A Cherry Cola Christmas (5 page)

 

Maura Beth and Jeremy had just finished another round of their energetic lovemaking in her brass bed and were cuddling in the afterglow when the phone rang on the nightstand. They weren't going for a record or anything like that, but the honeymoon had continued in their bedroom without a hitch. Yes, it was true that the routine of everyday life had kicked in for both of them and brought them down to earth, but so far, they had kept Key West alive and glowing in their flushed cheeks and throbbing pulses. Their marriage was off to a fast start.

It was Jeremy who reached for the receiver, and playfully said, “The McShay residence. You have reached the party to whom you are speaking.” This was followed by a couple of quick snorts and a contortion of his face.

They both chuckled as he listened briefly and continued. “It's Terra Munrow. But I think you'll have to wait until she stops laughing.”

“Give me that!” Maura Beth told him, snatching the receiver with a wry smile in place and propping herself up against her pillows. Then she got down to business with her tall, edgy stylist. “Jeremy's thinking of quitting his teaching job and going into stand-up comedy in case you're wondering what that was all about. But please, talk to me about Cherico Tresses and these rumors.”

At the other end, Terra's laughter shifted into an even higher gear for a moment. “Your Jeremy is too much, girl. I wish my Ricky had that kinda sense of humor. We went up to Memphis to eat tonight, and that's why I'm so late getting back to you.” There was a pause after which Terra's tone changed dramatically. “But to answer your question about the salon—yes, I'm afraid it's true. Miz Shirley Coates—she's our owner—is shutting us down and moving the salon over to Corinth about six weeks from now. Of course, she's letting us all keep our jobs if we want 'em. She says we can make more money over there, and our business has been falling off steadily for over a year now. I know I've lost three of my best ladies in that time, and none of 'em were unhappy with me. They all said their husbands got better jobs somewhere else, and they were leaving Cherico. So, I've been telling all my clients about the move one by one as they come in, and you're scheduled for next week, I believe. I hope you don't think I was ignoring you—because I wasn't.”

Maura Beth tried to sound matter-of-fact but fell short. “No, I would never think that, but I sure wish you were kidding about this.”

“I wish I was, too, but I'm not.”

“But who's going to do my hair now? The Cut-Up is a train wreck. I went there when I first moved up here, and they gave me what I still call the perm from hell. I looked like Little Orphan Annie's big sister and went around for weeks trying to cover it up wearing one of those pretty picture hats. I mean, you would have thought I was getting ready to go to the Kentucky Derby all the time!”

There was more laughter from Terra and then another pregnant pause. “Well, I know the price of gas is through the roof and all, but I'd love it if you drove over so I could keep you as a client. Could you manage it? Ricky and I aren't giving up our place here because of his job, so I'll be commuting, too.”

“Sure, I'll drive on over,” Maura Beth told her in a tone of resignation. “I can afford it now with the raises we've all gotten from the generous endowment my Cudd'n M'Dear left the library. And now that I know you aren't going to be closing down permanently, I'm not so panicky. I have to admit, those rumors had me going for a while. By the way, are you still going to be calling it Cherico Tresses?”

Terra's chuckle had an ironic edge to it. “Almost. Miz Shirley says she's gonna call it Cherico Tresses of Corinth, so people won't be confused. Uh, well, you could've fooled me. But Miz Shirley said it has to do with name recognition and all. Well, it's her business, so I have to stay out of it.”

“Forget about that. Just give me directions and I'll be there.”

“Hey, I'll even draw you up a map when you come for your appointment next week so you won't get lost.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Thanks for clearing everything up. As far as I'm concerned, you're the best stylist ever.”

After hanging up, Maura Beth brought Jeremy up to date on everything, sounding somewhat reassured. “I guess I can stand change if it's not too drastic,” she concluded. “Just don't throw too much at me at once.”

