Biloxi Brides (Sugar and Grits)

by Martha Rogers

  He sat frozen with fear as she made her way to the back of the shop, unable to speak or voice any sort of opinion at all. Are you a man or a mouse? Wendell asked himself as she disappeared into the back room. Squeak up! But no words seemed to come.

  Sue Ellen returned moments later with a small glass bottle in her hand. “This should just do the trick,” she said with a grin. “Autumn Auburn.”

  ***

  “What in tarnation happened to your head?” Sassy stared dumbfounded at Wendell. His fine gray hair had disappeared. In its place a dark red mop of something—she wasn’t quite sure what—had taken its place. A few select hairs stood perched atop his head, stiff as a poker, the rest lay obediently at their side.

  “I, uh…well, I…” he stammered, fidgeting with the fishing hat in his hands. “I just went over to Sue Ellen for a cut and the next thing you know—”

  “She tied you to the chair and ran red shoe polish all over your head?”

  “Well—”

  “Where’s your own hair?”

  “This is my own hair,” he said, and then pressed the hat back on. “Sue Ellen and Dottie Jean talked me into putting a little color on it. Said it’d make me look like a new man.”

  “Well, I’ll give ‘em that,” Sassy said, and then erupted in laughter again. “I hardly recognized you. What’d you say your name was, again?” She stuck out her hand and guffawed.

  Wendell shook his head in defeat, refusing to play along.

  A little sensitive, eh? Better ease off. “Well now, don’t you get your knickers tied up in a knot over this, Wendell,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “It’ll grow out soon enough, and maybe that color’ll fade into something halfway decent in the meantime. Besides, every dog has to have a few fleas—gives him character—and something to complain about. We all need something to complain about. I know I do.”

  Wendell groaned loudly. “Sassy, please—”

  “What can I do for you today?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. “Need some bait? Sinkers? Hair gel?”

  “Very funny. Didn’t you get my message?”

  “Message? Nope. Just got in from the pier. Haven’t checked the machine yet.” She reached over to push the button, wading her way through a couple of messages before she got to his. She listened to it thoughtfully. Ah ha. So that’s why he’s here. To help. Well, thank You, Lord for answering my prayer. “So you think this place needs a man’s touch, huh?”

  He shrugged. “I just thought maybe…”

  “Well, I don’t know the first thing about fixing that confounded lock,” she said, pointing to the door. “I called Tucker a week ago, but he’s slow as molasses. Can’t get out here till Thursday, and I can’t wait that long.”

  “I’d be happy to take a look at it,” Wendell said, a comforting smile lighting his face. “I brought some tools, just in case.”

  “Whatever.” She waved her hand through the air in dismissive fashion.

  The bell on the door rang out suddenly. Sassy looked up as her friend, Dottie Jean, stepped into the shop, a large bag in her arms, and an undeniable smirk on her face. “Dottie, what in the world brings you out here in the middle of the day? Restaurant shut down after that last episode of food poisoning?”

  “Very funny. I was just, uh, in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and drop off these crafts for the festival.” Dottie set the bag down on the counter and turned her gaze to Wendell. “Well, hello there. I didn’t know you’d be out here. Wendell, I do declare – with that new hairdo, you’re as handsome as a movie star. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Sassy mumbled, placing the bag under the counter. “He had to introduce himself when he came in.” She couldn’t help but notice the look of chagrin on Wendell’s face as turned towards the door.

  “I’ll just be getting the tools out of my truck,” he mumbled. “You two ladies don’t mind me.”

  “Fine, fine,” Sassy said, sweeping her hand up nonchalantly. He could come and go all he wanted. What did she care?

  Chapter Three

  Sassy took small sips from her colorful mug, trying not to make a face. “What did you call this stuff again?” she asked her daughter, Tilly.

  “Cappuccino, Mom. It’s what everyone drinks nowadays.”

  “Uh huh.” Sassy took another small sip, wishing for a real cup of coffee. Regular. Black. But she didn’t want to hurt her daughter’s feelings. She gazed into Tilly’s beautiful, young face. Her daughter’s pierced eyebrow and tongue distracted her slightly, along with six or seven earrings lining each ear. Tilly had a flair for the dramatic, though many of the locals found her dark side a little too much to take.

