by Lisa Smartt
Today the funeral home is almost full. I knew it would be. Matthew and Brother Dan are sitting on the front row. Doug and I are sitting with Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Bart about halfway back. Aunt Charlotte keeps us informed with a running commentary on all the pre-funeral proceedings. “Well, good for him! Homer Crittenden done walked in with Jane Johnson. Mabel said she’s been sweet on ‘em for a few months now and that that’s why she been goin’ to the beauty shop so much and wearin’ her teeth every day.” “Look at Bill Norton’s girl. She done growed up so purdy. Little ol’ Clint Buford can’t keep his eyes in his head.” “Glad to see Gertrude’s here. Must have finally gotten free of them shingles.”
We got a break from Aunt Charlotte’s blow-by-blow commentary when Sarah tapped me on the shoulder and we all scooted over to make room. She and Julie both looked beautiful, but in a completely different way. Julie’s make-up was perfect and her hair was straight and smooth. She looked like she stepped right out of one of those Paul Mitchell hair products commercials. Her black skirt and tan blouse were skin-tight and her shoes were so pointy, the Wicked Witch of the West would have been downright envious.
Sarah had on a solid black dress that hugged her curves appropriately. She didn’t have big 1987 Texas hair, but it wasn’t straight and flat either. Perfectly highlighted. Loosely curled. Beautiful. She wasn’t dressed immodestly. But she was definitely making a public statement that, when it comes to Matthew Prescott, she wasn’t flying the white flag just yet. You go, Sarah! If this were a horse race, the announcer would say, “Beautiful hometown Sarah comes around the bend and takes the lead.” One thing’s for sure. Sarah Simpson looked much more relaxed and happy than when she went running from the funeral home last night.
When she and Julie had gotten situated on the pew, I leaned over and whispered, “I wanted to call you last night. Are you okay?”
“Yes, and I’m glad you didn’t call. I was busy.”
“Busy? Busy MAKING food or busy EATING food? I’ve been worried, Sarah. I once ate nearly a half-gallon of Blue Bell ice cream when Doug and I were on the outs. Threw up in an airport bathroom and everything. Seriously. It was terrible.”
She smiled and winked. “I wasn’t making food or eating food. Not the whole time anyway.”
When I was just about to lean in to get the whole scoop, Matthew appeared at the end of the pew. He was dressed in a gray suit and white shirt. Solid black tie. Aunt Charlotte yelled out, “Have mercy, Baby! You clean up real good!”
Matthew nodded and winked at Sarah. “Thank you, Aunt Charlotte. So do you.” He looked directly at Sarah. “Did you girls rest well?”
Sarah smiled in that same way people smile when they have a secret. A really really good secret too. “I did. How ‘bout you, Matthew? Did you sleep well?”
He returned her smile and stared at her like she was the only woman in the room or for that matter, the world. I started wonderin’ if these two had run off to Vegas and gotten married by an Elvis impersonator without telling any of us. Good night. The heat between them could have cooked a frozen turkey in less than ten minutes.
Matthew pretended to clear his throat. “I did sleep well. I mean, I was a little restless at times, but yeah, I slept fine.”
That’s when we all learned Julie Crawford wasn’t flying the white flag yet either. She took a deep breath. “Well, I could hardly sleep at all. Just tossing and turning. All night long.” She put her hand on Matthew’s forearm. “I was thinking about old times, I guess. Remember that summer Daddy rented the house at Catalina? Right after high school graduation?”
He nodded. “I do. You spent the whole time trying to get Billy Crenshaw’s attention.”
She laughed. “I wore that little bitty white bikini all summer long.” She turned and grabbed Sarah’s arm. “I was getting nowhere. Nothing. Finally, at the end of the summer, Billy’s sister told me he wasn’t interested in girls at all.” She let go of Sarah and turned to Matthew. “It was a relief really. I mean, there for a while, I was worried, worried I didn’t have what it took to get a man’s attention.”
My word. She can’t be serious. Julie Crawford may not be able to make pickles or clean out a fence row. She may know nothing about gardening or other domestic endeavors. But one thing we all know for sure. Even without the fake teeth, she definitely has what it takes to get a man’s attention.
