The Lutheran Ladies' Circle: Plucking One String

by Kris Knorr

“Sure. Why didn’t you stay home and sleep?”

  “Vera thinks I’ll burn the house down if she leaves me alone.”

  “C’mon. I don’t know how much rest you’ll get. It’ll be noisy here. She gave him a no-big-deal-wave and climbed the vehicle’s steps.

  It was 90º by 8 a.m. The pale blue sky had one tiny, puffball cloud to the north. A hot breeze rustled the sea of pop-up canopies along the lawn. Parked cars lined the street, and shoppers gathered at the rope tied across the church’s driveway. When it dropped, forty people hurried toward Lorena’s directional signs.

  EXPERIENCED BABY ITEMS--DOWNSTAIRS

  EXPERIENCED LAWN EQUIPMENT

  REAR OF PARKING LOT

  Shoppers made requests for lawn mowers experienced enough to mow by themselves. A shovel missing its handle sported a chalk label: “Had a bad experience.” Some jokester scratched the word, “Experienced” above the Food sign. Within a couple of hours all the volunteers had grown tired of Lorena’s unique marketing strategy.

  By noon, the temperature had reached 100º. The cloud in the north had grown into tall, billowing towers. The Sunday school food booth began hawking sandwiches, but the big seller was homemade strawberry shortcake with piles of ice cream.

  As Vera whisked around the sale, giving advice and negotiating prices, she searched for her aunt, asking if anyone had seen her. When Roger heard, he tracked Vera to the Fellowship Hall, informing her Aunt Ula was sleeping off last night in his trailer.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before? I’ve been looking everywhere.” She scowled at him, dark circles underlining her eyes.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Well, I have enough to do without worrying about her, too.”

  Roger broke their stare-off with, “You never asked me. Besides, if you knew, you wouldn’t have let her sleep.”

  “I should say not. It looks bad enough to have cars parked overnight at the church, much less an RV. People wonder what we do here all night. Your trailer wasn’t something I approved, but I was too tired to argue last night.”

  “You’re welcome, again. Glad you feel like arguing today.” Roger watched Vera examine an antique picture frame someone claimed should be priced higher.

  He made a mental note to leave his truck parked in front of her house tonight. Walt could take him home. She’d be mortified by the slightest hint of a man staying at her place. What would the neighbors think? He’d stick a sign in his back window, too: “Experienced Truck Driver―CHEAP.”

  “Don’t you have lawn mowers or loud, noisy tools to sell?” Vera said, shooing her fingers at him.

  He gave her a single nod. “Yeah, I’ve gotta lot to do.”

  “Tell my aunt to report to me,” Vera called as he left.

  *

  Aunt Ula spent the afternoon following her niece around, referring to her as “Lady Astor” until Vera could stand no more. “Do something useful. Help sell merchandise.”

  In a short while, Aunt Ula approached a young couple looking at a baby crib. “Do you find any of these attractive?”

  “Which ones?” asked the man staring at the five sets of earrings she’d clipped to her ears.

  “Any one you choose, and we have necklaces and pins to match.” She pointed to her chest bejeweled with beads and glass brooches. She’d slipped into her sequined gown again and was touring the grounds, selling adornments off her body.

  When she saw Vera coming, she slipped into Kay’s canopy of crafts which no longer fit anyone’s décor.

  “You are a problem.” Anger seemed to scent the air around Vera as she pointed at the old woman.

  “Take a number. We’re working on several problems.” Kay walked past, lugging an oversized frame to a senior citizen’s SUV. “Grab a corner, Vera. Help carry. Why’d you plan this sale when the kids are in San Francisco on their mission trip? Their young backs could be toting this stuff to people’s cars.”

  “Your boys didn’t go on the trip. Why didn’t they help today?” Vera took uneven steps, trying to keep her end from dragging the ground. She didn’t notice Aunt Ula slip away, or Kay’s mouth tighten into a straight line.

  The customer unlocked her car door. “I love the experienced merchandise theme.”

