Mama Does Time

by Deborah Sharp

  Mama and I spun on our stools in Gladys’ Diner, listening to the mechanical hum of a plastic cylinder with six shelves of revolving pies. The scent of sizzling hamburgers wafted from the open kitchen behind the counter. More than half of the dozen tables in the restaurant were filled. A harried waitress rushed by. Barrel-sized tumblers of sweet tea crowded her tray, and her forehead glistened with sweat.

  “I’ll be with y’all just as soon as I can,’’ she said.

  “Take your time,’’ Mama said. “We’re in no hurry.’’

  We’d headed to the diner after services at Abundant Hope. Once Emma Jean dropped her bombshell, Delilah hustled her out the door. Pastor Bob immediately took to the pulpit, and signaled the cameraman to start rolling again. Aiming a pious smile at the lens, he acted like there’d been no interruption from an unhinged churchgoer, screaming about adultery and murder.

  With a rich tenor he launched into “Are You Washed in the Blood?” and nodded to the choir to join in. I thought the hymn was a poor choice, given the circumstances.

  I’d jiggled my leg and tapped my fingers through at least half of his long sermon. Mama pinched my arm and promised me pie if I stopped squirming.

  So I did. And here we were, reviewing Emma Jean’s outburst as we waited to be served.

  “Who was that girl in the choir she kept staring at?’’ I asked.

  Mama had her churchgoing hat on the counter, looking for missing pansies. “That’s Debbie,’’ she said. “She’s as sweet as a sugar beet, and she has an adorable boyfriend. He was the one with the long hair, playing guitar on the stage. I can’t imagine Debbie cheating on him with someone like skinny ol’ Jim Albert.’’

  “You never know what some women find attractive.’’ I didn’t add, just look at Sal.

  “More likely, Emma Jean zeroed in because she’s the prettiest girl at Abundant Hope. Being pretty is a curse, Mace.’’ Mama patted her hair, preening like a beauty queen.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.’’

  With a squeak from her rubber-soled shoe, the waitress slid to a stop in front of us. She pulled an order pad from the pocket of a forest-green apron, then licked the dull tip of a pencil. “I’m busier than a horsetail in fly season, Rosalee. Did ya’ll decide?’’

  Charlene, her name tag said. There’d been no Gladys at the restaurant since the namesake died, but the sign stayed as a memorial to the grande dame of Himmarshee dining.

  Mama caressed the pie case like it was a lover. “I know what I want.’’ Her fingers traced the path of a butterscotch slice, rotating inside.

  I ordered a hamburger and coffee. So did Mama. We each wanted pie. As Charlene hustled off, my eyes roamed the diner. It was all fake-wood paneling and country-themed knick-knacks. A butter-churn decorated one corner; a spinning wheel another.

  “Who’s that sitting with Ruth Harris’ grandson?’’ I whispered to Mama, as Charlene returned with our coffees. “They look like refugees from a Metallica concert.’’

  “What’s a Metallica?’’

  “They’re a heavy-metal … never mind. I was just wondering how come he and the girl are dressed like that.’’

  Mama answered in my ear. “Ruth says that’s the fashion among the teenagers these days. Black, black, and more black. Black hair, black fingernails, black clothes.’’ She leaned way back on her stool and gave my own dark ensemble a meaningful look. “They look like they’re going to a mortician convention.’’

  I was gazing into the mirrored wall across the room, trying to convince myself I looked more sophisticated than mournful in black, when I saw Jeb Ennis walk through the door. A Western-style denim shirt covered his broad chest. The snap buttons gleamed like rare pearls. My hand flew to smooth my hair, knocking my coffee cup off the counter and right into my lap.

  “Ouch! Ouch, ouch!’’ I yelped, hopping to my feet. Every head in the diner, including Jeb’s, swung my way.

  Unlike the police station swill, this coffee was nice and hot. I clamped a hand over my mouth as I pictured red blisters bubbling like lava on my thighs.

  “Charlene, fetch my daughter some ice,’’ Mama yelled. “She’s drenched in coffee.’’

  I wondered if it was possible to be any more embarrassed.

