What Matters in Mayhew (The Beanie Bradsher Series Book 1)

by Cassie Dandridge Selleck

  “Well, there is a God in heaven is all I can say, Bean. I thought you and Bubba John were having an affair.”

  Even counting the recent kissing fiasco, Will had never heard Beanie Bradsher raise her voice, until now. Beanie snatched the hat from her head and sent it sailing through the kitchen door and down the hallway.

  “Well that is the stupidest thing I ever heard, Will Thaxton. What in God’s green earth made you think such a thing? Here I am, trying my best to keep the biggest secret ever! I knew I shouldn’ta let myself be sucked into espionage. I never thought for a minute he’d go and win the darn thing and now the whole town’s talkin’ about how much I won and I didn’t win anything but what Bubba John promised me if I’d play those stinkin’ numbers at the Indian store every week. Oh, this is just a big, big mess.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa…calm down, Bean.”

  “I am not calming down. No, I’m not! And how you could think I would do something so evil and awful and downright ugly, I will never in my life know.”

  “Here, Bean, drink this,” Will said, thrusting a cup of strong black coffee onto the table in front of her.

  Bean picked up the mug in both hands and took a huge swig.

  “Ow, ow, ow…why that’s hot, Will!”

  “Of course it’s hot. I just made it.”

  “Well that’s adding injury to insult, ain’t it? What am I gonna do, Will?”

  Beanie folded her arms, laid her head down in the crook of one elbow and wept. Will poured himself a cup of coffee and sat quietly across from her, not daring to touch her for fear of another outburst.

  “Beanie, it’s going to be fine. Stop crying now. Just sit up and tell me how this all came about.”

  It took a few more minutes of coaxing before Beanie dried her face on the dishtowel she was still holding and told the rest of the story.

  For at least two years, Bubba John Atwater bought gifts for Sweet from the Avon catalogs Beanie carried around town in her bicycle basket. Each time he placed an order, he gave Beanie an extra twenty-dollar bill, which she was to use to play the same set of numbers on the twice-weekly Lotto drawing. Bubba apparently was not adept at lying, and though he didn’t mind going behind Sweet’s back to spend a few dollars a week, he did not want to be caught doing something she was resolutely against. To Sweet, the lottery was the same as gambling and she was not going to have it.

  Since Beanie was the most honest person Bubba John knew, he felt like he could trust her to do the right thing if his numbers ever came up. He promised to pay her five percent of his winnings, after taxes of course. The products he bought on a regular basis helped Beanie out financially, and Sweet seemed to look forward to the gifts. Beanie was happy with the arrangement, but she never quite expected he’d win.

  And now there was the issue of telling Sweet, but Bubba John made up his mind to pull off the surprise of the century. He hired a contractor in Madison and ordered the survey on his mama and daddy’s old property out on the river. He half-expected Beanie to go claim the prize and give him his winnings, until they realized the tax ramifications of such a deal. Arranging meetings with two attorneys and a CPA in a town the size of Mayhew Junction was no easy feat. There were quick stops by the park, or in the grocery store, trying to catch Beanie when he could. He offered to buy her a cell phone, but she thought that was plain silly.

  Beanie wasn’t sure how Bubba John thought he was going to manage to keep a house a secret, but he was bound and determined to get Sweet Lee out of that double-wide trailer by Christmas.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me this to begin with, Bean,” Will said. “I’d have kept your secret. You know that.”

  “Well, I know, but Bubba John made me promise. He didn’t want to take any chances. But then we realized you’d have to take me over there, and he just had to let me tell ya. But, Lord, Will, that did not go as planned, did it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I’m gonna try to talk Bubba John into tellin’ Sweet. I don’t think my heart can take all this sneakin’ around. Some things get all blown outta hand, don’t they?”

  Will cocked his head to the side and squinted sideways at Beanie.

  “I think you mean blown out of proportion, Bean.”

  “Whatever. You know what I mean. This thing has snowballed into a whole nother can of worms. I’m just sayin’.”

