by E. J. McCay
Inside the church kitchen slash gymnasium slash extra classrooms, tables of food are lined against the wall along with rows of tables and chairs.
I watch several ladies, Uriah and Bo’s mommas included, hustling around in the kitchen, stirring food, sticking assorted ladles, forks, and spoons in the offered dishes. Mrs. Pendleton throws a quick wave at Uriah and returns her attention to the buckets of food that have been brought in.
In the back of my mind, I’m remembering church potlucks are also a crap shoot and just because it looks good doesn’t mean it is good. My eyes land on a pie with my name on it. If I eat nothing else at this thing, that pecan pie is mine. And then I see the ice cream. After my not-so-heavenly fruit bar and taco this morning, this kitchen is like a veritable smorgasbord making my stomach roll and my mouth water.
Pastor Jeffrey comes walking in, smiling, shaking hands and then his eyes land on me. The smile disappears almost too briefly to catch, but I see it. He continues shaking hands and greeting people until he gets to me and Uriah.
“Well, hello, Uriah!” He slaps Uriah on the back and shakes his hand with an exuberance akin to a jumping bean.
Pastor Jeffrey sets his hands on his hips and looks me over. Up, down and down, up. “Hey, there, Lillian.” His words pause, but his lips look like they’ve got other things to say. “How are you?” I catch sight of Bo and he sidles up beside his daddy. He’s giving me hard looks too.
Bo sticks out his hand to Uriah, and they shake. I’m waiting for them to arm wrestle or bump chests or something, but they drop their hands and just smile at each other.
It gives me time to think for a moment. My brain feels like a mustang rearing and ready to flee. I shrink a little and offer up, “I guess I’m okay.” What else am I supposed to say? I can see people casting glances my way, hoping to hear something so hot their lips can’t do anything but spread it.
Bo locks eyes with Uriah. “You guys sit at our table, okay?”
Uriah smiles broad, and slaps him on the shoulder. “We can do that.”
I see the way they’re looking at each other. “Maybe we could get a plate and sit outside,” I blurt out.
“Nah, when I came in, rain was falling sideways,” Bo says.
Inside I feel like a coyote caught in a leg trap. There’s no point in fighting it. I’m sitting at the preacher’s table and there’s not a diddly thing I can do about it.
The place is nearly packed at this point. Pastor Jeffrey whistles like he’s calling for a cab, and the room simmers down. He makes a short speech about Jesus, the last supper, and some kind of fundraiser for VBS going on this summer. How he managed to link those three things together is lost on me.
He points his finger and calls on Mr. Marlin. As he walks past me, his cologne bites my nose and I nearly double over. That memory, hiding in the folds of my lobes, tries to screech to the front. Uriah says something about the color in my face. I can’t hear him, though, my heart hammers so hard all I can hear is thump, thump, thump. Someone opens the door and a blast of wind rips through the room. The smell and memory leaving as fast as it hit.
I stare in the direction of Mr. Marlin and frown, not knowing why. Everyone bows their head, but Uriah. I can feel his stare boring a hole in the side of my cheek. Mr. Marlin waits for everyone to close their eyes and then he steals a glance my way.
Instantly, the hairs on my arms stand up, my head swims, and my breath is caught in my lungs. They feel like they're about to explode by the time I rip my eyes away from his. None of this exchange is lost on Uriah and I know, I just know, our truck ride home will be filled with questions I can’t answer yet.
When Mr. Marlin finishes, he takes his spot in the front of the line and the rest of us bricks get in line. My appetite seems to have gotten lost somewhere between the lawn and the blessing, but I fill my plate with things that seem safe. I’m still eyeing that pie.
Instead of just taking my plate full of food to the table, I make a beeline for the dessert table with Uriah following behind me. I cut a slice big enough to fill whatever the food laying in the plate won’t.
He leans down, his lips inches from my ear, and says, “Is that piece big enough for two?”
I shoot a quick glance at him and cut another slice. He looks at me with laughter in his eyes, and a smile on his lips. I slap the pie on another plate. “There’s your piece.”