  “And hurry, honey. Mace might hurt herself again before you get here.’’

  At least I had my answer about exponential embarrassment.

  I watched in the mirror as Jeb pulled a white handkerchief out of his jeans pocket. He grabbed a glass of ice water off a table and dunked it in.

  “Here you go, Mace.’’ Easing me back onto the stool, he tenderly placed the wet handkerchief over my lap. “That should feel better.’’

  He scooped a handful of ice from the pitcher Charlene held, and rubbed the cubes across the tops of my thighs.

  Now my face felt hotter than the coffee burn.

  I thanked Jeb and swiveled to the watching diners: “I’m fine, everybody,’’ I announced. “That’ll be my last performance of the night. Y’all can go back to eating now.’’

  Laughter lit the flecks of gold in Jeb’s green eyes. “I think the patient’s gonna live.’’ He bowed to the room, to scattered applause.

  He placed his hat over his heart, and said in a lower voice, “Mind if I join you, ladies?’’

  Mama returned his smile with a dimpled grin and an adorable eyelash flutter.

  I could practice in the mirror every day for a year, and never manage that flutter without looking like something was stuck in my eye. But when Mama does it, men swoon.

  “Mace, honey, move over a seat so it’ll be girl, boy, girl.’’

  Ignoring her request, I slid my purse off the empty stool to my left. I patted the green-and-brown-striped plastic, giving him a wide smile. “Yes, do sit down, Jeb.’’ My voice was banana-pudding sweet.

  Mama raised her eyebrows. “Maybe you two young people would like to chat. I’ll just go powder my nose.’’

  As soon as she left, I wiped the smile from my face. “I’ve got a couple of questions for you.’’

  Jeb cocked his head at me. I’d been distracted by shiny shirt buttons and scalding coffee. But I hadn’t forgotten what I’d learned at the Booze ‘n’ Breeze.

  “I had a nice little chat with somebody about your visits to Jim Albert at the drive-thru,’’ I said as he sat down.

  He gave me a puzzled frown. “What are you talking about? Who’d you talk to about me?’’

  “I’m not going to say where I got the information. But it seems you two were a lot better-acquainted than you let on. Why’d you lie to me, Jeb?’’

  His eyes darted to the counter. He lined up a napkin holder shaped like a horseshoe. He straightened a place mat with a red star for our little town above Lake Okeechobee on the map of Florida. Picking up a fork, he stared at it like the words he wanted might be written there.

  “I didn’t lie, Mace.’’ He finally looked into my eyes. “I just left some things out. I hadn’t seen you in years, and you ask me out of the blue did I know a man who’d just been murdered. I did know him. But I really didn’t want to get into how, especially standing in a parking lot with your sister firing dirty looks my way.’’

  “You could have said something, Jeb.’’

  He pointed the fork at me. “To get right down to it, I didn’t think it was your damned business, Mace.’’

  I batted his hand away, getting angry now. “Not my business?’’

  A trucker at the end of the counter glanced at us over the top of his menu. I lowered my voice. “I suppose you didn’t know the cops believed my mother killed Jim Albert. I suppose the news of her being jailed never reached that ranch of yours.’’

  Surprise flickered across his face. It looked genuine.

  “Maddie and I were trying to find out who
else might have had a reason to murder him. Then I hear how the two of you had a big fight.’’

  Jeb clenched his jaw hard. “Did you tell anybody else about that?’’

  “Not yet. I wanted to give you the chance to explain first.’’

  My mind flashed back more than a decade, to the night I’d caught Jeb with another girl at a popular lookout over the lake. I’d given him the chance to explain then, too. I should have cracked his truck’s windshield with Emma Jean’s tire iron instead.

  “I’m gonna tell you the truth, Mace. I borrowed some money from Albert. The man was bleeding me dry. We argued, yes. But I swear to you, I never laid a hand on him.’’

  “I heard different.’’

  “And I’m saying I never hurt the man.’’ His warm hazel eyes went cold. “I don’t know where you got that. Did that girl behind the counter tell you something?’’

  “No,’’ I lied.

