Watermelon Days and Firefly Nights: Heartwarming Scenes from Small Town Life

by Smith, Annette

  “Okay, Mother,” said Leland, “this is it. Ready?”

  “Why don’t you ride with me in the truck and let Leland drive your car?” said Roy. “I figured we’d get down the road about half an hour, and then we can all stop and get a bite to eat.”

  “No,” said Bessie. “I want to go by myself. You boys go on. Me and Baby are going to be a few minutes behind you.”

  “We can wait, Mom. Me and Roy are in no hurry.”

  The boys didn’t understand. Bessie and Joe had spent their last ten years together in the house, but neither of her sons had ever lived there. They missed their dad, of course, and on this their mother’s moving day, they were both thinking of him. But as for the house? Its walls held sentimental meaning for her, but not for them. Bessie patted Roy on the back. “Son, I’m fine. Really. I just need a minute, that’s all. You boys go on. See if you can’t get my washer and dryer hooked up tonight, will you? That’d be a big help. And careful with that biggest box. It’s got your great-grandmother’s china inside.”

  When Leland and Roy finally climbed into the truck, Bessie moved from the front yard to the middle of the street. The truck was a difficult vehicle to back up, so she helped by motioning Roy, who was driving, to steer a bit more to the right and then a wee bit further to the left. When he finally was backed out and headed the right way, he rolled down the window.

  “You’re coming along soon, right Mom? I don’t want you driving by yourself after dark.”

  “Honey, don’t worry. I’ll only be a few minutes behind you. Promise,” Bessie assured.

  She stood in the street and waved as the truck chugged to the end of the block. She watched it pause at the stop sign, saw the turn signal flash, and then watched the truck make the turn. Even after it was gone from her sight, Bessie stood rooted in the street. She had to will herself to move.

  She was surprised at how much she longed to delay her leaving. All day long she had been anticipating and dreading this moment—the one when she would close the door to the house, get into her car, and drive to Ella Louise. Though she was sure moving was what she wanted to do, was the right thing to do, she couldn’t believe that the time to do it was actually here.

  Inside the house, she moved from room to room, noticing the worn spots in the carpet and the smudges on the walls and woodwork. Had they been there all along? She hadn’t noticed. If only she had more time to clean the carpet, the walls, and the woodwork too! Tears filled her eyes. “It’s only a house,” she told herself. “Brick and mortar and carpet and tile.”

  But memories too.

  In the master bedroom, Bessie leaned against a bare wall and thought of all the nights she’d slept curled against Joe’s warm back. She remembered how embarrassed she’d been when she learned that she snored. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she’d asked Joe after spending the weekend at a women’s church retreat. “Sandy and Gracie were my roommates, and they teased me something terrible. Both of them said I sounded like a grizzly bear in hibernation. They told me they couldn’t sleep for all the noise I made. The second night, I saw them sneak around and stuff their ears with some cotton that Sandy dug out of her bottle of vitamin C. Honey, tell me. Do I keep you awake? Because if I do, I’ll start sleeping in the other bedroom.”

  Joe had patted her on the knee. “No. Of course you don’t keep me awake, and no, you’re not going to sleep in the other room.”

  “But the snoring?”

  “It’s not so loud.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “How long have I been doing it?”

  “I dunno. Couple of years? Maybe more. I kind of like it.”

  “Joe! I’m serious here. Don’t give me a hard time.”

  “I am being serious. The sound of your snoring is comforting to me. On the nights that you don’t snore, I have a hard time falling asleep. I’m so used to it that when you’re gone overnight, it’s too quiet. I lie awake forever before I fall asleep.”

  A dear, dear man. Joe always did have a different way of looking at things.

  Bessie blew her nose. Then she moved from the bedroom to the living room. She stood there for a long while, nose pressed to the sliding glass door, and gazed out at the backyard. The apple trees Joe babied all year long looked like they would yield a good crop of fruit this year.