Matthew smiled but not at Julie. “Sarah, would you be willing to sit with me and Brother Dan? Upfront.”
She stood and straightened her dress. “Absolutely. I’d be glad to.” He reached for her hand.
She hadn’t even stepped into the center aisle when loud noises erupted from the back of the room. Mr. Groeden’s voice was unusually firm. “No! Get out! You’re not filming in here. I won’t allow it.”
We all turned as Dusty moved into the center aisle. “What are you guys doing here? We’re not supposed to start shooting until Monday.” Matthew quickly joined him in the back of the room.
A young red-headed cameraman dressed in khaki pants and a black shirt was adjusting a tripod at the very back of the center aisle. “The producer told us to get footage of the funeral. Reality is reality. You can’t always pick and choose.”
Mr. Groeden’s voice escalated. “Well, I haven’t agreed to any reality show. And I am able to pick and choose. This is my business and we want you out.”
“Look man, I don’t want trouble. I’ll go to the very back corner. How ‘bout that? You’ll never even know I’m here.”
Mr. Groeden paced nervously. The whole community was watching so he tried to speak in softer tones. “No filming inside this building. If you want to go out to the street, I can’t stop you. But I can keep you from filming inside this room. I’ll call the law, if I have to.”
The young guy held up both hands. “Okay, okay. You made your point.” He looked at Dusty and Matthew, as he folded up the tripod. “But you guys are gonna have to vouch for me with the producer. Tell him this old guy was livin’ in the dark ages and evidently didn’t want anyone to see what kind of voodoo ritual he performs in here every day.” He looked at Mr. Groeden and laughed. “But hey, that’s fine with me, man. Hold on to all your secrets.” He walked toward the door. “I’m out. And yeah, I’ll be camped across the street. So you better pull the shades.”
Mr. Groeden’s face was bright red as he waved pleasantly to the crowd and said, “We’ll get started in about thirty minutes.” Dusty put his arm around Mr. Groeden and whispered what I felt certain was an apology for the chaos.
Matthew started walking back down the aisle toward Sarah, who was still standing next to the pew. Aunt Charlotte jumped to her feet before any of us had the chance to stop her. Not that we could have stopped her. When she gets something on her mind, she’s a dad gum freight train. And she spoke so loudly, I felt certain the young cameraman across the street heard every word. “Well, none of us should be troubled by what happened just now!” She pointed to the back of the room. “That horribly rude child was only doin’ what his boss told him to do. And he didn’t have the good sense nor the proper raisin’ to understand the error of his ways. Lord, bless the poor boy, that’s what I say! And keep him from bein’ knocked out cold and left for dead by someone not as understandin’ and hospitable as our own dear Mr. Groeden. And that’s all I aim to say about it.”
Matthew leaned over the pew and said, “Nicely done, Aunt Charlotte. Nicely done.” Sarah was still standing in the aisle. Matthew put his arm around her waist. “Why don’t we head to the break room for a few minutes, before the service begins? I think we’ve got time.”
“Sure.”
There was time alright. Time for me to take a matchmaking victory lap around Groeden’s Funeral Home.
Chapter 42, SARAH: If This is a Dream, Don’t Wake Me Up!
We were alone in the break room and I was thankful. Matthew sat in the corner chair and loosened his tie a bit. I walked to the table to investigate the food and drink options. “Matthew, can
I pour you some coffee? Or juice? Would you like something to eat? Looks like CO-OP sent sausage biscuits. I’d be glad to warm one up for you. Or there’s fruit salad, if you want something lighter.”
He smiled and motioned for me to sit next to him. I sat down and he put both arms around me. “I have a question. Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you always ask if I want something to eat or drink. At Carlie’s, you’re always refilling my tea glass or asking if you can get me something to eat. I’m just curious as to why you do that.”
“It’s called hospitality, Matthew. I mean, surely your mother did that, right?”
“No. Not that I can recall. I mean, even when the kitchen staff wasn’t there, I never remember her…well…”
“Serving?”
