The Glory of Green (14 page)

"I can't believe it," Molly said, gesturing toward the house."Where did it all go?"

"Into thin air. Green dust is floating around the country right now."

"Do you think it'll change the places it touches?"

I thought at first she was joking, but the look on her face was serious, almost questioning.

"That's an interesting concept, but that stuff was only stuff.It doesn't live on. It's people who change us, not things."

"That's easier to believe when you have lots of things," Molly said. "Like saying money won't make you happy. Most of the people who say that have money."

I laughed. "That may be true to an extent, but most happiness comes from the heart. People with kind hearts like you are happy. People with money, like Chuck McCuller or Major Wilson, are often miserable, one way or the other."

"You think I have a kind heart?"

"I know you do. You're great with children and animals." I nodded at Holly Beth, now asleep against Molly's chest. "You're one of the few people Kevin trusts to keep Asa. You helped Katy when she was so sad after Matt died, and you help your mother. We're all going to miss you so much when you leave for Florida."

"I'm staying in Green."

"What?" I opened my mouth so wide a gnat flew into it.

"That's what I need to talk to you about. I'm not leaving."

"Molly, we have it all worked out. Your test scores were through the roof, and the scholarship offers are so good. You're going to love Florida."

"Maybe one day," she said. "But I can't leave now. I don't want to. I'm going to a community college in Alexandria. I'll take classes online and I'll only have to drive down there a couple of days a week."

"Are you certain?"

"I am." She stroked the dog.

"Then I hope you'll keep working at the
Item
as many hours as you can."

"Really? I wasn't sure you'd let me." Molly shifted, and Holly Beth whimpered and settled in.

"I'd be crazier than I already am if I didn't let you. Have you told Katy yet?"

"I'm putting that off as long as possible. She's going to kill me. She'll say I'm squandering my talents, but I won't be. I'll be putting them to use in a different way."

Chris's truck pulled into the driveway behind my car, and Kramer and Markey jumped out of the bed in a flash, Mannix coming out a little slower. Holly Beth yelped and ran to greet them, almost dancing in her excitement.

"I'll be right back," I said to Molly and walked quickly to greet my husband with a hug. "I'm so sorry. I won't go if you don't want me to. Green's where I need to be."

"I'm sorry, too. Go and see how this pans out. I never should have gotten angry about it."

"We've got to find a place to live," I said.

"We'll do it when you get back."

"We've only been married three months."

"We've got a lifetime."

The trip to Montana was like a dream.

My cabin had a big screened porch that overlooked a flowing stream. Every piece of furniture had been chosen with the rustic theme in mind, but it was all new and clean.

Corporate employees asked me dozens of questions about motivating a staff and covering a big story with small resources.A high-end cappuccino machine sat on a twig counter near the plank conference table, and we had fresh salads with cranberries and walnuts for lunch.

"What's your management style?" asked a woman whose business-casual outfit looked like what I wore to work on a dressy day.

"It used to be cranky," I said, "but now I'd call it friendly."

"By
friendly,
do you mean
collaborative?"
she asked.

"No, I'm friends with my staff. I do everything the personnel guides say not to do."

"How do you plan big projects, such as the investigative piece you did on political corruption?"

"I ask the staff to handle those. A young reporter named Alex did that project. It resulted in a statewide award for him and jail time for a county official."

"How did you rally your staff for the extra editions you put out after the tornado?" an executive with a beard and glasses asked.

"They rallied me. All of them gathered around me at my wedding reception and got us going. I was stunned by the tornado, but they shook me out of it."

The group seemed to fidget the longer I spoke.

"What advice would you give the leader of a newspaper in a small town?" the first woman asked, and I could see she was doodling squares and circles on a notepad with the company name on it in a typeface that looked like logs.

"Give your heart to the stories, the staff, and the town."

The check for the visit arrived within a week, enough money to pay my monthly note on the
Item.
A typed memo from the president said they enjoyed my "unconventional ideas" but were concerned the strategies would be too difficult to implement on a companywide basis.

"We've decided that hiring you for regular staff development would not work at this time. We wish you all the best."

They called Alex the next week to inquire about his interest in a reporting job.

Residents of the Marion community are upset with the placement of a new business that is part gas station, part Mexican restaurant. One of my neighbors said, "Their motto should be, 'Eat here; get gas.' " Their chicken enchiladas are quite tasty, although their gasoline prices are higher than those in town.

—The Green News-Item

W
hen outsiders spoke of Green's fighting spirit, little did they know.

With the raw grief scabbed over, people began to fight about the future.

They argued over zoning, roofers, the lack of treated lumber, and how green Green should be. Constant calls of frustration came from citizens and bureaucrats, and every community correspondent had an idea on the best way for the town to move forward.

"We have always done repairs without permits," said a woman from the garden club. "If I can't get my gazebo rebuilt, I won't be able to host the fall tea."

"Who does that mayor think she is?" another caller demanded. "I need a roof now, not a year from now."

My favorite call came from a woman up in arms over an ice vendor who had opened a small trailer on the edge of town.He supplied contractors, the handful of people still without power, and sportsmen who had given up thinking about the storm and gone fishing.

