Doug and Carlie: Lessons in Love (Doug & Carlie Series Book 4)

by Lisa Smartt

  I turned my back toward her. “Look at my rear end, Aunt Charlotte. Does it look like I have anything like that?”

  She laughed, “Oh child, you and me’s got the same problem, I reckon, ‘cept you not near as big as me and you’re tall and all gorgeous and everything.”

  “I love you forever…even if you eat hog meat.”

  “Love you too. Here, I’ll make some toast while you sit right here at this table ‘cause I’m gonna tell ya what happened after you left last night and you won’t wanna miss a thing.”

  “I already heard it all on the radio.”

  “Oh no, Baby. You ain’t heard this. No. I promise Mitch Smith didn’t report nothin’ about it on the radio. Seems Sarah and Matthew was gettin’ all up close and personal over by the railroad tracks last night. Yes, ma’am. And I heard it from more than one person too.”

  “I doubt they were gettin’ too up close and personal. I’ve watched them sit on that porch every Sunday for the last month and it’s like watchin’ molasses being poured from a frozen jar.”

  “Well, you wasn’t there. But that’s not all. That little Shayla McGuire stopped by Chester and Ida’s last night around 9:30 too. Said she was lookin’ for Matthew. Ida told her he’d done gone to bed, that he was a workin’ man who had to get up early. She asked Ida to wake him up but Ida refused. God bless her. And then little Shayla stomped off the porch and Ida was so nervous over it, she didn’t sleep a wink.”

  “Shayla’s probably just not used to people goin’ to bed that early.”

  “Well, I think that gal has more than just a TV show on her mind. That’s what I think.”

  “I’m sure it’s none of our business.”

  Aunt Charlotte laughed. “And that’s comin’ from the gal who has invited Matthew and Sarah to Sunday dinner every week for the last month! I figure it’s your business alright. You done made it your business.”

  “If I give you a sausage biscuit, will you stop trying to make me seem nosy?”

  “Honey, if you was to give me a sausage biscuit, I’d give you my last litter of speckled pups.”

  Chapter 19, CARLIE: That’s a Wrap

  Shayla McGuire and the camera crew did just what they said they were going to do. They shot footage for the pilot in only four days then high-tailed it back to California. The producer said it would require a week of editing and then they’d do the preliminary presentation to the network big wigs. Of course, everyone in Sharon was on the edge of their seats, waiting for Dusty and Matthew to get the call as to whether the show was a go. Dusty and Matthew seemed far less concerned. They went to work every day and came home every night.

  But then came Thursday. On Thursday something completely odd happened. According to Dusty, Thursday morning he went by to pick Matthew up for work, but Ida said he’d gone. He called a taxi the night before. Said he borrowed a suitcase and seemed pleasant enough. Hugged them both and said he’d be back on Sunday. She handed Dusty a note that said, “I’m sorry. Something important has come up. I’ll be back and ready to work Monday morning. Matthew”

  Jerry Conner said the parole officer was tight-lipped about where Matthew was going but that he did check in and go through the proper procedures for leaving the state. Clearly, Matthew’s strict adherence to the conditions of his parole disappointed Jerry Conner.

  Sunday afternoon found Sarah sitting on our porch swing without her usual after-lunch companion. “Those burgers were great, Doug. Thank you. Carlie, I loved that red Jell-O stuff too. My grandma used to make it just like that. Called it Jell-O salad even though it was sweeter than cake.”

  “Yes! My MeeMaw did the same thing! How did southerners convince themselves a syrupy liquid could ever be called a salad?”

  “Or that lard could be a ‘flavor enhancer’?”

  I leaned back in the rocking chair. “True. So true. Okay. So, about that elephant in the room, any ideas?”

  “Ideas about what?”

  “You know what. About where Matthew is. Look, I know you’re curious. We’re all curious.”

  “No. I’ve no idea. I mean, I guess he’s probably in California. Maybe Shayla wanted him to be part of the pitch to the network. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but why wouldn’t he just say that? Why wouldn’t he just tell Dusty he had to go spend a few days doing something about the TV show?”

  “I don’t know. Why does any man do what he does?”

  “Right. I asked Ashley if she knew anything, if she’d had contact with Shayla. She hadn’t.”

