by Ashton Lee
“Well, I did like the book for the most part, but I think it was a bit overdone—even contrived at times,” Mamie declared, puffing herself up as usual. “I’ve always known exactly who I was and where I belonged!”
“Good for you!” Miss Voncille snapped back, dropping her fork to her plate for emphasis. “I’m sure you arrived at the hospital ready to hit the ground running and deliver the valedictorian speech at Cherico High!”
Mamie’s expression indicated that she was about to go on the attack when James Hannigan spoke up emphatically to steal her thunder. “Well, I sure didn’t know where I fit in. I was the youngest of six Irish Catholic brothers, so I was the one who everybody picked on. It was also a ‘take a number’ situation for me most of the time. Stand in line for the bathroom, wear my older brothers’ hand-me-downs, fight for time to get a word in with either my mother or father when I had a problem, and on and on. I remember feeling overwhelmed long before I was twelve and wondering if I would ever amount to anything.”
“Frankie Addams wonders that, too,” Maura Beth pointed out, falling back on the notes in her head. “Finding your place in the world isn’t easy for anyone—that is, if we’re honest with ourselves.”
Unexpectedly, Mamie switched from bombastic to defensive. “Was that meant for me, Maura Beth? Are you implying that I was fibbing about my confidence at the tender age of twelve?”
But it was Marydell who stepped in and answered quickly. “But you were fibbing, Sister. You were a nervous wreck all the time about your piano and voice lessons back then. You told me you wanted to have the sweetest voice in the church choir, but as it turned out, you had a voice like a bullfrog. If they’d given out awards, you would’ve won something like . . . oh, Best on a Lily Pad.”
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Marydell? My teacher, Miz Lola Clinton, couldn’t coax it out of me, that’s all!” Mamie protested, nearly coming out of her seat. “I had one of those difficult alto voices!”
“Ha! Off-key is more like it. Everybody in town swore by Miz Clinton, and you know it, Sister. She wasn’t the one at fault.”
“When you don’t carry the melody, sometimes you don’t think you can carry any tune. I had to learn that the hard way!”
“Let’s try to stay on the subject of our review, ladies,” Maura Beth said as calmly as possible.
“Very well,” Marydell replied, looking suddenly impish. “Frankie Addams had dirty elbows, and my sister, Mamie Eloise Crumpton, had the voice of a frog, and that is why she is about to croak.”
Gasps and titters simultaneously filled the room. For her part, Maura Beth suddenly came to the realization that Marydell Crumpton was now overflowing with opinions just like her sister always had been. The sleeping dog had been awakened and was now enjoying hearing itself bark, making up for lost time. All the more reason for Maura Beth to keep this latest meeting of The Cherry Cola Book Club under control and not let it get away from her as she had too often in the past.
“Enough about frogs and elbows, ladies. We need to chill out a bit here. May I suggest you resolve this in the privacy of your own home?”
Mamie seemed somewhat chastised but still maintained her haughty posture as she continued. “Oh, the words people use these days! Chilling is for food in the refrigerator, my dear. But anyway, what about going back to the significance of shelling peas? That was my original comment, and I think it was a good one.”
“Yes, it was,” Maura Beth added, clearly seeing the way to keeping the peace. “Let’s examine it a little further. I do think Mamie has a valid point to make here. It’s my opinion that shelling peas for the Addams household to eat is Berenice’s way of displaying her affection for the family—actually one of many ways she does it. Anyone care to comment on that?”
It was Becca who ran with the request. “Well, if you think about it, shelling peas takes a lot of patience. And Berenice needed boatloads of patience to deal with Frankie’s fantasies and threats to run away from home—not to mention little John Henry’s constant whining and complaints.”
“Yeah, but that Berenice didn’t have the patience when it counted,” Justin Brachle pointed out. “She didn’t listen to John Henry when he said his head hurt that time. She didn’t believe him is the way I read it. And then the poor little kid ended up dying from meningitis.”
“He cried wolf once too often,” Connie continued. “She had tuned him out over the years, and it ended in tragedy. But it was sweet the way Berenice had that cute nickname for John Henry, calling him Candy.”
