Chapter 24

Though it was a different flight, Darlia's plane came in at the next gate over, so we didn't bother to move until we actually saw it pull up to the jetway. I went and grabbed Mama and Daddy's bags after a bit, and brought them back to where we were sitting. By that time we did in fact see the plane – it too was on time, only a couple of minutes later than it was supposed to be – and we walked over to her gate.

It wasn't a surprise to anyone when Darlia came off the jetway – we'd told her Mama and Daddy were coming, Gram and Gramp as she calls them, and we'd told them she was on her way back. But you'd have thought it was, the way Darlia squealed and ran toward us, and Mama and Daddy jumped up and grinned and grabbed hold of her.

After a minute or so she let go of them and grabbed me and Cecelia, and we went through the hugs and kisses again. Darlia can be as dignified as Queen Victoria, but she can also be as wild and free as any other 13-year-old girl, if not more so. We've made her mind, but we've never told her she has to be this way or that – her personality is what it is, and we've tried to let her show her personality as she sees fit within the bounds of courtesy and good sense.

We all trooped over to baggage claim to grab Darlia's duffel bag, for she packs as lightly as I do, and then across the bridge to the parking garage. We tossed all the bags into the back of the Blazer, and I put Darlia in front while Cecelia and our parents sat in the next seat back. I was the only one not chattering along, but it was interesting trying to keep up with all the remarks and questions I was supposed to react to. I don't know how the rest of them did it – they were all talking to each other, sometimes someone directing the same sentence to two or three people in succession.

But I've been present at Johnston family gatherings back in Alabama, when not just our parents, Cecelia's brother and sister, and we are there, but uncles and aunts and cousins and nieces and nephews as well, all talking at once. Black culture tends to be more openly emotional than white culture, and Cecelia's family is a leading example of that. When everyone gets together there are enough people to form a church, and unlike a church service, where everything follows a plan and the pastor's in control, a Johnston family reunion is anarchy in action.

We got home, showed Mama and Daddy into Darlia's room which they loved, and offered Darlia the choice of places to sleep. She picked the conference room next door in the office, with the understanding that she had to be up and about, if only to come back home and nap on the sofa, by the time the office opened for business. She could keep her sleeping bag rolled up in a corner, and put her toothbrush and whatnot in the office bathroom – and if anyone wanted to complain, we'd decide we didn't need their business.

Cecelia had been planning ahead, which she's good at, and once we'd all gathered around the big table in the dining room she was in the kitchen, checking on the pot of beans which had been cooking all day. "I would ask Darvin to prepare a mess of fried potatoes," she said, "since he is an expert in that one item of cookery. However, it takes time and attention to fry potatoes, and so we'll have to do without today. Instead, I have cornbread staying warm in the oven, and I shall fry some bacon for those who desire to mix some in with the beans."

"Cissy, you don' have to go to no special trouble," Daddy said.

"An' I can he'p you out in the kitchen," Mama said right after.

"This is not special trouble," Cecelia told them. "I cook this way at every possible opportunity – as I'm sure you both know already," she added with a smile. "And at different times during your visit, Mama, I shall eagerly accept your assistance. But today is my day to feed you, and I shall thank you to sit still and eat."

"Cissy ain't got any less mulish," Mama said, but she was smiling when she said it.

"You didn't expect her to, did you Maryellis?"

"Jud Johnston, don't give me that grin like you know better than me."

Daddy looked at me. "Son, dese women don' give a man no res', do dey?" His accent had increased with his mirth.

"I'm gonna take the fifth on that one, else Cecelia'll feed me my head."

"As I shall do anyway, more than likely, for your failure to rush to my defense."

I looked at Darlia. "No help from you, I bet."

She shook her head. "I'm a girl – I'm on Mom's side. An' if you don't know that by now, you're not as smart as I think you are."

"Well, I am as smart as you think I are."

Cecelia turned and opened her mouth, but Darlia beat her to it. "Mom's gonna get you for that one."

"Yeah, I know." I grinned at Cecelia. "I know I'm settin' on the target, so don't bother warnin' me."

Cecelia doesn't smirk easily or often, but she did just then. "I shall consider a warning unnecessary, then, and proceed directly to torment. In the meantime, come help me set the table."

I'm not more than middling dumb – I shut up and got up to help her set the table.