Reinventing Leona (4 page)
Leona felt her blood pressure rise. “Mother, this is not the time—”
Her mother flashed the flattened palm again, the unarguable signal that nothing Leona said would penetrate that rigid wall. “No matter our differences on child-rearing, it’s ridiculous for you to spend what little money you have on taxi fare. I can ring my chauffeur, tell him to pull into the airport parking garage, and wait for David.” She handed her purse to Maxine.
“Mother, you don’t need to do that.”
She slipped out of her fur coat. “Nonsense. My driver can sleep in the limo. He does anyway. He thinks I don’t know his habits, but I can tell when someone’s been dozing on my nickel.”
Leona’s mother dropped her coat in Maxine’s lap. The weight of full-length ermine nearly knocked the elder’s wife off the couch. Sinful thoughts of Maxine flat on her back and smothered in weasel hide momentarily relieved the pressure building between Leona’s eyes.
Parker Kemp cleared his throat. Leona’s mother turned her salon-coiffed head. “Do I know you?”
“Uh . . . excuse me, Mrs. Worthington.” He reached around the prickly woman and offered Leona his hand. “Mrs. Harper, I’m going to have to be going. I’m so sorry about Reverend Harper. He was a good man.”
“Thank you, Parker.” Leona smiled at the scrawny teenager who had grown into a strapping young man almost overnight. She blinked back a sudden wave of tears threatening to spill over and ruin her mascara. “He thought the world of you. Said the Lord’s church would be just fine if there were more young men like Parker Kemp.”
Parker’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down; then he gave a nod. “How about I come over first thing in the morning and run my leaf blower over your sidewalks?”
Though touched that someone would think to make everything just right for the onslaught of sympathizing well-wishers certain to descend upon her, Leona shook her head.
I don’t need help.
Then, catching Parker’s helpless look, she realized yard work was his way of easing her burden. Reconsidering would comfort him as much as it would help her. “That would be real nice, Parker. Thank you.”
He gave a pleased smile, then turned and strode through the crowd, his dark unruly curls head and shoulders above every concerned caller in the room.
“Isn’t that the boy who had a crush on Maddie?” Her mother’s narrowed eyes followed Parker to the door.
“That was years ago, Mother.”
“Well, I’m glad Madison did not allow herself to fall for that. Can you imagine what would have happened to the girl if she had ended up stuck here? She would have dried up and blown away just like . . .” Leona’s mother let her sentence hang in the tense air.
“Like me, Mother?” Leona sat on the couch, trying to breathe, but once again Roberta Worthington had managed to suck the oxygen right out of the room. “Parker is not stuck here. The man has a master’s degree in agriculture. We are lucky to have him as our county extension agent.”
“Our tax dollars at work.”
“Mother, really, everything is not about money.”
“Isn’t it? We’ll see how you feel once you realize that no-account husband of yours has died and left you penniless, without even a home to call your own.”
Leona felt as if her mother’s jeweled hand had slapped her across the face. Except for the sound of Nola Gay’s fork attacking a dessert plate, silence fell over the packed living room. Leona struggled to recover, locating her voice in the process. “How could you say such a cruel thing?”
Her mother’s gaze panned the church members whose contributions had maintained the tiled roof over Harper heads for years. Stopping on her daughter, she lifted her chin. “When you realize what a pickle you’re in, Leona, don’t come crying to me.”
“Pickles?” Nola Gay spit the word out around a mouthful of chocolate cake.
Etta May’s face flashed pleasure. “Leona’s mother must garden too, Sister.”
“Bertie!” Roxie appeared at the living room doorway, hands on her hips, fire leaping from her eyes. “Let’s take this conversation to the kitchen.” She bulldozed her way through the crowd, took Leona’s mother by the elbow, and marched her past the swelling murmurings.
Roxie had threatened to put Leona’s mother in her place for years, and secretly Leona prayed she’d do it tonight. But what good would it do, really? Roxie could point out all sorts of things Leona could never say, even toss in a few expletives, but it wouldn’t change the fact that her mother was right. No matter what kind of brave face she put on in front of the curious onlookers, Leona knew one daunting question remained: what would the dried-up preacher’s wife do without her preacher?
