by Kit Morgan
She heard Theron get up. He came around table, wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her cheek. “You’re doing fine. It’s okay to make mistakes. That’s how we learn.”
“Yes,” she said as she eyed the blackened pancake she’d set to the side. “And from the looks of it, I’m going to be learning a lot.”
He turned her around. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll be just as good as Mrs. Pleet, you’ll see. It just takes a little practice.”
“You don’t mind if I burn your food?”
He shrugged. “Not if you don’t mind if I burn yours.”
“But you can cook!”
“Eggs.”
“What?”
“I can cook eggs. Not much else.”
She gaped at him. “But … I thought …”
“I make good sandwiches,” he added. “Trust me, if I was making our meals, you’d get tired of them pretty fast.”
She pressed her lips together and smiled, then laughed. “Thank you for confessing.”
He shrugged. “Just being honest.” He kissed her on the cheek again. “Now, don’t be afraid to be honest with yourself.” He returned to his chair and sat.
Leora studied him a moment. What did he mean by that? She shrugged as she turned to the stove – and realized that she’d expertly burned another pancake.
* * *
“… and this is Mrs. Tippens,” Mrs. Pleet said, motioning to a short, white-haired woman in a blue day dress.
Leora smiled at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Tippens. I look forward to hearing you sing.”
“Wonderful!” Mrs. Tippens said shrilly. “I can’t wait to perform this year! And to think I finally got a solo part!”
Leora fought against a cringe. The woman’s voice was like listening to screeching train brakes. If that’s how she talked, what was her singing like? “Yes, well, I can’t wait to see you perform.”
Mrs. Tippens nodded enthusiastically before she trotted off to immerse herself in another group of women, who drew her into their midst, all talking at once.
“Is that everyone?” Leora asked. So far the cast of the Christmas play consisted of at least twenty women and only two men. This, of course, could pose a problem. Who ever heard of the Three Wise Women?
“Yes, that’s all,” Mrs. Pleet said. “I don’t understand what happened to our regulars this year.”
“Regulars?”
“Yes, we’ve had more men than this sign up. I can’t get over the lack of participation this year. And it’s your first play too. I’m sorry, dear.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Pleet, we’ll make it work.”
“Oh, Mrs. Draaaaake!” came a shrill voice.
“Good heavens,” Leora whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Who is that?”
“Oh, it’s Mrs. Galloway – I forgot about her. She’s late as usual, but she’s a dear.”
A plump, grey-haired woman shoved her way through the gathered cast to Leora. “Well now, just look at ye!” she said with an Irish brogue. “I heard Pastor Drake done and got himself a wife! And I must say, yer a fine one, begorrah!”
Leora smiled, unsure of what to say other than “thank you.”
“It’s I that should be thanking ye, dearie. Now our poor lonely pastor won’t be lonely no more and we’ll have some livelier preachin’ come Sunday!”
Leora stared at her. “Livelier?”
“Oh yes, dearie. Poor Pastor Drake hasn’t been himself these last weeks, didn’t ye know?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t. I only arrived a few days ago.” She studied the woman and realized she had a lot to learn about her new husband. And what exactly did she mean by livelier? “Have you been assigned a part?”
“Yes,” she said proudly. “I’m a donkey.”
Leora bit her lip to keep from smiling, or worse. She’d better find out who was playing what part and make a list. She’d never been in charge of so many people. Not to mention she’d better brush up on the Christmas story – she hadn’t read it in years, probably because she hadn’t had a Bible in years.
She bit her lip again, this time to gather her nerve. “Can I have your attention, please?”
The chatter in the room died down as all eyes became focused on her. “Is it time to start already?” one of them asked.
“Not until Ophelia gets here,” another answered.
Ophelia? Leora silently mouthed. Who the heck was Ophelia?
“Oh, but she’s here!” someone else cried. Several women clapped at the announcement. And now she knew who Ophelia was – Mrs. Rutherford waltzed into the church sanctuary like she owned it. Leora was surprised to see her enter the building alone, but then, most of her normal entourage was already present.
She strolled right up to Leora. “I trust all is ready for our rehearsal?”
“Er, we were getting to it.”
“Getting to it and doing it are two different things. You’d do well to remember that or we’ll never have our play.”
Leora’s eyes flashed in a mix of anger and … what? She wasn’t afraid, was she? No, that wasn’t it. Then what?
“I of course will start things off,” Mrs. Rutherford went on to say. “Places everyone! Hurry now! We’ve only six weeks until Christmas!”
Leora stood a moment. It took a jab in the ribs from Mrs. Pleet to get her moving. “Yes, let’s start, shall we?” She gave Mrs. Pleet a sideways glance and shrugged.
Mrs. Rutherford went straight to the platform at the front of the sanctuary, took a nearby chair and, with the help of two of her coterie, stood on it.
“Mrs. Rutherford,” Leora said in alarm as she teetered. “What are you doing up there?”
“Taking my place! What else would I be doing?” she snapped.
“Oh dear,” Leora said under her breath. “What … place is that, exactly?”
“The angel Gabriel, naturally!”
