On and on it went. At length I turned to Hope. “This is all incredible, but I wanted to see your mural.”
“And see it you shall,” said Kirsten. She cleared a path, and Hope, Eddie, and Ralph escorted me through a door into the back of the building.
“Oh my!” I gasped. It was just like being in the middle of the street outdoors, only in miniature. There was the barbershop, the cleaners, the coffee shop, the real estate agency—all painted along the wall—and through each painted window, I saw someone I recognized. There was Charlie in the hardware store, and my mother at the cleaners, and—oh heavens! The man in the barber’s chair was a handsome young airman who made my heart flutter. On the sidewalk—oh my—there was a picture of me! I looked to be in my late twenties, and I was taking a photo of Eddie and Becky as children in front of the bakery. A lump the size of an egg formed in my throat. “Hope, honey, you don’t have one ounce of an inkling of how talented you really are.”
“Nor do you. Look.” She turned me around to face the opposite wall. It was entirely covered with photos. I looked closer. They were photos I’d taken—photos that went back decades. The back of the room held two partitions, which were also covered with photos.
“Oh my,” I muttered.
“Gran, the New Orleans Museum of Art wants to do a special show of your photography,” Hope said.
“You’re kidding!”
“No. I’m not. And some of your prints... Well, Eddie has a gallery that wants to sell them in California.”
“That’s right, Mom.” Eddie was at my elbow, his round face beaming. “Hope sent me some of your work from the sixties and I’ve had copies made, and we’ve got buyers already lined up.”
“Well, goodness gracious!” This was all too amazing to take in—and in the midst of it, people kept coming up and telling me how much they treasured photos I’d taken of them or their loved ones.
Among the display of townspeople was one that didn’t belong there—one that I had hidden in the bottom of my closet: the photo of a young airman in uniform, smiling just a bit. But the one that made my heart turn over and nearly overflow with emotion was a photo of Charlie on the porch of our house, my favorite photo of him.
“Oh my,” I murmured.
The mayor clanged a spoon against his beer mug, and the roar of the crowd shushed to a murmur. He tapped it again, and the room fell silent. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please. As you know, we’ve gathered here to show Miss Addie our love and appreciation, and to give her a big send-off to California. Her son, Eddie, wants to say a few words.”
Eddie edged his way to the coffee bar. “Mother always wanted to be a photojournalist.” He looked straight at me. “She worked as one during the war, and dreamed of traveling the world and capturing all of the important news of the day. She thought she’d put those dreams away when she had my sister and me. She thought she gave them up to raise her family and care for my father, and his parents, and her parents.” His gaze lingered on my face, full of love. We’d sat up late for five nights, talking, since he and Ralph had come to town, and I was eager to spend more time with them in California. “She might not have known it at the time, but shedidcapture all the important news of the day. She captured the highlights in the lives of everyone in this town.”
“Darn tootin’!” Harvey Angus yelled. “And we sure do thank you for it!”
The crowd laughed and burst into applause.
“That’s right, Miss Addie,” said the mayor. “And we want you to know how very much you mean to all of us, and how much we appreciate all that you’ve contributed to our lives.”
My eyes swam. Eddie was right—Ihadcovered stories that were big and important and far-reaching, and I hadn’t even realized it.
But it wasn’t my photography that was my major achievement. No, sir; my greatest achievement was my family. I looked at Eddie, his eyes shining with pride. My little Eddie, so teased in school, was happy and thriving, loved and loving, caring for the dental health of hundreds of patients. I thought of my brilliant Becky, so bright that men who made millions turned to her for advice on how to invest it. I thought of Charlie and his father, how they’d provided the supplies that had helped build and repair most of the homes in this town. I thought of my father, who’d talked many people out of foolish lawsuits they would have later regretted, lawsuits that would have ruined other people’s lives.
I looked at Hope, my lovely, gifted granddaughter, talented beyond what she dared even dream for herself.
Oh my goodness—what if we all are?What if everyone held so much potential that the world could barely contain it?
Over the din of the crowd, I heard Mother’s voice. “See there, Addie? I told you that you needed to find out the truth. And the truth is... we are all so much more important than we know. We don’t have a clue how wide our ripples ride out on the waters of the world.”
“You were right, Mother,” I whispered.
“But so were you, child,” Mother replied. “So were you.”
54
hope
What a wonderful party,” Peggy said as Eddie and Ralph led an exhausted Gran out the door. “I enjoyed it every bit as much as Miss Addie!”
“Me, too,” said Aimee, picking up an empty glass.
“Me, three,” said Kirsten, rolling up the white butcher paper that had served as tablecloths.
“Thank you so much for putting this together.” I looked at Kirsten and the other women, affection forming a knot in my throat. “Gran was so moved.”
