Page 15 of Grounded
“Likely as not,” said Beulah. “She hasn’t been around much since she got out of college and moved off.”
“She left about the time you moved here,” Lindy said to Mary Beth. “I remember her from school, even though she was about five years older than me. Didn’t she date Brett Bradshaw?”
Beulah nodded, not caring much to pursue that subject.
Woody came in from the back porch. “I went ahead and gutted them. All they need is a good scalin’ and the heads off.”
“You made fast work of it,” Beulah said, shaking flour and water in a small jar, then adding it to the beef juices.
“Scott’s tied up the next two Sundays eating with church members,” Lindy said. “He wanted us to tell you not to throw his plate out. He’ll be back.”
“I’m glad the parishioners are taking care of him. I hope he’s getting home-cooked meals and not something from a drive-through lane.”
“Well, it is a young church,” Lindy said, grinning at Beulah and pushing her dishwater blond hair out of her small face.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with these young people. My generation raised several kids and cooked their own food from what they grew. It was a pleasure to host the minister for Sunday dinner and everybody took turn’ about doing it,” Beulah said.
Evelyn rinsed the roasting pan and set it on the rack to dry. “Nowadays, all the women work. It’s a different world.”
“They’re working because they want too much stuff. Live on less and be happy with what you’ve got; that’s how I was raised.”
Lindy put her arm around Beulah while she stirred the beef gravy. “Beulah, look at it this way. If the church members fed Scott like they should, he wouldn’t be here with us so often, and you and Evelyn would miss out on promoting ecumenical harmony. Instead, here we are, Baptists and Presbyterians and … what are you, Woody?”
“An occasional Methodist,” he said, pulling a piece of meat off the roast before Evelyn could smack his hand.
“An occasional Methodist. What do you think?” Lindy grinned at Beulah before kissing her on the cheek.
“I believe that university up in Lexington turned you into a slick-tongued lawyer, that’s what I think.”
“What can I do to help?” Mary Beth asked, her pretty auburn curls pulled back in a twist.
“You can put the green beans and the macaroni and cheese on the table. Lindy, you can pour the tea. Woody, grab that basket of rolls.”
While Evelyn set the platter of roast beef, potatoes and carrots on the table, Beulah poured the gravy into a bowl.
“Is Annie coming down?” Lindy asked.
“I doubt it. She seems bent on sleeping all day.” Beulah sat down and reached for Mary Beth’s hand on her left and Woody’s on her right.
“Woody, would you say grace for us?” Beulah said, catching Evelyn’s sideways glance before they closed their eyes. It wouldn’t hurt Woody to pray a little.
“Uh, all right, I reckon I can. God, thank you for this beef and the cow who give it up for us. Thank you for the taters and the carrots, the gravy Miss Beulah made, and the bread to sop it up with. Amen.”
Chapter Five
Annie opened her eyes and looked about the room, confused for a moment about where she was. Then she remembered the hours of driving, the midnight arrival, and finally climbing into bed in her old room. Sunlight slipped in, muted by lace curtains. Yellow- and white-flowered paper covered the walls. She had selected the pattern when she came to live with her grandparents after her mother died. Between two windows, an antique chest of drawers stood. On the other wall, a dressing table with a chair covered in pale pink chenille balanced the room. In the corner next to her bed was a round bedside table painted white. Nothing in the room had changed since she left for New York City, ten years before.
The long drive was tiring, but it was how she had wanted it.
“Why don’t you call Bob and see if he can get you on a flight? That’s the least he can do,” Janice had suggested.
“No, I don’t want to fly. I want to drive home and enjoy the scenery. It should take around twelve hours, not including stops, and if I get home late, so what?”
On Saturday morning, Annie had felt like a child leaving for school under Janice’s mothering attention.
“Here’s coffee in a thermos with cream, exactly how you like it. I don’t have any muffins, but I put a banana in there. There’s also a turkey sandwich packed with some carrot sticks and three bottles of water. Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve barely driven yourself in the last ten years. Is your driver’s license up-to-date? I wish I had more to give you. I have to go to the store today, and I’m low on everything.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll call you. Give the kids a kiss for me when they wake up and tell Jimmy thanks.”
