by Rita Kano
Sue Bell’s silent answer was a frown line as big as a waxy red crayon.
Arlene looked at her papa. “Look what you’ve done. Now what you got to say for yourself? You got a sucker in your pocket to fix this?”
“Oh, come on Arlene,” exclaimed Joe. “He didn’t have no way of knowin’ how tadpole would take what he said.”
“Well, he should’ve thought.”
“Ain’t you just makin’ things worse by carryin’ on about it?” Joe asked.
Arlene pooched her lips, tightened her crossed arms and got real still… for about three seconds. Then one eyebrow arched.
“You went by the graveyard on your way here, didn’t you Lizzie? You and Miss Shirley and your grandpa came here by way of the graveyard after I told you not to. I didn’t think I heard a car pull up. You did what I told you not to. Didn’t you?”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” said Lizzie. “I forgot. I forgot what you said.”
“You forgot. How many times you expect the same excuse to work?”
“Whenever I forget,” answered Lizzie.
“A good switchin’… that’s what you need,” said Lizzie’s mama.
“No, she doesn’t,” snapped Joe. “That child won’t be gettin’ a switching for forgettin’ and that’s all there is to it.”
“It’s not for forgettin’. It’s for making excuses.”
“I’ve said all I’m going to,” said Joe. “Might it be possible you can let me finish my supper in peace?”
It seemed like hours passed without a spoken word, when in fact only minutes went by before Lizzie chimed out over the sound of spoons scraping second helpings and ice cubes tinkling.
“Grandpa, you sure must be happy.”
“What do you mean, honey bun?”
A broad smile exposed her missing tooth. “Time sure ain’t in a hurry now.”
Arlene put her fork down with a delicate twist of her wrist. She was an exceptionally slow eater and had hardly touched her food. Suddenly the same bright look shone on her face that Shirley saw earlier in the day when Arlene looked out the kitchen window beaming like she had just seen the end of a rainbow and found a pot of gold.
“So, Papa,” she said to Nash, “what’s this you told Lizzie about seein’ an angel? Did you tell Miss Shirley about it, too?”
“No. Wasn’t nothin’ to tell,” answered Nash.
“Nothin’?” said Arlene. “You have noticed Lizzie believes every word you say, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” said Nash. “She’s a good listener.”
“Too good a listener, if you ask me. I want you to stop fillin’ her head with nonsense,” said Arlene.
“I think Lizzie can decide for herself what’s nonsense and what’s not,” Nash bit back. “At least, I hope it ain’t too late.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a smart woman, Arlene. I guess you can figure it out for yourself.”
Shirley didn’t know much of anything about the Lovett family, but she recognized the expression that came over Arlene’s face that sharp split second. When Arlene started the angel talk, she thought she was going to be the jumping spider in the conversation; instead she turned out to be the fly caught in its web.
Joe slapped one hand against the table. “Okay. That’s enough out of both of you. I mean it. I’ve heard an ample plenty.” He looked directly at his wife. “There’s no way any of this is as earth shatterin’ as you’re making it out to be.”
Then he turned to Lizzie. “Lizzie, look at me. I’m goin’ to ask you a question and I want an honest and true answer… nothing pulled out of your imagination. You understand?”
“I understand, Daddy,” said Lizzie, nodding.
“Good. Okay, then. Have you ever seen an angel?” Joe asked his daughter.
“No,” said Lizzie. “But grandpa says…”
“No. No, Lizzie. I don’t want to hear what grandpa says. Tell me what you know. Have you ever seen an angel?”
“No,” answered Lizzie.
“Well, then,” said her daddy, “what makes you think your grandpa saw one. Think about what I’m asking you real careful like. Do you believe your grandpa saw an angel?”
“I sure do,” blurted Lizzie. “Grandpa said so. He sees lots of things other people don’t see. Go ahead, Grandpa, tell them. Tell mama and daddy what you saw. Tell them it’s true. You gotta tell them Grandpa. Tell them what you saw.”
