left.

“Thanks for coming to visit,” his grandmother replied with a smile that seemed to cover her entire face.

As he was leaving he saw the young black woman on the porch watching the other residents.

He almost walked right past her but then he stopped. “My grandmother’s doing good today.” He said with a smile. “I hope it lasts.” The woman’s expression shifted, the cool wariness retreated…a bit.

“I hope so too. There’s no cure for Alzheimer’s but with the right medication we can slow down its progression.”

He nodded. “I just want her to be comfortable.”

The woman hesitated. “It’s good that you visit every week. A lot of the residents don’t get visitors unless it’s their birthday or Christmas. They get so lonely here.” She looked him in the eyes. “Making friends is all they have sometimes.”

“Then I’m happy she’s made friends.” He said. He tilted his head, curious that she knew so much about these people. “Aren’t you a new attendant? I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m not an attendant. I’m a doctor,” she said with an edge of disapproval at his assumption. “I generally visit during the week.” Her expression changed as she studied him. “When she’s having good days she has friends. But then there are days when she lives in the past. Those aren’t always good days for any of us; friends or staff included.” The doctor continued to stare at him.

“She can be cantankerous.” Riley said softly thinking about how easily Sully had thrown around the N-word yesterday.

“Yes. Cantankerous.” The doctor said while staring at him.

Riley nodded and then left.