“Well, stay out of his way then. But hey, did you hear that message from your mom? She wants you to bring the blue linen dress when you go down on the twentieth,” Rebecca said.
“Yup. While you’re visiting your family in D.C., I’ll relax at my aunt’s this weekend so I’ll be ready to face the crazies. Sometimes when I’m in a room with all my parents’ friends, I start to feel like I’ve gone back a century or two.”
“Come on, you’d love to go back a century or two,” Rebecca laughed and poured herself more ice water. “Wow, this pizza is hot! I don’t remember it being quite this spicy. Did you change the recipe?”
Shelby frowned, considering her slice. “You know, when I cooked up that chicken I might have added the red pepper flakes twice. I was so mad I’m surprised it’s even edible.”
“Mmm, it’s still good. I’m just going to have to drink a whole pitcher of water. Anyway, Mrs. Putney usually has a good mix of people there, not just the old types. Maybe I should go. I might just meet ‘the one’ and have a big ol’ Southern magnolia wedding.”
“Never! You’ll have your wedding in D.C. with all your relatives. But I can’t see you with a Southern man, anyway.” Shelby cocked her head, appraising her glamorous roommate.
“Because I’m an African American woman from the North? If I can live with you for years on end, why not?”
“Don’t even try to upgrade to a male version of me,” Shelby laughed. “There’s not a Southern man alive who’s going to cook for you, or discuss your Darcy obsession, or let you dress him in this season’s prettiest sandals.”
“True. But I could fake it well enough to get along with the right guy.”
“Not even for five minutes!” Shelby started to clear the table. “You’re perfect just the way you are. The right guy will love you, North or South.”
Rebecca carried the rest of the pizza into the kitchen and got out the aluminum foil. “You know, for someone who doesn’t date a whole lot, you’re sure full of advice.”
“I don’t have a lot of time to goof around. I’m busy enough without dating half the town.”
“But goofing around is fun! There’s no harm in going out on the weekends and some of the people I meet are a great change from my colleagues. They could really care less what journal just accepted my last article. Ross, the guy from that night club over in Oxford, he processes legal claims in a cube farm. He thinks my job is boring.” Rebecca snickered, her perfect lips twisted up in a smirk.
“I don’t like to go out where it’s too loud. What’s the point of spending the evening together and at the end you still don’t really know anything about the other person?”
“But that is the point. If you don’t talk then you don’t argue and it all ends up a great success. Of course, we all know how much you love to argue.”
Shelby put the glasses in the dishwasher and turned in surprise. “I don’t love to argue! I really don’t know how you can say that.”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows and said nothing, letting an eloquent silence hang between them.
“All right, I do argue but it’s not because I love to ruffle feathers. It just makes me upset to hear people spout their ignorance. And they’re as happy as a dead pig in the sunshine to keep on being ignorant.”
“Ew, I hate it when you say that.” Rebecca wrinkled her nose.
“I guess I’m like Darcy then, not really able to make small talk.” Shelby grinned and set the coffee maker for the morning. “That’s it! I’m Darcy and I just need to find my Elizabeth.”
“My friend, you couldn’t handle Elizabeth,” she laughed. “But let’s go try on some outfits so you know what you’re wearing.” She grabbed Shelby’s hand and dragged her unwilling victim from the kitchen.
She let herself be pulled along. With her effortless glamour, perfectly arched brows and flawless complection, Rebecca was the epitome of beauty. There had been a time when Shelby would have throttled a horse to look like her, but that was in the past.
Mostly.
“Oh,” she groaned, “I knew this was coming. At least make sure that I can sit without having to suck in my tummy. Otherwise, I really will be itching for a fight.”
“A person may be proud without being vain.”
-Mary
Chapter Four
Shelby popped a CD into the classic Jaguar’s brand new stereo system and headed out of town. The tense muscles in her shoulders gradually relaxed and a feeling of optimism crept over her. A weekend away, working and cooking at her Aunt Junetta’s, was just what she needed.
