CHAPTER 31

“What’s the Bible for?” Alice-Ann asked.

Irene moved her hand from its leathery cover, pulled it to her lap, and opened it. “The night after my date with Nelson, I was so torn. I really liked him,” she said, smiling as she looked up at Alice-Ann. “But Mack was . . .”

“The catch.”

Irene nodded. “Mm-hmm.” She turned a few of the nearly see-through pages. “That night, I told my mother —who was certain Mack would be the man to sweep me away and marry me, in spite of his ne’er-do-well attitudes and lack of ambition —that I felt confused. I thought I’d been falling in love with Mack. Maybe I was in love with him —”

“Even after only a few dates?”

Irene cocked a brow. “This from the woman who fell in love with the idea of him? With a man who wrote her letters but didn’t have the wherewithal to mail them to her house?”

“How did you —?”

She chuckled. “Oh, Alice-Ann. You think you’re as mysterious as one of those Alfred Hitchcock movies.”

Alice-Ann frowned at such a reference. “Never mind all that.” She nodded toward the Bible. “Keep on with your story.”

“That night, my mother told me a story.” Her eyes widened. “Seems once upon a time, a long time ago, she had to make a decision between two men. Both who swore their undying love for her and both who she could see herself with. But like Aunt Bess once told me, ‘You can’t help who you fall in love with, but you can help who you marry.’”

“She told me that too,” Alice-Ann said, wondering if her aunt had told Irene the full story or only part of it.

Irene’s eyes lit up. “Mama chose Daddy, of course. I asked her if she ever wondered if she’d made the right decision.”

“What’d she say?”

“That of course. Every so often when Daddy acted like a horse’s patoot, she’d wonder. But then she’d look at Frank and me and all the blessings God had given her —including Daddy —and she knew she had. ‘Life,’ she said, ‘doesn’t always seem fair. But when we trust God with our decisions, it all turns out all right.’”

“That’s true.”

“Her mother —my grandmother —gave her this Scripture verse.”

Alice-Ann leaned over for a closer look as Irene turned the book toward her and pointed with an unpolished, neatly trimmed nail. “Psalm 25, verse 17. ‘The troubles . . .’”

“‘The troubles of my heart are enlarged,’” Alice-Ann took over. “‘O bring thou me out of my distresses.’” Alice-Ann looked up. These were the same words Aunt Bess had given her. How good you are, Lord. How exact in your measure of truth to your children . . .

“I prayed those words all night, but the truth of it was —I was trying to bring myself out of my distresses. I was trying to be the one who figured it all out. Finally I told God that he should be the one to figure it out. I mean, isn’t that what the verse says?”

Alice-Ann read the verse again, this time silently. “So what happened after that?”

“The next morning, Nelson showed up with the fish.” She laughed so fully, Alice-Ann laughed with her. “He’d cleaned them, kept them on ice, and brought them to my mother, wrapped in a newspaper. Said we could have them for supper.”

Alice-Ann could picture the scene. Irene’s mother was a nice enough woman, but she was completely citified. Trying to picture her cleaning fish was like picturing that new Hollywood actor, Guy Madison, as a girl. “I doubt she knew the treasure Nelson handed to her.”

“Mother had Magnolia fry them up for supper that night. And no. Mother had no idea. For a boy —a man —like Nelson, bringing over a mess of fish was tantamount to bringing a rare pearl after an oyster dig.” She took in a breath and sighed into the memory. “I knew right then that I’d found my true love, even so early on. Me,” she said, pointing to her chest, “a girl who didn’t know a cow from a heifer. Or a laying hen from a meat hen.”

Alice-Ann chuckled. “Well, that’s true.”

“I chose the ultimate farm boy over a man my mother was certain would one day come into his own, go to school, and take over his father’s apothecary, she called it.”

Alice-Ann leaned back, bringing the Bible with her. “Do you think I should pray this?”

“Don’t you?” Irene asked quietly. Then she stood and started toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said. “I need to go check on the baby.”

“Irene?” Alice-Ann said as her sister-in-law’s hand touched the doorknob.

Irene turned.

“You know, I wasn’t so sure about you before. Back when you first married Nelson. I wanted you to like me and I wanted to like you, but —”

“I took some getting used to?”

