The First Ladies Club Box Set

by J B Hawker

  The women emerged into the dark disorder of the attic.

  Shirley crossed to the window and pulled back the ragged and crumbling curtains, letting in just enough light to see a chain hanging from the single bulb affixed to a beam in the roof. She pulled the chain with a click and the small dusty bulb cast a watery light over even more boxes and clutter than they’d encountered in the basement.

  “This is going to take a while,” Naidenne sighed.

  *

  Carver Schramm, weak from vomiting and dysentery, watched from the trees as an old woman unpinned sheets and towels from a clothesline in the farmyard below.

  He had been forced to move away from the highway due to his ill health and the lack of cover on the road approaching Bannoch.

  Ill and weak, he needed a place to hide out until he was well enough to continue north.

  Even in his weakened state, he felt certain he could overcome an old woman. This isolated farmstead was just the sort of place he’d been looking for.

  Before he could make his way down the hill into the yard, Shirley stepped out the back door and walked over to join Maizey at the clothesline

  “We’ve found several really nice pieces upstairs, Maizey. I called Jack to come help us get them down from the attic and haul them to the shop in his pickup. Let me help you with those sheets while we wait.”

  When Naidenne came out to join the others, Schramm couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  In all his dreams while incarcerated, this was the woman who filled his twisted fantasies.

  In his feverish state, Carver made up his mind. Before going any further north, he would have this tall, golden-haired female.

  He had to lie down for just a moment to catch his breath before he dared to tackle all three women.

  Schramm needed to rest and regain his strength. A few minutes should give him all the energy he and his knife would need to eliminate the old broads and convince the tall one to make his dreams come true.

  Awakened by sounds of a pickup truck bouncing over the rutted drive, Schramm sat up suddenly and nearly swooned.

  When he saw the truck pull up to the farmhouse and a man hop out, Carver was filled with rage. He knew he’d missed his opportunity.

  Keeping out of sight, he crept closer until he could hear the conversation going on near the open door.

  “Say, you’ve got quite a haul here! Did you leave anything at all in Maizey’s attic?” Jack asked.

  “Don’t worry, Jack, they didn’t get anything I wanted to keep. If they’d even tried, I’d a’ just grabbed my old man’s trusty shotgun I keep by the door here and dusted their backsides with buckshot,” Maizey responded.

  “Don’t be silly, you two. Let’s get these pieces loaded into the truck. Naidenne needs to get back home to fix the pastor his supper,” Shirley said.

  “Rosamund still out of town? I thought she did most of the cooking in the parsonage,” Jack said.

  “Yes, she’s still away, so I’m afraid Scott will starve if I don’t get home soon, you know what rotten cooks preachers are…always expecting divine intervention in the recipes.”

  Naidenne joked to cover her unease about Rosamund’s continued absence.

  In only a few moments the sculptures were loaded, and the departing vehicles were throwing up a cloud of dust on their way back to the paved road.

  Schramm had heard enough to learn Naidenne was the wife of one of the local preachers, a man named Scott.

  Hearing about the old woman’s shotgun changed his mind about taking over this particular farmhouse and he began shuffling, weakly, in the general direction of Bannoch.

  *

  Maureen Oldham was fussing around a shelf filled to overflowing with birds.

  There were stuffed birds, ceramic birds and crystal birds of every size and shape. A glance around the crowded sitting room revealed even more avian examples.

  One could easily identify Maureen’s chosen decorating theme.

  “I just can’t seem to get these right,” she spoke to herself as she rearranged the ornaments.

  “If Vince was here, he would give me his opinion…it would be wrong, of course, but it would help me see what I was after. Just hearing him say some stupid thing was always helpful, somehow.”

  She sighed and gave up on the birds for the moment, deciding she needed a cup of tea.

  Once in the kitchen, she heard a robin’s chirp coming from her Birds of the West wall clock and knew it was late enough to find something for dinner.

  A woman had to eat, even though it wasn’t much fun cooking for one.

  She’d enjoyed putting on a big spread for the pastor and his new wife on Sunday, but she didn’t feel like thawing out the leftovers for herself; too much fuss with all the various dishes.

  Maureen rummaged in the freezer and finally selected a bag of individually wrapped fish fillets.

  If Vince were here, she’d whip up a beer batter coating and deep fry them to serve with corn fritters and coleslaw. That seemed like too much work, just now, so she popped a single fillet into the microwave, cut up a tomato and buttered a slice of bread.

  The tomato didn’t look like the ones she used to grow in her garden, but there hadn’t been time to plant a garden after moving back to Bannoch. Next year she’d get one in, for sure.

  This little house on the far southern edge of town had plenty of room for a nice garden and very few nosy neighbors to bother her.

  She’d never thought twice about people observing her working in the garden until Vince brought home a couple of those wooden signs to put in their yard, the ones showing a gardening man and woman from the back, all bent over pulling weeds. All you saw was their great broad derrieres. From that moment, Maureen couldn’t bend over in the garden without wondering what sort of picture she might be presenting to passersby.

  Vince thought those signs were hilarious, of course. Maureen happily sold them in the yard sale before they’d had to move to Portland to that special housing unit for folks, like Vince, with Alzheimer’s.