Jeremy flashed a devilish grin as he fingered a few locks of her auburn hair like the attentive husband he was. “Hey, I learned how seriously you women take your hairstyles long before I was married to you. Mom wouldn't think of leaving our house in Brentwood and going to her boutique down at Cool Springs without being properly coiffed and made up, and now I see it's definitely not a generational thing. You always show up at the library looking hot.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you men have it easy,” she told him, pretending he had said something out of line. But her quick smile gave her away. “You barely run a brush through your hair when you get up in the morning, you glance to the right and then to the left, and that's it.”

He inched a little closer and pointed to his crown. “Are you saying you like my cowlick?”

They enjoyed a soft, lingering kiss; then she said, “That's not the only thing I like about you.”

The phone rang again, startling them both, and this time it was Maura Beth who answered with a simple, “Hello?”

“Hi, girl. I hope you weren't asleep,” Periwinkle said at the other end, sniffling loudly as she spoke.

“No, we were up,” Maura Beth replied, eyeing the digital clock on the nightstand. “Is something wrong?” Alerted by the alarm in his wife's voice, Jeremy immediately sat up with a frown.

“I'm afraid so.” Periwinkle was clearly choking up now. “I'm . . . sorry. I have some terrible news, and if I sound strange . . . it's because I've been cryin' up a storm. It was all I could do to get myself together to call you.”

A spurt of adrenaline coursed through Maura Beth's veins. “For heaven's sake, what is it?!”

“It's Parker's mother, Ardenia,” came the constricted reply. “She died tonight. When he got home from work, Parker found her on the sofa—just staring at the TV and stiff as a board. Of course, he's in a state of shock, and I'm not much better. She was the sweetest little woman, once you got to know her.”

“Oh my God, what in the world happened?!” The receiver nearly slipped out of Maura Beth's hand, and Jeremy continued to look concerned.

“Parker said they won't know 'til they get her to the medical examiner, but it could have been her heart,” Periwinkle continued. “That's what the paramedics told him was most likely after they tried to revive her with those paddle things. He followed the ambulance down to the morgue at Cherico Memorial. He's probably gotten there by now.”

“Where are you?”

“Almost there myself. I was halfway home when he called me sobbing, bless his heart.”

At that point Jeremy could stand the suspense no longer, vigorously nudging Maura Beth and cocking his head emphatically.

“Periwinkle,” she whispered, covering the receiver. “Mr. Place's mother died tonight.” The creases across Jeremy's face quickly deepened further.

“Maura Beth, are you still there?” Periwinkle asked, somehow sensing the lack of attention.

“Yes, I'm here. Do you want me to come down there to be with you? I'd be more than happy to.”

“No, you get a good night's sleep. I'll call you tomorrow as soon as I know something about the funeral arrangements.”

Maura Beth was trying her best to steady herself, reaching out to grasp Jeremy's hand. “Oh, I'm so sorry, Periwinkle. I'm sure you know you'll both be in my prayers. Jeremy's, too—I just whispered to him what happened.”

“You and I—we've always been there for each other, girl.”

“Yes, we have. I don't think I'd have ever lasted at the library those first few years without your support and advice. I was so naïve about everything. Now you call me in the morning.”

After the conversation had ended, Maura sat stunned for a while but eventually was able to tell Jeremy everything further he needed to know.

“That's a terrible break for Mr. Place,” he said, shaking his head. “I really like him, and he's one fine pastry chef.”

“I'm glad he and Periwinkle have become so close. I definitely know that he helped her through all that trouble she had with Harlan. Now she can do the same for him.” She gave Jeremy a bewildered glance. “But I'm about ready to turn off every phone in the house. I've had all I can stand for one night.”

 

Maura Beth was not surprised that she had trouble falling asleep. The image of Mr. Place discovering his mother just would not leave her alone, torturing her every time she became the least bit drowsy. She and Jeremy had talked it all out as best they could, and she had even gone into the bathroom and taken a couple of melatonin tablets; but nothing seemed to be helping.