  She recalled the time when, relaxing in the hammock, she opened her eyes from her Sunday afternoon nap to see something very odd growing in the apple tree overhead. It was an . . . well, it couldn’t be, but it sure did look like an . . . an . . . an orange. An orange growing on a branch in the middle of a bunch of nearly-ripe apples. Bessie rubbed her eyes and struggled to sit up. When she saw that it really was an orange, she nearly tipped herself out onto the ground.

  Not until she had gotten out the ladder, positioned it under the tree, and climbed to the third step did she hear Joe snickering. From his post around the corner of the house, he had eased to where he was now, at the foot of the ladder. “Whatcha doin’, dear?” he asked with feigned innocence. “Bit early to be plucking apples, don’t you think? I don’t believe they’re ripe yet.”

  “Joe,” Bessie said. “Look.” She pointed to the orange, still out of her reach. “Isn’t that odd?”

  “What the—?” he said. “Why, that looks like a . . . well, like an orange growing in our apple tree? Bess! We better call the county agent. Shoot! We’d best call the National Enquirer!”

  Bessie was inclined to agree with him until she looked down and saw that he was struggling to keep a straight face. While she’d been asleep, fifty-five-year-old Joe had climbed the tree and tied the orange to a branch, for no other reason than to see what she’d do.

  That Joe! He had never lost his childlike streak. Kids loved him. Bessie opened one of the kitchen drawers and found half a piece of Big Red gum. She unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth. One of the reasons kids had liked Joe so much was that he always carried gum in his pockets for them.

  Joe and Bessie were the teachers of their church’s Wednesday night four-year-olds Bible class. Early on, they worked out a system. Bessie made snacks, led the children in singing songs, and prepared the craft. Joe’s job was to teach the lesson—which he did with great creativity and aplomb.

  Joe did not believe that a bunch of four-year-olds could be expected to sit in little chairs and listen to a story read out of the teacher’s handbook. No way. Though he had no training in teaching children, he was of the strong opinion that kids learned best by doing, by getting their hands on stuff, by acting out whatever it was they were supposed to learn.

  Which made for some messy, noisy, out-of-the-ordinary Wednesday nights.

  Take, for instance, the week that the children learned about the story of David and Goliath. A bit wary of what Joe might decide to do, Bessie pointed out to him that the teacher’s packet had some very nice flannel-graph figures to use.

  But Joe had something else in mind.

  Before class, he taped sheets of butcher paper together to make a strip more than six feet long and three feet wide. He had never been very good with sticky stuff, and by the time he got the project all done he had used almost the whole roll of tape. After telling the children about how young David had killed Goliath with five stones (in a wee bit too much gory detail, Bessie thought), he put the paper on the floor, lay on top of it, and directed the children to draw around him with black markers. Bessie helped them, and only a few marks got on his socks and (oops!) in his gray hair. Once they’d made the tracing—of him as the giant, you see—Joe rose from the floor, rolled up their creation, and stuck it under his arm. Then he lined up the children and marched the troop of ten toward the outside door.

  “Shhh!” he whispered as the children made their way through the hallways. “Everybody on tiptoe!” The deacon in charge of education was never all that sure about Joe’s unconventional teaching techniques. Joe had come to the conclusion that as far as deacons go, begging for forgiveness was easier than
asking for permission.

  Joe led the children to the playground behind the church. “No, we’re not going to play. At least not yet. Bessie,” he said as the children watched, their eyes wide with wonder, “I’m climbing to the top of the slide. When I get up there, you hand me the tape and the paper. Okay?”

  Bessie had no idea what it was he planned to do. “Careful, Joe,” she said.

  He climbed up like a monkey, then Bessie handed him his stuff. Joe taped the tracing to the top of the slide. Then he got down.

  “Remember how David threw rocks at the giant?” he primed the kids. “That’s what we’re going to do too! See the man hanging from the slide? He’s big isn’t he? He’s a giant, like Goliath. We get to be like David. Everybody got a rock?”

  Oh, they surely did.

  “Good! Now let’s all get the giant!”

