CeCe came into my room wearing one black, strappy shoe with her black suit, carrying a black pump in her hand. She looked at me with a question mark expression. “Yes, we’re meeting them there,” she answered distractedly. “Look it, here’s the deal. I want to wear the black strappy shoes, but I know this is a solemn occasion, with a woman being dead and all. That makes me think maybe I should wear the pumps. What do you think?”
I tried to look thoughtful for a few seconds, so my words of wisdom would be more believable when I gave my advice. When I opened my mouth to respond, CeCe began her justification for why I should pick the ones she had already decided on before I was able to say anything. She just didn’t know she’d already made her decision. Is she related to my mother or what?
“See, the strappy ones make my legs look sexier and no, I shouldn’t be worried about my legs looking sexy, except that Deputy Ben will be there. Can’t I support the sisters through this difficult time and still try to look my best? When you think about it, the sexiness is to help my mom, so wouldn’t that be considered one way I’m helping her cope with the loss of her club member and friend?” she explained.
I could tell CeCe was picking up momentum, so I let her go with it.
“I mean, if Deputy Ben notices my sexy legs and finally asks me out, and we become an item, we could get engaged,” she continued. “That would lead to the wedding of my mother’s dreams, then her happily married daughter could find out she’s pregnant, and Mother could be there at the hospital when the baby’s born. She’d be so proud of her first grandchild who looks so much like Ben that we’d think it would be cute to name him Bart, you know – sticking with a ‘B’ name. When you think about it, I’d really be wearing the black strappies for my mother’s benefit. You know how much she wants grandchildren.”
You gotta love her. I had trouble suppressing the smile that crept onto my face as I listened to this scenario. “Bart?” I asked, softly. “You’re going to name your son Bart?”
“What’s wrong with Bart?” CeCe asked, sounding slightly offended that I didn’t love her baby’s name.
“You do realize you just named your child Bart Simpson, don’t you?” I had to ask.
As recognition began to register in CeCe’s expression, my cell phone rang. I went over to dig in my purse for the phone while it serenaded me with Journey’s song, “Any way you want it.”
CeCe quietly headed back to her room to slip into the other strappy shoe. When I located the phone and saw that it was my mother calling, I kind of wished we were already in the car. I suspected I knew why she was calling.
“Maggie, where are you girls?” my mother demanded. “We thought you’d be here by now. You know how difficult it is to park if you get here at the last minute.”
Last minute? I felt my eyes shoot heavenward.
“Mother, we’ll be leaving in five minutes, we’re ten minutes away, and the funeral doesn’t start for another 45 minutes. That means we’ll be there a good half hour before time to begin,” I pointed out.
“Okay, dear, whatever you think. I just hate to see you girls have trouble parking because you cut it so close,” my mother informed me.
Although I could have taken the time, and elevated my blood pressure, to explain that 30 minutes is NOT cutting it close, I responded, “We’ll hurry.” It’s just easier.
“Let’s roll, CeCe. The sisters are getting anxious because we’re so late,” I yelled, unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice.
As CeCe met me in the living room, she tried to suppress a smile as she pointed out the obvious.
“Didn’t we plan to get there half an hour earlier than necessary in order to avoid having the sisters become anxious?” she inquired.
“Yes, we did,” I agreed. “Once again they have proven themselves formidable adversaries and were able to achieve new heights of anxiety in record time. Let’s go.”
After CeCe parked her Toyota with no problem, we approached the people standing around the general vicinity of the mausoleum. My mother had explained to us earlier that Eliza’s family opted to have the service graveside rather than in the church or funeral home. This being a smallish town, there was probably much discussion on the wisdom of breaking with the traditional indoor service followed by the trek over to the gravesite for burial. Since Eliza’s brother and his wife were from Ohio, they finalized the arrangements through the funeral home before arriving in town.
