by Amy Metz
“Lenny, what do you want? And get your feet off my table.”
“You, baby, I just wanna be with you.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m done being a maid and a cook. I haven’t missed waiting on you hand and foot, and I haven’t missed your indifference, your condescension, or your temper. I’ve had a taste of freedom, and let me tell you, Leonard Skynyrd, it tastes mighty good.”
“Well, haven’t you become little Miss Spunky?” He laughed. “I like it. You’re sexy as Hell, Marty.” He scooted closer to her. “I know I done you wrong before, I know I was a jackass, but here I am on my knees.” He actually got on his knees and knelt before her, clasping her hands in his. “I’m literally begging your forgiveness and asking for another chance.”
She shook her hands loose. “Oh, Leonard, get up. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“I’m a fool for you, baby,” he drawled, conjuring tears in his eyes.
“Tell me about your plans. How are you gonna make it up to me and Butterbean?”
He laid it on thick. “I plan to be the best car salesman Goose Pimple Junction has ever seen. I’ll sell car after car after car, and pretty soon I’ll own that place. Once I’ve made a little money, I’ll buy you a house for the three of us to live happily ever after in.” He paused and then added with a wink, “Maybe we can even make it the four of us.”
She stared at him. “Who are you and what have you done with the hooligan I left just three months ago?”
“Hey! Watch your mouth, baby. Let’s just say I’ve seen the error of my ways. I’ll even start going to church with y’all every Sunday, and afterward we can go to Applebee’s over in Washington County.” He looked at her for a moment and then said, “Just what is a malcontent, anyway?”
She ignored him. “You’d start going to church with us?”
“I said I would.” He made every promise he could think of and none he planned to keep. He could tell she was wavering and decided not to push his luck.
“I’ve given you a lot to think about. Even though I’d like nothing more than to put my hands all over that hot new bod of yours, I’m going to show you what a changed man I am. I’m going to leave before I lose control of myself.”
With that, he got up, kissed her on the cheek, and started to leave. At the door, he turned around. “I’ll show you, baby. Just give me a chance. Sure as the vine twines ‘round the stump, you are my darlin’ sugar lump.”
Walking to his car with a smirk on his face, he thought, Check step five off the list. Or was it step six? I really need to find that list.
Martha Maye sat in the chair in which Lenny had left her and wiped the sloppy kiss from her cheek. She wanted to believe him, for Butterbean’s sake, but she wasn’t sure.
And then there was Johnny to consider. There had been something between them since the moment she flew into his arms after the kidnapping. Maybe it was just that he’d helped save her, and he’d been the first person to make her feel safe again. She could still picture him standing there in his state trooper uniform, looking large and in charge. She thought it was more than just hero worship, though. She felt happy when she was with him. She found herself thinking about him during the day. He was sweet, brave, and thoughtful. He made her feel special. They had intelligent conversations, he listened to her when she talked, and he didn’t make her feel dumb. Why couldn’t it be that way with Lenny?
Because Johnny made her feel like a woman—like a desirable woman. “You make me feel like a natural wo-man,” she sang softly to herself, hugging a throw pillow and picturing Johnny’s smile.
No, Lenny isn’t going to make me change my mind so fast. He’s going to have to prove himself, if he can. And by gosh, I am going to have coffee with Johnny. And maybe even dinner.
At A Blue Million Books, the bookstore Louetta owned, she and Tess were going through their closing rituals for the day. Lou counted the cash register, while Tess straightened up the tables.
“Lou, did I see Caledonia in here earlier?”
Lou put her finger in the air to indicate she needed another minute. When she finished counting, she looked up and said, “Yeppie. She and Peanut were in just to bring Peekal some supper. She says she doesn’t see much of him anymore, what with him over to my house all the time with Charlotte.”
“That’s sweet.” Tess picked up a brown leather book. “I like this journal with the marigold on the front.”
“I do too, Tessie. I’m gonna order more.”
“I think that’s just about it for tonight.” Tess walked toward the back room.