"I want to file a formal grievance against that ice man," the woman said when I picked up my phone.

"And your reason would be—?" My voice drifted off as I considered how to avoid taking calls in the future. Maybe I'd make Tammy answer my line or let everything roll to voice mail.

"I'm allergic to ice, and I don't appreciate my health being put in jeopardy." I was relieved when she slammed down the phone.

"Lois, someone here to see you," Tammy said, standing with a smirk at my office door the next afternoon. She had resumed her duties at the front counter, and took photographs when another employee was around to handle weddings, obituaries, and the phone. I was ignoring her wedding notices and impending move, now only two months away.

"Send them in."

"He wants you to come outside."

"Major Wilson's not out of jail, is he? Lee Roy Hicks?" Both men had stolen from the paper and done a list of things so wrong I hoped never to see them again. "Chuck McCuller, back from the dead?"

Tammy twirled the end of her hair, which was growing out for her upcoming marriage. "Don't know this dude, but I doubt he's a member of the Country Club set."

When I stepped out, a wiry older man sat at the bottom of the steps on a riding lawn mower, a beer in one hand and a copy of the newspaper in the other, gripped with a bandaged thumb. He had built two small wooden holders on the side of the mower, one for a drink can and the other holding a hammer.

"Is this true?" he asked, holding up the paper.

That afternoon's edition waved in the air, with a main story about an environmental group that wanted to help Green rebuild.

"Yes, sir, it is. The Green Forward group will meet tomorrow with the Police Jury and mayor to discuss what we should do."

"I can tell you what we should do next." His voice was gravelly and weak. "We tell those tree huggers to mind their own business and let us do what we need to do when we need to do it."

The man threw the paper on the ground and took a sip of beer. "I've never seen such a mess in my life." He ground the mower into gear and pushed the accelerator with a booted foot, picking up surprising speed. Cutting the corner too sharply, he rammed into the recently replaced newspaper rack in the parking lot, leaving it at a haphazard angle. He drove off down Main Street, holding his hand up in an obscene gesture as he went.

"Did he just do what I think he did?" Tammy asked.

"I believe he did," I said. "Stan is going to be so mad about that rack. I'm glad I have you as a witness that I didn't do it."

"Does that count as tornado damage on our insurance claim?" Linda asked, watching the brouhaha from the lobby.

"Everything counts as tornado damage. I think my brain has tornado damage."

Thirty minutes later we got the police call that "some fellow on a riding lawn mower was nailing the doors of City Hall shut." The story made the rounds in record time.

"He told the police he was going to make sure them politicians couldn't get out and ruin people's lives," Linda said."The chief said he seemed harmless enough, but citizens can't threaten people with hammers. Doug's pretty patient when it comes to the stupids."

"I'm going to see how patient Eva is feeling," I said. "Is she at the courthouse or the store?"

"She was leaving the command center when I went over there this morning," Tammy said. "They're cutting the hours back to half days, three times a week."

The mayor was on the phone in her office at her small department store down the street from the paper, where she had spent most of her time before the storm. Her bob hairdo, a replacement for her helmet of hair from years past, was pushed back with a jeweled clip.

"We need funding and we need it now," she said. "I don't care what fiscal year we're in." She slammed the phone down as I walked in.

"That answers that," I said, slipping into a chair in front of her Oriental desk. "I won the bet on your patience level."

"You don't have a hammer, do you?"

"Do you want to use it on anyone in particular?"

"I'm about ready to use it on every knucklehead who wants to rebuild Green into a jumbled mess and every state official who thinks our tax money belongs to another town."

"So the guy on the tractor had the right idea?"

"I only wish I had thought of it first," she said.

"What do you suggest?"

"We meet as planned tomorrow. We can take an organized, planned strategy and have a great little town, even better than before, or we can throw up our hands and have an unmitigated disaster. The future of Green depends on what we do now."

"Have any idea which way it'll turn out?"

"I'm afraid to think about it. With the highway going full steam, Green may get cut off if we don't get this right."

"I heard the Country Club has reopened for lunch," I said."How about a little renovation research? I'll put it on my tab."

The next evening, the meeting, held in the high school auditorium, opened politely enough. The Baptist preacher said a prayer and Bud led the Pledge of Allegiance, yet again wearing his volunteer patrol uniform. Eva gave a brief update on the state of Green, followed with a fire department report from Hank and a police report from Doug.

"Our main concern is shoddy construction," Hank said."If homes aren't wired according to code, we can expect an outbreak of fires. No ifs, ands, or buts." The audience, which included about fifty citizens, several pastors, and every elected official within a fifty-mile radius, mumbled to one another as he spoke.

"The biggest problem in criminal justice," Doug said, "is one we didn't expect. We knew there'd be petty thievery, but there's serious evidence of new meth labs. We're working with the sheriff's department to nip that in the bud."

"Meth labs?" a state legislator said loudly. "What's that all about?"

