Just Shy of Harmony (13 page)

T
he phone rang as Jessie Peacock was carrying in the groceries on a Saturday in early February. She set the groceries on the counter and picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“I’m looking for a Mrs. Jessie Peacock,” a woman’s voice said.

“This is Jessie Peacock speaking.”

“Mrs. Peacock, you don’t know me. My name is Norma Baxter and I live up in the city. My husband got transferred in 1974 so we had to move. Before that we lived in Amo.”

“I see.”

“Do you know where Amo is?”

“It doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It’s right in between Hadley and Stilesville. Maybe you’ve heard of Hadley. The church there has a big fish fry every year.”

“No, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of Hadley,” Jessie said.

“Well, like I said, we live in the city now.”

“That’s nice.”

“Not really. It’s awful noisy, and there are too many cars.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I tell you something else. It doesn’t smell very nice in the city, either. Boy, what I wouldn’t give to smell a little manure every now and then.” Norma Baxter sighed.

“I hate to be rude,” Jessie said, “but I’m carrying in my groceries and the ice cream’s melting. Was there a reason for your phone call?”

“What kind of ice cream?”

“Pardon me?”

“What kind of ice cream is melting?”

“Oh, butter pecan.”

“That’s my favorite. I knew we’d have something in common.”

“Mrs. Baxter, is there a reason you called?”

“Well, yes. I think I might have something that belongs to you.”

Jessie thought for a moment. “I haven’t lost anything.”

“Well, I tell you, this past Christmas, my husband—his name is Orville—bought me a quilt. Well, Orville, he knows how much I love quilts and how much I miss living in the country, so he went and bought me a quilt at a little antique shop here in the city. Paid four hundred and fifty dollars for it! Can you imagine that? I told him that was too much money, but he made me take it anyway. Orville’s sweet that way.”

Jessie thought her legs were going to give way. She plopped down in a kitchen chair and took a deep breath. “Is it a wedding ring quilt?”

“It is.”

“Does it have the initials J.L. in the corner?”

“It does.”

“Those are my great-grandmother’s initials. Her name was Julia Lindley. She made that quilt for my grandmother as a wedding gift.” Jessie began to weep.

“There now, honey, dry up your tears. Like I was saying, Orville got me that quilt for Christmas, but I made him take me back to the shop, and the lady there told us how you and your husband had come back to get it, but by then Orville had already bought it. So I guess the reason I called is that I don’t feel right having your grandma’s quilt, and I thought you might want it back.”

“Oh, I do want it back. Yes, I do.”

“Well, the thing is, Orville went kind of overboard on the quilt. That’s the most money he’s ever spent on me. We’re not rich people. I just wish I could afford to give it to you, seeing as how it was your grandma’s. But if you could maybe pay us back the four hundred and fifty dollars, that would be nice. You wouldn’t have to pay it all at once. You can take the quilt and just send me the money as you get it.”

“Oh, no. The money isn’t a problem. I’ll be happy to pay you for it, plus extra for all your trouble.”

“It’s been no trouble at all,” Norma Baxter said.

O
rville and Norma Baxter drove out to Harmony the next day. They wanted to see the Peacocks’ farm and smell the manure. They pulled in the driveway around one o’clock, just as Jessie was pulling the pot roast from the oven.

Jessie and Asa had gone to church that morning. Sam was back in the pulpit. He preached about the sheep and the goats and the final judgment, which kind of surprised everyone. They thought sure he’d go easy on them his first Sunday back. Damnation is not Sam’s usual topic. He told how Jesus will one day judge the nations and how those who helped the needy would be welcomed into heaven and those who didn’t would be cast into the devil’s fire. It made folks squirm.

The only people not squirming were the Friendly Women, who had been hard at work helping the needy. They’d held three bake sales for the Flemings. Their goal was to raise one hundred thousand dollars, but to date they were ninety-nine thousand, one hundred and fifty-eight dollars short. So Sam laid it on pretty thick.