  “Do tell,” Will said, and went down the hallway to retrieve Beanie’s hat.

  ***

  Hours later, after Will went to bed, Beanie tiptoed downstairs in a terry cloth robe and teal boots, this time no hat. She sat at the hall table and picked up the portable phone.

  “Hey,” she said, when a man’s voice answered. “It’s me. Can you come get me?”

  The clock on the wall chimed once.

  “I know it’s late… I know, but… You don’t know what I’ve been through today; it was awful… No, I can’t. Okay, yeah, I understand. Okay. I’ll see you Wednesday night then. Night.”

  Bubba John Atwater

  From the day I met Sweet Lee Prescott, I have never even looked at another woman, which means —technically—that I’ve never looked at a woman in the sense that I mean here, since we were both no more than children when we fell in love. What I mean is, I have always loved her. Always. Don’t ask me to explain it. I know what most people think about men in general, but I guess I’m like my daddy in that regard. When you are taught by word and by example what it means to be a gentleman, you take that to heart, and to behave any differently is just as insulting to yourself as it is to anyone else.

  Jimmy Carter was, and is, my hero. Here is this man, hard-working, humble, Baptist like my daddy—they were cut from the same cloth, I tell ya—the same exact cloth. Leather, actually, though maybe that’s not cloth. Tough, nearly indestructible, but soft if it’s handled right. Anyway, here is this man who is devoted to his family, teaches Sunday school, loves his wife, works on his peanut farm out in the middle of rural Georgia, and he runs for President of the United States! What in the world ever gave him that kind of courage? I think I know the answer. It was Rosalynn, plain and simple. She made him believe he could do anything—anything at all.

  And that’s how I feel about my Sweet. I can do anything I set my mind to, including giving her a house for Christmas. I’ve always wanted to build her a house, but there was never enough money to even think about the kind of house she deserves, and would actually want. I know my wife. She doesn’t want some fancy new brick house in a neighborhood. No, she doesn’t. She wants a place with a history that means something—like family. And I’m going to give it to her. I am. You watch.

  10

  The Awakening

  Sweet Atwater sat at the kitchen table across from her husband. This table, this very table, was the first piece of furniture they purchased together. Sweet, at eighteen, pregnant with twins and barely able to move—Bubba John, twenty years old, still gangly but growing solid with age and the weight of responsibility. The word itself was foreign to him, but he felt it just the same. Bubba John got his first Christmas bonus and wanted Sweet to have something nice - a necklace, maybe, or a diamond ring. He couldn’t afford a real engagement ring. They eloped just after Sweet’s eighteenth birthday, picking out wedding bands at a pawnshop in Georgia.

  But Sweet wanted a table. A pine farm table, long enough to seat a slew of children. Bubba John would give her the moon on a shining silver platter if she asked for it.

  “How am I going to tell my mama I bought you a kitchen table for Christmas?” Bubba John wondered.

  “How are you going to tell her you bought me a ring when we’re eatin’ off a card table?”

  “I see your point.”

  And he did see her point. Sweet was nothing if not practical and responsible – attributes he did not possess. They bought the table together, and they got a nice one, hand-planed and long, with sturdy ladder-back chairs, eight in all. And they filled all but one, slowly but surely.


  And now, as many times as Bubba John sat at this table, to eat or to play cards or to clean his guns, this time he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. Sweet sat directly across from him, her chin resting on her knuckles. She said nothing, just stared at her husband’s face.

  Bubba John put both hands flat on the table, then reached for the beer he placed at one end, then thought better and entwined his fingers, pressing both thumbs to his chest. After a moment, he began to rub his hands together as if he were washing them.

  Finally, Sweet reached across the table and pressed his hands down, effectively silencing the swishing sound. She kept her hand there, firm and strong, but somehow still gentle.

  “Talk to me, Bubba,” she said.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to tell me the truth.”

