Fried Chicken and Gravy - Christian Romance

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  The outside of Rosie’s home appeared tidy. The sage green paint looked fresh, the white trim very white. Yellow roses bloomed in the round, front, flower bed. Missy couldn’t picture a tidy person like Rosie married to a mechanic like Daddy.

  At least a half-hour passed before Daddy reappeared in the front doorway. His form looked like an NFL linebacker leaving a concession stand. He strolled across the grass, slid behind the wheel, and turned the key in the ignition. His soft jowls hung around the corner of his mouth as he shifted into drive. For several minutes, he drove in subdued silence.

  “Are you going to tell me?” Missy asked.

  He sighed heavily and cleared his throat. “She talked a lot about Ronnie, her deceased husband. Sounds like he took real good care of her. After he retired from insurance, they had their own candy business, made chocolates and taffy in Seaside, Oregon. After he died, she moved here to be closer to her mom.”

  “And you don’t think she’s interested?”

  “She was honest with me.” Daddy frowned as he watched the road. “Rosie seems to think that we can never get over our first impressions of each other.”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  “I told her I already had and that I now admire her determination. She apparently doesn’t admire mine.” He stared straight ahead and patted the wheel.

  Missy couldn’t help thinking that they both had valid points.

  “I think Rollerhead is probably right,” Daddy said. “I don’t think I want to get over my first impression of her either. I’ve sought her forgiveness twice now, given her two beautiful steelhead, and showered her with praise.” He sighed. “Now it’s time for me to move on and remember one detail about her.”

  “What’s that, Daddy?”

  He bobbed his head back and forth and, in a nasal tone, said, “Plenty of river.”

  Missy laughed. “I don’t think she’s the right woman for you either.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Sunday morning, Daddy sat in the back row on one side of Mrs. Anderson while Rosie sat on the other. Robert and Missy were seated in the same pew as his parents, three rows from the front. Marilee leaned forward and smiled sweetly at her. No white curls were out of place this Sunday. After the congregation sang three hymns, Pastor Norris walked up to the podium. Missy glanced down at Robert’s hand in hers. There were little flecks of white paint near his cuticles. Her heart warmed.

  Her feet weren’t squished and uncomfortable in her new shoes. No knot scored into her back in her new dress as she leaned against the pew. All was right with the world.

  “We can never forget the basics, folks,” Pastor Norris said in his congenial way. “We are all sinners in need of a Savior. We have all separated ourselves at one time or another from our Lord by our thoughts and actions. But like the loving father that He is, He listens when we repent. And He forgives us when we’re sorry because He loves us. He sent us Jesus—His one and only son—to die on the cross for our sins. And whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

  Tears sprung to Missy’s eyes as Pastor Norris’s words hit their mark on her soul. The basis of the Christian faith was the verse she already knew by heart. She recalled the four slips of paper that she’d pinned up everywhere for Daddy. John 3:16.

  I do believe in You, Jesus, my Savior, Missy prayed. Please forgive me for all my sins. Please help me with this step of faith. Tears clouded her vision as her gaze fixed on the cross. Over her shoulder, she searched the back pew for Daddy; his large frame made it easy for her to find him.

  With furrowed brows, Daddy searched her face, and then he must have seen the clarity in her eyes, the radiance she felt exuding from her. The veil had been removed. Eyes unblinking, he raised a closed fist above his head in a silent cheer. She turned back around, hungry for each word.

  “We’re going to Newport this afternoon,” Robert told Missy as they stood out front of the church in the brilliant sunshine. “My great uncle’s health is failing, and time is precious.”

  Marilee smiled softly at her. “We were talking about having you over for Sunday dinner,” she said. “It’ll have to be next Sunday.”

  “If it was a happier occasion, I’d invite you to join us.” Robert retained Missy’s hand as he led her back inside the foyer. An air conditioner hummed nearby; otherwise the entry area was quiet. Robert stood beside a wooden rack of pamphlets and brochures and searched her eyes.