Alice-Ann smiled to soften the blow. “Yes, you did.”

Irene looked around the room. “All this took some getting used to for me as well. Some days I wondered if I’d made a mistake. It has taken a lot of faith —faith I didn’t know I had until I needed it —to survive our first years of marriage in the midst of this war.” She raised her brow so quickly, Alice-Ann almost missed the movement. “No doubt, there will be times, Alice-Ann, when you will wonder the same, war or not. But in the end, you’ll know that you wouldn’t have changed a thing.” She smiled as she opened the door, then looked down at her hands. “Dear Gussie, that aunt of yours is going to turn me into a farmer’s wife if it kills her.” She held her hands up, nails toward Alice-Ann. “Remember when I had soft, pink hands?”

“I remember.” She hadn’t liked her sister-in-law so much then. But she’d changed. Maybe the war had changed her. Maybe marriage or motherhood. Or maybe God had taken his sweet time turning Irene into the woman he wanted her to be.

Irene turned her ear toward the door. “The men are back. Wonder if we have a new calf.”

“Probably. They wouldn’t have come back if we didn’t.”

“I’ll go see. Make sure Nelson’s getting something to eat.”

As if Aunt Bess would let him go hungry.

“Irene?” Alice-Ann called again.

Irene stopped, this time in the hallway. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad you chose Nelson.”

Irene smiled as she leaned into the room, her hand resting against the outside doorframe. “Well, what girl can resist a farm boy bringing her mama a mess of fish?”

Unlike Maeve two days earlier, on Wednesday —twenty minutes before noon —Claudette Dailey waltzed in like fog on cat’s feet. Gliding across the room in a blue-and-brown wool suit, her heels clicking on the terrazzo, she held her chin high, if for no other reason than to support the snazzy hat tilted just so on the right side of her head.

Claudette walked with one arm crooked. A brown leather purse swung from it in rhythm with her steps. She smiled broadly, red lipstick accentuating her full lips, and as she neared the tellers’ windows, she put on a show of removing her gloves, then scrunched them in one hand.

“Good morning, Mrs. Dailey,” Alice-Ann teased.

“Good morning, yourself,” she returned easily, grinning at the reference to her new last name. “Gracious, I heard you’d started froufrouing yourself up, but I had no idea . . .” Claudette tilted her head in observation. “Still, I think love has added a glow that a tube of red lipstick or a pot of rouge cannot.” She turned to Nancy. “Don’t you agree, Mrs. Thorpe?”

Alice-Ann watched, bemused, as Nancy bit back a smile. “Absolutely. Tell us, Claudette, how is life treating you?”

Claudette placed her hands on the marble counter and leaned in between the two with a sigh. “If life got any better, why . . . I just couldn’t stand it.”

“I take it marriage agrees with you then?” Nancy asked.

Claudette blushed appropriately. “It’s marvelous.” She peered sideways at Alice-Ann. “Just you wait, Alice-Ann. You’ll positively bask in the glow.”

Alice-Ann peered over Claudette’s shoulder to meet Miss Portia’s frown. A customer —any customer —coming in this close to locking the doors for the day never set well with Miss Portia. Make it one who seemed bent on dillydallying and her displeasure only intensified.

Alice-Ann cleared her throat and asked, “How can we help you today, Mrs. Dailey?”

“My husband has sent me to pick up a couple of counter checks.” She popped the silver clasps on her purse, reached in, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Who should I give this to?”

“I can help you,” Alice-Ann said.

Claudette slid the paper into the brass tray, which Alice-Ann retrieved, unfolded, and she read the numbers. As she prepared the first counter check, Claudette leaned in again and said, “I guess you’ve heard about Maeve and Ernie.”

Alice-Ann nodded but didn’t look up. “About time, I’d say.”

“And what about you?” She stretched and peered through the glass separating them. “Is that your ring?”

Alice-Ann raised her eyes and held up her hand briefly. Pride swelled inside her as she said, “It was Carlton’s great-grandmother’s.”

“It’s beautiful. And just like Carlton to be so traditional.” She patted her hair, pulled tight into a chignon behind her left ear.

Alice-Ann wasn’t sure if her old friend’s words were a cut or a compliment, but she chose to believe the latter. “Here you go, Claudette,” she said, sliding the counter checks into the tray and toward their recipient.