  “I have never lied to you, Sweet. From the day I met you, I have never told you an outright lie and I don’t want to start now.”

  “Then tell me what is going on with Beanie Bradsher.”

  “I can’t,” Bubba John said. “You’re just going to have to trust me. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

  “Are you sleeping with her?”

  “Um, that would fall in the “wrong” category, so no - absolutely not. I would never cheat on you.”

  “Bubba John, anything you do with another woman—that you hide from me—is cheating on me.”

  Bubba John squirmed and pulled his hands away.

  “You know what I mean, Sweet. I’m not—you know—I’m not fooling around or anything.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s a surprise. That’s all I can tell you. It’s a surprise and it’s for Christmas.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Bubba John, I have a drawer full of Avon supplies I won’t use in a million years. What could possibly be such a surprise that I can’t know?”

  “I can’t tell you. It would ruin the surprise.”

  “The whole town is talking. Do you get that? Your daughter has heard friends talking about seeing you and Beanie meeting at the park. Seriously, Bubba, what the hell?”

  Bubba John sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

  “Sweet Lee Atwater,” he said, looking at her full in the eyes and not blinking once. “I may not be the smartest man on earth, and I may have disappointed you an awful lot these past twenty years, but I love you. I have been meeting with Beanie, but it’s not what this town is trying to make it. And come Christmas, you’ll see. Could you give me ‘til Christmas?”

  Sweet looked at his face, searched for any sign of deceit, and found none. He was nervous, but not ashamed—embarrassed, but not guilty.

  “Okay,” Sweet said. “Until Christmas.”

  “I love you,” Bubba John said. “I really do.”

  “I love you, too, Bubba John.

  “Can I have my beer now?”

  Sweet laughed.

  “Since when do you need my permission?”

  “Since today, I think. I’m not sure.”

  Sweet picked up the bottle and brought it to her lips.

  “Ugh…warm.”

  “I don’t see how. It’s cold as ice in here,” Bubba John said, the lopsided grin creeping back to his face.

  “Don’t push your luck, Buster. It’ll get a lot colder if I hear another word about you and Beanie Bradsher.”

  “I can’t stop this town from talking, Sweet. You know how it is.”

  Sweet opened the refrigerator and retrieved a Bud Light from the vegetable bin. Plunking it down on the table, she slid it, unopened, into Bubba John’s outstretched hand.

  “I’ll make beer bread with the hot one,” she said.

  “Chili, too?” Bubba John asked hopefully.

  “I don’t see why not,” Sweet replied. “And while I do that, you can go see if you can find B-Kay. I think you’d better have a talk with her. She was pretty upset.”

  “I can do that.”

  Somewhere in the back of the doublewide, a toilet flushed.

  “Kids are up,” Sweet said.

  “Yep. Need me to get ‘em for you?”

  “You take care of B-Kay. I got the kids.”

  Bubba John stood then. To get to the back door, he’d have to either walk around the long end of the table or squeeze past his wife, who stood at the kitchen sink. Somehow, the long way seemed like the wrong way, like he was somehow walking away from her for good. But he wasn’t sure she’d want him close to her right now. So he stood for a minute, awkward and silent.

  Sweet felt self-conscious, too. What do you do in the moment when trust is the only thing that feels right, but fear and doubt seem the most rational?

  Bubba John stepped close to his wife, pressing his wide chest against her shoulders and bending to rest his head close to hers.

  “I’m sorry,” Bubba John said. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad,” Sweet said. “I’m scared.”

  “Aw, don’t be. Seriously, Sweet…if it helps, I’ll tell you the surprise.”

  “If you told me, would I know the truth?”

  “There is no doubt in my mind.”

  “Then don’t tell me.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel bad, Sweet.”

  “I’m okay, I think. But speaking of feeling bad, I can’t shake this nausea. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment for Tuesday afternoon. Can you make sure the kids get home from school?”

  Bubba John stiffened and froze. “Tuesday?”

  “Yeah, my appointment is at 1 o’clock in Tallahassee.”