  “Thanks. You’re the only one.” Kay gave a weak smile then wedged the unwieldy rectangle into the back seat. Walking back to the canopies, Kay’s words were short and sharp. “You’re in rare form, Vera. I’m about the 15th person you’ve tromped on, so here’s your first and last warning. My kids aren’t here because they’ve moved out. They’re working at the lake with my ex and his nymph of the week. Don’t push me. I’m having a rough time.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” Vera squeezed the bridge of her nose as they walked. “I’m tired, cranky, and have been putting up with that all week.” She flung her palm toward her aunt.

  “It’s not the same thing. Not even close. Don’t you ever grieve your losses, or do you just stay busy?” Kay didn’t wait for an answer. “Besides, I think Aunt Ula’s entertaining. So do the customers.”

  “She’s embarrassing herself and this church.” Vera stopped walking but Kay continued. “Wait. Please?” Vera watched the younger woman halt, her shoulders sag, and several seconds tick away before she turned around. “She adores you, Kay. You’ve dropped by the house several times and taken her shopping. She loves it and I thank you. If I give you a twenty, would you take her to Dari-Drive for whatever treats you both want?”

  “Are you bribing me to babysit?” Kay squinted, arching an eyebrow. “She’s not hurting anything.”

  “She’s driving away customers.”

  Kay’s hands slowly balled into fists as the edges of her nostrils flared and paled. “I’ll take her, but not because you asked. Because I need a break.” She turned, took a step, then swung back around. “Actually, it’s you who needs a break. A break from everything. You only think you’re in control. Stop yanking everyone’s reins. It’s irritating for us, and it’ll most likely kill you. You’d be blessed if you lived long enough to be comfortable letting go like that.” Kay pointed to Aunt Ula.

  They stared at the tiny, white-haired lady in anklets and bunion-liberating low-tops. She’d added a two-feathered hat to her outfit. With a model’s strut, she circled the parking lot, her sequined dress catching the sunlight. Little girls followed like groupies, begging their mothers for jewelry.

  Secrets of the Soda Shop

  “VERA’S SPONSORING ALL this?” Aunt Ula sat in the vinyl booth, sliding upside-down spoonfuls of thick chocolate milkshake into her mouth.

  “We all needed a break, especially Vera, but the old dictator wouldn’t take one. So I took her money and left before the reptile part of my brain took control of my mouth.” Kay flashed a half-smile, trying to mash the bobbing sphere of ice cream into her root beer, without foam oozing out of the cup.

  “I’m trying my best to wear her down.” Aunt Ula winked and shimmied her shoulders, making the sequins on her dress glimmer.

  “Good luck with that. Sorry she didn’t let you wear all your earrings.”

  The old woman wrinkled her nose and massaged her earlobes. “They pinched. Though, all those necklaces took me back to Mardi Gras.” She shook her head. “Live while you can, Kay. You never know when it’s going to end.”

  “You still have plenty of life in you. You’ll outlive Vera.”

  “Maybe. But I was speaking of the Captain.”

  “Aaaah. The Captain. Tell me about him. Vera says—well—she doesn’t talk about family.”

  Aunt Ula poked the mush of her ice cream with her straw, her eyes studying Kay. When she set the cup down, she massaged her chilled fingers, speaking softly, “Papa forbade the family to ever speak of him. Vera was too young to remember.” Beads of condensation trickled down the sides of her cup, puddling on the table top.

  She pulled a napkin from the dispenser and began wrapping her milkshake. “My father, Vera’s granddad, was a pastor, too. Big, ste
rn man with a handlebar mustache. Dark, piercing eyes. Voice of thunder and God. When he spoke, you listened—except me. I refused to marry the dull, young men he brought by the house. I . . .” she paused, looking up from her swathed cup. “Well, you’re no priest, so I’m not confessing the things I’ve done. Let’s just say, my choices made me the black sheep of the family. The day I brought the Captain home was the last time I saw or spoke to Papa.”

  Kay frowned. “How old were you?”

  “Twenty.” She pulled out another napkin, smoothed it open lengthways, and continued wrapping her cup. “He told me to stop sinning or leave his sight. So,” her eyes stared, not seeing, “I traveled the world. I knew the love of an older, wiser man. When the Captain died in an accident, I returned home. Papa had already passed on. You never know when it’s going to end.”

  Kay touched Aunt Ula’s arm and looked away. The sight of the tiny figure, bowed with pain, rippled dark memories buried in Kay’s heart. No one had liked her husband Gabe, either. Even before he turned out to be a cheating rat. She’d tongue-lashed relatives and friends, defending him. She’d been so stupid. The dinging of the counter-service bell brought her back to the booth.

