by Amy Metz
“Who delivered them, Bean?” Martha Maye asked, turning over the envelope, blank except for her name.
“I dunno.” Butterbean shrugged.
“Well, ain’t that something.” Louetta reached for the flowers. “A secret admirer. Here.” Her chair squeaked as she stood up. “Let me have them so’s I can put them in water.” She started for the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Buttabean, you and Maddy Mack clear the dishes. I’ll bring out dessert.”
“Can me and Maddy Mack go outside and play? We don’t want dessert.”
“Me and Maddy Mack?” Martha Maye said disapprovingly. “Can?”
Butterbean rolled her eyes and said, “Maddy Mack and I. May Maddy Mack and I go outside to play before it gets too dark?”
“You don’t want dessert?” Lou shrieked from the doorway, her ample bosom and the bouquet of flowers preceding her into the room. “Are you sure you didn’t pick her out of a punkin patch, Mart? There ain’t never been nobody in our family who didn’t want dessert.”
“Can we eat it later, Granny?” Butterbean hopped up and down in front of her grandmother, her hands in a prayer position.
“Oh, gwon outta here.” Lou tried to suppress her smile and affectionately swatted at her granddaughter’s bottom. “It’ll still be here when you get back, but clear the table first, now.”
“So who do you think the flowers are from, Mart?” Lou said a few minutes later, as she served pieces of caramel apple pie.
“I have no earthly idea.” Martha Maye stared at the flowers as if in a trance.
“Martha Maye, be happy.” Honey put her hand on Martha Maye’s arm. “Flowers are a good thing. I told you you’d be attracting men left and right.”
“Who’s attracting men left and right?” Charlotte asked, coming into the room with her boyfriend, Pickle. They were a mismatched pair if ever there was one. Charlotte was a short fifteen-year-old beauty with long honey-blond hair and big blue eyes. Pickle, only a year older, looked like a tall stick figure with oversized arms and legs. His hair was so blond it was almost white, with a cowlick at the top of his head that made a tuft of hair stick up. He had big brown eyes and freckles across his nose. Charlotte looked like the cheerleader type, and Pickle looked like Ichabod Crane.
“Oh, there’s the little darlins now. Sit down and have some pie,” Lou said.
“Nothin’ says lovin’ like somethin’ from the oven,” Ima Jean piped up. The expression on her face was almost always serious.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Honey said.
“Have y’all met Honey? She’s Mart’s neighbor and fellow teacher,” Lou said. “Honey, this is Charlotte Price and Peekal Culpepper. Charlotte lives with us, and Peekal purt near does too, on account he’s here so much to see Charlotte.” She winked at him.
Pickle blushed as he took the piece of pie Lou offered.
“You sure did wear the right shirt to this house, Pickle.” Honey was looking at his T-shirt. It said, EVERYONE HAS TO BELIEVE IN SOMETHING. I BELIEVE I’LL HAVE ANOTHER PIECE OF PIE. “Wull, I had help,” Pickle said, grinning. “Charlotte told me Mizz Louetta was baking pie.”
“Aw, you’re cuter’n a box full a puppies,” Honey crooned, but Pickle was too busy gulping pie to notice her.
“He’s my stock boy up at the bookstore, too. I’ll bet I see him more ‘n you do, Charlotte.” Lou pinched Pickle’s cheek. “But don’t worry, he’s too young for me. I won’t steal him from ya.”
“‘Cause your heart belongs to Jack,” Ima Jean said.
“Oh, hush up that crazy talk,” Louetta protested. “The man’s fifty-two years old. I’d have to be T minus dumb and counting to be interested in someone that young, and besides, he belongs to Tess. They’re a match made in heaven if I ever saw one. I swan, the two of them are so cute together. If only all of us could be that happy.”
“Mr. Jack and Ms. Tess are out front with Butterbean.” Charlotte took a dainty bite of pie.
“He’s outside? I sure would like to meet him,” Honey said, wide-eyed.
“He’s taken, Honey,” Martha Maye said quickly.
“Oh really? Maybe he’s your secret admirer? Is that what you mean? You got something going with Mr. Jack?” Honey teased.
