Little Town, Great Big Life

by Curtiss Ann Matlock

  She ran into him coming out the back door of the drugstore.

  “Lyle!”

  “Hi, honey.” He bent to give her a quick kiss. He was holding two to-go cups of coffee, putting her in mind of Andy earlier.

  “You’re on duty?” She ran her eyes over his uniform, as if she might be mistaken.

  “Yeah, but just workin’ a few hours this afternoon, that’s all. Sheriff had to go to court, and Dorothy Jean already had the afternoon off. Another doctor appointment. She may be pregnant, but don’t mention it to anyone, because if she is, the sheriff is gonna be mad,” he confided in a lowered tone. “I’m gonna help Giff cover, but I told them I needed off by seven. Mason’s gonna come in then. We can still go to dinner.”

  “Go to dinner?”

  “Yeah. You said last night that you kinda wanted to go out to eat tonight.”

  “I said that?”

  “I thought you did.” He gave his usual uncertain expression, then, “Over at the café Woody has made fresh peach pie from the first peaches off his tree. You always like that. Guess I do, too.” He grinned his charming grin.

  “Oh.”

  Down the alley behind the sheriff’s office, Giff pulled in and beeped the horn of the patrol car.

  “Lyle, didn’t you see the message on the refrigerator?”

  He looked guilty. “Ah, honey, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t think to look. I was hurryin’ to get here. What was it?”

  “Uh…nothin’. I’ll tell you later.”

  “Okay.” He lifted the cups to her and gave a loving wink, then headed away with his long-legged stride.

  She thought to go home and erase the message. That would be best. But she had her radio spot first. She hurried into the drugstore, where the air conditioner above the rear door dripped on her head. She called for Arlo to bring her some cold sweet tea as she went to her little office. She threw her purse on the desk and dug for the bits of notes she had been making all day.

  Of course he had not read the note. Whatever had possessed her to think that he would? Did he ever read the notes on the message board? No. He would get in the refrigerator and never see them. Half the time he couldn’t find the ketchup in the refrigerator right in front of his face.

  And she well knew all that, so why had she written the note in the first place? Because she just found talking so darn hard. People talked to her all the time, but she did not talk to them, unless she was telling them what to do in their lives. She did not talk about her own life.

  Arlo brought the cold tea. “You sure look hot.”

  “Now why would I be hot on a ninety-degree day?” she said, and his head instantly disappeared back around the partition.

  She drank deeply of the sweet, cold liquid, then rubbed her head. May be pregnant, but don’t mention it to anyone, because if she is, the sheriff is gonna be mad…

  She felt dizzy. Her brain was too full of knowledge of people’s lives, things she was to tell and things she was not.

  The phone rang. Belinda answered, heard Jim say, “Thirty seconds,” and then listened to the Blaine’s Drugstore jingle play.

  “Hello, ever’body. My goodness it is hot today, and that leads to a lot of stress. Over here at Blaine’s Drugstore, we’ve got a few helpful stress remedies on special….” As always when on the radio, her words just flowed out. She even sat up straighter.

  She told of Corrine’s achievement and prospect of going far away to school. She relayed the news about Winston’s accident, and that everyone was grateful he was unhurt, and that anyone can make a mistake. She told about John Cole’s splendid recovery and loving the attention of family and friends, and about Julia and Juice’s clever marriage solution, and thanked Maggie Lou Blades, who was twenty-nine, for excellent service at the Community Bank, and welcomed Andy Smith to town and invited people to stop by to meet him at the Main Street Café.

  She had never given such a cheery, positive spin to her reporting. A number of people in her audience picked up something in her tone and turned puzzled faces to their radios.

  And then, as she wrapped one arm around herself, she said, “There is also news of a special nature close to home. We have a pregnant woman in our midst….”

  There was a pause, and out of her mouth tumbled, “Belinda Blaine of Blaine’s Drugstore…me…I am going to have a baby.

  “That’s all for now. See you next week on About Town and Beyond.”