“I don’t think the departmental deep freeze can last forever, Sirocco. Finch and his followers have to talk to me eventually. ” She smoothed her kitty’s long, black hair and smiled as she responded with her usual ‘mmmmmrrrrp’. Rebecca made fun of her tendency to talk to the cat, but she was a good listener and it helped clear her thoughts. Plus, she never spilled a secret.
“But it will blow over. So he’s written a bazillion books and tenured at an Ivy league, and I haven’t and I’m... not.”
A shiver went up her spine at the memory of Finch’s face when he called her in to his office. Your position is in jeopardy, he’d said. Was it even possible? A stupid decision, but it wasn’t illegal or immoral or really harmful. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
“As soon as Fielding sees that everyone loves him best, he’ll let it go.” But bullies never let go, the little doubt in the back of her mind whispered.
The two weeks since the day she’d stormed into his class had been an exercise in being ignored. Friends who used to stop to chat, now walked by without a word. When she passed a group of colleagues, little whispers followed her.
Shelby turned up the stereo and tried to forget, at least for a little while, the wreckage she’d left behind.
Flea Bite Creek was famous for its unique name, but no one wanted to live there, not really. The long time residents seemed to have given up the fight against the creeping kudzu, preferring to hack out small plots of grass around their modest homes. One convenience store set at the end of a dreary main street filled with shuttered boutiques was the total shopping experience available unless you wanted to drive to Oxford. Shelby’s parents had one of the few truly beautiful homes, but it was just beyond the city limits, as if it, too, preferred to keep its distance. But Shelby embraced the town whole-heartedly, even the dreary little library with the dark basement for the children’s section. She had spent countless hours there as a child, not minding the spiders that spun webs in corners no one bothered to clean.
In record time, she pulled into the long driveway of her aunt’s ranch style house. Aunt Junetta came out at the sound of the car tires in the driveway.
“Shelby, dear, let’s get you inside and get started on some pies,” she said, a huge smile on her softly wrinkled face.
Shelby breathed in her freesia scented hair, let herself be hugged to within an inch of her life, and felt the ache of tension in the pit of her stomach loosen.
Aunt Junetta had one of the most extensive Southern recipe collections in the county and she wasn’t afraid to use it. The weekend flew by in a flurry of food and conversation, interspersed by long periods of writing on Shelby’s part, and quilting on her aunt’s. Her aunt seemed to sense that something was amiss, but she didn’t press for details. Shelby knew that when she told her about the departmental trouble, Junetta would be there to listen. She just couldn’t face that conversation just yet.
After Sunday church, they settled in to make one last meal together. Preparing the pork medallions, cheese biscuits and collard greens with peach pie for dessert, was like a balm to her wounded pride.
The doorbell rang and Shelby ran to let in their guest.
“It’s so good to see you, honey!” Bessy Arbogast, her aunt’s best friend for forty years, gave Shelby a hug, a kiss, and a quick once-over. “Well now, aren’t you the prettiest thing on this side of the Creek?”
“Don’t let my si
sters hear you,” Shelby warned.
“Hmph. They may be pretty, but they don’t have your sweetness. And that’s what a good man is looking for, let me remind you,” Bessy said, bustling around the kitchen.
After a soul-soothing meal and a few hours of heart-warming conversation, Shelby reluctantly gathered up the dishes. It was only a matter of time before she was headed back to a mess that wasn’t as easily sorted.
“Shelby was just telling me about the article she’s working on, a real mystery.” Her aunt spoke over her shoulder as she filled the sink with hot water. “Tell her about the initials, dear.”
“A woman named Elizabeth Caldwell was rebuilding the schools in the valley here and over Thorny Hollow way, but she never names her main benefactor. There’s a pretty good paper trail all the way up to her, and then in her diaries she just mentioned him with the initials B. J. Seems he really wanted to remain anonymous, but I don’t know why.”
