by Teresa Trent
Oh Holy Fright
Pecan Bayou, Volume 8
Teresa Trent
Published by Teresa Trent, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
OH HOLY FRIGHT
First edition. April 18, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Teresa Trent.
ISBN: 978-1386157946
Written by Teresa Trent.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Helpful Hints from the Happy Hinter
Chapter 1
“What would possess Joe Nelson to give the Christmas solo to a woman who sings like a washing machine full of rocks?” Aunt Maggie’s voice echoed in the community center gym, the location hosting many of the neighborhood churches for the Christmas Eve service. Her attitude was in direct contrast to Rudolph’s blinking nose on her fire engine red Christmas sweatshirt.
“Ooh. You better watch out,” Danny whispered in my ear. “When Mama says words like that, it’s best to look busy.” I had just picked up Danny from the Christmas party for people with disabilities held at his adult care center. Today he seemed especially happy for some reason. And from the way he kept giggling, I could tell Danny had a secret he was bursting to tell me.
“Joe!” Aunt Maggie called out.
The choir director, who was busily engaged in a conversation with Enid Sanford—solo-stealer and owner of the voice that sounded like a washing machine full of rocks—didn’t respond.
“Joe!” she bellowed.
When he failed to respond a second time, she stomped back, turned him around by the shoulders, and plopped her slender black music folder into his hands.
“Take it. I can’t sing in a choir where my voice isn’t heard.”
I had to admit, Maggie was one of the better singers in the holiday choir. Some of the other vocalists possessed lesser talent. One time when I was watching Joe’s friend Howard Gunther at the soundboard, I noticed he was turning down certain microphones. It was wonderful these people volunteered, but some of the singers could be described as cats screeching in the night. Enid Sanford was one of those people; when she hit the high C, it could make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
Leaving an astonished Joe, Maggie returned to us. “Well, that’s it. You’re hearing it right here and now. I am quitting the Pecan Bayou Singers. They can jingle their bells with somebody else.”
Lester Jibbets, a tall wiry man with protruding cheekbones and the owner of the most successful port-a-potty business in Central Texas, walked over waving a bony hand. “I totally agree, Maggie. What happened here is nothing short of criminal. It will ruin the Christmas Eve performance, uh huh.” He nodded his head to reinforce his point.
“Thanks, Lester,” Maggie said, about to continue her tirade, but Lester just kept talking.
“Yes, sir, I knew right away I needed to come over and help a beautiful lady in trouble, I did.” More nods.
“Thank you, Lester,” Maggie repeated, but this time she waited. Lester Jibbets was not an easy man to shut up once he got started. I guess the portable bathroom business is pretty lonely, even if you’re at the top of your game.
“May I walk you to your car? I would hate for you to swoon right here, and I would have to catch you in my strong yet surprisingly gentle arms.” His eyes lit up at the thought. This was getting downright creepy.
“That’s okay, Mr. Jibbets,” I reassured him. “Maggie’s not the swooning type.” I took Maggie by the elbow and led her to the car, leaving Jibbets standing alone. He gave us a final wave, just in case we wanted to turn around and talk to him again.
Danny took Maggie’s other arm and said, “Mama, you can’t quit the Pecan Bayou Singers. They need you. You told me that if you weren’t there, the whole group of idiots would fall apart. I don’t want to see the whole group of idiots fall apart.”
Even I had heard her say that more than once. Leave it to a man with Down syndrome to keep things honest.
Pastor Green careened over, ever the crisis counselor. He had sniffed this one out like a bloodhound. He was dressed in what Leo called his “cool pastor casual wear,” a black shirt, white liturgical collar, husky man jeans, and sneakers.
“Maggie, I saw what just happened. I don’t know why Joe made a decision like that, but you need to be charitable.”
“Charitable! That’s rich!” Maggie said, launching into the speech that Lester had kept interrupting. I knew she couldn’t hold it in for much longer. “Everybody wants me to be charitable all of a sudden. I get enough offers to be charitable in my own mailbox. Next thing they’ll be asking me for money for blind Seeing Eye dogs and displaced squirrels. It’s ridiculous.”
The pastor moved closer and whispered, “I don’t know if they can handle some of the music without you.”
“Well then, they’re just going to have to fall apart. Couldn’t Joe hear how Enid sounded? Lord knows it’s Christmastime and I have plenty of baking and wrapping to do. I certainly don’t need another commitment on my calendar. Let’s go home, Betsy.”
Joe Nelson hurried over and joined Pastor Green. He held the folder up to his brown-and-gray argyle sweater vest. “Now, Maggie, I can see you’re pretty upset with me right now. Please know there was a lot to making this decision. I do hope you will be gracious and let Enid enjoy her solo. There was just something about her voice I hadn’t heard before.”
Maggie’s nose went up in the air as if she smelled something bad. “Oh, I’ll be gracious. I’ll be so gracious, you’ll think I’m Martha Stewart with a new scone recipe.” She jabbed him in the chest where he still held her thin black choir folder. “I quit.”
