Episode #8: That Well You Know Feeling

“Hey, you!” The woman knocked her shopping cart into the case of “Bagel Bites” he was stocking. “What did ja do with all the Nippelodian ice cream?”

Jeff stood up straight and smiled. “Uhmm…I’ve never heard of that, but I’ve only worked here a few days.” He took a few steps to the refrigerated section and opened a door. “Here’s where we keep the ice cream. Let’s see if we can find it.”

“Right thar it is!” The woman reached down towards the bottom and hauled out a huge plastic tub. “Cain’t you read?”

Embarrassed, Jeff read the label. “Oh, Neapolitan. I misunderstood, ma’am. I thought you said…”

The woman pointed to the big black word and spelled it out loud for him. “N-E-A-P-O-L-I-T-A-N…Nippelodian! It’s Franch, you cain’t pronounce all the letters. That’s what I hate ‘bout all you ferinners. Ya think yer so much better than ever body. Go back to whar ya come from!”

“Ma’am, I’m American.” Jeff blinked.

“But you ain’t from here! Go back up North and speak Yankee to yer own kind.” She had to push hard to run over his foot, but she managed to do it, mumbling, “Comin’ to our town and takin’ all are jobs…” as she went.

Jeff just shook his head and limped back over to the Bagel Bites and finished stocking them. He broke down the box, doing his best to smile and say hello to everyone that knocked into him or told him to get out of the way. He broke the empty box down and placed it on his float.

Looking over the carnage of the grocery store, he wanted to stand on the float and yell at the top of his lungs, “Yes, it’s snowing outside! Better hurry, you’ll never ever be able to buy food again!”

Another woman grabbed him by the arm. “Are you stockin' here?”

“I’m trying ma’am, but there’s not much left.” He said. “Is there something I can help you find?”

“Yes. I need a case a them microwave dinners. Them kind that ain’t frozen.” She snapped like he should have known.

“Oh, I’m sorry ma’am. We are all out. They’ve been on sale, and the truck couldn’t get here because of the bad weather.”

“Stop yappin’ boy, and run in the back and get me some. Don’t care what kind, just mix me up a case.”

“Ma’am, there aren’t any in the back. We’re all out.” He tried to smile. “Hopefully, we’ll have some more on Monday. That’s when the next truck comes in.”

“All out?” She screamed. “You ain’t got narry one in the back?”

“No, ma’am. I’m so sorry.”

“Well, I swan. I bet if I's a Butler 'er a Trivette you'd have some.” She grabbed her cart and started to storm off. She stopped in front of him and screamed in his face. “I jus’ want you ta know, that when the ‘lectricity goes out, my kids ain’t gonna have nothin’ ta eat, an’ it’s all yer fault!”

“But ma’am, if the electricity goes out, you won’t be able to use the microwave anyway.” He said meekly.

“That’s why I want them kind that ain’t frozen, ya fool!”

Jeff yanked his feet out of the line of her cart wheels just in time. He sighed, then weaved and veered until he got his empty float off the floor. He took a few minutes and pushed the last jugs of milk through the doors so they could be snapped up by those convinced they’ll never ever be able to buy milk again.

All the eggs and bread were gone, he was hoping the last gallons of milk would give people something else to fist fight over rather than taking it out on him. He looked at his watch, a half hour to go. Jeff took a deep breath, plastered a smile back on and headed out to the sales floor. He’d block what was left on the shelves until time to go.

He’d just stepped out and a little tot of a girl with bushy red hair darted right into him.

“Baby Girl!” He heard the mother bellow. “I said to not let go of the cart!”

The little doll looked up at him and smiled. The sweetness melted all the nastiness of the rest of the day away.

“Sowwy, mithtah!” She said.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He smiled back. “You better run back to your mama, and don’t let go of that cart anymore. Okay?”

“Oh tay.” She turned around and he watched her slip her fingers through the metal mesh of the cart, all the while looking at him and grinning away.

“Jeff?” He heard the mother’s voice again. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Deanna?” Jeff finally recognized her. The last time he’d seen her she was about to give birth on the floor in Homeroom. “How you doin’?”

She grinned from ear to ear, making Jeff see the resemblance in her daughter’s smile. “Jes’ fine! I ain’t seed you since the first day a school. You likin’ it?”

“It’s fine. I’m still adjusting, but school is school.” He took a step towards her and rubbed her little girl’s curls again. “Did you not come back after the baby was born?”

“They made me git one them tutor thangs, but soon as all this snow melts enough to run the buses agin’, I’ll be back.”

“Good. Home room’s been a little dull without you.”

“Aw, that’s sa sweet.” Deanna smiled. “An’ thank ye fer the diapers. Them disposable kind is a real treat. I’m only a usin’ ‘em fer special occasions.”

“I’m glad you liked them.” Jeff noticed the car seat strapped in the shopping cart. “Is that the baby?”

“Yup.” Deanna picked the chubby little boy from the trundle and plopped him right in Jeff’s unexpecting arms. “This is Derek Hough Morely and…” she reached down in the basket and picked up an equally chubby identical baby. “…this is Maksim Chmerkovskiy Morely.”

“Twins?”

“Uh huh…fer some reason when I pop out boys they comes in pairs.”

“You named them after those people on ‘Dancing With the Stars’?”

“I figured they’s the reason I got pregnant in the first place.” Deanna frowned. “I feel kinda bad about not namin’ one after that Mark Ballis, but I be dang if I was havin’ triplets just to name one after him.”

“Well, they’re definitely interesting names for two very beautiful little boys.” Jeff stood there holding Derek Hough, hoping Deanna was intending on taking him back eventually.

“I’m callin’ em D.H. and M.C.” She plopped M.C. back in the basket. “I think that sounds modern without bein' stupid, don’t you? I jus’ hate it when people names they kids somethin’ stupid.” She looked up and growled. “Impala, git outta that woman’s cart an’ get back over here.”

“I’d better get back to work.” Jeff held the baby toward Deanna. “I guess I’ll see you in homeroom at Spring thaw.”

Deanna giggled. “Yer funny!” One hand on the cart, and one hand on red headed Impala she started to shove off. “I’ll see ya soon.”

“Uhmm…Deanna?” Jeff held the baby very definitely toward her. “I think this is yours?”

“Lawdy!” Deanna slapped her forehead. “When ya got six under six, sometimes ya ferget where ya put one.” She took the baby from Jeff’s arms and strapped him back in the seat. “…but I reckin that’s why God makes babies cry sa much.”

She rattled off and Jeff stood there wondering if he should check the aisles for mislaid redheaded toddlers. He looked up and saw another face he recognized, one that made him smile.

“Miss Ruby!” He called out.

The old woman smiled back and pushed her cart right over to him, keeping one hand on it while she gave him a big old hug. “Jeff! I was a hopin’ I’d see you!” She pushed him back and chided him. “An’ I tol’ja ta call me Maw Maw.”

He blushed. “But you’re not really…”

“Hesh up, chil’” She smiled. “There’s blood and there’s heart. Yer def’nitly that last ‘en.”

“Thank you.” It was his turn to chide her. “Now what are you doing out in weather like this?”

She waved her hands at him. “Law, Jeff. This ain’t nothin’. When I was yer age I had to walk ten miles barefoot up the mountain ta school in snow deeper’n this a fightin’ off Indians at the same time.”

“I see you’re wearing your tee shirt.” He laughed.

“A course!” She stuck her sagging chest out and smoothed the picture emblazoned with the words ‘Save Mark Hapka’. “I kin still watch ‘im til March I figure. I’m hopin’ there’s still a chance they’ll bring ‘im back. He ain’t been a Twitterin’ much, but I figure they’s throwin’ him one a them goodbye orgies. Ain’t that what they calls ‘em?”

“Uhhh...”

“Now…” Maw Maw reached in her purse and pulled out a box, handing it to him. “This is fer you.”

“Me?”

“Uh huh. A li’l thank ye and late Christmas present.” She grinned.

“Miss…Maw Maw. You didn’t have to do that.”

“P’shaw! Jes’ open it.”

Jeff ripped the paper off one end and his jaw dropped. “Ma’am this is an I-Phone.”

“That’s what they calls it.” She smiled. “I was a hoggin’ Brod’s laptop, so me an’ Dreama Holmes runned down ta that store on Exit 7 and got me one. An’ while I was there I got a good deal on them thangs.” She pointed to the gadget in Jeff’s hands. “So I got one fer me, Brod, Modene an’ you. Had ta make sure all m’Twitter buddies had one, too.”

“But, Maw Maw these are expensive. How could you afford…?”

“Shush now. You’d be surprised at what you can get when yer 86 an’ can fake a fall in a chain store. Come shoppin’ with me sometime. I’ll show ya how ta gets a good deal.”

“I don’t know what to say.” He said as he gave her a big hug.

“Don’t say nothin’ jus’ come over to the house this weekend and show me some more stuff on the computer. Fer an ol’ lady, I’m a havin fun! Did you know they’s a place called Hulu whar you kin watch TV shows anytime?”

“Yes I did.”

“I been watchin’ Mark Hapka almost all day long. Vonda Kay’s got a TiVo now, so she’s gonna down load some episodes on her computer sos she can edit all the good butt shots ta put on disk fer me!”

Jeff bit his lip. “I’ll be happy to come over any time if that’s okay with Brod.”

“Brod?” She frowned. “Why wouldn’t be okay wi’him?”

“Well…” Jeff looked at his feet. “I think I make him uncomfortable, that’s all.”

“Honey, he’s a gettin’ over it. We all gots ta remember how he feels. He ain’t never had no contact at all wi’ his Daddy, an’ suddenly after almost eighteen years he comes back inta his life wi’ you in tow.”

“I understand.” Jeff looked at her with a weak smile. “I’ve never seen my biological father either. So I know how he feels.”

“Sweetheart.” Maw Maw put her hand on his arm. “I didn’t know that.”

Jeff nodded. “I can only imagine what Brod must think when I'm around.”

She touched his cheek with her withered fingers. “Honey, ya’ll have sa much in common. Give it time.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Ruby Acres!” A snide shout came from behind them. “I am surprised to see you!”

Maw Maw’s eyes closed to slits and her old voice dropped an octave. “Arzella Tater, you about in all this snow?”

“Of course, dear.” The woman’s cart came to an abrupt stop as she looked down on Maw Maw and Jeff. “Marcella’s birthday party is today. It always the bash of the year, too many would be disappointed if we canceled. Most of the county would hap’ply risk death to get to one of my parties, let ‘lone a celebration of my Marcella’s birth!”

