by Jan Karon
She was embarrassed that she had not been more careful with the block letters, which had taken a very, very, very long time with lots of erasing.
On Tuesday, she had raced next door to deliver her story because Mr. Hogan called the bookstore and said hurry, it was a deadline. There was no time for her mom to spell-check and she had dashed through the shoe store and up the stairs as fast as she could. But Mr. Hogan was not there and Miss Vanita Bentley was not there, so she left it on the desk that was neat and not the messy one with things falling on the floor.
Her heart beat fast as she looked at her story, which spread across two pages! There was the picture of her with Miss Louella. It was good of Miss Louella but not good of her because she was smiling and you could see the gap where her tooth was missing.
She read the printed caption.
Miss Louella Baxter Marshall, a longtime resident at Hope House with the author of this story, Miss Grace Murphy. When asked for her advice about life, Miss Louella says, ‘Love whoever God sets down in front of you. Even the mean ones, ’cause they can sho use it.’
She could hardly breathe. She had never seen her name in a newspaper before and hoped people would like the story. She would never, ever write another story this long till she learned to type with both hands.
• • •
J. C. Hogan was quick to acknowledge that he wasn’t a complete dunce. The 43-inch screen and the grill had both been disappointing in the long run. So maybe Tim Kavanagh was right.
He was in the office early this morning as he wanted to do this at his computer, in private.
He selected 14-point Century Schoolbook and typed:
Have I told you lately that I love you?
So, okay, it was a song title, but it would work as an opener.
Your problem, said the article he read in a magazine at the Wesley barbershop, is that you have shut down your true feelings. You have no clue how you feel about anybody or anything. Long story short, you did not hang the moon, it is not all about you. Go to your gut—how do you really feel about her? Dig deep or call it a day.
So how did he feel about Adele—deep down? He sat back in his desk chair, closed his eyes. One thing he knew for sure—marrying her was the best thing he ever did. Didn’t she keep him in decent clothes? Iron the occasional shirt? Stay after him about a sensible diet? Rub his feet after he had pounded the pavement all day?
And how about reading his editorials and cheering him on? And nursing him when he was sick as a dog with his blasted annual sinus infections?
Pre-Adele, he was a disaster. Maybe he was still a disaster, he didn’t know. He sat up, typed, and added an underline for emphasis.
Marrying you was the best thing I ever did.
He took a deep breath and stared at the framed quote over his desk. If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign? So much for the jerks who called his desk the Dumpster. That little nugget was from Albert Einstein, no less.
Eighteen words so far, and how long had he been sitting here? Twenty minutes? Thirty? Lord knows.
Speaking of—he could pray. Did prayer always have to be about ending war and feeding the hungry? Tim Kavanagh had said many times it was good to talk to God about th’ little stuff as well as th’ big stuff. So maybe compared to th’ suffering in th’ world, this was little stuff, but it was big to yours truly.
He felt awkward praying, but he did believe in God and Jesus and even th’ Holy Spirit, though th’ Trinity was tough to wrap your head around.
He made the sign of the cross as Father Brad did every Sunday before preaching. His mind went completely blank.
When he snapped back, he thought about her job. It was tough. Not that she ever had to take out any hardened criminals, but tough. And they’d never been anywhere to speak of, except Wisconsin twice to visit her family. People in this town were not world travelers except for Percy and Velma Mosely, who’d been on, like, four cruises where Percy learned to order drinks with umbrellas. Out of bed at four in the morning for thirty-five years, to open up th’ Grill and fry livermush? Percy deserved it.
Maybe they should go somewhere romantic. Vanita could put out an edition if he left her with enough photo stock and ad backup.
But wait. He wouldn’t mention a trip till later. That would be his ace.
He looked at the ceiling, sighed; studied his shoes. Brown.
Face it, he hadn’t been the best husband. Feelings scared him. A few times in his life, he had gone to his gut as the magazine said, and did not want to go there again.
