The Way We Are

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The Way We Are Page 9

by Shelly Desjarlais


  “Oh, I am sorry. An unmarried woman is so strange around here is all. I was wondering if you’d like to sit with me at the front of the church.”

  “That’s a kind offer,” Hazel glumly responded.

  “Pastor Gable has a wonderful sermon this week. You’ll absolutely love it,” Mrs. Gable beamed.

  Hazel couldn’t help feeling like there was something more to the story. “I believe that I can hear the sermon fine from any seat in the church, ma’am. My ears are wonderful that way. I’d hate to take the best seats in the house from those who are hard of hearing.”

  “One seat won’t be a problem,” Mrs. Gable continued.

  “Sometimes, the smallest of things make the biggest difference,” Hazel retorted.

  Mrs. Gable huffed. “I really would like you to join me and Mrs. Bean. Not enough people know you around here. We should make you a bit more visible. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

  “It’s also neighborly to allow others the pleasures of a beautiful sermon. I’d be happy to meet people once the service is over,” Hazel fought.

  “I see. Are you sitting with someone else in particular?”

  Now, Hazel knew Mrs. Gable’s true motive. She wanted to see if Hazel was spending time with someone particular in town. Hazel thought of a perfect response.

  “I am sitting with Jesus Christ, ma’am. I find that I connect with Him the most when I sit in the back where it is quieter and more intimate.”

  “Interesting,” Mrs. Gable sighed. There was no way to dispute that. “I’m glad that you have found a way to connect with the Lord in our church.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad too. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to find my usual pew and say a prayer before service.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Gable said as she stepped aside.

  With a sigh of relief, Hazel spotted Carolyn in her corner. Hazel promptly moved closer. She sat down and cheerfully grinned. She was proud of herself for dodging that bullet. The last thing that she wanted was to sit with the women in the sewing circle. She had more than enough of them after the sermon.

  “That blackberry pie was delicious. I’m not just saying that,” Hazel told Carolyn.

  “Thank you. I was hoping you’d like it,” Carolyn blushed.

  “I’d bake something for you in return, but I think that I’m allergic. I can cook all right, but there’s something daunting about a mixing bowl and a cake recipe.”

  Carolyn laughed. It was a boisterous laugh that caught the attention of Mrs. Bean, who was rather close to the back of the church. Mrs. Bean immediately found the situation unusual. In all her years, she had never heard Carolyn Jennings laugh. It was also abnormal for a young woman to spend time with Mrs. Jennings. Other than the noticeable age difference, it was bizarre for anybody to be near that farmer. Most people couldn’t get past her stoic expressions.

  “Mrs. Gable,” Mrs. Bean called.

  Mrs. Gable arrived. “Mrs. Bean?”

  “Look over there,” Mrs. Bean said while she gestured to the back of the church.

  When Carolyn laughed again, Mrs. Gable shook her head. “Something is going on, Mrs. Bean.”

  “What is it, Mrs. Gable?”

  “Those two. I overheard a conversation in Elmer’s store. They were leaving messages for each other. And, when I invited Ms. Mayer to sit with us, she refused. She always sits with Mrs. Jennings for some reason,” Mrs. Gable explained.

  Mrs. Bean hummed to herself. “I might have a thought, Mrs. Gable.”

  “Do share, Mrs. Bean.”

  “I think that Mrs. Jennings might be a mother figure to Ms. Mayer. That maybe she’s trying to help Ms. Mayer get out of her engagement. It doesn’t seem like she wants to marry Mr. Miller at all. She doesn’t seem to love him either. At least, that’s the impression that I’ve gotten a few times.”

  “I have thought the same thing, Mrs. Bean. Ms. Mayer doesn’t want to marry the man. Maybe Mrs. Jennings is helping her plot an escape,” Mrs. Gable agreed.

  “Could be. We’ll have to see what we can find out, Mrs. Gable.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Bean.”

  Thankfully for Carolyn and Hazel, it didn’t occur to Mrs. Gable or Mrs. Bean that there could be a romantic connection. That sort of thing didn’t happen in Debarr. Regardless, the gossip hounds smelled a story and wouldn’t dream of backing down until they knew the truth.

