Biloxi Brides (Sugar and Grits)

by Martha Rogers

  He reached out to take Sassy by the hand, squeezing tightly. She squeezed back, dissolving into tears once again. Wendell’s heart filled with emotion, and he felt the sting of tears in his own eyes. Could this day get any better, Lord?

  After a moment or two she lifted her head, looking around the table. “Look at me,” she said, sniffling. “Getting all emotional.”

  “It’s okay, Mom.” Tilly took Fred’s outstretched hand.

  “Well, don’t mind me,” Sassy continued, passing the stuffing. “Eat up, everyone. Food’s getting cold.”

  Her guests began to fill their plates, and the clinking of silverware filled the room, along with the laughter of those present as they enjoyed one another’s company. Wendell drank it all in, enjoying every delicious moment.

  “Sassy, this is gooder'n grits.” Fanny pressed a large spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

  “Thank you.” Under the table, Sassy reached for Wendell’s hand. He took it willingly.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Well, what did you think of the wedding this morning?” Sassy rolled up her pants to the knee and kicking her legs over the edge of the pier.

  “Beautiful,” Tilly said with a nod. “Dottie Jean looked amazing. Fletcher didn’t look half bad, either.”

  “Well, I looked like a derned fool in that satin dress, if you ask me.” Sassy pulled out her fishing pole. “But it’s over now. Thank the good Lord Leota only wants me to serve cake at her reception tonight. No telling what sort of getup she and What’s-His-Name would have dressed me in.”

  “It’s going to be quite a show, from what I hear,” Tilly said. “A full-blown Christmas theme. Leota’s got half the town working to decorate the church this afternoon. How’d you get off the hook, anyway?”

  “Told her the only way I could come tonight was if she’d give me the afternoon off,” Sassy explained. “Besides, everyone knows I’m no good at decorating.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Mom,” Tilly argued. “I’d be willing to bet there are a lot of things you’re good at.”

  Sassy shrugged. “Could you hand me that container of bait?” She worked to straighten out the line, finally freeing it to her satisfaction. “Tilly?”

  She turned to find Wendell standing where her daughter had been. He had a funny look on his face. Something inside Sassy immediately began to stir. “What are you doing here?” She squinted up at him.

  “Thought you could use some help baiting your hook.” He reached for her pole.

  “That’s plum crazy. I’ve been baiting my own hook since I was a kid.” She shivered against the cold, then pulled her jacket tighter.

  “Just the same, I’d be grateful if you’d let me handle it for you this time,” he said. He grabbed the pole, hands trembling.

  She turned to open her coffee thermos. “Do as you please.” Sassy poured a cup of coffee, and then settled back to look at the murky waters of the Biloxi. The reflection of bare tree limbs in the water held her gaze, bringing tranquility. After what seemed like an eternity, she turned to face Wendell once again. “It’s taking you a mighty long time to do that,” she whined. “Either fish or cut bait.”

  “I think I’ll fish.” He handed her the pole. “But you’d better take a closer look at the bait.”

  She reached for the line, pulling until she reached the hook on the end. The sparkle of a diamond caught her off-guard, leaving her breathless. A silver ring, petite and exquisite, hung precariously from the hook.

  ***

  Wendell’s hands trembled as he pulled the ring from the fishhook and gripped it in his hand. Help me, Lord. He carefully dropped to one knee, looking Sassy in the eye. Was she terrified or horrified? It was hard to tell from the expression on her face. Tears trickled down her cheeks as he placed the ring on her finger.

  “Sassy,” he spoke quietly. “I don’t exactly know when I first started loving you, but I do know why.”

  She leaned her head down, burying her face in her hands. He carefully lifted her chin with trembling fingers. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, Sassy Hatchett,” Wendell said. “Beautiful inside and out. You’ve got enough electricity inside you to keep the whole town lit, and as good as you are at fishing, I know we’ll never go hungry.”

  She stifled a laugh, looking up at him with tear-stained cheeks. He brushed the tears away gently as he continued. Reaching out with both hands, Wendell pulled her up until they stood face to face. He ran the back of his hand across her soft cheek, loving each spot, each wrinkle.

  “Marry me, Sassy,” he implored, his heart feeling as if it would burst.

  “Me?” she argued. “But I’m so…”

  He placed his finger over her lips, shushing her. “Marry me and make me the happiest man in Calista, Mississippi.”

  “I will,” she conceded with a sigh, leaning her head against his chest, “If you’ll have me.”

  Wendell suddenly felt a joy he had never before known. “Have you?” he practically shouted. “Of course I’ll have you!”

  He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. Lord, is this what it feels like to love and be loved? His heart pounded in his ears, sheer nerves at work, but that did not deter him. Not this time. Wendell leaned in to kiss the woman he loved. Their lips met swiftly, and his heart swelled with a passion borne out of sixty years of waiting.

  Waiting for just the right catch.

