Six Miles From Nashville (8 page)

Bill
watched her as she trotted on the sidewalk in front of the large picture window. “Don’t take too much to make that good woman happy. That’s what I say.”

He took a clipboard and headed for the kitchen. He had time to do a proper inventory of his stock and
intended to place an order before the day ended. The girls’ names were written on a stenographer’s notebook hanging on a nail by the door on the kitchen side of the wall. He had made a fresh page for them to mark their hours.

They
had been with Sweetie and him for years except for Betty. It seemed that the energetic girl breathed new life into the place. He saw that the trash can was half full, so he took it to the dumpster. His car sat nearby and he remembered a box that he intended on bringing inside in case Sweetie wanted to use some of the stuff to decorate with.

He had just put the box on the table of the back booth when Sweetie came huffing and puffing with her arms loaded. “
Bill! Bill! I found just the thing! The girl at the five and dime said that yellow, orange, and avocado are the rage right now. Look, I found these big metal orange flowers with the avocado green leaves on them. Aren’t they striking next to the yellow paint?”

“You are a wonder, Miss Sweetie! It looks just fine.”

“What’s in the box, Bill?”

He frowned and nudged it away. “Well, I had some stuff I thought might look nice in here.”

“Let’s see.”

He opened it to reveal a large stack of records. “They were from when we went around together. I thought it would remind us of all the fun we had if we saw some of those old song titles on the wall.”

“We don’t want to ruin them, but I think we can hang them from the hole in the middle.”

“See, there’s ‘Walkin’ the Floor Over You’ by Earnest Tubb.”

She hopped up and down in excitement. “I love dancing with you to that song.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t I try to find a jukebox to put over here between the kitchen and washrooms? I’m sure the customers would like it.”

“Really? I know I would love it.”

“How about I make a little
step up stage in case someone with some talent comes in and might share a song with us?”

“I don’t know where it would fit.”

“This back table would work on a platform. Whenever we have somebody here to sing or play, we can take the table to the back room. Shoot, we could have one night a week be for live music!”

“Course, we can’t afford anybody high priced, can we?” Sweetie
’s face was flushed with excitement.

“Nope, we don’t pay ‘em. They sing for tips and practice. Who knows, it might help bring us new customers.”

“We are just a stone’s throw from Nashville. It might work.”

The rest of the day the two discussed the future of their small business and hung their new metal flowers and sprinkled old black records among them. When they finished
, they declared the old place was finally up to date.

“It kinda reminds me of the opening to the Glen Campbell TV show or even Laugh In.” Sweetie said in a high pitched
giggly voice.

“Better that than Hee Haw. That decoration has taken over Nashville. I am tired of it,”
Bill declared with conviction.

Sweetie paused to look at her husband. She hadn’t seen him this excited about their cafe in years.
He was so handsome with his dark brown hair and large chocolate colored eyes. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he grinned at her. It occurred to her that he was only thirty years old. Surely it was his turn to do more than cook for the cafe. It was worth all the work and expense to see him with a happy expression on his face.
Thank You, Lord. I hope it lasts.

When Betty Barnes walked through the door to the cafe she thought she was in the wrong building. Susan and
Daisy had arrived and stood in awe of the place. “Why, it looks kinda uptown, don’t it?” Daisy asked.

Miss Sweetie and
Bill greeted them warmly. “I hope you got some rest. We are liable to be busy once word gets out about how nice the place looks,” Bill said with a nod.

“Sure nuff. It does look nice,” Susan said.

Soon the morning crowd shuffled through the door. They slid into their regular seats and looked at the old records on the walls.

Frank Miller pointed
at one with a dark red label, ‘Candy Kisses’, my wife loved that song. It brings back some pretty good memories.”

“Too bad they are just memories. Don’t she give you kisses anymore?” Henry teased.

“None your business.”

“Hey, you’re the one that brought it up.”

Betty took out her order pad quickly and greeted them with a sparkling smile. “Frank, do you want the usual or should I add a side of toast to your coffee? We have some really good jam that Miss Sweetie put up last year to go on it.”

“Sure. That sounds real good.”

“Me, too,” Henry urged.

Betty tilted her head a bit and said, “Henry, I had you as a cinnamon roll man. Since you are so sweet and all, I was absolutely sure you would go for those that
Bill made this morning with white icing on them.”

“I’ll take some of them
, too.”

“Are you sure you want more than one? They are pretty big.”

The man assured her, “I will take at least two. If they are too big, I’ll take one to Harriet.”

“Good. I love for my customers to have more than coffee for their breakfast. After all,
Bill is a great cook.” She took the little green order slips and clipped them on the wheel.

