The Lilac Bouquet

by Carolyn Brown

  “How do you women say nice things to one another when what you really want to do is have a hissy fit? That tension in the room today was the worst.”

  “We are from Venus, darlin’.”

  “What are you talking about?” Logan asked.

  “It’s from a book that I read for one of my psychology classes. You guys, on the other hand, sprang from Mars, where they teach cage fighting and how to spit,” she told him.

  His laughter shot through the phone and out toward the stars. “You are funny, but probably right. Thank goodness for y’all ladies to soften us. Next Thursday we are going to Graham. I won’t let her catch us again.”

  “I’ll make the reservations.” She grinned.

  “I’ll bring dinner, and if anyone, including Tandy or my grandpa, shows up at the door, we aren’t going to answer it.”

  “If that’s in a contract, just show me where to sign. If they are sitting in the parking lot when I get there, leave the bathroom window open and prop a ladder beside it on the outside.”

  “Sounds like a solid plan to me,” he said. “Good night, darlin’. See you Sunday.”

  “’Night. I love you to the moon and back,” Emmy Jo said.

  Just as she hung up, a star burning its way across the heavens caught her attention. She watched it shoot from the place it had occupied for maybe a million years in a long white trail until it left the horizon. Tightly shutting her eyes, she made a wish. I want to know this whole story. Something is asking me to figure it out.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Seth had been in a good mood on Friday and Saturday. He didn’t laugh again, but he did smile at least once a day, and on Sunday when they were sitting again on the porch of the old home place, he complimented Emmy Jo on her dumplings.

  “They’re almost as good as what Mama made for us every Sunday,” he said as he ate the last few bites of his ice cream.

  “Really!” She was shocked that he’d say that but glad that he’d opened the door for her to ask questions. “So you have some good memories of this place?”

  “The best.” He nodded. “Growing up in the Depression, we weren’t the only poor people in Hickory. Lots of folks left to go to California, where there were jobs. Those of us left behind lived hand-to-mouth most of the time. Daddy had part-time work at the mill and did odd jobs for folks who had the money to hire him. Mama made do with what he brought home, but we always had chicken and dumplings for dinner on Sunday after church.”

  “And homemade bread?”

  Seth shook his head. “Not until Nora got to be about ten years old and found out she had a knack for bread making. Mama could make biscuits that would melt in your mouth and the best strawberry jam in the world, but she never was much of a hand at yeast rolls. But now, Nora—that girl could do a fine job with them.”

  The chair squeaked as it rocked back and forth on the old wooden porch. Seth looked happy, so maybe now was the time to ask the question that had been on her mind for the last two days.

  “So after your dad left, how did your mama make it?”

  Big black clouds obliterated the sun and Seth’s expression changed in a moment to match the sky. His blue eyes drew down into slits, and he inhaled so deeply that his chest puffed out. His body went ramrod stiff in the chair and didn’t change as he let the air out slowly.

  “I thought everyone in town knew about my mother,” he said.

  “I’ve heard the rumors,” Emmy Jo said.

  “When Daddy left, Mama went everywhere in town looking for a job to make enough money to keep us kids fed. Every day for a whole week, she swallowed her pride and asked all those people who’d been ugly to her for a job. She would have cleaned their outhouses or cooked for them or ironed their clothing—anything to make money. But most of them slammed doors in her face. Then she heard that Jesse Grady’s mama was looking for a housekeeper, and she walked three miles out to their farm to ask if she could have the job.” He paused and ran a hand over his forehead.

  “If someone had a job to be done, why wouldn’t they hire her?” Emmy Jo asked.

  “Jesse’s mama told her that no one was ever going to hire her because she’d left poor Luke practically at the altar for a shiftless fellow like Sam Thomas.”

  “But that was what? Like years and years before?” Emmy Jo couldn’t wrap her mind around such pure meanness. The years should have softened the townsfolk somewhat in the years between the time she was seventeen and in her thirties. If not for her, then for the children she was trying to support.