  Sassy’s “Sweeter’n Wendell”

  Southern Dreamboat Cake

  Cream Together:

  1Stick Butter

  ½ C. Crisco

  2 C. Sugar

  Add and Beat well

  5 egg yolks (Save whites and beat till stiff, will be used later)

  Combine

  2 C. Plain Flour

  1 teaspoon soda

  Add to Mixture Alternating W/Flour Combination

  1 C. Buttermilk

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  Add ½ Large can of angel coconut

  Add 1 C. Chopped southern pecans

  Fold in 5 beaten egg whites

  Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes or until cake tester comes out clean. Do not over cook.

  Makes 3 layers. Frost with cream cheese icing and add ½ can coconut to icing

  Sassy’s Top Ten Tips Fer Snaggin’ a Fella

  1. Be yerself. Ain’t nobody better’n you to do the job.

  2. A good man can take his honey with a little vinegar mixed in, so give yer fella “what-for” when he needs it. It’ll do him good.

  3. For pity’s sake, stop yer whinin’ around the men-folk. Drives ‘em mad and heaven knows they’re crazy enough already.

  4. Put on a clean shirt after you’ve been to the pier, one that don’t smell of bait. And while yer at it, run a brush through that mess you call hair. If yer really in trouble, called the Rhonda-vous for an appointment.

  5. Don’t judge a book by its cover, or a fella by his face. Give him a chance, even if he looks like someone beat him with the ugly stick. Just remember, it ain’t what’s on the outside that counts. Perty is as perty does. Could be, he’s a handsome fella way down deep. Way, way down deep.

  6. Wear yer Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes if you really want to impress a potential beau, but don’t waste too much time tryin’ to wriggle into that old girdle you’ve been hiding in your unmentionables drawer since 1987. Might be hazardous. You and I both know the Lycra gave out on that old thing years ago.

  7. Be quick to forgive, ‘n even quicker to repent. Nothing says “I love you” to a fella like a gal who’s willing to admit when she’s wrong.

  8. Patience is a virtue, especially if Mr. Right starts actin’ like Mr. Wrong. When you feel like smackin’ him upside his ornery head, just mosey on down to the river and grab your pole. A little time apart will do you both good. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that.

  9. Holler out to the Almighty regular-like, but don’t be surprised if He hollers back, especially i
f you’ve got your toes danglin’ in the Biloxi.

  10. Never say never. In the South, a gal’s got a chance at love as long as there’s breath inside of her. So, keep on breathin’, ladies. I highly recommend it.

  About the Author

  Janice Thompson

  Award-winning author Janice Thompson also writes under the pseudonym Janice Hanna. She got her start in the industry writing screenplays and musical comedies for the stage. Janice has published over ninety books for the Christian market, crossing genre lines to write cozy mysteries, historicals, romances, nonfiction books, devotionals, children’s books and more. She particularly enjoys writing light-hearted, comedic tales because she enjoys making readers laugh. In addition, she enjoys public speaking and mentoring young writers. Janice is passionate about her faith and does all she can to share the joy of the Lord with others, which is why she particularly enjoys writing. Her tagline, “Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters!” sums up her take on life. She lives in Spring, Texas, where she leads a rich life with her family, a host of writing friends, and two mischievous dachshunds. She does her best to keep the Lord at the center of it all. You can find out more about Janice at www.janiceathompson.com.

  Falling for You

  by

  Kathleen Y’Barbo

  Falling for You

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To the ladies of Seared Hearts:

  DiAnn Mills, Martha Rogers, and Janice Thompson

  And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory,

  are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

  2 CORINTHIANS 3:18

  Chapter One

  December 29

  “What in the world is Sue Ellen up to now?”

  Deputy Sheriff Bud Briggs swallowed the lump in his throat as he cruised past the Catfish House. Ignoring the pointed stares of the guys at the counter, he stopped his squad car at the station, directly across from the Rhonda-Vous House of Beauty, and tried not to look too obvious.

  Ever since Rhonda sold out to Sue Ellen Caldwell after the last hurricane, strange things had been happening at the Rhonda-Vous. Today’s spectacle, however, beat all.

  Taking advantage of the unseasonably warm December morning, the owner herself, all decked out in form-fitting red jeans and a blue and white top with her fair hair tied up in a long ponytail, stood perched on a rickety ladder. A dozen or so yards of red ribbon draped over her shoulder and hung down her back, and a length of it spilled onto the sidewalk to puddle around the base of the ladder.

  Only four days after Christmas, and she’d already removed all the blue decorations from her absurdly titled Blue Christmas Color-and-Cut Special. Her shop tree, formerly covered in blue bows and various beauty-related items, now lay at the curb ready for the trash pickup tomorrow.

  Faeoni Ledbetter, the sheriff’s recently arrived sister-in-law from Bogalusa, drove by doing her customary twenty-five in a thirty-five zone, and a few stray pieces of silver tinsel glittered in her wake.

  “Afternoon, Deputy,” she called, waving her gloved hand in his direction.

  Bud returned the gesture, then turned his attention back to Sue Ellen and the ladder, which looked none too safe. That, combined with the fact that she kept reaching just a bit farther than was safe to drape the goofy ribbon, made Bud glad he was a praying man.

  A banner advertising a “New Year, New Do” special for the upcoming month of January had been hung beneath the neon pink letters of the store’s original sign, and Sue Ellen seemed to be trying to deck it out in red ribbon. The place looked like the Fourth of July rather than two days before New Year’s Eve.