“Oh no, Honey, Jack couldn’t be the secret admirer. Hello! Aren’t you listening? We done told you fifty eleven times he’s taken by Tess. Matta fact, he’s mighty taken with Tess.” Lou giggled.
“Tess was also kidnapped when I was,” Martha Maye whispered to Honey. “And Jack was one of our rescuers.” Louder, for everyone to hear, she said, “Jack’s a best-selling author. He’s lived here for about five years now. And Tess is from up north. Jack translates our Southern speak for Tess, although sometimes even he gets stumped.”
“Have Mizz Tess and Mr. Jack set a date for getting hitched?” Pickle asked, his mouth full of pie.
“I don’t think they have yet,” Lou answered.
“What’s this about a secret admirer?” Charlotte asked.
“Somebody sent Martha Maye these here flowers. Card said they were from a secret admirer,” Honey explained.
Charlotte gulped. “Who do you suppose they’re from, Martha Maye?”
“Don’t rightly know. I don’t have the foggiest idea.”
“Don’t worry, Martha Maye, we’ll figure it out. And once we get you into some new clothes to show off that new body, he’ll come a-knocking for sure.” Honey put her arm around Martha Maye’s shoulder.
“Gentlemen prefer Hanes,” Ima Jean said.
If you have to eat dirt, eat clean dirt.
~Southern Proverb
Lenny pulled the black Caddy to the side of the road, six houses down from Lou’s. He could see his daughter playing in the yard with some others. And who might that be, he wondered, eyeing the blond bombshell. Hmm, she looks awful friendly with that dude out there. I could give him a run for his money, though. She takes one look at the Lenmeister, and he’ll literally be toast.
In his mind, he was becoming intimate with the angel in the yard when suddenly Lou’s front door opened and people started spilling out of the house. He recognized his mother-in-law right away and squinted hard at the old prune who held onto Lou. He thought she looked vaguely familiar. Someone he’d met at the wedding maybe. Then he saw a spiky-haired blonde who he most definitely did not know, but whom he thought he should. She looked spunky. His eyes were roaming slowly over her body when another person walked out and stood next to the old prune. Yowza, who do we have here?
It was when she waved to the old ladies and started walking in the other direction down the sidewalk that his eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. He’d know that walk anywhere. That couldn’t be Marty. Could it? He couldn’t believe his eyes. When she turned to wave good-bye to Lou and he saw that smile, he was certain. Then Butterbean reached up to hold her hand as they began walking, and he said out loud, “Well, I’ll be darned.” His wife had changed quite a bit in the three months since he’d last laid eyes on her. Yessiree, a separation had done her some good.
He was too far away to tell much about her new figure, but he could tell she’d dropped some serious weight. Maybe she’d be worth getting back after all.
He was just about to put the car in gear and follow along at a safe distance when a city police car pulled up behind him. He watched in his rearview mirror as a huge man got out. He walked up to Lenny’s door and said, “Sir, we got a report of loitering. State your business, please.”
Lenny said, “Oh thank goodness, Officer—”
“Chief. I’m Police Chief Johnny Butterfield.”
“Right. The thing is, Chief, I’m lost. I just stopped to look at a map, but I literally feel like a monkey trying to do math. Maybe you could help me. I’m looking for Big Darryl D’s Car Country.” Or at least I was two hours ago.
“Sure. It’s up the road a piece.” The chief raised his arm and pointed his finger. “You go on up to the stop sign and take a left. At the next stop sign, ta
ke a right. Go straight down Main Street, and when you reach the Get ‘N Go, turn right. It’ll be down about a block or so. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you kindly. I ‘preshade that. I didn’t mean any harm, Chief. I’m just enjoying this purty street. I’ll certainly be moving along now.” He’d kicked up his Southern accent a notch or two.
Johnny clasped his hands on the window ledge and leaned down to study the man’s face. “What did you say your business is in Goose Pimple Junction, sir?”
“I’m a new resident, Chief. I’ll be making this fine town my new home.”
“Oh really?” Johnny looked skeptical. He stood up, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared down at Lenny through his aviator sunglasses.