  The assisted living apartment was a nice enough place, but it wasn’t her home.

  She’d missed Bannoch and all her church activities too much to remain in Portland once Vince was gone.

  A note on her bird-themed kitchen wall calendar reminded her of a women’s mission society meeting coming up soon.

  Maureen was eager to get back to the work of the church. No telling how the other ladies might have let things slip while she was gone. They never seemed to know what to do unless she was there to tell them.

  That new wife the pastor got for himself didn’t look like she would have been much help. Too tall, for one thing.

  Height was all right for a man…why, her Vince was nearly six feet tall when they got married, but women should be modest about everything. Any woman as tall as Naidenne was just showing off.

  The microwave dinged and Maureen slid the fish onto her plate next to the bread and tomato, sprinkled everything liberally with salt and pepper and took it to the sitting room.

  She set her plate on the coffee table and turned on the TV. It was time for her shows, Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune.

  *

  Carver Schramm gulped cool water from the hose attached to the back of the garage beside Maureen Oldham’s house. He was severely dehydrated and needed to rest. Seeing his fantasy woman in the flesh had given him a temporary a surge of strength, but it soon left him while tramping through the coastal wilderness.

  He leaned against the garage and slid down to the grass. He needed to rest a bit before checking out this house and deciding his next move.

  Rest now; track the woman down later, when he had the strength to really enjoy it.

  Schramm drifted off with his mind full of all the things he would do once he got his hands on his tall, golden fantasy girl.

  Chapter Nine

  In the chill morning fog, the growling of the garage door opener roused Schramm as he slept slumped on the damp grass behind the
garage.

  Still groggy with sleep, he heard a car engine and the door rolling back down, followed by the sounds of tires crunching on gravel as Maureen drove away.

  He couldn’t believe it. He’d slept clear through the night, but at last he seemed to be feeling a little better.

  If the people who lived here had driven away, now would be a good time to check the place out, see if he could keep any food in his system and get cleaned up.

  Not bothering to try to be quiet, he picked up a pink painted rock from the flower border and smashed it through a windowpane on the backdoor before reaching in to unlock it.

  As mean as he still felt, if anyone remained in the house Schramm would enjoy using his knife, again…on a live victim, this time.

  He was almost disappointed when he failed to encounter anyone while checking out the small bungalow’s rooms.

  Once he was certain the place was empty, Carver backtracked to the kitchen where he ate a carton of yogurt.

  While waiting to see how his stomach reacted, he returned to the bedroom and looked through the closet for some clean clothes. Schramm wasn’t the most fastidious of men, but even he was disgusted by his filth and the reminders of his illness.

  Rejecting the old-fashioned suits hanging in the back of the closet, he grabbed a dusty white dress shirt and a pair of green polyester slacks, and then rifled the wardrobe drawers, finally grabbing a pair of white cotton boxer-style granny panties, in disgust.

  After showering, he donned the shirt and slacks over Maureen’s clean underwear.

  Passing a mirror as he left the room, Carver fancied the lady’s undies made him mince ever so slightly and he kicked out, shattering the mocking reflection.

  He rummaged through the cabinets, drawers and purses in the house, uncovering around fifty dollars in small bills and change, which he thrust into his pockets.

  His insides seemed to have been soothed by the yogurt and he began to feel real hunger, so he returned to the kitchen for a more substantial meal.

  As he ate, Schramm began to feel stronger and decided to stay put in this cozy spot until he was well enough to pursue his long-legged goddess.

  He would deal in the usual way with the people who lived in this house, whenever they returned, and would not leave until it suited him.

  *

  Oblivious to the danger awaiting her at home, Maureen was busily reestablishing her dominance over the women of the mission circle. The six elderly ladies who had turned up for the monthly meeting were taken completely unaware when she showed up and were woefully unprepared for her onslaught.

  “So, that’s what we will do for now. I’ll call you all individually later in the week with more detailed instructions. Any questions?” Maureen asked before immediately going on to her next topic.

  “Now, the issue of the church roof has come to my attention. Apparently, we need a whole new roof and the only way to pay for it is to cut the pastor’s salary.”

  One of the ladies gasped.

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” Maureen snapped. “His fashion model wife makes plenty of money. She could probably make up the difference by cutting back on shopping and beauty parlor treatments for a few weeks.”

  “But, Maureen, what do we have to do with the roof? That’s the trustees’ concern,” another woman spoke up, tentatively.

  “I will stay in touch with the deacons and trustees and get back to you. We may get some grumbling from the pastor about this, so we need to present a united front. Since there is no more business for today, this meeting is adjourned.”

  “But, Maureen….”

  “I’ve got to get back home. There’s so much to do since moving back here. Just not enough hours in the day. Bye!”

  The other women metaphorically peeled themselves off the floor where Maureen’s steamroller tactics had left them, and shakily began to discuss the morning’s events to try to decide what they were going to do now the infuriating woman had returned.

  Maureen was backing out of her parking slot, intent on getting back to her household chores, when she spied Josiah Watkins coming out of the utility shed with a pair of hedge clippers.