“Naturally.” Leora looked over the rest gathered. “Everyone that has been assigned a part…” Good grief, how did the Christmas story start? With the angel Ophelia … er, Gabriel, for one. “Mary?” Whew, that was it. “Where is our Virgin Mary?”
“Here I am!” came a shrill voice.
Leora paled. “Oh good heavens, no …” she muttered as Mrs. Tippens pushed her way through the crowd. “You’re playing the Virgin Mary?”
“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” she asked, brushing a wisp of white hair from her eyes. “I can’t wait until I get a costume!”
Leora’s eyes roamed over her short, rotund – and aged – body. “Yes, I imagine you are.” She turned to Mrs. Pleet with an exasperated look.
Mrs. Pleet shrugged and held up her hands in innocence. “I didn’t assign the parts. ‘Gabriel’ over there did.”
Leora stared at Mrs. Rutherford, perched precariously on her chair. “That would explain it.”
“Well, are you going to start us, Mrs. Drake, or do I have to do all the work around here?”
Leora fought the urge to rub at her temples. “Yes, let’s start.” She turned to Mrs. Pleet. “Would you be so kind as to fetch me a Bible?”
“I’ll do better than that, dear. I’ll give you the script.”
Leora sighed in relief. “You’re an angel.” More so than the one on the chair, she added to herself.
Eight
With Mrs. Pleet’s help, Leora managed to make it through the first play rehearsal. She had a little trouble figuring out who was who, as she didn’t know who was who to begin with. Having women play most of the men’s parts was also confusing. But by the time it was over, she had a list of names and their respective parts in the play.
“I thought that went rather well, don’t you?” Mrs. Pleet asked.
“I thought it was positively awful,” Mrs. Rutherford complained. “You’d better have a decent grasp on this by our next rehearsal or people are going to quit.”
“Quit?” Leora said and shot her an incredulous look. “Mrs. Rutherford, may I remind
you that I just stepped into this?”
“Be that as it may, I had hoped Pastor Drake’s new wife would be … more ample-brained.”
Leora's mouth dropped open in shock. “Are you trying to insult me?”
“I just speak my mind. If more people did as I do, this world would be a better place.”
“If more people did, you’d be no place,” Mrs. Pleet muttered.
“Well, I never!” Mrs. Rutherford said, took that as her cue to exit and did.
Leora stood, shaking her head. Mrs. Pleet smiled. “That’s how you get rid of her.”
“By insulting her back? That doesn’t seem right.”
“Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire, dear. Now, would you like some help planning the next rehearsal?”
“Would I! Thank you, Mrs. Pleet – you’re my hero!”
“I just don’t want good old Ophelia to go stomping on anyone.”
“You mean, me, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that, dear.”
“Yes, but I know that’s what you meant.”
Mrs. Pleet shook her head in resignation. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll learn how to handle the likes of her in time.”
“I hope you’re right. She’s certainly a … unique individual.”
“Nothing unique about her – there are plenty of crotchety old women in the world! Thing of it is, she’s not even that old - just old enough to have had whatever happened to her make her the way she is.”
“I’d sure like to know what she’s got in her craw that makes her so unreasonable.”
“You and everyone else in town,” Mrs. Pleet said. “Now let’s get started.”
Leora nodded her agreement and together they figured out how best to utilize the next rehearsal. Once they were done, over an hour later, Mrs. Pleet decided she’d best get home.
“I should do the same,” Leora said as Mrs. Pleet wrapped a shawl about herself.
“Indeed – time to cook that new husband of yours some supper.”
“True enough, but what am I going to make?”
Mrs. Pleet smiled. “The stew you made yesterday at my place, of course. I didn’t have near the guests I thought I would and have a lot left over. Come with me and I’ll dish you up a bowl to take home.”
“Mrs. Pleet,” Leora said with a smile. “Have I told you that you’re wonderful?”
“No, but I don't mind hearing it.”
Leora laughed as she put on her own shawl and followed Mrs. Pleet out the front doors of the church. Theron was still working in his office, but she knew he’d lock up pretty soon. She’d be back in time to bake some biscuits to go with the leftover stew.
“Hello there!” someone called from across the street.
“Who is that?” Leora asked.
“Why, if it isn’t Mr. Short,” Mrs. Pleet said as they watched the man cross the street. “He’s the local butcher.”
“Mrs. Pleet, it’s so nice to see you,” he said when he reached them. He looked at Leora. “And who do we have here?”
“This is Pastor Drake’s new wife. Leora, may I introduce you to Frederick Short?”
Mr. Short took Leora’s hand and gave it a healthy shake. He was a wide man of medium height with an ample belly – the very picture of a butcher. “So Theron finally got himself a wife, eh? About time, poor fellow.”
Leora raised an eyebrow at him. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Short, but what exactly do you mean when you say … poor fellow?”
“Think nothing of it,” he said. “But your husband needed a wife.”
“Someone mentioned he was lonely,” she said, hoping he’d expound on it.
He didn’t disappoint. “Oh, I’m sure he was, but what I think drove him to the altar was Prudence Stevens. That girl followed him wherever he went like a baby duckling. It didn’t help that her mother encouraged it.”
