Page 14 of Grounded
“I forgot, there was just so much going on.”
Beulah noticed the puffy eyes and the strain around her granddaughter’s pursed mouth.
“Well, we’re up so we might as well have some tea.”
While Annie slept late the next morning, Beulah wrapped herself in a thick cardigan and took her steaming cup of black coffee on the back porch. Settling herself in the painted metal chair, she looked about her and breathed in the crisp morning air.
These first days of spring were like sweets to a dieter, and she was greedy for as many as she could enjoy. Beulah admired the maples and the shagbark hickory, their leaves finally unfurled in an impressive mass of foliage. The only ones still standing naked were the walnuts, which was fair enough since they kept their leaves longest in autumn.
Annie was home. Usually Beulah was thrilled over Annie’s visits, but she found herself a little miffed this morning. If she had known, she would have aired out the bed in Annie’s room, baked chess pies instead of chocolate, and stocked up on groceries. She felt like the anticipation had been stolen from her, and on top of that, she nearly shot the child! A chilling shudder ran from her shoulders to her spine. What else was she to do when there was all this talk about home invasions? And Annie, dressed in black, using the front door like a stranger. Beulah shook her head and shuddered again, then whispered a prayer of gratitude that nothing more than a vase had been broken during the episode.
Beulah pulled the sweater tighter around her and puzzled over Annie’s situation. It made sense for Annie to come home, what with no job for a spell—Annie had broken the news to Beulah last night—but why come so sudden? On top of that, she had rented a car and drove all the way from New York City by herself. It seemed kind of desperate to Beulah, like she was running from something or somebody. Time would tell the truth of it.
Wiggling her toes, she felt the bunion on her right foot press against the soft leather of her shoe. It wasn’t hurting today, which likely meant a dry spell coming up. Her neighbor, Joe Gibson, had already clipped the grass a couple times this spring but here it was, ready for another. If her knee didn’t bother her so much, she had half a mind to start up the old mower out in the shed and do it herself. It was a hard thing, being a widow, but the infernal reminder of her dependency on others was the worst of it. Joe didn’t mind, of course, but she couldn’t stand to think she was ever a nuisance to someone.
They had worked out a deal for Joe to lease the farm after Fred died. He needed more land to graze his cattle and cut hay. She needed someone to tend to it.
“Mowing your yard is part and parcel of the bargain,” Joe had said, but Beulah still felt like it was secret charity.
She looked at her watch and saw it was time to get ready for church. Annie was still in her bedroom and Beulah was glad she couldn’t see how the stairs pained her knee. When she reached the top, she knocked on Annie’s bedroom door and waited.
“Time to rise and shine. Sunday school starts in an hour,” Beulah said, recalling the same line she’d used when Annie was a teenager. Back then, there was never a question of Annie going to church as long as she lived under their roof. Beulah still thought it was the respectful thing to do, but there was no sound coming from inside her granddaughter’s room.
In her own bedroom across the hall, she tugged on her pantyhose and new floral dress she had bought at Penne’s end of summer sale last year. With her Bible in hand and her tithe check in her pocketbook, she gave one last knock on the door of Annie’s bedroom. Beulah frowned at the closed door and wondered how often her granddaughter missed church these days. Well, she would not alter her routine, visitor or no visitor. It was the Lord’s Day, after all, and He deserved the first fruits. Annie could be dealt with later.
Beulah was surprised to see Annie’s door still closed when she arrived home from church. After changing into her housedress, she made her way down the steps, not bothering to knock on her granddaughter’s door.If she slept through church, she might as well sleep through dinner,she thought.
Evelyn was already in the kitchen moving around it with the familiarity they shared in each other’s homes. Evelyn, nearly twenty years younger than Beulah, was elegant as usual in a pale pink suit, looking for all the world like she was taking lunch at the Idle Hour Country Club up in Lexington. As was their routine, Evelyn gave her the news from the Presbyterian’s prayer list, and Beulah shared the concerns of the Baptists. In a small town, many of the prayer requests were the same, but there was always something new to talk over.
While Evelyn tied on a new apron and Beulah fished the vegetables out from the pot roast, she told her about the near disaster of the night before.
“Law have mercy, Beulah!” Evelyn said, clicking her tongue. “Thank the Lord you always leave that light on downstairs!”
“Somebody’s here. Can you see who it is?” Beulah asked, hearing the gravel crunch in the drive.
“It’s Woody. He must have worshipped in the great outdoors this morning. Looks like he just came from fishing,” Evelyn said.
“For someone who likes the outdoors, he does manage to bring himself inside for food,” Beulah said, chuckling.
The back porch door banged open. Woody stood with a string of fish in each hand, water dripping on the linoleum.
“Ladies, I’ve got you each a string of the finest blue gill and crappie my pond can produce. I’ll even clean them for you if you tell me where to get started.”
“My goodness, did you catch all those this morning?” Evelyn asked.
“They were biting like piranhas. It was hard for me to tear myself away, but when I remembered the good meal waiting for me, it came easier.”
Beulah thought Woody wasn’t a bad-looking fellow, except when that unruly upper plate popped out of his mouth when he talked too fast. He never cared to clean up much either and one flap of his overalls usually flopped down on his chest.
“There’s a bucket in the smokehouse. Put them in water, and I’ll see to them later,” Beulah said.
Shortly afterward, the divorced teacher Mary Beth White arrived in the same car as Lindy Childress, the young lawyer who came home to work in the family practice. Both attended the new Grace Community Church.
Lindy flopped her purse down in a corner and looked around the room. “Beulah, who’s here with New York plates?”
“It’s Annie’s rental car. She came in late last night.”
“I don’t think I’ve met her before,” Mary Beth said quietly, placing her purse next to Lindy’s.