“Yeah, serving. I mean, she served on committees, boards, plenty of non-profit things. But no, I never remember her saying, ‘Matthew, would you like me to warm you up a sausage biscuit?’ Or ‘Can I get you some more sweet tea?’”
I laughed and patted him on the chest. “Well, you probably just didn’t have any sweet tea in the house or any sausage biscuits for her to warm up. See, that’s the problem right there. You don’t come from a tea-swigging, pork-eating family and that’s where the whole serving thing broke down from the get-go, see.”
He laughed. “Oh, that’s it. Yeah. I can see the whole thing clearly now.”
“Does it make you uncomfortable? My filling your tea glass or offering you food?”
“No. No, not at all. I like it actually. It just feels weird. I didn’t grow up that way. And prison? Well, that wasn’t exactly the most service-oriented place either. You can imagine what that was like.”
“No. I can’t really.”
“Good. Don’t try.”
“Matthew, I’ve been thinkin’ about somethin’.”
“Yes.”
“I figure the first part of your life, the first 35 years, well, maybe those years were the warm-up for your real life. The one that begins now.” I looked into his eyes and he gently touched the side of my face. “Maybe all the painful things that happened were a way of making you thankful for the second half of life. An honest day’s work. A sausage biscuit. A glass of tea. Things most of us take for granted.”
He took a deep breath. “A good woman?”
I blushed and looked away. “Yeah, I hope so.”
He touched my hand. “Look at me, Sarah. I know it took me a few months to…well, to tell you how I feel. But I want you to know something. This is the happiest time of my life. And it’s not the sausage biscuits or the sweet tea. Not the job. It’s not even Chester and Ida making me a member of their family, though that was tremendous. It’s you, Sarah. It’s been you for a while. And I get that I’m probably not the kind of man you envisioned. But I want to thank you. For taking a chance on me. For believing in me. I want to be worthy of that kind of trust.”
“Thank you, Matthew. And you’re right. You’re not the kind of man I envisioned. At all. You’re beyond what I could have envisioned. Smarter. More diligent. Forgiving. Tender. And well…uh, you’re…” My face turned red.
He smiled. “What? Annoying?”
“No. Forget it.”
“You can tell me. I can take it.”
“Good-looking. Like, ‘out of my league’ good-looking. ‘Keep a girl up at night’ good-looking. ‘Who turned up the heat in here?’ good-looking. Seriously. Sometimes it’s scary. Well, scary and wonderful at the same time.”
He placed his hands on my face and looked into my eyes. “Sarah Simpson, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Period. Trust me. You’re in a league of your own.”
“You don’t know how much it means to me, for you to say that.”
“It’s true. And before we go back in there, I want to ask you something.”
“Anything,”
“Will you go out with me? On a real date? I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to ask for a long time.”
“I will.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“Yes.”
“Seven?”
“Yes.”
“You know I can’t exactly pick you up in a car. But would it be okay if we walked to Mabel’s? Maybe sit on the porch a while?”
“That would be perfect. Oh, and do you want me to invite Bart and Charlotte Nelson? ‘Cause they love to be with us, Matthew. They do.”
He winked. “Maybe next time. Well, we better get back in there.”
“Yeah. The funeral should be starting in a few minutes.”
He tightened his tie. I walked toward the door. I could feel his eyes on me. It was like a dream. Please, God, don’t let me wake up.
It’s odd how peaceful I felt being at Chester and Ida’s funeral. I’d miss them, yes. But they had the rare privilege of dying together, the way they would have wanted. I also felt this tremendous sense of appreciation. At the very end of their lives, they’d given me a gift. They told me to trust Matthew, give him a chance, open myself up to the possibilities. They told me to be patient and try to understand why it all had to move so slowly. Now I believed all that and more. And it was beyond wonderful. Matthew and I moved to the front of the room where Brother Dan was visiting with Mayor Perkins and his wife.
