Eden Hill (28 page)

C
ORNELIUS SAT
at their dinette, holding his head in his hands. He dearly loved his wife and daughter, and now they were gone. It was entirely his fault, thinking he could make a living with a service station in this town. His ego, again. The blame wasn’t with Zipco or with the Bluegrass College of Business, or JoAnn, or her father, or anybody else; the problem was with him, and him alone.

So she’d finally gone home to Mother. The car was still there, so she must have had someone in her family pick her up
 
—probably her brother. He’d opposed their marriage from the start, so that would make sense. He was also in law school, so the legal proceedings would probably be next.

He looked again at the latest letter, the only good news he had. A reprieve, but only a brief one. How could he carry on without JoAnn? She’d stood by him all this time, even when he was driving their boat right onto the rocks. She and Suzy deserved better.

JoAnn was right, he’d best be connecting with a lawyer. A good one. She’d likely be calling sometime this evening to let him know to expect the papers. Probably the same day the debt deferral would run out and he’d be hauled into court. Hit with a debt he could never repay and a life that would be miserable, at best.

But if she was right about faith in God carrying people through the hard times, then maybe there was hope. Reverend Caudill had been talking about grace a lot lately. Cornelius had been taken by the idea that it might actually be true. But was it for a failure like him? Maybe the pastor needed to be his next call.

Cornelius picked up the telephone and then put it back down. It was Saturday afternoon and not a time to bother the pastor. Probably working on a sermon. He’d let it go until tomorrow at least.

In the meantime, he’d pray. In his own stumbling, awkward way, he’d pray. If there were second chances to be had, he needed one.

Mavine had spent the morning catching up from the rush. She’d hung her blue dress on a padded silk hanger by the
front door, a reminder to take it to Willett’s to have it dry-cleaned the next time she went out. This would probably be sometime next week, as the Glamour Nook had closed this week so Gladys and her daughter could visit Tom’s family. She could just pull her hair back for a week, or throw on a scarf. The dress had served its purpose well. As best she could tell, Osgood’s had far more business the past couple days than their competitor. Good.

In celebration, she was making a special lunch for Virgil and Vee: tuna-and-macaroni casserole. Actually, she didn’t have any tuna, so she substituted some cut-up catfish that Arlie had given them. There wasn’t any macaroni in the cupboard either, so she found an almost-forgotten box of spaghetti in the back of the cabinet and estimated the portions. The recipe called for cheddar cheese, which she was out of, but she did have butter left over from the cookies and some sour cream. Some onions and green peppers went in the dish for good measure, along with something called “salad topping” that came in a foil pouch. It had all gone in the oven at 400 degrees at eleven o’clock, so it should be ready when Virgil returned, which she expected to be at about noon.

At eleven thirty, there was a knock on the door. Virgil, early? Puzzled, she walked toward the entryway. Perhaps Virgil had his hands full. “Coming!” she said, and pulled on the handle.

The visitor did indeed have full hands. JoAnn Alexander stood on her porch, gingerly holding a very fussy baby in her arms. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were streaked.

“Mrs. Osgood? I’m JoAnn Alexander. We’ve met a couple of times. This is Suzy, and . . .” Her mouth kept moving but no more words came.

Something in Mavine melted. “Please come in, JoAnn. Sit down.” She motioned toward the couch.

“Thank . . . you.” She spoke her words between gasps and sobs. “Would you by any chance . . . be able to spare some milk? We have some formula left for Suzy, but we have nothing to mix it with.”

“Of course!” Mavine didn’t hesitate. Her refrigerator held plenty
 
—two full quart bottles, in fact. “Let me see what else I can find.”

As Mavine turned back from the refrigerator with milk and an apple, her heart broke wide open. “Honey, has it been this hard for you?” She poured the milk into a glass and handed it to JoAnn.

JoAnn drank over half the contents before answering. “We’ve not been able to buy food for nearly a week. Grover and Anna Belle have been very kind, but we
 
—I
 
—just can’t ask for anything more. Neil
 
—Cornelius
 
—owes so much money to Zipco, I’m afraid we’ll never be able to pay them, and we’ll lose the station and everything we have.”

Mavine was surprised to find herself on the couch, holding first JoAnn’s hand, and then Suzy, who was now contentedly enjoying her bottle.

“I’ve talked to Mother before about going home, but she now says I should have never taken up with Neil, let alone gotten pregnant and married him. I didn’t listen, and now here I am with a baby girl and a husband who’s broke. I want
Suzy to have a future
 
—something more than what we have now.”

