by Bill Higgs
“Good fish, Virgil.” Cornelius gave the compliment this time. “But, Reverend, you said yourself that the disciples were hardworking folks. Don’t I need to make a living for my family?”
“Yes, I did. There’s nothing wrong with ambition, but sometimes it gets out of hand. And can we agree it has gotten out of hand?”
The Zipco owner looked at the pastor. “I’m just following the Zipco manual. I was always taught to do things by the book.”
“That’s fine, but there’s a more important book to follow.” He pointed at a New Testament in his shirt pocket. “Why don’t you both try using this one instead? Do unto others . . .”
Virgil baited his empty hook, this time with a chubby night crawler. “And how am I supposed to make my living if I don’t—compete?”
Cornelius let out a yell. Something had taken his bait and run with it, bending his rod nearly double.
Virgil reached for the landing net. “Tighten up the drag and play him! I’ll be ready.” Cornelius played the fish as it tried to go under the boat, finally bringing it to the surface flipping and fighting. Virgil slipped the net under the largemouth and brought him aboard.
“Hoo-wee, look at the size of that fish! Must go at least five pounds!” Cornelius freed the creature from the net and held it aloft.
Reverend Caudill chuckled. “Gentlemen, see what happens when you work together? Neither of you would have been able to land that fish alone. That’s what I’m saying. Nobody needs to put anybody out of business. There’s plenty to go around, like when Jesus fed the five thousand. Just do your job well, and stop trying to harm each other. That’s not the way Jesus would do it. Virgil, has something got your night crawler?”
Virgil reared back and set the hook. After much thrashing and commotion, Cornelius was able to get the net underneath, and soon another largemouth was aboard.
“Thanks, Cornelius. It’s a beauty.”
Reverend Caudill watched the exchange as more fish were hauled into the boat. Soon the stringer was full, and he found a second, which was soon also filled. The day was everything he’d hoped it would be. He’d prayed hard for this afternoon, and he’d been rewarded. And the fish were biting like none of them had seen before; surely that was God’s gift and with it his answer.
Soon Virgil and Cornelius were talking about their families, their hobbies, and how hard it was to remove the oil filter on a Plymouth six-cylinder. Common goals, common interests. Virgil’s brother had gone to school with Cornelius’s uncle, the young man’s grandfather had been a very good friend of Mr. H. C. Osgood, and they both liked Patsy Cline and had mourned her recent passing.
And the fish kept coming. When they were finished, they counted ten on two stringers, including the two large largemouth bass, and one that got away. Virgil said it would have gone ten pounds—easy.
They also agreed to end the price war and go back to sensible rates for gasoline: thirty-two cents a gallon for regular and, for Cornelius, thirty-four cents for premium. They would also get together for dinner sometime in the next several weeks, and would all be at the church cookout next Saturday.
Soon the bait and the afternoon were exhausted, and Virgil started the little Mercury motor to head back to the truck. “Reverend, it just occurred to me that you haven’t caught a single fish all afternoon. What do you have on the end of that line anyhow?”
Reverend Caudill held the little spinner lure up for both to see. “Arlie gave it to me to use. Said fish couldn’t resist it.” He laughed. “Besides, I was here today to be a fisher of men, like Jesus said. Looks like I caught a boatload!”
CORNELIUS STEPPED into the trailer to a sleepy wife and wide-awake daughter, his catch on a stringer and a spring in his step. Both were thrilled as he related the events of the afternoon. A truce had been called: no, more like a treaty. He actually liked Virgil T. Osgood, and he had at least a chance of keeping his business.
Early that evening, he called Reverend Caudill, first of all to thank him for the fishing outing, and secondly to make an appointment for him and JoAnn to meet together in the pastor’s office.
It was time.
They stayed up late reading: she the letters, over and over again, and he the Zipco manual. JoAnn smiled and carefully placed the two letters in their respective envelopes for safekeeping. He frowned and threw the Zipco manual in the corner. All three fell happily asleep, filled with hope for the coming days.
