The Potluck Club

by Linda Evans Shepherd; Eva Marie Everson

  Out of all of us, Vonnie had made the biggest changes. I knew things with Fred were still tenuous, but I also knew she and her son—long-lost David Harris—were getting to know one another on a daily basis, mostly through phone calls.

  Not everyone in town knew the truth about the “missing Jewel,” but Vonnie’s closest friends—the Potluck Club—knew . . . and we loved her in spite of it and because of it.

  As we gathered in the living room I asked Lizzie, “What’s new with Jan?”

  Lizzie nodded as she sat, sliding the palms of her hands down the front of her slacks and then allowing them to rest on her knees. “Not so good. She’s back at the hospital. Went in about 3:00 this morning. She’s just so weak, and I’m not sure that she can hold on much longer.” Lizzie pressed her lips together. “To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure she wishes to. She seems perfectly content to either live or die. She says that either way, it’s all for him.” Lizzie pointed upward with her index finger.

  No one spoke for a moment; we just allowed what she’d said to be taken in by our spiritual hearts and minds, until Leigh asked, “What time is it?”

  Donna gave her the time.

  “Well,” I said, “I for one feel better about the whole living and dying thing.”

  “How’s that?” Vonnie asked, though she already knew the answer. Maybe she just didn’t realize she knew the answer, I don’t know, but I’d told her one afternoon as we shared a cup of coffee and our innermost thoughts.

  “About three weeks ago I went to the cemetery.”

  “You did what?” Lizzie asked.

  I raised a hand. “I know. It’s the one place you’d rarely find me before . . .” I squirmed a bit. “Before Jan. But I have to tell you that her illness has caused me great distress. Not only because we might lose her to heaven but also because I had to finally come face to face with my anger over Ruth Ann’s death. I blamed God for taking her, and Ruth Ann for actually dying.” I took a deep breath. “Then I went out to All Saints and had myself a good, old-fashioned chat with her.”

  “Who?” Donna asked.

  I looked at her as sweetly as I knew how. “Ruth Ann.” I raised my brow. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy, Donna Vesey. Sometimes we just have to talk it all out to get to the truth.”

  Donna opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then closed it.

  “I think it’s wonderful,” Lizzie said.

  “Me too,” Goldie said, then laughed. “You know, Olivia said to me that I don’t pray to God but rather I whine to him.” She shook her head sadly. “She was right. But no more! Now I tell God what’s on my heart. I want to truly rejoice in the Lord always—”

  “Amen!” we all said.

  “And again I say rejoice!” Goldie finished. We all had a good laugh over that.

  “So how do we pray today?” I asked when our laughter subsided. Nearby, Leigh let out a pent-up breath. I looked over at her, but she shook her head as if to dismiss me.

  “What time is it?” she asked. When she noted our quizzical expressions, she said, “Sorry. Time feels like it’s dragging today, you know what I’m saying?”

  “I know what you’re saying,” Donna replied, then looked at her watch and told her. A whole five minutes had passed since the last time she’d asked.

  “Prayer?” I inquired again, readying my pad and pen.

  “Pray for Olivia’s pregnancy,” Goldie said. “And for Jack. And for Charlene Hopefield. God knows she needs it . . . and I really mean that.”

  From next to her, Lizzie smiled at Goldie, then patted her on the shoulder.

  “Lizzie?” I asked.

  “Pray for Jan.” We all nodded as I jotted Jan’s name down. “And for Tim. I don’t know what, but I feel that something is up in Baton Rouge. Oh, and pray for Michelle. She’s dating someone from work and seems to be quite happy about it, but a mother worries . . .”

  I took note, then turned. “Donna?”

  Though she rarely had a prayer request, this time Donna said, “Just pray God will give me the answers I’m looking for.”

  “Amen,” Vonnie whispered.

  “Von?”

  “Well, of course pray for the changes going on in my life. I’ve got a lot of issues to deal with, as you know. At some point David and I will need to let it be known to the community at large that I’m his mother. If we can just keep Clay Whitefield off our trail long enough to make some decisions . . .”

