The Scent of Lilacs

by Ann H. Gabhart

  “I don’t have any money, Sallie,” she said when he paused between verses. It only seemed fair to warn him that he was singing for nothing.

  He just grinned bigger and kept singing. Jocie came out of the pressroom to save her. “I thought I heard old Sallie out here. Are you singing for your paper?” She handed him one of last week’s Banners. “We haven’t got the new one out yet. We’re late because of the parade. Come back in the morning, and we’ll have this week’s issue ready.”

  Sallie took the old paper. “Old news is still good news,” he sang.

  Jocie looked over at Tabitha. “Sallie wants to be in the know when he’s singing out the news on the streets of Hollyhill.” Jocie looked back at the old man. “Sallie knows everybody’s secrets, don’t you, Sallie?”

  The old man strummed his guitar and hummed a couple of minutes before singing, “Sallie knows, but Sallie don’t tell. Not in Hollyhill.”

  “Oh, the songs Sallie could sing if Sallie did,” Jocie sang.

  Tabitha kept smiling, but she wished she was on the other side of the street. The old man was staring at her, still grinning that stupid toothless grin, but it was as if he were pulling things out of her mind without her permission. And the smell was getting stronger. Just like she remembered. She put her hand over her nose.

  He laughed again as he tucked the paper up under his arm, slung his guitar around behind him, and went out the door singing, “Rock-a-bye, baby.”

  Her baby did a flip inside her, and Tabitha felt faint. “How did he know that?”

  “He probably just saw a baby down the street and had the song in his head. You never know what old Sallie will sing next. But it was kind of weird, wasn’t it? Me talking about him knowing secrets and then him singing that.”

  “Does he really know secrets? I remember him, but I don’t remember him telling fortunes or anything.”

  “He doesn’t. I just tease him about knowing secrets because he stands out there on the street watching people and eavesdropping when he gets a chance and then sometimes makes up songs about what he hears.”

  “Is he going to make up a song about me?” Tabitha turned even paler under her tan.

  “Not one anybody could put a face to. He’ll probably just sing the Yellow Rose of Texas is having a baby, or maybe just sing Rock-a-Bye, Baby, California T.” Jocie frowned at Tabitha. “You look funny. Maybe you’d better sit down.”

  “I’m fine,” Tabitha said, but she let Jocie guide her to the chair. “Aunt Love says expecting will make you feel light-headed sometimes.”

  Jocie frowned again. “How would she know?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she read a book about it or something.”

  “I guess. But anyway, you don’t have to worry about Sallie. He’s harmless. Really. He wouldn’t hurt a flea. I followed him around and wrote a story about him last year. Dad wouldn’t print it, said it might upset some of his subscribers putting Sallie on the front page. But he did put his picture in the middle along with the lyrics of one of his songs I wrote down. It was good.”

  “What was it about?”

  “I don’t remember. Something about the rain washing all his blues away or Hollyhill away or something away. It’s probably still around here if you wanted to dig through the back issues to find it.”

  “I’m not that interested.”

  “Don’t they have characters like Sallie out in California?”

  “Sure, worse than him, but you don’t know them out there. You just walk past them like they’re nothing more than another trash can.”

  “That sounds kind of mean. I thought you said everybody was all into love out there.”

  “Some of the people I hung out with talked a lot about it, but it’s easy to say love. It’s harder to do love.”

  “Oh, it’s not all that hard to love Sallie the way the Bible says we’re supposed to love one another. Now, giving him a hug—that would be harder. Lots harder.” Jocie picked up another paper and waved it through the air toward the screen door. “When Zella’s here, she has her air freshener out and ready before poor old Sallie can get through the door.”

  After Jocie disappeared back into the pressroom, Tabitha scooted her chair back away from the window. She didn’t want anybody else peeking in at her. She wanted to hide out in the shadows as long as possible.