Virgil slept late on Monday morning, having been up until eleven o’clock cleaning fish and showing off his largemouth bass to Arlie, who suggested he have it mounted and hung on the wall in his living room. Mavine was none too keen on the idea, arguing instead for her paint-by-number of The Old Mill, which she’d finished in April and Virgil had never got around to framing. He promised to buy her a frame the next time he went to Del’s hardware in town. The fish would just have to go on the wall at the service station.
Vee also slept in, claiming he stayed up reading A Study in Scarlet, which amazed both his parents. Vee had always enjoyed the Hardy Boys and Tom Swift, but his enthusiasm for Sherlock Holmes was especially gratifying to Mavine. Better that than the smuggled Wonder Woman comic he’d gotten from Frank on Sunday and hidden inside his shirt. She’d caught that one.
Mavine had breakfast by herself on Monday morning, the same bacon and eggs as usual, but with a guilty pleasure: a leftover slice of cake that she’d made the night before. It gave her time to think: a quiet house, an empty table.
Thoughts of JoAnn and Cornelius just wouldn’t leave her alone. It had been hard to concentrate on Reverend Caudill’s sermon yesterday, for her eyes were drawn to the young mother and her husband. Mavine had been teary all during church, but Virgil hadn’t noticed. He’d only been concerned about his fishing outing with Reverend Caudill.
Virgil had told her last night about his trip to the lake and how well it had gone. He’d eaten his dinner with enthusiasm, devoured the dessert, and then wandered off to fillet his crappie. First thing today, he was going back to his old gasoline prices. Didn’t seem quite right to her, but he’d said that the Zipco station was raising their rate as well, so she guessed that it would balance out.
But had he noticed her pain and concern? All he could talk about was that fish, that bass. Then again, maybe she was being selfish. Virgil had been under a lot of stress lately, and maybe she’d been the cause of much of it. If so, hopefully he’d forgive her.
Welby had definitely been right. She felt far better about helping JoAnn and little Suzy than about all the things she’d done to help Virgil be successful. Maybe she’d helped too much, pushed too hard.
Mavine found her mind wandering, and her thoughts settled on the blue dress. She washed her hands, walked over to where the garment was hanging, and stroked the fabric with its smooth, velvety texture. She examined the lace collar, mentally measuring. Yes, it would do.
Reverend Caudill was planning to take the day off, but he’d taken some time off around the Fourth of July and his work was backing up, so he was in his office at the church. There just might be a baptism the following Sunday, so he had to make sure the freshly painted baptistery was filling properly. He was meeting with the candidates this afternoon at two o’clock, so he’d need to pick up his other suit at Willett’s before then. Next Sunday’s sermon would be a bit different, so it would take extra preparation time. He also had a letter to return, which couldn’t wait any longer, and . . .
The phone rang.
The voice on the other end was an estate lawyer in Quincy. The reading of Madeline Crutcher’s will would be at one o’clock on Wednesday, and Reverend Caudill needed to be there. Very important, he said.
The pastor sighed. He was hoping to keep Wednesday afternoon free for pastoral visits and to get ready for prayer meeting, but if indeed it was very important, he’d be there.
The attorney gave the address and directions, thanked the clergyman, and hung up.
Well. In addition to everything else, he’d ha
ve to referee the reading of the old woman’s will. Some people never quite had the decency to go away. He reached into the desk drawer for his Goody’s and saw a letter he’d avoided for much too long. He pulled it out and read it again, vowing he’d answer it by the end of the week. But first, the headache powder.
Breakfast was Spam and Tang, as usual, but JoAnn had been awakened early by Suzy and had made cinnamon toast: a special treat. It was a happy morning. Charlie opened the station on Mondays, so Cornelius could come in as late as he pleased.
“JoAnn, we’re raising our prices. This gas war thing has gone on long enough. As soon as I get down there, I’m calling Zipco.”
“No, you’re calling this attorney.” She pointed to the letter. “Neil, there isn’t any more Zipco. We’re on our own now.”
He pondered this. “You’re right. And it’s about time! Let’s do this our own way.”
