Chapter Twenty-four: Welcome Home

Jim was kind enough to drive Greg, Blue Eyes, and me to the airport. Greg spent the ride trying his best to persuade Blue Eyes to stay in Princeton.

"Don't you have patients to heal, biped?" he asked. "Or, at the very least, shouldn't you keep an eye on your daughter?"

"Greg," I snapped. "Stop it."

"Oh, Cissy, don't tell me you actually want him to come along?"

Blue Eyes glared at Greg. "What's wrong, Greg? Do you southerners deep fry and eat Yankees?"

"Always that possibility, biped."

I turned to B.E. and whispered, "You really don't need to go, you know. I'll only stay long enough to get through the funeral. I'll be fine." I smiled my best, fake smile.

"Tiger, is there a reason you don't want me to come?"

"The funeral will be a circus. Loons from every county. You might be bored."

"Or," he interjected, "I might be entertained."

I cringed.

My father's sister, Mary Dell, met our plane in Huntsville. Mary Dell was two years older than Daddy, a crystallographer for NASA, and a lesbian with a thirty-year-old comic book store owner as her live-in. I had tried to prepare Blue Eyes, but he didn't take me seriously.

Mary Dell hugged me and Greg. She stepped back to observe Blue Eyes.

"Mary Dell, this is my, well, my friend, Dr. Gregory House. And this is my aunt, Mary Dell Jeffrey," I nervously introduced them.

Greg leaned back in his wheelchair and grinned mischievously.

"Welcome to Alabama, Gregory," Mary Dell said politely as she extended a firm hand. Blue Eyes reluctantly shook it. "Audra," she said, turning to me, "I'm so sorry about your ordeal with your mother. Did you bring the baby?"

Oh, sh!t. "She's not big enough or stable enough to leave the NICU yet."

"Gregory," Mary Dell directed, "if you and Greg could commandeer the bags, I'll pull up my car. Walk with me, Audra."

I turned to watch the two cripples struggling at the luggage carousel; in Mary Dell's world, men did the hard labor regardless of their talents. I winked at Blue Eyes as I followed my aunt outside to her 2007 Lexus LX470.

"New car?" I asked.

"We needed something to haul all of Dinah's stuff around. We thought we'd eat supper at our house tonight. Your dad will meet us there," she prattled as she unlocked the vehicle and shifted into drive.

"But we're staying at Daddy's, right?"

"Does your father know you've brought a gentleman home with you?" she quizzed me.

I felt the familiar uncomfortable tensing of my colon. "He didn't care to have much conversation with me. Is there a problem?"

"Honey, I'm fine with anything you do. But you know how your dad is." Her words hung ominously in the air as she stopped the car outside the flight terminal.

The men had found a porter to assist them. After they loaded the SUV, Greg grabbed Blue Eyes' arm and motioned for him to take the backseat with him, leaving me to ride shotgun. For mid January, it was cold and dry with gray, low lying clouds. There was no snow to hide the red clay that comprised the cotton fields. Mary Dell drove us through the rural area and into the city of Huntsville; she had a sprawling home on Monsanto Mountain.

"Dinah is bringing home barbecue for supper. Your friend does eat pork?" Mary Dell asked during the drive.

"He eats everything," I replied.

"Danny will come by when he finishes at the funeral home and has Imogene taken care of. If everything is copacetic with him, then you can stay at his house, or one of you might want to stay with us."

"By 'one of you,' do you mean Blue Eyes?" I asked her quietly.

She nodded. "How quaint. You have a nickname for him."

"What are the arrangements? For Mother?"

"Visitation tomorrow night at Mason's Funeral Home, six till eight. Graveside services Sunday at one. Reverend Miller is officiating."

"Did Dad run an obituary?"

"Of course. Imogene already had everything planned out. Picked out her own casket. Pewter. She wanted only white flowers at the visitation, and the casket covered in white lilies at the graveside. She was always very particular."

"Open casket?"

Mary Dell barely smiled. "Not for your mother. She didn't want gawkers. She had a portrait made from one of her wedding photos; Danny had it enlarged and framed for display."

The cramping in my colon intensified.

