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Authors: Ann H. Gabhart

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BOOK: The Scent of Lilacs
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“I just know.” Tabitha grinned at Jocie. “The same way I knew you were going to be a girl before you were born.”

Their father frowned. “You remember when Jocie was born?”

“Well, yeah, Dad, of course. I was almost seven. I sort of felt bad being so excited with DeeDee being so mad about it all. You remember, don’t you, Dad? She didn’t come out of her bedroom for weeks. Months maybe.” Tabitha looked at Jocie. “It didn’t have anything to do with you, Jocie. She hated being pregnant when I came along too. She wouldn’t let anybody see her but Mama Mae for months before either of us were born. DeeDee can’t stand not being skinny. She told me I’d hate it too, but so far it hasn’t bothered me except for needing some bigger clothes.”

“Mrs. McDermott out at church might have some maternity clothes. Her baby’s not very old. Of course, she’s not very skinny,
but I’ll bet she knows somebody your size you could borrow some from,” Jocie said.

“At church? I don’t know what she’d think.” A worried frown scooted across Tabitha’s face.

“She’s way too nice to say anything mean, isn’t she, Daddy? I’ve never heard her fuss about anything.”

“She’s a good woman,” their father agreed.

“I guess I could go to church this week,” Tabitha said. “Aunt Love’s been after me to go, and maybe if I went it would make her feel better. Think it would mess things up too much for you, Daddy?”

“Nothing that the Lord can’t take care of, sweetie,” her father said.

Tabitha laughed. “We know how to keep him busy around here, don’t we?”

“Maybe we should ask Leigh to come along too so the folks out there won’t know what to talk about first.” Jocie looked up at her father’s face. “I could call her and ask her for you if you want me too.”

“That won’t be necessary,” her father said without really meeting Jocie’s eyes.

Jocie grinned. “You’ve already asked her. Gee whiz, things are getting too crazy around here. You should have seen Aunt Love getting on Wes’s motorcycle. I wish I’d had a camera.”

“People can surprise us,” her father said.

Jocie’s grin disappeared. “I didn’t mean to make fun.”

“I know,” her father said. He put one hand on Tabitha’s shoulder and the other on Jocie’s and drew them in a circle. “Come on. Let’s pray for Aunt Love and for ourselves.

“Dear Lord, forgive us our sins this day and help us to be full of forgiveness toward others. Especially send down your loving-kindness on Aunt Love this night and help her to make peace with her past. Give Tabitha courage and strength and love. Bless Jocie
and help her to know to do what’s right. Use me, Lord, in your service and help me know how to help others in their spiritual journeys. Thank thee for the blessings of the day and for the trials that move us closer to the center of thy will. Amen.”

Once Jocie lay down on the cot out on the porch, her bones ached. She was that tired, but still she couldn’t go to sleep. Too many thoughts were zapping around in her head. She dangled her hand over the edge of the cot to touch Zeb’s head and stared out the windows at the stars. Suddenly one of the stars fell in a flash of light. Seeing a shooting star always made her feel honored, as if God had staged a show just for her. “O the mighty works of thy heavens,” she whispered. Aunt Love said something like that whenever they were outside at night. Psalm something.

Would Aunt Love get up in the morning and burn the biscuits and quote Scripture to Jocie the same as every other morning? And what would Jocie say if she did? Or if she didn’t. She thought about getting up and going to ask her father, but he was going to be different too. Asking Leigh to church. Maybe to get married next. Then Tabitha going to church—tummy poking out and painted rose and all. Sunday was sure to be interesting.

Of course, if the Mt. Pleasant folk voted them out, they wouldn’t have to deal with the sacks of cabbage and zucchini anymore, although Jocie was beginning to like zucchini bread.

And she could stop worrying about being nice to Ronnie Martin. She’d been struggling with that a little more each week anyway.

Paulette Riley had told her last week she should just go ahead and punch Ronnie in the nose and get it over with. She and Paulette had both helped with the babies during Bible school, and Jocie had found out Paulette was just as worried about starting high school as she was.

Of course, with everything else that had happened, starting high school wasn’t all that big a problem. Thousands of people
started high school every year. And as Paulette liked to say, it was rarely ever fatal. Of course, Paulette had a mother who had already noticed her need for the proper undergarments.

Jocie pushed that worry out of her head. She still had over a month before school started, and bras just didn’t seem that important tonight. Not when Aunt Love’s words kept echoing in her head. About her father and the baby. And trying to burn down the house. Jocie wouldn’t be making any more jokes about the house burning down because Aunt Love forgot the bacon.

Jocie shifted on the cot to try to get more comfortable. She shut her eyes on the stars and tried to think of nothing, but crazy thoughts kept shooting through her mind. Her mother had hated being in the family way. But why had her father frowned when Tabitha talked about it? Maybe if she asked, Tabitha would tell her more. Maybe she could go ask her right now. Shake her awake and say, “Tell me about when I was born. Did it make everybody happy?” Everybody always seemed to be happy when a new baby was born in the church. Had her father laughed?

And who picked her name—Jocelyn Ruth? Jocelyn wasn’t in the Bible. It sounded like a Bible name, but a Sunday school teacher had checked for her years ago in this big book where every word in the Bible was written down. She’d shown Jocie how it went right from Jobab to Job’s to Jochebed.

Jocie had felt lucky at the time that she hadn’t been named Jochebed. But at the same time she figured her daddy would have picked a Bible name, so her mother must have named her. For some reason, she’d been afraid to ask her father. Just like she had always been afraid to ask him much about her mother. He always looked so sad whenever her mother was mentioned. Not just for himself, but for her too. But now if he was going to start noticing Leigh, things would be different.