“There. You see, Joe. You see,” said Arlene. “You thought I was makin’ mountains out of molehills? Well, I’m not. You see how crazy this is?”
“Humm,” Joe scratched his chin.
The Lovett dining room got all stuffy, itchy and creepy feeling again.
Arlene seemed to be waiting for Joe to do an about face and come to her defense, but he didn’t. He simply leaned back, sipped his iced tea and stared off somewhere distant, like everybody in the room had suddenly gone and disappeared, just the way Lizzie had described it.
“Lizzie,” said Arlene, “go to your room. Your daddy’s goin’ to have a little talk with grandpa.”
“Uh-uh,” replied Joe. Several rapid blinks brought him back to the moment. “I’ve got nothin’ more to say. I’m done with both your nonsense.”
Lizzie started sliding off her chair anyway, but her grandpa put his hand out and stopped her.
“Don’t you hear anything Lizzie says?” asked Nash. “She just wants you to listen. Listen to her. Listen to me.” Nash motioned toward Shirley. “Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if Miss Shirley here had something to say if anybody was polite enough to show some interest. Why don’t you listen to anybody? What’s the harm in it?”
“I heard what Lizzie said.” Arlene spoke with pinched tight lips. “I listen to her every day that goes by. In that regard, I don’t have any idea what you’re talkin’ about. And as far as our uninvited guest goes…”
“How about you?” Nash interrupted Arlene and pinpointed Joe. “How about you, Joe. Will you listen? How about right now?” Nash rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. “Startin’ now.”
“I’ve got chores to do and they won’t wait ‘til mornin’ I’m afraid.”
“Yeah,” said Nash. “Maybe you are.”
“Maybe I’m what? What you trying to say, ‘ol man?” Joe leaned across the table toward Grandpa Nash.
“I’m not trying to say anything. What I’m saying is… maybe you are afraid.”
“Afraid? Afraid of what?” said Arlene and Joe in a shared breath.
“Speak your mind, Nash,” encouraged Joe. “I’m real interested in knowing what I’m afraid of.”
Nash pushed away from the table. “Wouldn’t do any good to tell you.”
“You’re right about that. Cause there ain’t nothing to say.” Joe stabbed his last piece of meatloaf and shoved it into his mouth.
Arlene puffed out a humph and shook her head.
Joe raised both eyebrows and shook his head, too.
“All that head shaking ain’t goin’ to make me go away or stop me from seeing what I see,” said Nash. “You are afraid. Both of you are. But what I don’t know is… are you afraid you won’t ever see an angel, or are you afraid you will?”
Arlene and Joe locked onto each other’s eyes. From Lizzie and Sue Bell’s wide-eyed stare, Shirley suspected it had been a long time since their mama and daddy had done that.
“I’m ready for dessert,” said Joe, dropping the obviously awkward connection between him and Arlene. He turned toward Lizzie. “Okay. Enough is enough. I ain’t ever seen an angel. Never have. Never will. You hear me and you hear me good. I don’t want no more talk about angels. Do you understand me?”
“Shouldn’t be no surprise if she don’t hear you,” said Nash. “You don’t hear her.”
Well, that did it. Seemed there wasn’t much Joe hated more than being told he didn’t practice what he preached. He pushed back in his chair and wound his arms in a tight knot across his chest. “Okay, Nash.
I’m listenin’. Reckon there ain’t anything you can say that I can’t handle. Let’s hear what you’ve got to say about angels. I don’t expect it can take very long. Reckon I can spare ten to twenty seconds.”
Arlene, having left the room for desert saucers, put them down in front of everybody. As she placed Shirley’s on the table, she mumbled something her uninvited guest couldn’t quite make out.
Lizzie cut into her slice of chocolate layer cake, smiled at her mama and daddy and then at her grandpa and finally at Shirley. Only Nash and Shirley smiled back.
“What are you waiting for, Grandpa?” said Lizzie. “Tell us about the angel you saw. Deddy wants to hear you tell it.”
“Let’s be clear on one thing,” said Joe, halting a forkful of cake an inch beyond his mouth. “I said I would listen… not that I wanted to hear it.”
