Eve tried her best to avoid Jackson. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss since the night it happened. And since all she wanted was to feel that way again, held tightly in his arms, she should stay away from him. Being an early riser helped, since Jackson wasn’t. She’d sometimes hear him late at night after she’d gone to her room, poking around the house. Strumming his guitar, talking to Winston, who as far as she could surmise now spent every night in Jackson’s room. And even though it went against her survival instincts, she’d lay with her good ear pressed against the mattress after removing the hearing aid. She could only drift off to sleep when she couldn’t hear him walking around the house at night or passing her bedroom door.
But it just wasn’t enough. There were times when she couldn’t avoid him. Breakfast. Lunch. Supper. Each time Mima asked her to go find him because she needed his help with this or that. At those times she’d catch herself watching him, unable to look away. Supremely embarrassed when he’d catch her in the act. He’d smile easily and quirk a brow in question. She’d then quickly find something else to do.
But today Eve had maid of honor duties. She’d be accompanying Sadie to a meeting with the Society of Reasonable, Respectable Orderly Women (SORROW). The society was founded during World War II when women wanted to do something to help the war effort. They’d started by knitting baby blankets for expectant mothers. All good stuff.
The problem began when all the babies born that first year were boys. Pink blankets went unused. Once the war was over and some of the more fortunate men returned, nine months later there were more boys. And then more boys, with a lucky one or two girls born to amazed and grateful mothers. Encouraged, and searching for another way to help, the founding members decided that they’d put together a primer: The Men of Stone Ridge. They were determined for word to get out about how lucky the women of Stone Ridge were, with such handsome and plentiful men to choose from. And somehow with false promises of handsome cowboys and romance, lure women back into town.
There were rumors of plans to use the Men of Stone Ridge primer and start an email-order bride service. Sort of a pamphlet of “here’s all you’ll have to choose from.” A bit disconcerting.
Beulah Hayes, the current president, still liked to gather the group and give a bride a few pointers before the wedding day. It was now a tradition in Stone Ridge. They’d offered Eve advice, too. Advice that to this day Eve found offensive, but heck, there was something to be said for tradition.
Besides, she hadn’t been able to talk Sadie out of it. Her mother was a big supporter of the group. Then again, Wanda was a character. She claimed to have devised a concoction that led to giving birth to a healthy girl. She believed it was how she’d given birth to Sadie in addition to Beau, when all of her sisters had sons.
“Are you really drinking that vile stuff?” Eve asked now as she drove them to town. She’d seen the drink, or rather, smelled it. The thing smelled like sulfur and onions. You couldn’t pay her enough to drink it.
“Am I crazy?” Sadie asked. “Of course I’m not drinking it. Too late anyway, but it makes my mother feel better. Like she’s helping, and there’s no harm. But I don’t care if we have girls or boys.”
“That’s because you both have good sense.” She paused. “Did you tell him yet?”
Sadie hesitated and Eve had her answer.
“Why not, honey?”
“I’m waiting for the perfect time. There hasn’t been one yet. He’s been coming in so tired from a long day and I just can’t do that to him.”
Eve heard the fear in Sadie’s voice. “He’s going to be happy even if it’s sooner than y’all planned.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Well, I do.”
“We were going to wait.”
“Tell him tonight. After you bring the quilt home and talk about how much you learned.” Eve turned onto Miller Road and hung a left at Trinity Church. “I did prepare you enough for this, didn’t I?”
“Yep. You and every other woman my age who’s been through this. I know I’m going to listen to a bunch of old-fashioned mumbo jumbo about keeping a happy home and if I’m lucky enough to have them, raising strong daughters.”
“Yeah, it’s just going to be a lot of silly talk that, if you can stand, can be kind of funny. I managed not to laugh during mine, but it took biting my tongue. Jackson said if I ever did anything like the women suggested, he’d think aliens hijacked my body.”
And there went another memory.
