ALL ACCESS

Chapter 23

James' family asked a ton of questions that first day, but two direct questions from ninety-three year old Great Aunt Mimmi on whether I was a gold digger and whether I loved James were as point blank as they came. The conversations stopped and all heads turned in my direction as I answered Mimmi truthfully, I was not a gold digger. And yes, I loved James. It made everyone happy to hear it.

The next week and a half saw different family members coming over to spend time helping Meemaw on the farm. Cousin Tilde and I planted flowers around the house and filled planters while Meemaw directed from her rocker on the porch. When it was finished and Tilde left Meemaw and I walked up the driveway and at about the halfway mark, turned and looked at the house, it looked like an idyllic country home from a magazine.

"It's such a charming place," I remarked.

"My husband, Benjamin, and I bought this place forty years ago." Meemaw and I began walking slowly back to the house. "He called it a piece of heaven and a slice of American pie all in one. Life couldn't get any better than right here in Oakland, Tennessee, and he was right, you know. Having James come live here filled the void when his momma died. Such an inquisitive child – loved sounds - he started on the piano, you know. His love of music carried him to other instruments. He never tired of it. Papaw and I are very proud of him. When God took Papaw home, his music suffered. James loved his Papaw, followed him everywhere. Idolized him. When Papaw left us, a light went out in James. Sounds stopped speaking to him and he started working the farm, but I knew he wasn't happy. Everyone has a soul purpose. Music is in James, it surrounds him. Without it, he's not whole. When he started becoming like his Papaw, I showed him the scrapbook that Benjamin kept of everything James did musically. When he knew how much his Papaw loved his music, he started playing again. Would you like to see it?"

"I would be honored."

Meemaw left me on the front porch and came back with a large scrapbook which I took from her. She sat in the rocking chair while I moved my chair closer to her. For the next couple of hours, I laughed and smiled as she showed me James' accolades. My favorite was when he was ten and won a 4H competition for best show pig. The pig was bigger than James but the boy had a proud smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, he loved that pig and it loved him. Followed James everywhere," Meemaw said her eyes bright but teary-eyed. "When it died a year later of disease he cried and was heartbroken something fierce." Meemaw took a deep breath then looked at me. "My time is coming. Very soon."

I stopped thumbing the pages. Searching her face, I could see she was missing those days, back when all was sweet and time hadn't done them in. My heart twisted as I looked down at the photos on the page. I understood what she was trying to tell me without telling me. Time. That dirt bag of a man holding a scythe, an hourglass filled with sand on one end, a stopwatch that no longer worked. Her borrowed time was running out.

"Does James know?"

"No. Please don't tell him. He's alive, I want him to play his music and live."

I looked at her worn, etched but beautiful face. "The doctors—"

"Already been. More tests and scans, the end result the same. The cancer has become more aggressive. I'm feeling it." Meemaw put her hand atop mine. "I'm telling you because you'll keep him going, you'll remind him why he's here. To keep playing so his Papaw and I can hear it and dance across the clouds of heaven. Please don't let him go."

I smiled. This was family. This was love. The knot in my throat left me mute, so I nodded.

"Good. We'll talk of it no more. Now tell me about that ocean of yours. I want to dip my toes in it." She flashed me that wondrous James smile.