by Kay Shostak
“Maybe we’ll join you. Yesterday was so busy I didn’t get anything put together for dinner today. I’m so glad I told Jordan I couldn’t work today. There’s Griffin. Let me check with him.” She heads back towards him, except on the outside of the rosebushes.
Taking a couple steps to the shade beside the road, I look down toward the back of the library and the row of houses that face the square. The new construction on Missus’ and FM’s house can be seen best from back here. They added an upstairs deck for Will and Anna’s room with a double set of French doors. Of course, Missus already has it lined with flowers; there is a table and sitting area. It’s perfect. Except, except… such a feeling of sadness comes over me when I think of Will. It’ll go away when the baby comes, right? He seems happy, and Anna is sweet. They decided to get married, and he’s a grown man who can make his own decisions. He’s smart, and if that’s what he decided, I’m sure it’s going to be fine.
“Oh, hey, you can see our deck from here. I didn’t realize that.” Will joins me in the shade.
“Hey, you.” I chuck his shoulder. “You weren’t up when we left, although we did leave a little earlier than usual to get Bryan here for the Memorial Day ceremony with the veterans.”
He nods. “Anna didn’t come, so it was easy for me to get dressed and get here.”
I’m surprised by this information. “Oh, she seemed to be feeling better this morning. She got up to say goodbye to Deena and Brad. I know because I saw her then.”
“Yeah, she and Deena really hit it off. They’re both due like the same week.”
I nod down toward their new deck and home. “So, when do we get to see the new place? When will it be ready for you to move in?”
Will shrugs. “Anna’s not getting along with Missus, so we’re kind of dragging our feet. I haven’t even seen it all done yet.”
“Let’s fix that,” Missus says and makes us both turn around. “Come have lunch.”
“Oh, we have plans, I think. Will, you can go.”
Will tips his head and grins, blond hair falling into his eyes. “Now, Missus, you know I can’t see it before Anna.” He reaches out a hand to her, which she leaves hanging. “How about Anna and I come over one night this week?”
“Yes, that will do. Carolina, you and Jackson, too. Tomorrow night for dessert and coffee at seven.” She looks away from us and back up the walk. “Finally, the pastor is done talking to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that wanted to shake his hand,” she says as she steps away from us and on to her next target. “I will see you both tomorrow.”
“Son,” I sigh as I take hold of his arm and look up at him. “Are you sure living with her is going to be all right?”
“Of course!” He acts like this is no big deal at all. “So, Dad said you’re going for Chinese? Can I tag along? I’ll bring Anna some soup and a couple eggrolls. I’m starving.” He backs away and waves, then yells toward the kids gathered in a group on the lawn, “Bryan, want to ride with me?” Bryan and Grant look to Grant’s parents for a minute, get the approval nod, and then dash across the front lawn of the church toward Will and his car.
I walk along the road in the same direction and see Savannah waiting at our car. She has on her purple MoonShots shirt with black shorts. We haven’t let her work Sunday mornings, so she walks over as soon as church is over. Usually, she leaves so quick we don’t see her.
“What’s up?” I ask at the same time that she asks me, “Did you hear? There’s a picket at MoonShots.”
“A picket? Like, protestors?”
“Yes.” Her blue eyes shine with excitement and a little bit of fear. “Jimmy texted me, and so I wanted you and Daddy to drive me down there.”
“Hey, what’s up?” Jackson calls as he gets near our car.
“Savannah wants a ride to work because the store has picketers.”
“No way. What is there to picket in Chancey?”
“Who knows?” I say. “Get in, let’s go see.”
The car is hot, and as soon as we close the doors, we roll down the windows. Savannah is in the seat behind her daddy. As we drive down the street beside the library, we can hear voices, like a chant. Sure enough, there are about a dozen people walking in a circle on the sidewalk and road out front.
Jackson makes the left turn which takes us in front of the library and Missus’ house. As we prepare to turn right onto Main Street beside the park, the chant seems familiar.
“It’s the Lord’s Prayer,” Savannah says.
