Afterward, Wanda Nell remembered little of the service. The preacher, a young man who obviously had never known Bobby Ray, spoke at some length, but Wanda Nell could never manage to focus on what he was saying long enough to take in the sense of it. Instead, she let her mind wander over the past. She thought of the good times she and Bobby Ray had spent together, resolutely pushing away any of the bad memories. No point in dwelling on those now.
Eventually the casket was loaded into the hearse, and they all filed outside to get into the cars for the short drive to the cemetery.
The sun beat down on them, and Wanda Nell was glad of the shade provided by the graveside tent as they took their seats. The preacher talked some more, and Wanda Nell looked past him, staring off into the trees on the other side of the cemetery. She didn’t want to see the mound of earth nearby, discreetly covered by a large green tarp. She didn’t want to believe any of this was happening.
Wanda Nell couldn’t cry any more. It was all like some strange dream, and surely she’d wake up any minute now.
Juliet, sitting to one side of her, held on to her hand, and Miranda on the other side did the same. T.J. stood behind his grandmother, his hands bracingly on her shoulders. Mrs. Culpepper cried quietly the whole time the preacher spoke.
At last it was over, and people began to move away. Wanda Nell, an arm around each of her daughters, stood for a moment at the graveside. Goodbye, Bobby Ray.
With the girls beside her, she turned and walked slowly toward the entrance to the cemetery. T.J. and Mrs. Culpepper weren’t far behind them.
“Wanda Nell.”
She turned at the sound of Elmer Lee’s voice. The grief in his face almost brought the tears back. Elmer Lee, in his own way, had loved Bobby Ray, too.
Mayrene motioned for the girls to come with her, and Wanda Nell stood aside. Mrs. Culpepper and T.J. walked past as she waited for Elmer Lee to catch up with her.
He held out his hand, and Wanda Nell took it. He led her a few feet away, into the shade of an old oak. She lifted her veil and tucked it on top of the hat.
“What is it, Elmer Lee?” All the animosity she had felt for him had drained away. She could almost forgive him for all that he had put her and her family through.
“I just wanted to say how sorry I am about everything,” Elmer Lee said haltingly. His eyes avoided hers.
“It don’t really matter now,” Wanda Nell said. “We should just let things rest.”
“Maybe.” Elmer Lee sighed. “But I feel like I owe you more than that, Wanda Nell. At first I was so mad over what happened to Bobby Ray, all I could think about was getting back at you.”
“I know,” Wanda Nell said. “You were pretty rough on me.”
“I guess I was really mad at Bobby Ray for pulling such a damn-fool stunt,” Elmer Lee said, “and I was taking it out on you.” He shook his head. “He never learned. I tried my best, but he never would listen to me.”
“No, he wouldn’t.” Wanda Nell leaned against the tree. She was so tired she could go to sleep right here. “But you loved him like a brother. And I still loved him, too. Even after everything, I still loved him.”
“I know that,” Elmer Lee said. He sounded almost angry, and Wanda Nell regarded him with surprise. “I could never figure it out, Wanda Nell. Why him? He treated you like dirt, almost from day one, and you let him get away with it.”
“I guess so,” she said, slightly puzzled. “I don’t know, Elmer Lee, I guess love just makes you blind. Isn’t that what they say? And I was blind for a long time, even though Bobby Ray did his damnedest to make me open my eyes. It took me a while, but finally I did.”
Elmer Lee finally looked at her. “I wish you’d opened ’em a lot sooner, Wanda Nell. You never could see anything but him.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
Wanda Nell stared at him in surprise.
He turned and walked away.
Wanda Nell watched him go. She stood there under the tree for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief.
Pulling her veil back down over her eyes, she stepped into the sunlight and walked slowly to the car where her family waited for her.
Wanda Nell's Favorite Recipes
Wanda Nell’s Original Thousand Island Salad Dressing
1 medium onion (red or white)—chopped
½ cup sweet pickle relish
2 large hard-boiled eggs—chopped
Mix all together, add:
½ cup ketchup
2 cups mayonnaise (light mayonnaise may be substituted for regular)
Blend all together, refrigerate for 24 hours before using. Makes roughly one quart of dressing.
Mayrene’s Wedges
1 cup melted butter (4 ounces)
1½ cups oatmeal (4 ounces)
6 ounces milk chocolate chips
6 ounces pecans, coarsely chopped
1 can condensed (not evaporated) milk (14 ounces)
Mix everything together and pour into a 9-inch buttered pie pan. Bake at 350° for 45-60 minutes. Cool; cut into wedges. Serve with a dollop of Cool Whip or unsweetened whipped cream— according to taste.
Discover More by this Author
Cat in the Stacks Series, writing as Miranda James
MURDER PAST DUE
CLASSIFIED AS MURDER
FILE M FOR MURDER
OUT OF CIRCULATION
THE SILENCE OF THE LIBRARY
ARSENIC AND OLD BOOKS
NO CATS ALLOWED
TWELVE ANGRY LIBRARIANS
CLAWS FOR CONCERN
Southern Ladies Series, writing as Miranda James
BLESS HER DEAD LITTLE HEART
DEAD WITH THE WIND
DIGGING UP THE DIRT
FIXING TO DIE
Simon Kirby-Jones Mysteries, writing as Dean James
POSTED TO DEATH
FAKED TO DEATH
DECORATED TO DEATH
BAKED TO DEATH
Trailer Park Mysteries, writing as Jimmie Ruth Evans
FLAMINGO FATALE
MURDER OVER EASY
BEST SERVED COLD
BRING YOUR OWN POISON
LEFTOVER DEAD
Bridge Club Mysteries, writing as Honor Hartman
ON THE SLAM
THE UNKINDEST CUT
Deep South Mysteries, writing as Dean James
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE
CLOSER THAN THE BONES
DEATH BY DISSERTATION
About the Author
Miranda James is the pseudonym of Dean James, a seventh-generation Mississippian recently returned home after over thirty years in Texas. A mystery fan since the age of ten, he wrote his first novel at the ripe old age of twelve. The only copy of The Mystery of the Willow Key vanished years ago, but since it was highly derivative of the Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden mystery series, that’s probably a good thing.
Currently a librarian, Dean has published articles on topics in library science, the history of science/medicine, and mystery fiction. His first book, with fellow librarian Jean Swanson, was By a Woman’s Hand and won an Agatha Award. Dean and Jean collaborated on Killer Books and The Dick Francis Companion. In all he has co-authored or co-edited six works of mystery reference and one short story anthology.
He has published more than eighteen novels, writing under his own name, Jimmie Ruth Evans, and as Honor Hartman. He’s best known as Miranda James, for his New York Times bestselling Cat in the Stacks series, which features a librarian, Charlie Harris and his charming, partner-in-crime solving cat, Diesel. The books include Murder Past Due, Classified as Murder, File M for Murder, Out of Circulation, The Silence of the Library, Arsenic and Old Books, No Cats Allowed, Twelve Angry Librarians and the upcoming Claws for Concern.
Dean lives with two young cats, thousands of books, and thinks frequently about killing people – but only in the pages of fiction.
See www.catinthestacks.com to discover even more!
s, Flamingo Fatale (A Trailer Park Mystery Book 1)
Flamingo Fatale (A Trailer Park Mystery Book 1) Page 27