by Amy Metz
“True love cannot be denied.” Caledonia pulled Martha Maye to the door.
“Wait a minute!” Martha Maye stopped walking. “I need to go put some lipstick on and powder my nose.”
Caledonia studied her. “Oh, all right. But you best not take too long. We don’t want to miss him.”
“And put some color on your cheeks too,” Louetta hollered at her daughter’s back.
Two minutes later, the two women were casually, but with purpose, walking toward the police station. “What are we gonna do, Callie? We can’t just stand around outside. We’ll look like a pair of streetwalkers.”
“I’ve got that all worked out.” Caledonia looped her arm through Martha Maye’s. “I got a parking ticket last week, and we’re going in to pay it. You just happen to be with me, that’s all. Perfectly innocent.”
“But I won’t know what to say to him. And I really shouldn’t be making goo-goo eyes at a man until the divorce is final.”
“It won’t hurt to see and be seen.” They stopped in front of Miss Penny’s Dress Shop and looked in the window. Caledonia looked at Martha Maye through the window’s reflection. “If we time it right, we’ll be there when the meeting breaks up.” She looked at her watch. “Bernadette told me the interview was starting at one o’clock. We figured about forty-five minutes ought to do it.” Caledonia saw Penny inside looking at them, so they began walking again.
“That woman talks so much, I’ll bet her tongue is sunburned.”
“Who? Penny?”
Caledonia nodded.
“Weren’t y’all schoolmates?”
Caledonia shot Martha Maye a look. “Yes, but she’s two years older than me, thank you very much.”
“And isn’t she on your PTA board?”
“Unfortunately, she is. I think she’s made it her mission to make my life miserable. But, hey, speaking of school, I heard you’ve got some good news.”
Martha Maye looked surprised. “You mean about the job? They just offered it to me yesterday. How on earth did you hear so quick?”
Caledonia had a smug look on her face. “I’m PTA president. I find out all sorts of things by hanging around over at that school. You’re gonna like teaching first graders. I’m so excited you’re gonna be there.”
“I’m getting pretty excited too.” Martha Maye hugged her friend’s arm.
“It’s all coming together for you, girl, and I couldn’t be happier for you.”
“Next order of business is to find a place for Butterbean and me to live. I’d like to rent a small house. You know of anything like that for rent right now?”
Caledonia shook her head. “No, next order of business is to remind Mr. Johnny Butterfield that the lovely Martha Maye Applewhite lives in this town.”
They were almost to the police station. Martha Maye tightened her grip on her friend’s arm. “Oh, Caledonia, I don’t know how I let you talk me into this.”
“Twue wuv . . . ” Caledonia mimicked the line from The Princess Bride and Martha Maye nudged her with her shoulder. Caledonia dabbed her lips with a little lipstick as they turned onto the sidewalk leading to the front door of the police station.
“Well, if it’s true love, it shouldn’t need any help. I think we should just turn around and — ”
“Too late. Look who’s coming outta that door.” Caledonia nodded her head at the front door.
And suddenly, there he was, looking better than any man had a right to. His blue suit and red tie took Martha Maye’s breath away. He spoke first as he neared them.
“Martha Maye, is that you?”
“Johnny!” She stammered and then said, “I mean, I mean, Trooper Butterfield — ”
“Nope, you had it right the first time. Johnny will do fine. Besides, I’m hoping it won’t be Trooper Butterfield much longer.”
Caledonia was enjoying watching the exchange between the two. Both of their faces had colored upon first sight of each other. She could tell Martha Maye’s mouth was dry as a cotton field, and she noticed Johnny wiping his hands on the sides of his trousers. Neither one could take their eyes off the other.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“I was just in there interviewing for the position of police chief.”
Martha Maye looked like she’d just swallowed a bug, but Caledonia saved the day.
“Congratulations, Johnny, that’s great news. Isn’t that great news, Martha Maye?”