  After the parade Leigh offered to drive Aunt Love and Tabitha home so David could get started on the headline piece with quotes from the speeches and an overview of the day. Zella went home to eat supper and feed her cat but promised to be back in time to help fold after the run. Wes and Jocie worked without talking to get the stories and pictures laid out and ready. Wes rushed the film through the developer, and they picked three photos for the front page and four more for the back. Of course, the First Baptist float had to be on the top of page one. David had promised.

  Jocie argued for Heather Byrd’s border collie, but it was pushed off till another issue. Marvin Sims on his Appaloosa made the bottom of the front page. David told her he might enter that one in the annual newspaper awards competition come September. By the time they quit picking, about a third of the families in Hollyhill were represented in one picture or another, which couldn’t hurt circulation.

  They were just beginning the run of the front page when there was a timid knock on the pressroom door and Leigh came in with a tray of chicken salad sandwiches on wheat, a bag of potato chips, and a plate of brownies. “Thought maybe you would be hungry,” she said as she looked around for an empty spot to set the tray.

  “Food is always welcome,” Wes said as he pushed some stacks out of the way and cleared a corner on one of the tables. “Right, boss?”

  “Always,” David said with a smile directly at Leigh. Pink touched her cheeks, but they didn’t flame. In fact, David felt heat in his own cheeks when she met his glance with a shy smile. But maybe that was just from being out in the sun all afternoon listening to the mayor and the judge making speeches. Still, he was glad to see Leigh there, glad to feel the way she seemed to belong, glad to hear Jocie laughing with her, surprised to feel that tingle inside his belly that had nothing at all to do with hunger. He rubbed his sweaty palms off on his pants before he reached for one of the sandwiches.

  “You going to say grace, Daddy, or can we just dig in?” Jocie asked.

  “We’ll say grace. It’s been a good day. We should thank the Lord for it and for this food.” David raised his eyes toward the ceiling. “We do thank you, Lord, for the blessings of the day, for the parade and the safety of all those in it. Thank you for our freedom and for the men and women who fought in wars to keep that freedom. Be with our local officials as they lead our town. And thank you for this food and for the one who prepared it. Amen.”

  “And thank you that I didn’t have to listen to the speeches. Amen,” Jocie said before she stuck some potato chips inside her sandwich. “Um, yum. Aunt Love doesn’t believe in wasting money on potato chips, but there’s nothing like a sandwich with a little crunch.”

  “Any kind of sandwich sounds good to me,” Wes said. “Thank you, Miss Leigh. The boss here never thinks about food, so we’d have been out of luck with growling stomachs without you showing up.”

  “Don’t call me Miss, Wes. You make me sound like an old Sunday school teacher or something.”

  “I’d miss my guess if you aren’t a Sunday school teacher,” Wes said between bites.

  “Well, actually, I am, but not your Sunday school teacher.”

  “If you took brownies like this to Sunday school, I might give it a try,” Wes said. “Try one, boss. It’ll make your ears flap.”

  Leigh laughed, and it just felt natural to laugh along with her as he reached for one of the brownies. Jocie shot David a grin, but she kept chewing and didn’t say anything.

  David asked Leigh, “You want to stick around and watch us run the papers?”

  Her eyes lit up. “That sounds like fun. Maybe I could even help a little if somebody would show m
e what to do.”

  She had pretty eyes. Light blue and clear like a summer sky with the sunshine exploding right through them. Funny, he’d never really noticed that before. He reminded himself of how young she was and realized he didn’t know how young that was. He could ask Zella, but age was a touchy subject with Zella. Besides, even if he didn’t know her age, it was obvious she was too young for him. He could just imagine the talk around town if he asked her out. And how in the heck would he go about asking her out? He was way too old to start in with sweaty palms and awkward invitations. So what if he had to wipe his palms off on his pants again. It was hot in the pressroom. It was always hot in the pressroom in July.