The only thing holding up Sally’s treatments is the money. Sally’s father has had his bone marrow tested and is a strong match. Sally had phoned and told him about her leukemia, and he’d come to her as quickly as he could. He’s felt guilty all these years that he never did much for his little girl. Now is his chance to redeem himself. He’s ready to go.

After Sam’s sermon, Sally stood during the prayer time and told about her father being a good match. All across the meeting room, people smiled. They’ve been following the Sally Fleming drama closely. Fern Hampton has had the church praying for Sally every day. She’s assigned every family in the congregation a half-hour prayer slot and ordered them to pray for Sally each day during their half hour. There weren’t enough people to fill the hours, so Fern is praying the night shift. She sits in her chair in her darkened living
room and imagines Sally is well and healed and laughing with her children. Then the sun comes up and she bakes a pie for the bake sale.

Jessie and Asa were talking about Sally as they waited for the Baxters to come with the quilt. They’ve wanted to give Sally the hundred thousand, but Jessie was afraid if they did, the church would lose its momentum and go back to arguing about whether to add on a gymnasium.

“It’s a real quandary,” she told Asa. “Sally needs help, but it’ll be better if the church does it instead of just us. The church needs to experience how good it feels to make a difference.”

Asa was adding up some figures at the kitchen table. “Well, the way I got it figured, it’ll take three hundred and fifty-four more bake sales for the church to raise the money. That means Sally won’t have the money for another…let’s see…six years and nine months.” He set down his pencil. “She’s a goner.”

Just then Orville and Norma Baxter knocked on the kitchen door.

“Come in, come in,” Jessie called out.

The men shook hands and the women hugged.

“My, what a pretty place you have here,” Norma said. “It reminds me of the farm I grew up on.” She sighed.

“Say, that’s a nice barn you got there,” Orville observed. “It looks new. What happened to your old barn?”

“It burned,” Asa said.

“Oh yeah. How did that happen?”

Asa hesitated. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I don’t blame you one bit. It’s probably too painful to think about.”

“That’s it exactly.”

Norma was carrying an avocado Samsonite suitcase. She placed it on the kitchen table, unlocked it with a tiny key, and opened it.

“Here it is!” she cried, pulling the quilt from the suitcase with a flourish.

Jessie held it to her, smelling it. It smelled just like her grandmother. Suddenly, Jessie was six years old again and sleeping in her grandmother’s feather bed. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“It smells just like Grandma’s house used to,” she said.

Norma and Orville Baxter beamed.

“This sure was good of you folks to do this for Jessie,” Asa said, his voice husky with emotion. “Can’t tell you how grateful we are.”

“Well, I just think a body ought to do good whenever they can,” Norma said.

“Won’t you stay and eat Sunday dinner with us?” Jessie asked. “I just took the pot roast out of the oven.”

Norma glanced at Orville, and he gave a little nod.

“We’d be happy to,” she said. “It smells wonderful.”

J
essie went to the cellar and brought up green beans and corn she’d canned the summer before.

They ate in the dining room, which got used only on special days like Thanksgiving and Christmas and the day you got your grandma’s quilt back. After dinner, Jessie made coffee and cut slices of pie. Orville Baxter
had two pieces, then leaned back in his chair, and patted his stomach. “The corporation is expanding,” he said proudly.

Norma Baxter giggled, and Jessie beamed.

Asa went and got the checkbook from the top drawer of their bedroom chest of drawers. “We want to pay you what you paid, plus a little something extra for all your trouble.”

But the Baxters wouldn’t take extra money, so Jessie gave them the rest of the pot roast and pie, plus three jars of green beans from the cellar. Then they showed the Baxters their new barn.

“Pure heaven,” Norma sighed.

It came time for the Baxters to leave, and Jessie and Asa waved good-bye from the driveway.

