No Dark Valley Read Free Page B

toward the table and leaned down close. “Looking for some more of that cobbler,” he said, staring hard at the chicken pot pie.
    Aunt Beulah came back into the dining room carrying a brown plastic pitcher of tea. “No, Buford, that cobbler you’re wantin’ is down here,” she said loudly and pointed him to the far end of the table.
    â€œUncle Buford,” Celia whispered to Al. “I don’t think I would have ever recognized him. He’s shrunk.” She watched as Aunt Beulah set the pitcher down and helped him fill his plate with cobbler. “He’s Aunt Beulah’s twin brother. The only boy in the family. He used to be a preacher—a very long-winded one.”
    â€œSo there was a bull among the cows,” Al said. “He looks like he could be Colonel Sanders’ grandfather.” He stabbed at his plate with his fork. “Hey, what are these little brown things, anyway? They’re good.”
    â€œCrowder peas,” Celia said. “He’s married to Aunt Bernice, who used to dramatize the story of Elijah and Jezebel for all the neighbor kids. She made a very convincing Jezebel.” Uncle Buford headed slowly back to the living room, stopping briefly to peer over at Celia and Al, then emitting a soft belch and moving on.
    â€œHere, let me pour y’all some tea,” Aunt Beulah said. “Sorry we got to use these little foam cups. They don’t hardly hold enough to spit at.” As she poured, Celia saw that her hands still shook the way they always had.
    â€œOh, now, see there, I’ve gone and dribbled some on your plate,” Aunt Beulah said. Before moving away, she leaned in close to Celia and spoke confidingly, her rhinestone pendant dangling near Celia’s chin. “Celia, hon, you don’t have to rush, but I do want you and Al to come with me to the funeral parlor when you’re done. I asked them to leave the casket open for a little bit before the funeral so you could see her if you got here in time. She looks so sweet. My, they did such a good job on her.”
    Aunt Beulah left with the pitcher of tea. “A ‘good job’?” Al said. “Celia, these people are everything you said and more.” He lifted a spoonful of stewed apples and examined them appreciatively. “But they can sure cook.” He chewed for a moment, then said, “Hey, you don’t have to go through with this, you know. We can leave. We can think up some excuse to tell them and go back home. Or don’t tell them anything—just get in the car and leave. They can have the funeral without you. Nobody can make you stay.”
    Celia shook her head. “I’ve come this far, I might as well finish it.” But it was more than that, though she knew Al would laugh if she told him about it. The truth was, she had made a promise to her grandmother years ago. Not that she wasn’t above breaking a promise. She had done that often enough. But this one was different. It was the kind that would rise up to haunt you if you didn’t keep it.
    It was the last time she had seen her grandmother, actually. Fourteen years ago this spring. Grandmother had ridden a Trailways bus all the way up to Blackrock to attend Celia’s college graduation. Celia had tried to discourage her, but she had her mind made up. “Everybody needs family at their graduation,” she had said flatly. “I didn’t pay for your education. Your daddy’s money did that, along with your granddaddy Coleman’s, but I still feel like I had a part in it.” And then, as if Celia didn’t already know what she meant, she went on to explain. “I prayed for you every single day, Celie.”
    It had been more than a little bother, she recalled, working out the details—having to borrow a friend’s car to pick her grandmother up at the bus station, take her to a motel near the campus, get her to the graduation