by Fannie Flagg
The diet clinic woman said, “Miss Whittle, you don’t have a problem with willpower; you are a food addict. You are as addicted to sugar and carbohydrates as a heroin addict is addicted to heroin. The only way to permanently lose the weight is to cut out both sugar and wheat completely.”
Okay. Suppose she did sign up for all the appointments, waste all that time and money, go through all that misery to lose weight, then what? She’d just be an unhappy skinny person with probably a lot of loose skin. The doctor had said that if she lost all that fat, she would add another good ten years onto her life.
Norvaleen thought about it, but if she couldn’t eat bread and ice cream, she wasn’t sure she wanted another ten years. She decided she would rather have dessert, and never went back to the clinic.
—
IT WAS A FRIDAY morning a few years later when, with great effort, Norvaleen hauled herself out of her car one leg at a time, caught her breath, and headed across the parking lot to the CVS Pharmacy. When she got close to the mall, she heard a lot of commotion coming from inside; people were screaming and falling down on the ground. Someone yelled, “Stop! Stop him!” She looked up just in time to see a man with a gun running out the glass door with the security guard right behind him. Norvaleen didn’t have much time to think. She just crossed her arms and stepped in front of him, blocking his path. He ran into her so hard that the gun popped out of his hand, and he fell. She quickly sat down on him and stayed there until the police came. And a good thing, too. As it turned out, the man had just robbed a Kay Jewelers.
People who witnessed it said that no matter how hard that man squirmed and wriggled underneath her, he couldn’t get up. The criminal would later claim the woman who had captured him weighed more than six hundred pounds, which wasn’t true, but it had taken three firemen and a bystander to pull Norvaleen up to her feet.
After all the excitement was over and the thief had been handcuffed and driven away, the policeman taking down her information suddenly looked up at her in surprise. “Norvaleen? Are you Norvaleen Whittle? We went to school together. Do you remember me? I’m Billy…Billy McMichael?”
She turned a strange color of pink. She remembered him. He was the boy she had been in love with.
—
THAT AFTERNOON, CATHY CALVERT interviewed her for the paper and wrote an article that appeared on the front page with the headline:
* * *
LOCAL WOMAN RESTRAINS THIEF AT MALL
* * *
Norvaleen didn’t tell Cathy, but she hadn’t restrained him on purpose. She just couldn’t get up. Someone with a phone had shot a video of her sitting on the man and posted it on YouTube. And of course, there were the usual jokes made by mean-spirited individuals, mostly teenage boys, but most people were impressed by her bravery. People said, “Maybe Norvaleen couldn’t give chase…but she sure as hell could stop one!”
In appreciation for her bravery, she was given a $100 gift certificate to all the stores at the mall, including every restaurant at the food court. Later, she received a Civilian Hero award from the mayor and was given an honorary Deputy of Police badge by Chief Ralph Childress. For the occasion, Norvaleen bought a new large black dress at Ross Dress for Less and a pair of formal flip-flops with rhinestones.
That night, Billy picked her up in his police car to take her to the ceremony. As he was driving her back home, he asked, “Would you have dinner with me sometime?”
Billy had married one of the pretty girls in high school, but it had not worked out. He was divorced, and for the past three years he’d been living in a bad apartment complex across town.
At first, it was dinner a couple of times a week, then as time went by, Billy started staying overnight. Norvaleen was so happy, and without much effort, a year later, she was back to being only chubby, which was fine with Billy. He found out he really liked a big girl. A year later, Norvaleen used the gift certificate from Kay Jewelers to buy a wedding ring for Billy.
It takes time and a lot of suffering, but sometimes, when you least expect it, life has a strange way of working out. She had been heading to the drugstore to pick up some Cortizone 10 for eczema, and look what happened. She was the last person in the world she thought would have a happy ending.
2012
When Cathy Calvert ran into Norma at the drugstore, she was surprised to see her on crutches.
“Oh, Norma…what happened?”
“I broke my foot.”
“How?”
