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Authors: Brenda Bevan Remmes

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BOOK: The Quaker Café
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“Really? You stayed with her the whole night?”

             
“I did.”

             
“Did you see the Judge’s ghost?”

             
“Nope.”

             
“You sure?  I heard people saw a light out in the cotton field. They say if you see the ghost the night of their funeral it means they’re coming back to get someone else.”

             
“That’s nonsense,” Liz said as she stood up and handed Debbie her disk with updates that needed confirmation letters. “Where in heaven’s name do you hear all of this stuff?”

“I’m well connected,” Debbie said with a devilish smile.

“Then how about start connecting with that keyboard? We’ve got work to do.” Though Debbie could get easily side-tracked, Liz had learned how to stop her. The rest didn’t matter. Debbie added a bit of glitz to an otherwise sterile medical atmosphere.

As Liz sat down at her desk she shook her head in resignation
. At some point she knew someone would claim to see an apparition of the Judge. He himself had spoken of ghosts at Cottonwoods, and older homes were fodder for such stories. The fact that there were family graveyards throughout the area and that the Quakers had provided sanctuary for runaway slaves during the days of the Underground Railroad added to the folklore.

             
Liz’s personal favorite was the story of the lady on the big brown mare who rode across the old Quaker farm at daybreak when the mist was heavy. Her own son, Adam, had said that he saw her once when he was out early scouting cotton. And then, of course, there was the rhyme that all her boys sang at sleepovers with their friends. At night they’d sit on the back porch staring out into the swamp looking for the telltale lights that Chase and Liz tried to explain to them was swamp gas. Once in a while one of them would claim to see a light: they’d scream “corpse candles,” and run inside.

             
Liz would try to hush them up. If it was the middle of the night, Chase would get up and get them off the porch and back into their bedrooms.

             
“Isn’t anything out there but the swamp,” he’d try to convince them, but then Liz and Chase would hear the chant again as squealing from the basement bedrooms. Kids can’t let things go.

Listen my children and you shall hear,

The screams of a man who runs in fear.

They hung him high in a cypress tree.

Deep in the swamp of Potecasi.

He mourns his wife and weeps for his son

And swears he’ll come back for revenge with a gun.

So, if there’s a man with a lantern, be wary,

It may be the ghost of Isaac Perry.

Chapter Ten

 

 

Though Chase had promised to talk to his mother about the upcoming Easter parade as well as her grandson Nat’s wedding, he hadn’t gotten around to it. He and his father had discussed both over coffee at the pharmacy, but apparently neither of them bothered to give Euphrasia any of the details. “Let’s not worry her,” Grandpa had said. “She’s pretty flexible.”

Liz fretted over both
.
Flexible
did not describe Euphrasia in her thinking. Grandma might appear flexible to Chase and his father, but Liz knew she would run into objections from Euphrasia on both issues. Grandma never confronted Chase with her concerns; she’d always come straight to Liz. She’d assume that Liz either had a lapse in understanding or a complete disregard for Quaker values.

Not true,
Liz wanted to jump up and down. She may not have been raised Quaker as Chase had been, but she’d attended Quaker meeting for worship for twenty-five years now, and together they’d  raised all four boys within the Society of Friends.

Both the Easter Para
de and the wedding required some concessions, concessions she’d discussed with Chase. Liz had fond memories of Christmas trees decked out with presents underneath, and Easter egg hunts. She wanted to embellish the concept of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and would not give up the festive, albeit commercial, aspects of the religious holidays.

Chase knew that when Liz insisted on all the wedding trappings for her own wedding, that she would never deny her children the same luxury, should any of them ask
for something similar.

Their second son Adam had married his childhood sweetheart from another Quaker family in town
. The wedding was traditional; a meeting for worship that was held in silence. Afterwards a potluck was held on the grounds of the Meeting House. Grandma Hoole had made the wedding cake herself.

  Nat, the oldest and Grandpa’s namesake, fell in love with Alexandra Louise Lloyd at Wake Forest University
. Given that she was from a prominent Episcopalian family in Charleston, South Carolina, their wedding would be elaborate in contrast.

Grandpa had always been so grateful that Liz and Chase raised their four boys in Cedar Branch where they were a part of his everyday life, that he never objected to Liz’s desire to r
ecreate special memories for her own children
. Let each person seek clearness and find their own path in the light
was his firm belief. He had allowed Chase and Sophie to do so. He had no intensions of denying his grandchildren the same choices.

Grandma, on the other hand, feared that a lackadaisical approach into the more universal religious traditions of uniform prayer, ministered worship, hymns, and the sacraments, instead of simple silent worship, would lead her grandchildren to become Baptists or Methodists
. She was only now trying to grasp the fact that a great-grandchild might be an Episcopalian.

With the Easter Parade less than two weeks away and Mrs
. Lloyd having already called to discuss wedding plans, Liz became insistent. Chase agreed that an evening at The Quaker Café over an informal dinner might be best. They’d just mention things to Grandma in passing. The two boys would come along; Liz knew they’d create a buffer. Grandma would cushion any remarks she made in their presence.

Evan, their seven
-year-old, dressed in his sky blue Tar Heel T-shirt and a pair of jeans, played with matchbox cars which he ran along the side of the table. He had just gotten two new ones in his collection which he wanted to show Grandpa. His long thin fingers held a blue Ford T-Bird Turbo and a yellow Lamborghini Diablo. He made small revving noises as he slid them down the table. Dark silky bangs partially covered his eyes. Liz made a mental note to get him a haircut over the weekend.

“My golly, look at those,” Grandpa said as he and Grandma joined them
. He picked up one and examined it. “Bet you’re the only one in town with those two beauties. I’ll give you a dollar for them.”