  Ever since she had opened the Café’ Latte across the street from the church, the defiant young woman had done everything in her power to prove her individuality to the Calista community. If the prominently placed piercings didn’t get the necessary attention, the catfish tattoo on her neck did. And if, by some odd happenstance, folks managed to overlook that, she got them with her décor at the coffee shop.

  An eclectic collection of colorful plastic fish heads and skeletons hung on the walls, and black fishnet hung from the ceiling above with shimmering iridescent shells dangling below. Bright coffee mugs lined the lengthy front counter, which Tucker, Tilly’s twin brother, had painted in blue and white ocean wave patterns. The mugs she had designed herself, shaping them like fish, their fins serving as handles. They seemed to swim above the Technicolor waves in a dizzying array.

  “So, Mom, I hear Wendell Meeks’ been hanging around your place a lot these days. What’s up with that?”

  “Up with that?” Sassy asked. Something in her daughter’s tone sparked her curiosity. “What makes you think something’s up?”

  “Come on now, Mom. Get real.”

  “I’m very real, thank you, and I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” she said, totally taken aback. “He just came out to fix the lock on the door at the shop a couple of weeks back, that’s all.”

  Tilly shook her head. “I thought Tucker was supposed to take care of those kinds of things for you.”

  “He is.” Sassy chose her words with care. “But you know your brother.”

  Tucker had always been completely irresponsible, putting his own needs above those of others. He couldn’t seem to see past himself, no matter how many times the Lord gave him opportunity to do so.

  Tilly had risen above her twin brother in many ways, graduating from high school first in her class and finishing her business degree at the college in only three years instead of four. Unfortunately, many in Calista couldn’t see past her artistic appearance to notice her good features.

  She’s such a wonderful girl at heart, Lord. If only people could see that side of her.

  To be honest, most were too irritated at her for buying out Harry’s Barbershop and putting the Café’ Latte in its place to consider the possibilities. Others pointed fingers because she kept the coffee shop open on Sundays. It had become a haven for Calista’s troubled teens. Tilly subtly enticed them with her wacky personality, her warm muffins and fishfuls of hot coffee. Many hadn’t been back to church since the shop opened.

  If Joe knew about that, Sassy thought to herself, he’d be spinning in his grave like a chicken on a rotisserie.

  “Call Tucker again,” Tilly said, jolting her back to reality. “He’ll come out and fix whatever you need. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “That’s not necessary. It’s all done. Wendell fixed the lock. He even replaced the seal on the freezer and fastened down some loose tiles on the roof.” Sassy smiled, remembering the image of his red head bobbing up and down as he hammered away.

  “Mom, be honest with me here. Do you like him?” Tilly’s voice had an accusing tone.

  “Like him?” How should she go about answering such a crazy question? Wendell Meeks had been Joe’s best friend. Of course she liked him. She had always liked him. “He’s a n
ice man,” Sassy said with a shrug. “What’s not to like?”

  “You just be careful,” Tilly said, turning to wipe the countertop.

  “Be careful?” What in the world was she talking about? “Don’t go making mountains out of molehills, Tilly Mae,” she admonished.

  “But Mom, everyone in town is talking about it.”

  Sassy’s anger rose immediately, squeezing breath out of her. “Who’s everyone?”

  “Fanny, for one. I went over to pick up some creamer this morning and she told me you and Wendell were an item. ‘Two for One Special.’ That’s what she called you.”

  “Don’t you know any better than to listen to Fanny?” Sassy asked heatedly. “That woman has such a big mouth, she can sing a duet all by herself. And if anyone in this town is a ‘two for one special…’ No, I won’t say it.” Lord, forgive me. I’m trying to be good. “And for your information, if I ever felt like I needed a man, which I won’t, I’d pick out one on my own. I wouldn’t need you to do it for me.”

  Tilly shook her head in defeat. “I just thought you’d like to know what everyone’s been saying.”