Finally, she slipped off. But her dreaming attempt to resolve the activities of the day was even worse than being awake and tossing and turning. She was slowly driving down Commerce Street in her little Prius, looking right and left into store windows, hoping to spot criminal activity of some sort but finding none. In fact, she was so absorbed in her detective work that she did not see what was lying in wait for her. Just ahead, a great gaping crater opened up, and she drove her car right to the edge. It teetered there, balancing precariously. Somehow she was able to slide out of the front seat and peer into the abyss below. That sinkhole she had contemplated during the day had arrived and appeared to be spreading outward in all directions.

She had to step back as it pursued her—and then she was on the run. As she looked over her shoulder from time to time, she noticed that buildings on both sides of the street were falling into the bottomless pit below. And then it came to her that if she ran fast enough and far enough, she could seek asylum in Ardenia Bedloe's house on Big Hill Lane.

In a flash she was there, urgently knocking on the front door, and calling out: “Ardenia! Ardenia! Please help me!”

But no one answered even though she kept right on knocking without letup. Would the sinkhole end up devouring them all?

At that point she woke up, her heart pounding. She looked over at Jeremy, who was fast asleep on his side, facing away from her as usual. She decided not to wake him, working through her nightmare by herself. It was then that the faintest beginnings of an idea began to come to her, what with the holidays not all that far away. It was perhaps something that no one would have considered at first to cure what ailed Cherico. And maybe it couldn't solve all of their little town's mounting problems; but it might just be a good start. For the time being, she decided to file it away. She was certain she would know when to trot it out for all the world to see.

5

Yes and No

V
isitation for Ardenia Bedloe in the Fellowship Hall of the Cherico African Methodist Episcopal Church was well under way when Maura Beth and Jeremy arrived to find a room full of impeccably dressed people paying their respects against a backdrop of impressive funeral sprays. More than a few mourners seemed completely carried away by their emotions and were standing close to the open casket, sobbing and moaning with their eyes cast heavenward; others were managing hushed conversations some distance away; and still others—many occasionally wrestling with small, squirming children in their Sunday best—were sitting in the chairs against the walls, observing it all in polite silence.

As for the young McShays, they were slightly apprehensive about their appearance, since the only person they knew for sure was Mr. Place; but they were soon put at ease by the smiling, prosperous-looking gentleman in black robes with purple trim who greeted them as they walked in.

“You folks must be Maura Beth and Jeremy McShay,” he said, extending his hand. “Just call me Brother DeLee. I'm the pastor of our little church, and I want to welcome you.”

Handshakes were exchanged all around, and then Maura Beth added, “How did you know who we were, Brother DeLee?”

“I was just told to be on the lookout for a right pretty redhead, and you do fit the bill and then some,” he said, pointing to her hair with an expression of delight. “You know, Sister Ardenia spoke so highly of you all the time. She kept tellin' me I oughtta join that little book club you started at the library because she had such a fine time there. She said between the delicious food and the folks and all the chatter—well, it was all done up just right.”

“You should take Ardenia's advice, Brother DeLee,” Maura Beth said. “We would love to have you join—and any other church members you think might be interested in reading books and potluck. We're very informal about the whole thing, and we want The Cherry Cola Book Club to include as many Chericoans as possible.”

Brother DeLee pointed to a large cork bulletin board just inside the doorway. “Well, you're more than welcome to tack anything up about the club right over there. I'll bring it to the church's attention every Sunday, too.”

A sudden commotion across the room at the casket turned their heads, and it was then that Maura Beth spotted Mr. Place consoling a rather heavy woman wearing a navy blue dress and pillbox hat who had apparently broken down and begun wailing with no letup in sight. She had managed to make herself the center of attention. Periwinkle stood nearby in silence holding her hand, very nearly in tears herself at the spectacle.

“Oh, may the good Lord ease her pain. That's our Sister Leola Perkins over there,” Brother DeLee explained. “She was Sister Ardenia's best friend. They grew up together here in Cherico and not a day went by when they didn't talk to each other on the phone, I do b'lieve. It'll take her a while to get over Sister Ardenia leavin' out so suddenly the way she did. The rest of us will take a while, too. Somehow, we thought she would find a way to outlive us all.”

“We're so sorry she's gone, Brother DeLee,” Maura Beth continued. “She was a dear woman.”