“Come back anytime,” Jessie yelled out. Orville tooted the horn good-bye.

Jessie went inside to finish cleaning up from dinner while Asa went to the woodshed and brought in an armful of wood. He built a fire in the fireplace. They didn’t do that too often—only on special days like Thanksgiving and Christmas and the day you got your grandma’s quilt back.

They sat in front of the fire talking about their day, then about how they could help Sally Fleming.

Asa said, “I know you’re worried that us helping Wayne and Sally will hurt the church. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Maybe it’ll inspire the church. Besides, Wayne and Sally’ll need lots of other kinds of help.”

“I don’t know,” Jessie said. “I just wish the Lord would let us know what to do. Maybe give us some kind of sign.”

They sat staring into the fireplace. Asa rose from his chair and knelt to poke at the fire. He stayed on his knees by the hearth, thinking. “You know, I think we should call Sam and talk with him about it.”

“That’s a fine idea.”

S
am was taking a nap on the couch when they called. Barbara nudged him awake. “Telephone, honey.”

Sam groaned. “Tell whoever it is I’ll call ’em back.”

“It’s Asa Peacock.”

Sam sat up on the couch. “Asa Peacock? He never calls. I wonder what’s wrong.” He hurried into the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“Hi, Sam. This is Asa. Sorry to bother you, but Jessie and I was wondering if we could maybe talk with you? It’s important.”

“Sure, Asa. You want me to come out there or do you want to meet at the meetinghouse?”

“Why not let’s meet at the church. We can be there in just a little while,” Asa said, then hung up the phone.

“What did Asa want?” Barbara asked.

“He and Jessie need to talk with me.” He paused, thinking. “I hope they’re not having marriage problems.”

B
ea Majors was at the meetinghouse, practicing the organ. She saw Sam come in and go into his office, then a few minutes later saw Jessie and Asa slip into Sam’s office and pull the door shut.

That’s curious, Bea thought. I wonder if Jessie and Asa are having marriage problems…

She stopped playing and walked quietly to the office door. Jessie was speaking. Bea could barely hear her. She moved a little closer.

“We don’t know what to do,” Jessie was saying. “We’ve talked and we’ve prayed, but we can’t seem to work it out.”

They’re getting divorced, Bea surmised to herself. I knew having all that money would ruin their lives.

She crept outside and drove home, pondering the hardships of life. You think you know somebody, then this happens. A divorce! Who would have thought it? I think I’ll call the Friendly Women so we can be praying for them.

“I
understand your concern,” Sam said. “And while it would be nice if the church could raise all the money, I don’t think it’s realistic. It would take too long.”

“Six years and nine months according to my figures,” Asa said.

“That’s a lot of bake sales.”

“Three hundred and fifty-four more.”

“She’s a goner,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Well, Jessie and Asa, I’ll tell you my opinion. I think people ought to do good whenever they can.”

Jessie looked up, startled. “That’s exactly what Norma Baxter said. She said folks ought to do good whenever they can.”

“Who’s Norma Baxter?” Sam asked.

“Orville Baxter’s wife,” Asa said.

“Oh.”

Jessie rose to her feet. “Thank you, Sam. You’ve helped us more than you know.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

They shook hands, put on their coats, and walked outside.

“Can we give you a ride home?” Asa offered.

“No thanks. I think I’ll walk.”

It was a little after five o’clock and the sun was setting. The town was closed up. The square was empty. He stopped to look at the pocketknife display in the plate-glass window of the Grant Hardware Emporium, just as he had stood and gazed at it when he was a little boy.

His son Levi has been asking for a pocketknife. He wants to carry it in his pocket and learn to whittle. He’s promised not to open the blade unless Sam is around. Sam thinks he might buy him one. After all, life is so fleeting, so tenuous, that if you can do someone even the smallest good, you ought to do it.