  She stopped her car, blocking the entrance to the parking lot, and walked over to her informant and comrade in arms to see what progress had been made on the roof repair plans.

  “Howdy, Maureen,” Josiah greeted her as he began haphazardly snipping at stray branches on the Japanese holly hedge bordering the parking lot.

  “How’s tricks?” he asked her.

  “I’m overworked and underappreciated, as usual. Nothing changes around here, does it? I’ve been trying to straighten out the women’s missionary circle this morning. They haven’t accomplished very much since Vince and I had to move away, but I’ll get them back into shape. You’d think the pastor would have picked a woman with some leadership ability for a wife, but she doesn’t seem to have taken charge of any of the women’s work.”

  “Well, she is one of them modern women who work outside the home, you know. Doesn’t leave much time for the church.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk about. Orville mentioned the trustees’ plan to reduce the pastor’s salary to offset the cost of a new roof, now that he has his wife’s income. I just want you all to know the women’s mission circle supports that idea one hundred per cent.”

  “Good to know. The pastor didn’t take to it much, so we may have a bit of a tussle on our hands.”

  “You can count on me to rally the women of the church, Josiah. If my Vince were still head of the deacons, he could have pushed it through. As it is, I’ll be doing all I can…and you know that’s a lot. Gotta run home, now. Too much to do and too little time.”

  Josiah nodded and went on with his desultory clipping while Maureen bustled back to her car and drove off, without even a nod to her longsuffering pastor waiting patiently in his idling car to drive into the parking lot.

  Scott pulled into his space, waved a greeting to his dour sexton, and walked into the church.

  Velma Parker, one of the members of the mission circle, was coming up the stairs from the fellowship hall as he entered.

  “Can I give you a hand, Velma?”

  “Thank you, Pastor Scott. Can you take these dishes, just until I get up the steps?”

  “I wish we were in a financial position to provide a ramp or a lift from downstairs for you ladies. Unfortunately, the balance in the building fund never seems to get big enough for such improvements,” Scott said, as he went down and took her tote bag containing the empty serving dishes.

  When she reached the landing, Velma paused with an indecisive expression before turning to Scott to retrieve her dishes.

  “I um, I understand we have a new expense coming up requiring almost all those building funds,” she said.

  “There seems to be a leak in the roof over the choir room, but we haven’t gotten any quotes from roofers, yet. We won’t know how big a hit the fund will take until we do.”

  “Oh, that is good news! Here, I can take that, now.”

  “Let me carry it to your car for you. Don’t worry about the roof until we know the extent of the repairs. ‘Sufficient unto the day are the troubles thereof,’ you know.”

  “Of course. Thank you, Pastor Scott. Please give my love to Naidenne.”

  Velma drove away, leaving Scott to return to the church.

  “So, the rumor mill has already begun grinding,” he mused.

  *

  Once more headed back home, Maureen remembered she needed to pick up some bird seed and detoured to the grocery store, where she dashed inside, still intent on getting home as soon as possible.

  Rushing to the pet supplies section, she ran headlong into Orville Locke.

  “Whoa, there, Maureen. Where you headed in such an all-fired hurry?”

  “I’ve got things to do, Orville. What are you doing blocking the whole aisle, anyway? Other people like to shop, too, you know,” Maureen snapped.

  “Just set
tle down, now. No call to run around like a chicken with your head cut off. What’s so important you can’t stop to gab with an old friend, anyway?”

  “I’ve still got boxes to unpack at home, from the move and all. And I’ve been trying to get the women’s work at church straightened out, too. There’s never enough time to do everything on my plate.”

  “Why not take a little break? What did the ladies at the mission circle think of our idea for paying for the new roof? Was there any grumbling?”

  “Of course not! Why would there be? Every one of those ladies agrees with me. We need a new roof and there is no reason the pastor shouldn’t pay his share. Why, we’ve been supporting him for years, when all he does is teach a few Bible studies and preach for half an hour once a week. We don’t get paid to teach Sunday school or listen to his sermons, do we? He’s had it too easy for too long. He should be happy to pay for the roof now that he has his wife’s money, too.”

  “I wonder if she’s tithing that extra income…I’ll have to take a look at the treasurer’s records. I know where my Gladys keeps them.”

  “You know, that’s a good idea, Orville. If she hasn’t been giving her share, and push comes to shove, we can say the roof would make up for what she’s been holding out on God.”

  “Course, we couldn’t say how we know. Gladys is pretty particular about people’s privacy, even the pastor and his missus.”

  “I don’t know why they should object to the whole church knowing their giving habits. They are supposed to set us an example in every area of Christian life. They should be volunteering the information.”

  “Yeah, like the Good Book says, they shouldn’t be hiding their light under a bushel. Why would they want to keep it secret, unless they’re ashamed?”

  “You just remember that at the next meeting of the Boards. I’ve got to get my bird seed and head on home, now. Give my regards to Gladys. Tell her we missed her at the mission circle, but I’ll be calling her to let her know what jobs we’ve assigned to her.”

  With that, the little woman trotted down the aisle, grabbed the bag of seed and impatiently made her way to the line at the check stand.