Biloxi Brides (Sugar and Grits)

by Martha Rogers

  They didn’t have to.

  And now, just one week away from the Fall Festival, Sassy felt a longing to be with him more than ever. She felt it as she crossed over the Biloxi Bridge each morning and saw the local fishermen cast their lines out into the water. She felt it as she waved to vendors selling their fresh fruits and vegetables along the side of Amberjack Avenue. She felt every time she turned the key in the newly repaired lock at the Bait and Tackle.

  Even the weekly chore of meeting with her friends to work on crafts didn’t bother Sassy much anymore, as long as her thoughts remained on Wendell. Their Bible Study on submission had turned out to be quite different than anticipated, and she found herself intrigued by what the scriptures really had to say on the subject. Turns out, women weren’t the only ones called to submit themselves. The Bible was clear that all believers were to submit to one another in love.

  As Sassy drove to the Catfish House the third Sunday night in October, she hummed all the way, unable to wipe the smile from her face. “Thank You for the changes in my life and my attitude. Thank You, that, in spite of everything, I haven’t lost my love for fishing.” After all these years, Sassy had to finally admit the truth. She loved to fish, angry or not. In fact, quiet hours with a pole in her hand had become even more enjoyable with Wendell at her side.

  Her joy remained as she made her way inside, where the other ladies finished up craft items for the festival. “Sassy?” Leota looked at her, eyes narrowed. “You’re mighty happy tonight. What’s up?”

  “What makes you think something’s up?” She couldn’t help but grin as she placed a large bag of supplies on the table.

  “Mighty suspicious, that’s all.” Dottie Jean waggled her index finger in Sassy’s direction. “That look on your face.”

  Sassy shrugged, feeling the same silly grin turn her lips upward. She fought against it.

  “So tell us, Sassy. How are you…really?” Sue Ellen pulled pieces of orange poster board from the bag and placing them on the table.

  “Fine, fine. If things get any better, I’ll have to hire someone to help me enjoy it.”

  “Very curious.” Dottie Jean pointed a pair of scissors at her. “But I’m going to get to the bottom of this if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “It’s Wendell, isn’t it?” Leota asked. “You and Wendell are…”

  “What we are—or aren’t—is nobody’s business. Now, could we talk about something else, please?”

  “To be honest, I’m getting a little tired of all this talk about men, anyway,” Sue Ellen mumbled. “There’s got to be something else worth discussing.”

  “Whatever you say.” Dottie Jean turned back to her work. “We could talk about my wedding, if you like. Fletcher and I have settled on a date. Saturday, December 17. You’re all invited.”

  “No!” Leota said nearly dropped an armload of baskets.

  “What honey?”

  “That’s the same date Beauregard and I have chosen. We’re getting married right here in Calista at the church.”

  Dottie Jean sat, looking dejected. “Have you rented it yet?”

  “Nope. We were gonna do it tomorrow.” Leota looked up at her, fine lines appearing around her eyes.

  “So were we.”

  “Looks like we’ll just have to put the two of you into the ring and let you fight it out,” Sassy said with a grin. “Let the best man—uh, woman—win.”

  “That’s not funny, Sassy,” Leota said with a pout. “This is serious.”

  “It’s awful, is what it is,” Dottie Jean agreed.

  “I’m sure you’ll work something out.” Sassy attempted to change the conversation. “Say, did any of you hear about that new department store out on Hwy. 19?”

  “Looks like we won’t have to drive all the way to Biloxi to shop for clothes anymore,” Sue Ellen chimed in.

  “I feel bad for Debbie Peterson.” Sassy commented, trying to draw the others into the conversation. “She opened her dress shop here in Calista less than a year ago, and already she might have to shut down. Seems like it’s happening to so many.”

  “Our small town shops are quaint, but they sure don’t stay long enough,” Sue Ellen noted. “Just since I’ve been back the barbershop and the dry cleaners have gone under. What’s next?”

  “I heard a rumor.” Dottie Jean shook her head. “Fanny’s thinking of taking over the bakery.”

