by Debra Dixon
Mom took up the story. “For now, only one of you gets a crown. The other will have to come later.”
“Not so, my dear friend,” LuLynn said. “Tomorrow night, when you girls take the stage at the dance as the reigning Mossy Creek Homecoming Queens, you’ll both have crowns. Christie, that one’s yours, because it was placed on your head at the halftime ceremony.” LuLynn turned to her niece. “And, this one’s yours.” She removed her own crown, gazed at it with tears in her eyes for a moment and then placed it on Monica’s head. “Because, no queen should have to go without a crown. Not even for a day.”
PART NINE
The Great Time Capsule Caper
Louise & Peggy, Saturday afternoon
Peggy and I managed to horse the filthy time capsule into the back of the SUV, turned the air conditioner on full blast to cover our odor, and drove to the rear of the police station. I called both Ida and Amos’s cell phones from the parking lot. Still no answer. It was now full dark and less than an hour before the dance started.
“Now what?” I asked.
“The heck with what Amos says. We’ll hand it over to Mutt.”
“We will not. Amos was very specific.” I checked my watch. “We are going to take it to the dance. Amos and Ida must already be there doing last minute checks.”
“Then why aren’t they answering?”
“I have no idea. Maybe there’s a cell tower out or something.” I turned on the ignition and backed the car out of the lot. As I did, my headlights revealed Mutt just coming out the back door.
He hollered at me, “Miz Louise? Y’all need something?”
I ignored him and kept driving.
Mossy Creek Gazette
Volume VIII, No. Five • Mossy Creek, Georgia
“Moon” Over Mossy Creek
by Katie Bell
YONDER — It was “full moon time” last Saturday night after a Greyhound Bus took evasive maneuvers to avoid a pickup truck in its path.
According to Officer Mutt Bottoms, the bus driver reported that he blew the bus horn and hit the brakes to avoid hitting what witnesses said was a black Dodge Ram pickup, late model.
The incident happened at 10:57 p.m. Saturday on that nasty curve just as you approach Colchik Mountain, just past Bailey Mill. The bus was on its usual route, destination Atlanta.
The pickup briefly disappeared from the bus occupants’ view as they passed. Two minutes later it was seen again coming back around the curve. Four young men in the back of the pickup dropped their pants and mooned the travelers as they passed the bus.
When asked how she knew the men were young, Mimsy Allen of Mossy Creek replied, “Bless me, Katie Bell! I’ve got three sons and eight grandsons. With all that male booty running around my house most holidays, don’t you think I’d recognize young booty when I see it?”
Mimsy was on her way home from visiting her son Charles, who lives in Woodstock, GA with three of the said grandsons.
Officer Sandy Crane told this reporter that the Mossy Creek Police Department is on top of the case and will quickly bring the bare-bottomed perpetrators to justice.
Parade Route Set
The Mossy Creek Homecoming Parade begins 10 a.m. sharp on Saturday and events run until noon.
The parade route is approximately one mile and will travel at walking speed. The parade will be forward moving and there will be a designated performance area on the North end of Town Square. The parade will end at the newly cleared site for the Mossy Creek High School Stadium.
A parade contest will judge Best Float, Golf Cart, Vehicle and Walking Unit. Each group will be judged throughout the duration of the parade. Winners will receive a plaque and recognition during the Homecoming Dance on Saturday night.
Tag Takes Over
When I went to Catholic high school in Philadelphia, we just had one coach for football and basketball. He took all of us who turned out and had us run through a forest. The ones who ran into the trees were on the football team.
—George Raveling
Tag Garner, Wednesday
Two things have happened to me that I never expected to happen. First of all, I’ve become an assistant football coach and substitute teacher at Mossy Creek High School. And the second—more earth shattering than anything else that’s ever happened to me—is I’m about to become a father...for the first time.
Maggie Hart, the best thing that ever happened to me, is pregnant. And before you ask, no, we’re not married. Yet.