  “Well, whoever it was is wrong. And why would you believe them over me? We’ve known each other since we were kids, Mace.’’

  I thought about that long-ago night at Lake Okeechobee. Jeb had rushed after me, telling me I’d misunderstood everything. The girl meant nothing. It was the first time he’d even kissed her. It was a mistake. He begged me to forgive him.

  I did, and found out later he’d been seeing her on the side for five weeks.

  “Mace?’’ he said again, jarring me back to the present.

  I took my time before answering, looking around the restaurant. Mama had taken a seat with Ruth Harris’ grandson. She and the girlfriend-in-black were sharing a slice of butterscotch pie.

  In a quiet voice, I said, “You don’t have the best track record with me for being truthful.’’

  Jeb picked his hat up and stood. “All you can see in me is that stupid twenty-something kid, cheating on you with another girl. I was a scoundrel, Mace. I’m sorry I broke your heart; but that was a long time ago. I’ve grown up. I’ve changed.’’

  He placed the hat on his head, and tapped the brim as he looked at me in the mirror. “My regards to your mama. I think I’ll skip dinner tonight. It seems I’ve lost my appetite.’’

  He started to walk away, then turned to whisper in my ear. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t go around spreading lies about me and Jim Albert.’’

  “What?’’ I whispered back. “Like you owed him money and now he’s conveniently dead? That’s not a lie, Jeb. That’s a fact.’’

  He straightened, staring at me for a long moment. His eyes looked just the same as the night I’d accused him of cheating. Hurt. Bewildered. Angry that I could believe something so awful about him.

  I couldn’t help but remember how convincing Jeb had seemed back then. And all the while, he’d been lying like a tobacco company bigwig testifying to Congress.

  “What in the name of Mike was all that about?’’ Mama slid her coffee cup back onto the counter and climbed up on the stool in front of the hamburgers Charlene had finally delivered.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.’’ I stared straight ahead at the stainless steel wheel above the kitchen. So many white order slips were clipped up there, it looked like laundry day for a race of tiny people.

  Mama reached over to straighten my bangs. “Well, I’m not surprised. You seem just about talked out after that scene with Jeb. What were you two whispering about, Mace? I could hear you all the way over to the table with Ruth’s grandson. The way you were hissing, it sounded like somebody stepped into a mess of snakes.’’

  There was a snake, all right; and its name was Jeb Ennis.

  “Mama, did you know Jim Albert loaned money to people?’’

  “I didn’t know too much about him, Mace. But what I had heard, I didn’t like. Truth is, this whole marriage came up awfully fast. I don’t believe they dated for more than a few months. And I always thought Emma Jean could do better. I think she sensed I disapproved of Jim, because we didn’t talk much about him.’’

  I took a bite from my burger and watched the order slips flutter in the breeze from an air conditioning vent. I was thinking about how Jeb was linked to Jim Albert, who in turn was linked to Emma Jean. And then there was Mama’s boyfriend, Sal, and his ties to everything. The whole mess was looking exactly like that nest of snakes Mama mentioned.

  “Honey.’’ Mama tapped my shoulder. “Your purse is ringing.’’

  I fumbled in my purse for my phone, past some packages of beef jerky and a jar of peanut butter, which I use to bait animal traps. By the time I found it, it’d quit ringing. I’ve got to get Maddie to sew me one of those little cell phone cases.

  I went to the phone’s log and called back the last number that called me.

  “Where are you two?’’ Maddie said. “Marty’s waiting for y’all. Mama left her things from the jail in the car this morning. Marty decided to run them by on her way home from her meeting at the library. You know that promotion she got? She’s running the whole show now.” My hamburger and fries awaited, salt crystals sparkling like diamonds on hot grease. I longed to take a bite, but I knew Maddie would yell at me for talking with my mouth full.

  “How was church?’’ she asked.

  “Just about like usual,’’ I lied. “We’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.’’

  “I should have been there, too. But I couldn’t move a muscle after Kenny went and got us barbecue from the Pork Pit for supper. I ate so much, all I could do was unzip the waist of my slacks and lie there on my couch like a big, fat hog.’’

