Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (30 page)

“That's a lot of ‘ands’ Dudette. We can get married here if you like and I'm sure Mack will keep our secret, but I can't guarantee snow and we can't invite people to the wedding."

“Sure we can. I know you don't want the neighbors to know we have been lying to them about being married, but we can just tell one more lie and let them believe we are renewing our wedding vows. Hell, Tim,” she said, excitement growing in her voice, “we could have a Christmas Eve party and invite the whole town."

Tim wanted to change the subject. “Christmas Eve is fine with me, but why are you so dead set on it?"

“I'm afraid I will never become what you and Mack call a Christian. I could join the church and pretend, and for your sake, I probably will, but I have never had anything to celebrate at Christmas time. That's why I want our wedding anniversary to be Christmas Eve."

“I would not want you to join the church for my sake, Sandy."

“I know you wouldn't. I shouldn't have said that. Tim, I believe in God. I believe in a personal God. However, I don't believe in three Gods as you people do. When Silas Coan gets back, I'm going to talk with him about the Jewish faith."

Sandra saw the perplexed look on Tim's face and wished she could retract her last statement. “Dude,” she said. “You were born a Christian. That's all you have ever known. I was born a Roman Catholic, but I haven't been inside a church since my christening. I have questions. Please be patient with me."

He smiled. “I didn't know you were Catholic. Look, Dudette, I know its early, but let's get these dishes washed and head for the meeting. I don't want to be late and these icy roads may slow us down."

“Boy, the roads are getting treacherous, Mary Lou,” Mack McGee said as he stepped through the open doorway of her small home. “It was just raining when I left Winston-Salem, but the closer I got to Dot, the slicker the road."

“Come on in here out of the cold,” smiled Dr. Honneycutt. “I see you were a good boy and brought the Kentucky Fried Chicken."

“Oh, I remembered all right. How can a man who is invited to dinner forget that he was also invited to provide the meal?"

She laughed as she took the two large bags from him.

“Looks like a nice house you have here, Mary Lou."

“It's tiny, but it's home,” she said. “Let me have your coat.” She stood holding his black overcoat and looked at him. “Sit down, Mack. I'll be right back."

When she returned, she joined him at the kitchen table after pouring a cup of coffee for each of them. “I appreciate you coming, Mack. Susan is taking a shower. We have only a few minutes alone."

“Mary Lou, if this is about our brief relationship while you were a resident at Baptist Hospital, your secret is safe with me. I hope my secret is safe with you."

“I have never forgotten you, Mack. If it were not for you, they would have made a big deal out of my drug addiction and I would never have become a doctor."

“You helped me out in a difficult time of my life, too, Mary Lou."

“The sex was great, Mack. You needed it and no other man, before or since, has ever been interested in me sexually. I know I am not much to look at. Susan got all the beauty in the family."

He reached for her hand. “I took advantage of you, and for that I am truly sorry."

“It takes two to tango, Reverend Mack. I enjoyed every dance immensely. I want to dance again."

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

“Sex is a great personal need for you, Mack. That's why you were willing to settle for me when your wife left you. I don't know who has been filling that need since I left Winston, but I want to meet it when you move to Dot if you will let me."

“Your long suit never was diplomacy,” Mack smiled uneasily. “Are you talking about an affair or marriage?"

“Dot is a small town. An affair quickly becomes common knowledge. It would ruin you and not do me any good either."

“You're not going to believe this,” he said slowly, “but I haven't had sex with anyone since you left."

“You're right, I don't believe you. I just asked you to marry me, Mack McGee. I'm waiting for an answer."

“There's one little word you haven't mentioned."

“I don't expect you to love me Mack, but I love you. I always will. If you will give me a chance, I think you can learn to like and appreciate me."

“You're wrong, Mary Lou Honneycutt,” he said, slipping out of the chair and down on one knee. “I fell in love with you the day you first entered my office to seek help with your drug addiction. You are the main reason I am willing to take a $40,000 salary cut to move to Dot. I will marry you, fair maiden, and spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy."

He rose, intending to kiss her, but whirled towards the kitchen door when he heard Susan exclaim, “Oh, my God! I didn't know you were here!"

