by Annie Rains
Mother’s head came up with a glower. “This dress most certainly isn’t a wedding dress,” she said. “And when you get married, you’ll be wearing white and marrying a man with a college degree. Is that clear?” Mother’s eyebrows arched.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I expect you to marry a young man from a quality family, like the people you come from. Why, when I was a girl in Charleston, I had at least a dozen beaux, and all of them were from the best families in town.”
Oh boy, that was a bold-faced fib if Sharon had ever heard one. Unfortunately, Mother had been fibbing about her background for so long that she no longer remembered the truth. She may have been born in Charleston, but Sharon’s granddaddy was a dockworker. And Sharon’s daddy wasn’t from a rich family either, even if he had gone to college and become a bank manager. Daddy had died from a heart attack two years ago, and Mother had never been quite the same. She lived her life in a kind of dream world in which Sharon was the next best thing to a debutante. Being selected this year’s Watermelon Queen didn’t help any when it came to Mother’s delusions.
Sharon squared her shoulders and fixed her gaze on the wall. There was no point in trying to get Mother to see the world as it truly was. Besides, Sharon was in no hurry to get married. Not even to Stony Rhodes, her boyfriend, who would also be a freshman at Carolina this fall.
“And another thing,” Mother said through the pins clenched in her teeth. “When you get to college, you will remember that you are a refined southern lady. There will be boys up there who just want to take advantage of you. Don’t let them lead you down a garden path, if you know what I mean.”
Sharon knew exactly what Mother meant. She had plans to encourage Stony to do a little bit of that sort of thing. Sharon had even made a secret appointment with Planned Parenthood and was now in possession of a diaphragm for the moment when she and Stony finally did the deed. But that wouldn’t be until they got up to Columbia together.
Mother would have apoplexy if Sharon ever went to the Peach Blossom Motor Court, like other kids did on prom night. That was too risky, what with Lillian Bray always checking out the parking lot. Since Daddy had died, Sharon had avoided conflicts with Mother. So waiting was the wisest choice all the way around. There would be plenty of time up at Carolina.
The back screen door creaked open and slammed shut, and Stony’s eight-year-old sister, Rocky, waltzed into Mother’s kitchen like she owned the place.
“Hey, Miz McKee,” Rocky said as she skidded to a stop. As usual, the little girl’s dark, curly hair was in complete disarray, and her knees were so grubby it would probably take steel wool to clean them. She was barefoot.
Mother straightened and glared at Rocky. “Hasn’t your mother ever taught you any manners? You don’t just walk into other people’s houses without knocking. Can’t you see we’re busy?”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Mother, we’re not that busy,” Sharon said, practicing her best Watermelon Queen smile on the little girl.
Rocky grinned up at her. “Holy moly, Sharon, you look like Cinderella.”
“Well, that may be, but I don’t want to become Cinderella,” Sharon said.
“Why? Cinderella gets the prince, doesn’t she?”
“There’s more to life than marrying a prince,” Sharon replied.
Mother frowned. “There is?”
“Yes, Mother. The reason I’m going to college is not to find a prince. I’m going there to get a degree in social work.” The truth was, Sharon had already found a prince. Right here in Last Chance, and he lived next door.
Mother blinked. “Sharon, I’m glad you want an education, but social work? It’s so demanding and depressing. Couldn’t you study something a little happier? You’re a talented piano student. Why not study music or liberal arts?”
“Because I don’t want to be a musician. And majoring in liberal arts is like studying nothing very useful. I want to help people in trouble, Mother, and for that I need a degree in social work.”
“Well, in my opinion, Miss High and Mighty, you ought to be interested in the opportunities college will give you to meet nice, eligible men.”
Presumably these would be the nice men who weren’t interested in leading her “down a garden path.” Boy, there were some serious blind spots in Mother’s worldview. Mother just didn’t understand what Sharon wanted to do with her life.
Mother took that moment to glance at the kitchen clock. “Good gracious, Sharon, it’s ten minutes to one. You’re going to be late for the blood drive. Although why you want to give blood as a Watermelon Queen is beyond me.”