  “I’m sure it’s all fine. He told Dusty he’d be ready for work in the morning. He will.”

  And Sarah Simpson? She was right on the money. Dusty went by Chester and Ida’s house at 6:15 Monday morning and Matthew was waiting out on the stoop, carrying a brown paper bag which contained two meatloaf sandwiches, two uncut fresh tomatoes, and a salt shaker. He apologized for missing work Thursday and Friday. Promised to make it up to Dusty. And that was that.

  Chapter 20, SARAH: Mysterious Matthew Prescott

  When I was 17 I used to drive by the new band director’s house nearly every evening. He was only 25 years old and all the girls at school thought he looked just like Alan Jackson. He rented a little white house from Maude Jenkins, just down from the appliance store here in Sharon. I’d drive by just, I don’t know, just to see his old El Camino parked in the gravel driveway, I guess. I was hoping to see him outside washing his car or walking the dog…or pining for me. Young girls and their silly dreams.

  When I left Carlie’s place Sunday afternoon, I drove by Chester and Ida’s. And yes, I got that same stupid, giddy feeling I got when I was in high school. Of course, Matthew Prescott doesn’t even have a car, so there’s no way I could even know if he were at home or still, still wherever he was. Chester was sitting on the front porch swing and reading the paper. Ida, cane in one hand, broom in the other, was sweeping the walk. I waved and Chester shot up from his rocking chair and beckoned me with both arms to pull in the drive. I rolled down the passenger side window. “Hey! Looks like Mrs. Ida’s doing all the work and you’re taking it easy!”

  Chester grinned and walked toward the car. “It’s a day of rest, Sarah! A day of rest. But you know ol’ Ida here. She’s gonna wear out, not rust out.”

  “Yes, I feel certain.”

  “Guess you heard that our boarder took flight last week.”

  “I did. Is there anyone in Weakley County who hasn’t heard that news?”

  Chester pulled out a dingy handkerchief and wiped his bald head as he laughed. “No, I reckon not.”

  “And no, I’m not gonna ask you where he went either. I don’t see it’s any of my business.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know if you did ask, Sarah.” He sighed as he bent over and leaned into the window. “No idea. Lord knows we’ve put our heads together. He got a phone call ‘bout supper time and was gone within two hours. He didn’t seem troubled. But he didn’t seem excited neither. Just said he’d be gone a few days.”

  Mrs. Ida stopped sweeping long enough to call out. “Sarah, come in and see the quilt! Finally got it all pieced together.”

  “Sounds great!” Chester and Ida’s house smelled like Lysol and canned cinnamon rolls and old furniture. As we walked down the hallway to the sewing room, I glanced into the small guest room. Yes, the velvet wallpaper was atrocious. But the bed was made neatly, and I noticed a stack of books, at least ten, sitting on the end table. “Matthew must be a reader.”

  “Oh, he is. That child reads more than anyone I ever seen. But he’s not a hermit. I mean, he don’t just sit back there in his room at night. Usually he sits with us in the living room. I crochet and Chester watches the news channel. And Matthew, he reads books about the Civil War and the Holocaust and books about presidents. And I don’t know what else. Smart fella though. Smart fella.”

  “So, it’s workin’ out, huh? Him being a boarder, it’s workin’ well?”

  Ida’s face lit up lik
e a child’s face on Christmas morning. “Oh, it is! It is. He’s so pleasant and well, we’ve both, we’ve missed him these few days. Sure have.”

  The front door slammed and a voice called out. “I’m home!”

  Ida turned and almost ran down the hallway. The green shag carpeting was so worn down, it hardly moved under her shuffling feet. I walked slowly behind her. It was like I’d finally gotten caught driving by the band director’s house, except I didn’t care because I wasn’t seventeen anymore. Matthew had on new blue jeans, fancy brown western boots, and a blue and white plaid western shirt but not the kind with the pearl buttons. Just the regular kind of buttons. He set his suitcase by the front door just as Ida threw her arms around his neck. “Welcome home, stranger!”

  “Thank you. Good to be back.” He shook Chester’s hand. “I missed you two.” He smiled and winked at Ida. “Oh, and I definitely missed the good cookin’ ‘round here.”