  “The first time was seventeen years before. The second time happened when I was sixteen. Nora was just shy of fifteen. The next day we decided that if Mama couldn’t find a job, we’d work. I went to the lumberyard, and the manager said he was barely making it. As I was leaving, Jesse and his daddy came into the place.”

  He stopped talking, and the sadness in his face said he was remembering that day all too well. She waited, afraid to ask another question and yet aching to know the rest of that story.

  “Jesse’s daddy had a lot of pull in the community by the time my dad left. He was a churchgoing man who even preached sometimes in those days. You have to remember that he wasn’t a religious man until after he’d won my grandparents’ farm in the poker game. When that happened, he doubled the size of his property. Maybe he decided that it was time to clean up his act. Who knows?”

  “Did he say something to the manager?” Emmy Jo asked.

  “They went over in a corner and talked real low. Jesse stood there with a cocky smirk the whole time that his daddy and the manager talked. It was only a couple of minutes, but finally I realized that I wasn’t going to be hired. So I left.”

  “Did Nora have any luck?” Emmy Jo asked.

  Seth shook his head. “Not a bit. She was in tears when she came home that evening. Several ladies said they’d give her a job, but times were tough and nearly everyone was struggling.”

  “And your mama? She must have been frantic, havin’ three kids. The food was probably getting down to the bare bones,” Emmy Jo said.

  “Mama sat on the porch all night with her Bible in her lap. I slept poorly, wondering what we would do. The property belonged to Daddy, not to Mama, so she couldn’t sell it. We had no money to leave Hickory, and you are right, there was little food in the house by then.”

  “Surely the people in Hickory wouldn’t stand by and watch y’all starve. Didn’t they bring in pots of beans or something to keep y’all fed? We have that food pantry nowadays.”

  Even with Tandy’s horrible reputation, her friends would have supported her in a situation like that. And she’d worked at Libby’s as a waitress until she retired back about the time that Emmy Jo was born. So there was proof that Hickory cared about its people, even if they did stray from the narrow pathway.

  “I think they might have liked to watch us starve to death,” Seth said. “The word was that Mama had finally gotten her just due. Everyone still felt sorry for Luke because he’d lost his wife, since he’d never married again. And the fact that Daddy had run off with a barmaid, well, it made them feel righteous to punish Mama.”

  Kind of like the way Jesse Grady feels about me. All powerful and self-righteous, because I’m not legitimate. And yet, Granny is carrying that feeling over to Logan. Lord, what a mess.

  “Then of course all the old garbage surfaced. Maybe Mama’s parents weren’t even married. What if they were serial killers . . . By the time we were down to the last flour in the bin, she was nothing but a blight on the town and they were determined to run her out or die trying,” he said.

  “But they didn’t get what they wanted, did they?” Emmy Jo asked, not really wanting to hear the rest of the story. Mary had suffered enough in her lifetime. To be totally shunned in her time of need was beyond horrible. It was downright evil.

  “No, but I wished they had. She sent me to town that Saturday morning for red paint. Used the last of her money to buy it, and she went out to the shed and painte
d an old lantern.”

  Emmy Jo held her breath so long that light-headedness set in and she had to force air into her lungs. “I was hoping that you weren’t going to say that. I’d heard things about her, but . . .”

  Seth held up a palm and went on. “She carried it to the front porch and hung it beside the door while it was still wet. I still hate the smell of paint today, and I hate the color red. Hanging that light on the porch meant that she was opening her doors to make money sleeping with the men in town. Overnight she became the town prostitute.”

  “Lord, you were only sixteen. You must have felt helpless.”

  He nodded. “She gathered us around her and said, ‘The people in Hickory don’t want us here, but we don’t run from our problems. My kids will not go hungry.’ That night the sheriff came and told her to take down the light. It was against the law. I don’t know what she told him, but the light stayed up and he never came back.”

  “Blackmail?” Emmy Jo asked.