And yes, now that he really thought about it, he loved Adele Hogan. But what if she didn’t love him anymore? ‘Let that go from your mind,’ Tim had said. ‘If you love her, tell her about it. And see where the chips fall.’
He looked at her photo on his desk. She was in that dotted blouse she wore on their first date; he’d been nuts about her. The very thought made him feel . . . what? Mushy.
So if he could think up one more line, he’d be done. The operative word here was note, not letter. But the line had to be a closer, it had to have punch. Had he told her lately that he loved her? Not in maybe a year or two or three. Like, he thought the grill/TV combo would do th’ talkin’, but obviously not.
I love you . . .
Maybe he should add something like dearly or passionately? No. He was not going off the cliff here.
But wait. He felt his hair stand on end—yes!—and completed the declaration.
. . . forever
He looked at the words he had just written; added an exclamation mark. Call him butter, he was on a roll! So maybe a bonus line.
And I am very proud of you.
It was something he’d meant to tell her since she was promoted to captain a few years ago.
He sat back in the chair, out of breath. What had just happened here? He had stopped to really think about Adele. Maybe he’d actually gone to his gut, because something had just happened here.
He folded the note, put it in the envelope, and licked the flap. He would give it to her tomorrow morning with her gift which he hadn’t decided on yet.
But no, he couldn’t wait.
Heart hammering, he legged it to the station and sat across from her desk while she read it. What if it was too mushy? What if she didn’t care anymore? When she looked up, he thought he’d never seen her so happy. Fact is, he couldn’t remember being so happy himself.
‘This is th’ sweetest thing I ever read in my life.’ There were tears in her eyes. ‘Do you really mean it?’
‘I really mean it,’ he said with a knot in his throat. He got up and whipped around the desk and leaned down and kissed her. ‘Yes, I do. I really mean it.’
The chief walked in and had a laugh. ‘You’re disturbin’ th’ peace there, Hogan.’
‘Ten-four, Chief. Just kissin’ your captain.’ He could not wipe the grin off his face.
On the way to the Muse office, he stopped by the Local for a Snickers. An eighteen-wheeler was blocking the southbound lane, with Otis directing traffic. He found Tim Kavanagh signing off for thirty-five-pound bags of sweet potatoes and a stack of crates from the Sunshine State.
‘I hate to admit this, buddyroe.’
‘Admit it anyway,’ said Father Tim.
‘Just so you know. It’s not pork chops.’
And out the door of the Local went J. C. Hogan—whistling, of all things.
• • •
There had been no time to check the Muse at home this morning, so he bought one out of the rack at the Local.
There was Jack on Dooley’s shoulders. And the clown on stilts. And Esther and Ray and the begats on the float. And Coot waving and happy. It had been a very good day for Mitford.
At break time, he had a cup of tea and a quick read at the cash register.
MISS LO
UELLA:
A True Story
By Grace Elizabeth Murphy
PART ONE
Miss Louella Baxter Marshall lives at Hope House. She says she is old as a mountain but she is only 97. She has seen a lots of things in her life. She was raised by Miss Sadie who used to live at Fernbank at the top of the hill with the orchard. Miss Sadie was four or five years older and called Miss Louella her baby.
Miss Louella said they were very close. She did not sometimes know where she stopped and Miss Sadie started!
When Miss Louella was little, Miss Sadie pulled Miss Louella around in a red wagin. They went all around the huge yard and through the orchard and to the playhouse Mister Ned built.
There is a happy story and a sad story about the wagin. Because it is Christmas, I will tell you the sad story first so you can read the happy story last and feel good when you finish.
One day Miss Sadie’s mama gave them a quarter each and said they could go to town with the wagin for the very first time by theirself. Miss Louella was allowed to carry Miss Sadie’s best baby doll that day because it was Miss Louella’s birthday. She was three or maybe four. She could walk as good as anybody but Miss Sadie like to pull the wagin and Miss Louella like to ride.