  Chester spoke with enthusiasm. “We got us a visitor today! Yeah, reckon we missed you so bad, Matthew, we went out and got another young person to fill in for ya!”

  I couldn’t bring myself to move forward. It’s like my feet were glued to the edge of the green shag hallway carpet. Matthew looked over and paused for just a moment. Then he smiled. “Well, if you do decide to replace me, she’d be a good one. Absolutely.” His words became softer. “She’s a good one alright.”

  His eyes met mine and I realized he’d gotten even better looking. In just four days. When a man goes away for four days and comes back way better looking than when he left, it can only mean one thing. My heart sank.

  I finally moved and extended my hand like I was his new insurance representative or someone interviewing him for a job. “Welcome home, Matthew.”

  “Thanks! Good to be back.”

  Ida completely forgot about that lavender and purple quilt with all the states on it. She forgot she was walking me back to the sewing room so I could ooh and aah over its intricate details. Instead she became laser-focused on making food for her weary traveler, the son she never had.

  “Chester, take the young folks into the living room. I know this one here hasn’t eaten a thing and I’m gonna make him that omelet he likes so well. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  He reached down and gently kissed her cheek. “Sounds great, Mrs. Ida. Thanks.”

  Chester led the way to a crowded living room filled with a combination of junk and antiques. Old Coke crates. Fancy doilies. Blue and green candy dishes. Too much furniture. Matthew immediately removed his boots and sat in the old brown vinyl chair which faced the door. “Sarah, Chester and Mrs. Ida and I have assigned seats in here.”

  “Do you?”

  “Chester has this old green recliner. Mrs. Ida sits in that floral wingback chair and this is mine, by the reading light. But we’re leaving the best for you. The big wooden rocker. Mrs. Ida was rocked to sleep in that rocker.”

  “Oh my. Well, I don’t want to…”

  Matthew spoke like he’d lived there his whole life. “Oh no. It’s fine. Have a seat. You can’t hurt it. She says it was made back when people knew how to make furniture, when they took pride in their work.”

  He jumped from the vinyl chair and handed me an orange throw pillow. When his hand touched mine, I smiled. I wanted to reach out and hug him. But I wasn’t Mrs. Ida and Matthew Prescott wasn’t my boarder either. So I just sat down in the old wooden rocker and rubbed my hands on its intricate carvings. “Thanks. It’s lovely. Comfortable too.”

  Chester pulled the old recliner handle and it snapped back with a loud thud. “People ‘round here been real curious, Matthew. Real curious about where you been.”

  “It’s funny. Growing up in San Diego, no one would have even known if you were gone for a month, but around here I guess people…they notice.”

  Chester wasn’t surrendering. “Most people figure it was somethin’ havin’ to do with that TV show. Then there’s some who figure it had to do with that little blonde thing throwin’ such a fit on our porch the other night. And of course, there’s always a few wantin’ it to be the worst…I won’t tell ya what they said ‘cause it’s not fit to tell.”

  Matthew looked at me like he was trying to keep from laughing. He winked. “Thank you for sparing me, Chester.”

  Chester continued, “But I, I told ‘em it wasn’t none of their business what you was doin’. You wasn’t breakin’ the law and they needed to just mind their own affairs…uh, not that you was havin’ an affair of any kind ‘cause Ida and me, well, we swore up and down it wasn’t any kind of nonsense such as that.”

  “Thank you for defending my honor. Thank you.”

  Silence fell over the room. Chester grabbed his glasses and pretended to be looking at the TV Guide. I pretended to be examining the needlework on the orange throw pillow as I rocked back and forth in the antique rocker. Matthew just leaned his head back in the brown vinyl chair and gently closed his eyes. And Mrs. Ida made an omelet, an omelet for a good-looking ex-con who left for four whole days and not a soul in Weakley County knew where he had gone.