She smiled and reached out to hold his hands across the table. “Yes, and let’s do it the right way!”
Virgil had breakfast on his own, with Mavine very quiet and doing laundry. “I’m off to work, Mavine. I don’t expect much to be going on today, but Welby’s off until Wednesday, so I need to be there.”
“Fine.”
“Are you okay, Mavine?” If he’d learned anything over the last few months, he’d learned that silence from Mavine was not to be ignored.
“Yes. I just feel like we’ve done a terrible thing to Cornelius and JoAnn, and we need to make it right.”
“I suppose we both did. We were focused on doing right by ourselves, but probably didn’t act too neighborly.”
She sat across from him. “Virgil, I’ve pushed you into being something you’re not. I’ve been selfish, wanting things that you simply couldn’t give me. I feel badly for that, too.”
Virgil reached out to take her hands. Not typical for him, but it seemed to be the right thing for his wife. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be the best husband I can be, and the best father. Don’t ever forget that, and please forgive me if I fail you.”
Mavine rose from her chair, rounded the table, and embraced him. “I forgive you, Virgil. And I’m proud of you.”
Virgil received Mavine’s hug; it was what they both needed. And as they separated, he took her hand and kissed her cheek before stepping through the screen door and ambling down the hill, Ticky right behind. The first order of business was to change the pump price and fix the signs. He was pleased to see that the Zipco station had already changed its prices. A few tweaks with a screwdriver, and it was done. Thirty-one point nine cents per gallon for regular. Same as across the street. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least that part of it was over.
He was also pleased to see that Cornelius had a customer—one he didn’t recognize. At the same time, Arlie stopped in at Osgood’s to fill his truck. It seemed Reverend Caudill had neglected to put gas in the tank when he returned it the day before. Virgil gave him five gallons for free as thanks to both Arlie and the pastor.
“What’d you decide to do with that big bass?”
“I put it in Grover’s meat freezer until I can get it mounted. Probably put it right here behind the cash register. It’ll be a good reminder.”
“Reminder of what?”
“A good afternoon fishing with Cornelius and the preacher. Learned a lot yesterday. Turns out Cornelius is a really fine fellow. Thanks again for loaning us your truck and boat.”
“Anytime. Anytime I’m not haulin’ a hog around, at least. Well, have a fine day!”
“I’ll try, Arlie.”
And he did have a fine day. A number of customers came by in the morning, with several stopping in to chat. Del was in town to see to some final details on the sale of the Crutcher estate and to have lunch at Stacy’s Grocery. Sam Wright drove up in his Farmall to buy gasoline and a can of brake fluid.
Sam stayed for a while, talking nonsense and drinking Virgil’s coffee. “Well, got to go have lunch. Bertha’s making beans and corn bread.”
“Enjoy some for me.” Virgil looked at his watch. It was indeed lunchtime, and he’d not gotten to the muffler on the Nash yet. The parts were supposed to be here Tuesday morning, the man said. He found the Out to Lunch sign and hung it on the front door. He noticed two cars lined up at the Zipco. Somehow, this pleased him.
Cornelius had done something right but wasn’t sure what. He’d had a steady stream of cars and pickups all morning long, including Mr. Willett and his Buick, several folks from the next town over on their way to the county fair, and Grover, who’d brought a bottle of milk for Suzy. Charlie was busy also, mounting a set of tires and minding the pumps.
He himself had spent the morning on the telephone with the attorney who was representing Zipco franchisees. The lawsuit was in progress, and an agreement was being reached even as they spoke. Zipco did not exist anymore, so he’d need to turn off the sign until he found another company. Yes, he could do whatever he wanted with the price of gasoline and with his station. No, he didn’t have to wear the stupid uniform, which still said Zipco on the pocket and the hat. And most importantly, all monies due were deferred for ninety days while it got sorted out. And, by the way, the lawsuit promised a sizable settlement for all former Zipco franchisees including punitive damages, so there was a good chance much of his debt could be erased. Completely.
He was ecstatic. A debt erased! Wasn’t that also the way Reverend Caudill put it on Sunday? Things were definitely looking up.