“Shelling peas can be fatal sometimes,” Miss Voncille observed. “Didn’t Idella in Driving Miss Daisy keel over while doing just that?”
“Now you know good and well that that wasn’t what did her in, Voncille!” Mamie added. “It was just her time to go. She could just as easily have been washing the dishes!”
Maura Beth allowed herself a moment of rare satisfaction where the book club was concerned. Everyone was pitching in and doing the book justice, even if some of the exchanges were a bit trivial and heated. The notes in her head were serving her well now.
“So how did y’all view Frankie’s attempt to go on the honeymoon with her brother and his bride?”
“It’s the heart of the story, of course,” Jeremy said, entering the discussion for the first time. “Frankie so desperately wants intimacy of some kind in her life that she obsessively attaches herself to her brother’s wedding. The concept of a third wheel hasn’t occurred to her yet. None of us likes to think of ourselves that way, but it happens. It sneaks up on you most of the time. That part of the novel is very painful to read—imagine if you were witness to a twelve-year-old being pulled out of the backseat of a honeymoon getaway car. At that point she’s just a lot of background noise and clatter—like the tin cans that have probably been attached to the back bumper.”
“Calling someone background noise is rather cruel, I think,” Mamie said, eyeing Jeremy with skepticism.
“You should know, Sister,” Marydell added. “You’ve called people much worse than that over the years.”
Finally, Mamie shot up from her seat, dropping her paper plate with its half-eaten chicken breast to the floor with a muffled thud. But instead of taking on her sister any further, she directed her hostility toward Maura Beth. “I think I’ve had just about enough of The Cherry Cola Book Club. I’m positive my sister wouldn’t have turned into such a loose cannon but for all this outside-the-box prodding you’ve done, Maura Beth. Marydell simply won’t shut up around the house anymore. She’s driving me crazy, and it’s all your fault. You’ve created a monster!”
“Tit for tat, Sister!” Marydell replied, wagging her finger as Mamie grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
“Oh, let her go, Maura Beth,” Miss Voncille said, barely able to suppress her amusement. “She’s stormed out of a few of my ‘Who’s Who in Cherico?’ meetings just like that. She’ll be back as if nothing ever happened. You just wait and see. She craves the spotlight too much.”
Mamie turned on her heels, staring down her rival. “I most certainly will not be back. Y’all can eat all the picnic food and review all the books you want until there’s nothing left to cook and read, but you’ll do it without me!”
And then, over Maura Beth’s sincerest protests, Mamie was gone.
“Well, I certainly didn’t see that coming,” Maura Beth said, as everyone else sat stupefied.
“I didn’t either,” Marydell added. “And I’m truly sorry to have caused such a big row.”
At the moment Becca was glancing at the second helping of her own green pea recipe on her plate. “Who knew veggies could be so controversial? Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t fixed them. But the truth is, I’ve had this incredible craving for them lately, haven’t I, Stout Fella?”
Justin smirked. “She’s tellin’ y’all the truth. Our freezer has practically nothing in it but those plastic packages of frozen green peas. I halfway think we’ve cleane
d out The Cherico Market. I betcha anything Mr. Hannigan over there has had to reorder out the wazoo. Well, at least Becca doesn’t put them on her chocolate ice cream and baked custard when her sweet tooth kicks in.”
“But I wouldn’t hesitate to if that’s what the baby needed. They say that’s how those cravings work, you know.”
A wave of much-needed laughter swept across the room, and then Maura Beth said, “I hope no one else is going to walk out like that. I’ll say this much. Mamie Crumpton is just about as headstrong as Frankie Addams was when it comes to making impulsive decisions.”
“Trust me. She’ll be back,” Marydell insisted. “Probably not tonight. But eventually. She won’t want to miss the opportunity to let everyone know what she thinks about everything under the sun—which she thinks rises and sets on her. Why, what would we all do without that?”