Uriah throws his head back and laughs. His shoulders bounce up and down and I can’t help but laugh with him.
We walk to the preacher’s table, Bo’s mama is walking down the other side and sits down at the same time we do. I look back over to the kitchen and Uriah’s mom is washing dishes. She looks like she might almost be done, and I see Mrs. Jeffrey place her purse in the chair next to hers. That’s church lady speak for this chair’s taken.
Mrs. Jeffrey looks between me and Uriah and then to Bo. I may not have been in church the last fifteen years, but I know that look. That look’s what you get when you're going with someone and you shouldn’t be.
“Lillian, I see you found Uriah.”
Uriah speaks up, “Well, actually, I found her. Bumped into her yesterday on the sidewalk.”
She looks at Bo who won’t look at me at all. He’s told her something and that something has me in a world of trouble with his momma. If he comes to my cabin for lunch tomorrow, I’m gonna take a switch to him and make him spill as to why his momma keeps giving me the stink eye.
“I hear you had a talk at the school today, Bo,” Uriah says. This tension isn’t lost on him at all.
Bo finally looks up from his plate. “Yeah, sixth graders.”
“How did that go?”
Bo shrugs. “Okay, I guess.” For a moment, it seems like whatever unspoken sin I’ve committed has been forgotten and Bo’s momma pats him on the arm.
“He’s been talking at the school since he came back from law school. I’m trying to talk him into running for the judge’s seat when Judge Kringle retires.”
My eyebrows shoot up, my mouth hangs open, and I’m left speechless. Judge Kringle is retiring? No way. That man has been a judge since before I was born and I figured he’d just up and die of a heart attack as he was pounding his gavel in court. Just out of the blue, he keels over, gone.
Bo catches my moment of surprise and smiles this sly grin. Like he’s got some more secrets in a box he’s just waiting to let loose.
“You thinking about being a judge? Wow, that’s impressive,” Uriah says.
“I don’t know. It’s just thoughts for now, but I’ve got the education and the experience. Clearly, I can negotiate tough cases,” Bo says and levels his eyes at me.
My pulse jumps because him, his momma, his daddy and Uriah all look at me. Plus a few people on the outskirts of the conversation. Uriah’s momma saves me by sitting down at just that moment.
“Hey ya’ll,” she says and smiles. She reaches over and pats Uriah’s hand. “How’s my boy?”
“I’m fine, momma. You look a little tired, though.”
“Oh, well, ya know.” Her entire demeanor is upbeat and lively. It brings a freshness to the table for which I’m grateful. The smile she gives me is warm and filled with love. “Hi Lillian, it’s good to see you here.”
“Hi, Mrs. Pendleton, how are you?”
“Oh, Jesus smiles on me.” Mrs. Pendleton has said that exact statement every time for as long as I can remember. “How are you?”
I open my mouth to speak when Misty walks up behind her, places her hands on her shoulders, and plants a kiss on her cheek. Judas was sweet too, I think in my head. “Hi, Mrs. Pendleton.” Misty actually sounds genuine.
Mrs. Pendleton twists in the chair to talk to her. Each time Mrs. Pendleton laughs, Misty cuts her eyes to me as if to say, “See, I’m better than you.” She probably is. It’s not like she gutted her daddy at the Thriftway.
The last time Misty cuts her eyes at me I can see her twisty little brain working the hamster overtime. She smiles all sweet, looks at me doe-eyed an
d then lowers the verbal boom. “How’s your daddy, Lillian?”
Of course, she’d pick the moment I’d taken a drink. The color drains from my face. I choke and stutter. I have no idea how my daddy’s doing. I haven’t seen him, heard from him, spoken to him or nothing since that day. I don’t even know if he’s been released from the hospital yet.
Mrs. Pendleton looks at me. Her eyes are full of nothing but love and forgiveness. She looks back up at Misty, not seeming to understand why she’d be so hateful to me. “George is just fine. He got out this morning, and Mrs. Buckner said he’s on the mend. Now, you run along Misty Morning before your mouth gets you in trouble with Jesus.”