Maw Maw smiled. “Did Dreama drop off the gift I bought fer Marceller?”

“Yes, Ruby. She’ll open it with the rest of the gifts.” Arzella sneered. “The ones from people who were invited.”

“Well, ain’t nothin’ ‘spensive, just a new pair a knee pads.” Maw Maw looked at Jeff. “I heard the football team say she’d worn her’s out.”

“Yes, she goes through them like peanuts.” Arzella cocked her head and smiled obliviously. “Marcella is so athleltic.”

“Sump’n like that.” Maw Maw said.

“Well, I just wanted to say hello.” Arzella grasped her cart. “I had heard you weren’t up to par, and was shocked to see you out in this weather.”

“I had a little weak spell, but I’m back a full tilt a’gin.”

“That’s good.” Arzella looked at her tee and Jeff could see her lips move as she read. “Save Mark Hapka? Why, Ruby, how wonderful that you’ve taken to carryin’ on the Lord’s work.”

“What er you talkin’ ‘bout, Arzella?”

Arzella scowled and pointed to Maw Maw’s shirt. “Save Mark Hapka. I assume you’ve started a massive effort to save that young man’s soul.”

“He’s a Horton, Arzella, that’s purdy much a free ticket ta heaven.”

“Then why…?”

“Never mind, Arzella, it’s sumpin you cain’t unnerstand.”

Arzella Tater squinted her eyes and put her hands on her hips, 90% cellulite, 10% hip. “Are you insinuatin’ I’m stupid?”

“P’shaw, I ain’t insinuatin’ nothin’…”

“Ma’am…” Jeff decided to step in. “Is there something I can help you find…for the party?”

Arzella smiled and turned her attention to him. “Yes, young man. Cheese, I need cheese and let me remind you, this ain’t no Moretz hoedown. This is a fine ta do with class!”

“Of course.” Jeff put up his hand before Maw Maw could make a come back. “All we have in this aisle is your standard American, Swiss and Colbys but the Deli should have some nice imported soft cheeses like Brie and Gouda.”

“Gouda?” Arzella turned up her nose. “This is a first class party young man. We ain’t havin’ no ferrin garbage! Only the best fer my Marcella. She gets squirt cheese!”

Jeff slapped his hand to his mouth to stifle the laugh Maw Maw barely hid. Arzella pushed her cart away from them and threw snidely over her shoulder, “Squirt cheese on Chicken in a Bisket!”

“Look honey, I’d better git outta here afore I git both of us in trouble.” Maw Maw kissed Jeff’s cheek. “Now you be careful goin’ home.”

“I have four wheel drive.”

“I got four wheels, too.” Maw Maw smiled. “And sometimes, all four of ‘em’s on the ground when I drive.”

Jeff shook his finger at her as she headed toward the check out. She got in Luller Needles line, so she knew it wouldn’t take long. Sure enough, as she started putting her groceries on the belt her buddy Dreama Holmes appeared, chomping at the bit.

“Luller rush her through. We gots ta get home.” Dreama said.

“I know. I’ll do that best I kin, Dreama honey. I wanna git home m’self. I hate drivin’ in all this stuff.” Luller said rubbing a can of collard greens across the red eye.

“Oh, we don’t care nothin’ bout the snow Luller.” Maw Maw plopped a sack of White Lily on the belt. “Miss Americer’s on tonight. Me an’ Dreama ain’t a missed one since the first TV set in Johnson County.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve watched one of them since that little Sonya Pleasant from Mountain City was Miss Tennessee.” Luller ran a few more items across the eye. “You want yer milk in a bag?”

“No, honey. It’s easier to haul by hand.” Maw Maw handed Luller her coupons. “I was so mad she didn’t even make the finals, but a hometown girl was Miss Tennessee so that was nice.”

“You know they should have a Miss Johnson County agin.” Dreama hefted some plastic bags into the cart. “We haven’t had one a them in twenty years or more.”

“Shoot, Dreama.” Luller snapped her gum. “They ain’t had enough smart, nice purdy girls to have one in twenty years.”

“El, they find fifty to represent Americer.” Maw Maw handed Luller some cash. “So ya know half ‘em gots ta be fakin’ it. Thar should be 'nough sluts in Johnson County ta fake bein' good girls fer a beauty pageant.”

Luller handed Maw Maw her change. “Maybe I’ll get m’husband ta watch it with me tonight. I usually don’t let ‘im watch lots of girlie thangs, ‘cept women’s basketball.”

“You let Wally Dean watch women’s basketball?” Maw Maw grabbed a bag from her hand and plopped it in her cart.

“He says it’s because them girls er in it fer the love a the game and not the money like the men.”

“Well, ya cain’t really argue wi’ that.” Maw Maw agreed.

“I know.” Luller sighed. “But deep down I know he jus’ likes the bouncin’ hooters.”

“Luller, we all gots them secret things we likes ta see that gives us that…well you know feelin’.” Dreama said.

“I reckon.” Luller fretted.

“I like m’stories. They do it fer me.” Maw Maw rubbed her tee shirt, “’Specially this hunk a man.”

“I like ta watch them gym-nasts.” Dreama put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “Law the way they kin twist themselves and theys all them muscles that bulge out in the right places.”

“Maybe that’s m’problem.” Luller said. “Ta be honest, if ya wanna git ta me rub a grilled steak behin’ yer ears an’ talk like a loaded baked tater.”

Maw Maw shook her head and put the last plastic sack in her cart. “Luller, you just need ta spend some time on the Food Network.”

“Oooh! I love that channel!” Her eyes brightened and she smiled.

“See?” Dreama said getting behind the cart loaded with groceries for two snowy households. “We all gots them secret things we watch cause they make us feel good.”

“Tha’s right, Luller.” Maw Maw grabbed the cart, too. “Don’t go frettin’ ‘bout Wally Dean a watchin’ women’s basketball.”

“I guess yer right.” She smiled at her friends. “You girls be careful. Them roads is awful.”

“We jes’ gots a straight shot up the mountain.” Dreama reminded her. “But we’ll be right careful.”

“You, too, honey.” Maw Maw helped Dreama push the loaded cart towards the doors.

Luller turned to her next customer. “Nonnie Funk! I ain’t seed you in ages!”

The arthritic lady stood there with a loaf of bread cradled in one arm and five pounds of sugar in the other, snuff dripping down the wrinkles in the corners of her mouth. “Huh!” She snorted and spit on the floor.

“Would like ta take advan’age of are special? Two nabs fer a dollar?”

“No!” The woman huffed. She slammed her bread on the conveyor and before Luller could push the button she slammed the sugar on top, completely obliterating the bread. “An’ if m’ bread is smashed one more time afore I git it home…”

Episode #7: The Hapka of Our Lives

Vista Kay opened the door and let her twin sister Vonda Kay inside.

“How’s she doin’?” She asked as she closed the door behind her.

“It’s bad, honey.” Vista pushed her hair back in place and motioned Vonda to follow her down the hall to their mother’s room. “I didn’t think she'd take the news like this. I just had no idea.”

“She’s 86 years old.” Vonda sighed. “It don’t take much to set her off.”

“But this…” Her sister shook her head. “I’ve tried ever thing to pull her outta it, but it’s been a week.”

“A week! Law, she hain’t tuck to her bed fer that long since they canceled “Another World”.” Vonda held up the Lock’n’lock she held in her hand. “Well, maybe this’ll cheer her up. If not, I got one more trick up m’sleeve.”

“Good luck.” Vista sighed. “I’ve tried ever thing I can think of, even offered t’ load the shotgun and let her shoot at any thing that moves in the backyard.”

“Mercy, that usually perks her right up.”

“Like I said, honey.” Vista put her hand on her mother’s bedroom door. “This is worse than I’ve ever seen her.”

Vista knocked lightly and pushed opened the door. “Mama? Look who’s here?”

The sisters stepped in the room and gazed at their mother, laid back on the gingham pillowcases, still in a rumpled bed with the curtains closed.

The old woman turned her head to the door and smiled feebly. “Vonda Kay. You come to say goodbye.”

“Oh pooh, Mama. Don’t wanna hear ya talk like that.” Vonda whisked into the bedroom trying hard to be a ray of sunshine. She snapped off the lid of what she was carrying and presented it to her mother, holding it under her nose so she could get a good whiff. “Look what I made, just fer you?”

“Steak fingers?” She asked.

Vonda nodded. “All fer you. I know how much you like ‘em.”

The old lady looked sadly down at the breaded, deep fried meat and sighed.

“They’s still hot…” Her daughter encouraged.

“Uhmmmm, they smell good.” Vista smiled. “Kin I have one?”

“No. They’s all fer Mama.” Vonda picked one up. “Want one?”

The old lady shook her head. “Just put the lid back on and put ‘em over there. I’ll share ‘em with the angels when they come ta take me ta heaven.”

Vonda tried one more time. “What if the angels are vegetarians?”

Her mother shot her a look. “Then I’ll know I’ve died an’ gone ta hell.” She crossed her arms, pulled the handmade quilt up tighter and stared into space.

“Aw, Mama.” Vonda sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s got’cha in such a state?”

“Life just ain’t worth livin’ no more.” The woman’s wrinkled face trembled and her eyes teared up.

Vista took the cover crocheted to look like a possum off the Kleenex, picked up the box and sat on the other side of the bed to hand them to her.

The 86 year old took one, honked her nose and sniffed. “The world just ain’t a place an ol’ lady like me needs ta be. I’m jest gonna lay here and wait fer Jesus to come an' kill the rest a me, like they done to m’heart.”

Vonda looked at Vista who shrugged her shoulders as their mother balled up the used Kleenex and lobbed a perfect shot into the trash can without rim. They all turned to the commotion barreling down the hall.

“Maw Maw!” Brod said as he threw open the door. “Maw Maw open them curtains an' see what me and Modene made fer ya in school.” He ran in the bedroom and threw open the blinds flooding the dank room with light.

“Law, child!” Maw Maw threw her hands in front of her face. “You tryin’ ta blind me afore the vegetarian angels drag me ta hell?”

“Sorry, Maw Maw.” The teenager twisted the blind knob a little. Out of breath he pulled a flimsy, poorly wrapped package from his jacket. “Here. Me and Modene spend extry time in the media center today and made this fer ya.” Brod smiled as he placed the package in his grandmother’s hands.

“Sweet Chil’ I don’t want no presents.” His grandmother sighed. “I just wanna go be with yer Granpaw. He’s been in heaven five years now, so I’m sure he’s got on socks that don’t match.”