“Our town is quirky, but I love it,” Sadie said as they pulled into the Trinity church parking lot where Beulah held her SORROW meetings. “I doubt there’s any small town in America quite like ours.”
“Let’s hope.”
Beulah opened the door and greeted Sadie with a hug and an air kiss. “Welcome, sugar. Welcome.”
“Hello there,” Eve said, not expecting a great reception.
“There she is,” Beulah said, clucking. “Lawd have mercy. You didn’t listen to a thing I said, or you wouldn’t have chased a Carver man right out of town, that’s what. All water under the bridge. Don’t worry none, I’ve got my sights on the last Carver boy and he ain’t a leavin’ town without wanting to come back.”
“Good luck with that,” Eve said and took a seat.
Thirty minutes later, after sweet tea and sugar cookies, Beulah led Sadie into the center of a circle. The five members of SORROW surrounded her, Eve on the outside as a special guest. A special silent guest, if she was to go by the members’ puckered, red-painted lips.
Clementine Rogers read from the mission statement which was boiled down to one sentence: find good women for the men of Stone Ridge. Whatever it takes. Eve listened to twenty minutes of “advice” from the members, which included admitting a man is always right, and never to be challenged.
“But what do I do when I know I’m right?” Sadie dared to ask.
Eve muffled a laugh.
“Oh, honey, you are always right,” Beulah said.
“Uh-huh. That’s right,” said Clementine.
“But I don’t understand,” Sadie said, honestly sounding confused.
“Well, now, there really isn’t any trick to this. You are always right, but he has to think he’s always right,” Beulah said, shaking her head. “Even if you have to leave the house, honey, just to keep your composure.”
“Sometimes I write in my secret diary,” Magnolia Smith offered. “I keep it under my side of the mattress. It’s got little letters that I write to the insufferable fool. Explaining how he’s so wrong about…well, everything. Oh, he’ll never see them. I’ve been married forty years and no one can say I chased my man out of town.”
With that, all biddies sent a significant look in Eve’s direction. She snorted and looked away.
“This doesn’t sound healthy,” Sadie dared to say. “I think I should tell him when I’m mad.”
This brought about a general tittering from the circle of “bless her heart,” “oh my,” “she’s just a baby,” and “these young’uns don’t know a thing, do they?”
“Want to know what’s healthy?” Beulah said. “Having a town with an equal amount of men and women. Then we can all enjoy the fruits of our labor. Until that time, I’m afraid we’re all going to have to swallow our pride. And be wrong. In theory.”
Shortly after that, the meeting was concluded, and Sadie was showered with presents: A print copy of the bound book, The Men of Stone Ridge, created by their founding member, Wimbreth Williams; a pink knit baby blanket; a beautiful quilt with the date of their wedding embroidered on it; and a carved wooden sign which read “The Carvers: Established June 16th.”
By the end of the meeting, Sadie was crying real tears. The presents were packed up in Eve’s truck for the ride back to her home.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Sadie said, buckling her seat belt. “I can ignore the stupid stuff.”
“Guess you’re right. I’d forgotten it’s like another wedding shower.”
“With heartfelt gifts.” Sadie clutched the quilt. “Did you get one of these?”
“I did,” Eve said, the pebble sliding its way over her throat again. “It’s either still at your cabin or packed in a box, now in Mima’s house…somewhere.”
“You’ve moved a few times, but you kept the quilt.”
“Who else could use a quilt with mine and Jackson’s names and our wedding date?”
“You kept it,” Sadie said, with a wistful sound in her voice.
“Don’t read too much into that. It’s a beautiful quilt. It would be silly to give it away.” But Eve’s hands were tightening around the steering wheel to the point where her knuckles turned white.
All her life she’d wanted a quilt like the one she’d seen other brides receive. Her mother owned one, too, and she’d kept it. Mima still had hers. It wasn’t something you gave away.
Chalk it up to yet another memory brought about by Sadie’s wedding.
Another sentiment, another buried emotion that she just couldn’t afford to take out and reexamine.