  I looked up at Donna, who gave me a “What?” look.

  “We’re all rooting for you,” Goldie said, then shifted her gaze to the outside window. I wondered what had diverted her attention.

  “Lisa Leann?” I asked.

  Lisa Leann sat up straight. “Pray for my new business! I don’t know when I’ve been this excited about anything, I just want it all to glorify God, and I’m as serious as a heart attack when I say that.” “Leigh, do you have any prayer requests?”

  Leigh took a breath, paused, then took another one. “What time is it now?” she asked.

  “For heaven’s sake,” Donna said, looking down to her watch. “It’s five minutes since the last time you asked and ten minutes since the first time you asked.”

  Every woman in the room suddenly jumped.

  “When did they start?” Lizzie asked.

  “Are you hurting in your lower back?” Goldie asked.

  “Your water hasn’t broken, has it?” Lisa Leann piped in, to which I looked down at my mother’s wool carpets in horror.

  “Not too long ago, a little, and no,” Leigh answered.

  “Do I need to call an ambulance?” Donna piped in.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “We can take my Bronco, then. I’ll use the lights if I have to.” Donna turned for the front door.

  “I’ll get your suitcase,” I told Leigh, touching the crown of her head with my hand. Deep down—where no one could see it—my soul was grinning from ear to ear. My baby girl—the daughter of my heart—was about to bring a new life into the world. It was such a marvelous thought, soured only by the sudden reminder that I would need to call Peggy and Matthew as soon as we reached the hospital.

  It was the right thing to do.

  When I returned to the foyer, the front door was open, and my five prayer partners stood around my niece. Instead of the clucking hens they’d all been when I’d left, they were silent and dumbfounded.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, then noted the young man standing on the other side of the threshold. He was six foot six and looked like a Ken doll. There was only one person this could be, and I suppose it was appropriate that he show up now of all times.

  I pushed past the crowd. “You must be Gary,” I said.

  He looked down at me and smiled. “I am.” Then, over to Leigh, the woman who was about to give birth to his child. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m in labor,” she said. “I’ll ask again: what are you doing here?” Gary put his hand to his chest. “I came to be with you. I figured we’d wait out the baby’s arrival together.” His voice raised an octave. “Is it normal for babies to be born on their due date?”

  Vonnie took a step forward. “Not normal, but it happens. Come on, girls. Let’s get moving.”

  Donna ran up from the outside. A flurry of snow had begun to fall, and the flakes of it lay on her uniform jacket she’d obviously pulled out of the Bronco. “Ready?” she asked Leigh. “The Bronco’s warming up, and I’ve already called in to the hospital.”

  With the help of Lisa Leann on one arm and Lizzie on the other, she took a step forward, Donna reaching for her.

  “Hold on a minute,” I said, shifting the suitcase from one hand to the other. I looked up at the man who’d come so far and just in time. “Let the father walk the mother to the car.” I looked over at Leigh. “Okay?”

  Leigh only nodded. Gary reached for her, supporting her weight by clasping her elbow and walking alongside her.

  I rode shotgun in the f
ront seat of the Bronco while Gary and Leigh rode in the back. With the blue light whirring atop the car (but, at Leigh’s request, no siren), and snow bouncing against the hood and windshield of the car, Leigh did a lot of breathing she’d learned at the childbirth classes she’d taken before coming to Summit View. Gary said stupid male things like, “Does it hurt?” and “Do you need anything?”

  “What are you doing here?” Leigh asked him, apparently for the third time.

  “I wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

  Leigh gritted her teeth. “Don’t call me sweetheart!” She let out what sounded like a growl. “And why didn’t you call me last night?”

  “I . . . I was on my way here.”

  “Traveling by foot, were you?” Donna asked.

  I cut a don’t-get-involved look her way, although I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

  “I was struggling with it, okay? I’ve had a lot to think about . . . a lot to do.”

  “Ohmigooooooosh,” Leigh said. “What time is it now?”

  Donna looked at the digital clock on the dashboard. “You’re still at five minutes, Leigh.”