“Open it, Mama.” Vista said. “It gots ta be something purdy. You know how Brod and his cousin git when they sit down at the computer.”

Brod grinned from ear to ear as his grandmother opened the paper. Contents revealed, she looked up. “That’s real sweet, Brod honey. Thank you.” She let it lay there untouched.

“Hold it up.” Brod shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. “We made it special fer ya.”

“Let me he’p ya, Mama.” Vista picked up the tee shirt, let it unfold and laid it picture out against her mother’s chest. Vista’s eyes lit up and she giggled. “That’s perfect Brod!”

“We thought so.” He smiled.

Vonda looked at the emblem on the white shirt. “Save Mark Hapka? Is that was all this is about? A soap opera?”

Maw Maw put her hands to her face and sobbed. “First John and Marlena, then Patch and Kayla and now they’ve let that sweet little Horton boy out of his contract!” She wailed.

Vonda Kaye stood up and slammed her hands on her hips. “Mama! It’s just a soap opera for cryin’ out loud. It ain’t the end a the world!”

The old lady whipped her head to stare at her daughter with eyes blazing. “I can get over that Blackburn’s is now a Food Country. I got used to always havin’ ta look fer the phone when it rings and I learned to live wi’the fact that a gallon a gas cost more’n a pair a good panties but that boy made that show! It’s too much!”

“Burned biscuits, Mama!” Vonda snorted. “Why don’t you just watch some other show?”

“Watch some other show?” Maw Maw grabbed the covers with her fists. “I’ve watched that show forever! It's my story! Them Hortons mean just as much ta’me as you do.”

“But they’re characters in a TV Show.”

“They’s Horton and they ain’t many real ones left, Vonda Kay.” Maw Maw crossed her arms in defiance.

“That’s just silly.” Vonda plopped back down on the bed and picked up the tee shirt, looking at the picture on it. “It’s an actor named Mark Hapka, not a Horton.”

“Ah know, I’m old. I ain’t senile.” The old lady snapped and grabbed her tee shirt back. “But he plays the last real Horton on m’show. After Miss Alice passed away this year, me ‘n’ the Hortons are like dinosaurs; one breath away from bein’ a horror movie on the SyFy network.”

Vista played with the top button on her blouse. “You got to admit, Vonda. He is a little cutie."

Her sister smiled. “Well, he is adorable.”

“Adorable?” Maw Maw scrunched her nose. “He’s a hottie. That boy’s got the best tushie in Salem. Now they’ve kicked it to the curb.”

The sisters exchanged glances. “Now, Mama you know they just may not have cable in heaven. How you gonna keep up with yer story if you go to heaven and cain’t watch?”

“Don’t be stupid.” The old woman snapped. “’Course they’s got cable. It’s heaven, not a Walmart. Mebbe me and Alice Horton can teach yer Daddy how to match his socks.”

“Maw Maw…” Brod finally said. “Don’t talk like ‘at. You know how much I needs ya here.”

“Yer a growd man, Brod honey. Ya don’t need an’ old lady ‘round no more.”

“Course I do.” Brod kneeled next to the bed and took his Grandmother’s hand. “Who’s gonna he’p me make sure m’ socks don’t clash with m’underwear?”

“I keep tellin’ ya tighie whities go with ever thing and they’s sexy as all get out.”

“Then there’s m’ Daddy comin home outta the blue with another son my age and bein’ the new principal o’ the high school ta boot. I’m a senior Maw Maw, you know that’s gonna ruin homecomin’.”

His Maw Maw took his hand and smiled so dearly. “Broderick baby, life is tough sometimes, but yer young and can handle all the changes. Ya got strength and character. Person’ly I’m just too pooped ta deal with it anymore.”

“But Maw Maw…” Brod started to argue.

She put her withered hand to his lips. “Thank ya kindly fer the shirt. Make sure they bury me in it.”

Brod looked at his mother and aunt defeated.

Vonda picked up the shirt and looked closely at the picture. “Mama, this boy is cute, but they’s much better lookin’ men left in Salem. That man who plays Brady's awful nice on the eyes.”

Maw Maw rolled her eyes. “He’s fine, but he ain’t no Horton.”

“He’s got such a nice chest, and those eyes.” Vonda closed her eyes. “He’s just yummy.”

“He’s sugar cake, Vonda.” Her mother reached for her tee shirt and held it close. "My Nathan Horton’s red velvet…red velvet cake with whip cream!”

“What about Doctor Dan?” Vista closed her eyes and licked her lips. “That man, talk about hot with a great tushy…”

“Great ever thing…” Vonda agreed.

“I don’t get it.” Brod looked up at the women. “What’s all the women sa crazy about that Shawn Christian fer? He’s just a hairy chest slammed down on a bunch a muscles.”

“It’s that smile.” His mother sighed.

“That smile on that face on that body.” His aunt chimed in.

“He’s a slut.” Maw Maw jumped in. “Sure he’s a hunk a man, but the man cain’t keep it in his pants. First that Chelsea girl, young enough ta be his daughter, then Kate that poor girl’s Granmaw mind ja, then Chloe. Mercy, an come ta find out he had a baby with Carly, whom I love but should not be with Bo…that’s just wrong!”

“You know, Bo’s awful good.” Vista suggested.

“I always liked him.” Vonda agreed. “Bad boys just do it fer me.”

“What about Bo, Maw Maw? Ain’t he worth livin’ fer?” Brod hoped.

The old lady curled her lips. “He’s got Hope, you just know they’ll get back tagether. Either that or I’ll come back an’ haunt them people.”

Maw Maw slashed her hand through the air. “Nathan Horton is the best man on that show. I’ve waited forever fer him and that sweet little Melanie to get tagether, an’ if Mark Hapka is a leavin m’show…then that does it. I’m a leavin’ this world!”

“Mama, honey, tomorrow just in case, let’s watch another show. Maybe we’ll find you another sweet face and firm butt to make you wanna live.” Vista smoothed the quilt.

“I’ll watch sumpin else with ya, but at one it’s still “Days of Our Lives”. She determined.

“Fine.” Vista stood up and put the Kleenex box back in the possum. “But I think we’ll watch “The Young and the Restless", too. We watched it a couple of times, remember? You seemed to like it.”

Maw Maw nodded her head. “I liked that little gay man they brought back.”

“That narrows it down.” Brod said under his breath.

“You know the one with the same body but the new face?” The old woman said.

“What?” Her daughter asked.

“You know the one.” Her mother scolded. “He was on the show years ago, then died and they made a big deal when the actor came back.”

“Oh yeah. I know who yer talkin’ about” Vonda chirped. “That Thom Bierdz. He’s a cutie.”

Maw Maw slapped the underside of her chin with the top of her hand. “He’s had a little work done, not that they’s anything wrong with that. They did such a good job on him, if I could afford it I mighta done it m’self.”

Vonda looked at Vista and smiled. “Well, Mama. I got some money. If you wanna have some o’that plastic surgery get yer dress on and I’ll run you right down ta Johnson City and we'll get it done.”

“Aw, that’s sweet child, but no thanks.” Maw Maw sighed. “They’d have ta do sa much nippin and tuckin’ to make me look young agin I could flick out m’navel lint out with m’tongue.”

"You know." Vonda said. "I shouldn't admit this, but I actually like that "One Life Ta Live" mor'n "Days" anyway. You should try that story."

"One Life Ta Live!" Her mother's head spun around. Vista and Brod stepped back knowing pea soup would spew forth any moment. "Get down on your knees and beg God forgiveness child!"

"I knowed I shouldn't a mentioned that." Vonda looked at the floor in mortal shame.

There was another slight knock at the door. It eased open and a familiar but long missing face peeked in.

“Maw Maw?” he said.

“Ronnie?” The old lady reached out her arms and let her other grandson swoop in.

Vonda turned to Vista smiling and whispered. “Told ja, I had another trick up m’sleeve.”

The old lady pushed her grandson back so she could get a good look at him. “When did they let you outta prison?”

“Just this mornin’.” He kept his arm around his grandmother and kissed the top of her mussed gray head.

“El Ronnie…” Vista bent over to give her nephew’s cheek a kiss. “Why didn’t no one tell us.”

“I was gonna.” Vonda said. “But then you tol’ me about Mama, an’ I thought the surprise might be enough to cheer her up.”

“Oh law, it does make me happy.” Maw Maw squeezed her grandson close. “I’m s’glad they decided twus a accident after all.”

“No, Maw Maw.” Ronnie corrected her. “Sorry ta say twernt no accident. Some fool runned over that girl with m’hay bailer on purpose, but they declared me innocent. Said twernt no way possible I coulda done it.”

“I coulda told ‘em that.” Maw Maw said confidently.

“They said she got runned over after that big rain storm an’ if Ronnie’d done it there would been blood on his clothes and the tops a his shoes, not just the bottoms from when he found her.” Vonda announced.

“Yup.” Ronnie smiled. “Between the rain and watchin’ “Days of Our Lives” I gots saved me from another jail term fer murder.”

“Aw, sweetie.” Maw Maw put her head on her grandson’s shoulder. “Nobody liked that first man you kilt.”

“Hey! I got an idea!” Brod piped in. “If they do a TV movie of yer story…” Brod held up the tee shirt he made. “Have Mark Hapka play you!”

“That’s a great idea!” Vista chirped. “He’s so much better than that guy with the Mohawk on ‘Glee’”.

“The dude who plays Nathan Horton?” Ronnie looked at his grandmother. “Is that what’s got ya so upset Maw Maw?”

“He’s leavin’ the show honey.” She sniffed. “I ain’t got no reason ta live.”

“Well, if it’ll make ya happy.” Ronnie told her. “I won’t sign a contract unless he plays me.”

“Ooh!” Vista piped up. “And the girl who plays Jennifer Horton can play the three a us.” She motioned to her sister and her mother.

“Oh she’s a good actress…” Maw Maw smiled. “An’ a real Horton, too!”

“And we’re all natch’ral blondes.” Vonda patted her hair.

“Today…” Brod coughed into his hand.

“You like this Hapka guy, Maw Maw?” Ronnie asked.

“Yes’m. He’s a true Horton and the hottest man in Salem. I’ll still watch ‘til I die, but ain’t got no reason ta live if he ain’t on m’show.”

“Hot?” Ronnie asked. “Ya know, I think if I was a woman I’d be all over that Stefano Dimera…”

“Stefano?” Maw Maw’s jaw dropped. “Land sakes, why on earth would you think that?”

“El Maw Maw, ever time you turn around he’s got another kid comin outta somewhere like cockroaches. He may not know nothin’ ‘bout birth control but ya gotta know he knows how ta satisfy a woman.”