  “No!” Leota looked stunned.

  Sue Ellen shook her head in disbelief. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Honestly,” Sassy muttered, “that woman’s getting just a little too big for her britches.”

  ***

  Wendell drove by the Catfish House and saw the light on inside. Through the window he could see Sassy and the others in their usual Sunday night meeting. I wonder what they do in there. He drove on past the parking lot, fighting the urge to pull in.

  “You need to tell Sassy how you feel about her.” He spoke to no one but himself, of course. Wendell slowed his car down as he reached Catfish Crossing, which ran alongside the diner. “The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be. Just go in there and tell her you’d like to talk with her outside. That’s not so difficult.” Turning left, he pulled his car to a stop next to the curb. His hands began to tremble as he turned the engine off.

  “There’s no turning back now,” he whispered, trying to assure himself. Stepping from the car, he glanced across the dark parking lot toward the light inside. He slowly made his way toward the front door, stopping just a few yards short of it.

  What will I say? I have to get this right.

  He paced back and forth in front of the diner, a chill settling over him as he moved under the blanket of the evening’s shadows. For what seemed like an eternity he walked in circles and tried to formulate just the right words. He mumbled aloud, phrasing and re-phrasing, using his hands to emphasize each statement. “You sound like a crazy man,” he muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets. He moved towards the door, then back away again. “Come on, old man.” He turned one final time to face the door, completely lost in his thoughts.

  He raised his hand, reaching for the front door as a booming voice rang out: “Put your hands up in the air and turn around. Slowly.”

  Wendell’s hands immediately shot up in the air. They began to tremble as fear set in. He turned in the direction of the familiar voice, calming when he saw his friend. “Bud?”

  “Wendell? Is that you?” The deputy pulled out his powerful flashlight, shining it in his face. “For the love of Pete! Dottie Jean thought she had a burglar out here.”

  “A burglar?” Wendell’s hands fell to his side in disbelief.

  “She and the other ladies called the station about five minutes ago. Said they saw a prowler out in the parking lot milling around, even making his way toward the front door. Scared them half to death.”

  “Oh good grief.” Wendell gripped his forehead with his hand, overcome with confusion. Everything he had hoped to say suddenly slipped from his mind.

  At that moment, the front door swung open, and all of the ladies emerged, jabbering at once. Wendell squinted to make them out in the shadows.

  “Bud, thank God you’re here!” Dottie Jean squealed.

  Sue Ellen gripped Leota’s arm. “We were so scared.”

  Leota sounded a little more confident. “Did you get ‘em?”

  “Let us at him. We’ll take care of him!” Sassy’s words rang out above the others.

  Wendell’s heart twisted inside him at the sound of her voice.

  “Yeah. I caught the monster,” Bud said and then chuckled. He turned his light on Wendell once again and the ladies broke into laughter.

  “Wendell?” Dottie Jean stared at him. “What in tarnation were you doing out here? Why didn’t you just come on in?”

  “I, uh…”

  “Where’s your car?” Leota asked, looking across the parking lot.

  He pointed lamely toward Catfish Crossing.

&
nbsp; “Why’d you park all the way over there, anyway?” Bud asked. “Something wrong with the car?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, is something wrong with you then?” Leota asked, approaching him.

  “Nope.”

  “Do you need to use the telephone?” Dottie Jean asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, you must have needed something, Wendell.”

  He stared at Sassy, trying to express himself with his eyes. She gazed back at him, her silence speaking volumes. “I, uh… I…” Come on, man! “I need to get on home now. It’s getting late.”

  He began to move in the direction of his car, shaking like a leaf. Just as he reached the door, he felt someone touch his arm. He turned, facing Sassy.

  “You came to talk to me, didn’t you?” she whispered.

  He nodded lamely. “Yes.”

  “What did you want to say, Wendell?”

  His heart began to race, pounding so loudly in his ears, he could hardly hear himself think. He reached for her hand, squeezing it. “Sassy, I need to tell you something.”

  “Go on.”