She looked at Caledonia as if she was just now remembering she was there. “Yes. Yes, it certainly is. I swan, where are my manners? Caledonia Culpepper, this is Troo — ” she quickly corrected herself “– Johnny Butterfield, future GPJPD chief.” She flashed a confident smile.
Johnny held up a hand. “No congratulations just yet. I don’t quite have the job. Just call me Johnny.” He stuck out his hand.
“And I’m very pleased to meet you, future Chief Butterfield.” Caledonia shook his hand vigorously, and her suspicions of his nervousness were proven. She felt like she needed a hanky to wipe the moisture off her hand, but she kept her impeccable manners and her smile in place.
“Johnny, this is Pickle’s mama. You remember Pickle?”
“I sure do. I’m mighty proud of that boy and his quick thinking. I told him he ought to consider a career in law enforcement.”
“You did?” Her jaw went slack.
“I did.”
“Well. Trying to train him in the ways of the law might be like teaching a rock to swim, bless his heart.”
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s got natural instincts. The rest he can learn.” There was an awkward silence that Johnny finally broke. “So . . . what brings y’all to the police station?”
“I’m a law breaker, and I’m here to pay my debt.” Caledonia worked hard to make her face blank.
“You’re going to jail?” Johnny looked incredulous.
“No, no. Nothing like that.” She waved her hands in the air. “I’m just paying some parking tickets, and Martha Maye came along to keep me company.”
“I sure am glad she did.” Johnny beamed at Martha Maye, who picked at some lint on her sleeve.
After another awkward silence, Johnny said, “Y’all wouldn’t know of any little houses for rent, would you?”
“I was just asking Caledonia the same thing, Johnny. Butterbean and I are looking too. I think it’s time we went out on our own.”
“You’re looking at the newest teacher of the Robert E. Lee Elementary School.” Caledonia proudly patted her friend on the arm.
“Congratulations, Martha Maye. That’s wonderful news. What grade will you be teaching?”
A man and a woman started up the sidewalk toward the police station and Johnny, Caledonia, and Martha Maye stepped apart to allow them through.
“Hey, Pete. Hey, Tallulah. Hire y’all?” Martha Maye introduced them to Johnny and Caledonia and then asked, “What brings y’all to the police station?”
Pete’s wide grin covered his face as he looked at Tallulah. “Not the police station. We’re going to the courthouse to get a marriage license.”
That brought squeals from the women, and Johnny shook hands with Pete.
“Congratulations, y’all. Bless your hearts,” Martha Maye said.
“Thank you.” Pete nodded to the ladies. “We believe we’ve made . . . how do you say it? A right good choice.”
“I expect you have.” Martha Maye kissed Pete on the cheek, causing his face to turn bright red.
With a wave, Pete and Talullah walked toward city hall, hand in hand.
Martha Maye turned toward Johnny. “Are you coming to Apple Day?”
“If I’m still a state trooper, I’ll be working it. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
“May be.” She put special emphasis on “be,” smiled, and held his gaze for a moment before turning toward the police station with Caledonia. Martha Maye turned around and called out, “I just know you’ll get the job. And you’ll be great.”
“From your lips to G
od’s ears,” Johnny called back.
Eating brains don’t make you a scientist.
~Clive Pierce
A week later, Johnny was back for his third interview with the councilmen and the mayor. They explained that they liked him for the job but some still had reservations about his age. They were fifteen minutes into the interview when Bernadette stuck her head in the door.
“Mayor, we got us a situation. Vernice Anderson up in Gnaw Bone reported seeing that fool, old man Shaw, brandishing a firearm.”
“Let me guess. She said he’s armed and dangerous?” Mayor Lyons said with a grin, eliciting snickers from the others.
Bernadette was all business. “Yeah, kinda. Turns out he has a record. He’s been in the big house for assault and battery.” She propped her hand on her hip. “You know, some folks just plain don’t have the sense of an animal cracker. Why, I — ”
“Bernadette!”
She nearly jumped to attention.
“What’s the situation?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I sent Hank up there along with Northington, but I haven’t heard pea turkey squat from either one. I called Vernice back, and she said there’s been shots fired.”
