Wrapped In Rain

by Charles Martin

“Child,” she said placing her head to mine and her callused fingers on my cheek, “you can whip it and beat it senseless, you can drag it through the streets and spit on it, you can even dangle it from a tree, drive spikes through it, and drain the last breath from it, but in the end, no matter what you do, and no matter how hard you to try to kill it, love wins.”

We stood in silence, and yet I heard a familiar voice saying, Listen here, child, that’s God’s little girl, baggage and all, so don’t go judging the cover. He doesn’t care what she looks like. He’ll take her and us any way he can get us. Just like the woman at the well. Best you switch lenses and start seeing her that way too.

“Down here,” she said with a sweet Southern smile and pointing straight down through the table, “iced tea is not a drink. It’s not even a refreshment. And it’s certainly not something that causes you to fall backwards into a pool.” Dixie looked around and whispered in Rocco’s direction, “It’s a religion.” She stood up, shrugged her shoulders, and said, “And you either practice or you don’t. Down here, there’s no such thing as ‘unswate tay.’ That’s a myth propagated by people who don’t come from ’round here. You can ask for it, but one of us might give you a funny look before we write you off as nothing but a couple of Yankees. Down here,” she said, pointing again with both index fingers, “tea comes one way. ‘Swate.’” She eyed Rocco again and gave a nudge. “Like us.”

Without batting an eye, Dixie looked over each shoulder, leaned on the table, and whispered as if telling a well-kept secret, “It’s really pretty simple. Years ago, somewhere down here, some corn farmer lost all his teeth and with them the ability to eat corn. So he just dried the corn, ground it into bits, boiled it into a soft, gummable mash, sprinkled it with salt and pepper, stirred in two table-spoons of butter, and called that ‘grits.’ Minus butter, it’s actually quite healthy. Now, truth is, there’s nothing wrong with grits. They won’t hurt you. And if you don’t like them, that’s fine with most Southerners. Just means more for us.” She smiled and gently bumped Rocco in the shoulder with her hip. She wrinkled her nose, waved her hand across the table, and said, “But, honey, don’t turn your nose up before you’ve had a plate. Most of us are eating sushi now and liking it, so anything’s possible.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Dixie said as she set the spoon in front of Rocco. “Coffee—which often accompanies grits and precedes tea—is not brewed; it’s percolated. And you don’t ‘make coffee,’ you ‘put some on.’ Most folks down here don’t really get into cappuccino, but with a Starbucks on every corner, a few of us are moving into lattes.” Dixie turned, took a step, stopped, and turned again. “Oh, and ‘dinner’ is what you ate at noon. This is ‘supper.’”

In all my life, I had never seen someone so small walk so tall as she did there and then. Miss Ella was just barely five feet tall, but that day, she stood taller than Rex.

If Waverly was our prison, the barn was our empty tomb. And every time we flung open the doors, we rolled away the stone.

“She shook her head, her eyes tired, and said, ‘What’s been done to me ain’t nothing when compared to what happened in three hours on a single Friday afternoon.’”

“Was your dad real mean?” “Well”—I looked for a way to soften it—“let’s just say he really licked the red off my lollipop.” Jase thought for a minute and then said with confidence, “Unca Tuck, I’m just like you.” “Oh yeah, partner, how’s that?” “My daddy hit me too.”

“Miss Ella used to tell Mutt and me that each day has enough trouble of its own and that we shouldn’t worry about that day until it arrives. So right now, let’s just worry about today. Tomorrow, we’ll worry about tomorrow.”

Miss Ella? Yes, child? I’m on some shaky ground here. How so? I don’t quite know how to say this . . . What, you mean that boy? I thought for a moment. Yes. What makes you better than me? What do you mean? Tucker, you weren’t mine, and I took care of you. I never quite thought of it like that. And, Tucker, no mother ever loved a child the way I love you. But I don’t know what to do with a boy like that. When I took you to the movies, when did I give you your ticket? When we got to the counter and the guy said,“Tickets, please.” Child, the Lord gives you what you need, when you need it.