“I never thought ‘bout that.” His grandmother mused.

“Ya know he’s ‘bout yer age…” Vista smiled and her mother giggled.

“I kinda think his newest kid is hot.” Vonda said.

“That Chad?” Maw Maw looked at her. Vonda nodded. “He’s cute, but he ain’t no Nathan. 'Sides they may be dancin’ round it, but I jes know him and that Will Horton is meant ta be.”

“Ooh…Will…” Vonda said. “Have you seen him with his shirt off? If he’s seventeen then I kin believe it’s butter.”

“Maw Maw?” Modene Moretz stuck her head in the door.

“Modene?” The old lady looked up.

“I’m sa sorry.” She apologized as she stepped in. “We knocked and the door was open…”

“Anytime, youngun…you know that.” Vonda gave her niece a hug.

“We?” Maw Maw asked. “Who’s we?”

“I brought a friend.” Modene reached out into the hall and pulled another boy in the crowding little country bedroom.

Brod stood and growled. “What’s he doin’ here?”

“Calm down, Brod.” Modene shushed him. “Ever body this is Jeff Neff.”

“Hello.” The boy said quietly.

“Oh my.” Vonda said.

“You’re my…” Vista said.

“Yes, ma’am. Mac Moretz is my stepfather.”

“Let’s not worry ‘bout all that right now.” Modene stepped right in. “Brod go get yer laptop and bring it here.”

“What?”

“Jest do it. Jeff’s come up with a way to hep Maw Maw.” Modene said. “Now run.”

“No need to hep me girl.” Maw Maw said and then held up the tee shirt. “This was awful purdy. Thank you.”

“Yer welcome.” She kissed her grandmother. “Hey Ronnie, they let you out again?”

“Yup.” Ronnie smiled. “I’ll be a little more careful where I park m’bailer fer a while.”

“Good idea.” Modene smiled.

Brod entered with the laptop. “Okay. Here it is.”

Jeff reached out his hand. “May I?”

Brod held it back a moment. “This is ta help my Maw Maw?”

“Yes.”

Begrudgingly he handed it to him. “Alright then.”

“Thank you.” Jeff took the laptop and laid it on the bed. “Ma’am, do you know anything about computers?”

Maw Maw looked at him. “IBM do you?”

He laughed. “Have you ever tried to use one?”

“Child, I’m too old to mess with such things.”

“Can you read?” He asked.

“Of course I can read…” Maw Maw was almost insulted.

“Can you spell?”

“Mama was a State Spellin’ Bee champ when she was younger.” Vista said with pride.

“Then this will be a piece of cake for you.” Jeff looked at the old lady. “May I?”

Maw Maw motioned for him to sit down. Modene and Ronnie popped up from her bedside and Jeff took their place sliding the lap top around so both he and Maw Maw could see the screen.

“Now Modene told me all about your problem.” Jeff said.

“Problem?” Maw Maw said. “I got it all worked out. NBC’s the one with the problem.”

Jeff smiled. “Well, let me put it this way. You're upset because Mark Hapka is leaving your soap opera and you’ll never see him again, right?”

“Sure ‘nuff.” Maw Maw said. “They brought that boy in and he stole m’heart. Now they’s rippin’ ‘em both out.”

“Well, he’s leaving the show, ma’am, but I found a way so he never has to leave your life.”

“What?” Maw Maw was confused.

“Jeff and I have signed you up for a Twitter account.” Modene smiled.

“A what?”

“Just watch how simple this is.” Jeff said.

He told the old woman what to type in and her face lit up. “Why that’s a pitch’er a me!”

“That’s because it’s your account. See right there…you’re MawMaw#1 on Twitter, and right here where it says followers are Modene and Brod and me. So whatever you type in and send we’ll all be able to read.”

“That’s so sweet child.” Maw Maw said, "But what does this have to do with m’ sweet Nathan Horton?”

“Well over here.” He patiently showed her what to do. “Is a list of people you are following. Anything they type in and send you’ll get to read. Now who’s there?”

Maw Maw slipped the glasses on that Vonda handed her. She cocked her head to see just right. “Let’s see there’s Brod, Modene and that’s you…”

“And…” Modene giggled.

“Law!” Maw Maw said. “That’s that sweet little Melanie from m’soap an…that’s m’boy! That’s m’ sweet lovely Nathan!”

Jeff nodded his head. “And anything he tweets, you can read. You can now know what he does and says even after he’s no longer on your show.”

“That’s jes amazin’!” Maw Maw cooed. “Can I send him a message?”

“Well not unless he’s following you, but you can respond to anything he tweets and he can read that.” Jeff pointed to the screen. “Look he just tweeted “Last week in Salem.”

“Aw…” Someone in the room said.

“Now how to say somethin' back ta him?”

Jeff showed her what to do. “Now you only have 140 characters, but it will tell you if you use too many.”

“Oh good.” Maw Maw pointed to her dresser. “Ya’ll hand me them steak fingers and Vonda run go iron m’ blue dress.”

“Sure Mama. You gonna get outta bed?”

“Course I’m getting’ outta bed.” Her mother chided. “Now ya’ll leave me alone while I write somethin’ to m’Nathan Then I’ll get dressed and we’ll make us some supper.”

“I can hang around a minute in case you have some trouble.” Jeff said.

“That’d be real sweet, Jeff honey.” Maw Maw said. “You jes stay fer dinner so we kin git ta know ya. Now ya’ll git out. Let a old woman have some privacy.”

“Sure Maw Maw…” The crowd all kissed her, Brod and Modene swiping a steak finger and filing happily out into the hall.

The woman in bed sighed and typed for a minute. She looked and read it out loud.

“Dear Mark I will miss you. Your butt makes an old lady remember what its like to be a woman. Love MawMaw#1”

Then she hit send.

Episode #6: Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Mrs. Vida Leigh, the school librarian, came to a dead stop at the magazine rack. She snatched off a “Newsweek”. She knew good and well she hadn’t approved yet and began ripping out pages and pictures she deemed offensive. Once the entertainment section and anything about Democrats was in a ball in her pocket, she smiled and slipped it back on the rack.

It was the first day of the new school year, and the library was already full of seniors. She hated that the school board insisted they use her library for a homeroom. What made her even more unhappy was that the assistant football coach was the homeroom teacher.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Coach Wren, although she didn’t, she was convinced that school wasn’t any place for sports. She deemed anything that caused people to sweat or push others down was sinful, unless of course you were doing it for the Lord.

She took a seat behind the book check out, the high stool so she could look down over everyone, and gazed at this year’s crop of seniors. There was Garland Pitts, 22 and finally a senior. He was stupid as all get out, but at least he wasn’t a quitter, she thought.

Well, it wasn’t too bad a crop. There were six other senior homerooms. If she and the Home Ec teacher couldn’t get a few of them expelled or to quit there would be 99 graduating, tying with the most ever to graduate in a single year. Face it, there weren’t ninety-nine people in this county that deserved a good education.

In walked that nasty Broderick Moretz. Mrs. Leigh squinted her eyes as he took a seat at one of the tables. He was in for a surprise. He wasn’t going to get away with anything this year. She couldn’t prove that he taped the faces of Sarah Palin and Newt Gingrich on that picture of the couple copulating she’d found in the boy’s locker room, but she just knew he’d done it. He was going to pay and she was gonna make him.

She slipped off her stool and stomped right over to him. “What do you think you’re doing, young man?”

Brod looked up at her. “Reading.”

“And who gave you permission?” She put her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Leigh.” He closed his book and looked up at her. “This is the library, I just assumed…”

“You know what assuming does Broderick Moretz? It makes a you know what out of you and me.” She harped and looked down out the cover. “And we do not allow THAT kind of trash to be read in this school!”

Brod’s cousin, Modene, leaned over, looked at the book and back up at Mrs. Leigh. “The Bible?”

Mrs. Leigh pointed at it. “That is NOT a King James! Filthy filthy trash…”

Modene cleared her throat. “Mrs. Leigh weren’t you suspended last year for forcing your unsolicited religious views on a student?”

“I was helping that young lady!” She snapped.

“You were trying to perform an exorcism on Marcella Tater.” Modene reminded her flatly. “She still can’t walk past a water fountain without having a flashback.”

“I don’t know how that rumor got started.” Mrs. Leigh decided she’d better calm down and walked away.

“You shouldn’t mess with her like that, Modene.” Brod chided his cousin. “Copperheads always strike a second time.”

“Pooh!” Modene waved her hand at him. “The only reason that woman’s still here is cause Arzella Tater didn’t want any proof what a slut Marcella is brought up in court.”

“Still.” Brod shook is head and put his New King James Bible back in his backpack. “And thank you. How you holding up?”

Modene took a deep breath. “Fine.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “How ‘bout you?”

Brod smiled. “Oh just fine. I’m trying to look at it as a big adventure. It ain’t ever day that a big ol’ murder investigation lands in yer family tree. Who knows, maybe we’ll end up a Lifetime movie. That’d make Maw Maw happy.”

Modene laughed. “That’d be fun. I bet they’d get Valerie Bertinelli to play Maw Maw. She’s a good actress.”

“I was thinkin’ maybe Colin Farrell or that Mohawk guy from Glee could play Ronnie.”

“Mind of I sit here?” A new face asked.

“Not’all.” Modene smiled at the boy and shoved a chair from under the table with her foot. “Sit a spell. I’m Modene and this here’s m’cousin Brod.”

The new boy put his stuff on the table and nodded his head as he sat down. “I’m Jeff Neff. I just moved here from Maryland.”

“Nice t’meet cha Jeff Neff from Maryland.” Modene batted her eyes.

“You!” Came the squall from across the room.

Jeff bolted up straight. “Me?”

Mrs. Leigh came strutting over with her hands on her hips. “New kid, I would be more careful of my choice in friends if you wanna survive this school.”

“Oh, Mizz Leigh, it ain’t like we got cooties.” Modene looked at her. “Besides there’s only two empty chairs left, he took one and the other’s beside him.”

“Well…” The librarian grinned. “Maybe that should tell the two of you somethin’. I’ve got my eye on all three of ya…now…” She smirked and sashayed back to whatever rock she crawled out from under.

Brod leaned over. “Don’t pay any ‘tention ta her.” He pointed to his temple and made circular motions. “S’what brings ya here from Maryland?”

Jeff looked down at his stack of notebooks. “Well, my mother passed away last winter and my Stepdad and I decided to start over.”

“Ya stayed with yer Stepdad?” Brod asked.

