Contemporary Women's Fiction: Agnes Hopper Shakes Up Sweetbriar (Humorous Women's Fiction)

by Carol Heilman

  “It’s 7:07,” he announced with a click of the watch lid. That didn’t help the situation one iota. He edged closer, but I wished he hadn’t, for he must have taken a bath in Old Spice. Plus, he clutched a bouquet of red roses from The Manor’s garden. The combined sweet smells only made my nausea worse.

  I tried holding my breath, but sometimes distraction is the best medicine. “Nice handiwork.” I nodded to the flowers.

  Smiley had wrapped their stems in a gob of wet newspapers, which he had stuck into a plastic bag of ice—which, I might add, was already dripping—all held together with at least a dozen rubber bands.

  “Fresh picked—early. Heavy dew this morning at six o’clock. Had to find dry socks.”

  We both looked down to his feet as I voiced my opinion. “Reckon so, if you were wearing those sandals you’ve got on. I’m surprised you didn’t wear your dress shoes today with those nice, dark, over-the-calf dress socks.”

  “Thought about it, but figured by the time we get back home, my feet will be swollen twice their size. Always happens. The heat, don’tcha know. Sandals give ’em room to breathe.”

  I decided to keep my thoughts to myself, but sandals with dress socks? He had also chosen seersucker shorts that looked two sizes too big, a white short-sleeve dress shirt, red suspenders, and a straw hat.

  “You look spiffy,” I said. “And your aftershave is right powerful.”

  “Thanks, Sis.” He checked his watch again. “Nearly 7:09.”

  He reminded me of a jumpy june bug.

  Between Smiley’s nervousness and my queasiness, I gave a sigh of relief when the doors folded open. We climbed the steps and gave our fares to a red-faced driver with a nose shaped like a turnip—a big man nearly bursting out of his uniform. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be nipping from a flask tucked somewhere out of sight.

  Lollipop and his brother, a tall, baldheaded man with a kind face, arrived just in time to follow us up the steps. Smiley and I found a seat near the front while the other two men, who looked nothing alike, headed for the back of the bus. Lollipop tugged on his brother’s shirttail. “That’s my girlfriend,” he said, pointing toward me.

  “Is that so?” his brother said.

  I turned to shake my head no, but the two men kept moving. Neither looked back. As Lollipop lumbered along, all arms and legs in that quirky gait of his, I expected him to stumble or step on his brother’s heels, but they reached their seats just fine. Lollipop fell into his.

  Smiley turned toward me, eyebrows raised like white birds in flight. “Sis, I had no idea.”

  “You don’t know everything,” I said, giving him a light slap on his shoulder.

  “Apparently not.” He looked set on taking a possibly humorous situation dead serious as he passed the flowers to me. “Since you’re by the window, could you—”

  “I’ll find a spot.” I took the dripping flowers down to the floor and propped them against my purse as the bus pulled onto the two-lane road. We were finally on our way.

  I felt a great sense of relief that we were making this trip to see Alice. While I tried to use my handkerchief to rub out a big water spot on my lime green pedal-pushers, Smiley flapped his newspaper open to the sports section. I settled back against my seat and gazed out the window until I spotted a string of little signs nearly lost in tall weeds. Though the signs were faded and rotting away, I could still make out the wording.

  Substitutes … Will let you down … Quicker than … A Strapless gown.

  The last sign was either lying in the ditch or gone altogether, but I knew it had once clearly stated, Burma Shave.

  Words of wisdom had disappeared alongside most American roadways, and if it hadn’t been for old Mr. Thompson, there wouldn’t be any around Sweetbriar either. He had taken it upon himself to resurrect the messages, even making up some of his own. Only Mr. Thompson died nearly ten years ago, and no one had stepped up to take his place.

  “A real shame, Charlie,” I said to the countryside whizzing by. That’s when it hit me. I sat up straight as a tobacco stick.

  Substitutes will let you down.

  No matter where I moved to—a small house, an apartment, or even another retirement home—nothing could ever in a month of Sundays take the place of, or mean the same as, our little tobacco farm and all those years Charlie and I spent there together. Nothing could, no matter where I ended up living.

