Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [23]
“But, Tillie, I – ”
It was at that moment that a fiddler and a banjo player marched down the hall and out the kitchen door, a snake of men, women, and children trailing them like a conga line. Out in the yard the two musicians met up with a bass player who was keeping time by pounding the grass with his foot. Spontaneous dancing broke out as the three men slid into some sort of hillbilly tune. Mom stepped to the window and stared, eyes wide, jaw unhinged.
By the time she turned around, Tillie had wandered off into the crowd. Mom looked from me to Wally to Valerie, who was watching the antics in the kitchen from her high chair. Squeezing her hands together and taking a deep breath, Mom said, “We will try to make the best of this.”
Wally shook his head. “I told you it was a mistake to let her live here. We should have taken her right back to the old folks home.”
Mom shut her eyes, slowly opened them. I thought for a moment she might agree, but she forced a smile and said, “Tillie’s been a big help, and I need her. I’m sure this” – she swept the crowded room with her eyes – “won’t happen again.”
“Sure, Mom,” Wally said, “just like you thought she’d never come back after that first time she showed up on the porch.”
A woman none of us recognized handed Mom an apron and said, “As long as you’re here, honey, you might as well make yourself useful.”
Mom looked at the apron, shrugged, and put it on. “Wally and Roz, you two make yourselves useful too.”
“Doing what?” Wally said.
“I don’t know. Pass out some hors d’oeuvres or something. Roz, you take care of Valerie. And – Oh, Dad!”
I was surprised to see Grandpa striding down the hall. I ran to him and threw my arms around his waist. He kissed the top of my head, and together we walked the rest of the way to the kitchen. “Janis, honey,” he said, “why didn’t you tell me you were having a party? I’d have helped you out.”
“Well, I didn’t know. I – ”
“You didn’t know you were throwing a party?”
“No, I . . . well, never mind, Dad. Where’s Marie?”
“She’s still at the store. I was driving by and noticed all the cars parked on your street, so I thought I’d stop – ”
“Yes. We seem to have attracted the whole town.”
“Wow, honey, you’ve even hired a three-piece band. I didn’t know you could throw a party like this. What’s the occasion?”
“Gramps,” I said, looking up at him, “did you see the paper today?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t read it yet. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Actually, Gramps,” Wally said, “it’s a party for Tillie.”
“Tillie?”
“You know, the nutcase who lives with us.”
“Wally!”
“Look, Mom, I just call them like I see them.”
Gramps shook his head. “Wally, I’ve spoken with you before about disrespecting your elders.”
“Yeah, well.” Wally shrugged and smirked. “I’ve got to find some hors d’oeuvres to hand out to our guests.”
He moved away, and Mom and Grandpa let him go. “Listen, Dad,” Mom said, “as long as you’re here, grab a plate and enjoy the food. I’d better get busy. I think it’s going to be a long night.”
Mom was right. It was a long night, with the party going on past midnight, our property invaded by a parade of mostly unfamiliar faces coming and going, eating and drinking, dancing and laughing and chattering. Tillie flitted about from guest to guest, the life of the party, queen for a day, the one being honored and cheered and welcomed back to the home that was no longer legally hers. Johnny Monroe stayed close by her side, toasting her again and again with a lift of a plastic cup filled with orange raspberry punch, explaining that yes, yes, the nursing home had been a temporary arrangement, only temporary, since who, after all, could separate Tillie Monroe from the house she had helped build with her own two hands?
I too moved around from room to room, eating, watching, listening, pulling Valerie along with me until she grew tired and began to whine. I eventually took her upstairs and put her to bed, then moved