I
t’s been a busy February in Harmony. The radio station over in Cartersburg, WEAK, held a drawing for a seven-day trip for two to the Caribbean. The raffle was a fund-raiser for Sally Fleming, even though Asa and Jessie had given a hundred thousand dollars to help her cause. Their gift made no difference to the Friendly Women, who are bent on raising funds and won’t be stopped. It was Fern Hampton’s idea for WEAK to set up a card table at the Kroger, in the produce aisle next to the banana rack, and raffle off a trip to the Caribbean for a dollar a chance.

There was a bit of a scandal when the WEAK disc jockey taped a poster to the banana rack showing a woman in a bikini on the beach. It embarrassed the Friendly Women to have their noble cause tainted by such carnality. The poster wasn’t particularly revealing, as the woman was an inch tall and standing behind a palm tree. But as Fern pointed out, it doesn’t take much to inflame the passions in February. She took a magic marker and colored a dress on the woman.

Still, the Friendly Women raised quite a bit of money at the WEAK Caribbean Trip Giveaway, on account of most everyone in town bought several tickets. The women have been talking about it down at Kathy’s Kut ’N’ Kurl. They talk about winning the raffle and going to the Caribbean. They aren’t sure they’d take their husbands.

“Why ruin a good trip?” Kathy says.

If one of them wins it, the women have decided they’re all going to go. “Maybe then the men will learn who really keeps this town going,” Kathy says. “Maybe that’s what it’ll take for them to appreciate us.”

Kathy is thinking of becoming the first woman in Harmony with a hyphenated last name.

Sam Gardner didn’t buy a ticket. He’s too busy to go to the Caribbean. He’s been going to the hospital in the city twice a week to visit Wayne and Sally. Ellis Hodge usually goes with him. They sit in the cafeteria and drink Cokes with Wayne while Sally has her chemotherapy and radiation treatments.

Being men, they don’t talk about Sally’s illness.

“Yeah,” Ellis said to Wayne, “you ought to bring your boy out and come ice fishing sometime soon. Me and Amanda caught a nice little mess of bluegill last week. You ought to come on out sometime.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to do that one of these days.”

They talked about whether the church should build on a gymnasium.

“It’s gonna come to a head,” Sam said. “Dale Hinshaw and Harvey Muldock won’t let it drop. You watch and see. They’re just waiting for the right moment.”

Then they talked for a while about the Peacocks and how nice it was of them to give Wayne and Sally a hundred thousand dollars. Ellis said, “Well, the way I see it, what’s the use of having money if you can’t help folks? That’s just the way I see it.”

They sipped their Cokes.

“Say,” Ellis said, “is it true what they’re saying about the Peacocks?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “What are they saying?”

“Miriam heard they’re coming to you for marriage counseling.”

“Not that I know of. But maybe they did and I missed it. I’ve been kind of distracted lately.”

Ellis had read in Popular Mechanics about a new electric lawn mower that mows the yard all by itself. They talked about that for a while. Ellis is suspicious of the whole thing. He thinks it can’t be trusted.

“What’s to keep it from running right over you? You watch and see, there’s gonna be lawsuits with this one. I tell you what I’d like to see invented. I’d like to see someone invent a toilet seat that lowers after you’re done using it. Amanda and Miriam have been after me something fierce about that. We can put a man on the moon, but we can’t invent a toilet seat that lowers on its own. I wonder why that is?”

Then they talked about whether it was a waste of money to go to the moon.

The only thing they didn’t talk about was Sally and her leukemia. It’s too awkward, them being men, and especially with Sally’s husband right there with them. But Wayne appreciates Sam and Ellis visiting nonetheless. He gets lonely. They’ve given Sally medicine to
help with the pain, and it makes her sleep. The nurses come in and talk with Wayne but they’re too busy to stay long, so Wayne is always glad to see Sam and Ellis.

W
ayne’s parents come on Sundays. It makes him uneasy. They hadn’t wanted Wayne and Sally to marry. Wayne’s mother had said some cruel things to Wayne, and though he’s forgiven her, he doesn’t like having her around.