“Is Jackson coming to get you to—” Lou stopped speaking when the bell over the door jingled. Tess saw a tall, good-looking man with a beer belly, slick-backed dark hair, and pork chop sideburns reminiscent of Elvis Presley walk in.
Where’s your white sparkly jumpsuit? Tess thought.
“Evening, ladies,” Elvis said.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed for the night—”
Lou interrupted Tess. “We’re closed forever to the likes of you, boy.” She squinted at him, so narrow they were almost closed.
“Aw, Lou, you ain’t got no call to treat me that way. I am your granddaughter’s father, after all. And I’m a changed man —and I mean to prove it to all y’all.”
“Lenny, a steaming pile of poop may stop steaming, but it’s always gonna be a pile a poop. Don’t you try to sweet-talk me, boy. I’m so old I owe Jesus a nickel, and I know a thing or two.” Lou had her hands on her hips, radiating disgust. A natural pink flushed underneath the red rouge on her cheeks.
“I want you to know I feel just awful about the way I treated Martha Maye, Louetta. I got a wake-up call when she left me, and I’ma prove to y’all that I’m worthy of her taking me back. I got a job rightcheer in town, and if you’ll just give me a chance, you’ll see.”
Lou glared at him and said, “That don’t butter no biscuits.”
“Huh?” Lenny scratched his head.
“I can say I’m Minnie Pearl, but that don’t make it so.”
“Who?”
Louetta glared at him, while Tess gawked.
“Louetta, if I’da knowed better, I’da done better. Now I know better. All’s I ask is that you keep an open mind and urge Martha Maye to do the same. I know how much stock she takes in your counsel.”
“You want me to tell my daughter to give you another chance, even when every fiber of my being is screaming, ‘Do not give that heathen one iota of anything’?”
“Even then.” He nodded vigorously. “I’ll prove to you both I’m not the same man who drove Marty away. I freely admit it was all my fault before, and I aim to make it up to her.”
Lou eyed him for a long moment. Tess stood by silently, unsure of what to do. Her eyes went from Lenny to Louetta.
“Whatchew think, Tessie?”
“I . . . I . . .” Tess was saved by the bell over the door when Jack walked in. He looked at all three of them, arched an eyebrow, and closed the door.
“Everything all right in here?” he asked, looking from person to person and walking over to Tess. He kissed her on the cheek.
“Tess, Jack, this here’s my son-in Martha Maye’s …” Lou stammered and finally settled on, “Buttabean’s father, Leonard Applewhite.”
“Call me Lenny.” He strode forward in three broad steps, holding his hand out for Jack to shake. He shook Tess’s hand too, reluctantly and limply, as they all exchanged pleasantries.
“Well.” He looked around nervously. “I won’t be keeping y’all any more. I just wanted to stop in and say hey.” He moved to Lou, leaned in, bobbed awkwardly from one side to the other, and finally gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Abyssinia.” He turned, strode quickly to the door, and then he was gone.
“Abyssinia?” Tess was puzzled, and as always, she looked to Jack for a translation.
“I’ll be seein’ ya,” Southerner Jack translated for Northerner Tess.
“Whatchy’all think?” Lou walked to t
he door and locked it with a flourish.
“He reminds me of Eddie Haskell,” Tess said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Lou said. “And if you lie down with dogs, you’ll get up with fleas.”
Outside on the sidewalk, Lenny confidently strode to his car, saying under his breath, “Commence step three. I may not have won over the old bat yet, but it’s a start. Purty soon I’ll have them all literally eating outta the palm of my hand, licking my boots, and kissing my butt.”
Thinking about what Lou said about biscuits, he twirled his key ring on his finger and thought, Biscuits belong in the oven, but buns belong in the bed.
You can hide the fire, but what’ll you do with the smoke?
~Southern Proverb
On Saturday morning, when Martha Maye opened her front door, a bright red present with a big white bow sat in the middle of the doormat. She picked it up and read the tag.
To Martha Maye,
I’m obsessed with you!
From your secret admirer.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
She opened the package and turned the pretty oval-shaped perfume bottle in her hands. Calvin Klein’s Obsession.