  Joe’s lesson was a big hit. Several hits, in fact. There are few things that four-year-olds, especially boys, enjoy doing more than throwing rocks. There was only one glitch in that night’s lesson. Some of the children’s mothers got a bit upset when, in response to the question “What did you do in Bible class?” their little darlings confessed with glee, “We went outside and threw rocks at Mr. Bishop!”

  IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG for Bessie’s stick of gum to lose its flavor. She spit it out. She ended her final walk-through in the living room. Baby, who was sitting by the front door in her carrier, heard Bessie’s footsteps. She began to wail. “Ready to go, are you?” Bessie said. “Guess it’s time.” She picked up her purse, then remembered the keys. Just as she’d promised the house’s new owners, she laid them on the mantel above the fireplace.

  On the threshold, just before stepping out the front door, Bessie turned around and took one last look. From her spot in the entrance hall, she could see past the living room and into part of the kitchen and breakfast nook. Looking the other way, she could see the hallway that led to the master bedroom. “Bye, house,” she whispered.

  Nothing but quiet.

  Then Bessie stepped out and closed the door behind her. She walked to her car, set Baby’s carrier on the floor behind her seat, got in, backed out of the driveway, and did not look back.

  LELAND AND ROY had indeed gotten Bessie’s washer and dryer hooked up. They’d also gone to the store to buy milk, bread, toilet paper, and lightbulbs. Bessie guessed that a person’s needs didn’t get much more basic than that. Once they got all of her furniture moved to where she wanted it, both boys offered to spend the night with her. They thought it best that she have company on her first night in the new house.

  Bessie thought not. No, they should go on home. She was fine. Really.

  And she was.

  After her sons left, Bessie, a night owl, got busy unpacking boxes. She decided she would get as much of her kitchen stuff put away as she could. Being able to make toast and coffee in the morning would be good.

  Where to put what? It was hard to decide. She’d been working for more than an hour when, suddenly, she gasped. Baby! Still in the car!

  “You poor thing! I’m sorry! Did you think I was going to leave you out here all night?”

  Baby was not a happy cat. When Bessie let her out of the carrier, the first thing Baby did was dash across the room and duck under the hide-a-bed, her buttery paws leaving greasy marks on the carpet as she ran. Poor thing. Bessie knew that Baby must be thirsty. Hungry too. She lay down on her stomach so she could see Baby under the sofa. “Here, kitty. Here, kitty. Kitty, kitty, kitty.”

  Baby didn’t budge. Her response to Bessie’s pleading was to hunker herself into a corner and stare out with unblinking, frightened yellow eyes.

  Nothing Bessie did could convince her to come out. After trying and trying, Bessie finally gave up and went back to her unpacking. Not until a good two hours had passed did Baby finally slink from her hiding place to sniff at the bowl of food poured for her. Cautiously, she took a bite. When Bessie approached her, Baby paused to cast an accusing look in her direction. One false move, the cat’s expression said, and I’ll head for cover—just you watch!

  But as she ate, Baby calmed down. “There now,” Bessie said, “that’s better. You’re going to be okay. I am too. It’s going to take us both a while to get used to our new place.” Baby relaxed and even let herself be petted. When she did, Bessie scooped Baby up in her arms. Until Baby appeared to act like this house in Ella Louise was her home, Bessie decided that it was best that she stay in the utility room, which was prepared with fresh water, a soft blanket for a bed, and a litter box.

  Insulted at being confined, however, Baby howled all night, pausing intermittently to lick at the butter between her furry toes.

  She howled most of the next day.

  And the next night too.

  On the third day, Bessie let her out to roam the house, hopeful that she might begin to feel at home. But doing so did not help Baby’s miserable state. Instead of hiding under the furniture, she took to standing at the back door, wailing to be let out.

  Bessie gave in. She opened up the back door and the second that Baby spotted the open door, she dashed out.

  From the doorway, Bessie stood and watched her beloved kitty trot south. When Bessie called her, Baby neither paused nor looked back. Without a doubt, this little feline had a definite destination in mind.

  For several days, Bessie held out hope that Baby would be back. When she got up in the morning, she unlocked and opened her back door, hoping to find Baby waiting for her breakfast. But she didn’t. A whole week passed, then two, and finally three with no sign of Baby. Since she’d heard of animals trekking miles and miles to get back home, Bessie mentioned Baby’s disappearance to her old neighbor, Sandy.