One day at the hospital she pulled him aside and said, “Maybe you better stay in touch with that nice girl you were dating, just in case Sally doesn’t make it. What was her name? Deanna?”

Wayne wishes they’d stay home.

Sally’s father comes on Saturdays. He lives in the next state over. He confided to Wayne, “I wasn’t a very good father after Sally’s mom died. It kinda threw me for a loop.” He sits beside Sally’s bed and cries. Wayne never knows what to do. He pats him on the back. He’s not sure what to say, so he doesn’t say anything—he just pats a little faster.

Dr. Kinnan has said that when Sally finishes with the radiation and chemotherapy, they’ll do the bone-marrow transplant. Then Sally will have to be in an isolation room until the new bone marrow takes hold. She could be there for months.

Wayne’s taken time off from his job at the Kroger. Jessie and Asa’s hundred thousand dollars went straight to the hospital, so Wayne and the kids have been living on the WEAK Caribbean raffle money and
the ten thousand dollars the church took up in the special offering the Sunday Dale Hinshaw preached.

Deena Morrison has been staying with the kids out at the trailer. She works at the Legal Grounds while the kids are in school, then Mabel Morrison takes over the shop. Barbara Gardner goes in on Tuesday and Thursday evenings to help close up. Sam stays home and watches the boys.

The first night they built a fort down in the basement. Sam strung clothesline from the furnace over to the shower stall, and they draped blankets over the line. Sam and the boys eat supper down there on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Guy food. Wienies and beans. One night they even slept down there.

On the third Thursday of February, Sam didn’t even go to the monthly elders meeting. He stayed home in the fort with his boys. With Sam gone, Harvey Muldock and Dale Hinshaw resurrected the idea of adding on a gymnasium to the meetinghouse. They think Harmony Friends Meeting should sponsor a seminar on church maintenance for church trustees from the central Midwest. “We could hold it here if we had a gym,” Harvey pointed out.

Harvey and Dale had come up with the idea during the February men’s breakfast. They were the only ones to show. They got to talking about what they might do to attract more men to the church, which was when Harvey had the idea of a seminar featuring the latest in power tools and maybe a lecture by Bob Vila.

A gymnasium, they reason, is the perfect venue for men’s ministry. They could shoot some hoops, then Bob Vila could talk about tools and home repair. Then
Dale, carrying through on the home repair theme, could talk about our Father’s many mansions. Dale believes someone has to take care of those mansions—caulk the windows, scrape the paint, and plug the roof leaks. He thinks the church trustees should be prepared.

“So the gymnasium isn’t really for us,” Dale told the elders. “What we’re really doing is equipping folks to serve the Lord into eternity.”

Harvey nodded his head in solemn agreement.

When Miriam Hodge told Sam about it the next day, he was glad he’d stayed home to eat wienies and beans in the basement with his boys.

B
arbara looks forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays at the Legal Grounds. She goes in at five and doesn’t get home until around nine. She likes it that Mabel doesn’t talk about the church. They talk about books they’ve read and world affairs.

All her married life, Mabel had voted a straight Republican ticket under orders from her husband, Harold, proprietor of the Morrison’s Menswear shop. But ever since he died, she’s been reading books about Harry Truman and the Kennedys. She even took down the framed picture of Richard Nixon that had hung in their living room since 1968.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she told Barbara one Tuesday night, “I miss Harold, but I always felt I lived in his shadow. It wasn’t easy being married to a pillar of the community.”

“Don’t I know it. You should try being married to a
minister. People think the only thing you can talk about is church. And it’s all Sam talks about. Are all men like that?”

“My Harold was. Everything revolved around the shop. We never even went on vacation. We’d go to the annual International Shoe Company customer appreciation dinner in St. Louis. Twenty-one years straight. It’s the only place I’ve ever been.” Mabel sighed.