Miss Louella said be careful on the bumps I don’t want this baby doll name of Annie to fall out much less my own person.
They got to town and went to the drugstore that used to be where the Happy Endings bookstore is now which is my mom’s bookstore. I can help you if you come in on Saturday.
Miss Sadie bought a vanilla ice cream soda with two straws.
Miss Sadie sat on the bench out front and Miss Louella sat in the wagin and they handed their soda backwards and forwards to each other. It was the best thing Miss Louella ever tasted.
Two mean boys walked up and one said you could give me a drink of that soda and Miss Sadie said no this is our soda and the boys stolen it away from them and said its ours now and called Miss Louella a very, very bad name and drank it all up. Then they grabbed Annie and ran off. Remember Miss Louella was only three or maybe four and she bust out in tears but Miss Sadie got screaming mad and ran after them hard as she could but she could not catch them.
I’ll ride yall and your wagin home said the drugstore man. And off they went in a Buick car. Even in a car it seemed a long ride home and uphill all the way.
Miss Sadie ask the drugstore man what is the boys name and where do they live cause her daddy was what they called a FORCE in Mitford even if he was gone a lots on traveling. Their names was Lewis Young and Boid Bentley. Miss Louella said she never forgot those names.
Miss Sadie knew if she told her mama what happen her mama would not let them go to town again by theirself ever. So she told her mama because she and Miss Louella did not want to go to town again by theirself ever.
They were both heart brokened about Annie and cried half the night. But the next day as a treat they were going to play queen riding in a golden carriage. So they went out to the apple barn to get their wagin that would be a golden carriage and it was gone.
If you have a bike or a car and ride it all the time and it is your favorite thing that is how you would feel if it was stolened.
Miss Sadie’s daddy was in Paris France and they could not sik her daddy on the thiefs. So Miss Sadie and Miss Louella made up a plot. An eye for an eye said Miss Sadie quoting the Bible her mama read to her—and a toothe for a toothe.
PART TWO
Miss Sadie’s mama went to visit the sick so Miss Sadie ask Ned who wirked at Fernbank to take them to town. Miss Louella said Ned was a sweet white man who was kind to everybody.
Ned said who say I can take yall to town?
Mama said we could not take the wagin to town ever again so you will have to take us.
That was the truth, but Miss Sadie said it like he was supposed to take them to town because her mama said to.
Where you gon go in town said Ned?
Over back of Ivy Lane.
Ned’s truck would do 35 miles an hour! They loved to ride in his truck.
So they drove by Boids house and saw his family had a barn. If you was to steal somebodys wagin where would you put it said Miss Sadie?
Let’s see said Ned I would put it in my ole barn.
So Miss Sadie and Miss Louella jump down and run into Boids barn and there was the wagin but not their baby doll annie.
They went in and was going to take out their wagin and wait for Ned but they heard somebody comin and hid behind a lots of hay bales. They were scared to deathe. Do not cough or sneeze said Miss Sadie and Miss Louella did not cough or sneeze a single time but she said she wet her pants which were pink overalls.
It was Boid an Lewis. Boid said let’s charge kids two cents apiece to ride over and back to the drugstore which now is my mama’s bookstore name of Happy Endings.
Lewis said plus we can charge 2 cents extra for whoever wants to ride holdin th baby doll. But I will have to steal it from my sister who give me a dime for it.
They went off with the wagin, but Miss Sadie and miss Louella did not come out till they heard Ned’s truck.
Please take us to the house next to Miss Angelina Haygood’s house said Miss Sadie.
When they got there Miss Sadie said to Louella you sit in the truck and she went to the door and knocked. A woman came to the door. Miss Sadie said my baby doll Annie is here I would like to have her back.
The woman said we do not have your baby doll and slam the door.
Take us to the drugstore please said Miss Sadie.
She told Ned she would preciate it if he would ride in the red wagin for 4 cents. I will give you 4 cents.