I’m Tag Garner and I met the woman I love more than life itself when her mother stole a tiara from my shop. When I caught Millicent shoplifting, she bit me and slugged me. It was worse than being attacked by a ferocious dog. Millicent Hart, now Lavender, is a little old blue-haired lady. Who’d ever think she’d launch herself into an attack and bite me?
I’ve asked Maggie to marry me. She keeps refusing. Not because she doesn’t love me, but on general principle. I don’t understand it. As far as I know, getting married is every girl’s dream. Not Maggie’s. That woman has a mind of her own. She’s fifty years old and, before you say it, yeah, she’s getting too old to be pregnant. That worries me a lot, but it happened. One of those accident kind of things.
But man, if you could have seen the look on her face the day she found out she was pregnant. I’ve never seen her happier. She runs a shop here in Mossy Creek. Moonheart’s Natural Living is the name of the place. She makes potpourri, soaps, lotions and all kinds of natural products, all popular with Creekites and tourists alike. Right after she got pregnant, she started a line of baby products that took off like crazy. She’s even got a contract with one of those big baby chains to carry some of her baby products, so she’s busier than ever. She set up a little production plant in the outskirts of Mossy Creek to handle the increased sales of those items. Funny thing, she’s been in business for years and it took getting pregnant to really make her successful. After the baby’s born, she’s going to open a couple more shops, one in Bigelow and one up in Clayton.
So now you know about the loves of my life, Magster and the babies. We don’t know what they are yet. We just want them to be healthy. Oh, did I say we’re having twins? That’s another problem to worry about. To say that I’m worried is an understatement. I love the idea of having a baby (or babies) but Mags is my life. I can’t even think about life without her. You think it was bad when I got the news that I couldn’t ever play football again? I thought my life was over. But if I were to lose Mags...well, let’s just say you might as well bury me with her.
Oops. Gotta run. The bell just rang for class. Don’t tell anybody how much I enjoy teaching art at the brand new Mossy Creek High School. If you’d told me I’d end up teaching school, I’d have laughed you out of town. But I have to admit, I love it.
Willard Overbrook puzzled the hell out of me. Why was he lying in wait for Fred in the high school parking lot after practice? He’d obviously waited for the coach to come out of the locker room, and that worried me.
You couldn’t find a bigger Georgia fan than Willard in these mountains. So you’d think he’d have been excited when I suggested Fred Mabry for head football coach for the Rams...the Mossy Creek Rams, that is. I was stunned when Willard started a campaign against him. And he never could look me in the eye and give me a straight answer for it. The principal had interviewed a former offensive coach from ’Bama, but he wasn’t nearly as qualified as Fred.
It took a hell of a lot of persuading to get Fred hired, not to mention Fred’s own doubts about it. He’d retired from Georgia when Vince Dooley did and was enjoying his freedom. But when I mentioned the ruckus that got raised over his name being mentioned as the first Mossy Creek High coach in twenty years, Fred changed his mind and fought like a real Georgia Dawg for the job. Go figure.
Anyway, everybody seemed to settle down when we started winn
ing games. Everybody except Willard. His open hostility just didn’t make sense. And to make matters worse, he refused to discuss it with anybody. Not even me.
So what was he doing, waiting on Fred in the parking lot?
I watched them surreptitiously, pretending fascination in the bag of vegetables Ida had dropped into the passenger seat of my Spyder. They didn’t seem to be antagonistic. In fact, Willard seemed exactly the opposite. It was almost like he was apologizing.
I knew I couldn’t pretend to be fascinated by vegetables forever. I needed to run home and tell Mags that Fred was coming for dinner. I wanted to brief her on his revelation about what he did to that kid at Georgia so many years ago. Man, of all the things Fred could have told me, that was the most astonishing. He was being too hard on himself. I’m not excusing what he did. It was wrong, but he didn’t kill the kid. If anybody was responsible, it was the boys who beat the kid after Fred knocked him down.