She’s right. The people are walking in a circle and saying the Lord’s Prayer in unison. One person holds a sign saying, “Keep the Sabbath.”
We pull into an angled spot, and at the same time, from the other direction comes a news van. Great.
We watch as the news van parks and empties. The camera man is only a couple spaces away from us, and as he takes a few minutes to set up his equipment, the dark-haired anchor jogs across the street and walks up to the protestors.
Savannah dials her phone and then says, “Jimmy. There are news people outside the store. Tell Jordan.” She pauses, and we can hear through her phone as the boy yells to Jordan. Savannah adds, “No, they don’t have the camera shooting yet.” She hangs up and opens her car door. “I’ve gotta go help.”
“Wait,” Jackson and I say in unison, but she’s already following the reporter’s path across the street. We see Jordan look out the front door and then watch as she opens the door for our daughter to dart inside. The camera man is filming now. He approaches the front door where the reporter waits with the man holding the Sabbath sign.
“Now what?” Jackson says.
“Wait, I know. Call Will. Tell him to come to MoonShots right now.”
As he dials, I call Susan and tell her to come, too. Andy comes lumbering across the street and waves at Jackson but comes to my window. “Hey, Miss Jessup. You see what’s going on over there?”
“Yeah, Savannah just went in to work. We’re going to go inside and see how things are right now. A show of support for Jordan. Others are coming.” As I open my car door, he scoots back from it. I tell him to call Patty. “She’ll want to come down and support Jordan, too.”
He nods and chews on the inside of his lip. His hands remain plunged in his baggy jeans pockets. I hold out my phone to him. “Want to use my phone? And I don’t care if she’s upstairs, and you were upstairs. Is that what you’re worried about?” He weaves around a bit, pulls one hand out of his pocket to take my phone, but doesn’t push any buttons or open his mouth. He just holds the phone looking down at it.
Suddenly he jerks up his head. Then I hear it. Heels coming down the sidewalk behind me.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“Guess it’s a picket. Of Moonshots,” I say as I turn around. From my time working in the library, I know there’s the Snow Queen in Narnia and the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland. And, now, the Blue Queen of the Southern Mountains. She’s wearing a light blue skirt and jacket, crowned with silver blue hair, and the sparks flying out of her eyes are an electric blue. Andy now actually has a reason to be a mumbling, bumbling idiot. I’d be terrified too, but I’m thinking I’m not Missus’ target this time.
Halleluiah.
“This is not permitted in Chancey. We are not that sort of town. You,” she points at Andy who is still holding my phone, “call the police.”
She turns from him towards me and takes a step closer. I step away from her and into the street. She has on those white gloves, and I’ve seen the damage they can do to mere mortals. “Carolina, where are you going, and why are you here?”
Jackson had left me to deal with Andy, and now from the still chanting picketers, he calls my name and causes me to turn that way. I can hear him because the praying is softer while their leader is being interviewed. With a smile back at Missus, I walk across the street. Behind me, I hear the heels, so I walk faster. Shoot, Andy still has my phone. I look to my right where I left him. “Andy, bring my phone when you com
e inside. Call Patty.” It’s like talking to a bump on a log, though he’s usually a ball of energy. He must not be a morning person.
Closer to the picketers, I realize no one looks familiar. We’ve not lived here long, but I’ve come to expect that I know someone pretty much everywhere I go. They are all dressed for church, looks like. Nothing fancy, but not working clothes. One of the ladies is talking to Jackson, and as I come up, she smiles at me and sticks her hand out.
“You must be Mrs. Jessup. So nice to meet you. I’ve heard all about you.”
“Wow, Jackson isn’t usually that fast of a talker,” I match her smile, but my eyes dart to my husband. Why would they be talking about me?
He closes his eyes for just a moment and shakes his head just the tiniest bit, takes a deep breath, and says, “Carolina, let me introduce you to Mrs. Taylor.”
“The police have been called,” Missus says as the heels joins us.