Claudette took them, dropped them into her purse, and snapped it shut with flair. “I’m so happy for you, Alice-Ann,” she said, then looked over at Nancy and smiled. “I would have never believed it —back when we were little girls oohing and aahing over Maeve’s cute older brother and his friend Boyd MacKay.” She winked at Alice-Ann, who felt tiny fingers of discomfort crawling into her belly. “Not to mention how Maeve and I used to go on and on over Nelson.”

Alice-Ann frowned. “You did not.”

“Oh, we most assuredly did,” she countered with a giggle. “All boys that much older than us were fair game, including your adorable brother. Not that she would have ever breathed a word, but Maeve had such a massive crush, much like you did with —” She stopped short, and Alice-Ann widened her eyes in warning.

If Nancy had ever suspected her feelings for Mack, she’d never said. Certainly Alice-Ann hadn’t come close to discussing them with her. That topic had always felt reserved for her and Maeve and Claudette. And then . . . just her and Maeve.

And then, only her and Carlton. The thought brought a smile to her lips.

Claudette pulled her gloves onto her slender hands, adjusting the fingers as she added, “Seriously, Alice-Ann.” Her face softened. “You’ve made the right choice, saying you’d marry Carlton.” She presented the briefest of smiles, then turned and started across the room. Halfway to the door, she threw up a hand and said, “Have a nice day, Miss Portia. Mister Dooley.”

Once Alice-Ann remembered to breathe, she looked over at Nancy, who shook her head in wonder. “Land sakes, that girl.”

“Girl nothing. She’s a full-fledged married woman now.” She forced a smile as she reminded herself that once upon a time, not so long ago, Claudette had been her confidante. A best friend. One-third of an all-girl Three Musketeers band of innocents.

Nancy opened her drawer. “Marriage is no excuse for that.” She pulled out a stack of dollar bills as she added, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to close out and go home.” She retrieved her stack of fives and placed them next to the singles. “Are you going to the house to work? Want to walk together?”

Alice-Ann had opened her drawer as well and began their afternoon ritual. “I —uh —I actually need to make a quick stop at the drugstore before they close for the day.”

“Oh?”

“Pick up a couple of items.”

Nancy began her count. “I see,” she said, keying in her total for the ones and then entering the figure on the tally sheet.

Alice-Ann did the same, avoiding eye contact with her coworker. The last thing she needed was a rumor. Besides, it seemed perfectly natural to walk across the street. To pick up a few items. Some cotton balls. Maybe some Epsom salts.

And she would. Aunt Bess had mentioned a few days earlier they were getting low.

If she were lucky —really lucky —she’d catch Janie Wren alone and see if they could have a little talk.

By the time Alice-Ann made it close enough to MacKay’s Pharmacy, Janie was exiting the front door, wearing a light overcoat and carrying her purse. Not seeing Alice-Ann as she approached, she started up the sidewalk toward the south end of town, where she lived with her parents.

“Janie?” Alice-Ann called, hoping her voice carried over the light downtown traffic.

Janie turned. The easy smile she offered faded as soon as she recognized the woman behind the voice. “Oh. It’s you.”

Alice-Ann closed the gap between them. “Why do you say it like that?”

Janie crossed her arms. “Because, that’s why. Why didn’t you tell me Mack had a thing for you?”

“Mack?” Alice-Ann feigned ignorance, but even to her own ears, she did a poor job of it.

Janie’s flawlessly painted lips opened, forming a tiny O as she shook her head. “Don’t give me that, Alice-Ann. Everyone in town knows Mack called you. The Army sent men to see his mama and daddy. But you? You, he actually picked up the phone and called before anyone else.”

“I had no control over that, Janie.”

“Do you know Mister Lance and Miss Myrtle waited a whole day before they heard their son’s voice? I don’t suggest you come into the store any time soon, Alice-Ann. Miss Myrtle is so put out with you, she told me it was best she not have to say anything at all to you just yet.” Janie nodded once as though that were that. “Miss Myrtle said she doesn’t want to lose her good standing with Jesus and miss out on going to heaven.”