  “Did you accept Christ today, Missy?”

  “Yes.” She met his steady gaze. “It made complete sense to my heart.”

  A sheen filled his eyes, and then he blinked softly.

  Sometimes beautiful words weren’t necessary. Sometimes a person has so much love in their eyes that one just has to linger in the moment, remembering every shiny detail. Robert was happy for her and, without a doubt, she knew he loved her.

  “Did you have a tingling?” Daddy patted the steering wheel and glanced across the cab at Missy.

  “No, it was more a feeling of surrender, of peace.”

  “I’m so happy, honey. You don’t know how happy.” Daddy swallowed emotion and focused on the road.

  She looked out the window at the passing countryside. They’d only been to church an hour and a half out of their day, but she felt forever changed, renewed. Jesus’ love, the gem of joy, could never be taken from her.

  CHAPTER 48

  Tuesday morning while the temperature was still cool, Missy went grocery shopping at Ziegler’s in Vancouver. At the top of her list was Hungry-Man TV dinners. She bought six for the freezer: three Salisbury steak, and three classic fried chicken. Cabbage rolls sounded good again, but she couldn’t make them for dinner; Robert was coming. While she stood in the frozen food aisle, she pulled Bertha’s cookbook out of her purse and flipped through it.

  A woman with loose, thick, gray hair, several inches past her shoulders, opened the nearby freezer case and took out Swanson pot pies. When she turned around, Missy saw that it was Jean Baker. She’d lost so much weight that she looked younger than Missy ever remembered seeing her. They stared at each other before hugging and laughing.

  “Your father said you were getting to be a better cook. He didn’t tell me you’d resorted to TV Dinners.” Jean motioned toward Missy’s cart.

  “I go to a church function on Thursday nights. These are so the guys have something to eat while I’m gone.”

  “Oh, is your whole family going to church?”

  “Daddy and me.” Missy nodded.

  “That’s so good to hear. I’ve always thought John was someone the Lord might grab a hold of.”

  “Are you a Christian, Jean?”

  She nodded. “My family always went to church when I was growing up. Rick never wanted to go, and I always felt so alone going without him. Did I answer your question? Yes, I am, Missy.” Jean rolled her cart a few feet away. “Tell your dad and Douglas hello from me,” she said over her shoulder.

  Missy stayed in the middle of the aisle and couldn’t shake the impulse to call after her. “Jean, I’m making Mama’s fried chicken and oven fries tonight for dinner. Come over.”

  Jean straightened her arms out in front of her, and stopped her cart from rolling.

  “It’s kind of last minute and I always like to bring something.”

  “Daddy still raves about your green pistachio salad. We went to a potluck awhile back and he was searching the tables for it.”

  “You’re kidding!” Jean laughed. “Highway Salad’s so easy, you can almost whip it up while you’re driving.” She appeared thoughtful. “What time?”

  Should she tell Daddy that Jean was coming or leave it as a surprise? What if Jean didn’t come? Would he be disappointed? Would it be better to let him be disappointed than surprised? She decided not to tell him.

  After the lunch dishes were done, she set out the silverware early in case there were interruptions. The table didn’t look quite pretty enough for female company. She carried a small pair o
f scissors outside. Near the front walk, the black-eyed susans were in bloom. She snipped the bright gold flowers with their velvet black centers, added water to a glass milk bottle, and set the bouquet in the middle of the table.

  At five-fifteen, Missy started watching the window for Jean. Robert was helping Daddy and Douglas clean up shop. Five twenty-five rolled around. Missy glanced at the table. If she brought the extra chair back into the living room, Daddy would never have to know that Jean had been invited. The crunch of gravel as a vehicle drove up near the house halted Missy’s fears.

  Jean had obviously traded in her old Lincoln Continental for a simpler, more economical two-door Chevy coupe. It would be easier on the pocketbook with the recent gas crunch.

