Gone to Green

by Judy Christie

  The news of the Sunday phone call flew around town faster than a story broadcast on cable news channels. Katy had run out of the house crying, Iris Jo had given me an "I thought I knew you better" look, and Chris had looked completely puzzled. Tammy grabbed her purse and left.

  Pastor jean broke the ice slightly by saying, "Amen" loudly and starting the serving line. By the end of Sunday afternoon, I had explained myself so many times that I was hoarse-and I still felt ashamed. Many of the guests weirdly ignored it, almost as though that would make the call evaporate.

  "I guess I'm a little disappointed you didn't mention it," Chris said with a somber look on this face as he was helping clean up. "I thought we were ... well, getting close."

  "I didn't know what to do," I said. "This whole situation, this whole year . . . "

  "Well, keep me posted," he said, quickly loading his grilling gear and driving off.

  "Help," I whispered after everyone had gone. "Lord, give me wisdom. Show me what to do."

  A regional chain was willing to pay top dollar for the little Green News-Item. Our accounting problems had been cleared up, and we were making more money than I realized.

  The corporate buyers suggested we had potential to make more if we were managed better, which seemed fairly haughty but was probably true. They had other properties, as they called them, in the area and wanted to add The News-Item to their holdings.

  Everywhere I went that week I felt as though people were whispering and pointing, so I pretty much stuck to the house and the office. Of course, the newspaper wasn't much of a refuge.

  Some people in town forgave. Rose, for example, hated to see me go, but was matter-of-fact. "You've got to do what you've got to do," she said when I ducked into her shop.

  Linda took it much more personally. "I don't like it one bit," she said. "Seems sort of tricky to me. But it is a sure thing." She had been through enough hard times to believe you don't walk away from a sure thing.

  Eva was so wrapped up in her hotly contested mayor's race that she did not have much time to acknowledge the sale. "I'm a businesswoman," she said. "I would have liked a shot at it, but you must have had a good reason for your decision."

  Iris Jo also understood. "I remember the first day I spoke with you on the phone," she said. "You had barely even heard of Green, Louisiana, and sure didn't plan to move here. You've done a lot of good things in your short while here."

  One thing I wanted to do was to get some things in place before the sale to help a few people. I had not seen Walt in a few weeks, and I invited him to my house for dinner, telling him to put me on the clock because I needed to ask him some business questions. I felt bad that I had not made more time for him because I did like him. I knew he had expected more out of our relationship, and I thought I had been rude.

  That night, while dinner was cooking, we sat in the porch swing, and I tried to decide how to open the conversation. We had not dated enough or gotten close enough for this to be a breaking-up speech. It was more of a clear-the-air talk.

  Finally, I swallowed hard and started. "Like most of the people I care about," I said, "you deserve a great big apology."

  He looked a bit taken aback and then laughed. "Oh, we're the town martyr now, are we?"

  I looked more closely at him and realized he knew exactly what I was getting at. "Walt, you're one of the nicest people I know. I love hanging out with you, and I don't know what I would do without your legal advice. I am very sorry that something else didn't develop between us."

  "It still can," he said.

  "No, I don't think so," I said. The truth was I was leaving and had no interest in a long-distance romance. And somewhere deep inside me, I knew if I were to try to keep a relationship going, I wished it could be with Chris. He was in my thoughts far more than I cared to admit.

  Once I had my personal talk out of the way, I launched into my list of legal questions, eager to hear Walt's answers. "I need to know how much leeway I have in some staffing decisions. What kind of contract can we draw up to assure job security for a few people?"

  He wasn't overly optimistic.

  "You're just like some of my will clients who want to control things from the grave," he said with a laugh. "It'll only work if the buyers want the paper badly enough. Then we might have some clout. Let me do some research."

  As he was leaving, he leaned over and hugged me for a long moment. "You're a special person, Lois Barker," he said. "It's my great pleasure to know you."

  Just at that moment, Chris drove by on the way back from his catfish ponds, with his usual honk and a wave. He almost turned in, then seemed to realize I had company and went on. I had only seen him in passing since the day of the dreaded phone call. I had been gone a lot, including trips to Shreveport to work on the details of the sale and lots of time at the office. I knew from reading the sports pages that Chris was tied up, helping out with the basketball team. He had not stopped by. I was crushed.

  The next day Walt called, excited, saying he had found several precedents for what he called the "continuity arrangement" I wanted. He thought we could work it out.

  I immediately went to Iris Jo's desk, told her what I was trying to do, and asked if she would be willing to take over as business manager, handling Lee Roy's old duties, plus a handful of others. "I realize this is a little unconventional, since I'm leaving, but there's no one in the world more capable of keeping this place going."

  She balked at first. "Lois, I'm to blame for not catching all the malfeasance that was going on. And I'm not qualified for a job like that. Besides, the new owners will want their own person in place."

  I countered every statement with one of my own.

  "Iris Jo, I'm begging you to at least consider the job. It will be good for you and for the paper. And I have a few more ideas, but I need you to help pull them off."

  I had her attention. "We need to interview Linda and consider bringing her on to take your old job. She has lots of business experience, is a hard worker, and we know we can trust her with the paper's money."

