That was for sure, and with Sassy being Dottie Jean’s best friend, this could only mean good. “I’m going to run out to the house and see what’s been done since the other day. You don’t need to go with me. I’ll then be heading on back to Jackson.”
Leota tilted her head. “You’re not going by the diner this visit?”
“No, I’ll wait until Saturday to see her. Thanks again for all your help.” He shook hands with his young cohort and ambled back to his car. Amazing what Leota’s friends had accomplished in such a short time.
After a visit to the house under construction, Fletcher’s heart filled with love for Dottie Jean. Satisfied with the progress, he meandered through the debris and back where he’d parked. Before turning the key, he bowed his head on the steering wheel.
Lord, I commit this house, my relationship with Dottie Jean, and my future into Your hands.
A few minutes later he turned onto the highway leading to Jackson, his thoughts filled with the surprise for Dottie Jean.
Chapter Eleven
Dottie Jean pulled the red top over her head and flung it toward the bed, adding it to the pile already there. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror before finally reaching into the closet for her favorite denim skirt and vest. She might as well wear something comfortable. This was worse than her first date with Fletcher.
So far plans were going right today. Jenny, Leota, Sue Ellen, and Sassie had outdone themselves. She smiled at the sight they had made earlier hanging streamers and blowing up balloons. Weeks ago, the party had started out as a surprise, but as usual in a small town, someone leaked the plans, so she had joined in the fun this morning.
She shrugged her arms into the vest. Nothing looked right. The idea of meeting Fletcher’s family sent her heart into a tailspin. She almost wished Leota hadn’t told her. How should she dress? She turned in front of the mirror and sighed. She looked like a small town matron. But then isn’t that what she was? She raised her shoulders. Banish those thoughts. Nothing would spoil her day.
Jenny popped in. “Hey, Mom, you about ready? This is going to be the greatest day. Wait and see.”
Dottie Jean sighed. “I hope you’re right.” With her head held high and her shoulders squared, Dottie Jean was now ready to face anybody’s family.
Friends had already begun to assemble in the dining room when she and Jenny made their entrance. Wendell Meeks gave her a hug.
Sassie kissed her cheek. “You look great. Go get ‘em, Girl.” She winked and headed for the buffet table.
All through the congratulations and best wishes of her friends, her gaze roamed the room and darted to the plate glass window for a sign of Fletcher. Her nerves stretched tighter than a rubber band ready to snap. One thing she had to do—control her tongue and say and do the right things. Her heart pounded so loud she was sure everyone could hear it.
Her grandson drew her attention to the balloons. “Grammy, can I have a red one?”
She lifted the three-year-old boy to her hip. “Sure, Jason. We’ll tie it around your wrist.”
The dark-haired tot grinned as she set him in a chair and secured the string. The big, red balloon bounced as he waved his hand and giggled. “Thanks, Grammy.” He scooted from the chair and ran to his mother.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Dottie Jean, happy birthday.”
The voice sent her heart to singing and her knees to trembling. She turned to face Fletcher. Her voice squeaked out a thank you while their gazes locked. Suddenly they were the only two in the room.
“I’m . . . I’m so happy you’re here.” Heat flooded her cheeks.
“I’m pleased we were invited.” Fletcher’s dark eyes searched her face. Then he stepped back and wrapped an arm around a young man just behind him.
“I'd like you to meet my son Kevin. Kevin, this is Mrs. Weaver.”
She smiled at the handsome younger version of Fletcher. “I’m pleased to meet you. Call me Dottie Jean, everyone else does.”
Kevin placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. She held a young boy in her arms. “This is my wife, Brooke and our son, Taylor.”
Dottie Jean shook the woman’s hand. “I’ve heard so many nice things about all of you. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you.”
Then Kevin ruffled the hair of the boy standing next to him. “And this is Scott.”
“How do you do, Scott. You’re a fine looking young man.”
The lad grinned and exposed two gaps from missing teeth. “Thank you, I’m six years old.”
The familiar lisp brought a broad smile to her face. “Well, now. That means you’ll be in first grade this year. How about a balloon for you and your brother?”
“Can we have one, Mom, please?” He tugged on his mother’s hand.
“Sure. Daddy and I will get it for you. A pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Weaver. . . I mean Dottie Jean.” She set the younger boy down, and he headed for the balloons. Kevin followed them.
“Nice family, Fletcher. The boys are adorable. Jenny and Bill are over there with the rest of the family. Come, I want them to meet you.” Her heart still thudding, she didn’t want to be alone to talk just yet.
She led him to the table where Bill and Jenny sat with her other son Henry and their wives and children. After making introductions all around, Bill spoke to Fletcher.
“I’m in Jackson with Computers Plus, and I’ve heard a great deal about your electronics firm. In fact, I use quite a number of your software programs in some of the work I do.”
Fletcher smiled. “Thank you. Firms like yours help keep us in business.” He turned to Henry. “You do resemble your namesake, Henry. Did you play ball in school?”