“That so? Those diaries can be real interesting. My great- great grandmother kept one and it’s full of when they forced them to board the Union soldiers. She wasn’t too happy to cook for
all those Yanks,” Bessy said..
“Honey, I don’t know why you don’t just move in here with me and teach at our little college in town. I sure would love having you here all the time.” Aunt Junetta handed Shelby another antique Tennessee Blue Ridge plate to dry, her hands trembling slightly as she held out the heavy china.
“I know, but the community college here doesn’t offer the classes I teach. Also, I’m right on course for tenure right now. If I moved it would get ugly.” She tried to soften her words because she knew her aunt was lonely, widowed ten years and her only son rarely visited even though he only lived a few hours away.
“What’s tenure?” Bessy asked, reaching for a dry dish cloth.
“It’s an important promotion. Like being hired again. You can teach there for seven years and if you’re denied tenure, you have to leave,” Shelby explained.
“Well, if that doesn’t work out, you should definitely move in with Junetta. Just think of all the fun we could have! The Winter Pie Festival is coming up and I bet we could take some top prizes. Georgia-Anne Dodd was ready to spit fire when you wouldn’t give her the recipe for that chocolate bourbon pecan you made last year,” Bessy said, placing the cut crystal drinking glasses back in the simple hardwood kitchen cupboard.
Shelby carefully wiped the front and back of her aunt’s dinner plate. She smiled, but inwardly she shook at the thought of not making tenure. All those years of work, wasted. This is what she was sure God had wanted her to do with her life. How could she leave everything behind to spend her days making pies and quilting? But it won’t happen, she told herself fiercely. Ransom Fielding isn’t important enough to throw out the rising star of the department. Or maybe he was. She sucked in a breath and tried to focus on the conversation at hand.
“You know, this weekend was just heavenly. I made more progress on my article than I have in the last month. Of course, I’ve probably gained more weight than I would have in a month at home! ”
“You’ve got a long way to go before you have to worry about your hips. You just get prettier and prettier each time I see you. Now me, I should have given up on pie a long time ago, but without Mr. Arbogast here to impress...,” Bessy had trailed off with a sad little shrug. Her bright blue eyes clouded with tears.
Aunt Junetta dried her hands and gave Bessy a squeeze. “We miss him, too”, she said quietly. “When my Jimmy went home to Jesus, I thought I would die before I found anything good in the world again. But he wouldn’t have wanted me to sit and mope. So, I got myself back up that spring and started canning right on schedule. Did me a world of good.”
Bessy’s lip trembled a bit but she took a deep breath, wiping her eyes. “I’m so glad we’re friends, Junetta. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“Probably home in bed! We’ve got to let this mess go until morning or Shelby’ll have to spend another night.” Her gray hair was disheveled from the heat and the effort of washing so many dishes.
“No, Auntie, we’re almost done. Look, another glass and we’re finished.”
“All right, but leave that biscuit sheet for me to do tomorrow. I don’t know how you can keep awake on those long drives.”
Shelby glanced at the clock and was surprised at the hour. “I’ll be fine, don’t you worry.”
Her aunt peered out the kitchen window, a slight frown creasing her brow. “It seems downright airish tonight. I just wish you’d buy something new, instead of running around in your daddy’s old car.”
“But it’s a classic Jag and I wanted that car before I even graduated high school. When he finally got something newer, I thought Christmas had come early!” Shelby smiled, began to gather up her purse, overnight bag, and Sirocco in her carrier.
“Classic or not, you don’t want to get stranded in the dark.”
Another squeeze for Aunt Junetta made Shelby want to store the hug somewhere safe inside, where she could bring it out when she needed it most. She could feel her aunt’s shoulder blades through her thick sweater and winced. She felt so fragile.
“I’ve got my phone and if anything happens I can call for help. It’s just an hour, I’ll be home in no time.” Shelby turned to Bessy.
