by Ashton Lee
“All I can say is, I got the chills listening to Connie’s story,” Nora Duddney added. “Actually, all the stories have made me think outside the box about my life. Sounds just like a typical Cherry Cola Book Club meeting, doesn’t it? I’m practically addicted to our get-togethers.”
Maura Beth might have come up with something along those lines herself but was pleased that someone else had actually said it. It might have sounded too boastful coming from her. “This one is turning out to be even more special. Does anyone else have anything to say about Connie’s story before we move on?”
Becca raised her hand, her voice suddenly stressed. “I did a few seconds ago . . . and I hate to interrupt this wonderful exchange . . . but right this moment, I think I’m having contractions.” There was a sharp intake of breath as she put her hand on her belly, and then her Stout Fella quickly stood up beside her, offering his muscular arm to help her up gingerly.
“I’m calling the hospital to let ’em know we’re on the way!” he told everyone as he pulled out his cell phone. “I’ve been rehearsing this in my sleep!”
“Come on, Douglas, we’ll follow them,” Connie said next, moving to Becca’s side in a flash.
“I thought the baby wasn’t due for another four or five weeks,” Douglas added, following close behind. “I’ve had it all marked on my calendar, since I’ll be the proud godfather.”
“Looks like it’s coming early, though,” Becca managed, obviously in pain. “These things happen.”
The meeting was put on hold until the Brachles and McShays had exited the front door to cries of “Text us!” “Call us!” and “Let us know what happens!” For her part, Maura Beth was genuinely conflicted since she was the godmother-to-be and felt more like going to the hospital herself. Once again, she faced the prospect of disbanding a book club event early, but she knew her mother and Cudd’n M’Dear had yet to speak.
Fortunately, Cara Lynn Mayhew seemed to be reading her mind. “Sweetheart, I’m wondering if we ought to call it a night with all this excitement. What I had to say, I can say to you in private. It was just a little essay I wrote about being thankful for having you in my life.”
Maura Beth was thrilled by her mother’s words. “If the rest of you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to hear what my mother has to say. I think it might be the perfect way to bring things to a close.”
Not surprisingly, Cudd’n M’Dear had other ideas, objecting immediately. “But what about my pitch for various charitable causes? Telethons raise a lot of money, you know. They can be very inspirational, and isn’t that what we’re here for?”
Maura Beth was able to think on her feet, however. “What I think you should do, cousin dear, is to leave all the contact information for your favorite charities, and I’ll see that everyone here tonight gets a copy. That way, if they want to contribute, they’ll be able to right away. I’m sure that’s the important thing here.”
“Well, I suppose that’ll have to do,” Cudd’n M’Dear said, though not looking particularly happy about it.
Maura Beth pressed on, realizing that indecision was definitely the wrong move with someone as unpredictable as Cudd’n M’Dear. “Then that’s all settled.” She gestured invitingly to her mother, and the stylish Cara Lynn Mayhew was soon behind the podium with her reading glasses on and looking down at a sheet of paper.
A mother wakes up one morning to find she has a child who is totally dependent upon her. It is a startling discovery since she thinks she is prepared for it. She has been waiting for nine months to greet this new little person in her life. But when her child finally arrives, the responsibility fully registers for the first time. The adventure is just beginning.
When I greeted my Maura Beth, I was astonished that she could be so different from me and the expectations I had for her. First there was the cute red fuzz atop her head, also the blue eyes. Where had they come from? William and I had neither. Our parents didn’t have them, either. Later on, the freckles appeared. It seemed like there were a million of them. And then that free spirit of hers kicked in pretty early on. It was as if a magnificent bird had flown into our lives and was spreading its wings right there in front of us every day. I have to say that it took us a while to realize what was going on, and we were speechless—but in a good way.