Feeling her stomach plummet, she scanned the street but saw no one. “That’s weird,” she said out loud. “But then, so’s talking to yourself.” She tried to shake off the creepy feeling of someone watching her.
“Did you say something, Mizz Martha Maye?” Charlotte, who was babysitting, emerged from the kitchen with Butterbean following. They were both holding Barbie dolls.
“What’s that, Mama?” Butterbean pointed to the box.
“Here, sweet pea. Will you put this on my dresser for me? I’ma be late if I don’t get going.”
“Can Barbie have some?” Butterbean asked.
“Sure, honey.”
“Where’d it come from?” Charlotte asked, pointing the perfume bottle and spraying Butterbean’s Barbie.
“Oh, somebody dropped it off. Probably one of my students. Y’all have fun, now. I’ll see you later.” Her eyes swept the street as she walked to her car, but she didn’t see anything suspicious.
Ten minutes later, when Martha Maye walked into A Blue Million Books, Pickle was up on a ladder dusting and replacing books on the highest shelves. He wore cargo shorts, green Chuck Taylor sneakers, and a green T-shirt that said, AS A MATTER OF FACT, I WAS RAISED IN A BARN.
“Hi, Pickle, hireyew?”
“I’m right as rain and twice as shiny.” Pickle came down from the top of the ladder smiling his goofy smile.
“Mama said Aunt Ima Jean isn’t doing well today. She asked me to fill in for her, at least for a while.”
“Hey, that’s mighty nice a you considering it’s a Saturday. Don’t teachers always sleep in on Saturday?”
“Not with a ten-year-old in the house.” Martha Maye walked toward the office.
“Hey, Mizz Martha Maye, you know that pot of flowers that was out front next to the door?”
She turned back toward him. “The marigolds?”
“Yeah. When I came in today, it wasn’t there. Mizz Tess said she didn’t know what happened to it. Did Mizz Lou take it home?”
“I don’t know why she would have, but I’ll ask her.”
“Okay. It’s just that it’s my job to water it, is all.” He pointed to the back of the store. “Mizz Tess is in the back room.”
“Thank you, sugar.” She walked a few steps, then backtracked to the front window, turned the CLOSED sign to OPEN, and went to find Tess, who was, indeed, in the back room and had just taken a big bite of pineapple muffin.
“Hu, Marfa Mu.” Tess’s mouth was full of muffin.
She swallowed and tried again, hand covering her mouth. “Hey, Martha Maye.” Offering a muffin, she added, “Sorry. I shouldn’t be eating this, let alone stuffing my mouth full.” She put the plate on the desk. “Your mother said you were filling in for her today. Did you bring Butterbean?”
Martha Maye puckered her lips, scrunching them sideways on her face. She sat down hard in a chair. “No, she’s with Charlotte until her daddy picks her up. They’re going to spend the day together.”
She peeled back the muffin paper a little bit and took a small bite. “Oh my gosh, Tessie. Why’d you give me this? I’m trying to keep the pounds off, and here I go eating this. Oh, but my golly gosh, your pineapple muffins are delicious.” Her eyes rolled back in her head as she savored the taste.
“Thanks. I know what you mean. I bake these for other people, and then I end up eating them.” Tess studied Martha Maye. “You look like something’s bothering you. Are you worried about Butterbean being with her daddy?”
Martha Maye put the half-eaten muffin on the desk and screwed up her face. “Are pork chops greasy?”
“You don’t think he’ll mistreat Butterbean, do you?”
“I don’t reckon so. He’s been a decent enough daddy. It’s the husbanding department he sucked at.”
“Was he ever violent with you?”
Martha Maye thought for a minute. “Not really violent, but I always thought he was on the edge.”
“What do you mean, on the edge?” Tess tossed a final bite of muffin into her mouth.
Martha Maye picked at her muffin, putting another small bite in her mouth. She was trying to decide what, and how much, to say. Tess waited patiently.