“Well, I was out at the mall shopping at the big Macy’s. Macky needed some new undershirts, and they had some on sale in the basement. Anyhow, I was headed down there when my cellphone rang, and I went to pull it out of my purse, and I must not have been paying attention, because when I went to step on the first step of the escalator, I missed it and the next thing I knew I was falling…rolling and tumbling with my dress over my head all the way down, and there wasn’t another person on it to stop my fall.”
“Oh, no!”
“Yes, and while I was falling, all I could think about was that when I got to the bottom of that escalator, that thing would grab my dress and pull me in it, and I would be chewed to pieces, so all the way down, I was yelling, ‘Turn it off! Turn it off!’ Well, thank goodness, some quick-thinking employee at the jewelry counter ran over and at the very last minute, flipped the switch and saved me from being ripped to shreds. But I had landed at the bottom sideways and was stuck upside down and couldn’t move. There I was, all cattywampus with my legs up in the air, and at that exact moment, who should walk by but my old school friend Kathy Gilmore, who I hadn’t seen in over twelve years, and she looks down at me and says, ‘Norma? Is that you?’ ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s me.’ She said, ‘Well, what in the world are you doing here?’ I said, ‘I’ve just fallen down the escalator, and I’m stuck. Call 911.’ So she said, ‘I sure will, hon,’ and by then, a huge crowd had gathered all around, and me with my dress ripped to shreds. Oh, it was a mess. I was scraped and scratched from top to bottom. I was in the hospital for a week. And do you know what the worst part was? The person who was calling me on the phone that caused me to almost kill myself wasn’t even a person. It was a junk call…some machine! Can you imagine?”
Cathy said, “Oh my gosh, Norma, you could have been killed, falling down those stairs. Remember what happened to poor Hanna Marie.”
“Don’t think it didn’t occur to me. The whole time I was falling, I kept thinking, ‘Oh, no, don’t tell me I’m going to wind up like Hanna Marie.’ ”
The headline read:
* * *
BELOVED CITIZEN FALLS TO HER DEATH
* * *
—
IT WAS THE HOUSEKEEPER who found Hanna Marie at the bottom of the stairs in the morning, when she came to work. The coroner said she had died instantly. When the word spread all over town, everybody was upset and saddened. But later, when they found out that her husband had been in New York on one of his many so-called business trips, they had been infuriated.
As Norma said to Macky, “Imagine, leaving a poor deaf woman alone all night in that big house while you’re off somewhere living it up…and on her dime, too. I don’t know how he can live with himself.”
Considering her age and the condition of her health, everyone expected Irene Goodnight would be the next of their friends to arrive at Still Meadows. But to their surprise, the very next person was Hanna Marie Swensen.
—
HANNA MARIE’S DEMISE PRESENTED a problem Lucille Beemer had not faced before. How would she be able to speak to a deaf person?
As she had feared, when she spoke to Hanna Marie, there was no answer. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I feel so terrible. I just have no way to communicate with her and let her know where she is.”
Verbena said, “Well, Lucille, I don’t know what to tell you. We can talk our heads off until the cows come home, and she won’t hear a thing. And it’s too bad, too. I’d just love to chat with her and find out what she has to
say about that no-good, two-timing husband of hers. He’s been cheating on her for years with every bimbo in town.”
Then, suddenly, a woman’s voice said, “I think I can hear.”
“Hanna Marie?” asked Lucille.
“Yes, I think so. Is that me I hear talking?”
An amazed Lucille answered, “Yes, it is most certainly you!”
“Am I making real words?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And saying them right?”
“Perfectly.”
“Am I too loud? I can’t tell.”
“No, not at all, and you have a beautiful speaking voice. What a delightful surprise….Oh, my dear, just wait until your parents find out.” Lucille then called out, “Beatrice! Ander! Say hello to your daughter.”
Beatrice spoke first. “Darling, this is Mother. Can you hear me?”
“Oh, yes, Mother, I can!”
Ander said, “Honey, this is your daddy.”