My aunt parked her car in the circular driveway before the front doors. While Blue Eyes helped Greg unload his wheelchair, I grabbed two of the bags. Dinah, with her short, black hair and clean, pointed face, bounded down past me and gathered up the remaining luggage, jostling Greg familiarly.

"Hey, Greg. 'Bout time you came back down here. The pool table awaits," she gaily called. She nodded at Blue Eyes, her hands full. "Hi. I'm Dinah Blizzard."

Blue Eyes observed her perky demeanor and her perky young body. "I'm Greg House."

"Cool. Two Gregs. Should be confusing. I hope you shoot pool, too, Greg House," Dinah chirped as she easily swung the three bags into the house.

Blue Eyes leaned over to me and said, "Blizzard?"

I shrugged.

Greg muttered, "Damned steps," and wheeled around the side of the house to the kitchen door.

I gestured to the front of the house. "Dinah is Mary Dell's significant other."

"Your aunt is what, in her mid-sixties? And she can score a chick like that? Sweet."

"Oh, he!!," I muttered and walked ahead of him into the house.

Mary Dell was opening containers of barbecue pork and cole slaw in the expansive kitchen while Dinah bounced around, grabbing bags of buns and chips, glasses and bottles of soda. Greg rolled around Dinah, trying to trip her.

"Gregory Daniel Jeffrey," Dinah finally huffed in her exasperation, "if you don't get out of my way I'm going to put you up on blocks."

"Quit threatening the crip, and tell me what new comics you have," Greg complained. He rolled over to the table.

Blue Eyes took the buns and the chips from Dinah. He leaned close to her ear. "You really a dyke – with that ass?"

Dinah laughed. "Oh, Cissy, you found a clever one."

Mary Dell started assembling the sandwiches: bun, pork, cole slaw, hot sauce, top of the bun. As fast as she made them, she passed them to the plates. "Have a seat, Gregory. I have beer, wine, and hard liquor in the pantry. What can I get you?"

Greg rolled to the refrigerator. "Beer okay, b.p.?"

"Sure," Blue Eyes answered, taking the top off his sandwich and staring. He motioned to me. "Who puts cole slaw on a pork sandwich? And what kind of slaw is this – where's the dressing?"

I laughed. "The slaw is nothing but cabbage with a sugar and vinegar dressing. Just eat it the way Mary Dell made it. Go on. It's good."

Greg handed him a beer. "If you don't eat it, b.p., I will."

B.E. shrugged and took a bite, chewing gamely. I put a handful of chips on his plate and turned to see what else was needed. Mary Dell was uncorking a bottle of Riesling.

"I'll take a glass when I get back. Where did you put my bag, Dinah?"

She motioned towards the guest room. I slipped away to express milk for Zelda. I left the door cracked and listened to the badinage between the two men and the two women. Dinah had Greg and Blue Eyes hypnotized with the list of new comics and the collectible comics she had. I could picture money flying out of B.E.'s bank account. I smiled as I pumped out the milk.

When I slipped the container of breast milk into the refrigerator to freeze later, Mary Dell wrinkled her nose in a distasteful way.

"That's right, Mary Dell," I said. "Don't use the breast milk to whiten your coffee."

"Thanks for the warning, dear," she replied sarcastically.

I noticed the crusts from at least two buns on B.E.'s plate. "Like that barbecue, did you?" I asked as I sat beside him and pulled a sandwich toward me.

"That cole slaw is an acquired taste. Don't you people have mayonnaise down here? You know, the white stuff you spread on sandwiches and mix with herbs to create salad dressings?"

"Mayonnaise," Greg said, hitting his forehead with his palm. "Why didn't I think of mixing cabbage with mayonnaise? That sounds just yummy."

Dinah, laughing, brought me a glass of wine. "Okay, Cissy, I saw the breast milk. Does that mean there's really a baby, somewhere?"

I nodded, my mouth full of hickory-smoked pork.

"Miniature baby," Blue Eyes said while sipping on his third beer.

Mary Dell was picking at a serving of the pork with her fingers and turned her trained gaze on Dinah, who was eying me enviously.

"How exciting, having your own daughter to raise and f#ck up," she sighed.

"Dinah's hearing her biological clock," Mary Dell said.

"Yeah, I can't convince Mary Dell to let me have a baby," Dinah complained.