She had bounced into the kitchen wearing only her panties. She clutched her arms across her breasts and scurried back to the bedroom.

Mack looked at Dr. Honneycutt. They burst out laughing. “You're wrong again, doctor. She didn't even come close to getting all the beauty in the family.” He bent over and gave her a warm kiss while slipping his hand inside her dress and fondling the massive breasts he had missed so much.

Tim gradually applied the brakes as he neared the end of his driveway, but the Mustang did not come to a stop until it reached the middle of the highway. “Thank God there's not any traffic,” he said.

He managed to get the car turned around and headed back to the house. “I should have known better than to start out on a night like this in my Mustang. Your Cavalier has front wheel drive and much better traction."

The change of vehicles and slow driving caused them to reach the intersection of Highway 13 and the Old Charlotte Road just five minutes before the meeting was scheduled to begin.

“Not a damn car in sight,” he said as he cautiously made the necessary left-hand turn. “I don't mind rescheduling the meeting, but I do dread worrying about it for another week."

“Damn,” Sandra exclaimed when the Cavalier headlights illuminated the church parking lot.

“There must be two hundred cars here,” he said in awe.

The sanctuary of the Dot Baptist Church was buzzing with dozens of group conversations when Tim and Sandra entered. They walked down the left aisle and Sandra slipped into the pew beside the Honneycutt sisters. Tim, removing his overcoat, proceeded to the platform and stood behind the pulpit. He adjusted the knot of his tie, removed his notes from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and spread them on the lectern. Finally, he allowed his eyes to rove over the assembled citizens of Dot and noted that Diane Sizemore had set up shop beside the communion table to take notes for the
Courier
.

The din did not diminish. Tim felt a knot growing in the pit of his stomach as he realized he did not know most of the people present and they didn't know him either.

“Folks,” he said in his friendliest tone of voice, “If you will take your seats we can get started.” Gradually a few of the people began to sit down. He realized that when everybody sat down, only standing room would remain. He waited for the quiet that he expected, but it did not come. He cleared his throat and began reading his prepared speech, although he knew few were listening to him.

“I want to thank all of you for coming tonight. Frankly, due to the bad weather, I thought we would have to reschedule the meeting. I have not yet had the privilege of becoming acquainted with most of you. My name is Tim Dollar. I recently inherited the estate of my uncle, Pete Harlow. We all have at least one thing in common. We are all interested in the future of this fine community."

“I ain't payin’ no more taxes!”

Tim searched for the source of the booming bass voice that finally quieted the crowd.

“I pay Federal and State Income Taxes, Social Security Taxes, Medicare Taxes, Property Taxes, Capital Gains Taxes, Sales Taxes to the state and Sales Taxes to the county, Gasoline Taxes and Lord knows what else. No more taxes!"

Tim found the speaker on the front row to his right. He was a giant of a man with snow-white hair and flashing blue eyes. His blue denim bib overalls did not seem quite large enough to cover his massive chest. The man punctuated his speech with the wooden cane in his hand. His ultimatum elicited from his friends a chorus of “Amens” and “tell it brother."

“Sir,” Tim meekly replied, abandoning his prepared speech, “What I hope we can accomplish tonight is to discover whether or not we
want
to make any changes in Dot."

“Same thing,” the man bellowed as he stood up using the cane for leverage. “If you change things you've gotta pay for ’em somehow. I been gowin’ ‘bacca since before I was knee high to a grasshopper. Ain't nothin’ wrong with Dot the way it is. You jest like Pete Harlow, always wantin’ to make changes so he could add to his bank account. I ain't gonna stand for it."

The murmurs of approval broke into applause, and Tim felt his ears flattening.

“Sir, I don't know you,” Tim said angrily. “More to the point, you don't know me. As I said, my name is Tim Dollar. I am not Pete Harlow."

The booming bass interrupted, “Name's Amos Stone, young fella. I stood up to Pete Harlow more'n once and I'll stand up to you too. I ain't payin’ no more taxes."

“Mr. Stone,” Tim continued coldly, aware that few, other than Stone, could hear him. “I called this meeting to find out what the people of Dot think about making changes here. You've made your position known. If it's all right with you I'd like to let some others express themselves."