Just then Fred called, “We’re fine. Go on home to Maggie.”
“You sure?” I studied Willard, trying to gauge his level of potential violence.
Fred waved me away. “I’ll be along directly.”
Willard didn’t look particularly combative, so I put the bag back into the seat, walked around the car and climbed in.
Whenever I turned the key in the ignition and the high performance Spyder engine roared to life, it was like I was a teenager all over again. When I sold my ’Vette, Mags thought I was through with fast sports cars, but I’m not the mini-van or even the SUV type. I smiled as I snarled out of the parking lot like an uncaged beast. My hair wasn’t as long as it once was, but I still enjoyed the wind blowing through it.
As I got closer to the town square, a car flashed its lights at me. It was Willie Bigelow, our quarterback. I threw up my hand in greeting and gratitude and slowed down. His flash no doubt meant that Mutt Bottoms was sitting in his squad car just over the hill—waiting.
I slowed to a funereal pace and, as I drove by Mutt, I waved and hollered. I could see by the expression on his face that he wasn’t happy. Mutt’s not stupid. He’d probably figured out what happened. Nothing he could do about it though.
I drove around the square and headed toward home. I’d moved in with Mags right after her mama moved into the Magnolia Manor Nursing Home. Millicent tried to tell us she was doing it so we’d have more privacy. Fact is, she was foolin’ around with Tyrone Lavender, Anna Rose’s father. Now they’re married and still living at the Magnolia Home. They love it. They play bridge and bingo and make all kinds of crap...er, craft projects.
There were no cars parked in front of the Antebellum home of Moonheart’s Natural Gifts, so I slid into the driveway, shut off the ignition and bounded out of the car. I couldn’t wait to see my gal.
Bells jingled as I opened the front door. It was almost closing time, but I didn’t lock the door behind me. Mags would have a fit if I locked it a minute early. “Hey, Magster! Babe! I’m home.”
“In the workroom, sugar,” came her sweet voice from down the stairs.
Before I could reply, Giselle came gamboling up the stairs and nearly knocked me down. I squatted down and hugged her. She may weigh over a hundred pounds, but she thinks she’s a lap dog. She’s a Briard, most beautiful dog in the world. “Calm down, girl.”
I stood up and headed down the stairs. “Mags? I thought you weren’t going to work down there until after Ren and Stimpy were born.”
“Don’t call them that!” She reached the top of the stairs and stretched up to kiss me. “First it was Fred and Barney, then it was Abbott and Costello. What next? What if they’re girls? Or a boy and girl.”
I dropped into a wicker chair with soft floral padding and pulled Maggie into my lap. I rubbed my hand across her stomach and grinned. “I don’t care what you call them as long as they’re healthy. And as for what they are, Mags, do you think we should have found out?”
She sighed and laid her head on my shoulder. “I don’t know, sugar. Sometimes I can’t stand not knowing. Sometimes, I’m glad I don’t.”
“You look tired. Are you sure you’re not doing too much?”
“You’re right. I am tired. I need to spend the evening relaxing. We’re only a week away from delivery.”
The door chime sounded and she automatically glanced at the clock. “A late customer, I guess.”
Giselle bounded to the door and spun in place, barking joyfully.
“No, I’ll bet it’s Fred.” I helped Maggie to her feet and then rose. “I invited him for dinner.”
She walked into the shop in time to see Fred come through the glass door. “Oh, hey, Fred! I’m glad to see you.”
He walked toward her smiling. “And I’m glad to see you. You look beautiful as ever.”
“Beautiful? I feel like I swallowed something the size of a number ten washtub, and it’s stuck in my belly.” Maggie hugged him and laughed as she rubbed her protruding stomach. “So how’s the team? We gonna win Friday night?”
“We’d better. Last week was a disaster, but I’m kinda glad it happened like it did. The boys got a taste of losing and they didn’t like it one bit.” Fred nodded at me. “This guy’s really inspired them.”