But Maura Beth was determined not to let it happen again. Another Cherry Cola Book Club meeting was simply not going to be derailed by something unfortunate and unforeseen. No heart attack, thunderstorm, or people storming out incensed—none of those would send the rest of the members to the exits early. This time, her ace in the hole was the idea that had been intriguing her for so long. She was convinced that not only the club but also the entire town needed it very much.
“With or without your sister, we’ll continue to be a force to reckon with,” Maura Beth began, putting her plate on her chair and taking the podium at last. “We’ll continue our discussion of The Member of the Wedding in a few more minutes. But first, I wanted to run something else by all of you. I’ve been thinking about mentioning it before now. We know that our little town is going through a rough patch. We thought we had the Spurs ’R’ Us factory coming to the new industrial park, but it looks as if that’s going to fall through. Some more of our stores and businesses are closing downtown and all around, and some of our citizens are moving away to find better jobs. We’ve even had a bit of criminal activity that we haven’t been able to figure out yet, and it’s got us all wondering what’ll happen next to disturb our peace of mind.”
Here, Maura Beth couldn’t help but pause, remembering what she now suspected to be true. But it was only for an instant, since she had not yet had the showdown with Emma to prove it.
“So, what would y’all think about holding a special meeting of our club in December to buck up our spirits? My idea right now is that we don’t actually review a book. We would still bring our potluck dishes, of course, but this time, we’d all exchange inspirational and spiritual stories. Something to lift us up and get us all on the same page and pulling together. They say there’s power in that kind of group effort. Now, don’t misunderstand. I’m not talking about holding a religious service here at the library. Our churches can do that quite well. This would be an ecumenical exchange of anecdotes and stories that would make us feel good about ourselves and Cherico as we wind up this year and move into another one. Any reactions?”
Becca was the first to clasp her hands together. “Oh, I love the idea. You have my vote!”
“Mine, too!” Connie cried out.
“Are you asking for any spooky experiences we’ve had?” Miss Voncille said. “I’m not sure I’ve seen any apparitions.”
Maura Beth maintained her good-natured tone. “Oh, no. We’re not going to be telling ghost stories like we were sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows at summer camp or anything like that. I meant that we should share experiences that have perhaps changed our lives in some way. Things that have enabled us to glimpse the big picture, so to speak.”
Miss Voncille cocked her head smartly. “And what is the big picture, Maura Beth? Sometimes I wish I knew what it was for certain. But I can tell you that I distrust people who walk around saying they have all the answers while looking down their noses at you because you don’t believe as they do. I started out life as a Presbyterian, but I’m not sure where or what I am now. I don’t feel bad about that, either. Live and let live is pretty spiritual in my book.”
“We don’t have to come to any definite conclusions on our spiritual views. There are so many to choose from. It’s one of our greatest freedoms. That’s the American way, isn’t it?”
“Well, do you want any outright denominational experiences?” James Hannigan added. “I mean, I have a funny story I can tell about my First Communion after trudging through catechism. It’s not exactly uplifting, but it definitely is funny. At least it is now in retrospect.”
“Save it for our meeting, then,” Maura Beth told him, nodding approvingly. “I just think we should have a free-form get-together where everyone’s insights are welcome. I’d be willing to bet the time of the year will bring out the best in all of us. We could even think of it as our very own Cherry Cola Christmas party—but without the foolishness that usually happens on such occasions.”
“That’s refreshing—an intellectual, inspirational, spiritual Christmas party. I’m all for it,” Marydell said. “And when I tell Sister about it, I can guarantee you she won’t want to miss it.”
“Then how about a display of hands?” asked Maura Beth. “Those in favor, raise ’em up high.”
Everyone present followed through, and there were no dissenters when Maura Beth asked for them.
“Good deal. So the next thing we need to do is pick out a date. I’ve been looking at the calendar, and I think we need to go with something in early December so as not to conflict with any organized church activities later in the month.”
Nora Duddney raised her hand again. “Don’t forget about December 7th. Pearl Harbor Day. We don’t want to conflict with that, either—just in case there’s some veterans’ celebration or something.”
“Good catch, Nora.”
