Part 41 (2/2)

”Them things in the big trunk is all. They're all he's got, Miss Nannie.”

I didn't know what trunk or what things she was talking about till a few minutes later when I followed Mama and Miss Lida Belle into the far side room. There we found two trunks over against the back wall, one flat on top, the other humpbacked-both dusty.

Mama lifted the lid of the humpbacked one.

”It smells terrible, Mama! Just like Grandma Ming's big old trunk! That one with all them little white b.a.l.l.s in it.”

”'Course, hon. All trunks have to have camphor b.a.l.l.s in them, else the moths will get in.”

There wasn't a thing in the tray of the trunk except a handful of dry, shriveled-up roses. Down in the bottom, though, we saw a long white dress with lots of lace on it and a man's dark Sunday suit.

Miss Lida Belle caught her breath. ”Nannie! It's their wedding clothes! Is there a white s.h.i.+rt?”

”I'm afraid not.”

”This other trunk is slam empty, Nannie.”

Mama pulled out a wrinkled black coat and a pair of pants and handed them to Miss Lida Belle. Then she laid the wedding dress and the dead roses back in place.

”Move your fingers, Bandershanks. This heavy lid could cut them off.”

”Well, Wes's got two white s.h.i.+rts. I'll just go get one o'

them. He'll never miss it, but don't say nothin', Nannie.”

”You want Jodie to take you home in the buggy?”

”Naw, naw. I'll cut through the woods. It's not more'n a quarter of a mile.”

While Miss Lida Belle was gone, Mama set Miss Ophelia's ironing board up on the backs of two straight chairs and put two flatirons on the kitchen stove to heat. But she couldn't find Miss Ophelia's cake of beeswax.

Aunt Vic knew what to do. She just stepped out in the back yard and broke off a few little sprigs from a cedar tree.

”Cedar's just as good as wax when it comes to making your iron smooth,” she told me as she was stacking the p.r.i.c.kly green needles on the end of the ironing board.

Mama had the wrinkles pressed out of the suit by the time Miss Lida Belle got back with Mister Wes's white s.h.i.+rt and a celluloid collar that went with it.

”Lemme run the iron over these cuffs, Nannie. Looks like the last time I ironed this s.h.i.+rt, I must've just give it a lick and a promise. Here, I thought I'd better bring this too.”

Miss Lida Belle handed Mama a narrow string of a black tie.

Mama handed it to me.

”You can tote the tie, Bandershanks.”

We took the tie and the suit and the s.h.i.+rt and stiff collar up to the door of the front room and handed them to Papa. Mama didn't say so, but I knew Papa and Uncle Dan were going to dress up Mister Ward.

I knew why: you have to get dressed up in Sunday-go-to-meeting things when you die and go to Heaven. G.o.d's up there, and it wouldn't be very nice to go to see G.o.d with just weekday clothes on.

Up in the middle of the day, Mama and the other women put dinner on the kitchen table. Some of the folks who had been there all morning ate; some didn't.

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