The bulky young man laughed. “Sure did. Played on defense. Went to Ole Miss, too. Followed your career while I was growing up. Dad talked about you being the best quarterback around.”
Dottie Jean smiled at the flush rising in Fletcher’s cheeks. “Well, he caught enough of my passes to make me one.” He grasped Dottie Jean’s arm. “Mind if I steal your mother away a minute?”
She turned from the table with him, and he whispered, “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
“In my office.” A band tightened around her chest, dreading the talk she had postponed for so many weeks. After closing the office door, she scurried to a chair, uncertain whether her legs would hold her much longer. A wave of her hand indicated the other chair for him.
He nodded then pulled it closer to her before seating himself. “We have a few things we need to clear up. First is an apology for what happened at the benefit dinner. I had no idea what you had heard until later, and I’m truly sorry.”
The sincerity in his eyes warmed Dottie Jean. “And I should have explained my abrupt departure, and I should have known you’d understand.”
A dimple flashed in his left cheek. “Looks like we both made a mistake or two.” He moistened his lips and the smile disappeared. “Something else I need to tell you before you find out from someone else and get the wrong idea.”
She clasped her hands in her lap and waited, fearing what he might say.
“When we first saw each other again, I was elated. I could see you had a fine diner, and I wanted to make sure you have what you need.” He hesitated and peered at the floor before gazing into her eyes again.
“Forgive me, but I did a check on the diner to see if you needed any help with the financing and keeping it in the black.”
She sucked in her breath. “You what?” Then her eyes narrowed to slits as she waited for him to continue.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to help in any way I could, but I discovered you didn’t need my help. You’ve done a great job here. Hank would be proud.”
At first the anger rose in her throat, but she swallowed it and closed her eyes. She needed help understanding his motives, but he was only thinking of her best interests. Pleasure for his concern replaced the anger that had filled her.
***
He waited until she opened
her eyes to speak. Then he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized the anger had disappeared and her eyes reflected forgiveness and understanding.
“I should be so mad at you, Fletcher Cameron, but my heart tells me you were only doing it out of concern. I’m glad you told me. If I had heard it from Sassy or Leota, I might really never have spoken to you again.” A faint smile touched her lips.
“Whew, that’s a relief. Thank you.” Now if only she felt that way about his big surprise. He could hardly contain his joy and slapped his knee. “Now let’s go enjoy the party.”
Later, after the cake had been served and the gifts opened, Fletcher called for attention of the crowd. “Please, I have a request.”
Conversation halted and all eyes concentrated on him. “If you don’t mind, I’m taking Dottie Jean to get her birthday present from me. We’ll be back shortly. Ya’ll go ahead and have fun.”
He almost choked with laughter at the sight of Leota, Sassy, and Sue Ellen nudging each other and grinning. Sassy even winked at him. Bless her heart, he sensed her loyalty to Dottie Jean. What a great friend she would be. With his elbow extended to Dottie Jean, he held his breath until she hooked her hand on his arm and followed him to his car.
When they arrived at the house site, the sun still shone in the west far enough above the horizon to give plenty light for him to present his gift in grand fashion. His heart tightened at the thought of how she might react. If it went as planned, he wouldn’t be able to contain his joy. If it didn’t, he shuddered at the thought.
He parked the car then helped Dottie Jean from her side. She furrowed her brow and glanced up at him then back to the rising framework.
“What is this, Fletcher?”
His excitement bubbled to the surface and exploded in a broad grin. “It’s your birthday gift from me.” He held his breath waiting for her reaction.
Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at him with a stunned expression. In a moment she recovered and sputtered, “My . . . my gift? What on earth do you mean?”
He blew out his breath and grasped her hands. “I mean it’s your house. I know how you love the river, and now you can be near it again.”
She gasped and blinked her eyes. “Fletcher, I can’t accept something like this. It’s too much.”
Now for the main part. “Even if I come along with it?”
Her cheeks turned pink, and he pulled her hands to his lips. “If you say no, then I’m just going to move in and live here until you decide to come live with me as my wife.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “Fletcher, I don’t know what to say. I hadn’t . . . well, I . . . oh my.”
“I don’t need an answer right away.” His heart ached for a moment as it had so many years ago when he learned of her marriage to Hank. “I loved you in high school, but you were Hank Weaver’s girl, and I liked him too much to hurt him. When I came home from college and learned you two had eloped, I felt I had lost it all.”
“But what about you and Barbara?” Dottie Jean furrowed her brow and peered at him. “You two were the perfect couple.”
“I cared for Barbara and loved her dearly for all those years until God chose to take her from me.”
She slipped her hands from his and wrapped her arms around her body. He had to lean toward her to hear her soft words.
“I had such a crush on you. You were the quarterback and a senior. Barbara was the Homecoming Queen, and I decided you were the perfect pair. Hank and I had known each other forever and it was natural for us to be together. When you went off to college, I fell in love with Hank even more than I could imagine.”