“Oh Daddy, I can’t believe it.”
Verbena Wheeler, who had been listening in, could no longer contain herself and started yelling at the top of her voice, “Oh, my God. It’s Hanna Marie and she can talk and hear!”
It was quite a moment. For the first time, Beatrice and Ander could talk with their daughter, and for the first time, she could hear them.
Elner waited for the three of them to talk a little while, then she said, “Hello, sweetheart. This is your big ol’ aunt Elner saying hello.”
Hanna Marie said, “Aunt Elner, I’m so happy to hear your voice. Oh, thank you for being so kind to me all my life.”
“Well, honey, that’s all right. You were always easy to be kind to.”
“Hanna Marie, this is your great-aunt Katrina Nordstrom speaking, and I just wanted to say that I know just how you feel. I had gone completly blind, but when I got here I could see.”
Suddenly everybody wanted to talk to Hanna Marie and weigh in on the miracle.
—
HANNA MARIE TALKED ALL DAY long with so many friends and family. At around six o’clock that evening, Old Man Hendersen said, “Good Lord, that girl is a talker. Is she ever going to shut up?”
—
LATER, AFTER THE SUN had gone down, the Goodnights, as a special welcome, sang a three-part harmony version of “Over the Rainbow.”
After it was over, Hanna Marie said, “Oh, thank you so much, ladies. So that’s what music sounds like. I always wondered. It’s so lovely and soothing. And how wonderful for you ladies to be able to sing so beautifully.”
At that moment Hanna Marie’s great-aunt Birdie Swensen called out, “For goodness’ sake, Elner, don’t you dare sing now. Let the poor girl have her illusions a little while longer.”
Elner laughed. “I’ll try not to, Birdie. I’ll give her a couple of days to adjust.”
Before she went to sleep, Ruby whispered to Verbena, “Verbena, you shouldn’t have said all that stuff earlier about Hanna Marie’s husband cheating on her.”
Verbena said, “Well, how was I supposed to know she could hear? I just hope to God she wasn’t listening.”
—
THE NEXT DAY, when all the excitement had died down a little, Lucille Beemer asked Hanna Marie exactly what had happened.
“When I woke up I started hearing sounds. At first I didn’t know what it was.”
Lucille said, “No, I mean, what brought you up to Still Meadows?”
“Oh, that. Well, I honestly don’t know. But I guess something must have happened, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“No.”
“No. Oh dear, I wonder what it was. I know that Michael was out of town, and the last thing I remember was getting up and heading down to the kitchen…then after that, nothing.”
“Well, don’t worry about it. We’ll find out. Somebody will come up and tell us, but in the meantime, everyone is just thrilled you are here.”
“Oh, me, too, Miss Beemer. I’m afraid I haven’t been very happy lately.”
—
VERBENA WHISPERED TO RUBY, “Did you hear that, Ruby? Hanna Marie said the husband was ‘out of town.’ She may know more than we thought.”
If Lester Shingle had a mustache, he would have been twirling it. Irene Goodnight, the last of his murder suspects, had just come up to Still Meadows, and he was finally going to have his day in court. The next morning, he confronted all four in a loud, booming voice. “This is Lester Shingle speaking! I know one of you did it, and whoever it was, you may think you got away with it. But you didn’t.”
It was true that all four women had threatened to kill him at one time or another.
They had all known he was the notorious Peeping Tom. Ada and Bess Goodnight had told him that if they ever caught him anywhere close to their house they would shoot him. Irene said she’d skin him alive. And Tot Whooten had threatened something even worse involving scissors.
Ada was the first to speak and said, “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. My murder.”
“What?”
“One of you hit me in the head with a bowling ball and killed me in cold blood in the Blue Star Bowling Alley parking lot back in April of 1952, and I intend to find out which one.”
Tot couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you crazy, Lester? You weren’t hit in the head with a bowling ball, you idiot! You slipped on the ice and hit your head on Mildred Ogleby’s car. Oh, for God’s sake.” Then Tot called out, “Hey, Billy!”