  “I need to tell you that I….” His palms suddenly felt sweaty.

  “Be careful driving home, Wendell!” Bud’s voice rang out from across the parking lot. Wendell squinted as the flashlight hit him in the face once again. He dropped Sassy’s hand immediately.

  “You what, Wendell?” Sassy looked at him nervously.

  “I, uh… I need to borrow your popcorn machine for the festival next week.”

  “What?”

  His mind began to race, trying to come up with a workable story. “I need to borrow that old popcorn machine you used to keep at the shop when the kids were small. Do you still have it? I want to make popcorn balls for the kids at the festival this year.”

  “Well, yes. It’s packed away in the storage room somewhere, but you’re welcome to it, of course.” She suddenly looked hurt.

  “That’s fine, fine,” he stammered. She turned back toward the diner. He reached out to grab her hand one last time. “Oh, and Sassy…”

  “Yes, Wendell?” She released his hold on her hand, clearly still frustrated with him.

  “Sassy, I love you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sassy made her way across the small cemetery to the now-familiar place on the southeast corner. It had become her custom to visit this spot every October 27 – her wedding anniversary.

  Sassy carried daisies, another tradition, which dated back to her first date with Joe Hatchett. He had arrived at her home, nervously clutching a fistful of fresh daisies, picked from his mother’s garden. From that day on, they had remained her favorite. And now, as she had so many times before, Sassy found herself face to face with the memory of the man who had filled her life with joy for thirty-five years.

  His gravesite was a mess. She reached down to pull weeds from around his tombstone and laid the flowers at her feet. She wiped the dirt from her hands, then ran her finger across the familiar words on the tombstone. JOE HATCHETT, A MAN AFTER GOD’S OWN HEART.

  I love you, Sassy.

  The words she heard now were Wendell’s. They had startled her down to the core of her being. She hadn’t responded. In fact, when Wendell had appeared at her door on Tuesday afternoon to pick up the popcorn machine, she had treated him as if it had never happened at all.

  How would Joe feel about this?

  Sassy’s heart began to pound in her ears, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “Am I betraying him, Lord? Wendell Meeks is a good man, but there will never be a man like Joe Hatchett.”

  Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she reached down to plant the daisies.

  ***

  Wendell loaded the backseat of his car with goodies for the festival. “Cake, pie, card table and four chairs. I’m forgetting something. What is it?”

  Gus pulled up and spoke through his open window. “Need any help?”

  Ah! I remember now. “I was just trying to figure out how to get this popcorn machine in the car. Think you’ve got room to carry it over in the back of your truck?”

  “Sure, sure.” Gus hopped out and walked around to the front off the vehicle. Between the two of them, they maneuvered the large, bulky contraption into the bed of the truck. “This machine’s as old as dirt,” Gus continued. “Where’d you get it, anyway?”

  “Sassy. She used to keep it up at the Bait and Tackle when the twins were knee-high to a tadpole, remember? I used it to make popcorn balls.”

  “Speaking of old…”

  Wendell’s blood began to stir, anticipating his friend’s next comment. “What?”

  “Sassy’s so old, when she was born the Dead Sea was just getting sick.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Now me,” Gus said, with a wink. “I’m looking for a younger woman, myself. I’ve been thinking about asking my granddaughter to hook me up with one of her friends. Someone like…”

  At that moment a horn honked, startling them. Wendell looked up to see Fanny, waving from the front seat of her luxury sedan as she drove by.

  “What a wonderful idea,” Wendell said with a grin. “You and Fanny would make a terrific couple.”

  “Come on now.” Gus got back in his truck with a sour look on his face.

  “No, I’m serious. Fanny’s a good twenty years younger than you, and she’s certainly available. Oh, that reminds me. I believe I told her you’d help her out at the cakewalk tonight.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “Wendell Meeks, I’m going to…”

  Wendell found it difficult to understand what Gus said over the sound of squealing tires as his truck pulled away.