Jeff nodded his head. “Never really met my real father, and my Stepdad practically raised me. He’s cool, kind of a best buddy and a father all in one.”

“That’s cool.” Brod smiled. He shot a glance over at Modene and then took her hand. “You okay, Modene?”

She smiled and nodded her head.

“Did I say something wrong?” Jeff asked.

“Naw, honey.” Modene looked at him. “My Daddy died a couple a weeks ago. Still hurts.”

“I understand.” Jeff tried to comfort her. “My Mama hasn’t been gone a year, and there’s still a big ache sometimes. But you’ve got to go on, Modene. Your Daddy wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Thank you.” She looked up, waved and pointed. “Deanna, over here.”

The trio looked in the direction of Modene’s shouting. Deanna Morely waddled toward them dressed in over sized overhauls and a flannel shirt. She puffed as she slammed the books she carried in front of her down on the table and had a seat.

“Is it jus’ me, or is it hot in h’yere?” She grunted.

“Probably jus’ you, girl.” Modene said. “It’s the dog days a summer. What’cha got a long sleeve flannel shirt on fer?”

“M’ kids is all got sick an’ it’s all I could find clean.” Deanna leaned back in her chair. “I thought about jus’ quittin’ but I figger I got this far might as well finish up. 'Sides I don' wanna be like my mama and not get her diplomer afore her oldest started school.”

“Kids?” Jeff was dumbfounded. “You’ve got kids?”

“Yup. Ever one looks like m’husband only with more boogers and less poop.” She ripped a page out of her notebook and made a fan.

“I haint seen Eubie lately.” Brod said. “He still at the muffler shop?”

“I reckon.” Deanna start waving herself with the paper fan. “We done split up.”

“Oh, honey.” Modene frowned. “I’m sa sorry.”

“I shoulda listened to my paw. He wanted us ta wait ta get married til I started High School, but I was thur’teen and in love.” She blew out some air and rubbed her belly. “I larned my lesson. My daughter ain’t even gonna be allowed ta date until she’s eleven.”

“You got married at thirteen?” Jeff couldn’t believe it.

“Yes’sir.” Deanna looked at him. “I was smart though. Eubie was twenny one and had a good job, so’s I could stay in school er at least I thought it was smart at the time.”

“I don’ mean to be nosy, Deanna.” Modene leaned in. “Why’d ja break up?”

“Aw.” Deanna slammed the fan on the table. “I dint ask and he dint tell, but that weatherman from channel 39 sure did.”

“That’s a Fox station.” Modene nodded her head. “They’s pretty liberal.”

“I shoulda known somethin’ was wrong.” Deanna sniffed. “Eubie got ta whar he was only frisky after watchin’ Dancin’ With the Stars".

“That Dereck Hough is a hottie.” Modene told her.

“Reckon Eubie thought so.” Deanna picked her fan back up.

Modene turned her head to look at Jeff with a big smile on her face. “So how ya likin’ Johnson County so far?”

“Just got here yesterday. M’Dad has been here a couple of days, so I haven’t seen much but the school.”

“Ain’t a whole lot here.” Brod told him. “Me an’ Modene can show ya round the county after school if ya got ten seconds ta spare.”

“That would be nice.” Jeff smiled. “I can’t get over the fact that the school’s round.”

“Don’t know why.” Modene said. “Unless they gots the plans mixed up with a Tetley tea bag.”

Jeff got a strange look on his face. “My feet are wet.”

“Huh?” Brod said.

“All of a sudden my feet are wet.”

Modene cocked her head. “Mine, too.”

“Dayam.” Deanna cursed.

“Whatsa matter with you?” Brod asked her.

“My water done broke.” She moaned.

“Yer water?” Modene piped up.

“Ohhhh.” Deanna grabbed her belly and put her head on the table. “The baby’s comin’’.

“Baby?” Jeff stood up knocking his chair over.

“Thought you said you an’ Eubie split up?” Brod leaned back in his chair and asked her.

Deanna lifted her forehead off the table and glared at him. “He left me a little partin’ gift.” She moaned and put her head back down.

“Somebody do something!” Jeff began to panic.

“Mizz Leigh!” A kid at the next table yelled not bothering to look up from his card game. “Morely’s in labor agin!”

“Call a paramedic!” Jeff rushed to Deanna and tried to help her lay down on the floor.

“Calm down, Jeff.” Modene nonchalantly reached for her purse, looking for her cell phone. “Happens all the time.”

Mrs. Leigh sauntered over to Deanna, Jeff having stretched her out on the floor. “Deanna Morely!” She scolded, bending over to look down at her. “You know you ain’t allowed to be pregnant an’ come ta school.”

Deanna grabbed her belly and looked at her. “Gimme five minutes an’ I won’t be.”

“I’m gonna tell yer mama!” The librarian warned.

“Why?” Deanna groaned. “Accordin’ ta you, she cain’t come ta school neither.” Deanna groaned and curled up in a ball.

“Oh God!” Jeff got on his knees and tried to figure out what to do. He looked up at Mrs. Leigh. “Get a book on child birth or something!”

Mrs. Leigh put her hands on her hips and raised her over plucked eyebrows. “We don’t got any books with dirty pictures in 'em young man. You just git those sinful thoughts right outta yer head.”

Modene put her cell phone away. “Just hold it in a little while longer, Deanna. I called the Rescue Squad.”

“Oh, thank ya, Modene.” Deanna groaned in appreciation. “If it’s a girl, I’ll name it after you.”

“Great, two little girls named after a toilet cake.” She mumbled.

The class bell rang. Suddenly the library came to life with students standing, scooting chairs under the tables and stepping over Deanna to get to class.

Brod stood and gathered his books. “Deanna, you be okay?”

“Oh sure, honey, ya’ll run along. I done this afore.” She shooed Jeff away. “Onect the rescue squad gits here, I’ll spit this kid out like a paint ball.”

“I can’t just leave you here like this.” Jeff protested.

“That’s so sweet. But I’ll be fine.” Deanna told him.

Modene handed Jeff his stack of books, “Com’mon Jeff. She’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” He asked.

Brod nodded then looked at Deanna. “I’ll tell Mr. Dyer you’ll be late for science.”

“Thanks, Brod. ‘Bout fifteen er twenny minutes if ain’t twins..agin.” Deanna smiled.

As they walked off, Mrs. Leigh nudged Deanna with the toe of her high heel. "You're a cleaning up this mess. I sure ain't."

Brod put his arm around Jeff’s shoulders and ushered him out into the hall. Modene following right behind. “So Jeff, you gonna try out fer football?”

“I doubt it.” Jeff turned back to look at the library. “Do you think I should tell my Stepdad about this?”

“He a doctor?” Brod stopped and asked.

“No.” Jeff looked at him. “He’s the new principal of the high school, Mac Moretz.”

Brod took his arm from around Jeff’s shoulders. “Dude. Stay away from me!” He stomped down the hall and out of sight.

“Did I say something wrong?” Jeff asked Modene.

“Mac Moretz is Brod’s daddy.” Modene smiled broadly. “Welcome to the family.”

Episode #5: Armadillo In A Box

Vista looked out the truck window as they drove by the old Quisenberry place with a sigh. “There’s a big movin’ van in the front yard.”

Maw patted her on the thigh. “Better’n than the old cars up on cinder block that used ta be there.”

“Depends on how ya look at it, I guess.” Vista said as it passed out of her vision.

“Irna Quisenberry used ta knock the windows out a them ol' wrecks and grow flowers. They was always the prettiest petunias.”

“I remember that.” Brod smiled behind the wheel. “The flowers always matched what was left a the paint jobs.”

“Ol’ Irna always had a eye fer high art.” Maw smiled. “God rest her soul.”

“Whatever happened to her boys, Mama?” Vista asked, hoping the conversation would take her mind off the fact that her ex was unloading furniture less than a mile from the house.

“Well, let’see” Maw thought a minute. “Rusty’s lives over in Sprucey Pine I hear’d…”

“He still married to Gunilla Fetter?” Vista inquired as the old truck came to a stop in the gravel drive.

“Law, honey, Gunilla died about ten year ago.” Maw eased her self out across the truck seat and stepped out. “Cow kicked her in the head.”

“Ouch.” Brod raced around to the passenger’s side and helped his Grandmother get down.

“Hear tell she lived a while, but had one eye a pointin’ east and one a pointin’ west. Course she weren’t much ta look at to begin with.” Maw brushed off her house dress and wondered toward the porch. “Other boy tuck up with a Amish girl and moved to Florida.”

“Mama?” Brod interrupted. “I’m gonna run out back and check on m’trap. See if we finally caught whatevers rippin’ up the cucumbers.”

“Take yer time, Brod.” Vista smiled. “We’ll start some supper soon, though.” She watched her boy double check the doors on the truck and meander off toward the old barn.

“If ya ketch the varmint, Brod, knock it silly and hang it’s carcass on a stick in the garden.” Maw yelled after him.

“Will do, Maw Maw.” He yelled back before he disappeared completely.

“That’ll teach those critters to mess with m’cucumbers.” Maw mumbled as she took a seat on the front porch rocker. “Lan’sakes, this day done wore me out.”

“Feels like one of them days God spits out and ever body walks around hoping someone else’ll clean up.” Vista agreed as she sat on the porch swing. “Just a nasty mess…a nasty mess.”

“Aw, Vista Kay,” Her mother moaned, “Tain’t pretty but ever one’ll be jes fine.”

“Poor Ronnie.” Vista couldn’t help but say. “I cain’t believe they think he delibertly runned that girl over with the hay bailer.”

Maw nodded her head. “Ronnie’s sure got a temper, but that’s just mean.”

“You don’t think he did it.” Vista couldn’t help but ask. “Do you?”

“Well, I can see it bein’ a accident.” Her mother rocked and looked up at the waning late summer sun. “But that police man with the fine tushy made it sound like someone gunned the tractor and kept a backing the thing over that poor girl until she was a alfalfa meatloaf.”

“Ronnie’s high strung.” Vista Kay swung a little. “But, I cain’t believe he did that.”

“Me, neither.”

“Law mercy! Law mercy!” Brod came running from the barn and headed straight for the truck.

Vista and Maw stopped in mid swing and snapped to attention. “What is it, Brod?”

Brod slammed the truck door open and grabbed the shotgun from the rack. “I caught it. Law mercy, I caught it!”

“The critter eatin’ m’cucumbers?” Maw said.

Brod dropped the gun shells he’d pulled from the glove compartment in the gravel. “Yes’m.” He excitedly squatted to pick them up and shove some in his pockets.