Forks clinked against saucers as Nash sliced his eyes toward Joe and drew a breath that shoved his shoulders high and back. After looking out the window for a couple of seconds, he scanned over everybody sitting around the table. With a surrender-like shake of his head, he said “There ain’t anything to tell.”
“But, Grandpa,” Lizzie exclaimed, with her mouth iced in chocolate frosting.
Grandpa Nash patted Lizzie on the head and then with one finger, pushed up on her chin to close her mouth. “Sorry, sugar baby, it ain’t the right time after all.”
Chapter 4
The Secret in the Blue Mason Jar
Nash refused a ride back to the house, so Joe offered the use of a flashlight for the walk. Although a full moon lit up the night pretty well, Joe recounted a story of almost stepping on a cottonmouth lying in his path a few nights before. Nash said he could see just fine by the light of the moon, but for Miss Shirley’s comfort he’d take the kerosene lantern back that Joe borrowed from him a few months earlier.
Nash and Shirley walked for about ten yards along the road in silence when Nash said, “I sincerely apologize for my family’s rudeness.”
“Mr. Nash… no apology is necessary,” said Shirley. “I would never hold you accountable for the behavior of your daughter and son-in-law.”
“But, you misunderstand, Miss Shirley. I’m apologizing for subjectin’ you to their rudeness… knowin’ how it was goin’ to be.”
“I see,” said Shirley, withholding the fact that she already knew perfectly well what Nash had been up to.
“I’m hopin’ you do. Somethin’s wrong in that family and I’m mighty worried about them, especially those two little granddaughters of mine. And you bein’ a professional, educated woman, I… well, I hoped…” Nash’s words trailed off behind them as the lantern light swayed and bobbed, animating the shadows on the road and nests of darkness between the scrub brush and pine trees.
“Mr. Britt, I’ve been in social work long enough to recognize the signs of trouble back there, but the cure Arlene and Joe need is way outside my range of expertise. As long as the children aren’t being neglected or abused, there’s nothing I can do. Unless…” Shirley stopped to face Nash directly, “is there anything more going on? I mean, other than an unhappy relationship? Something you’re not sure you want to tell me? I noticed your concern for Sue Bell, especially.”
Nash wrapped one hand around Shirley’s upper arm and resumed their walk. “My little tadpole’s changed in the last month or so. She don’t say much at all. Hard as I’ve tried, I can’t make out what’s going on with her. Which is my sorry way of saying, you’ve seen as much as I know.”
“You’re being awfully harsh on yourself. Chances are there’s nothing to be concerned about. Children go through stages. It’s been my experience that most changes appear to be much more mysterious than they really are.” Shirley felt the warmth of Nash’s arm twined around hers. “In another month’s time she’ll be moved on to something else and you’ll be scratching your head for new answers. Don’t you think so? All families go through rough patches. I feel certain, at least, fairly certain there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“I do appreciate your comforting words, Miss Shirley. But, just the same, if you’d be so kind as to think on it some more, I’d be real grateful. Somethin’ tells me there’s a whole lot more to you than meets the eye right off and not only that…” Nash’s hand stroked Shirley’s arm. “I think you’re being way too modest about the range of your expertise.”
“Mr. Nash, are you practicing being a prince charming, again?”
Nash chuckled, “Yeah. Better keep your distance so no rust stains get on that pretty flowered dress you’re wearing. And by the way, no angel in heaven could look more beautiful than you tonight, Miss Shirley.”
Shirley, gratefully relieved the moonlight wasn’t bright enough for Nash to see her blush turned hot, really didn’t know how to interpret the giddiness she felt. A quick thank you and change of subject appeared the best approach. “Speaking of angels…” Shirley pushed back a strand of hair the night breeze kept blowing across her face, “have you really seen one… an angel?”
“I thought I had ‘til I saw you.”
Shirley stared down at the road, aware of the warmth radiating from the sand and her heart, knowing full well she wasn’t the least bit prepared to look Nash in the eye. “I’m not going to get a straight answer out of you, am I, Mr. Britt?”