  ***

  Sassy crossed the churchyard, marveling at the sights and sounds that greeted her. There were pony rides for the kids, who should be arriving any moment now. A petting zoo would also keep little ones amused, along with booths of every sort—everything from face painting and ring toss to bobbing for apples and a cakewalk. The teens had erected some sort of a coffee shop area, where most of them would probably be content to hang out and chat. The festivities would begin shortly, if everything went according to plan.

  And speaking of plans, Pastor Jordan had readily accepted Fall at the River as the appropriate theme for the festival, even agreeing to be ‘baptized’ in the dunking booth. The ladies worked diligently to prepare. Sue Ellen had concocted a river out of a wide bolt of shimmering blue fabric, winding it across the lawn, through the booths, and finishing it off at the street’s edge. Sassy had placed paper fish in the river, and Gus and Wendell had worked with Fletcher to build up the edges with rocks and dirt. All in all, they had created a pretty impressive replica of the Biloxi.

  Sassy grinned as she crossed a tiny bridge over the makeshift river. She turned her sights to the food counter, where she had agreed to work with Sue Ellen and Fanny dishing out hot dogs, cotton candy, popcorn balls and caramel apples. Fanny gestured frantically. “Hurry, Sassy! We need you over here.”

  “I’m coming.” Sassy picked up the pace, heading their way.

  “Hey, Sassy.”

  She looked up at Wendell, who struggled to carry a large container of popcorn balls. He placed them on the counter, breathing a sigh of relief as they landed safely. “Finished them, eh?” she teased.

  “Yeah.” He stifled a yawn. “Stayed up half the night, but they’re done. I’ve got your popcorn machine in Gus’s truck. We’ll make the transfer to your vehicle before the night is over.”

  “Great.” She shivered again the cool night air. “It’s chilly out tonight. I should have worn my coat.”

  “Here, take my sweater.” He yanked off a simple gray button-up and slipped it over her shoulders.

  “Thanks,” she said, avoiding eye contact. He’s such a good man.

  “I passed the pie toss on the way over,” Wendell said with a grin. “You should have seen Beauregard Van what’s his name getting set up. Looks like a de
er caught in the headlights.”

  “I’ll have to get over there before the night’s over,” Sassy said with a wicked grin. “That fella’s got so many names, he could stand to have one or two of them knocked off with a lemon meringue pie.”

  They burst into laughter just as Sue Ellen appeared with an armload of hot dog buns. “Have you been over to the craft area yet?”

  “Stopped by on the way here,” Sassy said, helping her unload. “Looks like Dottie Jean and Leota have their work cut out for them. People are already standing in line to get in.”

  “Speaking of which…” Wendell gestured to the line of children forming at the food booth.

  Sassy glanced at her watch. 5:45. “Oh my goodness.” She began pulling items from bags. “We’re running late.”

  Sue Ellen rapidly spun cotton candy then rolled it onto long paper funnels. Sassy and Wendell worked side by side until the popcorn balls were unloaded and apples were pressed onto sticks in readiness for dipping, then turned their attention to the hot dogs, which they feverishly placed into warmed buns.

  I love you, Sassy.

  “What did you say?” She looked up at Wendell, astonished.

  “I said, I’ve got to get over to dunking booth to see how Pastor Jordan is making out.”

  “Oh, okay.” Sassy took a few deep breaths, trying to slow the rhythm of her heart as he walked away.

  Are the caramel apples ready?” Sue Ellen gave her an inquisitive look.

  “Not quite.”

  “It’s nearly six, and I’ve got some very anxious kids over here. How much longer?”

  “The caramel is melted, and I’ve got the apples on a stick,’ Sassy explained, then wrung her hands. But I’ve run into a hitch. Fanny was supposed to bring chopped pecans, and she brought whole ones instead. I’m doing the best I can to mash them, but it’s taking awhile.”

  “Just hurry, honey.” Sue Ellen turned back to the crowd. “I’ll try to pitch Wendell’s popcorn balls in the meantime.”

  “Miss Sassy?” Sassy glanced to her right as she heard a youngster’s voice. “Tilly needs you!”