"We surmise it's because dealers and users think we're too busy to keep an eye on them. I can't elaborate much further.I do want to mention the need for lighting replacement throughout Green. The storm damaged approximately fifty percent of street lights, and that contributes to crime."

By the time Doug had wrapped up his report, it was apparent the air-conditioning was not working. Already mid-July, Green was approaching its hottest days and the air smelled like a school locker room. "You couldn't buy a breeze," Bud had said earlier in the week.

Eva, who I had never seen sweat, returned to the lectern, looking at the back of the room with a smile.

Turning, I saw that Dub had walked in, pushing Joe Sepulvado in a wheelchair. I watched as he maneuvered the chair to the side and slipped into a seat on the back row next to it. This had to top all the things I had experienced since the tornado, even finding Mr. Sepulvado nearly dead. Dub and his brother had let the farmer be unjustly arrested for setting fire to the Dumpster at the newspaper. Now the two looked like old buddies, although Joe was pale and thin.

"We have an ambitious agenda this evening," Eva said, "and I've asked attorney Terrence D'Arbonne from Alexandria to meet with us in case legal issues arise."

The attorney, who had briefly dated Kevin, stood and greeted the crowd, dressed impeccably in a blue blazer and tan slacks, a crisp white shirt, and no tie. "I'm happy to be back in Green. Let me know how I can serve you."

Pastor Jean was next onstage, wiping her brow. "The needs are great. We've seen an outpouring of used clothing and household items, but cash contributions do not nearly cover the requests. While national groups have raised money for victims, overall giving at local churches and nonprofits is down."

"What are you doing about it?" a member of the Bouef Parish Police Jury yelled. "Government can't solve all the problems."

I saw anger wash across Jean's face, but it flashed and disappeared.

"Thank you for the extremely helpful question," she said in what I thought of as her preacher's voice, and the Police Juror fidgeted slightly in his seat.

"Local churches have banded together to track families and collect donations. We're sorting furniture and household goods and finding that God is good at matching gifts with needs."

Pastor Mali, from a downtown church, stood, a big man with a commanding presence and a lyrical accent. He mopped his face with a handkerchief, sweat pouring off of him, his dark hair soaking wet.

"Last week a mother with infant twins came to the volunteer center crying. Her children had slept in their car seats since the night of the storm, her trailer was ripped apart. While she was registering, a church member stopped by to say she had two baby beds to donate and did we know of anyone who needed them."

A smattering of applause rippled through the room.

"Praise God," a man said.

"With the leadership of Coach Chris Craig," Jean continued, "we've set up a food distribution program that feeds dozens in rural areas."

"What about food stamps?" a member of the Lakeside Neighborhood Group asked, fanning herself with the agenda."Aren't they available?"

"We've steered many people to government programs," Pastor Mali said, "but not everyone can produce paperwork to get funds and others are too proud to ask for help. Many elderly people are hurting, because they cannot get to town for help or they do not know how to ask."

"Even though it's been several months, they continue to need food and medicine," Jean said, looking from face to face as though about to give an altar call. "We'll take gently used items, your time, and delivery help . . . and we always appreciate cash."

Laughter followed the last comment, but I felt hollow at the thought of old people alone and I wondered how the children out near where we had found Mr. Sepulvado were doing.

"As these pastors have so eloquently told us, we have many flesh-and-blood needs. We also have been inundated with demands for public projects," Eva said. "We must determine new priorities and decide if we want to pursue additional sources of money."

"Take what we can get," a City Council member shouted out.

"No way, Mayor," Jerry yelled. "We don't want to be obligated to every Tom, Dick, and Harry for how we rebuild our community."

"This is our chance to do it right," someone else said. "It's our only hope of good coming out of this horror."

Eva reached under the lectern and pulled out a hammer.Not a gavel, but a hammer.

"Order," she said, knocking on the wood, garnering laughter from the crowd. "We'll conduct this meeting with dignity, or we will adjourn." She raised the hammer again and everyone laughed more nervously, as though uncertain whether she was serious.

I swiveled in my seat and saw Dub smiling and speaking into Mr. Sepulvado's ear.

Chris had slipped in from summer school wearing Green Rabbits workout clothes. He gave a small wave, and I fanned myself with my hand and mouthed the word, "Help."

He nodded and walked out, back in five minutes with an ice chest of bottled water and a half dozen sweaty football players, who jovially handed water out.

"We will now take questions and civilized comments," Eva said. "Lois Craig will hand the microphone to those with raised hands. Shouting will not be tolerated, and, Lois, I ask you to move on if comments are inappropriate."

This should be fun.

The first question was about the need for a tornado warning system. "Are there legal ramifications for not providing a system?" a City Council member asked.

Terrence stood and took the microphone. "A parish or city is not obligated to provide such a system unless the citizens decide otherwise. I will be back to Green over the next few months holding public hearings on a variety of such issues."

"How about proposed environmental changes?" a representative from the regional economic development association asked.

Several people began to talk at once, and Eva banged the hammer on the lectern so many times that I thought the sturdy wood might fly apart. I was reminded of the first big group meeting I attended in Green, where plans for the new highway were discussed. I could have used a hammer that evening.