  Iris smiled. "Besides, it's a missionary act to get her away from Major," she said.

  "I also want to bring Molly on as a part-time intern to help you and Linda and to learn more about the business. Watching her these past months, I suspect she has a head for business and needs a place to realize it. I am taking a risk, spending someone else's payroll money with no guarantee they will keep everyone on." I swallowed hard. "But I have to try."

  Maybe I had a guilty conscience, but I wanted to leave things in better shape than I had found them.

  My negotiations were punctuated by the last days of the mayoral campaign, an intense race that thankfully seemed to take people's minds off of my business dealings. Without having had a true mayoral election in decades, the race was something of a novelty. Louisiana had an ancient election law calling for Saturday elections, left over from the days when people from the country came into town for the day, and Election Day felt like some sort of holiday.

  Eva's opponent, a banker who worked with Duke, was a good man. But I happily pulled the lever for my friend, knowing she would do a great job. Our newspaper had endorsed her and took credit when she won, but it wasn't because of the editorials. She had won by four votes, which we figured were mine, Tammy's, Iris Jo's, and Tom's.

  Through the next few days, other things came together. Duke and I went over the numbers, which looked outstanding. Walt looked at contracts with Jim, the business broker. I met the buyer's representatives at Jim's office and shook hands on the deal. I had a seven-day grace period to sign the papers, and we set a meeting for the next week, four days after Christmas. Walt and Jim and I went over the details again, and I left, overwhelmed at how much money would head my way at the first of the year.

  I hoped to see my brothers for Christmas, but with the sale about to close, it didn't work out. Several people invited me over to eat the holiday meal, but I still felt as though I had wronged them and decided to s
tay home. I even skipped Christmas Eve services at church, skittish about not being welcome there any more. I had a few presents from my brothers and one from Marti to open.

  I thought of last year's Christmas Day, when I had staffed the city desk in Dayton. At least this was better than that.

  Late in the afternoon, just as the sun was setting on the clear, cold day, I went for a long walk, needing to decide where I was headed after I sold the paper. While I didn't have to leave town immediately, I knew I did not want to hang around and watch someone else run my newspaper. And Asheville was still open and needed an answer.

  As I walked back up the road into my driveway, Chris's dogs came running out to greet me, frisky in the chilly air. When I looked up, Chris was standing at my front door with a plate covered in aluminum foil and a small gift.

  "Oh, there you are," he said. "I thought you were avoiding me and wouldn't answer the door."

  I laughed, even though I didn't feel like laughing, and invited him in.

  "Merry Christmas," he said, leaning over and giving me a kiss on my forehead. "I heard you didn't get to go home for the holidays, so I brought you some of my mama's worldfamous turkey and dressing and a piece of pumpkin pie and a little present."

  "But I don't have a gift for you," I said, embarrassed.

  "Not a problem," he said. "I've had a great time just getting to know you these past few months. That's been a gift for me. I'm sorry I've not come by sooner."

  Since it was too cold to sit on the porch swing, we settled on the sofa, once more sitting close. When I opened the package, I found an unusual piece of old green pottery. "That was my grandma's," he said. "I noticed you like that stuff." He motioned toward my collection lining a weathered bookcase.

  I turned the piece over to look at the mark on the bottom. It read, "Route 2 Pottery."

  "They used to make it down the road there years ago," he said, pointing toward the crossroads, "where that little old church house is." I turned and gave him a huge hug and a quick kiss. My stay in Green had many moments that would rank in the never-forget category, and this was close to the top, his gift, his visit, his friendship.

  "I know we haven't been friends for long," Chris said, "but I hate to see you go. It's going to feel mighty lonesome out here on Route 2. I'm happy for you, though, getting a good price for the paper and all."

  Tears came into my eyes, and I looked down at the small green pitcher. "It's really hard to leave, but it's what I need to do."

  "I wish you all the best." He stood to go. "Maybe our paths will cross again some day. Maybe you'll come visit us from the big city."

  The next day at work I tried to finish everything that needed doing and began to put my few personal belongings in a box. I decided to leave two pieces of art as a gift for Molly and Katy. They might not appreciate them now, but someday they would.

  I left work after everyone else, planning to drive up to Shreveport and spend the night. My closing appointment was extremely early, and I didn't want to hit the road so earlyplus, I felt the need to distance myself from Green before I took this next step. As I walked through the lobby, I noticed that someone-Katy, no doubt-had painted the name of the paper at the bottom of the list of death notices on the window, complete with a skull.

  At first I was so irritated that I started to demand she clean it off, but then I stopped. Was I killing The News-Item? Would corporate owners take good care of this paper and care about it and care about Green? I loved my little paper.

  Aunt Helen popped into my mind. "What are you running away from?" she had asked. What was I running away from?

  I had friends here, people who loved me. I had something going with Chris. My work was fulfilling. I was helping others make a difference in the community. I wanted to learn more about the faith and hope I'd begun to have, and I could do that here.

  So what if the summers were hot? I did have airconditioning.

  "Help," I whispered, sitting down on the steps of the paper. I looked around, hoping to see a rainbow as I had done that day in Zach's office or to hear the word "stay."