Whoa. New and profound love doesn’t seem to cover how I feel for Mrs. Pendleton right at this moment. I try to smile, but my lips wiggle and I feel like I might cry. She reaches over, pats my hand, and takes a bite of mac and cheese.
“Now, as I was walking up to the table, I heard Bo was thinking of being a judge,” she says. The topic has been changed and I’m in the clear for the rest of the evening.
Pastor Jeffrey stands at the table and starts his preaching. No point in moving spots when he’s got the ears of the whole joint listening. Besides, why risk some not quite making it to the sanctuary.
Chapter Ten
Just as I suspected, the ride to the cabin is spent with Uriah asking me about my reaction to Mr. Marlin.
“What happened tonight?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you reacted that way before?”
I think for a moment. He was at Kettlefish. “No, I saw him at the bar yesterday and I thought nothing of it.”
“Then what made you look like you were gonna puke?”
I shake my head and look out the window. Something in the back of my mind itches, and I rub my temples to scratch it. Replaying the moment back, I smell the cologne, see his scraggily smile, and those eyes and I feel the same visceral reaction. My whole body shivers, but I still can’t put together why. My pecan pie is tickling the back of my throat and I swallow hard to push it back down.
“Lills?”
Somehow we’ve driven all the way to my cabin and parked and I’d been so caught up trying to remember I didn’t even notice. “I’m fine.” I pull the handle, open the door, and water splashes to my knees when my feet hit the ground.
Uriah is out of the truck just as quick as I am. He walks me to the door. I make a face and stomp my foot, water sloshing from my shoes. “Dang it. I forgot to go grocery shopping.”
“Did you forget or did you just not want to go to the Thriftway.”
The scene in the store flashes. “I don’t want to go to that store.”
Uriah looks down at his watch. “It closes in twenty minutes. Stay here, I’ll be back in thirty.”
“You don’t…” I start to say but he’s gone before I can finish so I turn and go inside. The heat seems to be okay. With the moon covered by the rain clouds, the house is so dark I almost think it’s spooky.
I guess I don’t have to worry about my PJs being too thin. Not like he could see anything anyway. I go to the bathroom, dry myself off and then switch clothes.
The rain has stopped so I grab a towel and walk out onto the deck to dry my chair off before plopping down. I rest my feet on the railing and open-mouth suck in the moist air. It’s sharp and crisp and clean. It makes my lungs feel like I’m breathing in ice.
“Papa,” I say out loud, “I feel alone. I feel like you’ve left and now I’m just here in this town.” I feel a tug on my heart and Uriah’s face springs to my mind. “Sure, I know. He’s here, but I feel like it’s too late. We had our moment and it’s gone.”
The thoughts and feelings ping around in my head until I hear tires. Uriah doesn’t bother knocking this time, and I hear him grumble when he hits his shin on the corner of the entry table. “Don’t you have any lights?”
“It’s why I needed to go to the store.” I come off the deck, turn the light on, and one little light bulb tries to pierce the darkness. It’s enough that we can see to put the groceries up, though.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
I shrug. “Just forgot.”
Uriah is digging through the bags he’s carried in. “Here, I thought you could use this.” He hands me a little devotional. I look over the cover and smile.
“Thanks. Did you buy this at the store?”
“No, I stopped at the house on my way back. It’s one of momma’s. I thought you could read it or something.”
I flip the little book open, and I can see Mrs. Pendleton has used this little book often. Little notes, pen marks, and sentences are underlined. Maybe some of her wisdom can leap off the pages and settle in my mind. “You sure your momma won’t mind?”
“Shouldn’t, since she’s the one that picked it out.”
The genuineness of the gesture almost brings me to tears. They had both been the kindest to me so far. Not that I’ve had crosses burned in my yard, but when you’ve got accusations and judgment thrown your way, you feel it in your marrow.
Uriah empties the last bag and finishes putting up my groceries. I’ve paid no mind to where things have gone so tomorrow should be fun seeing what all he got. “You wanna sit on the deck with me a while, Uriah?”
My offer catches him off guard. He turns to the fridge and pulls out two long neck bottles. Turns out he thought I might have a craving for grape soda and he’d bought two six packs. He pops the caps off and hands me one. The grape scent floats up and I smile.