“Yeah?”
“It’s Tot Whooten.”
“Oh, hey, Tot, how’s the old left-hander?”
“Just fine….Listen, Billy, I have a question for you. Didn’t you see Lester fall and hit his head on Mrs. Ogleby’s car, and didn’t you call an ambulance?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“The idiot thinks he was hit in the head by a bowling ball.”
“What? Nah. He cracked his head open on her headlight—bent the hell out of it as I remember.”
Mrs. Ogleby, the owner of the 1946 Buick, joined in. “He’s right, Lester, and it cost me an arm and a leg to get it fixed, too.”
Tot said, “See? I ain’t lying.”
After a long pause, Lester said, “Well, shoot. All these years, I thought I had been murdered….Now I feel kinda despondent.”
Irene Goodnight weighed in. “Well, if it’s any consolation to you, if I had seen you that night, I would have killed you.”
“Well, thanks, at least I wasn’t too far off. But still, it’s a big disappointment. All these years thinking I’d been a victim of a crime, and it wasn’t nothing but an accident.”
Bess said, “Well, you know what they say, Lester. There are no accidents.”
“And people get what’s coming to them one way or the other,” added Verbena.
“Yeah, I guess so….But now that I’m not a victim, I feel like a big old nobody….Shoot.”
—
SO, AS IT TURNED out, poor Lester Shingle had not been murdered after all. But that didn’t mean there hadn’t been a murder in Elmwood Springs….
Although she’d been deceased for quite a while now, Verbena Wheeler was still a busybody. Today she was busy staring at the woman who was standing over Hanna Marie Swensen’s grave.
Verbena whispered to Ruby, “Hey, who’s that redheaded woman over at Hanna Marie’s plot?”
Ruby looked over at the woman in the raincoat and whispered back, “I have no idea. She’s not from here….Leastways, I don’t know her. Maybe she’s someone Hanna Marie went to deaf school with.”
Whoever the woman was, she stood there for a very long time, just staring down at Hanna Marie’s grave. Finally she said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Then she turned around and left.
After a while, curiosity got the best of Verbena, and she said, “Hanna Marie?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Verbena Wheeler here, and Ruby and I were just remarking what a pretty lady your visitor was.”
&
nbsp; “Yes, she was. Very pretty.”
They waited for more information, but none came.
Several days later, Verbena just couldn’t stand it one more minute, and just came right out and asked Hanna Marie point-blank who the lady was.
“Well, Verbena, I wish I knew. I have absolutely no idea. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
“Ah, I see. Well, she was pretty.”
The whole thing seemed very odd to Verbena. Hanna Marie may not have known her, but that woman had obviously known Hanna Marie. She had stood there for a very long time. And she’d looked absolutely heartbroken. You can’t be heartbroken over someone you don’t know, she thought. It didn’t make any sense. Strangers just didn’t show up at another stranger’s grave. Unless she was at the wrong grave by mistake…and there was no way that could happen. Hanna Marie had a big headstone with her name on it in great big letters. And the woman had been looking right at it.
She wondered if Hanna Marie knew the woman and just wasn’t telling her. Either way, there was something fishy going on. And what had that woman been so sorry about? Verbena was determined to get to the bottom of it. She loved a good mystery. She had been a devoted fan of Murder, She Wrote with Angela Lansbury.
—
THERE HAD BEEN A MURDER in Elmwood Springs, but sadly, the victim didn’t know it. How could she? She was deaf. She had not heard the man come up behind her. She didn’t know she had been pushed. The police didn’t know it had been a murder. There had been no forced entry. The man hired to do the job had been given a key to the house. Nobody saw him come in or go out.
2013
People don’t realize that sometimes other people do listen in on their private conversations. For instance, on the night the judge and his wife were having dinner, discussing the contents of Hanna Marie’s will, their cook, Mrs. Grace, had left the door to the dining room just slightly ajar. She had been very interested in what the judge had to say. She had worked for Mr. and Mrs. Swensen before they’d died.