Joe gave my aunt a gentle smile, tucked the folder under his arm, and reached out to take her hand. “You can’t mean that, Maggie. We need you. I don’t know what we would sound like without your lovely soprano voice. It’s just that this time, I do wish you would reconsider.”
Where Jibbets was a little off-putting, Joe was sweet, and Aunt Maggie became flustered by this heartfelt plea. I had to wonder if she was a little ashamed by her outburst.
“All I can say is, I’ll think about it.”
Cupping his hand behind his ear, Joe gave her a confused look. Pastor Green, who usually had an excellent poker face, pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. Enid was doing a little extra rehearsing in the background. Listening to her again, I would have to say she wasn’t rocks in a washing machine—more like a cross between nails on a chalkboard and the sound a balloon makes when the air is slowly released. “What?”
“I said,” she shouted, “I’ll think about it.”
“And that is all I can ask. Running a choir is never easy because people’s egos are at stake. You can certainly understand that about Enid, right?” Joe shouted now as Enid reached the volume of a plane revving up engines for takeoff.
“So, are you telling me you gave her the solo because you wanted to pump up her ego?” Maggie cupped her hands together like a megapho
ne. “I don’t think that’s how you direct a choir.”
Luckily, Enid stopped before Joe had to answer.
“You may be right about that, Maggie. I am what you would call an amateur choir director, and I’m afraid I lead with my heart before my head. I do hope you’ll understand and maybe forgive me. It is the Christmas season, after all, and sometimes we have to think of our fellow man or woman.”
“Amen, brother,” Pastor Green added.
Joe’s words were simple and yet very stirring. He was right. It was Christmastime, a time to think of others, and he was thinking of Enid Sanford. Most people in town really didn’t like Enid because she was bossy and arrogant. I’d had my own experiences with her that I would rather forget. I supposed even a person as obnoxious as Enid deserved a break now and again. It looked like this was going to be Enid’s lucky day. Or should I say she was going to get her Christmas miracle?
“Joe?” Pastor Green asked. “Are you feeling all right? You look a little peaked.”
Joe drew in a breath. “I’m fine. It’s just that sometimes good intentions can really backfire on you.”
As we got into my car to drive home, Danny spoke up from the back seat. “Mr. Joe is nice. He’s trying to do something nice for Miss Enid. She’s not nice.” Even though Danny sometimes had trouble understanding complex issues, in this situation he understood perfectly. So what if the whole town would be holding their ears while Enid screeched the high notes of “O Holy Night”? Not all gifts could be bought with a credit card.
Maggie continued to fuss about Enid Sanford and her solo while Danny seemed to be smiling more than ever. I had to wonder if he was happy about his mother not getting the solo, now spared days of her singing scales in the house and gargling with lemon water. Danny leaned against the headrest, still smiling to himself, his eyes cast upward.
“What are you so happy about Danny?”
Danny’s smile widened, making his cherubic face glow like a Christmas angel at the top of a tree. “I got a girlfriend.”
Maggie stopped her prattling and whipped around. “You have a girlfriend? Who would that be?”
There was a delicate balance Maggie had to strike in asking about Danny’s love life. She needed to seem upbeat but cautious. In the past, Danny had developed crushes on women without disabilities. Because of the potential for Danny to get his heart broken, this could be a tricky situation.
“Wanda. She is beautiful. She is my girlfriend, and we are going out on a date.”
“You mean Wanda from your day habilitation center? That Wanda?” Maggie asked.
“Yes. She is beautiful. She said she would be my girlfriend today,” Danny explained then repeated his pledge of true love, in case we hadn’t heard it the first time.
Maggie let out a relieved sigh. “That’s just wonderful, Danny. Are you going to ask her to the Christmas festival?”
Our little town of Pecan Bayou, although quiet during the year, liked to do it up big for Christmas with a festival in the town square. There would be caroling, tree lighting, and all kinds of Christmas craft booths for anyone who was still trying to find that perfect gift. There was usually a dance floor, and couples would dance the night away until it was time to take sleeping children home.
“Yes. Yes, I will ask her. I’m sure she will say yes because she is my girlfriend,” Danny confirmed, in case we hadn’t been listening the first two times. After he finished speaking, he resumed his daydreaming, still smiling. My sweet cousin was smitten.
“We’ll have to ask Wanda over to dinner sometime. I’d like to get to know her better,” Aunt Maggie said.
“Yes, but you will have to talk to her mama. She’s a little scary,” Danny whispered as if Wanda’s mother were sitting somewhere in the car.
“Why do you think she’s scary?” I asked.
He pulled his bottom lip in and whispered, “She yells.”
Maggie was quick to respond, her anger at Joe all but forgotten. “Has she ever yelled at you?”
“No. Just at Wanda when she picks her up.”
Maybe Danny having a girlfriend was not such a great thing after all. My aunt had done a thorough job of making sure Danny’s life was peaceful and productive. Other people’s domestic disputes were not a part of his world.
We stopped at the high school on our way home to pick up my stepson, Tyler. He scrambled into the back seat, throwing his cumbersome black nylon backpack on the seat next to Danny.
“You read a lot of books,” Danny remarked as he patted the black backpack.