Mrs. Taylor nods her head and says, “We expected that might happen. Are you Mrs. Bedwell? Anna’s grandmother?”
Missus catches the words almost out of her mouth and replaces them with, “Do I know you?”
Jackson speaks up, “This is Mrs. Taylor, Andy’s mother. The gentleman at the microphone is Reverend Taylor, Andy’s father.”
Missus, Andy’s mama, Jackson, and I all look to the other side of the street where big old Andy stands, still holding my phone. He lifts his other hand in a small wave, but stays on that side of the street.
So he must not be all that stupid, right?
“Who knew they’d take such offense when they don’t even live over here?” Yes, Andy was finally dragged across the street where he stands in the midst of the crowd.
“Son, we’re not offended. The Lord is offended,” Reverend Taylor explains. “We understand the citizens of this town are not allowed to speak their mind about this establishment being opened on Sunday morning, so we stepped in to give them a voice.”
Andy lowers his head and then looks away.
Jackson asks, “Why do you think the town isn’t allowed to speak its mind?”
“Well, son, isn’t that want you said?” asks the big man with the gray suitcoat on. His red hair isn’t as bushy as Andy’s, and it’s plastered down with perspiration. His face is flushed, but not in anger. Just the hazards of being a big, pale man with red hair, wearing a suit coat, shirt, and tie, standing outside the last weekend of May in Georgia. Matter of fact, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor seem like the kind of people who never get upset. Not your average picketers.
Now Andy has attracted the full attention of the church folk, the reporter, the sightseers, and Missus. Still looking away, toward the street, he starts talking. “Maybe, but it was just to, to well. I don’t know. Sometimes I just talk too much, maybe?”
The reporter steps up to Missus. “Mrs. Bedwell, we met during the tornado coverage. Is this true? Is there a campaign of silence in Chancey?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We support all business. And all churches. Interview over.” She pushes aside his microphone with one gloved hand. As she steps to the door of MoonShots, she seems shocked that my husband has not stepped up to open the door for her. When he finally arrives to do his menial duty, she steps into the shop, but not before turning to find me in the crowd. “Carolina, you and that young man and his parents are to come inside. No cameras.”
I look at Andy and his still-smiling mama and say, “The queen has spoken. We don’t want to add a beheading to all this fun, do we?”
Andy hands me my phone as he shuffles by me. “No, ma’am. A beheading is not a good idea.”
We are barely in the door when Will, Bryan, and Grant come in carrying brown paper bags with grease spots coming through. My favorite kind of bags. Will holds them up and announces, “We packed up some food and brought it with us ‘cause you said to hurry, and we were starving. Dad, I told the China Palace people you’d take care of it later.”
Susan and Griffin are right behind them. Susan pushes past all the guys and comes up to me. “We ran into Will and them as they were leaving China Palace since we had to run into the Piggly Wiggly first. What’s going on?”
Jordan is behind the counter. “You can’t bring that food in here. What kind of hillbilly brings outside food into another store?”
Savannah whips her hair around and faces her boss, hand on her hip, chin lifted—normal teenage girl stance. “Those pastries you serve are awful. They all came here to help you, and it is lunch time.”
Wow, the pastries must be bad if Savannah, who loves beyond words generic Pop-Tarts and dollar-store snack cakes, thinks they’re awful.
She comes from behind the counter and joins her brothers in digging through the fragrant paper bags. With an eggroll in hand, she jumps up to sit on the counter. “Chill out, Jordan. This ain’t New York.”
Will high fives his sister, then sits down to the plate of food he’s put together from the open containers.
Griffin has a plate and hands one to Jackson. “Don’t worry. While we were there, I paid half the bill. Told them to add whatever they had ready to the takeout so none of us would starve to death.” Louder he announces, “Folks, there’s plenty.”
Pretty soon it’s a party. Coffee goes pretty well with Chinese food, we decide. Outside the picketers continue praying, and Missus is beside herself. “Stop eating. Stop talking. This must be resolved this very minute. I will not have my town disparaged by you out-of-town do-gooders. Jordan, as the manager and owner of this establishment, you must see this has to end.”