“Mrs. Arbogast, you take care and I’ll see you next time I come down,” Shelby gave the older woman a tight hug. She was the opposite of Aunt Junetta, pillow-y soft and smelling of baby powder.
“Honey, take care, too, and you let us know when you find that nice man we’re all praying for. I can’t wait to bake some cheese straws for your wedding!”
Shelby laughed and shook her head. Bessy always made it sound as if her wedding was right around the corner.
***
Now it was two hours later and she was only half way home.
She shivered and flipped on the car’s high beams, but the visibility was still only a few feet. Her hands were clenched around the wheel. The black fluff ball on her lap purred contentedly.
“Don’t mind me, we’re just going to drive off the road into the canal any moment now, Sirocco”, she muttered.
Shelby licked her lips and tried not to panic. She recited a verse to herself, about letting ‘all who trust in you rejoice’ and she did trust. She was just scared silly at the same time. Thank goodness her father insisted she keep an old sleeping bag and emergency gear in the trunk. It probably housed more spiders than she cared to imagine, but it could be a lifesaver if the Jag broke down in this weather.
And her cell phone was dying.
Where was technology when you really needed it? But it was her fault, for leaving the car charger on her aunt’s table. It had been that kind of month. Mistake after failure after disaster. She tugged the top of her nubbly old sweater farther up her neck, chilled even though the heat blew full force into the car.
The Jag swerved a little and Shelby’s thoughts snapped into the present with a sharp breath. Was that ice? Or a gust of wind? She didn’t know which was better but she decided it was time to pull over.
“Just you and me, girl. When it clears up, we’ll keep going.” Shelby’s heart dropped into her shoes. An ice storm, in the dead of night, in an old car, on a deserted highway, with a dead cell phone. She felt like the first victim in a bad horror movie.
She pulled over very carefully, trying to feel for the gravel at the side of the road. The red Mississippi clay was worn smooth in spots and she didn’t want to slide down the bank. Satisfied she was out of the way, she put on her emergency lights and settled back. Her shoulders were knotted with stress and she worked to unclench her hands. She was going to trust God from the side of the road now, instead of driving bull-doggedly through the storm.
Sirocco raised her head with a ‘mmrrrp?’ and Shelby stroked her back. “Just a few minutes, till it gets better.”
She rubbed her fingers through Sirocco’s fur, feeling the vibration as she pur
red. A gust of wind spread sleet across the hood and she wiggled her toes inside her black boots. A few more minutes and sleet or no, they’d have to keep moving.
Bright lights flashed into the rear view mirror. A car slowed, pulling up behind her. She grinned at the sight of the Good Samaritan, just like in the parable. The windshield wipers made a squeal as she forced them back into action. There was a good sized pile of sleet under each one.
She waited patiently for the other driver to make his way over. Finally, the dull clunk of a door slamming shut and a dim shadow passed through the lights shining in her rearview. A sudden shiver of unease traveled up her spine and she wiped at the window frantically, trying to clear the condensation. Sirocco stood, shook herself and left for the back seat. “Right, make me face them alone, you traitor,” Shelby whispered, glaring into the dim interior of her car. Shelby turned her head back to the window and let out a shriek. There was a shadowy figure very close, leaning down and shouting to her window.
“I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”
- Elizabeth
Chapter Five
Shelby cracked the window, her heart hammering, the old handle protesting in the cold. Icy rain stung her face as she squinted to get a good look at the man. “Are you all right?” the dark shape was asking in a loud voice.
“Yes, I’m so sorry to make you stop I was just taking a break, and I’ll be going now.” She nodded reassuringly at the stranger. His overcoat was pulled up around his chin and under a dark, floppy hat, she could hardly see anything except his nose. Little pieces of ice clung to his shoulders and arms, sparkling in the dim light.
Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits (Austen Takes the South) Page 3