Standing so close to Matthew felt like euphoria and peace. Passion and comfort. Adventure? Yes. But not the scary kind of adventure that makes you wonder if you’ll come back alive. No. The kind of adventure that’s exciting but always leads back home. For the first time, I understood what people like Carlie were always talking about. That unexplainable sense of connection. I wanted to passionately kiss Matthew several times a day. And make cupcakes for him. I wanted to sit with him in church every Sunday. Listen to his opinion on world politics and the economy. Paint the porch ceiling with him on a Saturday morning. Learn how to disagree. Practice the art of making up. Compromise. Make homemade chicken soup when he’s sick. I wanted to be Matthew Prescott’s wife and make mad passionate love to him every night.
“Sarah? Sarah?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. Zoned out there for a bit.” I shook hands with the mayor and tried to nod pleasantly.
“The mayor was wondering if we’d be willing to come to the Fire Department banquet in a few weeks. I’ll be presenting Mrs. Ida’s quilt. Would you like to join me?”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Thank you, Mayor. We’ll be there.”
As the mayor turned to sit in one of the pews, Jerry Conner entered from the back door. He had on his nice Sunday clothes and there was no indication he had been anywhere near Miss Lucy or her toxic “recipe”. Several people in the crowd turned and then tried to pretend they thought nothing of it. Matthew leaned toward me. “Let’s try to be as pleasant as we can.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
He placed his hand on Brother Dan’s shoulder. “I think Sarah and I should sit this one out. We’ll go ahead and sit down.”
Brother Dan whispered, “That’s probably wise.”
Matthew asked, “When do I do my reading? After the first hymn or before?”
Brother Dan handed him a schedule. “It’s right after ‘Trust and Obey.’”
“Okay, thanks.” We both looked up and pleasantly nodded at Jerry as he strolled down the aisle. Then we sat on the front pew.
Jerry shook his head and looked at us. “You two don’t have to sit down on my account. Go ahead. Stand up and be proud of what you’re doing.” He pointed to the caskets. “Go ahead and be proud of what you did to these two as well. You’re why they’re here, Matthew.”
Brother Dan moved forward and extended his hand as he stood between Jerry and front row. “Jerry, hey there. Glad you could make it today.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it. The Millers did right by everybody in town.” He tried to make eye contact with Matthew but Matthew was staring at the funeral program. “Too bad they were too old and trusting to do right by themselves. Damn shame wha
t happened to them both.” He looked back at Matthew. “And not a charge being filed by anybody!”
Brother Dan put his arm around Jerry and said quietly, “We’re about to start. Let me help you find a seat.”
Jerry pulled away. “Why in the world are you trying to protect him?” He pointed at Matthew. “Why is everybody in town trying to protect this man? He’s a damn felon!” Jerry turned to me and my heart skipped a beat. “And you? Sarah, why in God’s name are you runnin’ around with this guy like you’ve lost your mind or somethin’?” His voice escalated as he moved toward me with both hands out. “Huh? Why? God, were you that lonely, Sarah? That desperate?”
Matthew stood and it’s like I could hear the crowd take a deep breath. I did too. He moved between Jerry and me. “Look, Jerry, if you’ve got a problem with me, take it up with me. But this is not the time or the place. And leave Sarah out of it.”
“Oh, you’re trying to protect your WOMAN now, huh? I’m surprised you can even get a woman, Matthew! Pretty boy like you? In prison all those years?” He started laughing as he lightly touched Matthew’s chest. “C’mon, we all know you were some old man’s boy toy!”
And that was the single moment in time. The moment Matthew Prescott’s patience ended. Completely. He lunged forward with the strength and sheer force of an injured lion. Jerry Conner was on the ground and bleeding before I could even get to my feet. At one point, I heard a cracking sound. I prayed to God he wouldn’t kill him. Brother Dan tried to intervene but was no match for Matthew’s strength and will. By the time Dusty and Doug reached the front, Jerry’s head was being pounded into the carpet. They managed to pull Matthew away, but it took both of them. Every ounce of energy they could muster. Matthew’s white shirt was covered in Jerry’s blood. His lip was busted and bleeding slightly. Dusty pulled him up against the wall, trying to calm him. But Jerry? Jerry lay lifeless on the ground.