“Calm down, honey.” Vista Kay stepped off the porch toward her boy. “What is it that’s gotcha so excited?”

“Mama, I don’t know what it is.” Brod popped two casings in the shotgun chambers and snapped it shut. “I ain’t never seed nothin’ like it. It’s big an’ its mean and it’s uglier than Marcella Tater without ten pounds a makeup!”

“Probably just a ol’ raccoon.” Maw said.

Brod looked up at her. “Not unless someone shaved it, covered it in plastic and pissed it off. Come look at this thang.”

The ladies had trouble following him, as he was determined to take down whatever monster was in the trap. Brod was so excited he didn’t even care he was tromping down the cabbage as they made their way to the end of the garden nearest the barn.

“Look at that thang.” He pointed as they arrived at the trap.

Sure enough, there was something none of them had ever seen inside the metal trap, throwing himself against it making the heavy contraption move a few inches away from the cucumber vines with every toss. It was larger than a rabbit, with a long pointy nose and tail, and not happy at all.

“Law!” Maw whipped her hand to her collar button and squeezed it shut. “What is that thang? A alien?”

“None like I ever seed.” Brod said.

“Don’t be foolish, ya’ll.” Vista scolded them. “It’s some kinda animal.” She took a step toward the box trap.

The creature locked eyes with Vista and stopped throwing itself against the cage. A strange growl came deep within it’s throat. Vista took a step closer and squatted down.

“Why…” Vista thought a minute. “I think it’s one a them things.”

“One a them things what?” The old lady asked her.

“A armadiller. You know one of them things that eats bugs.” Vista looked over her shoulder.

“That thang ain’t eatin’, bugs.” Maw pointed her finger at it. “It’s a eatin’ m’cucumbers! Kill it!”

“Armadiller?” Brod dropped the shotgun from firing stance. “This ain’t Texas. Makes more sense it’d be a alien.”

“No.” Vista looked a little closer as the animal began to calm down a little. “Don’t know how in the world it got here, but I’m sure that’s a armadiller, and it’s scared.”

“It’d better be scared. It’s been a eatin’ m’cucumbers.” Maw snorted. “Kill it!”

“Mebbe we should call somebody.” Brod said. “Mebbe it escaped from a zoo or sumpthin.”

“Nearest zoo’s in Knoxville, Brod.” Maw said. “Unless you see some luggage or a bus ticket near by, shoot it. Shoot it now!”

“It’s kinda sweet.” Vista said reaching out a hand to it.

“Don’t touch it, Mama!” Brod warned. “Just in case it is a alien. Its death ray eyes might melt yer fingers off!”

“Aw, it ain’t gonna…” Vista’s sentence was interrupted by the animal spitting and slicing a claw at the cage.

Vista jumped back. “Kill the damn thang!”

Brod aimed his gun as the animal jumped and rattled the metal cage box.

“Wait!” Maw cried out.

“What?” Brod asked.

“Better not use yer shotgun, Brod honey.” Maw decided. “With all that’s been a goin’ on in this family, if the neighbor’s hear a gunshot they’ll all come a running with Anderson Cooper not fer behind.”

“I hate ta say it, but she’s right”. Vista agreed. “Wouldn't mind Andy Cooper droppin in fer a look see, but all them others'd just be annoyin'. Run to the kitchen cupboard and get my nine millimeter.”

“Good idea.” Brod handed his grandmother the shotgun and bolted toward the house.

“And get that big cardboard box from the pantry, too.” Maw Maw called back.

“What for?” Vista asked after seeing her son nod and dash the rest of the way out of sight.

“We kin put that over the cage ta muffle the shot.” Maw Maw said.

Vista smiled. “I keep forgetting you was alive during the ol’ moonshine wars.”

“Ya learn a trick or two.” Maw took a step toward the cage. “Law that thang is ugly. A armadeiller, you say?”

“I’m pretty sure.” Vista said. “We’ll look it up on the computer after we shoot it.”

“Wonder if the meat’s any good?” Maw asked.

“Mama…” Vista scolded. “You wanna spike it in the garden or ya wanna cook it?”

She thought a moment. “Well if we find out it’s one a them endangered species we’ll freeze it.”

Brod came puffing with the nine-millimeter in one hand and a big cardboard box in the other. “It ain’t melted nothin’ yet has it?”

“Naw.” Vista said.

Maw took the box. “Ya’ll stand back. I’m gonna slip this over the one end of the trap and one a yous trip the latch.”

Maw put the box on one end and Vista took Brod’s shotgun barrel and tripped the spring. They heard the door fly open and the armadillo raced from the cage into the box. Maw sat up the box, so it hopefully couldn’t get out. She and Vista jumped back to Brod, already aiming, as the box started shakin’.

“Good Lord!” Maw huffed. “It’s like Tasmanian Devil thing on them cartoons.”

“Well, shoot it afore it gets back in the garden.” Vista ordered.

The boy aimed and fired. The box went still. The trio leaned on their tippy toes and tried to look in the box. Suddenly the box started shaking and jumping. Blood spattering a little from the top.

“Boy…” Maw said. “You shoot like a girl.” With that she whipped a pistol from her shoulder bag, aimed and fired three quick shots into the side of the box. They heard a plop, and the box stilled.

She smiled. “Got it.”

They took a step toward the box and then all hell broke loose. That armadillo began to rip the box apart with it’s claws from the inside, blood and cardboard spraying everywhere.

The trio aimed their guns and fired everything they had. Finally, after everyone reloaded at least once, the armadillo huffed and fell over. Just in case, Vista reloaded the shotgun and every one else kept aim.

The armadillo, now laying on shredded cardboard and looking like Swiss cheese twitched one more time and then went limp.

Maw took a deep breath and put her pistol back in her purse. “Well…that was fun.” She reached for the other two weapons. “I’ll take these back to the kitchen an’ clean ‘em afore supper. Green beans ‘n’ cornbread sound good?”

“Sounds good ta me.” Brod said not taking his eyes off the body.

His grandmother nodded, opened the chamber to the shotgun and laid it over her shoulder as she trotted back toward the house, nine-millimeter dangling from her free hand.

“Mama, you be careful slicin’ the fatback. Don’t cut yerself.” Vista called to her. She turned to her son. “Want some help to spike it up in the garden?”

“Naw.” Brod said. “I’m gonna make sure it don’t have ninth life and then I’ll shove a couple a sticks in it.”

“Okay, call if ya need help.” She said. “Gimme the cartridges an’ I’ll put ‘em back in the truck.”

Brod handed her a few from his pocket, not taking his eyes off the dead armadillo. Vista walked back to the truck and slipped them back in the box on the truck seat. She’d just put the box back in the glove compartment when she saw a car turn in the lane and makes its way toward her.

She shook her head and she shut the truck door. “Hope someone ain’t called the law.” She took a quick step to the front porch, shielding her eyes in the sun to see if she could tell who the car belonged to.

It was a nice car, one she didn’t recognize. It came to a stop just on the other side of the truck. The driver’s door opened and a man got out and shut the door.

Vista leaned on the post by the porch steps. “Mac.”

The man heard her say his name and stopped in the dirt just before it turned to grass. “Vista Kay.”

“I heard you was comin’ back ta town.”

“I’m here earlier than I planned, but my brother passed away.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, I heard.” Vista put her hands behind her back and leaned heavily on the post. “How is poor Flourene holdin’ up?”

“You know, that woman.” He shook his head and drew in the dirt with his foot. “I changed my plans and came early. Figured maybe her and the kids could use my help.”

Vista smiled. “’Course they could. It’s not like you got a wife and son a your own you ain’t never seed.”

Mac balled his fists up. “Now Vista Kay…”

“His name is Broderick, Mac. I named him after yer Daddy and Ray fer mine. You wouldn’t know that cause ya packed yer backs and tuck off before they slapped his butt and he could cry out “Where’s my Daddy”.”

“Now I told you…” Mac shook off the red in his face. “I ain’t gonna say I’m sorry, Vista Kay. I know that’s what you wanna hear, but I ain’t gonna say it.”

“Don’t expect ya too, Mac.” Vista quietly said. “Didn’t expect ya ta even drop by.”

“I supported you and the boy.” He said. “You can’t say I didn’t.”

She smiled. “Oh yes. Yes ya did, Mac.” She stood up and walked to the other side of the porch post. “That check came right on the dot ever month, with a little raise ever year, too. That was exactly the kinda support he needed.”

She could tell Mac was squinting at her. Vista put an arm around the post. “That was the kinda support yer son needed when he broke his arm in the fifth grade. It was the kinda support when his Granddaddy died a few years ago, the only man he had in his life.”

Mac looked back down at the ground. Vista sighed.

“He’s a good boy, Mac. Be a senior this year. He’ll be a fine man, like I thought you was.”

He snapped his head back up. “I am a good man.”

"I used ta think so, but ya taught me so much differn't." Vista wasn’t angry she was just being honest. "I used to pine fer ya, Mac. I used ta dream about the day you’d come pulling back in that driveway in a shiny new car. Didn’t know how I’d feel, but I dreamed of the day. Now here it is.”

“How do you feel?” He dared ask.

Vista smiled and leaned her head on the post. “I don’t feel nothin’”. She looked at the man who used to be her husband standing in the dirt. “What’cha here for Mac?”

“Well…” Mac looked up into Vista’s face and tried to smile. “I thought…I thought maybe we could be friends.”

“Bein’ neighbors an’ all?”

He smiled and let out a deep breath. “Yes.”

“I’ll think about it.” Vista put her hands in her pockets and took a step toward the top step. “When I make up my mind. I’ll send you a letter…at the first a’ the month.”

“Mama?”

Vista and Mac both turned to see the boy standing at the end of the car by the truck.

Brod looked up at his mother. “Mama? Who’s this?”

Vista looked at the steps, then to her ex-husband and then to her son. “Broderick, honey, this is MacDonald Gene Moretz. He’s yer daddy.”

“My daddy?” Brod stared at his mother with a strange look, one that Vista had never seen and then to the man standing in the dirt.

“Yes, son.” Mac cleared his throat. “I’m your father.”

Mac put out his hand. Brod wiped the armadillo blood on his shirt and looked at him. He took a tentative step and stopped; first looking up at his mother and then back to the man who had his hand stretched towards him for a manly shake.

“Well, aren’t you going to say hello?” Mac asked.

Brod smiled. “Of course. Hello.” He took two steps toward Mac Moretz and hit him with a quick right hook. Mac Moretz fell to the ground in pain and surprise.