Brother DeLee briefly shut his eyes and bowed his head. “But she dearly believed, I can tell you that. She knew she had nothin' to fear in death.”

Maura Beth felt herself choking up and took Jeremy's hand to steady herself. “I can see she had lots of people who truly cared for her.”

“That's always been our way here at Cherico A.M.E.,” Brother DeLee added before gazing across the room and pointing his finger. “Oh, I see Brother Joe Sam headin' over to us right now.”

For a moment Maura Beth didn't make the connection. It had been a good while since she'd heard anyone refer to Mr. Parker Place by his given name of Joe Sam Bedloe, but she recovered just in time to give him a hug that expressed all the concern she was feeling.

“I'm so sorry, Parker,” she told him, finally pulling back. “I know how close you were to your mother. Whenever I was around the two of you, it was a beautiful thing to behold.”

“Thank you. Peri and I are so glad you're here,” he said. “You'll never know how much it means to us.”

Jeremy offered his hand. “We've had you in our thoughts and prayers since we got the news.”

The two men embraced warmly, and Mr. Place said, “Sister Leola needed a little help over there, or I would've been here to greet you at the door like I did the others. Peri's gonna stay with her a bit longer—at least until the service starts. I wanted both of you to know that I'm doing Mama's eulogy. I know she would've wanted that, and I'm not gonna let her down.”

Maura Beth was unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. “Are you sure you're up to it, Parker? I know I couldn't deliver eulogies for either of my parents. I'd be too much of a mess.”

“You'd be surprised what you can do when you have to,” he told her, patting her arm a couple of times. If he was in the midst of the grief of a lifetime, he did not show it on the outside. “This is my moment to show what Mama meant to me all my life, and I want all of Cherico to know.”

 

It was after a lengthy but inspiring rendition by the Cherico A.M.E. choir of “Blest Hour, When Mortal Man Retires” that Mr. Place stepped up to the pulpit to address the congregation with a dignity that radiated from him. Below him at the bottom of the red-carpeted steps rested his mother's closed casket adorned with a breathtaking assortment of flowers, and beyond that—stretching ahead to the front door—were the many pews filled with empathetic faces. There was not an empty seat to be had in this little universe hemmed in by stained glass. Meanwhile, three different worlds—the church of his childhood, The Cherry Cola Book Club, and the staff of The Twinkle—had merged to honor the memory of his mother and bid her farewell.

Of course, Maura Beth and Jeremy were there, but around them sat Connie and Douglas McShay, Voncille and Locke Linwood, Becca and Justin Brachle, Renette Posey, Emma Frost—but without her fragile Leonard, Nora Duddney with Wally Denver tagging along, Marydell Crumpton, James Hannigan of The Cherico Market, and several other club members from various walks of life. The Twinkle was represented by Periwinkle, her waitresses Ruby Varnell, Lalie Bevins, and her son, Barry, and her sous chef, Charlie Marks. Conspicuously absent were Mamie Crumpton and Councilman Sparks.

Mr. Place surveyed his audience with a pervasive calm spreading throughout his body. It was as if his mother were somehow there with him, whispering soothing words the way she had when he was a little boy and the thunder and lightning of summer storms had frightened him, sending him scurrying into her protective arms. The notes he had brought to refer to lay before him on the lectern, but something told him he would not need them on this crisp fall afternoon with so many hearts and minds on his side. He was certain his memory would not fail him.

“Brothers and sisters of the church and honored guests, we are here today to remember my mother, Ardenia Faye Leeds Bedloe. Most of you knew her simply as Sister Ardenia, meaning that she was a sister of the spirit to all of you. Recently, she had made a bundle of new friends at The Cherico Library, where she attended meetings of The Cherry Cola Book Club. It was my mama's opinion that she had come full circle, and I'd like to explain what I mean by that.

“When she was growing up here in Cherico, the public library was not open to her, and also not to some of you sitting out there today in these pews. She was told ‘No!' many times over the years when she tried to participate in something or other, or go into this building or that one, or get seated at that restaurant when she wanted to eat out for a change. But she told me more than once that she never took any of it personally, even when those who said no to her surely meant it personally. She said it was about them, not her. That they were the ones who had it all wrong.”