Blue Eyes leaned across the table to get Dinah's attention. "Don't let me shock you, but Mary Dell's not the one who can get you pregnant."

"Are you offering to help her out?" I asked him.

He stretched back in his chair, extended his arms, and said, "Well . . . "

I turned to Dinah. "He's just interested in the challenge of converting you from the all girls' team."

"I thought he was hoping Mary Dell would join in for a threesome," Greg interjected.

Dinah slapped Greg on the arm. "Let's leave the dishes till later and shoot some pool." She looked at Blue Eyes. "You want to play, too, Greg House?"

Blue Eyes looked to me for assistance.

"Hey, I don't know if you're good enough to play with the big dogs."

He took my words as a challenge. "Dinah," he said, "lead the way."

They headed to a rec room at the back of the house. I picked up my sandwich and wine. "Come on, Mary Dell. Let's go watch."

Mary Dell guiltily abandoned the dishes, bringing her own wine glass and the half empty bottle of wine with her. When we entered the game room, I saw Dinah holding out her own pool cue for Blue Eyes to admire. The end of her cue was decorated with the same flames as Blue Eyes' cane.

I smiled and whispered to B.E., "Never shoot pool with a woman with flames on her cue."

Dinah laughed freely. "And don't forget my name," she chortled as she rolled it in her hands and showed her name, Dinah, painted in yellow down the shaft.

"Blue Eyes, be very afraid," I warned.

Blue Eyes was fascinated with Dinah's pool cue. He touched it reverently. "Do you think I could get my name painted like that on my cane?" he asked the young woman.

"Sure, man. I can hook you up," Dinah answered.

Our laughter was interrupted by Daddy's entrance. He was pale and sad. He greeted everyone and waited while I introduced him to Blue Eyes, shaking B.E.'s hand grimly but politely. Then he handed an envelope to me.

"A huge pot of Easter lilies came to the funeral home. From Greg's old doctor. It had this note for you," he explained.

My hands began to tremble as I opened it.

"My old doctor?" Greg asked. "Dr. Michaels?"

Blue Eyes moved to stand behind me as I unfolded the card:

"Dear Audra,

I'm sorry for your loss. I hope we'll be able to meet up with each other during the time you'll be home. I'd love to see you. Again.

Aaron."

B.E. took the note out of my hands and slipped it into his shirt pocked. He squeezed my waist.

"What's wrong, Cissy?" Greg asked. "The old doc asking you out again?"

The fear and dread of seeing Aaron, my rapist, left me in a cold sweat. I pushed the possibilities to the back of my mind and concentrated on my father.

"Do you want a barbecue sandwich?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "I'm not hungry. But, Audra, I will need your help tomorrow. Your mother's sisters and sister-in-law are holding a reception at our house before the visitation. I was hoping you'd come and supervise."

I took my father's hand. "I'll do anything I can to help, Daddy. We were discussing where each of us would spend the night . . ."

He turned his icy, gray stare on Blue Eyes. "Dr. House, I won't pretend to understand, much less condone, your relationship with my daughter; however, I haven't the time nor the energy to enter a debate with you. I would like for Audra to stay at her home, and if that means you'll be staying with her, then I hope you will honor me enough to keep things as civil and respectful as possible."

The room was deafening in its silence. My father was not one to say much, and he was definitely not a speech maker; I could only pray Blue Eyes would somehow recognize Daddy's speech for the olive branch it was. I could feel B.E.'s lean physique pressed into my back, his hand still resting on my waist. I couldn't feel his breaths and wondered if he was holding them like the rest of us.

Finally, he moved slightly and spoke. "I'm aware this is a difficult time for you, Dan, but my concern is Audra. I don't want to make things more unpleasant for you, but I do intend to stay with her."

I knew his voiced devotion to me stemmed solely from the implied threat of Aaron's, but I didn't really care. I wasn't accustomed to having anyone, especially a male, express loyalty or protectiveness towards me. I leaned back into him, resting my shoulders against his chest.

Daddy nodded. "I know it's late. I'm going to head on back to Mooresville. Do you want to ride with me?"

Mary Dell stepped forward. "Dan, Dinah and I thought we'd let the kids borrow the SUV while they're here. They can follow you home."