  Then I looked over at Smiley and saw him in a new light, almost like seeing him for the first time. This man could never take Charlie’s place. No man could. So why did I get so confounded irritated when he didn’t measure up? Why couldn’t I just accept his friendship and let it go at that? Smiley certainly had good points, and some not so good, but all his good and bad qualities were his very own. Didn’t we all have a mix? Even Charlie?

  Smiley must have felt my stare. He lowered his newspaper. “Sis, you all right? You look mighty pale. Here, have a piece of Juicy Fruit.”

  “Thank you, but I’ve got some peppermints in my purse.”

  He popped his gum while I unwrapped a peppermint. I was grateful for the soothing taste.

  “Tell me about your Lucinda.”

  He got a faraway look on his face. “Lucinda was one of a kind … always calm and pleasant. Never lost her temper or got angry, even after she took sick. Never complained or whined like I would have.” Smiley reached up and swiped at his eye. “Never had a bad word to say to anyone. Not even to me, although I know there were times she wanted to—times when I spouted off instead of keeping my mouth shut. Yes sir, don’t know what I would have done without her all those years.”

  “Lucinda sounds about as perfect as my Charlie. How did the two of us get so lucky?”

  “Reckon the good Lord was looking out for us. Knew we needed an extra measure of help, don’tcha know.”

  I’d never thought about my life with Charlie in exactly that way before, but it all made sense now as I looked back on things. He was steady as a rock, and I was as changeable as the wind. He must’ve loved me an awful lot to put up with all I dished out.

  We fell into an easy silence but not for long. In less than five minutes, Smiley fidgeted in his seat, folded his paper with a great amount of straightening and rattling, and plopped it onto his lap. I thought maybe he was going to apologize for the times he had become agitated with me in the last few days, but it seemed he just wanted to say something and anything would do.

  He propped his elbow on the armrest and leaned close. “I signed out. Did you?”

  “Certainly. Rules are rules. And for good measure I added Lollipop’s brother’s name beside ours.”

  “You did?”

  “He’s accompanying us on the bus, isn’t he?”

  Smiley grinned and shook his head. “How much time do you think we’ll have to visit?”

  “A good two hours. Plenty of time. Take a deep breath and try to relax. You’re wound tighter than a top.”

  “I could use a shot of Alice’s Jack Daniel’s.”

  “Or at least some Nyquil,” I teased.

  The man actually smiled for the first time that day. I thought maybe he’d like to talk about Alice, but he got quiet, so I decided to wait until he was ready. Maybe later, after she passed away—or flew to heaven, because that’s how I imagined her going. I hoped I would be around to listen.

  There was so much to think about, so much to untangle, I considered asking Smiley for his input, especially that last house I had inquired about. Actually, I planned to mail the owner one month’s rent just so he would hold it. That would give me ten days to make up my mind for sure. The fenced yard was small, but it would work for Miss Margaret. What worried me was the house had only two bedrooms. If Pearl and I could manage there, where did that leave Smiley?

  Before I could get my jumbled thoughts to line up and behave so I could deal with them one at a time, his head dropped onto my shoulder, and the newspaper slipped to his feet. He was sound asleep.

  Now it was my turn to
smile. This man was a good friend, for certain, but I wasn’t sure if I could feel anything more or even wanted to. Didn’t know if I wanted to become familiar, as my mama would say. Smiley was so entirely different than …

  My eyes closed, and my thoughts drifted to Charlie, to last night when he had come to me in my dreams. I could see him clear as anything, standing at the edge of a field of golden burley ready for stripping. In the setting sun, the swaying tobacco leaves shimmered around him, and the gentle breeze made them sound like rustling taffeta skirts. He hollered up to the house, where I stood on the front porch. “Gonna be a good one this year, Pumpkin. Mark my word.”

  Charlie was always the optimist. Every year was bound to be the best, even when we both knew differently. I waved to him and then slowly, but surely, he was no longer standing there. He seemed real, but my dream—and Charlie—had dissolved like cotton candy at the state fair.