  “Joe, my brother, was gone,” Aunt Ula was saying. “Died in the war.” Her face bent lower. She patted the napkin to the sides of the cup. “Ida, my sis, was married and already had Vera. It was just Mama and me in that old house. We never talked about it—Papa had forbidden it, and even though he was dead, Mama didn’t disobey him. It was as though that piece of my life never happened.” They fell silent.

  After a while, Aunt Ula sighed, “I know how Vera feels about never receiving her father’s approval. Dear girl, at least she tried.” Aunt Ula tipped the extra milkshake from the metal container into her cup, scraping the insides with her spoon.

  Kay watched the process, unsure what to say. Cars passed. Customers came through the door, saying it looked like a storm was kicking up outside. The teens in the next booth complained about sticking to the vinyl seats. Orders of icy drinks and ice cream treats paraded from the counter. Finally, the wrinkled face looked up, blue eyes wet. Kay was surprised how old Aunt Ula appeared. Had she always been so frail and tired-looking? Kay handed her the tiny, red handkerchief she now kept in her purse.

  “I’ve been trying to help Vera let go and live.” Aunt Ula’s thin hands blotted her eyes. “I promised Ida, my sister. I promised myself. Will you help me?”

  “I think Vera’s happy with her life,” Kay said.

  The old woman smacked the table, making Kay flinch. “Nobody wants to change. I’m not that stupid. Of course, she’s going to continue being the perfect pastor’s wife—even though he’s dead, the perfect organizer—even though everyone tolerates her only because they don’t want to volunteer, and the perfect example a good Christian lady—even though she’s a judgmental, semi-tolerant prig. Sounds like a balanced, well-connected life to me. You want to help or not?”

  “Aunt Ula, no one can fix Vera. She has to want to change herself.”

  “She wants to change, but needs a nudge to let go of what’s familiar. I found Vera’s sheet music at the rummage sale.”

  “O—kay?” Kay squinted, trying to read if the old woman was in Ula-World. “You found a lot of pretties yesterday. Who won the tug-of-war over your treasure-stash?”

  “I let Vera have it, but she learned her lesson. Look, I’m telling you, she never liked the piano. She wanted to play the clarinet, but she dutifully took keyboard so she could assist in church services.”

  “She played at our Easter services this year.”

  “She plays like she has gum on her fingers.” Aunt Ula made a face. “Holds notes too long at random spots.”

  “Well, it was slow for alleluia-music,” Kay said.

  “She emptied her piano bench. I think she’s starting to dump guilt. Clean out her regrets. I’m betting she’s only keeping the piano because it’s expensive. If I start banging on the keys, it’ll give her a good excuse to get rid of it, too. ‘Cargo by the board,’ that’s what the Captain shouted when it was time to get rid of something.”

  “Will you play or just beat the piano?”

  “I have skills, but I’m actually a harpist. The Captain bought me a lovely one.”

  “Is it at your home in Ponca?”

  She shook her head. “I had to sell everything. They tore down the house. The only gifts I have from the Captain are in a safety deposit box at the bank.”

  “So there’s proof of the Captain?”

  The old lady gave her a pained look. “Not you, too.”

  “Sorry. I’m never sure what’s real and what you’re saying to get your way.”

  “Me?” A questioning smile accented the old woman’s face. “What’s real is that I’m trying to break Vera so she can be remolded. It’s on my bucket list and the top item is getting rid of that cursed piano. Will you help?”

  Kay stared at the ceiling, letting out a long huff of air from puffed cheeks. Laughter, chatter, and the clank of spoons on glassware surrounded them as she slowly lowered her gaze to Aunt Ula’s eyes. “How about this? If there’s a real opportunity to make a difference, I’ll help. But count me out of your ‘wear-her-down’ antics.”

  “Deal.” The old woman held up her palm. “I’m not stopping though. Aggravating Vera has sorta become a hobby for me.”

  Kay high-fived the upheld palm. “You want a banana split while you scheme?”

  “Nope, had one yesterday. Snuck away while Vera was giving the canopy crew their launching orders.”