I shook my head. “Inspiration can only go so far. It’s the quality of the coach that makes the difference. And you’re the best.”
“Hope you like country suppers, Fred,” Maggie said. “’Cause that’s what we’re having—creamed corn, butter beans, green beans, cornbread, sliced tomatoes from the garden and Vidalia onions.”
“You don’t know how good that sounds, Maggie. My favorite foods.”
“I’ve got plenty.” She started toward the kitchen. “Give me a few minutes to set the table and get organized. Everything’s ready.”
I watched my wife walk out of the room. Her assessment of her size was exaggerated, even with the twins. That’s one of the things that had me so concerned. She should’ve put on more weight.
As we sat down to supper, Fred glanced at me and then at Maggie. “Maggie, I want to tell you what I told Tag this afternoon. I need to come clean about this.”
Before Mags took the apple pie out of the oven, she’d heard the story. I could see that I’d been right about her reaction. After echoing what I’d told him, she got up and hugged Fred. Then she went into the kitchen to get the pie and ice cream.
“Okay, Fred,” she said as she returned. “Fresh baked apple pie and ice cream. Your choice. Vanilla or chocolate.”
I chimed in, “You go for the vanilla, Fred. I’m having the chocolate.”
We all laughed. Over that delicious pie, Fred related the tale of what Willard had said. I was stunned. “Fred, nobody would ever have thought that was the reason for Willard’s opposition. He kept talking about fresh, new faces and young coaches for a young school. He hinted that you might be over-the-hill. That’s a laugh.”
Fred did laugh, but then shook his head. “Well, I was beginning to think of myself that way. But these boys, Tag...and Maggie, these boys gave me a new lease on life.”
When we left the table, Fred excused himself. “I need to get on home. I’ve got to stop by the store and pick up something for the heartburn.”
I watched him pull out of the driveway, then turned back to Maggie. “Sorry about that. I should have called when I left school, but I was kinda worried about Fred. I left him talking to Willard and you know Willard’s got a temper.”
“Why did you leave him then?”
I took her hand and we walked toward the kitchen. It was immaculate. Mags is one of those cooks who can prepare a fabulous meal and you’d never know it if you looked in the kitchen. She surveyed the counters and nodded. “Let’s go upstairs. I’m pretty tired.”
I held her back. “Are you all right? Do I need to call the doctor?”
“No,”
she said, laughing. She put her arms around me, kissing me lightly. “I love you, Tag Garner.”
That’s it. That’s all she had to say. At that point, I would have done anything for her. “And I love you, Maggie.”
Giselle came bounding up and wriggled between us. Maggie laughed. “This girl’s jealous!”
“I don’t think she’s jealous. I believe she sees this as an opportunity to get both of us loving on her at the same time.” I knelt down and hugged the big furry beast. “Yeah, that’s right, isn’t it, girl?”
“Now I’m jealous!”
“I can’t win. I love you both.”
“And we love you.” She was absently scratching a spot behind Giselle’s ear. “I hope she’s not jealous of the babies.”
“Are you kidding? She’s a working dog, you know. Briards are excellent babysitters.”
“Yes, but can she change diapers?” Maggie said and raised her eyebrows thoughtfully.
“I suspect we’ll all be changing a lot of diapers in the very near future,” I replied.
I didn’t have to teach the next morning, so I went to my shop. Maggie was too busy to spend much time with me since she had so few productive days left before the babies were due. And I have to admit, I was too antsy to sit at home and watch her work, no matter how much I enjoyed it. The Homecoming game was too close. And even more important, the Bigelow game was in two weeks. That would determine whether Fred and I were heroes or pig slop.
I nodded at my assistant as I entered and hurried into my studio to work. I’d just slid into my chair when the front door chime caught my attention. My almost mother-in-law, Millicent Lavender was striding purposefully toward me. I rose and started toward my door, but she beat me to it.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her tone imperious. No—threatening. “Do you know what Maggie’s doing? You’re supposed to be taking care of her. What’s the matter with you?”