  I laughed at my foolishness, and a wave of peace washed over me.

  I went back into my office, unpacked the box and called Walt. I knew I needed to tell the broker Jim immediately that I had changed my mind, but I wanted to see where I stood legally first.

  Walt hooted when I told him. "I knew you'd never sell that paper," he said.

  "You did not."

  "I really did," he said, "but, whew, you came pretty close, didn't you? We've got a mess on our hands."

  "But I have a grace period," I said. "We haven't closed on the deal."

  "I'll take care of it for you," he said, pausing, "even if you did dump me."

  "I didn't dump you," I said, "and thanks for handling it. I owe you big time. I'll sing at your wedding or speak at your funeral or help you get elected governor. Just get me out of t is.

  I was being awfully flippant for someone giving up a nice wire deposit to her bank account and making a fairly big media corporation very angry. I couldn't help it. I felt so good.

  "And, Walt, I'm going to need your help in changing some legal papers right away."

  "I'll call you at home as soon as I wrap up with Jim and the corporate guys, and we'll do whatever we need to do."

  My next call was to Duke, who also laughed loudly.

  "You nearly fooled me," he said. "I couldn't believe you'd sell your precious Item, but I had my doubts these last couple of days." He volunteered to come over to my office right away to help me sort out the changes, especially what I needed to tell the bank.

  The next day I spent holed up at my house, meeting with Walt and Duke and working out a million details. I didn't want to go downtown because I knew that Iris Jo and the others thought I was in Shreveport selling the paper. I wasn't ready for them to know differently.

  One of my more unpleasant chores was calling the publisher in Asheville, severing that option. He was gracious and congratulated me. "Running your own newspaper is something very special," he said. "Enjoy every minute of it."

  Zach, however, was peeved when he got the word and called me later that day. "You're burning bridges here, Lois," he said. "You really should follow through on this position."

  The day after that, December 31, I breezed into the newspaper with three boxes of doughnuts. I had never breezed anywhere before, but today I definitely breezed into The News-Item. Someone had washed the newspaper's name off the window, and I smiled.

  "Mighty cheerful today, aren't we?" Tammy asked. "Didn't figure we'd see any more of you around here. See you brought some doughnuts to celebrate your big deal."

  "You got it," I said. "Would you get everyone to gather around in the newsroom?"

  Grumbling, Tammy made the rounds through the newspaper plant, pulling everyone together in the news area, just as we had done the day I started. I set the doughnuts on a desk and looked everyone in the eye-people I had not known only a year ago, people who meant so much to me today.

  "I think most of you have forgiven me for being an idiot," I said. "I may not deserve that forgiveness, but I accept it with great appreciation."

  I wasn't sure how to continue and thought I probably should have written my remarks down. I could tell they figured I had come to say "goodbye" and were ready for me to get on with it.

  I took another deep breath. "I have backed out on my deal and, if you'll have me, I intend to stay in Green."

  Everyone rushed at me, laughing and crying and talking all at once. I held up my hand.

  "I need to tell you something else. I have set a profit-sharing plan in motion that will make each of you owners of the paper, in line with how many years you have been here. This paper would not be the paper it is without each of you, and I can't thank you enough."

  If I thought the room had been wild a few minutes before, I was wrong. It exploded with people hugging me and cheering and yelling, "Happy New Year." It was a very fun moment.

&n
bsp; Just after lunch, Walt and his father appeared in my office. Walt told me more about how he had "gracefully" backed me out of the deal. "In the end, while the corporate brokers were aggravated," he said, "it was just business to them."

  His father held out an envelope, addressed in the old-fashioned script that I recognized as Aunt Helen's. As you know, Walt and I have been the newspaper's lawyers for many years, and I was also Helen's personal attorney. She asked me to give you this when you decided not to sell the paper." He smiled.

  I opened the envelope to find the deed to the house on Route 2 and a two-word note. "Welcome home," it said.

  That night I slipped into the back pew of Grace Community Chapel. Katy and I had visited for a long time earlier in the day, and she had invited me to the New Year's Eve services, being led by members of the small youth group. I was delighted to see her friend Molly there and several teens I did not recognize. The lights were turned down low, and candles flickered on each windowsill.

  Katy had not told me she was giving the main message, but I was not terribly surprised when she stood up. She spoke of what a hard year it had been for her and others and how life sometimes just didn't seem fair.

  "But so much good comes to us, and we have to learn to appreciate it and not waste any of it," she said. "God calls each of us to do wonderful, special things with our lives." She announced the scholarship fund we were setting up in memory of Matt, and Iris Jo looked as though she would cry for the second time that day.

  "Most of all," Katy said, staring straight at me, "I have realized that all you have to do is your part. You do your part, and watch what God will do. Grace and peace to each of you in the New Year."

  Just as the service ended, Chris looked back, saw me and moved into the pew beside me. He touched my arm. "I'm glad you're staying," he whispered.

  "So am I."

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Green News-Item Golden Pen Awards Given

  The Green News-Item would like to thank its wonderful community correspondents, who regularly contribute such great local news to your newspaper.