  “She told me she took away your purse,” Kay said.

  “Traded for it, matey. I helped myself to the stash Vera saved as she went through boxes. She said it was for the Ladies Circle. A nice tablecloth. Some linen napkins. I used them for barter with Schultzy.” She pointed toward the man behind the counter.

  “Does Vera know?”

  “Sure, I brought her a strawberry sundae. What could she say? She broke her own rules. Her mouth puckered up till it looked like a lemon-suck.”

  “I hope I never get on your bad side.”

  “I don’t have a bad side, dear, neither do you. We’re trying to do the best we can and we always fall short. The whole process would be improved if we’d order some chili-cheese-fries.”

  Kay blinked, trying to make the connection. “Those are awful for you.”

  “Live while you can.” She rose from the booth, raising her right shoulder then her left, making her sequins shake as she strolled toward the counter. She grinned, looking back as she spoke, “If the chili-fries kill me, bury me in this dress.”

  Kay thought Aunt Ula looked young again.

  Riding the Storm

  AUNT ULA PUSHED the soda shop’s door half open, stopping to gape at the sky. “We weren’t gone that long,” she murmured.

  “Let’s get going.” Kay nudged her. The two hurried back to church as fast as the old woman could move her Keds. Overhead, the thunderheads had turned the color of dirty concrete and the air felt thirty degrees cooler. Heavy gusts stole their words, whisking them down the street with plastic bags and rolling paper cups.

  At the church, a few canopies lay upside down, their white legs poking into air as folks struggled to collapse them. Volunteers were tossing merchandise higgledy-piggledy into cartons. Others carried boxes into the church.

  “News says there’s a tornado watch until six tonight,” Roger yelled from the steps of his RV. A few people left, others continued pawing through items. Many helped carry boxes inside so shopping could continue. Sales picked up, fueled by the energy of an upcoming storm.

  At five, Vera’s mind fumed as she watched Roger maneuver his RV around cars and drive from the parking lot. He was skipping clean up duties. A second thought elbowed the uncharitable notion aside with the reminder he’d been here all night. She should thank him…and apologize. One side of her mouth curled into a frown. Recently, it seemed she was always apologizing to someone.

/>   It took a while longer to shoo the last bargain hunters away. Two people, each with a box under their arm, offered to help get rid of merchandise. Vera stared at the two dollars they waggled for their cartons stuffed with booty.

  Her frown grew to both sides of her mouth and her forehead furrowed. She hadn’t allowed members to donate dribble-stained clothing, broken TV sets, or left-overs from do-it-yourself projects. The Shaded Valley Lutheran Rummage Sale had a reputation for great items at bargain-basement price. And these shoppers wanted them even cheaper—when the proceeds were going to charities around town?

  With a thin-lipped glare, Vera pulled the boxes from their arms. She’d had it with people wanting something for nothing. Let them go over to the Presbyterians and cut-rate them. “We’re closed. Come to church tomorrow, we’ll be selling everything for 75% off after the service.”

  Walt watched the couple leave. “Well, they’ll never come here again. You know, Vera, they’re paying us to haul away stuff we don’t want. It’s all profit.”

  “Look at this.” Vera tossed stuffed bears and unicorns from the boxes. “The bottom is filled with jewelry and CDs they can resell. Who tries to cheat a church?”

  “Who insults shoppers?” Walt said, watching Aunt Ula push through the doors.

  “We need to go,” the old woman gasped, trying to catch her breath after tromping from the Dari Drive. “There’s a bad blow in the air.” She tugged Vera’s arm.

  “Stop it.” Vera shook free, giving her aunt the stare she reserved for rebellious children or for dogs that tried to leave their treasures on her lawn.

  “Come with me.” Kay patted Aunt Ula’s back and gave Vera a glare that said she had bricks for brains. “I’m going to Hettie’s. We’ll enjoy having you with us.”

  “I won’t leave Vera. Nobody should be alone in a storm.” Aunt Ula tugged her niece’s arm again. “C’mon. Let’s get to safe harbor.”

  “We can’t leave.” Exasperation bled through Vera’s voice as her hands fanned outward. “This entryway has to be cleared. The money needs to be counted. I know all of you snipe and snicker behind my back, but I don’t see any of you stepping up to make sure projects like this get done.”