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a little, I helped him back to the rocker Granny had
used, the one with the best cushions to make it more
bearable for painful hips and joints. "Ain't nobody to
call me Toby no more," he said in the saddest way. "I'll call you Toby," I said quickly.
"So will I," volunteered Tom.
Grandpa said more after Granny died than I'd
heard him say since I was born.
"Oh, God, life's gettin dreary!" cried Fanny. "If
somebody else dies, I'm takin off!"
Sarah looked up, stared at Fanny for the longest
time before she disappeared into the second room,
where I heard the bedsprings squeal in protest as she
threw herself down and cried again.
For when Granny's spirit left our cabin, all the
love that held us together seemed to go with her.
six The End Of Road
. FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE GRANNY HAD GIVEN IT TO ME, when everyone was fast asleep I tiptoed to that secret place where I had hidden my mother's suitcase. I pulled it out from under all the old boxes full of junk and carefully, while sitting behind Ole Smokey so Fanny couldn't wake up and see, I took out the doll.
The magical-beautiful bride doll that
represented to me my mother.
I held that long, hard bundle for a long time, thinking back to the winter's night when Granny had given it to me. I'd been in and out of the suitcase a dozen times to fondle this or that, but I'd not unwrapped the doll since. Many a time I'd wanted to stare at the pretty face surrounded by all that lovely pale hair, but I'd feared doing so would make me feel sick inside for a mother who must have deserved better than she got. Granny's frail voice came as a whispery ghost to echo in my ears:
"Go on, chile. Ain't it time ya looked good t'see what's inside? Been awonderin many a year why ya don't want t'play with it, an wear t'fancy clothes."
I felt her thin white hair whispering across my face, felt the cold winter winds blowing as I took out the fancy bride doll and unwrapped her. In the glow of the fire I stared at her face. How lovely she was in her marvelous white lace gown and veil, with tiny buttons that fastened right up to the chin, with white filmy stockings, white satin-and-lace shoes that could be taken off and put back on. She wore a blue satin garter, for something blue, and held a tiny white-andgold Bible with silk orange blossoms and white satin ribbons dangling, for something new.
Even her underwear was exquisitely made, a tiny bra to cup small hard breasts, and defiantly there was a cleft where most dolls remained neutered between the thighs.
Why was this doll made differently, more realistically?
It was part of the mystery of my mother, the doll and what it had to signify in her life. Someday I'd find out. I kissed her small face and saw the cornflower-blue eyes up so close there were faint specks of green and gray and violet--like my own eyes! My very own eyes!
In the morning, while Fanny was visiting a friend, and Tom was out showing Keith and Our Jane how to fish with more skill, I remembered when Granny told me how Pa had wanted to chop up everything my mother had left behind, so she'd taken the suitcase and its contents and hidden them away. Now I'd lost Granny. My best connection to the past. Pa would never talk to me the way she had. Grandpa no doubt hadn't even taken notice of the girl his son called angel.
"Oh," I sighed as Tom came in. "Look, Tom, here is a doll that Granny said belonged to my real mother. A bride doll made to look like her when she was only a girl the same as me. See what's written on her bare foot." I held it so he could see, once I had her decently dressed again, but for stockings and shoes.
A Tatterton Original Portrait Doll
Issue, One.
"Put her stockins an shoes on, an hide her quick," whispered Tom. "Fanny's comin with Our Jane and Keith, an that's your face if ever I saw it. No good lettin Fanny ruin somethin so beautiful."