Word on the street was that the northerners were more than a little surprised to discover that we don’t bury our dead in the ground here in South Louisiana. It wouldn’t do to have our loved ones washing back up to the surface after a heavy rain. With our moist (well, swampy) ground, that is exactly what would happen. Fortunately, Eliza lived in this area for the last 55 years and had the foresight to make the majority of her funeral plans prior to her death. Knowing her family wasn’t from this area and the hardship that it would create for them, her attention to the details indicated she was a practical, thoughtful woman. Her actions reminded me of my mother and Aunt Shirley, which made me sad. Being reminded they had things in common with the murdered woman was very unsettling. I always find funerals sad and sympathize with the friends and family of the departed. The thoughts linking Eliza and the sisters in my mind brought more sadness than I had expected at a stranger’s funeral.
“Are you all right, dear?”
I’d been so lost in thought I didn’t notice CeCe had moved on and was currently mingling with the other mourners. Nor had I noticed the elderly gentleman approach until he spoke and snapped me back to the present time.
“You looked upset, and I wanted to see if there’s anything I can do to help. Sometimes talking helps. I’m Barney,” he explained as he introduced himself.
Although he had a few decades on me, this man had obviously been very handsome in his day. Wait a minute. Did he say his name was Barney? Luke was talking to Fry about his Uncle Barney. Coincidence or the same person? That would explain his ‘good-looking back in the day’ appearance.
“No, I’m fine. But I’m so sorry for your loss. Were you and Miss Eliza close?” I asked. I silently reminded myself this was not the time or place to ask him if he did, in fact, have a nephew named Luke, and if said nephew was looking to settle down with a good woman, have 2.2 children, and maybe even a German Shepherd named Hansel?
“She was a dear friend, and I’ll miss her tremendously,” he responded. As he spoke, a little moisture developed in the corners of his eyes.
Oh, dear. I’m afraid I inherited my mother’s bluntness at times, and when it comes to comforting others, that is not a good thing. It works with CeCe, but she has known me all her life and can read my intentions between the words that tend to come out somewhat tactless. This man doesn’t know me and can’t be expected to make allowances for my gene pool, so I tried to think of what CeCe would say. I got nothing.
“There, there,” I awkwardly attempted to comfort him as I patted his arm and looked around for CeCe to give her the ‘get over here’ look. Success! There she is talking to Luke. TALKING TO LUKE! NO! While CeCe might say the correct thing in emotional situations at times, she could be counted on to lose that ability when she’s ‘helping me’ attract a guy’s attention. Believe me, this has come up before, and it never went well.
Fortunately, Barney seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and didn’t really notice my lame attempt at comforting. “We had coffee together at least once every week,” he confided. “I told her stories that made her laugh, and she counted on me. She entrusted me with her inheritance, you know. I told her ‘Eliza, you know Gus Jenson down at the bank. He can help you out,’ but she wouldn’t hear of it. Said I was the only one. Made me feel special that way, you know?”
As I listened to Barney talk I became convinced this was Luke’s uncle. In the conversation I’d overheard, he mentioned the poor man making sense one minute and losing you the next. It was time to change the subject and go for a less emotional topic.
“Luke?” Barney looked at me blankly for a few seconds, but then I saw the relief in his face. “Luke, yes, he’s a fine boy. My brother would be so proud of that boy coming all the way back here just to make sure I’m not lonely. He’s living with me now, you know. He was always checking in on me before, but now he’s here whenever I need him. Fine boy! You’re friends with Luke?”
“I don’t really know him all that. . . ,” I started to explain.
Barney grabbed my arm, and pulled me in Luke’s general direction. “Oh, sure, sure. You gotta meet Luke. Luke! Luke!” Barney yelled as we headed toward Luke and CeCe who were still engrossed in conversation.
My mind didn’t work fast enough to do anything except go with the flow on this one. Wow, Luke’s Uncle Barney must have been working out as well, because he had some grip on him. Besides, CeCe and Luke had stopped talking and were watching us approach, so any momentary fantasy I had of escaping without being seen was out of the question. Did CeCe just wink at me with one of those ‘I took care of it’ smiles? This funeral just kept getting better and better!