  “Is it supposed to hurt like this?” Gary asked again. I flipped the visor down so I could see him in the rearview mirror. His eyes met mine, and I gave him my best are-you-an-idiot-or-just-plain-stupid look. I think he caught my drift. I also noticed Leigh had clasped his hand and was squeezing as she huff-huff-huffed.

  “Like what?” Leigh asked when her contraction had subsided. “Like what did you have to do?”

  I kept my focus on the backseat. Gary reached into the pocket of his jeans with his free hand and extracted what appeared to be a ring box. Again, my soul smiled.

  “Like this,” he said, flipping it open. Both Donna and I turned in our seats.

  The Bronco swerved, causing Donna to resume her focus on driving. I, however, kept my eyes on the rear of the car.

  Leigh threw her head back. “You would pick now to do this. What’s changed, Gary?”

  “Me,” he said. “I’ve changed. I love you, Leigh.” He darted a look to me, then back to my niece. “Who is that woman?” he whispered.

  “My aunt Evie,” Leigh answered.

  “Oh.” He turned to me. “Hello, Aunt Evie. I’m Gary.”

  I squared my shoulders. “Well, I sincerely hope so.”

  He looked perplexed.

  “Almost there, Leigh,” Donna said, taking the turn into the hospital’s entryway. I had to hold on to the side of my seat to keep from falling over. I could see the others in their cars following along behind us.

  “Good,” she grunted out.

  “Marry me, Leigh. Marry me before the baby is born.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Donna, Leigh, and I said in unison.

  “Okay, then,” he said, looking sheepish. “At least say you will before the baby is born.”

  “What’s different, Gary?” Leigh asked again as Donna halted the Bronco, jerking me nearly into the floorboard.

  Donna got out of the car and headed for the emergency room doors. An orderly pushing a wheelchair came out, followed by Vernon. “Dad! What are you doing here?” Donna exclaimed.

  “I heard the call,” I heard him answer. He looked over at me, and I smiled. He smiled back. “How are you doing, Evie-girl?”

  “Dad, Leigh’s the one in labor!”

  Gary was talking while opening his door for himself and Leigh. “I met with your pastor. I’m joining the church.”

  “You’re doing what?” Leigh asked as she settled herself in the wheelchair. “You think that’s it? Joining the church?” The orderly began pushing her toward the open ER door and Donna Vesey.

  Gary walked beside Leigh and spread his arms wide while still holding on to the ring box and ring. “No! I’ve given my life to God, Leigh. I have!”

  Leigh let out another growl. “Arrrrrrrgggggghhhhh! What time is it now?” Her voice was swallowed by the closing of the automatic sliding doors.

  Vernon came up beside the Bronco, reached inside the back for the suitcase, then leaned up to kiss me. “Getting out, or are you just going to sit here the rest of the afternoon?”

  I realized then that I hadn’t moved. I opened the door and climbed out. “This is almost too much for one day,” I muttered. From a distance I could see the other Potluckers dashing up from the parking lot.

  Vernon laughed. “Come on, Evie-girl. Let’s go welcome a new life into the world.”

  I looped my hand into the crook of his arm. “I’m all for that,” I said with a smile.

  Faith Alexis arrived at 4:43 that afternoon. Gary and Leigh were all tears and smiles, and Leigh wore a beautiful diamond on her left ring finger. In the crook of her right arm lay Faith, and Gary stood by Leigh’s side, which he’d not left during labor.

  “Have you called your mother?” I asked Leigh.

  She nodded. “She said you called after we got here. Thank you.” She dipped her head to kiss the top of Baby Faith’s head.

  “They’re flying out with my parents first thing tomorrow,” Gary informed me, sitting at the right side of the bed.

  “That’s good. I insist they all stay at the house. You too, young man.” Leigh closed her eyes, and I could tell it was more in contentment than exhaustion. Still, I felt it best for the new family to be alone. “I’m going to leave you three alone for a while,” I said.

  Leigh’s eyes opened again. “Where are the rest of the girls?”