  The service began right on time. It felt like the sermon went on for a generation, as it normally did. Carolyn and Hazel were glad when the music began. They tried to be more overdramatic with each song. It became a game that they loved to play. While Carolyn moved her mouth up and down with the lyrics, Hazel leaned into Carolyn’s side. “Carolyn. Hey, Carolyn.”

  “What?” Carolyn muttered.

  “We should sing The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze instead,” she suggested. Hazel began to sing for Carolyn’s ears only. “As the man upon the trapeezzeeee, oohhh! He’d fly through the air with the greatest of ease, that daring young man on the flying trapeze…”

  Carolyn choked on a thick set of giggles. Her voice remained low. “You didn’t tell me that you can really sing. What’re you pretending to sing with me for?”

  “It’s far too much fun to pass up. Where was I? Oh. His movements were graceful, all the girls he could please and my love he purloined away. He’d play with a miss like a cat with a mouse. His eyes would undress every girl in the house…come on, Carolyn. You know it.”

  “Perhaps he is better described as a louse, but the people they came all the same,” Carolyn sang in response.

  Hazel disruptively chortled. A man two pews ahead sharply looked behind him. Hazel held her hand over her mouth while Carolyn tried to cover the noise with rough coughs. Glaring, he went back to the hymn and the rest of the congregation.

  “Next verse?” Hazel requested.

  “We best start pretending to pay attention before everybody pays us attention,” Carolyn quietly returned.

  “That’s too bad. I like just paying attention to you,” Hazel smirked.

  Several rows up, the man glanced over his shoulder again. It didn’t seem like it mattered much, in their minds. However, that man was a farmhand for Ronnie Richardson.

  Eighteen

  Carolyn ran from Pastor Gable while Hazel was caught by his wife. She joined the sewing circle and prepared for the charade. She’d be the happy and doting fiancée, determined to see her love once more. It made her ill, but it was what she had to do to survive in Debarr. That Sunday, the women were not going to make things easy on Hazel.

  “When is the wedding going to be? Right when he comes home?” Mrs. Gable asked.

  “I would assume so,” Hazel replied.

  Mrs. Bean hopped in. “Wouldn’t you want it to be? He is the love of your life, isn’t he? I’d imagine that you’d be beside yourself, wanting to promise yourself to him.”

  “Yes, but we want the wedding to be perfect. We have been planning it for years,” Hazel answered, which was partly true. She was stalling as long as she possibly could.

  “Isn’t that riveting, Ms. Mayer? All of the little details. The dress, the cake, the flowers…” Mrs. Gable listed.

  Mrs. Mare let out an excitable shriek. “Oh, the dress! That’s the best part.”

  “Have you chosen a dress yet?” Mrs. Bean asked Hazel.

  “No. Working on it,” Hazel began to get annoyed. She attempted to shift the focus. “How are you today, Mrs. Deanwood? What did you wear at your wedding?”

  “She wore a lovely white dress with lace around the edges,” Mrs. Gable answered for her. She went back to Hazel. “Are you going to wear white? You are, aren’t you? It’s traditional.”

  “And what about a veil? I had a beautiful veil,” Mrs. Sadey commented.

  “You did,” Mrs. Mare agreed. “Of course, the dress is still the star. Will it be new or secondhand, Ms. Mayer? We like keeping dresses in the family here.”

  “How about your mother’s dr
ess? Was she around your size? Maybe a sister? Dresses just have more meaning that way,” Mrs. Bean smiled.

  “My mother was not my size, and my sister had to sell her dress a long time ago,” Hazel snapped.

  Mrs. Gable noticed that Hazel’s patience was waning. She was getting to the point. “Are you going to have the wedding here or back in Boston?”

  “Boston. Our family and friends are there,” Hazel hissed.

  “Would you invite anyone from here in Debarr? I’m not sure how many friends you’ve made, but I guarantee they’d be happy to attend,” Mrs. Gable remarked.

  “Oh, yes. We are very supportive here,” Mrs. Sadey said.

  “Towns like this stick together or they fall apart,” Mrs. Mare agreed.

  “I’ve made a few friends here. Mrs. Deanwood here is a lovely woman. We talked about books once or twice, and I’d enjoy speaking with her again after this. If she wouldn’t mind,” Hazel coolly responded.

  “Of course. You’re always welcome,” Mrs. Deanwood confirmed.