“Go ahead on,” Stone replied starting to take his seat but abruptly adding a parting shot. “But I ain't payin’ no more taxes!"

The crowd erupted in laughter. Tim tried for several minutes to restore order without succeeding. People were shouting various comments in such frenzy that it was impossible to proceed with meaningful discussion. Tim propped his elbows on the lectern and rested his head in his hands. Sandra wanted to strangle everybody present.

Amos Stone, expressionless, stood and mounted the steps to the podium, dragging his left leg. His well oiled brogans made a curious thump-drag-thump-drag noise on the faded, badly worn crimson carpet. He nudged Tim aside without speaking to him, slammed his cane down on the lectern and shouted, “Hush up!” Instant silence blanketed the crowd.

“The man's right about one thing,” Stone said. “The weather out there's bad. Let's get this meetin’ over with before them roads gets any worse. Everybody that's satisfied with things the way they is, raise your hands."

As hands went up, a clear tenor voice from the back of the room could be heard saying, “Hold on a minute, Amos."

“What is it, Bart?"

“Miz Jenkins wants to say something."

“Well Miz Jenkins, I reckon if I don't shush everybody up you'll rap my knuckles with a ruler. I still remember how much that hurts."

Laughter filled the room. A frail little lady stood and began to speak, but soon there were shouts of, “Louder,” and “We can't hear."

“Some of you gents help Miz Jenkins on down here so we can all see her pretty face,” the big man urged.

When she at last stood behind the lectern, silence prevailed, as all wanted to hear. Amos and Tim sat in the large ornamental chairs on the platform.

“I have lived in Dot all of my life,” began Ida Jenkins. “As a child I primed tobacco like most of you did, tended the fires while the tobacco was being cured, and listened in awe to the auctioneer's chant as the tobacco was being sold. For over forty years I was a teacher at the Dot Elementary School.” Smiling, she turned towards Amos Stone. “It pains me to see how badly I failed to teach you proper English, Amos Stone."

Laughter again erupted as Stone dropped his head in mock repentance. Turning back to the audience, she continued, “It may be an apocryphal story, but I have heard that a salesman named our community. In trying to explain to his boss where he was going, he called us ‘just a dot on the map.’”

Although most in attendance had heard the story many times, they laughed politely. “I have seen many changes in Dot over the years. I watched our community grow. I used to play on the rafters when they were building the two tobacco warehouses. I watched a rabbit trail turn into Highway 13. I saw buildings built, businesses created, babies born and whole families moving to Dot. Then things turned around. The community began to shrink. The warehouses went out of business, as did other enterprises. The once grand hotel closed for lack of customers. Young people moved away in search of jobs. Sometimes whole families left us. Not many babies are born around here anymore. Those of us who are left are old. We started out as a dot on the map and we have returned to being a dot on the map."

She paused for affect. “If things continue the way they are, in twenty years or less, we won't even be a dot on the map. We will become a residential neighborhood of Charlotte. I don't want that to happen. Do you?"

She lowered her head and started towards the platform steps. Tim assisted her down the steps and others helped her return to her seat.

Amos Stone again stood at the pulpit. “Miz Jenkins, you've rapped my knuckles many times when I was a young ‘un, and I always deserved it. Maybe I deserve it this time too, but you tell me how we're gonna pay for changes without raising money through taxes."

The small voice from the back of the church responded. “Faith, hope and love, Amos. Faith, hope and love."

“Mr. Stone.” The voice came from Dave Blanchard, pharmacist and owner of the Dot Pharmacy. “I liked one of Mr. Dollar's suggestions in the
Courier
—streetlights. I have been thinking about keeping the Pharmacy open nights on weekends. Lights would help and they are a definite hindrance to vandalism and break-ins. I have no idea what Duke Power will charge, but I don't think it will be too much. The business owners would probably be glad to pay for the lights. If there are no objections, I'll be glad to look into it."

Before Stone could say anything, Dr. Honneycutt stood and said, “My biggest concern is medical care for our community. We desperately need a modern clinic."