The Happy Hour Choir (11 page)

The rings holding the curtains scraped the curtain rod, and I imagined Tiffany holding out the fabric and studying it. She didn't know I had picked out airplanes because I wanted my little boy to be able to touch heaven.

“The sky's the limit for this little dude,” I would tell Ginger as I patted my stomach.

“You know it,” she would say as she reached over to give my stomach her own little pat. I hadn't seen the sadness in her eyes or the tight set of her mouth back then, but I could see it in my mind's eye now that I knew her story.

I wondered if Tiffany was still going through her dreams of marrying Luke and moving far away. Was she, as the old saying went, picking out curtains? Maybe I didn't know if I wanted to pick out curtains with Luke, but the thought of Tiffany picking them out disturbed me more than I cared to admit.

He'd called me an acquired taste. While there was the promise of something more in our talk of caviar and something sweeter, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd made the whole thing up. In my own desperation had I invented the flirting, the protectiveness, the kiss? Or had he simply not been alone with me long enough for us to sort out the emotions that had come bubbling to the surface?

Chapter 13

B
y Wednesday I needed to get out of the house. Bill had called to let us know that Luke's boxing skills were now the stuff of legend all around town. After coming home to a cleaned-out trailer, Carl went to The Fountain and created such a scene that he became only the second person to incur a lifelong ban. It had only been a couple of days, but I still hadn't heard from Luke, which meant I still didn't know how he really felt about me.

Did he regret the kiss? Hell, did he regret the hospital bill?

Either way, I wanted to know, I needed to know, and I was pissed at Ginger for having Tiffany take her to the church to get Luke's sermon for me to read.

“Ginger, I'm fine. I need to get out of this house before I lose my mind!” I huffed.

“Enough to get the groceries?”

I whistled low. Ginger knew how I felt about going to the store. I might even run into my mother at the store. She and I would choose opposite ends of the store like we always did, but my heart would still race and my stomach pitch. I always forgot something on the days I ran into her because I was in such a hurry to get away.

But the cabin fever would be the end of me if I didn't get out of the house.

“Yes, I will get the groceries.” And possibly drive by the parsonage even though it's several miles out of the way.

“Beulah, I can go do that,” Tiffany said as she reached into the pantry for the Cheerios. She wore a red paisley bandana over her hair because she'd been on a dusting and vacuuming frenzy. A damp strip on her shirt over her belly suggested she'd cleaned out the tub, too.

“I'll go. I need some fresh air.”

“This is crazy. You need rest.”

“Says the pregnant woman who's been cleaning the entire house!”

“I like having an actual house to clean,” she said, pouting. “And I can grocery shop, too!”

“Let her go, Tiffany. You go on to work, now. Beulah's a big girl.” Ginger panted as she tried to raise the footrest on the recliner. I reached down to give her a hand, and she nodded her thanks.

“If you're sure.” Tiffany shrugged her shoulders and stuck her hand into the box of Cheerios to take out another large handful.
Buy more Cheerios.

“I'm sure.” I reached for the Toyota keys where they hung on the hook inside the kitchen. “Just a little stir-crazy, I think.”

Tiffany closed the cereal box and put it on the counter. She shuffled to the fridge and took out the strainer of grapes she had washed earlier that morning. She two-fisted the grapes, eating one from the left hand then one from the right.
Buy Cheerios . . . and grapes.

“Take the Caddy, Beulah Lou. I know how you are when you start buying groceries, acting like there's going to be some blizzard and you'll never be able to get home.” Ginger's eyes fluttered but remained closed as she leaned back into the recliner.

I looked down at the Toyota keys incredulously. “I thought old ladies couldn't hear.”

“I'd know your keys anywhere with all that crap jangling around,” she mumbled. “They're going to tear the hook off the wall one of these days.”

I looked down at my key ring complete with house key, tavern key, two sets of car keys—even though one of the cars was long gone—a metal B, a whistle, and an old Opryland key chain. I put them back on the hook and took down the keys to the Caddy with their sedate leather patch of a key chain. “Thanks, Ginger.”

She mumbled something that sounded a lot like “You're welcome,” and opened her eyes long enough to watch the ladies on
The View
gesticulate wildly.

I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I'll be back before you know it.”

“Take your time,” she said, her eyes closed. “Oh, but I think I'd like some Dr Pepper.”