  “Maybe. She must’ve known something on him, because he steered clear of our place from then on,” he said. “But those women who wouldn’t give her a job . . .” He cleared his throat and hesitated again. “Every time one of their husbands left the house, they wondered where he was, right? And then the husbands had to let her stay in town because she could have told the wives. What a tangled-up mess.”

  “And you and Nora were old enough to know who came and went,” Emmy Jo finished for him.

  “Yes, we did.” His smile was barely more than a grimace. “And Alfred Conroy was the first one to arrive at the house. He begged her with tears to take money from him and take down the light. She told him that it was too late to do what he should have done in the beginning, and she shut the door in his face. I never knew why she wouldn’t let him in the house until I read Daddy’s letter.”

  “I see why you hate red,” she whispered.

  Seth’s eyes softened. “Before the next Sunday, the preacher’s wife came calling and told Mama that it would be best if she didn’t come to church anymore. That made it the second church that she’d been thrown out of in town.”

  Tears spilled down Emmy Jo’s cheeks and dripped onto her bright-yellow shirt, leaving wet circles. How could this be the town she grew up in? Even Tandy had had help.

  “Don’t cry,” Seth said softly. “Mama didn’t. She held her head high and told the woman that God was not confined to a building, so she could worship him right there in her house with the red light on the porch.”

  Emmy Jo wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and then dried it on her jeans. “I want to grow up and have Mary Thomas’s strength. She must’ve been made of steel.”

  The chair began to rock again. “To everyone but her children. There she was a softhearted mama. And now it’s time to go home for supper. How about a game of Scrabble after we finish? I bet you five bucks I can beat you.”

  “You’re on.” Emmy Jo popped up from the porch.

  She’d been dating Logan since she was sixteen, and his parents had always disapproved of her because of Tandy’s reputation. But good grief! It was nothing like what Seth had endured. No wonder he was a recluse.

  It had been years since Seth had taken the old game from the cabinet. Those first few months after he sold his real estate business and leased out the building, he’d played a lot—against himself. Emmy Jo had been so upset when she heard about the red light that he wanted to take her mind off it. Hearing rumors was one thing; hearing facts was a whole different ball game, especially when she had already heard about the other things Mary Thomas had endured. Bless Emmy Jo’s sweet heart for taking on the burden of even listening. He was grateful to her, because each bit that he talked about softened up another hard spot in his heart.

  But now it was time to play a game, to get back into their bantering mode to take their minds off the sadness.

  “I should tell you,” she said as she set the board up on the kitchen table, “that Tandy hates Scrabble, so I played it most of the time by myself.”

  “Just to be fair.” He turned the tiles upside down and shuffled them. “I did the same thing.”

  “Well, I haven’t seen a board in maybe five years, so we’re starting on fairly even ground.” She slid over her share of tiles. “Did you go to college after you got out of the service?”

  “I took some classes in business while I was in the service. When I got out, I took what I needed to get my real estate license, but I do not have a degree. Did you get any college at all?” He set his tiles up on the wooden holder.

  “Kind of.” She rearranged the tiles. “I went to vo-tech and got my CNA—certified nursing assistant degree—and then went to work for Hickory Health Care right out of high school. I enrolled in night classes and got my LPN last year. You can go first.” She grabbed a tissue in time to catch a sneeze.

  He played a word and drew four tiles from the pile in the middle of the table. “Allergies?” he asked.

  “Could be. I’m never sick. I was the only kid in school who didn’t miss a single day in all twelve years,” she answered and then sneezed again.

  “My doctor is coming to check my incision pretty soon. He can give you a goin’-over to be sure that it’s just allergies. I don’t want you gettin’ me sick,” he said.

  “Jeez, Seth! I don’t need a doctor over a couple of sneezes. Don’t be so paranoid,” she said.

  “You will be checked.” He tipped his chin high enough that he was looking down his nose at her.

  “We’ll see,” she said. “Play your next word. I feel lucky, so you better be careful.”

  He played the word math. “My favorite subject.”