  I got an image of my normally proper sister stretched out with her undies exposed, and smiled for the first time since Jeb sat down.

  “Thanks, Maddie. I needed that. Listen, we’ll finish here and head over to Mama’s in about a half hour. Can you tell Marty? Tell her I want to hear all about the promotion.’’

  “Will do,’’ Maddie said. “She already opened a bottle of Mama’s white zinfandel and she’s watching Cops on TV. It’s a good one, too, Mace. They caught this guy who got stuck in a hole he made in the ceiling when he was trying to burglarize a store. So far, I haven’t seen any of your old beaus.’’

  Once, while watching the show, we’d spotted a boy I ran with during my wild period. Drunk and shirtless, he was being hauled out of a trailer on a drug charge. Maddie, of course, had never let me forget it.

  After I rang off, Mama and I polished off our burgers, split the check, and headed home.

  ___

  Teensy was running in circles and yapping at Mama’s front door. We could see Marty through the sheer curtain at the window, trying to navigate around the dog to let us in.

  “Teensy, hush!’’ Mama shouted, which just pushed the Pomeranian over the top. He hurled himself at the door, intent upon breaking through the wood frame and hurricane-resistant glass to reunite with his mistress.

  Marty finally got an ankle in between the dog’s chest and the door and pushed the little ball of fluff out of the way. She had one foot off the floor, a glass of wine in her hand, and the other arm wrapped around Mama in a welcoming hug. Marty was so graceful, she could pull that off. If I tried it, I’d be out flat on Mama’s hallway rug, covered in sweet wine and dog fur.

  “Ooooooh, is this Mama’s little boy? Is this her itty-bitty boy?’’

  Teensy launched himself straight up and levitated, like a Harrier fighter jet. She caught the dog in his skyward orbit, planting a big kiss on his head.

  “Have you girls ever seen a more adorable little angel than this one?’’ She waved one of Teensy’s paws at us.

  Marty and I exchanged a look. All that Teensy lacked was a bonnet and a bassinet.

  We escaped to the kitchen, entering a veritable barnyard of gingham. Mama had a thing for cute animals in country checks: Her cookie jar was a pig in a gingham cap. Her canisters pictured ducks in gingha
m ribbons. Bunnies frolicked in gingham bowties along a wall border.

  Marty hiked up her knee-length, linen skirt and climbed onto a step stool. She removed a wine goblet from the shelf, and poured me half a glass. I motioned her to keep going. We could still hear Mama murmuring sweet nothings to the dog in the living room. Teensy’s frantic barking had mellowed to an annoying whimper.

  “God forbid anything should ever happen to that creature,’’ I said, lifting the pig’s gingham hat to help myself to two macaroons.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, Mace, don’t even think about it. She loves that dog beyond description.’’

  “How was Cops?’’

  “Funny, but sad. As usual. Where on earth do they find those people?’’

  Unlike Maddie, Marty was too nice to mention my intimate knowledge of someone who’d had a starring role

  “I saw Jeb Ennis again tonight.’’

  Marty’s face lit up and she sat down at the table, ready for a good story.

  “It didn’t go well.’’

  I leaned against the counter and filled her in on what I’d learned about Jeb’s ties to Jim Albert. I told her how he’d tried to cover up their big fight.

  “I need to find out how much he owed him, Marty. Money is an excellent motive for murder.’’

  “You can’t suspect Jeb, Mace.’’ Marty shook her head, blonde hair shimmering in the wagon-wheel light hanging over Mama’s table. “You dated the man.’’

  “Yeah, Jeb and that handcuffed suspect on TV. My taste in men seems a little iffy.’’

  “What would his motive be for putting the body in Mama’s car, Mace?’’

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t figured that out yet.’’ I topped off my wine glass, and grabbed a third macaroon. “But Jeb’s not the only one who seems suspicious, Marty.’’

  I told her about Emma Jean’s scene at the church, and her threat of committing violence.

  “Emma Jean said that bad word, right there at Abundant Hope?’’ Marty spoke around the hand she’d clapped over her mouth. “Maybe I was wrong about her being so nice.’’