  What did people do on a date anymore? He hadn’t been on a date since he’d enlisted in the navy. The girls he’d met in this or that port before he’d married hardly counted as dates. Not the kind where you called up days in advance and took flowers or candy. He’d never even had a date with Adrienne. They’d met one day, run off to get married the next. Not the best way to pick a wife, but he’d been the one picked, not the one picking. Adrienne had thought he was her ticket out of Hollyhill, but he’d had to report back to the submarine and leave her in Hollyhill with Tabitha on the way. Still, she might have gotten him to leave Hollyhill after the war ended if he hadn’t felt God’s hand on his shoulder. That’s when everything changed. Everything but Adrienne.

  So really he’d never had a wife—a helpmate, a partner. He thought of Harry and Floradell Sanders, who worked together every day at their hardware store across the street, or Matt and Dorothy McDermott at Mt. Pleasant Church. Two become one. He’d said it dozens of time in marriage ceremonies. He and Adrienne had promised it, but it had never happened.

  Since Adrienne had left, he’d gone it alone rather than risk failure again. One time was bad enough, but a lot of couples had been stampeded into marriage by the war. Letting it happen a second time would show a serious lack of judgment. And that’s what asking Leigh for a date would be. A serious lack of judgment. A middle-aged man having delusions that he had anything to offer a young woman like Leigh. She needed someone who would give her babies, not grandbabies. Maybe he should tell her that. He knew about counseling people. He was a pastor, after all.

  He’d tell her that he was divorced with two daughters and an aged aunt he was responsible for. Of course, she already knew that. He could tell her that a preacher was pulled in twenty directions at once and often had little energy to spare on his own family. Of course, he might not have a church much longer. He could tell her he was about to be a grandfather. That should give her pause. It gave him pause even while his soul was glad.

  But maybe the best thing for him to do was nothing. Without encouragement, her infatuation with the idea of dating him would surely fade and she’d soon cast her net out for a better fish. He was suddenly hoping her net would be full of big holes.

  She must have been reading his thoughts, because she brought over the plate with one last brownie on it to him. “If you don’t eat it, I’ll have to, and then there will go my diet,” she said with a smile. He took the brownie, and her face glowed a little pinker. “Oh, and by the way, just in case Jocie didn’t tell you and you were wondering, I’m thirty-two. Ages older than Tabitha, if that matters to you. It doesn’t to me.”

  She hesitated a moment. He thought he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Something like “You’re older than you look” or “That’s still years younger than me” or “You’re scaring the heck out of me.” His palms were sweaty again, and now sweat was running down his ribs inside his shirt. Finally he said, “I’m forty-four, almost forty-five.” He felt like a preteen comparing ages. Thank goodness Wes was running the papers and he and Jocie couldn’t hear anything but the press.

  “Yeah, I know. Look, if you’d rather I just disappeared, say so. But I’m not asking for a proposal or anything. Oh gosh, I shouldn’t have said that.” Leigh’s face got redder, but she didn’t drop the tray and run for the door. “I just thought it might be fun to get together sometime. We don’t have to do anything major. It was fun this afternoon, and when listening to the mayor can be fun, it has to be something besides the speeches.” She blew air out of her mouth, and the red on her cheeks faded. “Anyway, I take a walk every morning in the park before I go to work. Maybe sometime you’d like to come down and give me moral support, although heaven knows you don’t need to lose any weight.”

  “But I do go walking a lot in the mornings. That’s when I pray.”

  “We can pray together.” Leigh ducked her eyes at her boldness. “I mean, that is if you want to. I guess you might want to keep your prayers just between you and God.”

  He took pity on her in her embarrassment and his own. He rubbed his hands off on his printing apron and smiled. “Two prayers are surely better than one. I’d like to come walk with you some morning.”

  “Really? You’re not just saying that because I put you on the spot?”

  “Really. How about tomorrow?” He couldn’t believe he’d actually set a date, but he was glad he had. Her face lit up like a flower opening to the sun. Her eyes were really extraordinary. She’d probably been told a thousand times how pretty she’d be if only she’d lose weight. Actually, the extra pounds didn’t take a thing away from how pretty she was. David wanted to tell her that, but he’d already said too much. Way too much. He felt as if he’d stepped into a rain-swollen river and lost his footing and was being swept downstream with no way to stop himself. He should grab for a limb of sanity, but he kept letting the water carry him away. The really scary part was that he was beginning to enjoy the ride.