  “Tallahassee?”

  “That’s where my gynecologist is. What’s wrong with Tallahassee?”

  “Um, nothing. I just wondered, that’s all.”

  “Bubba John…” Sweet trailed off ominously.

  “Well, dammit Sweet, I have an appointment over there, too. On Tuesday.”

  “At the gynecologist?”

  “No, in Talla… That was just weird, Sweet.”

  “Well, I’m confused.”

  “I know. I’ll change my appointment. It’s no big deal.”

  “Let me guess. It’s part of the surprise.” Sweet said, without an ounce of humor.

  “This is not going to be easy, I gotta tell ya,” Bubba John sighed.

  “I’ll see if Dottie can handle the kids. She’s watching the store for me. Or, wait, will it spoil the surprise if we ride together? It’d sure be easier if B-Kay can take the car to school and pick up Tater and Daisy from daycare.”

  “I think I can work it out,” Bubba John said. “Hey, let’s make a day of it. We can go over early and have lunch. I’ll drop you off at the doctor’s office before my appointment.”

  A rumble erupted in the hallway and Bitty’s voice rose over the din, “Mama, Mama! C’mere quick! Daisy’s done wet the bed and Tater’s got pee in his hair.”

  “Go find B-Kay. I got this,” Sweet said and pushed past Bubba John to get to her babies.

  ***

  Bubba John found his daughter in the treehouse. He didn’t have to look long, just up. B-Kay was asleep, cellphone still in her hand and one leg dangling off the edge of the second level. The three oldest children helped build the treehouse five years before. It started out as one level, but the project was so much fun, they just kept going. Now it was three decks high with a ladder going straight up from the third level to a turret of sorts. It wasn’t all that pretty, but it was strong and sturdy and no one had fallen out of it yet.

  Bubba John made sure to build the steps to hold his weight. He climbed to the first level and stood up, thus putting him face to face with his gently snoring daughter. She was so pretty it took his breath away, just like her mama. He could never quite figure out how he got so lucky.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” Bubba John said, catching the phone which slid from B-Kay’s hands when his voice startled her awake.

  “Daddy! You scared me half to death.”

  “Need t
his?” he asked, holding her phone out of reach.

  “Not funny, Dad.”

  Bubba John placed the phone gently into her outstretched hand.

  “Mama says you’re mad at me.”

  “Can you blame me?” B-Kay sat up and swiped a hand through her hair.

  “Nope. But, I gotta tell you something. It’s a secret and you gotta promise not to tell Mama.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Not kidding.”

  “You’ve lost your mind,” B-Kay said. “Oh, my God…you’ve lost your mind.”

  “B. Seriously. It isn’t what you think.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “Well, duh, of course not. Your mama would kill me if I ever, well, you know... Anyway, I’d be dead and I like being NOT dead too much to do anything stupid.”

  “Somehow that makes perfect sense. So what gives? Why is everybody talking about you and Miss Beanie?”

  “First you have to swear to keep a secret. Biggest secret you ever kept in your life, B. I mean it.”

  “Is it a good secret or a bad secret?” B-Kay wasn’t about to swear to anything bad.

  “Good secret. It’s a surprise.”

  “For Mama?”

  “For all of us, really, but the surprise part is mostly for Mom, yes.”

  “Oh, my God, you’re buying her a new mini-van aren’t you?”

  “Nope, bigger.”

  “A bus?”

  Bubba John laughed then, a full out belly laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” B-Kay felt like laughing, too, but she wasn’t exactly sure why.

  “Oh, Lord, B…a bus?”

  “Well, a bus is the only thing I could think of bigger than a van. I still don’t know what’s so funny, though.”

  “No doubt we could use one, but that’s another surprise for another day.”

  “So what is it then?”

  “You haven’t promised yet,” Bubba John said, still laughing.

  “For crying out loud, Dad, I promise. I pinky swear promise I will not reveal your stupid secret. What is it?”