Chapter 28

Terri’s turn:

“Combat wombat,” I said a while back, looking at Derek’s sketch. “Little, blocky-looking thing.”

“It’s not as mobile as I want it to be,” he said. “We just tossed this one together to play mobility tricks with on the paintball field.”

Paintball was our cheap and local alternative to sending anything military off to an official testing ground, and frankly, I’m thinking that we’ve polluted the waters. All the regular paintballers KNOW to be especially wary when they see one or more – “Y’all show up in a pod,” one of them said – of us are at the biggest paintball field around the area.

Still, this one’s almost as fun as the centipede. We’ve spent a little time working on it.

The ‘pede can hide under almost anything, but this thing will take off running – at its enemy, away from its enemy, whatever, and randomly drop on its ‘belly and roll sideways, then scuttle off. Hard to track. The paintballers gripe because they waste a lot of shots trying to ‘kill’ it.

But I’m having trouble concentrating on work. Or anything else. Next week I turn fourteen. Everybody knows what that means, especially me and Jerry.

A week. And we’re not animals. It’s just a happy coincidence that my birthday’s on a Saturday.

We have the pavilion lined up. Cindy’s taking Lenya to Louisiana to bring those people here. Dan’s taking Lotte to his old home airport to bring Judge Charley and Mizz Helen.

Mandy’s turn: Big day today. Dad’s bringing me to the airfield. Cindy’s already there.

Things just make sense. I know better than to believe it’s always that way, but somewhere somebody’s prayers worked.

Mom crashing – big down ... Except Mom was sliding into that ever since I was old enough to understand. I tried to get her to stop the drugs and the guys who came with them ... It was easier for her to keep them and leave me with Grandma.

And then Grandma cratered.

I thought life was over.

Life’s not over. Mom was inordinately stupid not to be with the guy I met, the man SHE named as my biological father.

Believe me, I saw some the others. I’m lucky I don’t have extra fingers or something. My DAD is Bill Carmody. Also dad to Elise and Willie. Husband (yeah ... a guy who MARRIES a woman to have kids with her) to a woman worthy of the title ‘Mom’, Donna, who, according to my new older sister, had her own issues but grew past them.

So I’m in this new home, but Grandma’s in a ‘home’ too ... at first comatose, then just paralyzed, now recovering.

Why? Because Grandma said, “Mandy, I can take you to church. But going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than goin’ in a garage makes you a car. You’re the one that decides to believe. Don’t make you perfect. Makes you a believer.” And “Prayer, Mandy. For your mom. Sometimes the answer’s not what you want, but you pray because you believe.”

So I prayed.

And when I started running around with my new older sister, who else should I ask? Cindy, right?!?

“I saw you goin’ to church, Cin,” I said. “You believe?”

“All that and then some, Mandy,” she said.

“Could I get YOU to pray with me?”

“What’re we prayin’ for?” She asked. “That’s for me. HE knows...”

“Grandma ... Cindy, she’s a good person ... It’s not time yet ... She needs to see a happier ending than that HOME.”

“I know...”

“No, Cindy ... Just calling it a ‘home’, that’s a travesty. It’s the OPPOSITE of a home...”

“So we’ll pray. And we’ll get good people to pray also...”

Which is really kinda strange because we walked into this Indian restaurant and Cindy got greeted like family. Introduced me to this kindly old sari-wrapped lady with a dot on her forehead.

“This is MY Grandma Desai,” Cindy said. “She adopted me. Now she’s got you...”

“MY American family,” Grandma Desai said.

We talked for a little while drank freshly brewed chai. “You’ll taste something like this at a lot of houses,” Cindy said. “Grandma Desai’s part of our great big family and she brings us HER heritage.”

And before we left, Cindy asked Grandma Desai to bring the subject of Grandma up in front of this strange little shrine in the corner of the restaurant. Shiva.

I need to be very careful about how to use power like that because a little rip in the fabric of time and space is why I’m at the airfield with Dad, Cindy’s standing beside HER airplane, and Grandma’s coming home today.

This is nuts. Nobody I ever knew anywhere else did things like this. First, it’s almost two hundred miles from my new home in Auburn to the home where Grandma’s staying.

Normal people drive. Three, maybe four hours, and we’d be there.

We don’t drive. Cindy’s magic carpet is sitting there glistening in the sun, all aluminum and composite, five million dollars, she says. And we’re gonna fly.

Twice a week since the first visit I’ve been down to see Grandma. Dad’s been there half the time, one time bringing Mom and the kids. Cindy’s brought me down there the other times. They do things crazy. We land at this airport, a guy shows up with a rental car, we do our visit, give the rental car back, then fly home.

Today it’s different. We’re bringing Grandma back with us. I’ve visited the new facility that’s going to keep her for a while.

A while?

“Mom,” I said to my new mom, “I never expected this. I mean...”

“Mandy, darlin’, this ain’t nothin’. We made a little change to the houseplans, that’s all. People do this. If I still had a mom, Bill’d be doing this for her. We’re just adding her a room ‘n’ stuff.”

So when the new house is finished, if Grandma’s health is back to where she can get around, she’s coming HOME. Until then, she’ll be HERE.