Brod stepped until he was towering over the man. “Ever come near my mama again, an’ I’ll kill you.”

Brod stuck his hands in his pockets and quietly walked up the porch steps to his mother. He kissed her on the cheek. “I’m gonna wash up fer supper.”

Vista patted her son on the shoulder. “Tell Mama, I’ll be right there.” He watched Brod disappear behind the screen door slam. She turned to look at her ex-husband still shocked on the ground.

“I’d invite in fer some supper, but you can see how that might be a li’l awkward.”

She turned around and walked into the house, the screen door echoing in the ears of the man on the ground wiping a trickle of blood from his split lip.

Episode #4: A Batch of Cookies

It hadn’t been a very good day for Vonda Kay. She’d sold a farm to her sister’s ex-husband and forgot to tell her. Her nephew, whom she’d raised as a son, was in jail for running her neighbor’s daughter over with a columbine and she needed groceries. It was a good thing she had some International Coffees and Valium left.

People had been trampsing in and out of her house all afternoon long. She could probably have handled that, but they’d been out in the field where they found the body in the hay bails so her clean carpet was now covered in mud, blood, straw and cow poop. She thought to write “Resolve” down on her grocery list.

Her twin sister, Vista, the one whose ex-husband was coming back to town, was laying down on one of her own twin’s bed. Vonda thought a moment. She just assumed Mac Moretz was her sister’s ex. She didn’t really know if they’d actually gotten a divorce or not. She did know for sure that Mac told Vista he didn’t want kids and took off the moment her water broke.

Other than the checks that came like clockwork, no one had heard from him since. Vonda could have just died when he called her out of the blue and offered her market value of the old Quisenberry place. She’d been trying to unload that monstrosity for two years. It wasn’t like she could say no. Not with the market the way it was. Well, she could have but she wasn’t stupid.

Vonda peeped out her kitchen curtains, the ones with the gold thread and the dancing chickens she’d special ordered. Those men with the rubber gloves and plastic bags were all still out there. She hoped they didn’t expect her to feed them. She’d already cooked everything in the house and sent it over to the neighbors. She certainly wasn’t going to run to Food Country to fix them dinner, even if it was triple coupon day.

As much as she tried, she couldn’t help but notice what a fine looking man that was giving all the other little men orders. Trey came running in, after he and Brod came back from the neighbors delivering the food, and said the barnyard and hay field looked just like an episode of “CSI” only redneck. It would be exciting if it weren’t for the fact that it was her nephew they were gathering evidence against, and that they didn’t seem to know how to wipe their feet.

Vonda’s mother appeared behind her and looked over her shoulder into the yard. “That man has the finest butt I’ve seed in a long time!”

“Mama!” Shocked, Vonda dropped the curtain and turned around the face her mother.

“What? Just cause I don’t use m’girl parts no more, don’t mean I don’t remember what made um work.” she said.

“You just scared me that’s all.” She reached for the Febreeze and started squirting the air. “With all the detective work goin’ on, you shouldn’t be sneakin’ up on a body.”

“You don’t fool me, Vonda Kay. You was a starin’ at that man, too.”

“I am a married woman, Mama, a happily married woman.”

“Honey, don’t make a difference where ya git ya appetite as long as ya eat at home.”

“Is Vista still laying down?” She changed the subject.

“You’d think after almos' eighteen years that man wouldn’t have such a hold on her.”

“Mama, he’s the father of her baby boy and then he just took off. Left her ta raise Brod all by her lonesome.Then suddenly he’s back in town. I hope Mac don’t think he can just pick right back up where he left off.” She put the Febreeze back on the windowsill where it belonged. “You don’t think she’ll take back up with him do ya?”

“Hard ta tell, Vonda Kay. I don’t reckon she ever got over ‘im. She ain't even looked at another man twice.”

“She dated that Vernell Hawthorne for a while.” Vonda reminded her mother.

“Honey, they went to plays together. That twernt no date. It was a girl’s night out.”

“Shame on you. Just because a man knows how to dress and likes the thee-ay-ter don’t mean he’s…you know.”

“Honey chil’, Vernell lives with the football coach and dresses up like Britney Spears ats a bar in Knoxville ever other Saturday. Follow that recipe and tell me it don’t make a batch a cookies!”

“Fine, ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Didn’t say they was.” The old woman leaned in close. “They’s one a them places in Johnson City ya know. Me an’ Dreama Holmes went in one time. Jus' ta see what it was like.”

“Mamma! You didn’t.”

“Sure did. Let me tell you, them queens know how to make a ol’ lady feel like a queen. Had s’much fun I’d go back agin, but Dreama won’t take me an’ I don’ like to drive after dark n’more.”

“Why won’t she take ya?”

“Aw, some little black boy thought she was one a them transgenders and she got mad. I tried to explain she was jus' ugly but Dreama refused ta prove it.” She pointed to two loaves of bread on the counter. “What’s this?”

“My apple bread.” Vonda shook her head. “Brod said the neighbors didn’t want it. Claim the last time they ate it it give ‘em diarrhea.”

“Knock! Knock!” Vonda and her mother turned to see Arzella Tater waltzing right into the kitchen uninvited. “My, my, Vonda Kay Shephard, all this fuss!”

“Arzella!” Maw smiled broadly. “Want some fresh baked apple bread?”

“Oh, no thank you, dear. I just dropped by to see if there was anything I could do for ya.”

Vonda smiled even broader. “You kin scrub the cow poop off m’ carpet.”

“I haven’t got that much time, dear.” Arzella whisked a finger across the kitchen counter, looked at the pad and scrunched up her nose. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry we all are.”

“Well, thank you, Miz Tater. I appreciate it.” Vonda smiled and was torn between reaching for a clean sponge and the baseball bat she kept under the sink.

Arzella prissed to the screen door and looked out at the man signing some papers on a clipboard in the driveway. “I just wanted to assure you that none of this is yer fault. Some people are jus’ born to be cold blooded serial killers and others ain’t.”

“Arzella Tater, Ronnie ain’t no serial killer!” Maw bellowed.

“Ruby Acres get yer head outta the milk bucket. Ronnie done kilt twice. You gotta admit there’s just a little bit of a personality flaw there.” Arzella lifted her nose,both faces and all three chins in the air.

“Did I march over ta yer house after Homecomin', an’ say I was sorry about yer girl’s personality flaws?” Maw took a mean step toward Arzella.

Arzella’s nostril’s flared and her back arched. “The football team was helpin’ Marcella write a paper on the proper placement of protective cups!”

“I bet!”

Arzella took a step toward Maw, her fists balled at her sides. “An’ I bet nobody liked that first guy Ronnie kilt!”

Maw smiled. “Marcella did. He had a real big protective cup!”

Vonda Kay stepped in the middle. “Ladies! The only way I know ta stop two cats a fightin’ is ta turn the hose on ‘em. As much as I’d like m’ carpets cleaned I suggest ya both back off.”

The women each took a step back. Vonda whipped her head to her mother. “Mamma go check on Vista.”

The old lady held her ground.

“Now!” Vonda bellowed. Maw dropped her head and headed down the hall. “Arzella, thank you for dropping by. I’ll be sure and send a thank you card.”

Arzella smoothed her skirt. “Always willin’ to be a shoulder ta those in need.”

“And please…” Vonda shoved the baked goods in her arms. “Take these to Ervel. I didn’t have any pie when he came by earlier, so I baked this apple bread just fer him.”

“Why that is so sweet.” The woman smiled as Vonda walked her to the door. “Wait, my Ervel was here?”

Vonda smiled as she shoved her on the porch and shut the screen door. “Why yes. Ervel pops by ever once an’ a while, just to say hello. Give him m’ love.” She leaned up against the door she quickly shut in the woman’s face.

She was still leaned against it counting to ten when there was another knock at the door. Vonda rolled her eyes and reached for the baseball bat.

“I’ll show Arzella Tater a serial killer.” She mumbled to herself swinging the bat to her shoulder and opening the door.

“Mrs. Shephard?” The good-looking man on the porch smiled.

“Uh…yes. May I help you?” She tried not to drool, happily married woman or not.

“I’m Detective Thatcher Tate, the state investigator assigned to your…nephew’s case.” He stepped aside and motioned to the goofy looking beanpole in uniform beside him. “You know Norvel Barton?”

“Yes, Norvel. How’s the wife and kids?” Vonda leaned nonchalantly against the door and thanked the Lord she was wearing a tight hoodie and then quickly for being a happily married woman.

“Oh Zelma’s in a mood. The kid’s is all got the bug an’ pukin all over the new linoleum we just put down in the bathroom. You should come over an’ see it sometime.” He sniffed and scratched his chin.

“I bet it’s nice.”

“Yeah, once there ain’t vomit on it, it’s real purdy.” He said.

“Mrs. Shephard…” the other man interrupted, “May we come in? I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Of course.” The door was probably making red marks on her back any way. “Why don’t we retire to the living room? I bet you could use a comfortable seat after spending all day on your feet.”

“That would be very nice.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

Vonda took his arm and lead him inside. When the screen door slammed she yelled over her shoulder. “You, too, Norvel.”

Detective Tate sat in the center of the sofa, as Vonda nonchalantly seated herself on the footstool her Aunt Fay had made from an orange crate and old car seats in front of him. Norvel Barton stood in the archway, hat in hand, fresh buzz cut making his eyes bug out more.

“What can I do for you, Detective?”

“First of all, I need to make clear exactly why the state has become involved it what seemed to be a very tragic accident.”

“Of course.”

“The John Deere people just want to be sure, and make clear that their equipment wasn’t at fault, so the state stepped in.”

Vonda couldn’t wipe the dumbfounded look off her face. “John Deere?”

“Them tractor people?” Norvel himself was shocked.

“My assumption is that with the economy the way it is, they want to make sure that everything is done properly with no poor reflection on their product.”

“Wh’that’s jes stupid.” Norvel couldn’t help but say. "I’d think this whole thing would be good fer um.”

“Norvel, how on earth could having someone chopped up by one of their columbines be a good thing?” Vonda put her hands under her boobs and shoved them up just a bit before silently thanking the Lord she was a happily married woman.

“Why that thang chopped that woman up jes as purdy as you please, and them bails was still all square and tight. Ever one of 'em jest the purdiest bails you ever seed even with fingers an' toes 'n' chucks a hair stickin' out.” He explained.

Vonda turned back to the Detective. “I truly understand now why it was takin’ so long to get this accident all cleared up.”

