The Quaker Café (37 page)

             
“What do you mean?”

             
“The lynching of Isaac Perry… it’s a deep wound. There’s going to be some reaction, possibly very angry reaction. People will question whether or not the lynching could have been avoided or at the very least, the Perry family saved from their suffering if Grandpa had stepped forward.”

             
Liz stared at Chase in disbelief. “Oh, Chase, surely not, not after all these years, not after all the good Grandpa has done in this community. People can’t possibly demonize him.” 

             
Chase shook his head and motioned to the blanket. “Come over here,” he said. Liz slipped in under the blanket next to him as he wrapped his arms around her.

             
“The black community may boycott the pharmacy.”

             
“What?” The thought had never crossed her mind.

             
“Economic reprisal. It’s been done in the past. That would be two-thirds of our business. We’d go under in a few months, weeks even.”

             
“I just can’t believe that. Is Grandpa concerned about that?”

             
“He is.”

             
“What did you tell him?”

             
“I told him we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. For now we’d just take one step at a time. We’ve agreed to meet with the elders at meeting first.”

             
“Grandpa
is
an elder,” Liz said.

             
“I know,” Chase said. “I imagine it’s the first time in the history of our meeting that an elder will be eldered.”

             
“What do you think they will say?”

             
“I don’t know. They’ve all looked to Dad for leadership in the past. This will be hard for them, but they will seek clearness and most important, I think they will look for a way to do what is right for those who have suffered.”

             
“You don’t think they would ever disown him from the meeting, do you?”

             
“No,” Chase said. “I haven’t heard of that happening in decades.”

             
Liz said nothing, but wrapped her arms tightly around Chase. She worried about Grandpa and Grandma and she worried about Maggie. How on earth would Maggie feel if she learned that the Judge was not her real father?  And then, there was LuAnne; Maggie and LuAnne were friends. They could talk this through – couldn’t they?

             
Off in the distance a faint blue light moved through the swamp. Liz followed its slow progression and finally said, “Chase?”

             
“I see it,” he said. “Swamp gas—that’s all.”

Chapter Thirty-five

Liz pulled into the front of The Quaker Café dog tired from the weekend. But she’d promised Miss Ellie that as soon as she got back from the wedding they’d go to see Maggie together. Miss Ellie wore a jaunty wool scarf and a teal blue hat to match her slacks. Liz had on slacks and a slipover sweater with her UNC baseball cap. Miss Ellie  dressed to visit. Liz dressed to work. “Don’t you look nice,” Liz said as Miss Ellie eased into the car.

             
“You know,” Miss Ellie said, “the Judge would never let Maggie come to the café in shorts or jeans when she was little.”

             
“Really?” Liz said.

             
“That’s the honest truth. He considered it
going-to-town,
even though it’s just a few blocks away, and he always insisted she dress appropriately when she came with him for a meal.”

“Times have changed,” Liz said, becoming more self-conscious of
her own clothes. After all, they were off to Durham, the big city.

“They certainly have
. Why these days, you wouldn’t know sometimes whether people were going to town or headed for a beach party.”

“Keeps things from getting boring.”

              “Well, it’s a new day, a new way.  People have different expectations.” Miss Ellie said. “But, tell me about the wedding.”

             
“It was wonderful, Miss Ellie. It really was. I’m sorry you couldn’t be there.”

             
“I want to send something to Nat and Lexa, maybe something for the kitchen. I thought perhaps some biscuit sheets?”

             
“I’m sure they’d appreciate that,” Liz said, as she wondered whether Lexa had ever cooked a biscuit in her life. She knew that Nat hadn’t. She didn’t even cook them, herself, anymore. The biscuits of choice were always Miss Ellie’s.

             
They discussed the wedding as Liz drove. She told Miss Ellie about her parents and the wig, the rehearsal party at Folly’s Island, Estelle’s tears at the wedding, and the reception. She didn’t mention Frogbelly’s toast or the unraveling confessions of Grandpa Hoole. Liz hoped against hope that somehow all of that might remain a private family matter in a small town where personal becomes public overnight.

             
“How’s Maggie?  Have you talked to Billie?” Miss Ellie asked.

             
“Talked to her this morning. Maggie’s fair, getting better. LuAnne went with her to Durham over the weekend and they had a good visit.”

             
“I want to tell her some things today, if she’s up for it…some things about her daddy. I’ve decided she should know,” Miss Ellie said. “But I hope what we share at the hospital can remain just with the three of us.”

             
The burden of secrets weighed heavily on Liz. She didn’t wish to be trusted with any other personal history. “Miss Ellie, I would be happy to leave the room while you talk with her. If what you have to say is something that you’ve thought important enough to keep to yourself, there’s no reason I should know.”

             
“Actually, I think I’d like for you to be there, just in case.”

             
“Just in case what, exactly?”

             
“Just in case she gets upset; you might know better how to handle it.”

             
Becoming even more uncomfortable Liz said,  “Miss Ellie, if you think what you want to tell her might upset her, perhaps you shouldn’t tell her now.”

             
“If not now, when?”

             
“When she’s better.”

             
“What if she doesn’t get better?”

