14. Another Sunday Surprise

Dancing at The Orange Peel - Episode 14

Welcome to Episode 14 of Dancing at The Orange Peel, a 1960-70s serialized historical novel. Just getting started? Episode 1 | Full Episode Guide | Extra fun content in THE MAILBAG

Previously: Episode 13, Between Sisters. Sunday, April 7, 1968. Wedged between her warring cousins in the back of Uncle Nelson's station wagon after church, Libby witnesses the ugly aftermath of Connie's humiliation by the other Sunday School kids and her sister Pammy's determination to make it worse. Meanwhile, the adults' heated discussion about Nate's appearance at church reveals deeper family tensions that even Grandmamma's stern "unh uhs" can't fully quiet.

Episode 14: ANOTHER SUNDAY SURPRISE

Me, Connie, and Pammy jump out the back door as soon as Uncle Nelson stops the station wagon in my grandparents’ driveway. At the curb, Mr. Willie, dressed in his Sunday best, gets out of the white car. When he sees everyone, he nods at Grandmamma. He never talks much and usually keeps his distance, but he always offers a smile to us kids. Mama always gets her own special hello from him, though. “Miz Gwen.” He tips his hat and almost whispers. She returns the smile.

Mr. Willie worked for Granddaddy when they lived on the farm and has been with the family since Mama was little. He hoed, plowed, and picked, tending tobacco for Granddaddy and the vegetable garden for Grandmamma. When they moved to town, Grandmamma said she was keeping him. Mama tried to talk her out of it. Grandmamma claims he wants to stay, so they give him a place to live in their cellar. He helps with the beehives Granddaddy keeps on the empty lot between their house and Aunt June’s. Sometimes, he fixes stuff around the house. Mainly, he helps Grandmamma with her rose bushes, taking most of his orders from her.

He rounds the corner of the house toward the wooden door that leads down into his cellar room. I’ve only been down there once, going only so far as the steps, standing on them with Mama as Aunt June handed up Ball jars of canned beans Grandmamma stores down there. The jars were cold to the touch, so I figure the cellar must be damp. It was sure dark. Even in the daytime, Aunt June needed a kerosene lamp to see what was there. I’d have nightmares living in a place like that.

Granddaddy swings his arms. “Git on in the house.” It isn’t until he shoos us toward the side porch off the kitchen that we notice the blue Camaro parked on the grass ’round the back of the house.

“Uncle Dennis is here!” Connie cheers, running toward the kitchen door.

Uncle Dennis went off to art college nearly four years ago, and we only see him on holidays now. Mama and Grandmamma say he’s going to be famous someday. Grandmamma tells people he’s a mult-I-media artist, saying it slow, like the words hold some magic meaning we’ll catch if we listen carefully enough. Mama says that’s just a fancy way of saying he’s good at a bunch of different kinds of art. Grandmamma has a bottom dresser drawer full of things he’s made, even some crayon pictures he colored when he was little. There’s a couple of black and white drawings he calls “pen and ink” and some “abstracts,” too, but they just look like a bunch of swirls and doodles to me.

Around family, Granddaddy seems happy to have a son in college—the first person in the family. But when somebody asks where Uncle Dennis goes or what he studies, Granddaddy changes the subject. Grandmamma, all proud, explains, “He’s at the Southeastern College of Fine Arts in Atlanta.” She always adds, “The only reason he didn’t go to the New York School of Art and Design is the out-of-state tuition—a tad too rich for our blood. But he could’ve, other than that.” Everyone gives the same reply, sometimes sarcastic-like, other times a question: “Oh, he’s an artist!?” That makes Granddaddy wince.

Stopping on the porch step for Mama to catch up, I ask, “Uncle Dennis idn’t supposed to be home yet, is he?” She’s talked nonstop the last few days about Uncle Dennis coming home for Easter. But that’s still a whole week away.

Mama tucks her hand under Grandmamma’s elbow to help her up the two concrete steps to the back porch. “Ma, did you know Denny was coming?” They’re the only two who get away with calling him ‘Denny.’ “Why is he home already?”

The corners of Grandmamma’s mouth twitch up a little the way they do when she’s being playful with us. It’s sorta like Pammy’s Miss Cheevus face, but not mean at all. “He rolled in late last night.”

“Well!” Mama glances at Aunt June. “You must’ve known from picking them up this morning.”

Aunt June opens the screen door for us to pass through. “She swore me to secrecy for a surprise. And don’t get your panties in a bunch. He was still sleeping when I came, so I didn’t get to see him first.” Everybody knows Uncle Dennis is Mama’s favorite and vicy versy. Grandmamma clucks her tongue at Aunt June for saying the panties thing.

The second we’re inside, Mama bolts through the dining room to the living room, then doubles back down the hall, finally returning to the kitchen. “Well,” she huffs. “Guess I’ll have to drag his lazy butt outta bed.”

“Mama!” I can’t believe she said . . . butt.

Grandmamma can’t either. “Watch your mouth, Missy.” She swats Mama’s arm. “They’s young’uns around.”

“Why’s he here already?” Mama asks again.