  Sue Ellen chose that moment to enter the shop, bags in hand. “I just came from Fanny’s,” she said, dropping them onto the floor and sitting at the counter with a deep sigh. “I thought I’d never get out of there alive. She’s got a special on honey buns this week. Two for one. Get it? Two for one!” She began to rock back and forth with laughter.

  Sassy slapped herself in the head.

  “So, I hear Wendell Meeks has been turning up at your place a lot these days.” Sue Ellen sounded more than a little interested.

  “What are you, the Calista Courier?”

  Sue Ellen looked startled. “Well, I just—”

  “Why don’t you all just mind your own business?” Sassy’s voice rose, along with her temper.

  “Why, Sassy Hatchett. I do declare! I think you’re protesting just a bit too much.”

  Lord, I’m halfway to the pier already. If You can just get me out of here, I’ll do my best to repent for the things I’m wanting to say.

  Sassy stood and forced her lips together, begging the words to stay put. “I’ve got to go, ladies. I have a sudden urge to go fishing.”

  ***

  Wendell stared long and hard at the checkerboard before making a move. His mind wasn’t really on the game, anyway. It had drifted nearly a dozen miles away, to a certain scenic spot on Crab Cove.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Gus leaned back in his chair. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Nah.”

  “Well, what then? You ain’t been yourself for days now. Are you sick?”

  “Nope.”

  “Is it the hairdo? People still giving you a hard time? I had a long talk with that granddaughter of mine. Told her she turned you into the laughing stock of Calista.”

  Wendell shrugged, trying not to think about his hair. For two long weeks he had agonized over it, finally opting to have it cut shorter than he’d ever worn it. The new roots were beginning to peek through, their soft gray streaks providing him some sense of comfort and hope.

  “Something wrong up at the post office, then?” Gus asked, looking up as a car pulled into the station’s only self-service pump.

  “Nope. Fine, fine.” A little too fine, possibly. Nothing there to distract him from the one thing that really held his mind captive.

  Sassy. Day and night he thought of little else. He had grown to admire her amazing wit and uncanny sense of humor. The days he’d spent out at her place had lit a fire in him like nothing he had ever felt before. “Sassy’s just fine,” he said with a nod.

  “Sassy? Who said anything about Sassy?” Gus looked at him with a worried expression.

  “Oh, I meant to say ‘work’s fine,’” Wendell explained, shifting his eyes back to the checkerboard, and hoping Gus would let the moment pass.

  He didn’t.

  “Sure don’t know what any man would see in a woman like Sassy Hatchett,” Gus said with a wicked grin. “That girl fell out of the ugly tree when she was just a kid and hit every branch on the way down. And that temper of hers…”

  Just one more word and I’m leaving.

  “You can’t argue with a cantankerous woman like Sassy.” Gus shook his head. “She'd try to have the last word with an echo.”

  That’s it. Wendell stood suddenly, knocking over the checkerboard. The red and black pieces scattered all over the parking lot, spinning madly. I’m not putting up with this anymore. He turned to walk away, not even offering so much as a word of explanation to his friend.

  “Hey, where ya goin?” Gus hollered out.

  Wendell never had time to answer. Just as he stepped out onto Main Street, Sassy raced by in her work truck, nearly running him down.

  ***

  “Lord, here I am again.” Sassy stared up at the sky, basking a moment in the mesmerizing red and gold sunset. “Looks like we’ve got some talking to do. Again.” She slowly baited her hook and cast her line far out into the water. “What am I gonna do with Tilly, Lord? She’s so much like me, it hurts. Maybe I just worry too much about what people think. Guess that’s wrong.” Sassy felt something begin to tug at her line. She squinted, the sun playing tricks on her eyes. “People ‘round here sure have a way of driving me to the edge of my sanity. And what’s all this talk about Wendell Meeks? Do they, for one cotton-pickin’ minute think I’ve got some kind of feelings for him? Have I ever let on like that?”