Mavine was still quiet at lunch, but at least pleasant. She’d spent the morning sewing, she said, and was almost finished.
“What are you making?”
“You know that old dress I wore on the Fourth of July? The blue one?”
“I thought it was new. Didn’t you get that from Willett’s for your birthday dinner?”
“Well, yes, but I just can’t wear it anymore. I’ve cut it up to make a baby blanket for little Suzy. I know, it’s blue and not pink, but it has some touches of lace and it’ll be cute on her. It’s a small thing, but it’s something. I’m praying we haven’t done anything to really hurt them.”
“Mavine, he’s got plenty of business today. And he was saying yesterday that there are some other things happening that will help his business. I think they’ll be all right.”
“I hope so, Virgil.”
He reached out to hold her hands as he’d done at breakfast, and realized that it was just the two of them at the table. “By the way, where’s Vee?”
“I ungrounded him for a couple of hours to go do something with Frank. Probably a bad idea.”
REVEREND CAUDILL hung his freshly cleaned suit on a hook in his office, opened a window, and turned on a fan. Summer had fully arrived in Eden Hill, and the heat and humidity with it. He’d also borrowed two chairs from one of the Sunday school rooms and had them arranged and waiting.
Right at two o’clock, there was a knock. He opened the door to Cornelius and JoAnn, with Suzy sound asleep in Cornelius’s arms.
“Welcome, both of you. Actually, all three of you. Please have a seat.”
“Thank you, Reverend.” Cornelius adjusted himself in one of the chairs, while JoAnn smiled and took the other. Suzy, still sleeping, now lay peacefully in her mother’s lap.
“So, you say it’s time? To move forward?”
“Reverend, I’ve come to realize that I can’t do it on my own. Never could.” He stroked Suzy’s hair. “I’ve made mistake after mistake and one bad decision after another. God’s been there all along, of course, but I’ve never been willing to admit it. To let go.”
JoAnn nodded. “And I’ve been so hard on him. I want to ask for forgiveness, too, both from Neil and from God. Welby’s taught us the Bible in Sunday school, and we understand that Jesus died to cover our sins. And when you preached your sermon on ‘paid in full,’ well, we both understood. Finally.”
The pastor leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “Are you ready to affirm your faith in Christ and be baptized into him?”
The couple looked at each other, and Cornelius spoke. “Yes, we are. More than ready.”
“And you do understand that the Christian life is not a guarantee of success, but a promise that the Lord will be with us through the good times and the bad?”
“We’ve talked about it, and we understand.” Suzy had awakened, and JoAnn had taken her bottle from a bag. “We both now believe that Jesus is Lord.”
“Wonderful! I’m so excited . . .” Suzy coughed, and Reverend Caudill sniffed the air. Something wasn’t right. He could hear shouting outside the window, and the fan was pulling black smoke into the room.
Reverend Caudill bolted out of his seat and ran to the window, pulling the curtains back to see what was happening. At the sight, JoAnn screamed, and both men rushed out. The trailer next door was fully engulfed in flames, its pink aluminum exterior rapidly turning black. Windows were breaking from the heat, and the roof was sagging and buckling. It was all a blur.
Cornelius saw Virgil Osgood dash across the street carrying a fire extinguisher. He called to Charlie and handed him something, then rushed over to the side of the burning trailer. It dawned on Cornelius that while he was watching his home go up in flames, his neighbor had enough presence of mind to shut off the bottled gas and the electricity. And risked his life in the process.
He heard a rumbling noise and looked to see Charlie driving Virgil’s wrecker straight at the trailer. Charlie rammed the disintegrating trailer and pushed it off the blocks away from the propane tanks. True to JoAnn’s fears, it slid down the hill and into the creek.
Cornelius watched the unfolding scene in disbelief. Their home was a total loss, though the service station seemed undamaged. But even if the mobile home was destroyed, he still realized how lucky they were. If this had happened at night, when they were asleep, they could have all been killed. Thankfully nobody was hurt, and the bottled gas tanks hadn’t exploded. At least he could be grateful for that.
