Talk of the Town

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  “And you would never know she has weak wrists. She compensates well for that too.” Ethel closed her eyes as she chewed a piece of bacon-wrapped chicken breast stuffed with banana-nut bread. “Jane, this is just delicious.”

  “Thank you,” Jane smiled. “Maybe it would be more accurate to say that others compensate for her. I saw her quietly hand a bottle of water to her sister to open for her, and the young friend who was with her while we visited picked up a heavy backpack for her without even being asked. I thought it was very nice that they didn’t even seem to think about it.”

  “So what did they tell you about the family history?” Louise asked. “Were there others who had it?”

  “There were,” Ethel confirmed. “Lucinda said her husband had a great-aunt who was tiny and had weak wrists all her life, and apparently the great-aunt remembered someone even further back on the family tree who was the same.”

  “When Haley was a teenager,” Jane went on, “she began to have pain in her wrists. Radiographs showed an unusual skeletal structure, so she was referred to a specialist for testing. That’s when they discovered that she had this specific syndrome linked to a form of dwarfism. And that’s when Lucinda recalled the great-aunt.”

  Clothilda said, “I wanted to know if there was any treatment for this wrists.”

  “Apparently, in some cases in the past, surgery has helped with the appearance of the deformity,” Jane said. “Haley has never had anything done because her case is fairly mild. But for people with significant wrist deformity, there is a surgical procedure that can stabilize the wrists. The problem is that the patient loses some flexibility because they have to fuse certain bones together.”

  “So if she has surgery, she loses range of motion,” Louise restated.

  “I have a question,” Alice said to Clothilda. “Did you look for a doctor in Europe? Surely there is someone who could do it there.”

  The German woman shook her head. “Surgery Jane talks of is done by very few. But no one knows anything to do to stable—stabilize wrists without taking away motion.” She demonstrated her meaning by twisting her wrists back and forth, up and down and every which way.

  “And that’s what you are hoping to find for your granddaughter?” Louise asked Clothilda.

  “Yes. Lucinda gave me the name of doctor who has talked about new surgery. Lotte, my granddaughter, has more troubles than Haley. More bad wrist. But to choose bad wrists or no motion,” she shook her head. “I wish to see if American doctor can help more.”

  “Clothilda is going to give her daughter the name of the orthopedic surgeon Lucinda recommended,” said Ethel. “They can send her history and X-rays to him. If he thinks it might help, then Clothilda might try to find a way to bring Lotte over here for the surgery.”

  “Expensive,” said Clothilda grimly. “I help with what I can, but still expensive for daughter.”

  “I imagine so,” said Alice. “I will keep your Lotte in my prayers, Clothilda, in hopes that you and your family will be able to discern what might be the right thing to do.”

  “Thank you.” Clothilda looked around the table at her four friends. “Coming to Grace Chapel Inn was very good for me.”

  Maxwell pestered Alice half to death until she gave in and agreed that he could attend church on Palm Sunday with them. By that time, his course of antibiotics had eliminated the chance of passing on the infection.

  His father reluctantly took his leave immediately after Sunday breakfast. “I left a number of loose ends when I rushed out of my office,” he told Alice. He extended his hand to her. “Thank you for everything, Alice. Without your help, Maxwell and I might never have been able to overcome the distance between us.”

  Alice shook his hand as she smiled. “I suspect it would have worked itself out someday,” she said modestly. “But I’m glad I could be an instrument of change for you both. Have a safe trip, Mr. Vandermitton. Please visit us again someday.”

  While Maxwell and his father said their farewells, Alice discreetly gave them some space. Then she walked to the front porch with Maxwell, and they both waved good-bye until the rental SUV drove out of sight.

  He sighed. “Alice, I don’t know how to thank you. I suppose it sounds silly to thank you for ignoring my wishes, but if you hadn’t, my father and I would never have had this chance to talk.”

  “So you’re feeling better about your relationship with him?”