  She fought to reel in the catch, but something felt wrong, very wrong. Sassy struggled to see past the dizzying colors to what held her line taut. She took a step towards the edge of the pier, shielding her eyes from the glare. What in the world? She appeared to have snagged a large branch. She pulled with all her might, trying to free the hook, but it didn’t seem to want to let go. She struggled, refusing to give up her hold.

  Taking another small step forward, Sassy Hatchett suddenly found herself plummeting face-first into the gray-brown waters of the Biloxi River.

  ***

  Wendell exited his car and made his way toward the pier. If he didn’t do it now, he never would. He couldn’t wait one moment longer to tell Sassy what his heart had been longing for weeks to say. Sassy Hatchett, I’m crazy about you. I just want to know if there’s any chance in the world you could ever feel the same way about me.

  Just as he stepped onto the pier, he heard a thunderous splash. Off in the distance he saw it. Someone had just fallen into the river. Someone dressed in old blue overalls and a dingy fishing hat. “Help me, help!” An arm shot up out of the water, waving about frantically.

  “Sassy? Sassy, is that you?” he hollered as he ran along the edge of the pier.

  Her head emerged from the water, covered in a mesh of twigs, leaves and fish bait. “Confound it! Can you help me, Wendell? I’m caught up in this fishing line.” She sounded more exasperated than frightened as she dog-paddled toward the pier.

  Wendell reached for the pole, which had lodged itself between the wooden slats of the pier. The line had wrapped itself around Sassy several times. You’re a feisty one, Sassy Hatchett! He fought to free her, finally cutting the nylon with a fishing knife.

  She grabbed hold of the edge of the wooden pier and looked up at him like a drowned cat

  “I lost my hat,” she muttered, looking around frantically.

  “It’s just a hat, Sassy.” He extended his hand to help her up. “You can always get another one.”

  She took hold of his hand, nearly pulling him in. He fought to stand maintain his balance as he pulled her up out of the water and onto the safety of the pier.

  Sassy, you’re so beautiful.

  “You don’t understand,” she said, water rolling down her cheeks. “Joe gave me that hat. If I’ve lost it, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  Wendell squinted against the glare of the colorful September sunset, trying to focus on the water. Nothing. He glanced along the pier. There, just yards away, s
at the missing hat, perched atop Sassy’s tackle box. “Looks like you’re in luck,” he said, picking it up and handing it to her.

  She placed atop her wet head, looking flushed and irritated. “I’ve got to go,” she mumbled, reaching for her tackle box and pole. She sighed, looking at the cut line. “Nothing’s ever easy.” She turned away from him, avoiding his gaze.

  “But Sassy, don’t you want me to come with you?” he asked, trudging along behind her, dejected. “At least let me drive you up to the house. It’s nearly half a mile and you’re soaked to the bone.”

  “Nope.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Wendell. Just go on home now, okay? I need a chance to dry out on my own. Thank you very much for saving my neck, but if it’s all the same to you, I need to be alone right now.”

  Wendell shrugged, defeated. “Fine.” He never had a chance to say what he had come to say in the first place. Now, watching her standing here in soggy clothing with the sun going down behind him, he felt he never would.

  Chapter Four

  The sun rose on a beautiful Sunday morning. Sassy walked out onto the front porch of her large, wood-framed home with a cup of black coffee in her hand, breathing in the scent of the fresh morning dew and listening to the birds in the oak tree to her right.

  “I haven’t missed a church service for nearly six years, Lord. But I just can’t make myself go today. I can’t face Wendell. I just can’t.”

  She took a sip of the hot brew, settling down into the chipped metal chair, deep in thought. “I’d watch church on the television, but those TV preachers all make me so dang mad. All they want is my money. Back in my day, a preacher lived a life of poverty. That’s the way it oughta be.”

  Staring out onto her vast property, Sassy’s thoughts shifted slightly. This place is a mess, Lord. Just look at all that stuff Tucker left over there. Her eyes rested on a broken-down car to her right—tires missing and paint peeling. It, along with the hodge-podge collection of tires piled up behind it, was a grim reminder of Tucker’s years as a wanna-be mechanic. He’s a wanna-be son, too.