  New Year’s Eve.

  The reminder of the holiday, and his mission regarding it, put the lump right back into Bud’s throat. Hoping to dislodge it, he took a swig from his thermos of bottled water and chased it with a vitamin E and a couple of Cs.

  Why had he thought to listen to the guys down at Gus’s gas station? He’d certainly never cared about having a date to anything, much less to the Camerons’ New Year’s Eve bash.

  They teased him all the time, and generally Bud recognized it and ignored the whole lot of them. If he’d found the gumption to follow his usual procedure regarding the old coots, he’d be happily planning his final long weekend at the fish camp before it went on the market.

  Instead, he had to either admit defeat to Wendell, Gus, and the boys or step out of the patrol car and ask Sue Ellen Caldwell to the big New Year’s Eve party at Dottie Jean and Fletcher’s new place. Pride demanded he follow through, while good sense kept him glued to the seat.

  He cast a glance heavenward. I’ve been meaning to deal with my pride issues, Lord, and now seems as good a time as any to start, don’t You think?

  Obviously the Lord was too busy laughing at him to answer.

  “What’re you afraid of, Bud?” He leaned to the right a notch to adjust his sunglasses in the rearview mirror. “It’s just Sue Ellen Caldwell. What’s she going to do, turn you down? You two go way back.”

  And they did.

  He and Sue Ellen Caldwell had known each other since the church nursery, where they’d spent nearly every Sunday morning together until junior high, when the pastor decided that separating the boys from the girls would better focus wandering attentions back on the Lord. Despite the inconvenience of different Sunday school rooms, Bud managed to position himself outside the church in order to arrive just as Sue Ellen and her brothers climbed out of her father’s baby blue Impala.

  He told himself he just wanted to be nice, but somewhere down deep he knew he wanted to get a glimpse of her smile. That always put a special shine on the Lord’s Day. Of course, she put a shine on every day, even when they spent an afternoon together digging for worms to sell down at Sassy Hatchett’s bait shop.

  With the money they earned, they’d race to the Catfish House for chocolate shakes, then get them in carryout cups and take them to the water to drink while they caught fish. Bud still couldn’t go fishing down at the fish camp without thinking about chocolate shakes, and he couldn’t go fishing at all without thinking of Sue Ellen Caldwell.

  Well, Sue Ellen Caldwell and Elvis. That girl sure liked to treat him and all creation to her version of every tune Elvis ever crooned, even if her singing did chase most of the fish away.

  “Sue Ellen Caldwell.” He tested the name, rolling it around in his head before whispering it aloud.

  By high school, Bud finally admitted to himself he had it bad for her, although he would never have said a thing for fear of jeopardizing their friendship. They were pals, partners in crime in homeroom, and on the rare Saturday afternoon, still fishing buddies.

  Some thought they were an item, owing in large part to the amount of time they spent with each other. The truth was, Sue Ellen’s mama was one of those women of delicate nerves, and Sue Ellen’s daddy was gone more than he was home. The combination of having a federal marshal for a husband and Sue Ellen for a daughter often sent the elder Caldwell female into a tizzy.

  When Mama Caldwell had one of her hissy fits, Sue Ellen headed for the Briggses’ house. For his part, Bud tried to pretend that it wasn’t the closeness of their homes that drew her there but rather the unconfessed love she felt for him.

  Either way, Bud was smart enough to know that Sue Ellen Caldwell, a cheerleader and senior class homecoming queen, was way out of his league. A girl like her didn’t belong in a town like Calista anyway, so when she went off to beauty school in Biloxi and he signed up for the Marines, Bud figu
red he’d never see her again.

  When word came to him that Sue Ellen’s mama had convinced her husband to hang up his badge and buy an RV, you could’ve knocked Bud over with a feather. Jim Caldwell had always been somewhat of a hero to him. To think of the lawman driving around in an oversized tin box with black socks, sandals, and a camera made Bud shudder.

  He should have returned home right then, for surely something was awfully wrong. Still, he’d signed on for another four years in the Corps. Sue Ellen was long gone, so what did it matter?

  By the time Bud had finished his tour of duty, spent a few years on the force in Hattiesburg, then settled into the job of deputy sheriff of Calista, he should have forgotten all about Sue Ellen Caldwell. Unfortunately, he hadn’t. Every blond-haired, green-eyed gal from San Diego to Savannah reminded him of her.

  If he thought about it, which he tried not to, Sue Ellen Caldwell was most likely the reason he found himself single and facing thirty-three with no one but his hunting dogs, Bullet and Zeke, for companionship.

  You could have bowled him over when Dottie Jean down at the Catfish House showed him the letter she’d gotten last September announcing that Sue Ellen was headed home to buy what the hurricane didn’t tear up of the town beauty parlor. A few new panes of glass in the front windows and a trio of brand-new shampoo bowls, and she was in business.

  Over the past year, their paths had crossed more than a time or two, an unavoidable occurrence in such a small town. Each time Bud saw her, he found himself as tongue-tied as a kid on his first date, so he took to avoiding her as much as possible.