“Maybe you will, when we’ve known each other a mite longer.”
“Is that a back door sort of invitation?” queried Shirley, eagerly inviting more reasons to blush despite the racing panic in her heart.
Nash slowed his pace and held the lantern out in front of them at arm’s length; long enough to reveal in his eyes the words his lips couldn’t manage to speak. “Since I didn’t feel the sting of your hand across my face for being so bold, I reckon it is. But it’s gonna take some time for me to rustle up the nerve to talk about any particulars.”
Shirley returned Nash’s modest smile. She concealed the bursts of giddiness flitting around inside her like spring butterflies, barely managing to contain them within a net of perfectly sound doubts. After an appropriate pause, she brought up her concerns about Martha Ann, again.
“I just don’t know what to tell you that might be of help, Miss Shirley. Although I truly do appreciate you wantin’ to be of assistance and goin’ so far out of your way to do it. That tells me a lot about you. It surely does. It tells me a lot.”
Shirley smiled, again. Not out of courtesy or politeness or for any other reason socializing often forced upon her. She just liked the things Nash said and the way he said them. Each and every word rang with sincerity, vibrating through her like the echo of a crystal bell. And as one after another strange and unfamiliar feeling began piling up inside her, Shirley realized she had no idea what she was going to do with them.
“Are you a church goin’ lady?” Nash had barely asked the question when he pulled Shirley tight against him and lowered the lantern. One arm wrapped securely around her, restraining her movement.
The relentless chirp of crickets and croaking frogs accompanied Shirley’s panicked breath.
“I’m sorry, Miss Shirley. Nash released his embrace. “Sorry if I scared you. I thought I saw a rattlesnake in the road. Wasn’t nothing but the wind blowing against a dry tree branch.”
A few steps along, Shirley regained her composure and Nash repeated his question about her being a church going lady.
“No,” she said as she wondered how religion had worked its way into the conversation. “I’m not a church goer. The Bible isn’t something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about.”
“Is that right? Don’t know how you managed to side step it, being there’s a church around almost every corner you turn. Probably just as well, though,” said Nash. “You don’t strike me as the sort to take anybody’s word for anything. So, that being the case, I suppose you ain’t plannin’ on attendin’ the revival meeting tomorrow night.”
“Revival? I didn’t know there was one in town. Is tomorrow the first night?”
“Are you telling me Martha Ann expected you to be at the revival?”
“Yes’m, me and her together. Like I said, but I didn’t go. Couldn’t have got no good out of the preaching not knowin’ where she was.”
“Without a doubt, of course you couldn’t, Nash. But I … I don’t know, I’m thinking maybe the revival was exactly the place you needed to be.”
“What’s that? Are you saying Martha Ann might have gone to the revival expecting she’d find me there?”
“Yes, I am. I see that as a very strong possibility. If Martha Ann’s plans went wrong and she couldn’t get a ride home, she might have thought to meet up with you there. It’s not such a long walk from the Riverside Theater to the fairgrounds.”
“No, it ain’t. But, meet up with me at the revival? I don’t know. No. I don’t think that’s likely, Miss Shirley. She knows to call if I’m expectin’ her home at a certain time.”
“Maybe she tried, Nash. Could you have missed her call?”
“Well, I…” the lantern light trembled as Nash let go of Shirley’s arm and switched the lantern to his other hand. “Yeah, I suppose I could have missed a phone call. Most days I’m in and out of the house, keepin’ check on things, especially the hen house. Hardly a day or night goes by when I don’t hear them chickens squawking and fluttering about. And there ain’t but only one way to know if it’s a crow stealing corn or a fox looking for a chicken dinner.”
“And if she called and you didn’t answer, she might have thought you were already on the way to the revival.”
“I have to say,” Nash shook his head, “that likelihood failed to cross my mind, Miss Shirley. Looking back, I don’t know why it didn’t. But just the same … is that what you think? You think she was there?”