“Because Crystal Murphy needs another operation and her family has no health insurance.” Crystal Murphy was six years old, and one of Sharon’s Sunday school kids. She’d broken her pelvis last spring when a bad storm had hit the trailer park up in Allenberg. The Murphys were living in a double-wide because Hurricane Hugo had flooded them out last fall.
“Oh,” Mother said, “I didn’t know.”
There was no sense in reminding Mother that Reverend Reed had made a special request for help from the pulpit last Sunday. So she kept her mouth shut and escaped down the hallway to her room. Rocky followed like a little shadow.
“I feel sorry for Crystal,” Rocky said.
“So do I.” Sharon smiled at the little girl. “So, what have you been up to today?”
“Nothing much. No one wants to play with me. Clay is in the backyard with Ray building a tree house. Tulane is trying to help them, but they say he’s too little, and they’re being mean to him. Stone’s at the store. And I’m bored.” She plopped down on Sharon’s bed.
“It’s summertime. You shouldn’t be bored,” Sharon said as she removed her dress and hung it on a padded hanger.
Rocky shrugged. “I don’t have anything to do. And Savannah’s gone home to Maryland. It’s always so cool when she comes to visit. Her granddaddy lets us sit up in the projection room at the Kismet.” The little girl took a big breath. “So are you and Stone going to sit in the back row tonight and kiss?”
Heat crawled right up Sharon’s face. “Rocky Rhodes, that’s not a nice question. And if you’re bored, how would you like to help me and the rest of the Watermelon Court at the bake sale?”
“You mean it?”
“Sure, I need some help carrying cupcakes. But you’ll have to put on shoes and wash your knees.”
Rocky looked down at her grubby toes. “Okay. But I hate shoes.” The little girl paused for a moment. “How come asking about you and Stone kissing in the back row of the theater isn’t a nice question? I mean, everyone is talking about how you and Stone are going to get married. So of course you’re gonna kiss, right?”
Surprise hit Sharon like a punch to her stomach. “Who told you that?”
“Everyone down at the Cut ’n Curl.”
Rocky’s mother, Ruby Rhodes, owned the only beauty shop in Last Chance. And naturally it was gossip central. “Everyone at the Cut ’n Curl is talking about me and Stony?”
“Well Miz Randall said something about you and Stone, so of course that means you’re going to get married pretty soon. That would be pretty cool, ’cause I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have as a sister.”
This was not happy news. Sharon was headed off to college and a career. Sure, she wanted to get married, eventually. And she loved Stony enough to marry him. But she was only eighteen. She was way too young to be the object of this kind of talk—especially from Miriam Randall, Last Chance’s practically infallible matchmaker. Boy, when Miriam started making matches, people went kind of crazy. Sharon needed to put an end to talk like that.
“Stony and I are not getting married anytime soon,” she said. “People need to quit jumping to conclusions around this town. Now, go on and put on some shoes. And then wash your hands and knees real good, with soap and a washcloth. I’ll meet you on the porch in five minutes. Don’t be late.”
* * *
Stone Rhodes st
rode into the post office on Palmetto Avenue. He hurried back to the mailbox he’d rented a few months ago, when he’d decided to keep his plans secret. The manila envelope he’d been expecting had finally arrived. He took it from the box and stared at the insignia of the United States Marine Corps on the return address.
He opened the envelope and pulled out the documents. The marines expected him at Parris Island on August sixteenth—in just a little more than two weeks.
Excitement coursed through him. He wanted this challenge.
Now he just had to convince his father and mother that becoming a marine was a better choice than going to college.
Daddy would forgive him for what he’d done. After all, Daddy had served his country in Vietnam, and his Purple Heart stood on the mantel in the living room. But Momma was going to have his hide. Momma and Sharon both expected him to go to college. And, boy howdy, those two women were single-minded. But they would have to come around. First of all, there wasn’t enough money for him to go to college. He hadn’t gotten all the scholarships he’d hoped for, probably because of his English grades. And second of all, he was tired of school.