“Yessir. Gonna get me a job over at Big Darryl D’s, and I’m looking for a nice little house to call my own.”
“On this street?”
“This is a right lovely street,” Lenny said, looking around.
Johnny stretched his neck, looking past Lenny into the car, where there was no map in sight. “Thought you were looking at a map.”
“Oh, I was.” Lenny searched for an answer.
Johnny cocked one eyebrow.
“On my phone. I was using that Google Map thingy on my phone,” Lenny hedged. “Then I was sitting here listening to the quiet, imagining living on a nice street like this one. I can literally picture myself out under one of these trees waxing up my car.”
“Well, you’ll need to move on now, sir.”
“Yessir, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I’ll be on my way now.”
“All right then.” Johnny ducked his head to look Lenny in the eye and tapped the door with his hand. “You have a real good night, sir.” He tipped his hat and walked back to his car.
It pained Lenny to have to suck up to the chief that way, but he reckoned it was fortuitous he’d run into him. Step four—or was it step five? It didn’t matter. One of the steps of his plan was to get on the good side of the law. He figured he had the man eating out of the palm of his hand now.
Now for step two, he thought. Go see my wife and child.
“Butterbean! Don’t get so far ahead!” Martha Maye called to her daughter bright and early the next morning. She was walking as fast as she could, but toting her book satchel to school slowed her down. Besides, it was a beautiful fall morning and she wanted to be able to enjoy her walk to school.
“Morning, Mizz Whitaker.” She waved to a woman who was getting her newspaper, then hurried on after her daughter, who waited for her at a stop sign.
“Butterbean, you have to slow down. I can’t walk that fast.”
“But I can’t ride that slow,” Butterbean whined.
“Hey now. Mind your manners. Don’t sass me.”
The crossing guard motioned for them to walk, and they started off again. “Morning, Mizz Hinkle, hireyew today?”
The crossing guard flashed her usual hundred-watt smile. “I’m ugly as sin, but I got a pure heart.”
“Oh, you.” Martha Maye patted her on the arm as she passed, then she whirled around when a shrill whistle sounded right behind her. She jumped in surprise and turned to see the fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Tierney, barreling toward them on his skateboard.
“Mr. Tierney, you slow it right down, now.” Mrs. Hinkle pointed a bent finger sternly at the man. “You’re nothing but a public menace on that thing. We’ve got pedestrians and bike riders all over the place. You can’t come barreling through the intersection like that. You’re liable to kill somebody dead.”
“Is there any other way?” Martha Maye leaned in to mutter. The guard ignored her. Her eyes were on the man on the skateboard.
“Okay, okay, I’m slowing down. Sheesh, Mizz Hinkle, you’re wound tighter than a Gibson guitar. You gotta lighten up, sugar.”
“I’ll sugar you—”
She started toward the teacher, but Martha Maye held her back. “Let him go, hon, he doesn’t mean any harm.”
“But that’s just it. He don’t have to mean harm to plow someone down flat as a pancake. He comes through here every day on that dadblamed skateboard. He’s not eleven years old anymore, you know. Grown man acting the fool—”
“I know, I know,” Martha Maye interrupted, patting her shoulder. “But I think he’s being more careful than you give him credit for. Fact, I think he barrels through here just to get your goat.”
“Grown man, riding a skateboard to work every day. Never seen anything like it in all my born days.”
“You have a real good day, Miss Hinkle. Don’t let him rile you up.” Martha Maye headed across the street and was proud to see Butterbean waiting for her.
They were within eyesight of the school now, so Martha Maye said, “You can go on, sweetie. Lock up your bike, and I’ll see you after school. ‘Kay?”
“‘Kay, Mama. Bye!”
Martha Maye checked in at the office, got her mail out of the little box marked Room 118, and walked toward her classroom, speaking to students and other teachers along the way. She stepped into her first-grade classroom, cut on the lights, and headed for her desk at the far end of the room. From her book bag she removed the spelling tests she’d graded the previous evening, put them on her desk, and headed to the chalkboard to put up the day’s sentences for the children to copy. She took one look at the chalkboard, put her hands on her hips, and laughed.