We showed up at the airfield, me and Dad, right ahead of Mizz Lee. Mizz Lee’s about the same age as Grandma. She’s ‘Gramma’ to Dana and ‘revered teacher’ to the Munchkins – US – and just about everybody else.

“Hello, Bill. Hello Mandy,” she said.

“Mornin’, Mizz Lee,” Bill said. “‘Preciate you taking time.”

“Glad to do it, Bill. I’ve been wanting a ride in Cindy’s magic carpet,” Mizz Lee replied.

“Mizz Lee, all you had to do is say something,” Cindy said, walking up. “Any time ... We seldom fly with all the seats full. And you’re perfectly welcome to sit upf front. Dana does...”

Mizz Lee chuckled. “I am not that adventurous...”

Cindy pressed a little. “Today’s your day. Short flight. Mandy won’t mind...”

“I won’t, Mizz Lee...” I said.

“Are you certain, Mandy?”

“I have plenty of time in that seat. Please, ma’am. Your turn.”

“Come sit in the GOOD seat,” Cindy giggled.

Mizz Lee’s a lady, above it all. She’s a teacher and a grandmother, and has a sense of presence that I noticed the first time I ever met her. I’m good with that. I need teachers in my life and she has that aura. Today, though, she was transformed into ‘happy little girl’ shedding seventy years.

I know Cindy saw it. Me? It’s part of the magic of this place. I mean, I’m going along pretty good and all of a sudden - POOM! – here’s a little flash of ‘better’.

“I am completely useless in this seat, Cindy,” Mizz Lee said.

“First, I’m a rated pilot and this plane’s rated for single pilot. Second, it’s a short flight. And third, Mizz Lee, you’ve never been completely useless. If you wish to read a checklist, you can do that for me.”

“Tell me what to do.”

I’ve been in that seat. With the electronic suite, you can actually pull up checklists. Or ... Cindy handed her a little binder with laminated, tabbed pages.

“We can start with ‘Before starting engine.’”

I know from personal experiences with Cindy in this plane that we can get off the ground faster. Sometimes, though, it’s not about speed. “There are many criteria to define ‘optimum’ but first you need to know your goal” is how another mentor, the pTerridactyl, states it.

Here, the fastest time isn’t the goal. A happy Mizz Lee is.

Forty-eight minutes from the time our wheels left the ground in Auburn to touchdown in Gulf Shores. Mizz Lee’s smile was epic.

We had time to get off the plane before a rental van showed up.

“I’m going to stay with the plane,” Cindy said. “Lemme see if I can get the FBO to plug in an APU so we’ll stay cool.”

Happiness is picking up Grandma to bring her home. Sadness is that in the few trips we’ve made, I recognize faces of a few of the other occupants and I doubt they have somebody showing up as regularly as we did. Grandma says I’m soft-hearted. I guess I am.

The staff have packed up a suit case and a couple of boxes with Grandma’s personal stuff. \

“Mister Cowan at the old apartment has my household stuff in storage,” Grandma told us. “I don;’t know how we’ll get it, but I owe him something for holding onto it.”

“You give Donna the number,” Bill told Grandma. “She’ll get it taken care of.”

“New mom,” I told Grandma. “She does things.”

“Mizz Lee,” Grandma said, “I dearly appreciate you coming down with them, but really ... I’m not that delicate.”

“Connie, think nothing of it. The trip does me good. Helping my friends, old and new, does me wonders. Mandy is one of my students. You’re her family. Our group expands.”

“You’re a teacher?” Grandma asked.

“Yes. Retired. Taught English all my life...”

“And yet Mandy is your student?”

“There are reasons to come back, Connie. Mandy’s one of several. You will meet them all, if you wish...”

We wheeled Grandma out to the van after Dad signed some papers. He and I assisted Grandma into one of the seats. Mizz Lee sat beside her. Dad and I loaded her suitcase and the boxes.

As we pulled away, she sighed, “You know, I wasn’t conscious of coming here. There were times, once I was lucid, that I didn’t think I’d see the outside.”

“You said you thought you were up to flying, Grandma. You’re getting ready to see a couple of hundred miles of Alabama from a mile up.”

“You told me there was room ... I flew with a friend many years ago. It was a very small plane.”

“There is, Grandma,” I said.

“Connie, it’s ridiculous luxury,” Mizz Lee said. “Cindy’s our pilot today.”

“Your half-sister?”

“Yes, Grandma. You’ve met ‘er. She’s waiting for us at the plane.”

Cindy was indeed waiting. I saw a cart with a cable at the tail of the aircraft. Cindy was at the door, descending when we drove up.

“I kept it cooled down, Mizz Connie,” she said. “We all appreciate a cool spot. Mister Bill and I will help you up the steps.”

“That’s all the steps, Cindy?”

“Yes ma’am. And we’ll help you...”

“Then I will let you help me out of this...”

She’s acting less frail than last week, I observe. That’s a good thing. Cindy taking her hand as she stepped gingerly up, Bill at her elbow, she entered.

“Welcome to my magic carpet,” Cindy said to her. “This first seat is yours.”