  Mrs. Gable pounced. “I’ve seen you talking with Elmer and Rodger before. Ronnie too. And I’ve seen you with someone else. I believe that her name is Mrs. Carolyn Jennings.”

  “What?” Hazel asked as her mouth went dry.

  “I’ve seen you around each other a few times is all. What do you know about her?” Mrs. Gable asked.

  “Yes, do tell. We don’t much about her,” Mrs. Bean added.

  “All I know is that she helped me when my car broke down. I’m grateful to her, so occasionally we speak,” Hazel’s veins began to burn.

  “She is such a quiet woman. What would you speak about?” Mrs. Gable asked.

  “Mrs. Gable, that is my business and not yours. My personal connections are mine alone. I don’t think that the entire town needs to know whom I call a friend and whom I consider an enemy,” Hazel spat.

  This greatly interested Mrs. Bean. “An enemy? Do you have enemies here, Ms. Mayer?”

  “Everyone has at least one neighbor that they aren’t fond of, Mrs. Bean. If anybody in Debarr says otherwise, they’re not being truthful. Currently, I’m not fond of being put on trial,” Hazel snarled.

  “Trial? Are we putting Ms. Mayer on trial?” Mrs. Mare wondered.

  “We aren’t doing that,” Mrs. Bean huffed.

  “Mrs. Deanwood, would you say that they’re badgering me?” Hazel asked.

  The woman didn’t want to get in the middle, so she kept her answer vague. “They are asking a lot this Sunday.”

  “Thank you,” Hazel nodded. She stood up and dramatically dropped her sewing supplies on her chair. “Ladies, it has been a pleasure. However, I must take my leave.”

  “Don’t go. We were only chatting,” Mrs. Gable attempted to sound honest.

  It didn’t work. Hazel scarcely kept her eyes from rolling. “I don’t mind a casual chat, ma’am. I do mind an interrogation. Where I come from, people have the decency to whisper behind my back. Not rip into me like vultures trying to feast upon the bones in my closet. I’ll see you in church next Sunday. And, Mrs. Deanwood, I’ll have to come by your home to discuss our recent readings some other time. Good day, ladies.”

  Hazel exited the church. Her spirit troubled the churchwomen dearly. Mrs. Deanwood began to worry, as she saw the same spunk in her friend—the one who was run out. If Hazel weren’t careful, Mrs. Deanwood began to believe that Hazel would suffer the same fate. Hazel, being as passionate and tenacious as she was, didn’t imagine that such a thing would be possible.

  Once she got home, Hazel leapt from her car and furiously kicked dirt towards the road. The dust and pebbles flew in all directions. She could have stomached talking about Eugene, but she refused to drag Carolyn into anything. It disturbed her that Mrs. Gable would know that she was with Carolyn often, yet it disturbed her more that they wanted details. That could only mean that Carolyn and Hazel’s behavior towards one another was powerful enough to be recognized.

  Inside, Hazel went into the bathroom. Sweat stuck like saltwater on her neck and chest, and her cheeks had become hot from anger. When she tried to turn the knobs on her sink, nothing happened. There was a faint gurgling sound, yet that was all. The old house probably had plumbing issues, Hazel figured. She needed someone handy with a wrench.

  She rushed to her car.

  *-*-*-*

  Carolyn was in the process of carrying bales of hay from storage to the horse’s barn. She worried about the weather that day. The sky was darker than usual, and her nose could sense it. After being a farmer her entire life, she could sense storms. If one wouldn’t be there that day, it’d be around another. She made a mental note to fix the holes in the roof of her storage barn. However, she promptly forgot the note. A car was nearby.

  She jogged to the gate of the house. Sure enough, it was Hazel. Carolyn waited by the gate, slightly smiling. Hazel went to the steps of the house at first, but she caught a flash of Carolyn’s golden hair and plaid shirt. She smiled when she realized that Carolyn was grinning. Grinning just for her.

  “Hello,” Carolyn called.

  Hazel walked to the fence as she spoke. “Hello. I feel awful for asking you for help again, but I have a problem that can only be fixed by somebody intelligent who owns a toolbox.”

  “And you’ve come to me because I own a toolbox?”

  “And because you’re intelligent. Can’t forget that part.”