  “Oh, they’re still outside in the waiting area, waiting to get my report. They saw the baby earlier, right after she was born. But they’ve elected to hang around.” I lowered my eyes a bit. “We also visited with Jan for a minute or two, but she’s really not up for a lot of company.”

  Leigh sighed deeply. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  I reached down and pinched her toes under the blanket. “Don’t you think about it too much. You just enjoy these moments as a new mother.”

  “I will,” she said, looking at Gary, who leaned over and pecked her on the lips.

  I smiled at the three of them, thinking that life—right now—felt pretty good.

  Hours later I stood at the nursery windowpane, looking in at my great-niece. There were three other babies there too, but (and I say this with all honesty) they were not nearly as precious as Baby Faith. I tapped on the window periodically, making those ridiculous sounds adults make when they think they’re entertaining newborns.

  Baby Faith neither acknowledged nor ignored me; she merely rested peacefully in her new, albeit temporary, home. Soon she would be in her own home, where she would be nurtured and could grow to be beautiful and healthy.

  I closed my eyes, both happy and tired, and rested my forehead against the glass. I’d spoken to Peggy earlier, told her to plan to stay at the house—Gary’s family too. She’d accepted. I told her there was something I wanted to tell her when she got here, but she wormed it out of me like she always does.

  “I’m dating someone,” I said.

  “Who?” The sound of her voice was full of disbelief.

  “Vernon Vesey.”

  “Vernon Vesey! After all these years?”

  “Don’t make a big deal about it,” I said, pleading with her like I’d done when we were children and I’d told her about our one and only kiss . . . until now . . .

  She promised she wouldn’t, and then we said our good-byes.

  It would be nice to have a houseful, I thought, then began to mentally check off everything I needed to do between now and then.

  “Which one is she?”

  I heard the voice behind me, and I jumped. Turning, I saw Pastor Kevin. He looked as though he’d aged ten years, if not ten years and a day, since the last time I’d seen him, which was only a few days ago. My “conversation” with Ruth Ann had led me to take time nearly every day to drop by the Moores’ home—even if only to wash some dishes or dust the furniture for Jan or her daughter.

  I turned back to the window. “Second fr
om the left,” I said, pointing. “Wrapped in pink.”

  “How precious,” he said. I felt his hand slip along the top of my back and then rest on my shoulder. We stood silently, side by side, peering through a Plexiglas window at four new lives with so much ahead of them. God only knows what heartaches and joys will come their way, I thought.

  “Life is a strange cycle, isn’t it?” I said.

  “That it is, Evangeline,” Pastor Kevin said, squeezing my shoulder.

  “How is Jan?” I asked.

  Pastor Kevin was quiet for a long moment. Then he answered, “The battle is over. God won.”

  Unable to do anything, I continued to look straight ahead. Baby Faith squirmed, and for a moment I thought she was about to cry. Just as quickly, though, she calmed, drifting into sleep.

  The Potluck Club Recipes

  Brown Rice

  1 can beef bouillon soup

  1 can onion soup

  1 cup rice

  1 small can mushrooms or fresh cut-up mushrooms

  2–3 pats of butter or margarine

  Pour together in a greased casserole dish . . . you know, like Corningware. Put pats of butter on top. Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour, covered.

  Serves 4–6.

  Evangline’s Cook’s Notes

  If you can’t make this dish, you can’t boil water.

  Best Oven-Barbecued Brisket

  5–6 pounds brisket (or a 3–4 pound eye of round roast)

  1 bottle liquid smoke

  garlic salt

  onion salt

  seasoned salt

  1 tablespoon flour

  1 oven bag

  1 bottle barbecue sauce (onion flavored)

  ½ cup mild picante sauce

  Trim fat from brisket. Soak brisket all night in 1 bottle of liquid smoke. The next day, season meat with garlic, onion, and seasoned salt. Put flour in oven bag and shake. Place meat and liquid smoke in flour-coated bag. Put bag into 2-inch deep baking dish. Place dish in 400 degree oven for approximately 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 200 degrees and cook 10–12 hours. Allow meat to cool in its own juice.