I don’t pretend to understand this business of genes—who inherits what and how. More cynical types say it’s just a crapshoot. I only know that William and I were blessed by the combination that came together through us to create our Maura Beth. She has grown into her own woman and made her own valid choices, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for her now. And also the man she has chosen to spend the rest of her life with—Jeremy McShay, our son-in-law. William and I welcome him into our family with open arms.
So I can tell you this much about our daughter: Cherico, Mississippi, is lucky to have her, although some of you already realize you’ve caught lightning in a bottle with this librarian on a mission. May she continue to walk gracefully toward her destiny. We will always love her and what she has brought into our lives.
As they had just before her wedding had taken place on the deck of Connie and Douglas’s lodge, mother and daughter embraced warmly, now fully connected on every level. Then Maura Beth pulled back slightly and managed a halting, emotional response. “What you’ve said . . . means the world to me. Thank you so much . . . for coming all this way to say it.”
The rest of the gathering responded with applause and a sprinkling of “Awws!” as William Mayhew moved forward to put his arms around the two important women in his life.
“Photo album op, please!” he declared, handing over his smartphone to Jeremy after shaking his hand. “This is our payoff!”
Maura Beth allowed herself to bask in this special family moment. How things had turned around for her since the wedding! But it did not take long for thoughts of Becca and her baby to return. This latest meeting of The Cherry Cola Book Club needed to be officially disbanded so she and Jeremy could lend whatever support they could to the Brachles at the hospital.
21
Botulism and Populism
Was there anything more draining than the impersonal hospital waiting room game? Why, the number of worst-case scenarios the brain could conjure up was absolutely astounding!
Maura Beth and Jeremy had been sitting in the midst of her parents, Cudd’n M’Dear, Connie, and Douglas at the Cherico Memorial ER for a good half hour. Though there was no news yet on Becca from her Stout Fella, the comings and goings of Councilman Sparks’s lackeys—Chunky Badham and Gopher Joe Martin—aroused more than a little curiosity among the group. First one and then the other councilman would enter through the sliding glass doors, briefly inquire at the desk, disappear inside the ER for a time, and then exit hurriedly, looking totally distracted and wild-eyed. There were moments when it all came off like a rehearsal for a classic stage farce with some unseen director demanding frantic energy levels.
“What do you suppose they’re up to running around like headless chickens that way?” Connie said, unable to restrain herself any longer. “Surely, it can’t have anything to do with Becca, can it?”
Maura Beth spoke up with absolute certainty. “I highly doubt it. When it comes to the activities and priorities of those two, it’s never about anyone but our beloved Councilman Sparks.”
“What would that so-called man of the people be doing in the emergency room? Doesn’t everyone come to him?” Cudd’n M’Dear added, tossing aside the medical magazine on recipes for diabetics she had been skimming to make the time go by. “Besides, you’ve led me to believe he doesn’t even have a drop of blood in his veins, Maura Beth.”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far, but something is definitely going on.” Then Maura Beth had another thought that immediately softened her attitude. “Maybe it’s his wife, Evie, and he’s back there with her. I just hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Could be a nervous breakdown after living with him all tha
t time,” Cudd’n M’Dear continued, clearly amused with herself.
Maura Beth decided not to humor Cudd’n M’Dear any further. It was so easy for the woman to get out of hand and completely hijack any conversation. “Whatever. I’m just about ready to go over to the desk and find out what’s going on.”
“I’m afraid that won’t do you any good. There are patient confidentiality laws,” Connie said. “You’d have to catch one of the councilmen on his next flyby and ask him about it.”
“Well, they certainly seem to be having no trouble getting all the information they need.”
Just then, Justin emerged, sauntering toward them with a shrug of his wide shoulders. “Hey, it’s just false labor, folks.” He sounded almost matter-of-fact about it all, even managing a big smile. “The doctor says it was brought on by a bladder infection, so he’s giving her a course of antibiotics. That’s way better than a premature delivery, though. We get to keep the bun in the oven a little longer.”