  “No, Bessie, I haven’t seen her. But I promise I’ll keep watch. Still—I can’t imagine that she’d make it all the way back here. Can you? I’m sure sorry that the butter thing didn’t work.”

  Bessie missed her kitty, especially in the evening, when she thought a lot about Joe. But as she got herself settled into life in Ella Louise, she found a lot to keep herself busy, and that helped. Besides getting the house set up like she wanted it, Bessie started planting a garden and she joined the Gentle Thimble Quilting Club, after the ladies assured her that it was okay that she didn’t know how to quilt. They’d be happy to teach her.

  Soon after she moved in, Bessie met her neighbor, a friendly widower named Crow Buxley. He was gentle and kind, and as far as Bessie could tell, harmless enough. She found it helpful to have a man she could call on when she needed help with her yard or her house.

  But still there were times when Bessie was so lonely that she wondered if perhaps she should have stayed in Houston, where at least the house reminded her of Joe. In Ella Louise, there was nothing of his and that made her sad.

  Bessie had lived in Ella Louise for four months when she first spotted the opossum in her front yard. At first she wasn’t sure what it was because the thing scurried out of sight and ducked under the hedges before she got a good look. But then, over the next two days, she spotted it three more times. When she began to hear fierce scratchings and carryings on under her house, she asked around and found out that this was indeed a big opossum year. She was told that opossums were notorious for tearing up a person’s yard and rooting up shrubs and flowers. She needed to get rid of the animal.

  When she told Crow about her problem, he brought over a trap. Bessie didn’t want to do anything cruel. What if the opossum was a mother? What if she had babies?

  “Don’t worry,” Crow assured. “This kind of trap won’t hurt ’em. Scare ’em maybe, but that’s all. If we catch us one, I’ll take it out to the woods and let it go. Won’t be no harm done.”

  That eased Bessie’s mind.

  So four evenings in a row, Crow came over to set and bait the trap. And four mornings in a row, he came back to find that the bait had been taken, but no critter caught. Finally, on the fifth morning, Bessie looked out her kitchen window and, though she was a dista
nce away, saw that this time there was something caught inside the trap. Something black and white.

  Black and white?

  “Crow,” she said when after seven rings he finally answered the phone, “did I wake you? I’m sorry. It’s early, I know, but could you come over real quick? I’m afraid that we may have caught us a skunk.”

  “Sure, I’ll come. Soon as I get my pants—I mean as soon as I get my shoes on.”

  Bessie didn’t dare go outside for fear that she would stir the skunk up, and he would do what skunks do. So she kept watch on its movements from her kitchen window. Best she could tell, the animal kept sticking its foot out between the wires of the cage. That was odd. She sure hoped that Crow would know what to do.

  He did.

  When Crow pulled up in his truck, he didn’t come directly in the house. Instead, he went to check the trap. Bessie was still watching from the window when he motioned for her to come outside.

  She went to the door and stood there in the frame, not sure that she should go out.

  “Come on,” he called. “You need to see this.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Come look,” coaxed Crow.

  She eased down two steps.

  “Bessie, your skunk isn’t a skunk at all. We’ve caught us a cat. Black and white like a skunk, but just a pretty little cat.”

  A cat? Baby? It couldn’t be!

  But it was. Baby had lost weight and her coat was dull, but there was no doubt. She had come back!

  “You mean this is your cat?” said Crow. “The one that ran off right after you moved here? Bessie, that’s been what, three months?”

  She couldn’t believe it either. When the two of them sat in her kitchen, watching Baby gobble down her second can of tuna, Bessie said, “Crow, when this little kitty left, she headed straight south. She was so unhappy here and so determined to leave that I just gave up and let her go. When a week had passed with no sign of her, I knew she wasn’t coming back. What I figured was that she got killed trying to get back to our old house. What I hoped was that she got tired and took up with someone kind along the way. I never, ever expected her back.”