I take my chair, lean back and cross my ankles on the railing. Sitting like this makes me feel relaxed. I’m taking in the sights, forgetting my woes, and just enjoying Papa’s big wide world. Even if it is dark, wet, and spooky.
Uriah mirrors me by putting his feet on the railing. We sit quietly for a while. Before long, the crickets and frogs have come out and they are singing up a storm, no pun intended. Breaking the silence, he says, “So, I’ve got six months to get to know you again. Why don’t we pick up where we left off in the truck when we got to church? Tell me about this Papa thing you do.”
I put the long neck to my lips and take a long fizzy drink. “I talk to Papa. I don’t know what much else I can say.”
“What made you start calling Him, Papa, though?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slow. Uriah is looking at me. I can’t see him, but I can sure feel it. “It was a few years ago. I was going to this homegroup thing and one night it just kinda hit me. It had been a few years since I’d been here or seen daddy and I felt so lonely. The name just flitted into my mind and it was like He was talking to me. I started calling Him Papa, and it just took. I’ve called Him that ever since.”
“But you don’t go to church. Isn’t it hard to not have fellowship?”
“Who says I haven’t had fellowship? Papa says where two or more are gathered He’s there too. We’re fellowshippin’, aren’t we? Talking about Papa, listenin’ to his songs,” I say and point to the woods. “Papa doesn’t need buildings and potlucks and crowds. He just needs us and our willingness to listen and love on Hm.”
Uriah clears his throat. “Lills, you always did have a way with words.”
“I don’t have a way with nothin’.” I take a drink and fix my eyes on what I hope is a tree in the distance.
“That’s not true and you know it.”
“I don’t know nothin’ either.”
Uriah’s chair legs hit the deck and he scoots himself closer. I can feel the heat coming off of him and it brings my attention to the fact that it’s kinda chilly. “Lills, look at me.”
“No.”
“Come on, look at me.”
“Why? It’s dark. Not like I can see anything. Neither can you.”
“There’s enough light from the kitchen I can make out a few things and so can you.”
The Borg in my head says resistance is fut
ile and I drag my eyes to his. “What? What do you need to say that needs my direct attention?”
His face is soft in what little light there is. He brushes my hair off my shoulder and looks at me in a way that makes my bones feel all doughy like I could be baked and served with butter. “I don’t know what happened to you Lills. It breaks my heart seeing you hurt so bad. I know we haven’t talked in a real long time, but I love you just as much now as I did back then. I should have protected you from whatever did this to you,” Uriah says, his voice so soft and earnest it makes me ache.
“Uriah, I was serious. I’m broken. My pieces are just jagged and good for nothin’.” I try to keep the desperation I feel out of my voice, but it wavers.
“You know, for someone who talks to Papa so much you sure don’t listen too good.”
I sniffle and drink the rest of my soda. “What would you know?”
“Psalm 118:5: And in my anguish, I cried out unto the Lord and He rescued me by setting me free.”
Something inside of me breaks. The dam of tears I thought I’d already spilled come pouring down my cheeks quicker than I can swipe them away. Uriah gathers me in his arms and I can’t do anything but cry on his shoulder.
Oh, Papa, where have I been that I’ve been so deaf, I think to myself and the tears pour even harder, if that’s possible. I grab onto Uriah with all my might and he holds me even tighter. Maybe my pieces aren’t so jagged that he and Papa can’t fix them.
Chapter Eleven
“I feel like I’ve done this before,” I say sitting in the chair across from Chrissy.
“Maybe it wouldn’t feel that way if you’d actually talk about something,” she says with this look of concern.
“Where’d you learn that face? College?”
She rolls her eyes and scoffs at me. “Lillian James, if I didn’t have a Dr. sitting in the front of my name I’d take you over my knee and give you a wholloping.”
“You better hope your daddy was kin to Hulk; otherwise, you’ll have a good ole fight on your hands.”
Chrissy looks at me stone-faced and then busts out laughing. “That mouth of yours is going to land you in prison or a coffin one day.”