“So everything’s okay?” Maura Beth said.
“Just fine. They’ll be releasing Becca soon.”
Maura Beth’s sigh of relief was dramatic—very much belonging to an expectant godmother. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
“Yeah, she was a little rattled there for a while, but they’ve got her calmed down pretty good right now.”
“Well, it seems we all rushed over here for nothing,” Cudd’n M’Dear added in that judgmental way of hers. “I could’ve made my telethon speech after all, and I had it rehearsed to perfection. I think everyone would’ve been inspired to go out and raise money immediately.”
“But you simply can’t take chances with babies,” Cara Lynn Mayhew said. “Believe me, cousin, when a pregnant woman tells you she thinks that baby’s on the way, nothing else matters.”
“Just think of false labor as a dress rehearsal,” Connie pointed out. “I saw enough of them during my career. They can be a bit unnerving, but usually a case of no harm done. That bladder infection should be no big deal.”
The impromptu drama continued as Justin headed back into the ER to join his wife. But no sooner had he disappeared than a distraught-looking Evie Sparks emerged, heading for the sliding glass doors.
“I’m going to see if I can find out what’s going on,” Maura Beth said, jumping up from her spot on the sofa. But Evie sped up as soon as she saw Maura Beth approaching, staying well ahead until she had escaped into the parking lot. At that point it seemed unwise to continue the pursuit.
“Now I really am curious,” Maura Beth told the others as she returned to them. “At least we know it’s not Evie back there, but she deliberately avoided me. Of course, I’ve always gotten a bit of a cold shoulder from her anyway.”
“I guess we’ll find out about it all soon enough, Maurie,” Jeremy said, as everyone stood up preparing to head to their cars.
“Maybe not. I can assure you that Councilman Sparks is pretty good at keeping things from people. That’s how he operates.”
“Truly a man of the people in the grand tradition of our Huey P. Long,” Cudd’n M’Dear added almost gleefully.
But Maura Beth wasn’t in the mood for trading clever quips. “That may be, but I think our favorite populist could be in trouble back there.”
Cudd’n M’Dear smirked. “Perhaps he’s just getting what he deserves.”
“I think the meeting tonight was an astounding success. Those stories really stuck with me, and I intend to follow through with that Lucianne woman,” Jeremy was saying as he and Maura Beth snuggled in bed after one of their nightly lovemaking sessions. It always took a while for either of them to speak because of the satisfying exertion and the time it took for their pulses to wind down. The honeymoon wasn’t over yet by a long shot.
Maura Beth carefully untangled herself from the warmth and firmness of his muscles and propped herself up on her pillows, biting her lip as she considered briefly. “I think you should. A collaboration could end up helping a lot of people. Meanwhile, I have an idea of my own.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m going to call the hospital and ask for Councilman Sparks’s room. That way I’ll know if he’s been admitted or not.”
Jeremy frowned as he sat up as well. “I’d like to know why you’re so concerned about him. We both know he certainly hasn’t been all that concerned about you all these years.”
“Just humor me,” she told him. “Being out of the loop has cost me dearly in the past. I don’t want that to happen again.”
Moments later, Maura Beth found herself waiting for someone to answer in Councilman Sparks’s room. “He’s definitely there,” she told Jeremy with sudden excitement, holding her cell phone to her ear.
Finally, a female voice said, “Hello?”
Maura Beth boldly pressed on. “Yes, this is Maura Beth McShay. I don’t want to disturb him, but I just wanted to find out how Councilman Sparks is doing. I was concerned when I saw everyone coming and going at the hospital tonight and just wanted to check in.”
There was no response at the other end. A good fifteen seconds passed. It was amazing how long fifteen seconds could be.
“Hello?” Maura Beth repeated. She even wondered if she had lost the connection, but her cell phone told her otherwise.