“Oh?” Leora said. “Well, I guess this means Prudence will have to find someone else to follow.”
“Sometimes things work out that way in a small town. What folks are eligible and able to marry are too old for some, too young for others. But I’m glad Pastor Drake found you. By the way, have rehearsals started for the Christmas play?”
“You know they have, Frederick,” Mrs. Pleet said. “An announcement was pinned up in your shop.”
“I never saw any announcement. Come to think of it, this is the first year I haven’t.”
“What?” Mrs. Pleet said in surprise. “Now that’s strange. There was an entire committee formed to create the announcement and place them around town.”
“Maybe it fell off the wall and my apprentice Teddy swept it up or threw it out by accident.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Pleet said. She rubbed her chin and gave Leora a meaningful look.
“Were you interested in playing a part?” Leora asked.
“I do every year, but I thought maybe rehearsals hadn’t started yet. I’ve been waiting for the notice.”
Mrs. Pleet’s brow furrowed. “I think an announcement was made in church a few weeks ago, but I can’t remember. Old age, you know.”
“Come now, Mrs. Pleet, you’re still just a young filly,” Mr. Short said with a wink.
Leora hid a smile. Was he flirting?
“Oh, Frederick,” Mrs. Pleet said, waving a hand at him. “You say the nicest things. But we rehearse again in two days. Four o'clock – be there if you can.”
“Of course I’ll be there – wouldn’t miss it for the world!” He tipped his hat. “See you then, ladies.”
Leora watched him walk back across the street and disappear into a building with a sign reading, F. Short & Sons Finest Meats. She glanced at Mrs. Pleet and noticed she was staring at the building with a contented look on her face. Aha! Perhaps there was something going on between them.
Mrs. Pleet smiled to herself, turned on her heel and continued down the sidewalk to home. Leora set aside her thoughts about Mr. Short and followed.
* * *
Leora brought enough stew home to provide them each with a generous serving. She’d barely taken the biscuits out of the oven when her husband came through the door. “How did the rehearsal go?” he asked.
“I’m surprised you didn’t come see for yourself.” She’d been so busy trying to figure out who everyone was that she never noticed if he’d taken a peek or not.
“I didn’t want to disturb you and I was quite busy besides.” He sniffed the air. “Something smells good.”
“Mrs. Pleet and I made stew yesterday. I’m afraid it’s leftovers.”
“I don’t mind, especially if it tastes as good as it smells.”
“Only one way to find out,” Leora said as she dished up two bowls. She set the food on the table, sat and waited for him to say the blessing. After he did, she said, “I find it odd that there are only two men in the play. The rest are women.”
“What?” Theron said as he set down his spoon.
“Yes, women are playing the innkeeper, shepherds, wise men and, well… didn’t the word get out about auditions?”
“Yes, as I understand it. There’s usually a group in charge of posting the announcement at different shops around town, not to mention I made an announcement myself after service one day.”
“Strange,” Leora said then took a bite of her stew.
“By the way, as I was locking up the church, several women came by looking for you,” he informed her.
“Who were they?”
“Mrs. Gaston, Mrs. Mooney and Miss Smith. They wanted to speak to you about the winter concerts.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of any concerts,” she said.
“I’m sure they’ll catch up with you tomorrow. I told them to drop by the office in the afternoon. We have the concerts every year.”
“I’ll speak with them tomorrow,” she said and bit into a biscuit.
“That’s … not all.”
She almost choked. “What else?”
“Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Ol
iver came by just after the others left. They want to know if you’ll head up the Ladies’ Society for Godly Living .”
Leora’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that the organization Mrs. Pleet was involved in years ago?”
“The very one.”
“She mentioned it. She doesn’t still run it, does she?”
“Apparently not. They’re looking for a new president.”
“What’s wrong with the old one?”
“I have no idea,” he said with a shake of his head. “But I’m sure they’ll fill you in on the details when they speak with you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Leora set down the biscuit before she dropped it. The next day was starting to look very busy. “Anyone else want to see me?”
“Actually …”
Leora didn’t like the sound of that. “Actually what?” she said haltingly.
Theron sighed. “Mrs. Rutherford stopped by as well.”
“Mrs. Rutherford? But she was at rehearsal. Mrs. Pleet and I watched her leave.”
“She left, walked around the side of the church and straight to my office door.”
“Why didn’t she use the one that leads into your office from the sanctuary?” Leora asked, perplexed. “Oh, wait – I bet I know why. She complained about me, didn’t she?”
He glanced at the ceiling before answering, as if asking God to get him out of it. “Well … she let me know that she wasn’t happy with the rehearsal.”
Leora shook her head in exasperation. “Oh, that woman! It’s bad enough she told me the same thing, but then she goes and tells you? I’ve never seen anyone delight in causing trouble as much as she does.”
Theron’s shoulders shook as he tried to keep from laughing.
“You think it’s funny?” Leora asked, eyebrows raised in astonishment. “You’re not the one who has to deal with her at the rehearsals. Now I know why you didn’t come out of your office!”
Theron could hold himself together no longer. He laughed.