“I think God is giving us a second chance at love. We’ve both had good marriages, and I think we can have our own.” His soul sang at the prospect of spending the rest of his days with this wonderful woman.
***
Another marriage? Did she want one? Her heart thumped, and her stomach churned with indecision. She turned to face the framework of the house. What could she say? Was God truly giving them a second chance for love? Fletcher’s hands grasped her shoulders.
He whispered in her ear. “You don’t have to answer me yet. All I ask is for you to consider it. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
Suddenly the sun sent forth brilliant shafts of orange, purple, and pale gold as if God Himself were giving His blessing. A peaceful calm settled on her soul. She lifted her hands to his still on her shoulders.
A place to begin a new life and a new future as Mrs. Fletcher Cameron. Dottie Jean Cameron. Yes, she liked the sound of it. “I think this would be a beautiful place to live the rest of our lives.”
He tilted her chin toward him and leaned forward. “I came to Calista for a catfish dinner and found the best thing not on the menu.” Then his lips met hers with a kiss filled with the promise of more to come.
Dottie Jean's Southern Pecan Pie
1 cup brown sugar, packed
1 Tbsps. Flour
3 Eggs, beaten
3/4 Cup Karo (light or dark)
1/4 Cup Maple Syrup
1 Tbsp. Butter
1 tsp. vanilla
1 cup pecans (halves or chopped)
Mix sugar and flour, blend in softened butter. Add eggs and syrup, beat well. Add butter, vanilla, and pecans and mix well. Pour into prepared pie crust and bake at 325 degrees for 1 hour. Serve warm with whipped topping or ice cream or just plain. Good either way.
Dottie Jean’s Cooking Tips
There’s no mystery to being a good cook. Good cooks don’t have to be born that way. Good cooks learn from other good cooks, so here are a few tips from good cooks of the South. In the South, food isn’t just food, it’s a culinary experience that ranges from old fashioned grits to the finest pies and pastries you could ever hope to find. My grandmother’s recipe for Pot Roast for Sunday Dinner included the directions “Turn the fire down low and go to church. If you don’t go to church, the roast won’t cook right or taste the same.” She was right.
Here are some tips from Dottie Jean.
First of all, if your grandma or momma didn’t use a cookbook, here’s what you do.
1. Follow your grandma or your momma around and learn how much is in a pinch, a dash, a tad or a spoonful.
2. Write down everything she does and everything she puts into the bowl or pan.
3. If she doesn’t use an electric mixer, either time how long she beats or mixes or how many strokes she uses.
If you are blessed with a book of recipes then you are ready to go.
1. Study the recipe carefully to make sure you understand it.
2. Read the recipe and make sure you have all the ingredients called for.
3. Be accurate in your measures.
4. Make sure you have the right utensils before you start. (That’s pots, pans, bowls, mixer)
5. Use the right ingredients. If a recipe calls for shortening or lard, you don’t want oil. If it calls for all-purpose flour, don’t use enriched or cake flour.
A good Southern cook didn’t use mixes and pre-mixed or pre-made ingredients for her recipes, but if you want to go that route, it’s okay. Whatever is easiest and fastest seems to be the way to go today. Dottie Jean’s advice would be: “Do whatever floats your boat, but remember, it won’t taste or be as good grandmother’s made from scratch.”
About the Author
Martha Rogers
Martha Rogers is a freelance author of both fiction and non-fiction and a speaker. Her stories and articles have appeared in a number of compilations and magazines. Her first fiction novella released in 2007.
Her experiences as a public school teacher, Sunday school teacher, youth leader, First Place leader, Mom and Grandmother give Martha a unique field of ministry.
Martha is an alumni of CLASS and is available to speak at Women's Retreats, conferences, and luncheons on topics of interest to women of all ages.
Gone Fishing
By
Janice Thompson
Gone Fishing
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br /> Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
About the Author
Dedication
In loving memory of Kay Malone
A friend loves at all times, and is born, as is a brother, for adversity.
Proverbs 17:17 (Amplified)
Chapter One
Sassy Hatchett slipped her legs over the edge of the rickety wooden pier and dipped her toes into the warm, murky waters of the Biloxi River. She twisted a fishhook from her hat and then reached into the front pocket of her worn, blue denim overalls to pull out a small plastic bag filled with ice-cold shrimp. She yanked one out, then ran the clean silver hook straight through it.
“Why can’t everything be this easy?”
A host of irritating mosquitoes suddenly swept down upon her. She swatted them away with a wild swing of her right arm. “Pesky critters. Get on out of here.” They refused to budge, though she continued to slap at the air. Sassy pulled a can of mosquito repellent from the tackle box and sprayed it in every conceivable direction. They disappeared on sight. “Serves you right.”
Reaching for the comfort of a familiar wooden fishing pole, she tried to settle down, though an unexplained anger still gripped her. Troubling thoughts rolled madly through her head. She forced herself to turn her attention to the skies.
Biloxi Brides (Sugar and Grits) Page 7