“Okay.” I frowned. Never had I known Ginger to drink Dr Pepper.

Settling into the Cadillac, I inhaled and exhaled with my hands squarely at ten and two. I always had to steel myself before driving into Ellery. Going to the Piggly Wiggly meant I would run into at least ten people I knew. At least eight of them would want to chitchat, and at least four of those would look down their noses at me the whole time. The Piggly Wiggly was, after all, the domain of Miss Lottie and Miss Georgette and many other ladies of both high moral standards and substantial girth.

Turning the key in the ignition, I couldn't help but think of what Luke would do. He would drive into town with a pleasant smile and go about his business calmly even if everyone knew he'd punched Carl twice. Better yet, Tiffany had no qualms about driving into town. She went about her errands with chin held high despite the rumors already swirling. For all of my bluster, I had always been an imposter, secretly hurt by all of the snubs and snide comments.

But not today.

Today, I was going to do my grocery shopping, and I was going to enjoy the summer sun and fresh air. Today, I was going to take my time and take the high road if anyone ran into me. Today, I was going to enjoy being alive and no longer concussed. I backed slowly down the drive and eased Ginger's land barge onto Crook Avenue.

Oddly, I saw Ellery with new eyes. Massive oaks and elms canopied Crook with overripe leaves in a shade of green that would soon fade to yellows and browns. Clapboard Victorians and squat bungalows lined either end of the street for the blocks that took me to Main, and the residential area suddenly gave way to the heart of town with the post office on the right and the fire station on the left. Next to the post office sat the old grocery store that had been converted into government offices, but I was basically looking at the butt of the town. Ellery's courthouse showed me her rear end to the left, and the first row of main street buildings showed me their posteriors on the right. Those shops reminded me of a movie façade—the storefronts that faced Main Street were old but well maintained, but the backs of the buildings were dirty and run-down with ancient air-conditioning units and boards nailed up in strategic places.

I passed both and eased up to the stop sign on Main Street. Looking left, I saw the stately entrance to the courthouse and less than a block of businesses. To my right, two blocks of businesses clung to Main Street with only parallel parking in front.

At this point I realized I hadn't been looking at the scenery. No, I'd been looking for Carl. If he couldn't raise hell in The Fountain anymore, then where would he go? Tiffany thought Carl would go back to his trailer to lick his wounds, but still. The crazy bastard might show up when we least expected it.

The person behind me honked to remind me to go. I turned right to head to the Piggly Wiggly on the outskirts of town. I wanted to flip her the bird, but I didn't want to hear about it from Ginger as I most assuredly would. Besides, a casual glance in the rearview mirror showed a lady who reminded me of Ginger with her curly grayish blond hair and expression of extreme annoyance.

As I drove over the bridge that crossed the railroad tracks just beyond the two blocks of two-story buildings, at least four people waved at me. For once in my life, I waved back, wondering if they thought I was Ginger. Only two stop signs stood between me and the grocery store, and it took less than five minutes to pass them. By that time, I was breathing deeply, confident that I could handle whatever town had to throw at me. Then I reached the parking lot to see a profusion of Cadillacs, Lincolns, Buicks, and other sensible-yet-aged sedans. Senior Citizen Discount Wednesday.

That horrifying realization explained why I was still sitting in the car when Luke tapped on the window.

“Beulah, are you going to get out or are you casing the joint?”

I sighed in relief. There he was. I didn't have enough claim on him to ask him where he'd been, but he also hadn't received a mail-order bride in the meantime. That I knew of.

I motioned for him to move out of the way and grabbed my purse and Ginger's list before sliding out of the car. We stood there in the middle of the parking lot staring at each other. Were we finally going to talk about what had happened at the hospital?

He frowned. “Are you supposed to be driving yet?”

Apparently not.

“Of course,” I said a little too quickly. “Today is the first day, and I needed to get out of the house and get some fresh air.”

He arched an eyebrow. “At the grocery store on a Wednesday?”

I crossed my arms and levied my best indignant look. “Well, you're here.”

He winced. “Out of milk. And bread. And peanut butter.” He put his hands in his front pockets and leaned forward ever so slightly. “That does not explain why you, with all of your helpers, are here today.”

I slumped. “I was desperate, okay? And I've been conked on the head and had no clue what day it was.”

“Fair enough. What say I treat each of us to a Coke once we're done?”