Nobody answers. Even though he’s a grown-up gone off to college, Grandmamma and Granddaddy’s house is still sorta his home. Still, plain as day, Mama’s worried why he’s here when his spring break from school hasn’t even started yet.

We herd into the living room as the door from the front bedroom opens. Right off, Uncle Dennis throws both arms around Mama’s waist. “I thought I heard you hooligans drive up.” He hugs her tight and lifts so only her toes are on the floor.

“Denny!” She squeezes him back just as hard. Big ole bear hugs. It’s nice to see Mama getting those. Being around Uncle Dennis makes her happy. The rest of us cluster around, waiting our turn. “What are you doing here?” Mama asks. “What’s wrong?”

As soon as he lets Mama go, Pammy reaches up to his neck. You can tell she wants him to lift her up, too.

“Hello to you, too, Nin,” he says. When he was first learning to talk, Mama said “Gwen” always came out as “Nin,” and he stuck to calling her that ever since. “Can’t a fella come home whenever he wants to?” He bends to hug Pammy but doesn’t put his face to hers. It’s mean of me to think, but she did such a fine job of showing out in the car that I’m glad his bear hugs are just for Mama, not her.

“Spring break isn’t ’til next week.” Mama sounds nervous. “What’s up?”

I’m next in line and wait for his answer. He rests his hands on my shoulders and backs away a bit. “What’s this?” He raises an eyebrow at Grandmamma. “Is this a miniature Leona?” Everybody says how much I look like Grandmamma and Mama both, so it’s nothing new. I shrug.

Mama playfully whacks his shoulder. “Denny, answer me.”

He leans close. Only me and Mama can hear. “It’s okay, sis. We’ll talk later.” Before I know what’s happening, he has both arms around me. He lifts me and squeezes so hard my heart feels like it’ll bust out of my chest. Pammy’ll be furious. When he puts me down, he leaves a hand resting on my shoulder. “Little Leona, that’s what you are.” He pauses, glances sideways at Grandmamma but says to me. “Nah. You can’t be as mean as all that.” For a second, I’m not sure what to make of him talking bad about his mama to her face.

Suddenly, Grandmamma shuffles ’round behind him and swats, clearly faking she’s mad. “You ain’t too old for me to whoop you, boy.”

As he sways outta her way, he tells me, “I’ll call you Little Nin instead since you’re sweet like your mama.” Then he prances in a circle around us, pretending to run from Grandmamma. “Don’t beat me, you mean old woman!” By this time, we’re all belly-laughing. When she swings at his behind again, he spins and wraps her in a big ole hug.

“Glad you’re here, son.” Her eyes are hidden by Uncle Dennis’s long brown hair, but I think her lips quiver a little. “Glad you’re home.” She pats him, then backs away.

All this time, Granddaddy and Uncle Nelson have been quiet, standing in the doorway watching us. Granddaddy steps toward Uncle Dennis. “If you’re staying, you’ll have to get that head cut. Can’t go around looking like a filthy hippie.” He pauses. “Like your ma says, son, good to have you home. Family should be together.”

Before Uncle Dennis can answer, a car rumbles up outside. Pammy runs to the window. “Aunt Katie and Barry!”

Barry’s the fella Aunt Katie’s gonna marry in the summer. They weren’t at church, so I’m glad they’re here for Sunday dinner. Aunt Katie’s my favorite, other than Aunt Sivvy. She’s as surprised as the rest of us to see Uncle Dennis. “Look what the cat drug in,” she says, coming in the door. They hug, but not like bears. Then she turns to Barry. “Now you can finally meet the bully who chased all the boys away from me in high school.”

Barry extends a hand to Uncle Dennis. “Guess I need to thank you then, or else I couldn’t have her.” He laughs, but nobody else does. Grandaddy grunts and goes to the kitchen.

“Get outta them church dresses and shoes.” Aunt June waves us toward Grandmamma’s bedroom. “Now!” She claps her hands twice and points at the bedroom door.

Uncle Dennis elbows Mama and nods toward June. “Still barking orders, I see.”

We rush across the living room and Aunt June shuts the bedroom door behind us. Shorts would feel better, but Grandmamma won’t have it. They show too much leg, she says, and pants are for boys. So Mama and Aunt June bring our play dresses. At least mine’s cooler than that fancy Sunday dress, and I’m ready to get back outside.

Connie gasps and turns to hide herself. “Don’t open the door yet!”

All dramatic, Pammy crosses her arms over her flat chest. “Me too!”

I roll my eyes and open the door just enough to squeeze through, then close it quickly behind me. In the kitchen, Mama, her two sisters, and Uncle Dennis talk over each other ’til I can’t make out a word. It’s always loud like this at Granddaddy and Grandmamma’s when the whole family’s here. Only Grandmamma talks normal level. I wanna be outside where it’s quiet. Uncle Dennis sits on a stool blocking the kitchen doorway. Scooting it to let me by, he says all excited and like he’s seeing me for the first time: “Little Nin!”

My insides warm. Finally, I’ve got a nickname I love.

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