“Just a minute, please,” the female voice said. There was another long pause. Then, “Miz McShay, Durden has asked me to tell you that everything is just fine, and he appreciates you calling about him. Unfortunately, he just had a little food poisoning tonight—but it’s nothing serious to worry about now. They’re just keeping him overnight for observation.”
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. This is Evie, right?”
“Yes, it is.” But Evie’s tone of voice was definitely on the frosty side. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miz McShay, I’m sure you can appreciate that my husband needs to get his rest, and I’m a little tired myself. Thank you for calling.” Then she hung up abruptly.
Maura Beth gave Jeremy the gist of her conversation with Evie, and he said, “Food poisoning, huh? Must’ve been a helluva case to put him in the hospital. Not to be indelicate, but the few times I’ve had it over the years, I’ve just thrown up, and that was the end of it. Nasty business, though.”
“I suppose they could be telling the truth,” she told him. “My mother got a hold of some bad boiled shrimp once and ended up in the ER down in New Orleans, but I think Evie was lying. I know I surprised her, and something about the time it took her to tell me what was going on just didn’t ring true. I can picture the two of them huddling at the last second to get their stories straight. At any rate, something out of the ordinary put him in the hospital.”
Jeremy shrugged. “At least we know now that botulism will be the official party line.” Then he gave her his most devilish smile and pointed at her. “By the way, nice detective work there. Maybe you should offer your services permanently to Sheriff Dreyfus.”
Maura Beth flashed back to the way she had solved the mystery of Emma Frost and the missing tips and couldn’t help but be impressed that yet another ploy of hers had worked. “Thanks, I appreciate that. Let me know if you ever need my input for something puzzling out at the high school.”
Jeremy looked thoroughly amused, leaning over and gently chucking her on the arm. “Well, I would, but the most mysterious thing that ever happens out there is trying to figure out who eats all the jelly doughnuts in the teachers’ lounge every morning. I mean, none of the ladies ever admits to eating even one. So I guess we must have an overweight ghost.”
Later, as Maura Beth tried to fall asleep, she couldn’t help wondering what had really happened to send Councilman Sparks to the hospital. Her intuition regarding the man had been serving her well as of late, even if it had been hard-won. He was so full of secrets with such a deep, dark side to him, one she had witnessed in their private encounters all too often. Nonetheless, she admitted the distinct possibility that she would never discover the truth in the matter. Some
things were best left alone.
22
Enter Waddell Mack
“Don’t Sell Me Short When I’m Longin’ for You” was not exactly Maura Beth’s cup of tea. But she had promised Periwinkle that she would at least give Waddell Mack’s music a listen before the big dinner at The Twinkle. So Renette had brought her CD player to the library, and the two of them were holed up in Maura Beth’s office listening to his latest hit while Marydell Crumpton worked the checkout counter with her customary efficiency.
“It’s definitely twangy,” Maura Beth said after they’d listened to it for the second time. “I’m not so sure about catchy, though. It just kind of wears me down emotionally the more I listen. My impression is that country music is all about wearing your emotions on your sleeve.”
“I have to admit I don’t listen to much of it,” Renette added. “But what I have when I’m running up and down the dial on the car radio—well, it all seems to be about busted-up romances, and people who are mostly miserable because of it. I did some Googling the other day on my computer. They call it honky-tonk music sometimes. I think that’s some kinda bar, but I’ve never been in one. I was brought up believing nothing good happens in bars.”
“Well, I’m not much on bars, either. But drowning your sorrows by throwing back a couple definitely seems to be the ticket in this kind of music.” Then Maura Beth began writing down some of the lyrics on a sheet of paper to amuse herself.
You don’t know I’m thinking of you most every day,
But I’m just half-crazy and I guess that’s my way,
I wake up each morning with my heart broke in two,
But don’t sell me short when I’m longing for you.
“Periwinkle swears by this stuff,” Maura Beth said, scanning what she had just written and chuckling in spite of herself. “She says her ex got her into it. I guess it’s an acquired taste.”