             
Liz turned to Miss Ellie with a look of complete surprise. “Don’t say that. She’s got to get better.” Unexpected urgency crept into her voice. Liz, better than most people, knew what Maggie faced. She knew the odds, but somehow Maggie had always come out on top; she refused to believe she wouldn’t do so again.

Miss Ellie looked away from her, aware that she’d hit a nerve
. Maggie’s health was an on-going topic in The Quaker Café. Daily Miss Ellie listened to people recount stories of someone they knew who had cancer. Miss Ellie wanted to return from the hospital with a good report, but at the same time she was realistic. Life has a way of forcing you to consider all the alternatives.

*****

              They put on the gown and masks before they went into Maggie’s room. Despite Miss Ellie’s attention to dress, she was transformed into just another caregiver on the floor. Maggie was sitting up in a chair and looked at her hard before she let out a long sigh and reached out her hand. Miss Ellie took it and immediately hugged her.

             
For the first hour they talked about the wedding while Liz rearranged the pillows, and then sat on the floor and rubbed Maggie’s feet.

“Did you wear my necklace?”
Maggie asked.

“I did,” Liz replied
. “It’s beautiful. Lots of people commented on it.”

“I want you to keep it,” Maggie said
. “I want Billie to have something, too. Miss Ellie, you heard me say that. I want Liz to have that necklace.”

“I heard you, dear,” Miss Ellie said
. “She certainly deserves it.”

Liz objected, but that discussion seemed finished
.

Miss
Ellie started to talk… brought regards and well-wishes from the denizens of the café. Frank Busby was the same as ever. Doc Withers said there’d been a spike in rabies, mostly among raccoons. Henry hoped the rain would hold off so they could turn the peanuts and let them get good and dry.

             
Liz sensed when Miss Ellie started to look for an opening to shift the conversation. Finally…“Maggie, did you know that your father and I were high school sweethearts?”

             
“I think I knew that, Miss Ellie. He told me several times that you had always been one of the special people in his life, going way back.”

             
“He asked me to marry him.”

             
“Did he really?  I didn’t know that. Why didn’t you?”

             
“Well, we were in high school…too young. By the time I turned eighteen he had gone to college.”

             
“You could have waited for him,” Maggie said.

             
“Well, yes, I could have, but your grandparents didn’t really think I was a good match. I knew that all along.”

             
“Their loss.” Maggie squeezed Miss Ellie’s hand.

             
Miss Ellie turned to face Maggie more directly and cupped Maggie’s hand with both of hers. “Then Walter Cartwright came along. He lived down in The Neck and went to school in the next county. Captain of their football team…fine looking. I always loved the dimple in his chin. Do you remember that?”

“Sure I do
. He was a sweetheart.”

“His mother always told him that dimple was where God reached down and touched him and said
, This one is special
. She was right. I fell in love with him.”

             
“You found yourself a good husband,” Maggie said.

             
“We got married, had the two girls. I waited tables at the café. Walter, he worked as a mechanic down in The Neck. Corbett was gallivanting around the country, going to law school. I’d hear stories about him and wondered sometimes what my life might have been like if I’d married Corbett Kendall.” Miss Ellie paused.

             
“A lot different,” Maggie said.

             
“Who knows?  When he brought home that delicate little thing from New Orleans, she was hardly bigger than a soda cracker. She no more belonged in Cedar Branch than a fleet of limousines, but your father, he couldn’t see that. He was busy over in Raleigh trying to be somebody.”

Maggie looked slightly offended, but Miss Ellie didn’t notice
. She kept talking. “I’d look at that pathetic little wife of his and feel sorry for her. There wasn’t anything in our town for her.” Miss Ellie slowed down and rubbed Maggie’s hand. “Can I get you something to drink or a snack, maybe?”

“No, Miss Ellie
. You just keep talking. I like your stories.”

“Some of them aren’t easy to tell
. There was that terrible business with Isaac Perry and afterwards your mother dying and all. Our town had some bad times and no one knew exactly how things would end up.”

             
“I don’t think it ever ends,” Maggie said. “People bury the past inside them and just let it fester. It’s like mildew. You think you’ve gotten rid of it, and then the weather gets hot and sweaty. Overnight the fungus takes over.”

             
Miss Ellie cleared her throat. “I want to tell you something about your father I don’t expect you know.”

“I have a feeling there’s a lot I don’t know.”

“The money in the will….”

Maggie interrupted her, “I know, Miss Ellie, and I hope you don’t think I resent that for a minute
. You were probably the closest friend my father ever had.” 

Maggie pressed Miss Ellie’s hand to her cheek and then looked her squarely in the eyes
. “As soon as the courts release the will from probate, you’ll have a check. I hope you retire and buy some nice things for yourself.”

“I wanted to explain that to you
.” Miss Ellie said, stress apparent in her voice.

“You don’t owe me any explanations.”

              Liz rose from her chair. “I’ll just slip out to the waiting room for a bit, get a Coke.”

“No,” Miss Ellie insisted
. “Liz, please stay. I want you to stay.” 

“
The money isn’t for me,” Miss Ellie said. “It’s for my children. Your father left me a lump sum, specifically for my boy, Josh, but I plan to divide it between Josh and his two sisters.”