Nooooo,” Evan grabbed them both and hid them behind his back.

“Two dollars?” Grandpa asked

“Nooooo,” Evan smiled. This was a game he and Grandpa played over and over with his cars, although Grandpa never went higher than two dollars, and Evan never agreed to sell.

“I could have fixed something at home,” Grandma said as she pulled up a chair to the table
. “No point in spending money to eat out.”

“The boys like
The Quaker Café. We thought we all deserved a treat,” Chase said. “It’s been a hard week.”


Whatcha got there, son?” Grandpa turned his attention to Nicholas, who was focused on a hand calculator.

“Calculator,” he said
. “Ask me something. Ask me anything.”

“What’s fourteen times fourteen?” Grandpa asked.

Nicholas punched in the numbers and quickly came up with 196. “Something harder,” he insisted.

“The circumference of the world divided by pi,” Grandpa teased.

“Grand PAAAAAAA,” Nicholas groaned. A mathematician at heart, Grandpa had predicted Nicholas would be the math teacher or the scientist in the family—always fascinated with anything he could take apart or calculate. In fourth grade he was already running circles around Liz on the computer and helping her figure things out whenever she got stuck. With curly hair the color and texture of Liz’s, he was more intense, more focused than any of the other boys.

“How’s Magg
ie doing?” Grandpa asked.

“She needs some time,” Liz said
. “She was on her way to Raleigh the last I heard, but I plan to stop by her house tomorrow after work.”

T
he café’s door opened. In walked Timmy with a basket of small brown bags each containing roasted peanuts he’d shelled. He stopped next to Nicholas and gave each of the boys a high five. “Peas?” he asked.

Nicholas and Evan giggled and slapped his hand
. He was a big kid to them, old in years only. Timmy walked in and out of the local businesses in Cedar Branch throughout the day selling his peanuts. Liz found his total acceptance by the community to be heartwarming, a statement to the adaptability of small towns and how they took care of their own.

Grandpa pulled three dollars out of his pocket and handed them to Timmy
. “Put a bag in front of everyone,” he said. Timmy proudly placed a bag in front of each person, took the three dollars, tipped his Atlanta Braves cap, and moved on to the next table. Before long he’d have enough to pay for dinner—six dollars and fifty cents.


Euphrasia, Nathan, good to see you,” Miss Ellie said as she placed a tray with six glasses of water and a basket of biscuits on the table.

“Ellie,” Grandma
Hoole reached out and took her hand, “come sit with us tonight. It’s not that busy.”

Miss Ellie squeezed Grandma’s hand
. “No rest for the weary.”

“I’m so sorry about the Judge,” Grandma said
. Involuntarily everyone glanced over at the VIP table where the Judge normally sat. No one had returned to their usual places. Memories were still too raw.

“It’s a hard pill to swallow, but life goes on, doesn’t it?” Miss Ellie said. “We wake up every morning and put one foot in front of the other to start the day.”

“That we do,” Grandma said.

“What can I get you folks tonight?”  Miss Ellie said as she took orders
. Nicholas and Evan beamed at the opportunity to have a soda and peanuts as an appetizer. The rest of the family began to reduce the basket of biscuits to crumbs.

“How are wedding plans coming?” Grandma casually asked.

“I think everything’s under control,” Liz said. “I don’t have much say, anyhow. It’s the bride’s wedding.”

“Well, I hope you’re not letting this get out of hand
. After all, Nathan is a Quaker. Her family needs to respect that,” Grandma said.

Liz gave Chase a nudge under the table. He ignored her
.  Wedding chatter continued. Miss Ellie sat a plate of fried chicken in front of Chase and two hamburgers with fries next to the boys.

Nicholas jumped in
to the talk. “Mama says Evan and I get to wear tuxedos?”

There was a pause as Grandma
Hoole looked from Liz to Chase.

“Tuxedos?  People are going to be wearing tuxedos?”

“It’s going to be a formal wedding, Grandma,” Liz said as she gave Chase something more akin to a kick instead of a nudge.
Jump in any time now,
she thought.

“Quakers have simple weddings,” Grandma said.

“Episcopalians don’t,” Liz said.

“Nat is not Episcopalian.”

“Lexa is,” Liz said and there was a poignant pause.

“Who is
Lexa?”


Euphrasia,” Grandpa raised his eyebrow. “Alexandra.”

“Alexandra is such a pretty name
. Don’t know why she shortens it. Lexa sounds like a car.”

“Look,” Chase interjected, “Liz and I have discussed this. We’d like to cover all of your expenses for this wedding
. Dad, we’ll rent a tuxedo for you. Mom, if you’d like to go buy a new dress…”

“Nonsense,” Grandma snapped. “We’re not going to be renting tuxedos or buying new clothes
. We are who we are. We’ll not dress up to pretend to be someone else.”

“Fine,” Chase said
. “That’s fine, Mom. You and Dad can wear anything you want. Nobody’s insisting you do otherwise. We just want you to be there. It’s very important to us that you and Dad are a part of the wedding.”

“And we will be, son,” Grandpa
Hoole broke the tension. “There’s nothing that could keep me away from the wedding. But we will attend as Quakers, not Episcopalians.”

“What will I attend as?
”  Evan asked.

“You’re going to be a penguin,” Nicholas teased.

“I don’t want to be a penguin,” Evan complained loudly.

“You’re not going to be a penguin,” Liz tried to reassure him and shot a warning glance at Nicholas
.

“Will there be a bubble machine like in the Easter parade?” Evan asked.

“Bubble machine?”  Grandma said with such surprise that Liz realized that neither Grandpa nor Chase had mentioned that possibility.

BOOK: The Quaker Café
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