Barbara patted Mabel’s hand. “Maybe you’ll win the radio trip to the Caribbean. I’ll pray for that to happen.”

But she didn’t pray too hard, because she wanted to win that trip herself. The only place she’s been lately is up to the city to visit Sally Fleming. She and Miriam Hodge drove to the hospital the last Saturday in February. They left the kids at home with their husbands. Barbara said to Miriam, “I know it’s Sam’s job to visit Sally, but if I was lying in bed throwing up and my hair was falling out in clumps, the last thing I’d want is a bunch of men standing around gawking at me. I wouldn’t care if one of them was my pastor.”

They stayed a couple hours. They caught Sally up on all the news and told her about the WEAK Caribbean Trip Giveaway. Sally mostly talked about her kids. She hadn’t seen them for several weeks. She worried it would frighten them to see her bald, so Wayne had the kids draw her pictures, which Barbara and Miriam thumbtacked to the bulletin board in her hospital room.

It makes Sally cry to look at the pictures. Stick drawings with the words We love you written in
crooked letters along the bottom. She remembers how she ran away and is wracked with guilt.

“But when that doctor told me I had leukemia, I just wasn’t thinking,” Sally confided to Barbara and Miriam. “I just felt I had to leave. I couldn’t bear the thought of the kids watching me die the way I watched my mother. Then I got to missing them so much I had to come back.” She began to cry. “I guess I’m not much of a mother.”

“There now,” Miriam said, patting her arm. “Don’t talk that way. You’re a good mother. You were just confused, that’s all.”

Barbara isn’t sure what to think. She talked about it with Miriam on their drive home. “I really like Sally, but I don’t see how she could have just left her family like that.”

Miriam thought about that for a while, then said, “Well, Barbara, we just never know what we’ll do. People do odd things when they think they’re going to die. When I had breast cancer, I didn’t tell my sister until after it was all over. I just couldn’t deal with her knowing.” She paused. “You think you know how you’d handle being something, but you don’t until it’s happened to you.”

“I guess you’re right. I hope I never have to find out.”

“I hope you never have to either, Barbara. I will say one thing, though. When you’ve survived a bad sickness, life takes on a certain appeal it never had before. It’s really hard to have a bad day.” Miriam laughed. “Though I must admit that an elders meeting with Dale
Hinshaw can make the grave seem a welcome prospect.”

I
t depressed Barbara to see Sally. It’s been a hard year, what with Sam’s struggle and everyone talking about him behind his back. She walks into the Kut ’N’ Kurl, and the ladies smile and change the subject. Some days she wishes Sam had gone into a different line of work. She’s never told him that, but she wishes it just the same.

She’s hoping they’ll win the Caribbean trip for two. She’d bought ten raffle tickets. She called Sam’s brother, Roger, to see if he could watch the kids, just in case.

Barbara even ordered a new bathing suit. The UPS man delivered it the last day of February while the boys were in school and Sam was at work. She tried on the bathing suit and studied herself in the mirror.

Not bad for a woman pushing forty with two kids, she thought. Not bad at all.

She hid the bathing suit in her bottom drawer.

She could use seven days in the Caribbean. She’s not sure Sam would even go if they win. She can hear him now: “I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem right for us to go on vacation, what with Sally in the hospital and all.”

But there’s always someone in the hospital. There’s always a crisis. He complains about the church never giving him a vacation, but the truth is he wouldn’t go on vacation if they did give him one. Sam’s idea of a vacation is a three-day visit to her parents’ house. Even then he calls the church once a day to check with Frank the secretary.

If she wins the trip, she’s going—with or without him. She’s going to pack her swimsuit and fly to the sunny Caribbean. If Sam won’t go, she’ll take Mabel Morrison. They’ll sit beside the pool, and when the waiter walks past she’ll say, “Hey there, buddy, could you pour me another one?”

It’s been a long year, and she could use the break.