I felt like that woman from Hawthorne’s novel who wore the scarlet A on her chest. Not that I’d committed adultery—but I’d run away and let them believe a lie about me. What will happen if they learn the truth—when they learn it? If Gerald or Father show up, looking for me? What will that mean, not only for me but for Aunt Hyacinth? I turned away when the woman across the aisle smiled and nodded a greeting. I dared not get close to anyone. Let them think me a snob. Please, God, if You have any mercy, let them not think of me at all.
•••
After service, before I could get Aunt Hyacinth to her feet and out the door, a woman nearly six feet tall and rail thin plowed her way through the congregants to push her hand into mine.
“Welcome to No Creek, Miss Belvidere. We’re mighty glad to have you. I’m Mrs. Mae—call me Ida Mae, everyone does—postmistress and proprietress of the general store, also local midwife on occasion. If I can be of service to you or Miz Hyacinth, you just let me know. I know everyone and everything in the area. You have a question, you ask me. Isn’t that right, Miz Hyacinth? I hope you told her.”
“Yes, I’ve told her all about you, Ida Mae; you may depend on it.” Aunt Hyacinth smiled innocently and gave my hand a conspiratorial squeeze.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mae—Ida Mae. I appreciate that. Right now, I believe I need to get Hyacinth home. It’s been a long morning for her.”
“Well, of course it has, bless her heart. Miz Hyacinth, you know we’re mighty glad you came to church after all this time.” Ida Mae raised her voice as if Aunt Hyacinth were not only blind but beyond deaf. “We’ve missed you, and I’m sure the good Lord is pleased to see you’ve returned to the fold.”
It sounded like a backhanded welcome. I might not take up for myself, but I was ready to give Ida Mae a short retort on Aunt Hyacinth’s behalf when Reverend Willard intervened.
“Two Belvidere women. We are blessed. Thank you, Grace, for bringing our dear friend, and thank you for joining us today. You ladies made the sun come out.”
Ida Mae straightened. “Just as I said, Reverend Willard.”
Reverend Willard winked at me.
Furiously, I blushed—I know I did for the heat that came up my neck. “Hyacinth, we need to get you home.”
“I am feeling a little weary, but, Reverend Willard, I must thank you for that sermon. It was one I needed to hear just now.”
“You take care, Miz Hyacinth. I’ll be up to see you this week as usual. You’ll be ready for me?”
“Of course we will.” Aunt Hyacinth’s smile rang through her vocal cords.
I steered Aunt Hyacinth carefully down the aisle, though one and another of the congregants wanted to stop and speak with her, to welcome her back and say how they’d missed her. At the door, though the reverend was already deep into another conversation, he looked up at me, tipped his head, and mouthed, “Thank you!”
I was glad to be holding on to Aunt Hyacinth, for I might have stumbled if not. I wasn’t used to being appreciated or thanked or even noticed, and it felt foreign, odd, something I didn’t know what to do with. But as Aunt Hyacinth and I walked slowly home, arm in arm, it felt warming, just the same.
Chapter Nine
CELIA WASN’T SURE what set the fire beneath Miz Hyacinth—unless it was Miss Grace’s arrival—but she was game for the flurry of activity at Garden’s Gate. She just hated having to go weed garden and haul water for the widow Cramer half the day now that school was out and miss all the excitement. But whatever she missed by day she could hear about in the general store each afternoon. All she needed to do was stop in on her way home and offer to sweep the floor for a peppermint stick or a pickle. She’d hear the local gossip in five minutes.
Today Ida Mae was “confiding” in Joe Earl, which was rich indeed, because Joe wouldn’t remember a word of it past five thirty when the Whistle Stop Bar & Grill opened for drinks down the other side of the train platform.
“I heard she’s called Gladys Percy in to clean that big house from attic to cellar—paying her top dollar—and hired Olney Tate to rake up that entire yard and trim up and plow a garden space, late as it is to get started. She’s depending on her ‘companion’ to oversee the entire operation. I just hope that woman isn’t spending every last dime Miz Hyacinth’s saved for her old age. That would be a crime. Miz Hyacinth’ll need that money.”
Celia kept sweeping, kept her ears sharp, all the while wondering, if sixtysomething wasn’t Miz Hyacinth’s old age, when that would be.
“It’s not respectable, having that colored man working there all hours with those women alone in the house. I heard he’s even brought his nephew up from Georgia to help out.” Ida Mae leaned conspiratorially close to Joe. “You just tell me what some fifteen-year-old colored boy is doing leaving home and coming to the foothills of North Carolina. You reckon he was run out of town for something sinister?” She shook her head but kept on. Joe Earl never got a word in edgewise. “I don’t know what No Creek is coming to. Two strangers in as many weeks. And what do we know of Grace Belvidere? I never heard tell of any such relative until—”
Just then the bell jingled over the store door and in walked Miss Grace.
“Good afternoon, Ida Mae, Celia.” Miss Grace half smiled, nodding, but kept her face all business. She didn’t speak to Joe Earl but pulled her eyes away the minute she saw him. She must not have met him before.
“Why, Grace, a pleasure to see you!” Ida Mae crooned as if she’d not just been talking behind her back thirty miles an hour. “How can I help you today? There’s no mail for Miz Hyacinth.”
“No, she’s not expecting any just now. I’ve come to see about paint.”
“Paint.”
“Yes, something in a cream or pale yellow that will catch the light for the interior of the house, and white, for the outside.”
“Miz Hyacinth wants paint now?” Ida Mae’s voice held all the surprise of a snowstorm in June and just a tad of judgment. “She’ll never be able to see it, you know.”
“No, but she wants the house brought back to its glory, just the same, and I’m here to see it done as she wishes.”
Celia grinned to see Miss Grace lift her chin and stand up to Ida Mae.
“We’ll have to order it from Elkin—maybe even Winston-Salem,” Ida Mae observed as if that was a big to-do.
“She expects that. When do you think it might be delivered?”
“If I place an order today, maybe by the end of the week, if they have it in stock. How much do you want?”
“Olney Tate recommends five gallons for the interior, for now. For the outside, he thinks we should order fifteen gallons and see how we go. We can order more later if need be.”
“Olney Tate, is it? I heard he was doing some work on the grounds. Does Miz Hyacinth think it’s wise to have him working inside the house?”
“Wise? Olney and his nephew are excellent workers. They’ve already done wonders with the garden and fencing.”
“But you and Gladys Percy and Miz Hyacinth herself—all women alone in the house with him. I’m surprised Miz Hyacinth hasn’t given that more thought. You know, near every week I have one or two men comin’ in here, lookin’ for work—drifters, but still, at least they’re white.” She leaned over the counter, past Joe Earl, pretending to whisper, but in a voice loud enough to be heard at the door. “It isn’t seemly.”