Finally, Martha Maye said softly, “Well, there was one time when we were arguing. I don’t exactly remember what it was about, but we were both fussing. He came over to me and put his hands on both my arms.” She got up and put her hands on Tess’s upper arms, just below her shoulders. “Right about here. He squeezed so hard, and I was so afraid . . . I started crying and begging him to let me go.” Martha Maye shook Tess slightly, demonstrating what Lenny had done. Her brow wrinkled as she talked.
She dropped her hands and walked back to her chair. She continued, almost in a whisper, picking at her muffin. “He slapped me across the face. Said I was hysterical.”
“Oh, Martha Maye. You must have been terrified.” Tess moved to her friend’s side.
“I was. And if I wasn’t hysterical before he hit me, I sure as shooting was afterward. I broke loose and locked myself in the bathroom.” While she’d been talking, she’d absentmindedly broken off little pieces from the muffin. She stared down blankly at what used to be the muffin but was now just a pile of crumbs. Lost in thought, she poked her finger around in the mess.
“Butterbean heard the commotion and came into the bedroom just as I slammed and locked the bathroom door. I don’t know if she’d overheard all of what we said, but she saw Lenny banging on the door and yelling at me to come out. I could hear her screaming and crying, but Lenny was so full of rage he didn’t appear to notice or care. Then I heard a loud bang and a crash, and I was more terrified for Bean than I was for myself.” Martha Maye took a deep breath and let it out.
“I opened the door just as Lenny swept past Bean, who was screaming at the top of her lungs by then. I grabbed her up in my arms and locked us both in the bathroom. Both of us were wailing away, crying and slinging snot. A few minutes later, I heard him start the car and drive away. When I came out of the bathroom, I saw he’d thrown a lamp across the room.”
As if coming out of a trance, when she finished recounting the fight with Lenny, she looked up, giving Tess a weak smile.
“Stuff like that.” She crinkled her nose.
Tess had been quietly listening to the story with one hand on her friend’s arm, but once Martha Maye finished, she wrapped her up in a hug. “Oh, sweetie, how horrible. Why didn’t you leave him then?”
“I guess I was afraid. I talked to my minister about it. Not all of what I just told you, but enough. He prayed with me, told me where some shelters were, told me to always keep my keys by the door in case I needed to leave in a hurry.”
Tess shook her head. “I’m not sure that was the best advice he could have given you.”
“I don’t think he ever
would have counseled me to leave my husband, but he tried to make sure I was safe. Reverend James offered to talk to Lenny, but I never told him. If I had, he would have been livid.”
“He would have been mad you talked to your minister?”
“Mad I told the minister about him.”
“And so you stayed.” Tess rubbed her back in slow circles.
“Until this past summer. Until I couldn’t take it anymore.”
A few hours later, Martha Maye looked out the store’s big picture window and saw Lenny and Butterbean cross the street, heading for the bookstore. She hurried to the back room, telling Tess as she passed her, “Don’t tell him I’m here.”
“Tell who?” Tess was confused. Then Lenny stepped through the door. “Oh,” she said under her breath.
He wore a New York Mets baseball cap, which he neglected to take off when he came inside. Tess smiled and greeted Butterbean. She looked coldly at Lenny. “Can I help you?”
“You’re Tess, right?”
She nodded.
“I never forget a beautiful woman,” Lenny said, pronouncing it woe-man as he always did.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. Pickle appeared out of nowhere and stood next to her.
“Who’re you?” Lenny asked bluntly.
“Pickle Culpepper. Who’re you?” Tess looked at him with amusement, and he added, “Sir.”
“I’m Lenny. We were just looking for my wife.”
“We want to take her to lunch,” Butterbean piped up, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Oh. You just missed her. She left to go, uh, to go. . . ” Tess looked at Pickle for help.
“She went to Lou’s for lunch,” Pickle blurted out.
“Oh, that’s right. She went to Lou’s.” Tess nodded, thinking that was a smart choice because Lenny probably wouldn’t want to see Lou. She gave Pickle an appreciative look, then turned to Lenny. “We’ll tell her you stopped in.”
After Lenny and Butterbean left, Pickle said, “He looks like a nice enough fella. Why’d Mizz Martha Maye want to hide from him?”