All that schooling was just idiotic for a guy who had no desire to be a bank executive or a lawyer or a doctor. Or even an engineer. Those were occupations Momma and Sharon had decided he should go for.
But Stone wanted to be a marine. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.
Well, the deed was done. He didn’t have to argue with anyone about it, which was fine by him. He’d been captain of the football team, not the debate club. The only issue was who to tell first. Sharon. Definitely. She’d made all these plans for the two of them, and she deserved to hear his reasoning directly—not through the Last Chance grapevine.
He was heading out the post office door, thinking about how he was going to break the news to his girlfriend, when he ran into Miriam Randall, the chairwoman of the Christ Church Ladies Auxiliary, an active member of the Last Chance grapevine. He probably shouldn’t have held the door for her, but Momma had drilled politeness into him. He couldn’t just walk past her without saying howdy.
“Stone Rhodes, I do declare, you are the very person I want to speak with. In fact, I was just looking for you up at the hardware store.” Miz Miriam always wore pantsuits and sneakers. She had a way of perching her half-moon reading glasses up on her forehead. You didn’t want to get sideways with Miz Miriam. And you sure didn’t want to become the object of one of her matchmaking schemes.
“Hey, Miz Miriam,” he said, trying to sidle away from her, “nice seeing you. I gotta go, because—”
“Now, Stone, you just hold your horses one minute. I have something important to tell you.” Miriam grabbed him by the upper arm. She hauled him across Palmetto Avenue and right into the little vest-pocket park in front of city hall where this year’s Watermelon Court had organized its bake sale and blood drive to benefit the Murphy family.
He looked for Sharon, but didn’t find her.
Miriam headed away from the bake sale tables, toward the other side of the little park, where she found a bench shaded by a big oak. It was as hot as blue blazes out, but Miz Miriam didn’t seem to notice.
“You sit down now, son. I have something important to say to you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He was done for.
“Stone, honey, I have to tell you that I’ve been worried about you.”
“You have?”
He looked up just in time to see Sharon hurrying across Palmetto Avenue carrying a tray of cupcakes in her hands. Rocky was shadowing her, as usual. Sharon had clearly worked her magic on Stone’s little sister. For once, Rocky’s knees looked almost clean, and she was wearing a pair of shoes. That was a miracle right there.
“Son, are you paying attention to me?” Miz Miriam asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, ma’am. You’ve been worried about me. Why is that, Miz Miriam?”
“For a lot of reasons. It’s clear that I need to tell you something very important. Something that, quite frankly, I don’t think you’re old enough to hear. But it seems as if the Lord wants for you to have this knowledge now. Otherwise He wouldn’t have given me any signs.”
A cold shiver crept up Stone’s spine. He had just fallen into one of Miriam’s traps. There was nowhere to run or hide.
“Now, honey, here’s the thing you need to know,” Miriam said. “I’m quite sure you’re supposed to be looking for a woman who wants to change the world.”
He almost laughed aloud as he watched Sharon take charge of the bake sale on the steps of city hall. As usual, she pulled a clipboard out of her book bag and began diligently checking off items on her list. Sharon was a champion list maker and people organizer. She bossed people around, but no one minded. Especially when she smiled. Heck, when she smiled, everyone melted and did her bidding just because she asked. It was kind of amazing, really.
“Son, your attention keeps wandering.” Miz Miriam sounded a little bit annoyed.
“I’m sorry. I was just watching Sharon whip everyone into shape. I think she might have a future as a drill instructor.”
Miriam snorted. “So, what’s this bake sale for?”
“The Murphys. Crystal needs another operation.”
“Oh, I remember Reverend Reed said something about that last Sunday. I reckon I should have known Sharon would organize something.”
“She’s getting the entire Watermelon Court, not to mention the Davis High offensive line, to donate blood and buy cupcakes.” He felt incredibly proud of his girlfriend.
Miz Miriam leaned over and patted Stone’s knee. “Well, son, I suppose it comes as no surprise that your soul mate is going to be a crusader. But, here’s the important part: it’s your job to be her anchor.”