Jordan shrugs. “I hear this isn’t New York. What do I know? Except this is the most business I’ve had on a Sunday since we’ve been open. I may hire them to come march around outside every Sunday.”
Andy stands up, hitching up his saggy blue jeans. “I’ll take care of it. Mom, Dad, sorry I misled you. You know how I go on sometimes. Can I ask Mr. Stanley and them to stop marching around and praying out there?”
The reverend just nods and waves a hand at his son. He apparently didn’t understand Missus saying, “Stop eating” as he has an eggroll sticking out of his mouth.
Missus steps up to the reporter, who comes in when Andy opens the door to go out, and passes her hand over the bags and boxes of food. “This isn’t a fit lunch. Please come have lunch with me and my husband, and we will give you a tour of the repairs and renovation to our home after the tornado.”
Invitation given and acceptance assumed, she heads to the door. Griffin is seated closest, so he jumps up to open the door. Without a single look back, she leaves. The camera man scoops up two crab Rangoon appetizers, wraps them in a napkin and tucks them in his pocket before grabbing his equipment.
The reporter hesitates, grumbling, “I feel the story is here. Not at some old lady’s house.”
Camera man, already moving toward the door turns back and grins. “Buddy, you’re going to want to see this house. It has a life-size portrait right in the front hallway that’s perfect for a haunted house. Plus the old lady’s a hoot.”
After a couple guffaws, he catches his words and cringes. “Oh, sorry, folks.”
Grant, with all the world weariness a thirteen-year-old carries, answers for all of us. “Man, no worries, we’ve all seen the picture.”
Chapter 37
Jackson being in town means I get up early and we have coffee together before he leaves for work. We started this when the babies came along, and it was the only time we could find for just the two of us. I can be a morning person when I really try. Jackson makes me want to try when he says, “This is my favorite part of the day. Sitting here in the quiet with you.”
Dew covers everything this time of year, so we’d stuck the chair cushions in the kitchen last night. They are dry, and the standing dew around us on the table, the deck railing, and the grass is picking up the sunshine as its beams find their way through the trees. The hazy fog draping the tops of the mountains dissipates first in the growing light. We sat down in half darkness, now in
the distance, tops of the trees are touched by golden light. We watch it move down the tall pine trunks as we drink our coffee. This might be my favorite part of the day, too, if it weren’t so early.
He refills my cup as he give me a goodbye kiss. I’m going to make something in the crockpot for dinner so we can eat early enough to get to Missus’ for dessert at seven. It was good to get to meet Andy’s parents yesterday. He finally admitted he never called Gertie and Patty, which is why they didn’t show up for the impromptu lunch party. I also found out Andy’s dad is doing the wedding. Both weddings he said, but when he said that, Andy wouldn’t meet my eye. Sounds like a little more exaggeration.
Anna stayed upstairs all day yesterday. She wouldn’t even come down to eat. Will heated up her lunch and took it to her. I don’t care if you do have a husband and a place to live, being pregnant at eighteen has got to be terrifying. Shoot, it was terrifying for me at twenty-three. Maybe I can get her to open up to me later. Although on Mondays Will drives her to school and she stays there all day. This Maymester thing she’s taking means concentrating a whole semester of work into one month.
As the sun hits the lawn, the bugs pick up. A low buzz of summer background music. I’ve got a full day of cleaning to do. Although our next guests don’t arrive until Friday, so I really don’t have to do the cleaning today, right? The meal for the crockpot is one of those that comes already put together in a bag, frozen, so that should take all of five minutes. I lean up to look over the railing at my garden. Nothing there looks like it needs picking or whatever else you do with gardens. It’s helpful that I’m not so good on identifying weeds. Amazing how a day can just open right up with a little creative thinking.
“Hey Mom.” Will comes out to the deck holding a cup of coffee.
“That cushion is dry. Your daddy was sitting on it.”
He sits down and takes a sip of his coffee.
“How’s Anna feeling?”