  She clicked off the phone and carefully returned the receiver to its cradle.

  Out in the front of the drugstore, Arlo, looking a little stunned, said, “Well, who would have thought?”

  Corrine replied, “It makes sense.” She was rarely surprised by anything, and realized some part of her had seen this coming. She had a lot of experience with her aunt Marilee. She was also getting a lot of experience with life, period, she thought.

  Jaydee Mayhall at the counter sat with his coffee cup halfway to his lips. Oran Lackey came out from the pharmacy, scratching his head.

  Down at the post office, Julia Jenkins-Tinsley said aloud to the radio, “Well, dang, Belinda, do you have to go that far to upstage me?”

  Across the street, Fayrene whipped her car to a stop in her parking place behind the café, grabbed up the sacks of onions and summer squash she had just bought at the IGA and hurried inside to tell everyone what she had heard on the radio. The girls thought she was kidding, but Woody grinned and said, “I don’t know why anythin’ like that should su’prise y’all.”

  “Her condition has mellowed her,” Fayrene pronounced. “She gave the café free publicity, mentionin’ it and welcomin’ you to town, Andy.”

  “Welcoming me? What did she say?”

  Fayrene noticed he looked oddly alarmed. “She was really nice,” she reassured him. “She said a welcome to Andy Smith, who likes our town, and for people to stop over at the café to meet you.” Fayrene remembered to enunciate her words a little better. Andy seemed to talk well and was so sophisticated; she did not want to sound like a hick around him.

  Down at the bank, Maggie Lou Blades was still at her teller station and, in fact, preparing to wait on Inez Cooper, who had just come in. Maggie Lou was forming a way to mention about Norman Cooper’s earlier visit, when her boss called her over, told her about Belinda’s complimentary mention on the radio and said that, as a result, Maggie Lou was named employee of the week and was possibly up for a promotion to loan officer.

  Still sitting at her desk, now with her arms around herself, Belinda might have been quite surprised to know that many people were thrilled for her. Rosalba Garcia, who had secret reason to be indebted to Belinda, excitedly told her employer, Marilee Holloway, who said, “Oh, finally somethin’ I can help Belinda with!” John Cole Berry, bored and having caught the announcement on the coffee-machine radio, told Emma, who instantly started planning a baby shower to end all baby showers. And Winston, who was playing dominoes at the senior center, excused himself and, in a very rare move, went to Grace Florist and had a dozen red roses sent to Belinda.

  As he stepped back out onto the bright sidewalk, he looked up and down Main Street and said, “Well, Lord, another young one to carry on.”

  The sound of an approaching siren brought Belinda out of her thoughts. She was still sitting at her desk, hiding, as it were. She had heard some whispering on the other side of the panel, but no one had appeared, thank heaven.

  She listened to the siren grow louder and louder, until it was right outside. Then silence. A car door slammed, and the rear door of the drugstore opened and closed.

  Belinda’s eyes went to the corner of the partition.

  Lyle’s tall frame in his tan uniform appeared.

  “I was over at the Texaco, pumpin’ gas…. I didn’t hear it, but Giff had the radio on and he says…” His dark eyes ran over her face as he spoke. “Did you say…?”

  She was already bobbing her head up and down.

  He came around her desk, and she rose up to meet him. He pulled h
er into his arms and lifted her clean off the ground and spun her around.

  “Lyle…I can’t breathe.”

  When she continued to gasp for breath even after he sat her down, he panicked and called for Oran, who had her breathe into a paper bag.

  Lyle grabbed cigars from the case near the soda fountain and passed them to everyone in the drugstore, and by that time quite a number of people had come in to congratulate Belinda. She hung back, but Lyle was all out there, until Giff dragged him away to deputy duty. Even then he kept having Giff stop—at the Texaco, at MacCoy’s Feed and Grain, out at the Ford dealership—and he kept handing out cigars.

  It was not until that evening when he came home that he finally asked Belinda when the baby was due to be born. All afternoon she had managed to evade answering that question for anyone else.