Buck looked at Johnny. His eyebrows rose up over his eyeglasses. “What would you do if you were police chief?”
“I reckon I’d go out there myself.”
“Then get. We’ll call it on the job interviewing. I’ll go with you and watch from the cruiser.”
The councilmen kept their seats. Clive propped his feet up on the table and reared back in his chair. “Y’all let us know if we can do anything.”
Johnny tore up Gnaw Bone Road in his state trooper vehicle, gravel spitting in his wake. Buck held on for dear life in the passenger seat. They’d brought Officer Skeeter Duke with them, but he seemed unconcerned in the back seat.
“Good Lord, boy. Where’d you learn to drive?” Buck asked.
“State training, sir.”
“I gotta hand it to them. They trained you well. You’re fast, but you’re good.” In a smaller voice, he added, “I hope.”
“Don’t you worry, Mayor. I’ll get us there in one piece.” Johnny gripped the steering wheel, never taking his eyes off the road.
Buck laughed nervously. “I’m alternating between chewing buttonholes and having the time of my life.”
“This is almost as good as a high-speed pursuit.” Skeeter clapped Johnny on the shoulder.
The car radio squawked. “Trooper Butterfield, we got a call from the Goose Pimple Junction dispatcher, asking us to relay a message to you.”
“Go ahead.”
“The situation you’re en route to has escalated. Apparently, Officer Hank Beanblossom approached the subject to take the gun away from him, and now there’s a hostage situation. The whole force is at the scene.”
“Roger that.” Johnny was quiet for a moment. Then he asked Buck, “Is there a way around the back of the property? Some way we can get in without being seen?”
“Sure. Take a left up here at the four-way. And then another left.”
Johnny followed his instructions.
“Now ease up on the gas. The road will sneak up on you. ” They slowed to 15 mph. When they reached a narrow gravel lane, Buck pointed. “Here. Go up this road. It’ll take us to the Everly’s place. They’re backdoor neighbors to old man Shaw. His farm long ago gave way to a subdivision. They’re the closest to him from the back.”
Johnny, Skeeter, and Buck snuck through a cornfield and came upon the back of the Shaw house. The trooper eased past an old tractor, peeked around the corner of the house, and saw four GPJ police cruisers, all with their lights blaring. All the officers were behind their cruisers, their guns aimed at the house. Then a nasally voice boomed out, “Y’all just go on about your business, and I’ll let this officer go. I don’t want to cause nobody any harm, but I’ll do it if it means protecting what’s mine. Now y’all get.”
“That’s old man Shaw,” Skeeter whispered, and Buck nodded in agreement.
Johnny hitched his head toward the back of the house, turned, and headed back the way they’d come. When they reached the back porch, he turned to Skeeter. “I need you to create a diversion. Anything within reason and that won’t get anyone killed. Do it in – ” he looked at his watch “ – two minutes and thirty-five seconds, starting . . .” Both men looked at their watches. “ . . . now.”
Skeeter hightailed it around to the other side of the house.
Johnny turned to Buck. “You, stay right here.”
“Hold it! Where are you going?”
“Inside to stop all this foolishness.” Johnny quietly turned the knob on the door and gently eased it open. A kitchen floorboard squeaked, and a cat darted out of the room as Johnny stepped inside. He made his way through the house to the front room where he parted lace curtains – once white, but now a grimy gray – with his hand in order to peek out the window at the scene.
The scraggly yard was littered with a few squirrel carcasses, and Allen Ray Shaw stood on his front porch behind Officer Beanblossom. He had the officer’s arm jerked behind him and was holding it with one hand and a pistol to Hank’s head with his other hand. A revolver – Johnny guessed it belonged to Hank – lay a few feet from the men. Johnny checked his watch and removed his revolver, taking it off safety.
“You got a license for that thing?” A voice boomed out from behind one of the cruisers.
“Sure I do. And don’t be thinking you’re gonna take my gun away from me. I got rights. It’s in the fifth amendment.”