Not quite what I had in mind, but I summoned a smile anyway. “Good idea.”

We made it through a third of the store before we came across Lottie Miller gossiping with Georgette Lane. Their buggies sat side by side as the two women blocked coffee on one side and cereal on the other to discuss in whispers all of the goings-on of Ellery. Blissfully unaware of the traffic jam they were causing, they gesticulated wildly over something that had happened at the Baptist Church, then about the Potter boy, who had wrapped his car around a tree the previous weekend.

Miss Georgette could have been a clone of Miss Lottie, only she wore knit tops with matching pants where Miss Lottie preferred Alfred Dunner polyester pantsuits. Miss Georgette also dyed her hair Lucille Ball red while Miss Lottie preferred an auburn shade to clash with all of her earth-tone clothing. Since Miss Georgette was wearing bright blue, I thought of a Rhode Island Red clucking to a peacock.

“Excuse me, ladies, but I need to get to the coffee over there.” Luke had taken the lead, and I was grateful.

“Why, Reverend Daniels, I didn't see you there,” Miss Lottie said as she backed her cart behind Miss Georgette. “Have you heard any more about the handbells?”

“They are supposed to arrive this afternoon,” he said.

“Then I will have to come over and—”

As Luke leaned forward to get the lone bag of free-trade organic coffee, Miss Lottie spotted me. “Beulah, good to see you.”

She and Miss Georgette looked from Luke to me and back to Luke, trying to gauge if we were together and, if so, in what capacity.

“How's Ginger doing these days?” Miss Georgette asked.

“She's doing all right,” I lied. If I told Miss Georgette the truth, there would be a candlelight vigil that evening. And Ginger would kill me.

Miss Georgette shifted from one impossibly small foot to the other, and her thigh muscles jiggled. “And how are you? My niece told me you were in the ER with a concussion the other night.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luke's eyes widen. He had no concept of the intricacy and depth of Miss Georgette's network of informants. Compared to Miss Georgette, Miss Lottie was a piker.

“I'm feeling much better,” I said. “In fact, I decided to shop for groceries today just to get out of the house for a little while.”

“That's good to hear,” Miss Georgette said as she patted my hand. “You need to get away from that tavern before you get hurt, because I do not know what Ginger would do without you. She was telling me the other day all the things you do for her. Oh, tell me you are not going to keep playing there after you were
assaulted
.”

“That's so sweet of you to be concerned, Miss Georgette, but I'll be back in business tomorrow night. Gotta pay the bills, you know.”

“Actually, we'll be having Bible study there this evening,” Luke said in a calm voice. “Both of you are more than welcome to join us.”

That wiped the smiles off their faces.

“I-I think tonight is our knitting circle over at the American Legion,” Miss Lottie said. “Doesn't that sound right to you, Georgette?”

“Yes, I do believe you are right. I would love to come, but I simply couldn't cancel on Lola and the other girls. We have to meet our quota of blankets for that charity, you see.”

“Well, that's too bad,” Luke said blandly. “You ladies have fun tonight, then.”

He reached around for some unbleached coffee filters and moved his cart forward. Both Miss Georgette and Miss Lottie looked ready to burst with the need to spread the news that the new minister was having a Bible study in a bar. And that he had had the audacity to invite two upstanding citizens such as themselves to said study. I stifled my giggle until we got to the next aisle.

“Well played, Mr. Daniels.” I had to stand on tiptoe to whisper over his shoulder into his ear.

“I gotta do what I gotta do, Miss Land,” he whispered back with a grin. Our eyes locked. For a minute I thought he might kiss me there in the middle of the Piggly Wiggly, but he came to his senses and set off down the condiments aisle in search of dressings for his fifteen bajillion salads.

As it turned out, shopping with Luke was good for my health for a variety of reasons. Not only did he save me from a sudden spike in blood pressure at the Miss Lottie-Miss Georgette blockade, but it was very difficult to justify Twinkies and Ho Hos when he was buying dried beans, cheese, tofu, and frozen vegetables to steam. Inevitably, we landed in the produce section.

“Hey, have you ever tried clementines?” Luke asked.

“No, but I do love melons,” I said, waiting patiently for him to look up and see the two melons I was holding in front of my chest.

“Very funny,” he said before taking each of the honeydews and putting them back gently on the appropriate stack.