Mercy Me
Page 16
He knew all about me, he said. I could’ve said the same about him, but I didn’t. He seemed shy, so I asked him about his work.
“Well, I was in the exterminating business, but I sold it today. That’s why I’ve come over here. I want Beatrice to celebrate with me—go out to eat at the fish camp.”
“That’s nice,” I said. “You two can go out on the town. There’s plenty of leftovers for me here.”
“Oh no. We’ll want you to go with us.”
I smiled. “Well, we’ll see.” I couldn’t think of anything more to talk about. I wished Beatrice would hurry up and get home. I settled back in the recliner.
Finally, he ventured, “I got my price for the business—more’n enough to settle my affairs.”
“That right?”
“I’m going to ask Beatrice to help me pick out an RV.”
“That’s nice.”
“Maybe not a new one . . . there’s a good used one I’ve looked at . . . not many miles on it.”
“I see.” For the life of me I couldn’t think of anything more to say except that Beatrice ought to be home soon.
“I wish she’d marry me.” Right out of the blue, he said it!
“Well, why won’t she?”
“I think it’s . . . well, I dunno.”
Well, I could see plain as day that I had to help this man. “Carl, is there a wig shop in town?”
“Sure, we got a wig shop.”
“What would you think of going downtown to that shop and buying yourself a rug?”
He didn’t need a minute to think that one over; he was quick to answer. “Esmeralda, I’ve thought about that a thousand times! But I just can’t settle it in my mind that the Lord would be pleased. It seems like it’s pure unadulterated pride makes a man get a toupee.”
“Well, what’s the difference if you do a comb over or if you wear a rug? It’s one and the same thing when you come right down to it. We women get perms and use everything we can get our hands on to look our best. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look your best. After all, we are the temples of the Holy Spirit. Carl, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but that pigtail of yours is not a decoration, it’s a detraction from whatever good looks God has favored you with.”
I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. “You mean . . . you mean—”
“I mean it don’t look right for a Christian man to go around looking like a leftover hippie.”
He sat on the couch, twirling his cap with his finger and looking kind of excited. “Esmeralda, I never thought of it thataway. Tomorrow morning I’m going to the barbershop, and after that I’m going downtown to that wig shop.”
I could hear Beatrice at the door fishing for her key. Carl got up to open the door for her, and I tell you the truth, he looked like he could eat her up.
She gave him a worried little smile. “Hello, Carl. Hello, Esmeralda.” She laid her pocketbook on the sofa and started for the kitchen. “Esmeralda, you talk to Carl while I get supper ready.”
“Beatrice, you’re not cooking tonight!” Carl said. “I sold the business today, and we need to celebrate. I want you and Esmeralda to go out to eat with me.”
“Oh, that’s good. Did you get your price?”
“Yes. And I want you to go with me to pick out an RV.”
A funny little frown clouded her face. “Well, you see, it’s like this . . .”
I popped out of that recliner. “Carl, will you excuse us a minute? Beatrice, let’s go in the kitchen.” I led her into the other room and closed the door behind us. “Percy’s gone. He left this morning before daylight.”
“What do you mean, he’s gone? What did you do to—”
“I didn’t tell him to leave, if that’s what you mean.”
“Then why did he go?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “He left of his own free will.”
Well, I was surprised at the way she took it. She just plain looked relieved. “Well, I guess there’s nothing left for me to do except pray for him.”
The three of us went out to dinner that night, and when we came home, I went to bed and left them sitting in the living room, talking.
Carl didn’t leave until midnight. When Beatrice came to bed, she thought I was asleep and shook my shoulder. “ Esmeralda, are you asleep?”
“No,” I said.
“Esmeralda . . . I’m going to marry Carl.”
“Oh? When?”
“As soon as this buyer’s loan goes through.”
I sat up and gave her a hug. “Oh, Beatrice! I’m so happy for you.”
“I am too,” she said and laughed a little. “Carl says he’ll have money enough to pay all my medical bills, as well as buy the camper. Do you think I should let him pay my bills?”
“I don’t see why not. What is money for except to pay bills?” And I laughed.
Beatrice laughed too. “Carl said with what money we have left over and Social Security, we’ll be able to travel.”
“Well, Beatrice, I can’t wait to tell all your friends in Live Oaks! We’ll throw you the biggest wedding the town has ever seen!”
“Oh, I dunno. We don’t want to spend a lot of money on a wedding.”
“You won’t have to spend a lot. Just leave everything to me! I don’t suppose you’ve decided where you’ll go on your honeymoon?”
“Oh yes. We’re going to the Grand Canyon.”
On that bus going home, I had a lot to go over in my mind. You might think I would be all caught up in making plans for Beatrice’s wedding, but that was not uppermost in my thoughts. The thing I kept turning over and over was that conversation Beatrice had with me when I first got to her apartment. I’d always thought pretty well of myself, but those things she’d reminded me of . . . well, back then, I must’ve been a real warhorse.
I wasn’t so sure I was much different now, though she said I was. Those first things she’d told me had hurt a lot. But I didn’t hold it against her. In fact, the Bible says, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend.” And the things she said about my changing, well, that was a comfort.
As I rode on that bus going home, I began to understand how the Lord used that cross I’d carried for all those years. I hated to think it took that much suffering to make changes in me, but at least all that pain had not been wasted.
I knew I had a long way to go yet. A long, long way. I hoped I wouldn’t ever rest on my laurels and think I had arrived. After all, once a body stops changing, it comes to rest, and you know what that means—you’re outta here, six feet under and pushing up daisies.
Margaret A. Graham is the author of seven nonfiction books, one juvenile work of fiction, and two novels, including Katie. She conveys her deep love of the Scriptures as a speaker, Bible teacher, and newspaper columnist. Graham resides in Sumter, South Carolina.