  Now she told Lyle, “November 29 is the due date the doctor has set…but you know that is just an estimate.”

  “November 29?” Lyle frowned in thought and cocked his head to the side.

  Belinda turned away to the refrigerator. “Honey, would you like a Coke?” She brought one forth.

  Lyle said, “You are four months pregnant?”

  She gazed at him. “A little shy of that.”

  “How long have you known? You mean you’ve seen a doctor and gone all these months and didn’t tell me?”

  “Honey, I have been afraid I might lose the baby. I am thirty-eight, and miscarriage rates go up for older mothers. I didn’t want to tell you and then lose the baby.”

  “My mother had me at forty-three.”

  “I know, honey, but she had children before you. This is my first one…to be delivered.”

  He turned and gazed out the window.

  Belinda realized she still stood with a bottle of Coca-Cola in her hand and the refrigerator door open. She closed the door.

  Lyle remained silent for long seconds, before looking at her again with an expression that took her breath. “So you were just goin’ to maybe lose the baby and never tell me you had even gotten pregnant?”

  “No, honey. I would have told you. It’s just that I wanted to make sure.”

  “I’m the father, Belinda. And I’m your husband. I have a right to be in this with you all the way. Good times and hard times.”

  He shook his head, looking away again with as pained an expression as she had ever seen on him. “You just shut me out all the time. You still, after all these years, keep me shut out. It ain’t supposed to be like that.”

  They went to a late supper at the café, where Fayrene gave them the peach pie on the house as a celebration of their parenthood. Fayrene made a big deal about the pregnancy, as did a number of their friends and neighbors who came into the café while they were there.

  “Now, when is this baby due?”

  “End of November.”

  “What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  Belinda cleared her throat. “I said the end of November.” She saw Lyle look down at his plate.

  “Well, that is comin’ on fast…. She said end of November,” Fayrene told the Peele sisters several booths over.

  “You and Lyle can sure keep a secret,” said Luwanna, who came to refill their cold tea.

  It seemed throughout their entire meal people kept congratulating them and telling them how now their lives were going to change. Lyle was very jovial, as always, and Belinda remained her normal down-to-earth self. She was overwhelmed by everyone’s good wishes. She really had not thought so many people would care about her life. She found all the attention horribly uncomfortable.

  On the way home, she and Lyle said not a word to each other, other than Belinda having to say, “I just have to turn up this air-conditioning. I can’t breathe.”

  Usually Lyle was the one to make an effort to cover such silences, but that night he didn’t try at all. Every time he looked at Belinda, his eyes were pained.

  Later, in their bed, he turned from her. She lay there thinking of how to tell him all the things that kept running through her mind.

  Each time she tried to speak, she could not bring forth words. They jammed up inside her, and she felt as if she was going to crack right apart.

  Belinda lay on the exam table, while the woman technician and doctor hovered on either side, and Lyle at her head.

  “Okay…it looks like a girl,” said the doctor and technician together.

  The next instant the two women jumped to grab Lyle and get him to a chair, leaving Belinda totally forgotten.

  Belinda watched Lyle being fawned over and put her hand to her belly, silently telling her daughter, I will be here for you, always. That’s what I can do.

  Lyle drove them home. In town, they passed Willie Lee walking along in front of the IGA with Gabby Smith.

  “Pull over. I need to tell Willie Lee,” Belinda instructed. She lowered the window. “Willie Lee, it is a girl.”

  He squinted at her from beneath his ball cap. “Yes,” he said, and gave a crooked grin.

  Lyle said, “So Willie Lee even knew before me?”

  Belinda breathed deeply and sat there, looking out the windshield, her spirit doing a nosedive. Then it came to her. “Willie Lee even knew before me. He knows everything before everyone.”

  “Oh. Yeah,” Lyle said.

  When they reached home, Lyle said, “I’m goin’ to call my sister and tell her.”

  He seemed to hesitate as he took up the cordless phone and dialed. When his sister came on the line, he walked away to his workout room, out of Belinda’s hearing. He had never before deliberately done that.