Leona’s head drooped into her hands. She was unable to stop the tears that had been dammed up since Charlie Copeland closed his silver paramedic case and exited Mt. Hope’s small stage with the love of her life.
* * * * *
“Hey, Cotton.” Maddie released her luggage handle and made a beeline across the baggage claim area. She threw her arms around the janitor’s thick neck. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
She loved how Cotton’s starched and pressed denim shirts always smelled of Lysol and furniture polish. Everything about this dear man was clean, no dirty little secrets waiting to be thrashed like a throw rug strung on a clothesline.
Cotton’s sky-blue eyes twinkled under an awning of snow-white brows. “Wouldn’t have had it any other way, Monkey-shine.”
Maddie smiled at the sound of the nickname Cotton had given her when she was eight and David was ten, and he’d caught them swimming in the sanctuary baptistry.
They had just moved to Mt. Hope. The parsonage didn’t have a pool, and Momma didn’t allow mixed bathing with the sinners at the public pool. So when David suggested they spend the hot summer afternoon swimming in the baptistry, Maddie jumped in with her big brother. After Cotton fished them out and delivered their dripping bodies to the parsonage door, Momma scolded, “Stay away from the water until you learn how to swim.” Maddie remembered pondering the preposterous contradiction of that statement. It made no more sense than her famous “Stay away from the piano until you can play.” Or “Stay out of the kitchen until you can cook.” Now that she thought about it, the private swimming lessons Momma insisted they take after the baptistry episode were a safeguard for Momma’s future.
Cotton pressed a piece of his trademark peppermint candy into Maddie’s hand and brought her back to the somber present. “That all your luggage?”
“Didn’t exactly have time to pack like I normally do.”
Maddie popped the peppermint in her mouth. She watched a relieved expression cross Cotton’s weathered face. No doubt he remembered all the times her excessive-baggage tendencies had forced him to repack the U-Haul trailer before the youth group could set out for camp.
But a girl could never be certain which shoes would be needed until after her outfit decisions were finalized. “Shoes make an ensemble,” Momma always said. But how she would know, Maddie could not figure. Momma had worn the same brown flats or sensible black one-inch heels for years. Maddie glanced at the expensive birthday boots she had on her own feet. When they came in the mail, why hadn’t she realized Momma must have done without all these years so she wouldn’t have to?
Maddie swallowed. How did a person learn to do without? Become proficient in having less? Raw nerve endings jolted her spine straight. She would never be accomplished in doing without her father, nor would she ever want to be.
“You wait here.” Cotton crossed to the moving turnstile and took the handle of the abandoned wheeled carry-on. He pulled it to where she stood, unable to move.
She put her hand on his sturdy arm to steady herself. “Did Daddy suffer?”
“No, Monkey-shine. J.D. Harper went home rejoicing.” His eyes glistened as he told Maddie of the congregation rising to their feet when the good pastor dropped on the stage. “While we waited on the ambulance, Wilma Wilkerson fired up the organ and led the choir in several verses of ‘It Is Well with My Soul.’ It was as if the angels themselves had swooped in to escort a fine man to his heavenly reward.”
The simplicity of Cotton’s faith tugged at Maddie’s knotted insides, but made no headway in untangling the mess. Any man who could see the face of God in toilet bowl rings had a grasp on something she didn’t know if she would ever embrace. The medical missions trip she’d taken to Central America while she was in college exposed a side of God she didn’t understand. How could a caring God allow so much suffering? Either he wasn’t so caring, or this God her parents crammed down her throat did not exist. This conflict had bolstered her determination to become a doctor. She would put a stop to pain, with or without the help of the Almighty.
“And Momma?” The words grated Maddie’s throat.
“Leona is . . . Leona.” He gave Maddie a knowing wink. “A tower of strength.”
Momma was a tower all right. A buttoned-down, impenetrable fortress where no emotions ever got in and, even more importantly, no emotions ever got out.
* * * * *
David rapped his knuckles on the limo window, startling Melvin and nearly sending him through the closed sunroof.
Melvin scrambled out of the car. “Glad to see that you got the page. I’m to take you to Mt. Hope straightaway.”
“Thanks, Melvin. Sorry to make you wait half the night.”