Several people cried out, “Amen!” as Mr. Place paused for a deep breath and briefly glanced at his notes.

“I'm not sure Mama ever believed things would change here in Cherico the way they have—or anywhere else in the country for that matter. She hoped they would, of course. We all did. But she never let being told no stop her from living her life the way she saw fit where it counted. Not that things were easy for Mama. My father ran out on us when I was just a little boy. That was his way of saying no to her, too. But once again, she told me when I was old enough to understand about such things that it was about him, not her. He was the one who had it all wrong.”

Again, there were cries of “Amen!” and “That's right!” as well as a widespread nodding of heads.

“I held on to that when I went to Cherico High that first year of integration here in Mississippi. I even remember thinking that first day, ‘If someone says,
No, you don't belong here,
then they're the one with the problem, not you.' But things were finally beginning to turn around by then. No one ever said no to me at school. And I want to take the time to especially thank my first homeroom teacher, Miss Voncille Nettles she was then—now Mrs. Locke Linwood—for saying yes to me loud and clear from the get-go. She set the example, and all my classmates followed.”

He paused to point her out sitting on the front pew, and she accepted his gesture with a wide smile, a gracious nod of her head, and the blowing of a kiss. A round of light applause followed but soon died down.

“When I got outta high school and was thinking about my future plans, I'll never forget the day I told Mama I wanted to be a chef and make all those gooey desserts she whipped up so well. I know some of you out there can just picture it—she put her hands on her hips, rolled her eyes like I was outta my mind, and nearly fell out on the kitchen floor—”

He paused briefly as warm laughter erupted throughout the church, washing over him like something tangible and soaking down to his bones.

“Well, she didn't literally faint, of course,” he continued, “but I can still remember what she said to me after all these years: ‘Baby, now where did that come from? You never said nothin' to me 'bout that before!' And I told her that I'd been watching her at the stove over the years—the way she'd just put in a half a cup of sugar and half a stick of butter and some eggs and flour and mix everything together, humming all the while like she was in a church choir. I kept it to myself, though. Until I knew that I just had to try my hand at it. I was willing to start at the bottom to learn, too. And that's when Mama told me she'd been ‘puttin' aside' for a rainy day from all those years of babysitting and doing housework for white folks. She gave me the money to go to Memphis and find a place to live and get started. And when the time came for me to leave, she stood at the front door of our house on Big Hill Lane and said to me once again, ‘Don't let nobody tell you no. You just keep workin' hard as you can for that yes, and I promise you, it'll come, son!' ”

The smile on his face conveyed a deep sense of satisfaction as the congregation whispered and buzzed a bit about his last statement. “And it did come,” he continued. “I got a job in the kitchen of the Grand Shelby Hotel in Memphis and did anything I was asked to do—bussing tables, doing dishes, then some waiting tables, and finally I reached the promised land of food preparation. I was a sponge. And then I learned how to make sponge cake and took it from there. Before long, I'd turned myself into a pretty good pastry chef, and every time I got compliments from a diner on something I'd made, I'd say ‘Yes!' to myself mentally and then pump my fist when I got a moment to myself. Mama knew what she was talking about all along. Her heart may have forgotten how to beat, but her legacy to me—to all of us—will never be forgotten. And so in closing I'd like to thank all of you for coming here today to send Mama off to receive her final ‘Yes!' ”

He closed his eyes as he wound up his tribute. “I love you, Mama, and I'm proud to be your son.”

The congregation rose to their feet, gently applauding as he stepped down and headed toward his seat on the front row. But it almost felt like he was floating on the way there. He could see tears on some of the faces nearest him—faces both black and white, elderly and young, churchgoers and book club members—and, of course, from The Twinkle where his reputation as a pastry chef had soared to new heights. It occurred to him that his mother might have been surprised by the turnout, but it was one he was positive she richly deserved. She had come full circle, indeed.