When it was all over and done with, December 6th had won the vote for the meeting date, and Maura Beth said, “Becca, I want you to be honest with us. Are you still feeling up to coordinating the food assignments for us?”
Becca rubbed her growing belly gently, something she never tired of doing. There were times she could have sworn she could feel the baby’s life force flowing into the palm of her hand. “Oh, I believe so. All I think about these days is food, food, and more food. Stout Fella knows where to find me when he gets home from the real-estate office. Tell ’em, honey.”
Justin snickered, nodding agreeably. “She’s always hypnotized in front of the refrigerator, lettin’ all the cold air escape. No tellin’ how long she’s been there when I walk in and bring her outta the trance.”
“I can’t make up my mind, that’s all. I just know the baby needs this vitamin or that one, and I hunt and peck on the shelves until I find it.”
“And if we don’t have it, I have to go jump in the car and get it,” Justin added. “I think that’s the time-honored way for all husbands.”
“That’s the way it worked out for me,” Douglas added, enjoying a chuckle. “With Connie, she just had to have those little pearl onions you put in martinis. I have no idea what that was about.”
Connie perked up considerably. “The sodium, maybe? I remember I put salt on everything when I was carrying Lindy. Even on desserts.”
“She was just ahead of her time,” Douglas said, gently squeezing his wife’s arm. “Now, they put a dash of sea salt on just about everything sweet—even ice cream. They get away with calling it gourmet, too. I think what happened was, somebody spilled some salt while they were whipping up a dessert somewhere and tried to make the best of it.”
“Well, if somebody’s pregnancy cravings have led them to an ‘Aha!’ moment or some other insights worth sharing, we’ll be happy to hear about them on December 6th. And be sure and spread the word—this could very well attract new members who weren’t interested before.”
Maura Beth felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment as The Member of the Wedding review continued and the evening began to wind down. Now that Mamie Crumpton was no longer there to stir things up, everyone was able to contribute their insights in a friendly manne
r. The give-and-take was completely under control. Maura Beth also noted with some relief that this was the first Cherry Cola Book Club meeting that had not been dismissed early as the result of some controversy caused by such culprits as Councilman Sparks, the mysterious Sarah Key Darwin, and even Maura Beth’s meddling mother, Cara Lynn Mayhew. Or a medical crisis in the case of Justin Brachle. Even so, Cherico and many of its citizens were hurting and needed to feel better about themselves as the holiday season approached.
Would the December 6th meeting be just the balm they all needed?
8
A Short Walk to the Truth
It was one of those autumn days in the northeast corner of Mississippi that couldn’t decide where it belonged: just enough warmth to imitate spring or summer, but not nearly enough chill in the air to pull off genuine winter weather. Halloween had come and gone uneventfully, and November would be staging its big Thanksgiving number in a couple of weeks. Meanwhile—and only after carefully considering any number of face-saving alternatives—Maura Beth believed it was past time for the truth to emerge. Not that the neighborhood watch posters Sheriff Dreyfus and his deputies had posted all over town were necessarily a bad thing. But her best instincts had been telling her for quite some time now that a genuine crime spree was not something Cherico needed to worry about at all.
“Come walk with me. Let’s go get some exercise together. Miz Marydell will continue to watch the front desk for us,” Maura Beth told Emma after the two of them had eaten their lunchtime homemade sandwiches in the library’s cramped little break room. Maura Beth had brought tuna on wheat, while Emma had fixed ham and cheese on white.
As for the break room itself—it summed up everything that was wrong with Cherico’s woefully outdated library. It consisted of nothing more than an old refrigerator that made terrifying humming noises off and on, a microwave oven whose bell no longer rang when the food was ready, a small wooden table with salt and pepper shakers and a bottle of ketchup in the middle, and a couple of patio furniture chairs for the final mix and mismatch touch! Maura Beth could hardly wait until they moved into the spacious kitchen with its state-of-the-art appliances that she had designed for the new library out at the lake. But that would just have to wait until next summer and the projected Fourth of July grand opening.