“Not my choice, dude. These teachers think if a book isn’t at least ten pounds it can’t be any good.” He shifted his focus to me in the front seat. “Guess what?”
“What?” I responded in chorus with Danny.
“I asked Tiffany Worthington to go out, and she said yes. She said she’s been waiting for me to ask her out for a long time. I guess she couldn’t resist my animal magnetism.” Now it was Tyler who was beaming in the back seat. He looked very pleased with himself.
Danny bobbed his head up and down, narrowly missing the car’s ceiling. “I have a girlfriend, too. I just got a girlfriend, too. I must have animal magnetism.”
“That’s great, Danny,” Tyler said, patting Danny on the shoulder between jumps.
“Are you taking her to the Christmas festival? I’m going to ask Wanda to the festival.”
Tyler’s eyebrows knit together as he considered Danny’s idea. “Good idea. I’ll have to do that.”
“We can go together. Tiffany and Wanda, Danny and Tyler. We’ll go together,” Danny said, still bouncing in the seat.
From the way Tyler’s face fell, I could tell a double date was not what he had envisioned.
“I don’t know, dude. Tiffany is kind of ... I just don’t know.”
Danny stopped the movement that had been rocking the car’s shock absorbers and cocked his head to the side. “It’s okay. Wanda is very nice. If Tiffany is shy, Wanda will be her friend. Girls like to be friends.”
Tyler met my eyes in the rearview mirror. I could feel him silently pleading me to help him out of this situation.
Before I could answer, Aunt Maggie spoke up, her eyes darting from the road to the mirror. “Danny, don’t be silly. They’re a lot younger than you, and they want to go off by themselves. Don’t invite yourself on their date.”
Danny’s stuck out his bottom lip. “I wasn’t inviting myself. We both have girlfriends, Mama. I have Wanda, and Tyler has Tiffnee.”
“Yes, you were,” Aunt Maggie answered, well aware of the sulking that was about to ensue.
“It’s okay, dude,” Tyler said. “I know you’re excited. I am too.”
After that, it was quiet as Tyler and Danny resumed their daydreaming, although Danny was slightly subdued. Calm fell over the car, and I reflected on how a new love was a wonderful thing, especially at Christmastime.
After we dropped Danny and Maggie off and arrived home, Tyler immediately raided the refrigerator. Setting out sandwich makings, he glanced up at me. “That was tough. I thought I was actually going to have to go to the Christmas festival with Danny and his girlfriend. It would never have worked. Tiffany is the most popular girl in school, and she wouldn’t want to hang out with a couple of Down syndrome people.”
“That may be true, but you need to keep in mind Danny doesn’t understand that. To him, you’re just two guys out on a date.”
Tyler closed the bread with a bread tie and nodded. “I know.”
“You know what?” My handsome husband came to the door holding Coco on his shoulders.
There was an uncomfortable silence before Tyler grabbed his sandwich and started for the stairs. “I know that I have a lot of homework to do, guys. Talk to you later.”
As Leo lowered Coco to the floor, he gave me a look. “Why do I get the feeling you two were not talking about homework?”
I kissed him on the cheek. “Ever the scientific observer, my favorite weather forecaster. You wou
ld be correct. And, yes, there are clouds on the horizon.”
Leo was a meteorologist who worked for the weather bureau central office. He was handsome enough that the local television station once asked him to fill in for Hurricane Hal, our local weatherman. Half the ladies in town fell in love with his beautiful blue eyes and clean-cut appearance. Of course, I fell in love with him the day he chased me through the old tuberculosis hospital, but that’s another story.
Tyler’s younger brother, Zach, came barreling in and threw his backpack in the front foyer. He stepped into the kitchen, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. Zach was my son from my first marriage, and I liked to think he looked more like me than my ex.
“Nick and Rocky had me setting up the classified ads on the computer.”
Zach had developed an interest in journalism in the last year or so. Never one to turn away free help, my editor, Rocky Whitson, had been more than willing to let Zach hang out at the newspaper office. Not only did he bring an unequaled enthusiasm to whatever task he was given, he could also solve computer problems. Rocky was an older man who had been raised on a ten key calculator, so having his own personal Geek Squad was a plus.
Zach plopped the latest edition of the Pecan Bayou Gazette down on the counter. “Extra, extra. Oh, and Rocky wants to know where your Christmas column is.”
He wasn’t the only one. I had been working on my Christmas column for a week now and still didn’t have anything new and original to say. I had been writing the Happy Hinter column for many years, sharing information about cookies and decorating and planning Christmas parties. What could I say that hadn’t already been published? I needed to submit the column in the next couple of days, but I didn’t feel full of hints or happiness. So far, my Christmas inspiration was zilch. I would probably end up featuring holiday decorations again this year. People in town loved to see their yards in the paper, and all I had to do was take a few pictures and highlight the decorations that had been sitting in their garages all year.
Zach pulled out a flyer from the folds of the paper. Across the top in bright-yellow letters was a full cap headline “I MUST BE CRAZY!” Underneath were pictures of the kinds of computer games and video game consoles Zach loved to collect.