Blue Eyes said, "Thanks, Mary Dell. Greg, why don't you ride with your father, and Audra and I will meet you there?"

Greg opened his mouth to object, but I caught his eye and shook my head, so he said, "Good idea, b.p. Don't you want to grab some sandwiches before we leave, Dad?"

Daddy declined the food; he and Greg loaded into Greg's bags into Daddy's truck and took off. Blue Eyes and I gathered our luggage and stowed it in her SUV.

"Are you sure you can spare your car?" I asked Mary Dell.

"Of course, Audra. We have Dinah's Corolla and the jeep if we need a spare vehicle. Honey, I know your dad can be difficult, but he's having a hard time dealing with Imogene's death. Try to be patient with him."

Blue Eyes and I thanked Mary Dell and Dinah. We pointed the SUV down the mountain and towards Mooresville. B. E. was silent until we were heading through the town. "This Aaron," he finally started, "is he likely to show up at the visitation or the funeral?"

I turned my head and stared out the window. "How can I predict what he will do? I never would have thought he'd rape me."

"What do you want to do? Call the police?"

"No," I said. "I just want to get through these two days and head back to Princeton and Zelda. Hopefully, he won't show up."

"What does he look like?"

I kept my head turned away from B.E. "Average height and weight, dark hair with some gray, green eyes. No facial hair when I knew him."

"If he shows up, you'll let me know immediately, right?"

"Of course. But I don't think he has the balls to confront me in person. I think, or I hope, he'll be happy just to intimidate by flowers."

Blue Eyes nodded in agreement, but I could feel the tension radiating from him. I instructed Blue Eyes to park the SUV in the driveway of my childhood home. The colonial, white clapboard house was bright with its indoor lights blazing.

"This ain't no damn trailer park," Blue Eyes said.

"Don't worry, puddin', I'll take you to a trailer park," I laughed.

Greg was rolling around in the living room hunting for liquor when we entered. "Cissy," he called, "see if Dad's got any brandy hidden over the wet bar."

"Where is Dad?" I asked as I reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Germain-Robin XO. "Oooh, paydirt," I murmured. I lifted three snifters from the rack of cocktail glasses and poured healthy servings of cognac into each. Greg was the first to take a glass and sample it.

"Excellent," Greg raved.

Blue Eyes sat in one of the overstuffed chairs and took the cognac I proffered. Daddy walked in from the kitchen and handed me a section of the newspaper.

"Her obituary is in this section," he told me solemnly. "I'm going on to bed. Dr. House, the spare rooms are upstairs; I hope that won't be too much of an inconvenience for you."

"Thank you, Dan. I'll be fine," B.E. answered.

I kissed Daddy on the cheek and hugged him as he walked down the hall to his room. I took my cognac and the newspaper and sat on the floor at B.E.'s feet.

"What are you looking for?" B.E. asked when he saw me scanning the paper.

"I want to read her obit," I told him. I found it and read it word-for-word. I sighed and looked up at Blue Eyes. "For whatever reason, it doesn't mention Zelda. That's a good thing."

Greg rolled over to us. "Gee, Cissy, I would think you'd be really pissed your daughter was left out. We can have it corrected in tomorrow's paper if you want."

"No. Leave it this way," Blue Eyes said brusquely.

"Mother would have preferred no one know she had an illegitimate granddaughter," I told Greg, trying to allay his curiosity.

Blue Eyes went to the wet bar and poured himself more cognac. He then observed the numerous family pictures on the walls.

"Is this you?" he asked me. "The little girl with the platinum hair?"

"Yeah, Blue Eyes, my hair was white when I was young. My cousins used to call me a 'cotton picker' because it was so light."

"Will I get to meet these cousins?" he asked.

Greg snorted. "Mother's whole family will be here tomorrow before the visitation. The redneck brigade en masse. Have you warned the biped?"

I laughed.

Blue Eyes stopped his tour around the room. "What? Will I be facing sawed-off shotguns?"

"More like guys with wads of chewing tobacco in their cheeks," I answered, "and women with hair dyed colors never found in nature."

"Ahhh, a costume party," Blue Eyes smiled.

"Excellent description," Greg agreed. "A southern wake is nothing more than a chance to dress up, eat, and diss the dead."