  I awoke before daylight, hours before we needed to catch the bus, and lay very still trying to hold the image of him in my mind. To hear his voice calling me—a real comfort for which I remembered to give thanks. Whether Charlie would make himself known to me again was something I’d have to wait to find out.

  “First stop in Berea. Mission Hospital. Next stop downtown,” the bus driver announced.

  Smiley jerked awake, and we braced ourselves as the driver slammed on the brakes and swung the large bus over to the curb. He pulled a handle and folded the doors open.

  As we gathered our belongings, I remembered to pick up Alice’s flowers. We made our way off the bus, waving to Lollipop and his brother as they crossed the street to Roses’.

  “See you at 10:46,” I called. “On the dot.”

  I needed a restroom, which we found off the hospital’s front lobby. Before we parted, I said, “You go ahead. Lane Wing, room 125. I’ll come directly.”

  “Are you positive? I can wait for you, Sis.”

  “Sometimes you’re a real gentleman.” He never noticed the sometimes, but now was not the time to air my feelings on that subject. “Also need to find some ginger ale. Would you like something?”

  He shook his head. “No thanks. I’ll see you there.” Off he went down the hall, carrying the dripping roses and walking at a fast clip, elbows pumping. Reminded me of that first day at the retirement home when we were headed to lunch. That day seemed like forever ago.

  You would think a hospital coffee shop would have ginger ale on their menu, but I settled on a fountain Coke. Since all the stools at the counter and all the booths were crammed full, I had to stand near the cash register and grab the first waitress who would pay me any mind. I decided to get Smiley a drink, even though he said he didn’t want anything, because he didn’t need to get dehydrated and keel over. We would both be in a pickle, and not a sweet one.

  He had once said cherry Coke was his favorite, so that’s what I got. I walked slowly on my way to room 125, sure we still had plenty of time and, besides, my delay was giving Smiley time to visit with Alice—alone.

  When I entered her room, I knew Alice would not be with us much longer. Very soon, she would cross over to the other side. Smiley stood by her bed, head bowed, gripping his straw hat with both hands. The roses, freed from their wrappings, fanned across the white coverlet and Alice’s small form.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  At first a tightness squeezed my chest so hard I couldn’t breathe or speak. But the longer I stood there, the more I realized a total calm had filled up every inch of space in that room. Not only stillness, but a great peace—peace so real I could almost reach out and touch it. I let go of my concern for Alice, assured that Jesus was ready to take her hand.

  I walked over to stand beside Smiley and slipped my hand into his limp, cold one. He seemed to be in a complete daze, but he said, “I think she was waiting for us. Right before you walked in, I told her it was okay to go, that she didn’t need to worry about things here. For some reason, she needed that assurance, that permission.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I squeezed his hand.

  “It’s okay, Sis. Soon as I got here, I told her everything you did with the money and the baby clothes. Everything, except—” He turned and whispered, “I didn’t tell her it was actually your money and not hers. Didn’t want anything to worry her. The nurse came in a few minutes ago and said Alice had slipped into a coma, but she heard me. I know she did.”

  “You didn’t tell her our suspicions about—”

  “You think I would do that?” He shook his head. “I promised her we would look after Juanita and Frankie. Told her we’d make sure they were okay. I think she understood.”

  “You said all that?”

  “Yep. Isn’t that what you would’ve done?”

  “Well, come to think of it—”

  “There’s one other thing. I told Alice you would read some Scripture to her, and the two of us would sing her a song. I don’t know if she can still hear us, but I’d like to think so.”

  “Me? Sing? I love music, but I sound like a donkey with a bellyache.”

  “Come on, Sis. You can do this for Alice.”

  I took the Gideon Bible out of the bedside table. “What should I read?”

  “Well, let’s see. One passage Alice especially likes is in Zephaniah.”

  I thumbed through the Bible, searching. “I know that’s Old Testament, but where?”

  “Near the end. She loved chapter three, verse seventeen. I could nearly quote it, I’ve heard it so many times, but you go ahead and read it. She liked to hear you read.”

  I found the verse that meant so much to Alice, and even though I didn’t recall ever seeing it before, the words were a great comfort.