  Chapter 21, CARLIE: We’re All Gonna Be Famous (Lord, Help Us)

  It’s been a week since Matthew Prescott’s disappearing act and nobody seems to care anymore. The only thing people in Sharon are talking about is the fact that the TV show got approved by the network big wigs. A picture of Matthew and Dusty made the front page of the paper too, along with a detailed story about how Sharon and Bradford were gonna be famous towns now. Homer Crittenden called into the morning radio show and said, “I have an important announcement. An emergency really. If you live in Sharon or Bradford, you need to take more care with your lawn and house upkeep, seeing as how we’re all gonna be on TV now. Some of ya’ll need to throw away those dead chrysanthemums and broken flower pots. And if your car ain’t runnin’, see if you can at least tow it ‘round to the backyard so as not to embarrass the rest of us.” Then he listed seven or eight people by name, people he considered the worst violators. Of course, then he said, “If you need help with the cleanup, just call my nephew, Jacob, at 514-0022. He graduated last year and is doing mighty fine yard work now.” The radio host immediately accused Homer of using the call for free advertising. The whole exchange made for some pretty exciting radio.

  Shayla said they’ll send the camera crew out again in a few weeks. Mabel swears up and down the diner will be getting so much business, she’ll have to hire a security guard. But Mabel has always wanted to hire a security guard for the same reason Jerry Conner has wanted to conduct a surveillance mission. I like to call it “Enthusiastic small town overkill.”

  It had been a few weeks since we’d invited Uncle Bart and Aunt Charlotte to Sunday lunch and Doug was feeling bad about it. I think he was feeling bad because Aunt Charlotte came by the bank and said, “Doug Honey, I don’t never see you ‘cept when I come in here and wrangle you to the ground.”

  We hadn’t invited them in a while because we wanted to give Matthew and Sarah a chance to get to know each other without Aunt Charlotte’s loud and overbearing interference. But clearly, that strategy had been flawed from the get-go. Maybe Aunt Charlotte’s loud and honest declarations were what was needed to light the fire. When it comes to people, Aunt Charlotte is definitely like a good piece of kindlin’. Good or bad, she’s sure to get things started.

  After church, Doug picked up two huge sandwich platters from Sammy’s. Sammy’s Sandwich Emporium also sells used “items of interest.” If you’re wondering what would happen if Goodwill and Subway went in business together at an old gas station location, well, you don’t have to wonder anymore. Just go to Sammy’s Sandwich Emporium in Sharon, Tennessee, and you’ll know for sure.

  Matthew helped Doug carry the sandwiches onto the porch as I retrieved two gallons of sweet tea from the kitchen. Matthew seemed unusually happy and I didn’t know if it had to do with the TV show, Sarah Simpson, his trip last week, or the fact that Sammy threw in a huge bag of kettle chips fo
r free.

  Aunt Charlotte set a big platter of sugar cookies on the picnic table, declaring that she read in a Reader’s Digest article that all dieters should take one day a week off, and that Sunday would be her day. But then Uncle Bart yelled, “Well, what about all them cookies you ate last night, Charlotte?”

  “Well, maybe I’m doin’ the days like Jewish people, Bart! Ever thought about that? With the real Sunday beginning Saturday night? Lord, sometimes you ain’t got no culture. No culture at all.”

  Uncle Bart just laughed and threw up both hands as though he were surrendering. Sarah Simpson sprang up the porch steps like a teenager who’d just been asked to the prom. She had on the cutest, most flattering denim dress. And I don’t mean that ridiculous tent-like denim jumper all teachers and pregnant women wore in the 90’s. No. This dress was tailored with a red leather belt. She wore shiny red sandals too. She sat down in her usual rocking chair on the porch. Matthew sat on the porch swing facing her. The McConnells and Robertsons were at the swing set watching over their brood. Uncle Bart and Aunt Charlotte sat at the picnic table. I knew it was so that Aunt Charlotte would have ready access to the sugar cookies, seeing as how the sun would be setting within hours.

  Soon, Doug would call everyone to the porch. We’d pray. We’d eat. And I figured, well, I figured it would all go exactly like it went every Sunday. But I was wrong.

  Chapter 22, CARLIE: Who’s Afraid of the Big Black Car?

  Most everybody was at least halfway through their sandwiches. The bag of kettle chips was gone and only a half-gallon of sweet tea remained. James and Collin were already eating ice cream sandwiches or rather, ice cream sandwiches were eating them by the looks of their shirts. That’s when a big black car pulled into the driveway. It wasn’t a limo. It was like those big black cars that senators or congressmen ride around in because they don’t want their constituents to think they would waste money to ride around in a limo. Of course, that’s dumb seein’ as how they waste so much money on expensive muffins and bad haircuts.