Bill
leaned in and read the order. “You got those old misers to order food? How on earth?”

“All I had to do was remind them of your good cooking.”

The other waitresses had noticed how Betty handled her customers and decided to give it a try. Soon the order wheel was full. Bill and Gus worked the griddle at top speed to keep up with the influx of orders.

At eleven the little cafe experienced a lull. Bill walked out of the kitchen and mopped his forehead. “What was that? Did every resident of this community come in for breakfast today?”

Sweetie put her arm around his waist and leaned her head on his chest. “It was only the regulars. You know, the coffee drinkers. Betty and the gals got them all to thinking about how good you can cook. I guess it made them hungry. You ought to see how full that cash register is.”

Bill looked at the clock over the register. “It’s almost time for the lunch crowd. We better get a move on it. Betty, could you make tea? I just don’t see how I will have the time.”

“Sure thing.”

“Honey, do you need me to help you in the kitchen?” Sweetie asked.

Bill patted her on the shoulder and walked to the kitchen. “Naw, you got your hands full out here.”

The little cafe got so busy that Bill had to hire a dishwasher and another waitress. Sweetie joined him in the kitchen and thrived using her skills in pie making. Her talents were many in the dessert department. Each day one pie was put on special. Most residents of the village marked time by what pie day it was.

While Betty enjoyed the good working environment, nights alone in her little apartment were sad to her. Every
day she felt more removed from the people she loved.

She took her turn at the cash register and took the stack of letters from the mailman when he came in for his mid-morning break. She hurried to the small office where Miss Sweetie made out the food orders and paychecks to see if there was anything for her.

About once a month she got a letter from her mama and daddy. It seemed that they had forgiven her for lying to them. They were doing well. The words became fuzzy as tears clouded her vision. Even though her mama said the right things, there was an unseen wall between the lines.

She gasped as she read the postscript.

Some fella came by here looking for you. He said his name was Johnny, but I told him you didn’t know anyone by that name. He looked mad and drove off kicking up dirt like nobody’s business. I didn’t think you knew him, else you would have told me.

Mama

Betty grabbed her stomach and groaned loudly. “Oh no! He came to see me. He must think that I didn’t want to see him. I’ve lost him for good.”

Miss Sweetie opened the door and stepped in. “I couldn’t help overhearing. What happened?”

Betty pointed to the ending of the short letter. Sweetie read it. “That don’t mean nothing.
Johnny came to see you. You have to write to him and let him know where you are.”

“I can’t write to him!”

“Why not?”

“It would be...ah...forward.”

“Now I have heard it all! Your mama probably told you that nonsense. It wouldn’t be forward since he came to see you and missed you. He has no idea where you are and you can let him know.”

“I don’t want him to think that I expect him to come here to see me. It is a long way from his home.”

Sweetie scoffed at the young thing wrestling with her upbringing. She plopped on a big rocking chair next to the desk. “Do you think I got Bill by being all shy and coy? No! I am ten years older than him. All the town gossips had a lot of ammunition with that  bit of information. I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“I loved that boy. I lived a long loveless life before I met him and I didn’t want to live another day without love. He was only sixteen when we married.”

“But, I had a baby...and...I’m not...”

“You’re not what? You aren’t crazy. You aren’t living at home being a slave for your mama? So, you had a baby. It isn’t like you are a bad person because of it.”

“I gave him away! That makes me a bad person.”

“Does it really? If you could see that little boy now with his adopted mama and daddy, do you think those people would think you were bad? You gave them a wonderful gift.”

“A wonderful...gift.” She melted on the desk top in sobs. “God gave me a wonderful gift and I gave him away.”

“Darlin’, you didn’t have a plan. You were a very sick little girl when you came here. What good would it have done that little child to have been on the street laying next to a dead mama? Didn’t you realize that you were more dead than alive when you got here?”

Betty became
quiet. Miss Sweetie’s view of the things she had done didn’t sound like the things she knew her mama would have said. “Why are you being so good to me?”

Miss Sweetie knelt on the floor and put her head in the girl’s lap. She wrapped her arms around Betty’s waist and so
bbed. “Our little girl died.”

“Your little girl?”

“Some wouldn’t call her little, but she was our precious child. She was only thirteen when a man ran over her right in front of the high school after a ballgame. He didn’t see her in time. We found out later that he had been drinking quite a bit in the bleachers. He killed our little Christiana.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s been three years. She would have been sixteen by now. You see, I would give anything to have my baby girl back. I wouldn’t care what she had done. We would still love her to pieces.”