The chauffeur opened the backseat passenger door. “No problem. I should have you home in time for a hot breakfast. Climb in, Mr. Harper, and I’ll get your bags.”
Being referred to as Mr. Harper stopped David cold. His full name was James David or J.D., like his father. Momma had agreed to the repeat because David, her favorite Old Testament hero, was not only a man after God’s own heart, but a decent songwriter. Momma would be the first to admit that she had always been a sucker for a tear-jerking lyric.
Who could possibly fail the Lord with such solid biblical credentials bestowed upon them since birth? David tossed his briefcase into the backseat.
He ducked his head and slid across the supple leather seat. Gliding his hands along the limo’s expensive interior, an anxious tingle traveled through his extended limb. He knew the feel of parchment cream buckskin was why he had attended law school. Grandmother had been right in her prediction that one day David would want the helm of the law firm his grandfather had left him, along with all the perks that accompanied the position. That day had come.
Wrestling with his decision had grown wearisome, and he was finished with the struggle. When this current term was completed, he was coming home to finally put his law degree to work. It felt good to know he had a plan. A direction. By this time next year, if all went according to his projections, he would be well on his way to claiming a rich heritage in one of the city’s most prestigious firms. Soon he would take his place in the nicest neighborhoods, drive the newest cars, and garner more respect before he was thirty than a pastor could in a lifetime.
Grandmother would be thrilled. Momma would be another story.
Melvin closed the trunk, then hopped into the driver’s seat.
David waited until the tight-packaged man was buckled up. “I take it that Grandmother is already in Mt. Hope?”
“Dropped her off last night, then came back to fetch you.”
“Bet the parsonage was crawling with people.”
“There were a considerable number of cars along Church Street. Every light was on in the house.”
“That was fireworks, Melvin.”
The driver cast a confused glance in the rearview mirror. “Fireworks, sir?”
“You know, after Grandmother waltzed in and told Momma this was the best day of her life.”
Melvin returned his focus to the road. “I wouldn’t know, sir. I left Mrs. Worthington’s bags at the door.”
David stretched his legs, resting his head against the plush leather. Blinding rays of sun broke over the horizon and pierced the tinted windows. David squinted, trying to block the image of his grandmother’s face, smug in the knowledge that she had been right all along.
Maybe he was selling his soul to the devil, but he was going to need the old battle-axe on his side if he had any hope of fending off the guilt churning in his gut.
Resting her chin on a cupped hand, Leona sat at the table in her darkened kitchen, swirling a spoon through a mug of cold coffee. For some reason the tune “Because He Lives” played in her head, despite the fact that she wasn’t sure she could face today, let alone tomorrow.
The parsonage’s antiquated heater clattered to a halt, but neither the racket nor the ensuing silence disturbed the dog snoring under her feet.
Leona ran her roughened soles over Tater Tot’s silky coat. She burrowed her toes deep into the furry warmth of her faithful companion. Once the children left home, she’d shifted her attention to growing out the long, curly feathers of the family’s cocker. But when his buzz cut reached the desired length, Tater’s treat-thickened torso appeared to be twice its actual size. Leona dismissed J.D.’s complaints of wooly bear hair all over his favorite recliner. Maintaining Tater’s tangled skirt seemed to make the Harper nest less empty. Now she realized her efforts were merely a trick that lulled her into believing she was still needed.
The steady rise and fall of the old pooch’s barrel chest vibrated under her feet, but did not quell the panic rising from Leona’s unsettled gut. Tater was loyal, but she doubted his presence would fill the huge crater her husband’s sudden departure had created in her heart.
And that was J.D.’s fault as well. After all, acquiring the buff-colored cocker had been his idea. But early on, the dog had taken up with her. Leona figured this honor was due to the fact that she was the one who fed the animal and took him out to do his business. Tater’s respirations labored under the weight of her weary feet.
All of the Harper pets had been named in order to create one simple carbohydrate. The trend started when the kids named the Easter bunny Reeses, followed by Peanut the gerbil, and capped off by the faithful yard dog, Buttercup. Put them all together, and David and Maddie had been the proud owners of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Repeating the clever combination to their friends garnered the Harper children a great deal of respect among their peers. Thus, when Peanut died, leaving a hole in the renowned empty-calorie lineup, J.D. felt an obligation to replace the gerbil.