  “You think too highly of me, darlin.”

  “You think too poorly of yourself, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart. Hazel knew that she was bound to call Carolyn that eventually. It merely slipped out as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Carolyn’s heart jumped at the sound. Sweetheart. Nobody had called her that, except for her husband in the early days. It was funny, however. She never believed it when he said it. She believed Hazel.

  “So…could you possibly help me? I know that I’ve asked you for a million things, so I would understand if you’re too busy,” Hazel continued.

  “I’m here for you. Don’t worry on that. What’s the problem?” Carolyn asked.

  “My sink won’t turn on.”

  “Plumbing? I’m not no plumber, but it can’t be all that tough.”

  “Thank you. Do you want to come over tomorrow?”

  “Sure. I can do that. Around lunch?”

  Hazel grinned. “I can make lunch this time.”

  “All right. I’ll bring the tools.”

  “Great. Until tomorrow?”

  “Until tomorrow,” Carolyn promised.

  Hazel nodded her head a few times. She hated to walk back to her car, but she knew that Carolyn was busy. “Have a good day and night, Carolyn.”

  “You too, Hazel.”

  As soon as Hazel was out of sight, Carolyn’s expression filled with joy. She had something to look forward to. It seemed like Hazel was always giving her something to look forward to. Yet, there was one thing that could make her visit even better.

  There was a book hidden in a drawer. Carolyn figured that it could be time to read it.

  Nineteen

  Hazel had to use the kitchen sink instead of the sink in the bathroom, but she wasn’t complaining. It wasn’t a major inconvenience, and it was an excuse to see Carolyn on a Monday. Carolyn had to rush through the first part of her day, but she wasn’t complaining either. She was thrilled that she had a reason to spend time with Hazel.

  At lunch, Carolyn appeared on Hazel’s porch. She held a toolbox and sported her usual overalls. Hazel melted whenever Carolyn paired them with the blue plaid shirt. Her eyes were perfectly accented. Speechless, she stepped aside to allow Carolyn to enter. Carolyn didn’t notice.

  “Good morning. Which sink do I need to look at?” Carolyn wondered.

  “Sink? Oh. Right. It’s the bathroom. This way,” Hazel distractedly informed her.

  Carolyn followed her through the hallway. Hazel nearly forgot which door led to the bathroom. She forgot most things that day. Ever since t
he churchwomen asked about her relationship with Carolyn, her mind was fuzzy. She knew what she wanted it to be, and Carolyn’s breathtaking outfit wasn’t helping matters.

  Humming, Carolyn inspected the sink. She turned the faucets off and on, yet they still didn’t work. Her voice startled Hazel. “Ah! I know what’s wrong. The bolts on the back collar got turned to the right when they ought to be to the left. Not to mention how the screw is rusted into the toes.”

  “Really?”

  “C’mon. I’m kidding with you.”

  “I didn’t realize that you were such a joker,” Hazel snickered.

  “Just when I’m around you. I like it when you laugh,” Carolyn mentioned. She went back to the faucet, giggling. “I can’t believe you thought there’s a part called toes.”

  “Oh, stop it.”

  “Sorry. I’ll give it a good look.”

  “All right. I’ll start on lunch. Nothing fancy. I barely cook better than I bake.”

  Hazel left for the kitchen while Carolyn got to work. Carolyn truly was not an expert on plumbing, but she could riddle out just about anything. Similarly, Hazel was not an expert when it came to ovens and cupboards. She mused that Carolyn could learn how to replace all the plumbing in the house before she could successfully follow a recipe.

  Sometime later, Carolyn was convinced that she had fixed the problem. She crouched beneath the sink to check on the pipe. Her voice carried. “Hazel, could you come here? I think I got it. I need you to try to turn it on.”

  Hazel eagerly pranced into the bathroom. She noticed Carolyn’s position. “What are you doing under there?”

  “Staring at a pipe. Can you turn the knobs up there? I’m sure the water will come out now.”

  Carolyn was correct. As soon as Hazel rotated the knobs, water flowed from the faucet. Rather than splashing downward, it sprayed Hazel. She held her hands out to shield herself from the stream.

  “It’s gone crazy,” Hazel said.

  “Huh? Oh no,” Carolyn said while she stood.

 

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