Does I have to hold the baby doll said Ned.
The wagin come along after awhile pulled by Boid with Lewis walking behind and riding 2 kids with runny noses and one holdin Annie.
Miss Sadie gave Ned his 4 cents so he could ride and hold the baby doll at the same time. Ask to go down to the hardware and back again she said and when you get back we will put the wagin and the baby doll in the truck and go home.
Ned got in the wagin and said take me to the hardware and back and the mean boys stuck our their hand and got 4 cents.
‘Have a nice ride!’ said Miss Sadie.
Miss Louella said Ned was a powerful big man with long legs like a grandaddy spider and could not fold his legs all the way in the wagin. Plus he was too heavy to pull very far so Boid and Lewis took off runnin and kep the 4 cents.
Ned walked back laughin and pulling the wagin and holding the baby doll with people on the street clapping.
Miss Sadie said it is a shame they ran away because I did not get to give them my note. She took it out of her pinnafort pocket and read it to Miss Louella.
My daddy is on his way back from Paris France. If you ever tuch anything of mine and Louellas again what will happen to you will be so terrible I cannot even put it in words. You should learn how to be nice. It is easy if you have any brains.
Yours sincerely,
Sadie Eleanor Baxter
Almost fifty years later Boid knocked on Miss Sadie’s and Miss Louella’s door in Mitford. It was Chirstmas Day and he said he was truly truly sorry. They invited him in and Miss Sadie set out peanut butter and crackers and Louella made fried chicken with green beans and mashed potatoes and gravy.
THE END
• • •
Otis hung up the phone.
‘Daddy’s on his way. So you can have th’ rest of th’ day off.’
‘You needn’t do that. Really.’
‘Daddy likes to come up to th’ store. He don’t say much, but he gits th’ job done. You go on with your family.’
He felt the muscles in his neck relax. ‘Otis, do you know what you are?’
Otis did not care for personal questions.
‘You are a champio
n. The real deal. Bless your heart. We love you and Lisa. You’re the best.’
Otis turned red as a beet, but the grocery cleric had said what needed to be said.
Puny and the twins arrived at the house at one o’clock. He noted again how the Guthrie clan had an agreeable way of pouring into a room.
Puny presented them with a dozen eggs from the flock, a quart of apple butter, and her famous cheese wafers. Riches galore!
‘Granpa, here’s my gift!’ Sassy handed him an egg decorated with a portrait of himself!
‘My nose,’ he said, ‘looks like a rutabaga.’
This simple truth evoked hilarity.
Sassy handed an egg to Cynthia. Another portrait.
‘Are these wrinkles?’ said his wife in mock astonishment.
‘Yes, ma’am, but just around your eyes an’ mouth an’ some on your forehead.’
Puny gasped. ‘I cannot believe you said that! Miss Cynthy does not have wrinkles, she has laugh lines. I would give anything to have laugh lines.’
At that, the adults had a laugh.
‘My gift is better!’ Sissy held up a sheet of paper. ‘I wrote you an’ Granpa Tim a poem.’
‘My present next!’ said Tommy.
‘No, mine next!’ said Timmy.
‘I was born first,’ said Tommy.
‘Would you like me to read my poem to you? Or just give it to you on paper?’
‘Don’t read it!’ said Tommy. ‘I’ve heard it a thousand times.’
‘I’d love you to read it!’ said Cynthia.
‘Me, too!’ said the ornery granpa.
Moans, groans, shrieks of laughter.
After the flurry of gift exchanges and cups of hot chocolate, the clan headed out to Mamaw and Papaw Cunningham’s.
‘Thank you for all their books,’ said Puny, who was looking a little frayed around the edges. ‘An’ the hand vac, which I was dyin’ for, an’ the bonus an’ everything. I love y’all to pieces! Merry Christmas!’
‘We love you back,’ said Cynthia. ‘Merry Christmas!’