“You know, you could make the upper echelon. You’re almost there now.” Doc firmly believed that I’d make a great photographer one day. “And when I get there, where will that be?” “At the top, Tucker.” “The top of what? Doc, there’s only room for one man on top of Everest. It’s cold, lonely, and it kills a lot of the people who climb it. My father showed me that.”

Forgive men and your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you don’t, you’re the one who will suffer.

“That rock casket made an impression on me. Why?” He paused and then whispered, “Because, like Him, I walked out.”

‘Child, I didn’t raise you to live life dragging a casket. You don’t need an anchor; you need a rudder.’ She poked me in the chest—her arthritis had pretty well gnarled her fingers—and said, ‘Cut it loose. Bury it. It’s just dead weight. You can’t rake the rain, box up the sunshine, or plow the clouds, but you can love. And this’—she tapped the ring on the chain—‘will remind you that love is possible. George gave it to me, and now I’m giving it to you.’

“Weak as she was, she lifted my chin with her finger and said, ‘Tucker, you won’t understand this until you have a boy of your own, but listen close. The sins of the father are carried down to the son. There’s nothing you can do to stop what’s passed to you. You are going to wrestle with it until the day you die, whether you like it or not. The only choice is whether or not you pass them to your son. Stopping it is a choice you make.’

Tucker? What could you possibly want right now? To bring something to your attention. I think I’ve had enough brought to my attention in the last twenty-four hours. You ever heard of not piling on? Child, I just want you to remember one thing. Yes ma’am? I spent half my life taking care of two bastard children.

On the other hand, I didn’t have to ask Miss Ella if she loved me. I knew. She told me every day but seldom used words. From the age of five, Miss Ella taught me how to spell love, and I’ve never forgotten it. It’s spelled T-I-M-E.

What’s wrong, Tucker? “Thirty-three years.” Child, he’d rather you shout in anger than say nothing at all. Above me, the pigeons cooed, flapped, and fluttered about. I sniffed the air for the smell of Cornhuskers and tried to remember the words. “Miss Ella, I don’t know where to start. Everything is upside down and has been for a long time. Sometimes I look at Jase and I hurt because I used to be just like him: so curious, completely trusting, full of wonder, so honest, so transparent, eager to forgive, quick to laugh, and willing to risk his heart on love—even the love of a father.” What happened? “Rex happened.” Then maybe it’s time you start with Rex. “What is that supposed to mean?” If therefore you are presenting your offering at the altar, and there remember that your brother has sinned against you, then leave your offering and go your way. First, be reconciled to your brother, and then come and present your offering. “I’m not sure I understand.” Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. “How does that relate to me?” You’ve always had a Father, Tucker.

I stood, leaned against the window, and let Rex watch my back. “You are the root of most everything evil in me.” I leaned the bat in the corner of the room and stood over Rex. “The sins of the father stop here . . . and my love begins.”

I fingered the grooves in the wood. “Looking back on it, I guess You had more to do with the Volvo getting stuck than I first gave You credit for. Whatever You did, or are doing, please don’t stop. All of us, Mutt included, need a safe place, and it’s a lot safer when You’re watching over. We had thirty-three years of misery, bitterness, and hell, but You were right. Whipped, battered, and beaten, love broke through the rocks. I don’t know how, but it did. I guess that’s the mystery of it all.”

Tucker? Yes ma’am. Don’t you forget about Mama Ella. You going somewhere? Think it’s time I leave you be. Katie’s not going to like that very much. She was hoping you’d be here today. Just Katie? You know better than that. Good, already bought my hat. Figures. Good thing we’re not getting on an elevator. Don’t you sass me. Mama Ella, you are a piece of work. How’s your tummy feeling? Kind of hurts. What kind? The growing kind. Like I’m making room and adding people. I told you. You told me a lot of things. You sassing me? No ma’am, just letting you know that I was listening. Tucker? I didn’t answer. I knew what she wanted. Tucker Rain? That got my attention, and for a moment I could smell the hint of Cornhuskers. Yes ma’am? Child, in the end . . . love wins. Always does. Always will. Yes ma’am.