“Luke, I was just talking to – I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Barney apologized as he discovered he couldn’t make introductions.
“Maggie,” Luke and I responded at the same time.
“And I should be the one apologizing to you,” I continued. “I didn’t introduce myself.”
Barney chuckled, “Well, I notice my nephew came up with your name quick enough and already found a lovely lady to keep company with this morning. I guess you take after your Uncle Barney, Luke! I have always been pretty popular with the ladies, if I do say so.”
“Well, Uncle Barney, you are, and you do say so all the time,” Luke laughed as he and his uncle shared a comfortable grin. It was obvious they were very fond of each other. “These lovely ladies are Fry’s bosses,” Luke continued. “I went to high school with them and just ran into them again yesterday. This is CeCe, Uncle Barney,” Luke introduced the only person in our foursome his uncle hadn’t met.
“CeCe was just telling me about some of the things Maggie has accomplished since high school,” Luke informed Uncle Barney. He then turned his attention to me as he pierced me with his warm, brown eyes. “I have to admit I’m impressed and feeling a little inadequate in your presence.”
Although Luke said this with a smile, it didn’t really lessen the blow I felt which just slammed me in the gut.
While I gave them all a tentative smile on the outside, inside a voice was screaming, What did you do, CeCe? WHAT DID YOU DO? Unfortunately, the earth refused to open and swallow me up, so I was about to find out. Dumb earth!
“Working with adults unable to read?” Luke remarked incredulously. “Big Sister to a motherless girl who was in trouble as a juvenile offender, but now, thanks to you, is on the honor roll?” Luke went on without any opportunity for me to respond, not that I knew how to diffuse this. “And your work at the hospital. Reading to sick children and holding newborns in the neonatal unit? Those are not small contributions. I hope this community realizes all the hard work you do.”
“We’re waiting to hear from the Vatican on the sainthood nomination,” I advised him and grabbed CeCe by the arm as I spoke. “It’s good seeing you again Luke, but I really need to borrow my cousin for a moment. Would you excuse us? Nice meeting you Barney,” I said as my exit line while I hauled CeCe away from the others.
“I’m going to kill you so dead,” I threatened through clenched teeth, still smiling just in case anyone was looking. “CeCe, how could you make up all that stuff? What were you thinking? What is he going to think of me when he finds out everything you told him is a lie? How are you going to explain why you lied?”
“I’ll tell him I’m as shocked as he is, because I believed you when you told me all that stuff,” she replied solemnly.
The look on my face must have made her realize she’d already had enough fun at my expense.
“Kidding! I’m kidding,” she assured me in an attempt to keep me from losing it in a big way. “C’mon, Maggie, how is he going to find out none of that is true?”
“Are you serious?” I asked all shocked. “This town is the size of a postage stamp. Everybody knows everybody else. He repeats that to anybody, and they will set him straight before he can say Big Fat Liar!” I was holding it together by a thread, and that strand was beginning to get a little frayed.
“You are overreacting. Everyone embellishes their resume,” CeCe explained, as if that should make me feel better.
With a tenuous hold on that frayed thread, I leaned into CeCe and said just above a whisper, “I wasn’t applying for a job, CeCe! This is going to ruin . . . .”
“There they are. Girls!” I heard my mother’s sigh of relief from 20 feet away. She was walking toward us with her arm around a distraught Shirley. “CeCe, Maggie, I have to go speak to Eliza’s family, because I’m representing the City Council. I don’t feel right about abandoning Shirley when she’s so upset.” Pearl turned to Shirley, “There, there dear.”
So that’s where I got it.
“The girls will stay with you, won’t you girls?” Although it was phrased in the form of a question, the look on Mother’s face left no wiggle room for our response.
“Of course we’re here for you, Aunt Shirley,” I rushed in to put my arm around her shoulder, since my mother had removed hers and was backing away.
“We’ll take care of her Aunt Pearl,” CeCe practically oozed with relief. No doubt she was enjoying the fact that I had been interrupted before I was able to say something we would probably both regret later. I’d regret that I said it, and she’d wish that she hadn’t deserved it.