Things would be different all right. But different good or different bad? In the house she heard the clock strike twelve.
Tomorrow already. Maybe if she said a prayer, the Lord would settle her thoughts down and she could go to sleep.

Dear Lord, I’m not praying a stepmother prayer. I’m going to leave that up to Daddy. But I do thank you that Daddy is my father. Help me be the kind of daughter he can be proud of. Bless Aunt Love and forgive me for the times I’ve been mean to her. And thank you for letting me see the shooting star. Now help me to quit thinking so much so I can go to sleep. Amen
.

She opened her eyes and looked at the stars again. She started counting in the top left corner of the window frame. She was asleep before she got to fifty. She dreamed about babies.

J
ocie didn’t know who was the most nervous Sunday morning—Tabitha or Leigh. Or maybe Jocie herself, since she was nervous for both of them. Even her father seemed half undone when they got to Mt. Pleasant and saw Leigh’s car parked across the way. He jerked the car to a stop a cat’s whisker away from the concrete retaining wall at the edge of the parking area and muttered something about the brakes needing work. He ran his hand through his hair and straightened his tie before he climbed out of the car.

Leigh was still sitting in her car in the parking area across the road as if she hadn’t worked up the courage to climb out and join the folk chatting in the churchyard. A few of them were shooting curious glances toward her car, but they were politely waiting for Leigh to get out before descending on her to welcome her to Mt. Pleasant.

Jocie’s father helped Aunt Love out of the car and gave Tabitha’s shoulder a little squeeze. Then he smoothed down his tie one more time, tucked his Bible under his arm, and marched straight across to Leigh’s car. When she saw him coming, Leigh climbed out of the car and started toward him, but her full yellow skirt had caught in the car door and she almost fell. David reached out a hand to steady her. For a moment Leigh looked mortified, but then she laughed. Jocie’s father laughed too as he opened the car door to free her skirt.

Jocie still wasn’t so sure about this stepmother idea, but from the look on her father’s face, he was getting surer by the minute. Jocie looked around for Paulette’s car but didn’t see it. She would pick this Sunday to miss.

Silence fell over the churchyard as the folks still outside the church shifted their eyes between the preacher and his family. Tabitha moved closer to Aunt Love and whispered, “Can I just stay out here in the car? They look like they’re going to eat me alive.”

“It will be all right. I’ll be right beside you, and your father won’t be far away.” Aunt Love took hold of Tabitha’s arm and moved her gently toward the steps.

“I haven’t been to church since I was Jocie’s age. Not even at Easter. I won’t know what to do.”

“Church hasn’t changed that much,” Aunt Love assured her.

“Yeah, it’s easy,” Jocie said. “Just smile and nod when people talk to you, bow your head when somebody’s praying, don’t talk when the Sunday school teacher’s reading the lesson, and sing when everybody else sings.”

“Sing?” Tabitha croaked. “I can’t sing.”

“Nobody else here can either. Wait till you hear. So it’ll be okay,” Jocie said, then added with a grin as Leigh and her father walked up, “Except Leigh. She can sing. Maybe you can get her to do a special, Dad.”

Leigh grabbed her neck as panic flashed through her eyes, but then she laughed again. “Are you trying to make trouble, Jocie? Tell you what, we’ll make it a duet. The two of us. I’ll let you pick the song.”

“How about ‘Hound Dog’?” Jocie suggested.

Leigh twisted her mouth to keep from smiling as Jocie’s father gave Jocie his stern church look. “No ‘Hound Dog,’ even in the churchyard.”

“It might make them quit staring at Tabitha and Leigh and
start staring at me. I’m used to it, so it wouldn’t bother me. But if you don’t want me to sing, I could do cartwheels or something.”

“Just behave, okay?” her father said.

Jocie sighed as they climbed the concrete steps. “Just trying to help.”

“If you want to help, go be nice to somebody,” her father suggested. “Say, Ronnie Martin.”

Leigh grabbed Jocie’s arm before she got too far away and whispered to her, “You can be nice to me. If I get much more nervous, I may be the one doing cartwheels.”

Mrs. McDermott came toward them carrying little Murray, who was reaching toward Jocie. “Here, Jocie. He’s crying for you already.”

Jocie took the baby and swung him in a little circle while her father said, “Good morning, Dorothy. I’m sure you know my friend Leigh.” When Mrs. McDermott smiled and nodded, he went on. “I guess Leigh knows everybody, working at the courthouse the way she does. And this is my daughter Tabitha.”

“It’s so good to have you here with us this morning. Both of you.” Mrs. McDermott said. She gave Leigh a knowing look and then settled her eyes on Tabitha. “My heavenly days, dear. You look just like your mother did when she was about your age. I used to ride the school bus with your mother. She was already in high school when I started school, but I remember how pretty she was. And you’re every bit as pretty.”

“Thank you,” Tabitha murmured.

“I suppose you’re finding things a lot different here than in California,” Mrs. McDermott said. “But I’m sure you’ll enjoy hearing your father preach. We just love Brother David here at Mt. Pleasant and, of course, all his family.”

She paused for Tabitha to say something, but Tabitha just kept smiling while at the same time looking as if she might have to throw up any second. She moved a step closer to Aunt Love.

Mrs. McDermott took pity on her and turned to Aunt Love. “And how are you this morning, Miss Love?”

Aunt Love looked the same as on any other of a hundred Sundays. Her navy dress was neatly pressed, with a few white cat hairs clinging to it here and there. Her gray hair was coiled tightly in the bun at the back of her head as always. It was as if the day when they’d buried the baby’s bones had never happened. Nothing had changed. Except for the red hat perched on her head. Jocie didn’t even know Aunt Love owned a red hat. Maybe she had forgotten which colors were which. Or maybe she was turning somersaults in her own way.

BOOK: The Scent of Lilacs
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