  PART THREE

  Between Birth and Heaven

  CHAPTER 16

  1550 on the Radio Dial

  Winston Is in the Building

  HE OPENED HIS EYES, AND THERE WAS WILLIE Lee’s face staring at him, blue eyes blinking slowly, curiously, behind his thick glasses.

  “Good morn-ing,” Willie Lee said. “We are late.”

  Winston felt disoriented. Then he saw the numerals on the clock. They read 5:50. Coming to the present, he threw back the quilt with a curse. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” He saw that Willie Lee was dressed, and Munro waited by the door.

  “Be-cause Cor-rine is not here to w-ake us,” said Willie Lee, frowning. He was not happy about his cousin having gone away to school.

  Winston did not bother to do more than splash water on his face and rinse with mouthwash.

  “Why didn’t you hooligans wake me up?” he demanded of Marilee and Tate, who came when they heard him pounding stiff-legged down the stairs, carrying his boots, his shirttail half into his pants, unshaven but with his hat on. “Didn’t you miss me?”

  “I am busy, in case you have not noticed,” said Marilee, with one child holding to her leg and the other crying in her arms. “And I thought you needed sleep.”

  “You were afraid to find out I had died,” he accused. “Well, I’m not dead yet! Come on, Tate, get a move on.”

  Tate and Marilee shared a glance, and then Tate hotfooted it after the older man. It was a relief to see Winston moving faster than he had in some time.

  Earlier that morning, when Tate had come down to the kitchen and found the coffeepot empty and unused, his first thought was that Winston had already gotten up and gone before anyone else. He had raced out to the garage to see if Winston had managed to get the keys and use the car. But the car was there, as was the bunged-up and unusable riding lawn mower. When he had peeked into Winston’s room, the old man appeared to be still asleep, so Tate had gone to awaken Marilee and ask her what to do. She, too, had felt compelled to look into Winston’s room.

  “He needs his sleep. Don’t go in.” And she shut the door quietly.

  But what Winston had said was closer to the truth, which was that they had been a little worried that he might have expired, and neither wanted to be the one to find him dead in his bed.

  Obvious to all was the bitter reality that Winston had begun to fail, as the saying w
ent. No one could face it. No one mentioned it to anyone else, and everyone went on as they always had, which was with the idea that Winston had always been there and always would be. Winston was one of those people everyone expected to live forever.

  For his part, Winston knew better than anyone else that he was failing. He was also aware, painfully so, that no one around him could face the fact. Except perhaps Willie Lee, who, Winston noticed, had begun to stick close. Everyone else seemed to look away.

  “Get on outta my chair!”

  At Winston’s holler, Everett hopped up as though he had been stuck with a cattle prod. He stumbled to his own smaller chair, while shouting into the microphone, “He’s arrived, folks! Winston is in the building!”

  Those were the first strong words Everett had been able to get out since opening the show without Winston. The Wake Up show was Winston’s show, no matter how hard Everett had fought against it. People expected Winston’s cutting up. Everett was the straight man. Without Winston, Everett couldn’t be straight; he just sort of fell over flat. When time had come to open the show and Winston was not there, the best Everett could do was come out with a croaking, “Gooood mornin’, folks! Welcome to the Wake Up show. Er…this is Everett—Winston and Willie Lee have not yet arrived. Let’s get started…uh, here’s the weather….”

  He had stumbled through fifteen minutes of the show, while calls began to come in, people asking where Winston was. Everett thought to announce that Winston had taken a day off, and after he said that, he had to blow his nose in his handkerchief and drink hot coffee to get his voice back.

  Now, Winston took over once again, “I overslept and no one woke me up…so I guess I need to say this again. Wake up, WAKE UP, you SLEE-PY-HEAD…this is Winston, and he AIN’T YET DEAD!”

  Everett breathed deeply. He took hold of the microphone and said, “We thank you for that notification, Winston. I’ll make sure I alert the newspapers. Now, may I give the school lunch menu?”

  Everything was all right in the world again.