  Missy held the screen door open while Jean carried in a silver salad bowl covered with Saran Wrap and set it on the table. She unsaddled a large leather purse from her shoulder. Her shiny, gray hair was fastened with a silver clip in back.

  “I feel kind of funny coming here without Rick.” Jean’s green eyes sparkled with a nervous energy.

  “Tonight will be like the old days—just without him,” Missy said, hoping she was right. The kitchen had always been filled with laughter and stories. Rick and Jean had been good about both.

  “It’s close enough to dinnertime that we can keep the salad on the table,” Missy said, finding a serving spoon.

  “That’s great. I’ll go freshen up a bit. I came straight from work.” Jean stepped toward the living room.

  “Oh, where do you work?”

  “I work part-time for a distributor off of Fourth Plain. Small family business.” Her voice carried down the hallway.

  The front door swung open, and the men came in. Robert was the first to wash his hands at the sink.

  “Who’s here?” Douglas asked, looking at the bouquet and the salad bowl.

  Missy set her forefinger over her lips while Daddy washed his hands with his back now to the room.

  “Whose Chevy?” Daddy asked, looking out the window.

  “Uh... I dunno.” Missy said. “Robert, can you put the ketchup on the table for me?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Well, they weren’t in the shop.” Daddy dried his hands on a terry cloth towel and turned to survey the table. He eyed the large bowl on the table, stepped closer, and lifted back the Saran Wrap.

  “That’s not what I think it is? Is it, doll?” he said loudly.

  Missy curled her toes. Down the hallway, the bathroom door clicked open.

  Daddy looked out the kitchen window again at the Chevy Coupe. “That’s not Jean’s salad?” He turned back around and there in the living room doorway stood Jean.

  “You know me, John,” she said, turning strawberry red. “I never like to show up empty-handed.”

  “It’s about time.” Daddy wore the widest grin.

  Jean sat where Missy usually did, while Missy sat on the same side of the table as Robert, which would be nice for holding hands.

  Daddy said a sweet prayer.

  “Jean, you look twenty years younger,” Douglas said.

  “I didn’t feel like eating there for a while. And let me tell you, the weight falls off when you don’t eat.”

  “You look like a bean pole,” Daddy said. “Here, you need some of this salad.” He scooped a spoonful of pistachio green Highway Salad and plopped it on her plate.

  Jean’s laugh almost sounded poetic. Missy had missed female laughter in her sparkling clean, but outdated, kitchen.

  “Anything new in this family?” Jean’s gaze lingered on Robert.

  Missy briefly squeezed Robert’s hand beneath the table.

  “This is the first time Missy’s made her Mama’s fried chicken. Tastes just like it, doll,” Daddy said.

  “It does.” Douglas agreed.

  Missy’s heart warmed. It did taste good.

  “And, this is Robert, our new sales rep, and my fellow.” Missy told Jean.

  “Congratulations. John, what does the new sales rep part mean?”

  “It means your ex-husband and I no longer see eye to eye, either.”

  Jean nodded, thoughtful. “What about you, Douglas? Are you still dating the little waitress?” She took a bite of Highway Salad.

  “Yep.” He popped an oven fry in his mouth.

  Lastly, Jean turned to Daddy. “Anything new with you, John?”

  A soft shade of red crept up his neck and into his wide, baby face. “I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior a few months back.”

  “That’s what Missy said. That’s wonderful! I’ve been going to church again, too.”

  “What church are you attending?” Robert asked.

  “A little Nazarene Church. It’s only a block away from my house; I can walk.” Jean’s attention returned to Daddy. “So . . . nothing else new?”

  “I almost tried to court a gal a while back.” Daddy set down his fork. “It was a case of bad beginnings.”

  “How bad?” Jean smiled and set her hands in her lap.

  Daddy told her everything about how he’d met Mrs. Anderson in the back pew of Felida Community Church and about Pink Rollerhead’s party of three parking in their fishing spot. About Rollerhead saying, River’s big enough for us all; about Rosie being Rollerhead; about bringing dahlias and a steelhead when he apologized.