Alice-Ann could hardly imagine Miss Myrtle saying anything at all to her or anyone else that might kick her out of God’s hereafter. “Janie, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. To see you. I just —I’ve been so busy —Carlton and I —getting the house ready and —”

“And you engaged to Carlton Hillis, no less.” Janie pivoted and started walking again.

Alice-Ann managed to catch up to her, to walk shoulder to shoulder in hopes of continuing their conversation. “Janie, can we go to Tucker’s? Can I buy you a soda or —?” She didn’t have enough money for a meal. Not for herself, much less the two of them.

Janie stopped, her lips forming the O again. “And take a chance of being seen? Take a chance on losing my job?” She continued, reaching the curb and hurrying across the street.

This time, when Alice-Ann caught up to Janie, she reached for her arm, hoping to stop her. “Please, Janie. Please allow me to talk to you for five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for. Five little minutes.”

They stood in front of the Methodist church, the one Claudette and Johnny had exchanged their vows in only a few weeks earlier. The one she’d stumbled in as she walked down the aisle, only to be steadied by the man who proposed marriage to her before the day came to an end. “Can we please just sit on the steps there?”

Janie looked at the long, narrow brick steps, then back to Alice-Ann.

“Please?”

“Five minutes,” Janie said, halfway to the imposing church building. She sat, tucking her coat under her, and Alice-Ann did the same.

“Yes,” Alice-Ann began right away, not wanting to waste any time. “Yes, I wrote to Mack while he was away, and yes, he wrote to me.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me? That day when I went on and on about writing to him and believing he was alive?”

Alice-Ann shrugged. “It didn’t seem important at the time,” she said, the half-truth nearly stumbling on her tongue. “The Army said he was dead and —” Oh, how could she possibly explain it to someone she hardly knew? “It just didn’t seem important at the time.”

“You said that.” She sighed so deeply that her shoulders dropped an inch. “Alice-Ann, you came in and you let me help you with your makeup and your body lotions —”

“I wanted to look nice for Carlton.”

A look of mild fear cast a shadow over Janie’s face. “Not Mack?”

“Mack was dead. Remember?”

Janie dropped her face as her hands came together in her lap. Alice-Ann reached for them, wrapping them with her own, feeling the chill within them. “Janie, I had no idea Mack was writing to you. Or you to him. Back when we wrote to each other, I mean. Before the plane crash. He’s been —he’s been a friend to me since I was a little girl. He and Nelson were best friends since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

Janie looked at her but said nothing.

“I hurried over to the —I walked over to tell you that —I know people are talking about Mack calling me and everyone is wondering why . . .”

“And I realized . . .”

The words blew in on the autumn breeze skipping along the sidewalk stretched in front of the church. Alice-Ann shivered and drew her hands away from Janie’s in hopes she hadn’t sensed it.

“It makes no sense, Alice-Ann.”

Alice-Ann felt her brow furrow. “No. No, it doesn’t.”

“Are you . . . ? Do you plan to go see him? In Savannah? At the hospital?”

“If you want to go see him, I’ll understand.”

“I don’t —no.” She pressed her lips together.

“Maybe you should.”

Alice-Ann straightened her back. “Why do you say that?”

“Don’t you want to know why he called you? Everybody else does. Don’t you?”

“The troubles of my heart are enlarged: O bring thou me out of my distresses.”

Alice-Ann turned her face back toward town. The one with the cracks in the sidewalks she’d avoided stepping on since the day Maeve had taught her the childish chant. The one with the inset titles at storefront doorways, and window displays she could practically predict as the seasons changed each year. Her eyes rested on the five-and-dime, then traveled up to the four windows along the second floor. The Hillises’ home.

Carlton’s home.

At least for a little while longer. Once they were married, his home would be with her, and hers with him. Once they were married . . .

And what then? Would she spend a lifetime wondering what Mack had wanted to say to her? Years of wondering if he had meant to declare his love for her . . . or his need to keep their relationship as it had always been? Fully platonic. Big brother. Little sister.

She turned back to Janie. “I do,” she said, the honesty of it hitting her like a grenade in her chest.

Resolution pooled in Janie’s eyes. “Then I think you should go, Alice-Ann.”

Alice-Ann did too. She had to, really. She had to see him. Speak to him. Ask him what he’d meant to say to her. She understood that now.

But how would she explain that to Carlton?