The words sounded strangely familiar. Mavine patted JoAnn’s shoulder while Suzy drank her fill. JoAnn’s tears were falling across her hand, but Mavine’s own were now streaming down her face. “Have you eaten today, child?”

She shook her head. “We don’t have any groceries. Neil was hoping to make some money yesterday
 
—cash
 
—so we could go to Stacy’s and buy some bread and milk, but there just wasn’t enough. I don’t want to buy anything else on credit.” She stroked Suzy’s hair. “I . . . I’m so sorry, Mrs. Osgood. I’ve made you cry, and I didn’t mean to do that. I shouldn’t have come, and Neil will be unhappy with me. I need to get back now.”

“Honey, you’re staying for lunch, and that’s all there is to it. I have a casserole in the oven that’s about to burn. Please stay and let us give you a good meal.” Mavine wiped a tear. The dish probably
was
ruined, but no matter. It was food, and what Suzy and JoAnn needed.

JoAnn placed Suzy, now asleep, in Virgil’s La-Z-Boy, tipping it back so she wouldn’t fall. Mavine showed her to the table, found her a comfortable chair, and took the warm pan from the oven. Her offering was overcooked and unrecognizable but not burned, and JoAnn savored it like it was caviar. She wiped tears and drank her milk, and even ate some of Mavine’s leftover cookies from the grand reopening.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Mrs. Osgood. I just don’t know how to thank you.”

“JoAnn, you just be a good wife to Cornelius. And you’re
doing that. You love him; you care about Suzy. And you care about your own future. I am so sorry for your
 
—misfortune. I’m just glad I could help.”

“Thank you. Please don’t tell Neil I was here. And could you not tell Mr. Osgood?”

“I won’t.” Mavine dug in her purse for her egg money from the past week. All of it. “Here. I want you to take this and go up to Stacy’s for some bread and milk. Will you promise me you’ll do that?”

JoAnn was hesitant, but relented, dropping the money in a pocket and picking up the sleeping child. “Thank you for all your help, Mrs. Osgood.”

“Please call me Mavine,” she gently corrected. “I’m so glad you came over, and I’m sure things will work out. Now, if you hurry, you’ll miss running into Virgil coming home for lunch.”

JoAnn thanked her again, embarrassing Mavine, then carefully made her way back down the hill with sleeping child in arms, smiling and with her appetite satisfied.

Mavine swallowed hard.
Help?
After she was the one trying to drive the poor man’s business into the ground.

Mavine watched her until she passed Osgood’s before letting the tears flow again. It was all her fault: the grand reopening, the rush to remodel their service station, the painting and fixing up. Even the dress and Virgil’s Army uniform; that had all been her idea. And what it led to was this: a poor young mother bringing a hungry baby to her doorstep. She’d never felt more ashamed.

Mavine looked at the blue dress with the red roses. The
garment somehow glared back at her, pointing an accusing finger right in her face, the very emblem of her sin. She could never wear it again. Sighing, she picked up the dress from its hanger and walked to the back porch, where she hung it on one of the hooks. It would make a good quilt someday.

Vee came down the stairs carrying his Arthur Conan Doyle to find his mother crying again.

Virgil was surprised to see JoAnn crossing the street in front of Osgood’s, carrying what looked to be a heavy bundle and heading for the Alexanders’ trailer. He’d been learning how to use his new cash register and could see her easily through the open garage door. Curious, but no reason for alarm. Looking at his watch, he decided he’d been at it long enough. If the parts weren’t coming until Tuesday, then the Nash would just have to wait.

There were chores to be done, and fishing with Reverend Caudill on Sunday. He placed the Closed sign in the window and locked the doors. Ticky wagged her tail and followed him back up to the house for lunch, her pups underfoot.

He was thinking again. The grand reopening had been such a success; maybe it needed to be an annual event. Probably wouldn’t cost as much
 
—he had some leftover paint for touch-ups, and he could do without a men’s restroom. No premium gasoline, though, he was adamant about that.

He opened the door to an interesting aroma. “Hello, Mavine, I’m home. What’s for lunch today?”

“A wonderful casserole! I thought we’d celebrate our good fortune.”

He sat down to the table with Vee, who was looking dejectedly at the blob on his plate. Grace was said, and he took a bite. “Mavine, what exactly is this?”

She told him the full details.

He grimaced but tried to hide it. If this was food for celebration, he was glad he hadn’t failed.

Cornelius looked around the trailer for some tissues, found none, and settled for a roll of toilet paper. His stomach was beginning to growl, as he’d still not had lunch. With the thought that he’d better eat something, he opened the little refrigerator. It was as empty as his bank account.