Someone had drawn a huge heart with I Love You written in the center. She couldn’t tell by the handwriting who had written it, but if it was the student she suspected, she wondered how he’d reached that high to draw such a huge heart.
Feeling bad for having to erase it, she did anyway, so she could post the day’s assignments.
She looked at her watch when she was finished, realized it was time for the kids to come to class, and walked out into the hall to greet them.
“Slow down, Eric. Dannon,” she called down the hall. Two little boys slowed down but walked as fast as they could without running, continuing to race each other to the door of the classroom. She stepped into the doorway to block their path.
“And how are you two doing this morning?” She dropped her arms, palms out, causing the boys to bump her hands and stop in front of her.
“Good,” both boys said in unison, clearly itching to be the first one in the door.
“I’ve never seen anybody in more of a hurry to go to class than you two.” She pushed them gently back into the hallway so she could look down at their faces. She held out one hand. “Do you boys have your homework assignments?”
The boys reached into their backpack and pulled out a sheet of paper. She glanced down; seeing the usual heart next to Eric’s name, she smiled to herself.
“Do either of you know anything about a message on my chalkboard?” She put her hands down on their bellies once again to stop them from brushing by her. Both boys shrugged and looked at each other. Eric mumbled, “Huh?”
She scrutinized their faces and let them go.
Throughout the day, she received two I love you notes and a You’re pretty note from three boys in her class. She studied each child carefully but didn’t come to any conclusions about who might have put the heart on the chalkboard.
After seeing the children out the front door of the school at three o’clock, she returned to her classroom to find Butterbean up on a chair, erasing the blackboard, as was her habit.
“Hey, Bean, how was your day, darlin’?” She kissed her daughter on the cheek as she walked past her to her desk.
“It was good. Ms. Winston gave us—”
Behind her, Martha Maye heard Butterbean gasp and then squeal. She whirled around to see Lenny standing at the classroom door.
“Daddy!” Butterbean jumped off the chair and ran to him.
“Carrie!” Lenny caught his daughter in a big hug.
“Lenny,” Martha Maye said softly but unenthusiastically.
A pig knows enough arithmetic to take the shortest cut through a thicket.
~Southern Proverb
Lenny took his wife and daughter to Slick and Junebug’s Diner for an afternoon snack. After Martha Maye ordered water and Lenny ordered French fries and vanilla milkshakes for himself and his daughter, he got up and walked over to the jukebox. He put two quarters in, and the words to “I Fell in a Pile of You and Got Love All Over Me” came streaming out.
Martha Maye had tried her best to be polite in front of Butterbean, but she knew that’s why Lenny had planned this reunion in front of their daughter, and she was seething on the inside. She told Butterbean to wash her hands, and once their daughter was gone, Martha Maye lit into him.
“I thought I made myself clear on the phone, Lenny. I distinctly remember saying don’t call me, I’ll call you. I don’t know how I could have been any plainer than that.”
“I know, baby, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I was literally going plum nuts not being able to see you and Carrie.”
“No, you always were nuts,” she hissed, looking up and switching to a smile, as Junebug delivered their order to the table.
“Two white cows, one order of frog sticks, and a glass of city juice for the lady. Can I getch’all anything else?” She eyed Lenny suspiciously.
“Thanks, Junebug, that’ll do it.” Martha Maye took a sip from the glass of water.
“How’s your mama and them?” Junebug propped her hands on her hips and looked at Martha Maye.
“Mama and Aunt Ima Jean are doing all right, Junebug. Thanks for asking.”
“You got a new beau?” She motioned with her head at Lenny.
Lenny’s eyes squinted ever so slightly, but he managed a big smile and said, “Naw, she’s got an old husband.”
“Do tell. I thought your mama said you’s divorced, Martha Maye.”
“Not quite,” Martha Maye said through her teeth.
“Name’s Lenny.” He stuck out his hand. “And I’m here to win back my wife’s love.” Junebug gave him a hard stare, ignoring his outstretched hand. He took his hand back and continued.
“I literally must have been dumber’n four o’clock noon to let this woman go.”