Stone stared at the old woman. He had no idea what that meant.
Miriam turned toward the activities at the other end of the park. “Sharon sure is a busy girl.”
“I guess.”
“She’s chairing the paint-a-thon at the church tomorrow, isn’t she? And Lessie Anderson was telling me the other day that she’s single-handedly raised thousands of dollars for the Murphys. And I’m very impressed with this blood drive she’s organized.”
“Thanks, Miz Miriam. I get your message loud and clear.” Stone stood up and tried to leave.
“Do you really?” Miz Miriam cocked her head as she looked up at him. “Stone, your life is about to change in a lot of different ways. That’s what happens when folks leave home for the first time. So, I’m telling you right now that most crusaders end up returning home disillusioned. And that’s why crusaders need someone to remind them of what the crusade is all about in the first place.”
Okay, he could see how Sharon was a crusader, but what the heck did Miriam mean with the last part? He didn’t ever see Sharon becoming disillusioned. Ever. And she sure wasn’t interested in leaning on anyone. She was fiercely independent. Stone liked her independent streak best of all.
“I know you’re too young for this, but I hope you’ll remember what I’ve told you. Promise me you will?” Miriam said.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll remember.”
“All right, you can go. Tell Sharon to save me one of those cupcakes of hers. And tell her I’m in for a ten-dollar donation to the cause.”
Yup. Typical. Sharon was a crusader. And Stone had no doubt that she would probably save the world, one cupcake at a time.
* * *
Sharon hurried across Palmetto Avenue with Rocky in tow. She prayed that Stony’s little sister wouldn’t drop the pineapple upside-down cake she was carrying. Sharon knew good and well that it was tempting fate to let Rocky carry the cake, but the little girl had seemed kind of forlorn today. Rocky had needed an “important” job to do.
Annie Roberts, Sharon’s best friend, was already on the scene, thank goodness, and was supervising the hanging of the big sign that the members of the Key Club had painted last night. It looked terrific. “You’re late,” Annie
scolded as she rescued the cake from Rocky’s arms and placed it on one of the folding card tables.
“Mother decided to hem my Watermelon Queen dress. I swear she thinks I’ve been elected queen of something important.” Sharon pulled her clipboard out of her book bag and started checking her to-do list for the event.
Everyone was there already. Emily had brought chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies, Ashley had brought an apple pie, Jessica had brought homemade fudge, and Annie had brought a carrot cake; with the pineapple upside-down cake and the cupcakes, all the food pledges were in.
“Did you get some one-dollar bills and quarters for change?” Sharon asked Jessica.
“Yes, ma’am, and Momma said she was going to make a twenty-five-dollar donation. I started a pledge form.”
“Good.”
“Emily, when are the football players coming?”
“Around two. Chester got the loan of his daddy’s pickup, and they’re going to pull the float down Palmetto. All the guys are going to be on it with signs. It should be really great.”
Sharon made another check against her list then looked up. Stone was across the park, sitting with Miriam Randall in the shade of a big oak tree. “That’s ominous,” she said.
Rocky followed her gaze. “What’s that mean?”
“It means scary,” Annie said, as she looked over her shoulder.
“I told you so,” Rocky said. “I heard Momma telling Miz Anderson that Miz Randall wanted to talk to Stone.”
Jessica stared across the park. “Holy cow, Shar, this has to mean you’re getting married.”
Sharon took a big breath. “No.”
“No?” Annie said with humor in her voice.
Stony stood up and shoved a manila envelope into his back pocket. He didn’t look very happy with Miz Miriam. “Really, y’all,” Sharon said, turning away, “you have no idea what Stony and Miz Miriam are talking about. They’re probably just passing the time of day.”
Emily giggled. “Ooooh, I just love weddings.”
Sharon inwardly cringed, then plastered her best Watermelon Queen smile on her lips as she faced the members of her court. “There is not going to be any wedding. Not anytime soon, anyway. Today, we’re going to have a blood drive. So, are y’all ready?”