  “Mine, too,” she said. “That and English. Not so much with science or history, though.”

  “Did you like school?” he asked.

  “Loved it, but I was not class president or a cheerleader. I didn’t have time for that. I worked at Libby’s after school and studied in between customers. In today’s world they call me a nerd. What was the word for the unpopular crowd in your day?”

  “I heard the word nerd when I was in school, but mostly the boys who weren’t popular were called hubcaps. I don’t know about the girls,” he answered.

  She played a word and frowned. “So were you a hubcap?”

  “I wasn’t even a lug nut,” he answered. “The Thomas kids weren’t even worthy of jokes. We were invisible for the most part, and we liked it that way.”

  She played the Q on a triple word slot and jumped ahead of him in points. “I’m going to wind up with your five dollars.”

  “Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched,” he said.

  “Don’t get too used to having that five in your pocket,” she shot back, grateful that they were back on familiar ground with each other.

  It was well after ten when they wound down the second game. At the end of the first one, Emmy Jo was richer by five dollars. When the next one was finished, she’d given the same bill back to Seth.

  “A profitable evening.” Seth yawned.

  Emmy Jo sneezed again and reached for a tissue. “Good night. See you in the morning.”

  “Good night.” He stood without the help of his walker.

  “Good job.” She grinned.

  His heart doubled in size at the compliment from her. “So you think the doctor will be pleased with the progress?”

  “Oh, yes, he will. Some of my patients don’t do this well even with therapy.”

  Seth would have danced a jig if he’d been able.

  On Tuesday morning, Tandy had something going at the church and Emmy Jo was secretly happy, because she needed another couple of days away from her grandmother after the previous Thursday afternoon. When she reached the café, the breakfast run was over and Libby and Diana were sitting at a table with a platter of pancakes and bacon between them and a pot of coffee off to the side.

  Libby waved her over. “Grab a cup from behind the counter and a plate and we’ll share.”
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  Emmy Jo wasn’t hungry, but a cup of hot coffee did sound good. She got a mug, poured it full, and sat down with the two women. “Libby, did you know the story about Seth’s mama and the red light?”

  Libby’s dark-brown ponytail was twisted into a messy bun with a pencil stuck in the middle to secure it. She swallowed and nodded at the same time. “My mother mentioned it when Seth came in to pick up his takeout orders. She always said that she knew that boy would come back to Hickory and set it on its ear for the way it treated his mama.”

  Emmy Jo sipped her coffee. “What else did your mother say?”

  “My grandmother knew Mary Thomas and said there wasn’t a finer woman in the world. She never did believe that story about Mary cheating on her fiancé. Said she wasn’t that kind of girl. Something happened that night that the preacher and his wife kicked her out into the street. Rumors had it that she’d spent the night with Sam Thomas and was drunk. My grandmother didn’t believe it, but . . .” Libby shrugged.

  Emmy Jo nodded. “Anyone else ever think that?”

  Libby shook her head slowly. “I wouldn’t have any idea. Once a rumor is started and folks believe it, you might as well write it up in stone and prop it up by the church house doors, because ain’t nobody goin’ to believe anything else.”

  “So, there were a few women who didn’t think Mary was treated right?”

  “Mama told me that if my grandmother had had the money to hire Mary or Nora or even Seth, she would have done it, but in those days this little café was barely paying the bills. People could hardly afford to buy groceries, much less go out to eat. So yes, it was just a handful of people, those who had a little money, who banded together and tried to run Mary out of town. Self-righteous bastards!”

  Emmy Jo finished off her coffee. “Can I pour all of us another cup?”

  “Yes, and thank you,” Libby said.

  “So the café goes way back in your family?” Emmy Jo filled all three mugs and set the pot on a hot pad in the middle of the table.

  Libby smiled. “My great-grandmother and grandfather put in the original café and named it Libby’s. That was her name, and she was an amazing cook. The place burned and was blasted by a tornado a time or two. After the last one, they bought this building and it’s been here ever since.”