“I think that’s the second amendment, sir. And you’re in a residential development. It is illegal to discharge a firearm in a residential area. Not to mention the illegality of holding a man at gunpoint.”
“Ain’t you a dandy, with your highfalutin words.”
“Sir, we need you to surrender your weapon and let Officer Beanblossom go.”
“I’m on my property. I got a right to bear arms. And I got a license. I ain’t surrendering nothing. And I’m gonna kill me an officer in about thirty seconds if y’all don’t leave me the hell alone.”
Johnny glanced at his watch again. He stood to the side of the open front door with just a screen door between him and the subject. Then he heard the roar of a tractor and saw Shaw’s head whip around toward the sound. The trooper slipped outside and in two quick steps came up behind Allen Ray Shaw. He put his gun to Shaw’s temple and said, “If you don’t, I won’t.”
The old man handed over his weapon. Hank muttered, “Praise be to God” as he rubbed his arm.
Buck came on the front porch as Johnny handcuffed the old man. He looked the trooper straight in the eye and said, “You’re hired.”
A faint heart never won a fair lady or stole a watermelon.
~Jack Wright
“Darlin’, it smells so good in here, I can’t keep my nose from twitching.” Jack and his Basset hound, Ezmeralda, walked into Tess’s kitchen, both with chins raised and noses sniffing the air. Jack stopped in the middle of the kitchen and turned in a full circle, taking in the apple pies that sat on every inch of surface in the room. “I didn’t know they were holding the Apple Day Apple Pie Bakeoff right here in your kitchen.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. You’ve just entered Tess’s test kitchen.”
“Woman, just how many pies are you planning on entering?”
“Mister, are you listening? These are just test pies. I want to make sure I’m entering the best kind.” She pulled a Dutch apple pie out of the oven, closed the door with her foot, and set the pie on a hot pad near the stove. “I know I’m up against heavy competition.”
“If this is a test kitchen, then you are in need of a tester.” Jack smiled broadly. “And I do know a thing or two about apple pies.”
“I’ll just bet you do.” She gave a mock show of looking him over. “Okay, I guess you’ll do.”
“Man alive, I’ve n
ever seen so many pies, short of up at Slick & Junebug’s. Ezzie, where shall we start?”
“Jack, I love that dog, but you’re not feeding my pies to her.” Tess shook a pie server at him.
“Oh, she won’t eat much,” he said absentmindedly, looking over the choices. He leaned toward the pies. “What have we got here?”
“Dutch apple, apple crisp, apple caramel,” Tess pointed to each as she named them off, “apple lattice top, apple crumb, upside-down apple pie with walnuts, two crust apple, deep dish apple, and an apple tart.”
“Well that one’s out right off the bat,” he said, pointing to the tart. “It’s a pie contest, not a tart contest.”
“Just sit yourself down and start eating.” Tess pretended to scold him. “I need your taste buds, not your sass.”
“It won’t matter which one I like best.” Jack took a bite of the apple crumb pie. “Because mine’s going to be the grand prize winner. Mmmm . . . dang, this is good.”
Tess put her hands on her hips, and she looked incredulous. “You’re entering a pie in the contest?”
“Why’s that so hard to believe? Men can bake too.”
“What kind are you entering?”
“I’ll let you know once I’ve sampled all of these,” he said, his eyes dancing at her.
The sun rose bright and clear the September morning of Apple Day. They had decided Tess should enter her caramel apple pie — a double crust pie with caramel icing on top. Jack said it was so good he couldn’t keep his feet still and admitted it might even be a contender against his Dutch apple.
“They said to take the pies to the pie tent. It’s over here.” Jack led the way through the crowd of people. Main Street was busy with vendors and shoppers filling the street. Barbecue, fried chicken, and fish sandwich booths sat alongside fried apple pie and arts & crafts booths. Big iron vats full of simmering apple butter dotted the street, and men in overalls used six-foot-long wooden paddles to stir the thick deliciousness over an open fire. The air smelled of grease and cinnamon.