  Winded and a little tired, Daddy sighed. “After I delivered a second steelhead, I had just finished wrapping the fillets in freezer paper when Rosie proceeds to tell me in a very sweet way that she will never be able to get over her first impression of me.”

  Jean’s eyes widened. “Did she mean the part about you casting at their boat with the lead sinker?”

  Daddy nodded. “I suppose she’s right; first impressions are very important.”

  “One of my first memories of you,” Jean said, softly, “was when we were all fishing the Columbia River, and Phyllis had to go potty, and you couldn’t get her any closer to shore because you’d hit that sand bank.”

  “Lucky it was June. Water was warming up,” Daddy said, grinning.

  “You carried her what must have been sixty or seventy feet to shore.” Jean smiled. “I remember asking Rick, and we were newlyweds at the time, if he would have done that for me.” She paused, looking at the bottle of ketchup. “He said he hoped I never asked.”

  “The man’s a fool.”

  “Too bad that wasn’t Rosie’s first impression of you.” Jean leaned forward, scooped a serving of Highway Salad and plopped it onto Daddy’s plate.

  He smiled at the gesture.

  A warmth spread through Missy. In her own way, Jean was bringing healing to their home. It had been so long since Mama’s real name had been mentioned, so long since good memories had been shared. She smiled at Douglas and saw it, too; his heart basked in the moment.

  “The main reason I found myself interested in Rosie was because her mama is such a sweet, little old lady and because she fished. That was my first impression of Rosie.”

  “Dad, Jean fishes.” Douglas chuckled.

  The color red crept up again into Daddy’s neck and jowls.

  “To be honest, Doug, I haven’t fished in years.” Jean set down her fork and patted at the corner of her mouth with the paper napkin. “Not since the time we all went to the Lewis and took the campers.”

  “That was a great couple days.” Daddy leaned back in his chair. “Fishing was good. We all went early that first morning and limited out.”

  Jean nodded and covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle a laugh. “Remember how we had to keep taking Rick to shore.”

  “He had the runs. Almost filled his pants. Sorry, Robert,” Daddy said. The table was in an uproar and for a moment; even Robert chuckled.

  “Oh, it feels so good to laugh.” Jean wiped at her eyes.

  Robert squeezed Missy’s hand beneath the table. When she met his gaze, he looked at her fondly.

  Even more than Jean, Robert had brought healing to their home. Robert had bro
ught Jesus. She’d have to tell him soon how much she loved him. Did he know?

  CHAPTER 49

  While Missy rotated the tires on her truck in the second bay on Wednesday afternoon, Daddy poked his head into the garage.

  “Someone here to see you, doll.” He nodded toward the driveway.

  Missy wiped her hands on a shop rag and wondered who in the world would be visiting her during work hours. She walked out of the shop into the bright sunlight and saw Gary leaning against the closed tailgate of his El Camino.

  “I’m still not used to not hearing you pull up.” She cupped a hand above her eyes as she approached him. He wore a pair of grungy shorts, a stained white T-shirt and high-top basketball shoes. At first she thought he had a wad of chew, but then he blew a big, pink bubble.

  “How are you and the salesman doing?”

  She waited for him to add something offensive to Robert’s name, but he didn’t.

  “We’re a couple now.”

  Gary inhaled and nodded. “How are you doing?”

  “I . . .” A smile escaped her. “Good.”

  “If you ever need someone to talk to, Missy, you know my number.”

  She briefly met Gary’s gaze and knew that he was telling her more.

  “I recently accepted Jesus as my savior. If you ever want to know more, you know my number too.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  He blew a medium-sized bubble, winked at her, and started toward the driver’s side door. He slid behind the wheel and held his left foot out of the cab while he started the ignition. His fan belt rattled. The engine sounded tired.

  “Sounds like you need a tune-up.” She paused outside his open door.

  “I know.” He looked up at her and blinked softly. “In more ways than one.”