  The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; He will save, He will rejoice over thee with joy; He will rest in His love, He will joy over thee with singing.

  Yes, our Lord is mighty indeed. I thanked him for watching over Alice.

  A few moments of silence passed before Smiley started to sing. I joined him and gave it my best attempt. We sang “I Come to the Garden Alone,” one of Alice’s favorites.

  Afterward, we hugged each other and cried, but we didn’t have great weeping filled with sorrow. We both knew our friend would soon be having a celebration in her Father’s mansion.

  Smiley asked for a few moments alone, and while I waited for him in the hallway, a nurse entered the room. When she came out, she shook her head and said what I already knew.

  “She has slipped away, very peacefully.”

  Smiley joined me right after that, looking pale as a bedsheet. When he pulled his handkerchief out to blow his nose, he was trembling all over. I waited for a moment, but then I put my arms around him and patted his back. “I know you’ll miss Alice something fierce. She was one fine lady.”

  He nodded, blew his nose again, and said, “She told me not to be sad, but I can’t help it.”

  “She understands and the good Lord does too. You’ve got to give yourself some time.”

  He nodded again and let out a quivery sigh. “Thanks, Sis. I could never have done this without you.”

  We made it to the elevator and I pushed the button. “It was God’s plan that got us here before she passed. Couldn’t have happened without him.”

  Smiley’s watery Coke had been tossed in a trashcan, so I said, “Let’s stop by the hospital’s coffee shop and rest a bit before we catch our bus. Besides, with what we’ve got facing us, both of us need some nourishment.”

  We found an empty booth right away and ordered breakfast since neither of us had been able to eat earlier. The coffee was strong and hot—just what I needed. Smiley liked his cool, with lots of cream and sugar. He poured little bits in his saucer to slurp. He seemed relieved of a great burden now that his Alice was no longer suffering.

  When our food arrived, Smiley dug in, but I buttered biscuits and grits, peppered eggs, and arranged my bacon. As I fixed everything to my liking, I said, “I knew Alice only a short while, but I’ll always
remember her saying, ‘When I die, don’t you come around here with a sad face. Remember the good times.’ Tell me about some of those good times. That’s what I like to do when I think of my Charlie.”

  Smiley glanced up, looking lost in his thoughts. He laid down his fork and pushed his nearly empty plate aside. His dark eyes had turned soft and watery with remembering.

  “Alice was the kindest person I’ve ever known, next to my Lucinda. Never had a bad thing to say about anybody, even if they deserved it—even that man who didn’t marry her like he should’ve. Or that couple who gave her money, took her baby, and disappeared, never to be heard from again. Even them. Alice never turned bitter, never shook her fist at God and demanded answers like I would have. No sir, she forgave them all. Even Miss Johnson.”

  “Miss Johnson?”

  “When Alice first came to Sweetbriar Manor, she brought her liquor, of course, and all kinds of pills, prescriptions included. Well, you-know-who discovered the hard stuff first. Made Alice pour it out. All of it. Said she had to keep the empties as a reminder. After that, Alice hid her pills everywhere you could imagine. Sometimes she took too many. Then she started drinking Nyquil at night, along with some pills.”

  While Smiley slurped the remainder of his coffee, I waited, knowing he had more to say.

  “That’s not what killed her, though. She was dying of cancer and she knew it. But she had to sneak around to find some comfort, and I blame Miss Johnson for not allowing her any peace. And taking Alice’s money? That’s mighty low. That woman is the most mean-spirited—”

  “I know,” I said, reaching out to cover his hand with both of mine. “We’re going to give her all she deserves.” I wanted to reassure this dear man, though I didn’t yet know for sure how it would happen.

  “Tell me about—”

  “The good times?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, Sis, it’s like this.” As Smiley doctored his fresh cup of coffee, he continued. “Alice and me? We were never an item, like you might think. I always had hopes, but that never happened. I looked after her, best I could, and we became comfortable with each other don’tcha know. Both of us had trouble sleeping, so lots of nights we would meet in the garden unless Alice had taken something. I would always be there first, waiting.”