  The young man nodded. “Much. Neither of us is perfect, and we both made unfortunate choices that kept us from really seeing the other. But that’s in the past now, and I think we’ve made a very good start on a closer bond.”

  “That’s wonderful, Maxwell,” she said sincerely. Then the nurse side of her personality kicked in. “How are you feeling? Coming downstairs for breakfast may have been enough for you—”

  “No, Alice, I want to go to church. It’s only a short walk,” he protested. “I feel all right. Honestly. And I can sleep for the rest of the day if you think I need to.”

  “I propose a compromise,” she suggested. “You can go to church if you allow one of us to drive you and drop you off at the door. It sounds foolish, I know, but that short walk is enough to get you coughing again if you’re not careful.”

  “All right,” he said. “Anything you say, as long as I can go the Palm Sunday service.”

  Jane drove Maxwell to the church just before the service was to start. The others had arrived at Grace Chapel a few minutes earlier and were there to walk with Maxwell into the church. Jane observed that there were ripples of smiles and waves directed at Maxwell as their fellow congregants noticed him.

  When Louise began to play “The Palms” prelude, pleasure and peace stole through Jane as she prepared for worship. The Palm Sunday service always had been one of Jane’s favorites. When she was small, the children of the chapel were dressed in simple white choir robes and lined up in order by height. Each child received a small bundle of palms, which they were instructed to hold with both hands. As the stately music began, the children started to wave their palms and step forward. The biggest children started off because it was too risky to try to get the smallest, newest palm-wavers to walk up the aisles first. Every other child went left and right down the outside aisles of the church until they met in the center. Stopping to lay their palms on a growing pile before the altar, they came back to the center aisle, two by two, to the rear of the chapel.

  Step-together, step-together, step-together, slowly in time with the music. Dip your palms twice to the right and twice to the left.

  Seeing the children of Grace Chapel continuing the same tradition in which she had participated so long ago brought tears to Jane’s eyes.

  When the palm processional ended, the congregation rose to sing “All Glory, Laud, and Honor.” Jane enjoyed hearing the voices around her, though she usually didn’t sing at all or just mouthed the words. As some unkind music teacher had once told her, she “couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket” and she was loathe to inflict her voice on anyone.

  The service flowed on smoothly, Rev. Thompson delivering a stirring sermon before administering Holy Communion. The choir sang a beautiful four-part voice arrangement of an old standard, “Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?”

  Glancing over, Jane noticed Maxwell paying rapt attention throughout the service. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be experiencing one’s very first Palm Sunday service as an adult. She had been away from the church before moving home to Acorn Hill, but the childhood memories associated with the church and congregation were such a part of her that she could not imagine who or what she would be without them. Someone with a void in her spirit, she supposed. Perhaps that is the way Maxwell felt, before coming to Christ as an adult. What a wondrous feeling to have that void filling with the Holy Spirit.

  The service concluded with a final, heartfelt hymn, “Hosanna, Loud Hosanna,” another of Jane’s favorites. As the postlude began and she turned to speak to those around
her, she was amused to note that Maxwell had been inundated with well-wishers wanting to hear the details of his illness and to ascertain that he really was feeling better.

  “Thank you all,” he was saying. “I can’t tell you how much your cards, flowers and other expressions of caring meant to me while I was hospitalized. Acorn Hill truly has welcomed me with open arms.”

  The young man looked as if he was on the verge of tears. Jane glanced at Alice, who usually knew just what to say in situations like this, but she was looking at the floor, apparently distracted and unaware that Maxwell was struggling.

  Jane stepped forward. “I hate to bring this love fest to an end,” she said, evoking chuckles, “but Maxwell needs to get home and rest again. The last thing we want is to put him back in the hospital.”

  There was a murmur of agreement, and in moments the crowd had dispersed.

  “Thank you,” he said gratefully to Jane.

  She took him by the arm and urged him to sit down again in the pew, noticing that he seemed breathless and that his color wasn’t good. “I’ll go get the car.” To Alice, she added, “Meet me out front in a couple of minutes.”