CeCe turned her attention to her mother. “I know it’s upsetting, but did something happen to make you this sad before the service even started?”
Shirley nodded, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose with the tissue in her hand. She tried to speak clearly, “I was just talking to Viola Simpson from the Garden Club. Her nephew is a deputy with the Sheriff’s Department, you know. I believe he was a few years ahead of you girls in high school. He’s a good-looking boy, used to be on the track team, his aunt was telling me.”
“Mother,” CeCe interrupted, since Aunt Shirley’s stories tended to be heavy with detail. Normally, CeCe would love to hear more since her mom was referring to her one and only true love, Deputy Ben. None of this was news to CeCe, because if it was a detail about Ben, CeCe already had it down in triplicate. “You were going to tell us why you’re so upset,” CeCe nudged Shirley back on topic.
“Viola’s nephew, Ben, is involved in Eliza’s murder investigation, and she just told me Eliza was beat up pretty badly before she was strangled.” The tears began to flow once more but more calmly this time. “Isn’t that just awful? That poor dear. What she must have gone through. To live such a peaceful life and have it end with such violence. It’s so sad,” Aunt Shirley was not able to say anything more now that her tears were seriously streaming again.
I had to admit I was getting a little misty-eyed myself. Why would anyone feel it was necessary to beat an 82 year old woman? She couldn’t have been a threat to anyone. It didn’t make sense. Aunt Shirley was right. That was no way to leave this world.
CeCe attempted to steer her mother back to Ben’s aunt, since focusing on Viola, who was alive, seemed less painful. “So, Deputy Ben told his aunt the horrible details of Eliza’s death?” CeCe inquired.
“Ben loves his aunt, and I’m sure they have no secrets. They’re very close, since she is one of the few relatives he has left.” Shirley hesitated for only a second and then added in a conspiratorial tone, “Actually, he didn’t want to upset her by going into the sad details. She ended up accidentally overhearing his phone conversation w
ith the sheriff’s office. Ben was at her house when the office called to give Ben the autopsy results. He didn’t want to disturb his aunt, such a thoughtful boy, so he took his cell phone and went onto the porch to take down the information. Viola went into the living room, which was a little stuffy, so she had to raise the window. Then she noticed some dust, so she stayed to tidy up and accidentally overheard Ben’s conversation.”
Shirley was making this all sound coincidental, but I wasn’t buying it. From the smirk CeCe was trying to hide, I suspected she wasn’t either. There was no benefit to pointing out the questionable coincidence, since a mother’s right to know usually outweighs any privacy issue. It falls under the category of legally entitled concern in her child’s life and wellbeing. Viola’s now deceased brother was Ben’s father, so I’m sure in her mind there is some sort of clause to that rule that allowed her to stand in for Ben’s mother in certain situations. If she was anything like the sisters, there wasn’t much she couldn’t justify.
“C’mon, Mother. Let’s go sit for a minute until you feel better.” CeCe shot me a look just before steering Shirley toward the rows of chairs that had been set up. The look said, “I’d better take care of her,” but I suspected she was thinking “I’ve got the Mom Shield, so you can’t fuss at me now.”
Since Aunt Shirley was taken care of, I headed back to talk with Luke who was standing alone with Barney. The good thing about holding on to my anger with CeCe was that it seemed to counteract my fear of saying something stupid in front of him. Good. Maybe I could correct the initial impression I’d made as an empty-headed klutz.
When Barney saw me approaching, he gave me a wave and slight nod as he headed toward Eliza’s family who were engrossed in a conversation with my mother. Luke remained and smiled at me as I walked over. I tried not to look directly into the pools of warm chocolate, I mean his brown eyes, without giving the impression that I was intentionally avoiding the pools of — well, you know what I mean. My intention was to launch into the subject of him in order to avoid any more discussion about me, but he beat me to the punch.
NOT What I Was Expecting Page 6