  David had to wipe his hands off on his pants again as he picked up the papers off the press and carried them to the big flat table to put the sheets together in the proper order. Leigh watched him a minute and then joined in pulling the papers together. Zella came in a few minutes later and was so excited to see Leigh there shoulder to shoulder with David that she got two black smudges on her nose right away. Jocie laughed so hard she had to sit down for a while, and Wes just kept grinning at David as he pulled the papers off the press.

  The next morning her father had already left for the paper before Jocie got up. He’d told Aunt Love he was going to get breakfast at the Grill and catch up on what was going on in town.

  “I’ll bet he’s meeting Leigh for breakfast,” Jocie said as she tried to stir the lumps out of her oatmeal. Oatmeal for breakfast was almost as bad as cabbage, but at least oatmeal meant she got to have toast, and Miss Pansy at church had given them a couple of jars of strawberry preserves Sunday. That made up for two or three heads of cabbage and a bucket of zucchini.

  Aunt Love looked thoughtful. “He did seem a bit undone this morning. I thought he was worried about Tabitha.”

  “You mean because she’s having a baby?”

  “So she told you. Good.”

  Jocie spread some more strawberry preserves on her toast and studied Aunt Love, who was stirring her oatmeal as if she didn’t like it any better than Jocie. Tabitha hadn’t gotten up yet. “You think people will talk?”

  “Of course people will talk. People always talk. Especially about preachers and their families. As if they weren’t human like everybody else.”

  “I thought you might be upset. I mean, you’re supposed to get married and then have babies, right?”

  “That’s the best way.” Aunt Love put down her spoon and stared at her oatmeal as if she’d lost her appetite. “But things don’t always happen in the best way, and once some things have happened, we can’t go back and change them to the best way.” She looked up at Jocie. “But it’s my belief that every child the Lord sends is a gift, and even when things aren’t as they should be, God can make a way out of no way.”

  “Is that in the Bible?”

  “Many times in many stories. Remember how the angel Gabriel told Mary, ‘With God nothing shall be impossible’?”

  “Yeah, and what was that Dad preached about
one time where Jesus said a camel could go through the needle’s eye?” Jocie frowned. “I just can’t imagine that no matter how I try to put my mind around it. I can barely get a piece of thread through a needle’s eye.”

  “ ‘With God all things are possible.’ Matthew 19:26. But that’s the key, child. Only with God. Only with God. We have to put our trust in him.”

  “Do you think the Mt. Pleasant folks will kick Dad out when they find out?’

  “Who can say.” Aunt Love got up and scraped her oats into Jezebel’s bowl. Jocie wondered if she could get away with giving hers to Zeb. Probably not after the four spoonfuls of sugar Aunt Love had watched her stir in. “But if they do, it will be their loss.” Aunt Love straightened up and looked out the window. Suddenly she smiled. “So the girl got him to notice her. What did you say her name was again?”

  “Leigh. Leigh Jacobson.”

  “I can’t remember any Jacobsons.”

  “She’s from Grundy, but she’s the judge’s niece or cousin or something.” Jocie shoveled in a few bites of oats just to get it over with.

  “Oh, I’ll bet she’s Polly Wilson’s granddaughter. I used to go to church with Polly. A fine woman. She died a year or so back. Cancer, as I recall. Everybody dies from cancer.”

  Jocie choked down another bite of oatmeal and wondered if Aunt Love would notice if she added more sugar. It could be Aunt Love had already forgotten the first four spoonfuls, but you never knew with Aunt Love. Some things she forgot right off and others she remembered. Like what Leigh’s grandmother died from. Old people were always trying to figure out what people died from or how many sisters and brothers they had and what they died from. That made up half the conversations Jocie had to sit through on Sunday afternoons while her father was out visiting.