  Maxwell slept most of the afternoon. He’d been exhausted by the time they got home from church. Even eating some of Patsy Ley’s tasty chicken soup had seemed to sap his energy. Fortunately, the ugly cough he’d had just a few days ago had all but disappeared, and he slept soundly.

  Just before dinner, Alice was in her room feeding Wendell one of his packs of treats when she heard her name being called up the stairs.

  “Alice?”

  “I’m up here. Just a minute.” She recognized Maxwell’s voice. Apparently he was standing at the foot of the flight of steps to the third floor.

  She tossed the incriminating wrapper from Wendell’s treat in her trash can and descended the steps. “Hello,” she said. “It’s almost five o’clock. You had a nice, long nap.”

  “I feel much better.” He shook his head. “I must seem ridiculous, needing so much rest and napping like a two-year-old.”

  “You were sick enough to require hospitalization,” Alice reminded him. “It’s not at all uncommon for patients to need significant amounts of rest after an illness like pneumonia.”

  “Alice…”

  “Yes?”

  Quietly, he said, “I need to tell Jane and Louise tonight. Will you be there, for moral support?”

  “Of course,” she said immediately. “Before dinner?”

  “Yes. Then, tomorrow, I must tell a number of other people. I know having a whole string of individual discussions will be tiring for me, but that’s what I should do.”

  “What if you make a list of all the people you believe you need to tell, and perhaps I can help you sort the names into two or three groups.”

  “That sounds a lot more manageable,” he said with relief. “Thank you.” He turned and headed for his room. “I’m going to start on that list.”

  An hour before dinner, Alice walked into the parlor. Louise had been playing piano, and she looked up as Alice entered. “Hello.”

  “That was beautiful,” Alice told her. “I so enjoy hearing you play.”

  “Thank you.” Louise stood, lifted the lid of the piano bench and neatly laid several pieces of sheet music inside.

  “Uh… could you come into the living room, please? Maxwell would like to talk to you.”

  Louise raised one eyebrow. “To me?”

  “Well, to you and Jane.”

  “Not you?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Alice, are you being deliberately cryptic? What is this all about?”

  “Maxwell will tell you.” Alice vanished from the doorway.

  Louise finished putting away all her music, then walked into the living room.

  Alice was seated in the corner in the rocker that had belonged to their mother. She had a gold-covered pillow on her lap with her arms loosely hugging it. Jane sat on the burgundy sofa. Her gaze met Louise’s and, reading the question there, she shrugged. I don’t know what this is about either.

  Maxwell was standing in front of the fireplace. As Louise seated herself beside Jane on the couch, he said, “Thank you for joining me. I realize you both have things to do, so I’ll make this brief.” He walked over and sat down in the overstuffed chair so that he could face them.

  Holding Louise’s gaze for a moment, he said, “There’s something unpleasant I have to tell you about myself.” He hesitated. “I have a confession to make. I did something… well, I suppose you’d call it sneaky, at best.” He hesitated again.

  “Please just tell us,” said Louise. “Dancing around it isn’t going to make it go away.”

  “All right.” He took a deep breath. “I was responsible for the Bigfoot evidence.”

  Both women were silent for a moment as they digested the statement.

  “All right,” said Jane finally. “Do you mean you made those tracks?”

  He nodded. “And planted the hair, which I got from my barbershop before I arrived here.”

  Louise was beginning to feel stirrings of anger as the meaning of his words sank in. “I presume you have an excellent explanation for this,” she said in an icy tone.

  Maxwell nodded cautiously. He clearly had caught the anger underlining her words. “I’m not sure it’s an excellent one,” he said, “but it’s the only one I have.” He twisted his fingers together nervously. “I was doing a project for one of my classes. A compare-and-contrast-communities sort of thing to gauge reactions to fantastic stories. I studied a control group in Philadelphia and in another small town called Nottingham, then introduced a hoax in a different neighborhood in Philadelphia. For the second small town, I chose Acorn Hill.”

  “Did the Philadelphia hoax involve Bigfoot?” Louise’s voice was tight.

  “No.” He shook his head, looking at the floor. “It involved a giant alligator in the sewers.”

  “Well, lucky us,” said Jane.

  Maxwell hung his head. “I never intended to hurt or embarrass anyone. To be truthful, I didn’t even consider the feelings of the people involved. Until I came here, I had never been a part of a community like this.”

  Maxwell cleared his throat. “I know I don’t deserve your friendship. I apologize sincerely for upsetting you and anyone else who was affected by my behavior.”

  Jane rose. “I accept your apology,” she said, very seriously, “and I appreciate your honesty. Your friendship is something I am going to have to think about for a while.” And she turned and left the room.

  Louise understood Jane’s feelings. Jane had worried over him, made him special remedies and fed him well. She felt betrayed. Louise felt the same way herself, but she was going to do her best to let go of it. The young man had made a mistake, as everyone did in youth. Such mistakes simply were part of maturing. And it was clear that he had grown and changed for the better since his arrival in Acorn Hill.

  “I,” she said, “am going to forgive you, Maxwell. As a mother, I understand that young people make mistakes as they learn about the world around them. You made an error, and I believe you have learned from it.”

  “Thank you, Louise.” He bowed his head.

  “You’re welcome.” As she began to leave the room, she stopped and laid a hand on his shoulder. “It took courage to confess to us,” she said. “And we were probably the easiest ones you’re going to have to deal with. Don’t expect everyone to let you off so lightly.”

  Clothilda had gone to dinner with Ethel and several of Ethel’s friends. Apparently Jane had not invited Maxwell to dine with them that evening. Or perhaps she’d uninvited him or he’d just assumed he was not welcome. In any case Louise saw that the table was set for three.

  After saying grace, the sisters picked at their food in silence. Louise savored a bite of the succulent pecan-crusted mountain trout Jane had prepared. “This is excellent,” she said. “I wonder if you could serve this as a breakfast entrée.”

  A
wisp of a smile flitted across Jane’s face. “I just might try it sometime.” Then she sighed. “I just can’t believe he did that to us.”

  There was no need to clarify who “he” was.

  “I know,” Alice said. “It was an insensitive—”

  “Callous, thoughtless and… and just plain mean thing to do,” Jane finished.

  “This really struck a nerve with you,” Louise observed.

  “And it didn’t with you?” Jane leaned forward. “I feel so, so, I don’t know… taken advantage of. Don’t you get it? He chose us because in his eyes Acorn Hill is a backward little burg filled with backward little people. That’s pretty insulting.”

  “I agree completely,” Alice said.

  “You do?” Jane looked shocked.

  “I do. Initially, I believe that’s very much what he thought. But we surprised him. We weren’t backward. He’s met accomplished musicians and artists. He’s eaten four-star food at a top-rated inn. He’s talked with people who have traveled the world. And we all were warm and friendly and accepting. If he’d been doing a paper on hospitality, we’d have gotten the blue ribbon.”

  “You’re right, Alice,” Louise said. “We did surprise him. And what’s more, we have changed him.” She lifted her chin and raised her eyes toward the ceiling, indicating the floor above. “That young man is a very different person from the one who arrived here. I have to confess I didn’t care much for that one. Not much at all. This one, however, I am growing to enjoy quite a bit.”

  “That’s true.” Jane appeared to be giving their words some thought. “He is quite different from the young man who checked in weeks ago. Recently, I haven’t seen those little flashes of superiority that I don’t even think he knew he was displaying.”

  “No, and he’s far more aware of and concerned about others than he was,” Alice added.

  “He carried three boxes of things for Goodwill out to the car for me the other day.” Jane’s gaze was distant, examining the memory. “He told me they were too heavy for me. I don’t think he would have done that before he came here.”