“Do not misunderstand.” Thatcher Tate shifted forward. “This has nothing to do with publicity, Mrs. Shephard. The company requested the state look into the case, because of what seemed to them to be miscalculations in the original investigation.”

“I don’t understand.” Vonda said, suddenly not sure the detective was so sexy after all. “What do you mean miscalculations?”

“That’s what I need to ask you about…” Tate tried to make sure Vonda understood. “…just to confirm our suspicions.”

“This was an accident.” Vonda pouted. “Ronnie said he didn’t realize that Myrtle was even in the field. You shoulda saw the look on his face when he come runnin’ back to the house.”

“Hold on, hold on…” Tate tried to calm her down. “Let’s start at the beginning. Ronnie came here to report the incident and you called the police?”

“Yes, sir, well I called that 911.” Vonda said.

“Let’s go back just a bit.” He said and Vonda nodded her head. “He went out to the hayfield in the morning and you didn’t see him until he came back telling you what happened, correct?”

“Well no, not at all.” Vonda said. “We had a early lunch, and he went out there about 11:30 worked about ninety minutes and we got that awful rainstorm.”

“Rainstorm?”

“Lawdy.” Norvel chimed in. “That was awful. I’d hafa mind to start gatherin some gopher wood and start a buildin’ on the ark, that was such a nasty storm.”

“Wasn’t it though?” Vonda agreed.

“Wait. He came back from the field during the rainstorm and then he went back out?”

“That’s right.” Vonda told him. “Ronnie come in soaked to the skin, and changed inta some dry clothes. It rained so hard it nearly knocked cable out twice while we was a watchin’ “Days of Our Lives”.

“I love that show. Zelma’s TiVos it fer me.”

“Ya’ll got the TiVo?” Vonda asked.

“Yes’m you should get one. It will change yer life.” Norvel took a step in. “Are you a EJAMI er a SAFE?”

“I go back ‘n’ forth, but ya know I think Elvis and that Hernandez girl would be a cute couple, don’t you?” Vonda asked Norvel.

Norvel sat down on the footstool beside Vonda. “I thought that’s what they was a leading up to, but I heard theys a killin’ her off.”

“No!”

“Truth! An’ I think Brady a pullin’ the switch on that ol’ Vivian is a hoot!”

“Excuse me,” Detective Thatcher cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt the editors of Soap Opera Digest, but could we get back to Ronnie and the hay field?”

“Oh…” Vonda turned red. “I’m sorry, it’s just our story is getting’ so good.”

“Ain’t it though?” Norvel nodded his head.

“For the record, it’s Samantha and E.J. all the way, but I need to know when Ronnie went into the hayfield the second time and how long he was there.” Tate insisted.

“Well…” Vonda thought a moment. “We watched ‘Days’ by the time E.J. told Stefano…”

Norvel put his hands over his ears. “Don’t tell me! I don’t git to watch it til the kids is in bed.”

“Sorry, Norvel.” Vonda leaned over. “But it’ll knock your socks off! Anyway, the storm had ended by the end of the show, so we turned off the TV and went outside to pick up sticks and stuff. That wind was somethin’ awful.”

“So Ronnie went back out to the hay field about two, two thirty?”

“Well of course not. The last thing you want to do is bail wet hay. We both walked out there about three and it was still soppy, but the sun was hot, so after Trey and the girls got home from school, Ronnie wondered out there to see if maybe it would be dry enough to finish up after dinner.”

“So you went out there about three?”

“Yes, sir, around that time.”

“And you didn’t notice anything?”

“Not at all. Just looked like a tractor, a few bails and wet alfalfa ta me.” Vonda said.

“He left the tractor out there?” Tate made a note in his notebook. “He didn’t bring it in when the rain started and then take it back out?”

“’Course not Mr. Tate. Ronnie heard that first clap a thunder and high tailed his behind to the house.”

“So he went out to the field alone about…?”

“I’d say four thirty, maybe closer to five.”

“And how many hours was he out there before he came to the house and you called 911?”

“Not hours, detective, minutes. He wasn’t gone more’n five minutes, just as long as it took to walk out there and run screamin’ back at the top of his lungs.”

Detective Tate closed his notebook and stood. “Mrs. Shephard. I thank you for your time. I will need you to come to the station and sign a statement.”

“Sign a statement?” Vonda stood and asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What for?”

“Mrs. Shephard, you confirmed what the state has believed from the beginning, this wasn’t a tragic accident.”

“It had to be” Vonda insisted.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Shephard. This was definitely a murder.”

Episode #3: Fluerene's Letter to the World

My husband is dead, and quite frankly, I couldn’t be happier. The thought of having to waste my golden years with that man was almost more than I could bear. Fortunately, I got the call telling me about Harmon and I’ve been dancing a little jig ever since, but only on the inside.

One has to keep up appearances, you know. As far as anyone else knows, I am the distraught Fleurene Moretz, the beautiful, still young and now woeful widow woman. My eyes are perfectly red and puffy. I break down in silent distress at just the right moment for comfort, and I am wearing a snazzy little black number I bought at Smithy’s and saved for just the right occasion.

Harmon’s life may be over, but mine is now damn near perfect. Shoot, I don’t even know what he died of, but I’ve been hinting to everyone that it was the cancer. That sounds good, and gives people the notion that we both suffered in silence for a long while.

Hopefully, some of the local churches and charity organizations will take up some collections to help this poor woman to cover the ungodly hospital bills and keep her and her poor children from being tossed out on the street. I may not even paint the porch this year, just to make the neighbors think we’ve fallen on hard times.

The hard times is over, honey. Now don’t get me wrong, Harmon was a good provider and lived up to the bargain right up to his dying day, whatever day that was. We never loved each other, but we made a deal and got married. I had decided that it was time for me to wed, and he wanted to stay out of the army so it was a match made in, well, Forge Creek.

That’s where we live, born and raised in on the Forge, a pretty little mountain town in East Tennessee. We used to be part of Virginia, but then got included in that proposed state of Franklin that never got ratified. I don’t remember just why, but even in death Ben Franklin must have really pissed someone off, because one still mad as a wet hornet senator said “No” and that was all it took for the land to be split back up, but this time we got gived to Tennessee.

They say that that’s why this area is so different from the rest of the state, cause we never really belonged to begin with. It’s all fine by me. It happened way before I was born, and it gives me something interesting to talk about that sounds intelligent over tea.

Intelligence and style, that’s my calling in life, anybody who wants to know how to do anything proper knows that I am the expert. Arzella Tater can think she’s the one all she wants, but just cause she has the fanciest house in the county don’t mean squat.

And it’s not that my house ain’t fancy mind you; it just ain’t as big as the one that uppity witch lives in. In fact, I think its fancier and I don’t lock my kids out of the house and make ‘em pee in the bushes like she does. (Of course, you didn’t hear that from me!)

My children are all well mannered, well behaved and all have fancy names like me. My name is Fleurene, born Pelletier. It’s French, so it’s pronounced Flurr—een Pell—teer. I am constantly having to correct the inbreds around here on how to pronounce it. They all want to call me Floor-een, and that’s just disgusting. It makes me sound like I’d give ya healthy gums or something.

Harmon was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen, and I never once had to correct him on how to say my name. He was the perfect match in almost every way. I told him, all I wanted was a husband, a nice house and lots of kids. I didn’t even care if he was faithful, as long as I didn’t find out about it; cause then I’d have to kill him. He gave me everything I wanted and more. Yes indeed he was a fine husband and I praise God Almighty that he’s finally dead.

It was just fortunate for me that the Lord has always looked out for me. As a young girl I fell head over tails in love with Wilbur Joe Farmer, and he with me. Wilbur Joe was nothing like Harmon at all, although they was best friends. Harmon was beautiful and smart. Wilbur Joe was a half wit and butt ugly, and I don’t know why but I loved him so much it still hurts to this day.

Wilbur Joe and I was all set to get married just as soon as he finished basic training. I was busy planning my dream wedding, knowing the whole time we’d end up being penniless tobacco farmers, but I didn’t care. I was having the perfect wedding to the man I loved.

Fortunately God stepped in and on Wilbur Joe’s first day of boot camp. He tripped in the bathroom and drowned face down in a US Military toilet. I told you he was stupid!

Of course, I was nearly destroyed but like the strong woman I am just focused on what was important in life and carried on. I had the wedding all planned. I just needed the groom. At the funeral, Harmon was blubbering away about how he was scarred to go in the Army. That’s when God stepped in and showed me the light.

Five months later, my Daddy was escorting me down the aisle of Hammons Chapel Christian Church as planned, with only two different details. I was saying “I do” to Harmon, and I was wearing a much nicer gown, thanks to the insurance policy that Wilbur Joe had been bright enough to leave me and his fat cow of a mamma didn’t dare protest.

It wasn’t long after we married that Harmon got a really good paying job somewhere out of town. He wanted to move, but I refused. I was born on Forge Creek for a reason and I wasn’t leaving.

Harmon took the job anyways; built me a nice house on Meemaw’s old farm and spent most of his time doing whatever he did that brought me such good money. I think it had something to do with trucking, but I figured as long as them fat paychecks came in regular and didn’t bounce it wasn’t none of my business.

Harmon would come home for a couple of weeks every couple of months, always with a nice gift and hung around long enough to get me pregnant. It was a husband’s job.
Obviously, I didn’t care much for him, but I did love the life he provided and the fact that he left me alone to live it the way I wanted.

My oldest got the best of both of us. Harmon Sinclair, Jr. has his father’s looks and my class and intelligence. I called him Sinclair, because it sounded so nice and exotic. Mamma insisted on calling him “Junie” when he was born and I just hated it. I started back handing her every time she did it, so she soon got the hint and stopped. Sinclair it was, is and always will be.

I’d love to say that all my kids are beautiful, but I am a totally honest woman. The simple truth is the more I turned out, the plainer they got right down to my youngest. Actually my youngest are a set of twins, a boy and a girl. I named him Abingdon, after the nice little town in Virginia where Harmon took me to a real live professional theatre with dinner across the street at the Martha Washington Inn.

The girl I named Modene, after a company I read on something somewhere. I can’t remember what it was, but when I read it I just knew it was the perfect strong name for a perfect strong little girl. Modene did come out last, so I always call her my youngest.

What Sinclair is to beauty, poor sweet Modene is not. I swear I look at her sometimes and think that I didn’t really have twins at all, that she’s just the afterbirth that lived. Of course, I would never tell her that.

As far as she knows she is the most darling young lady in the world. Notice how I use the word darling and not beautiful? Remember I am a woman of truth, and she is darling, just nothing even remotely close to attractive. Shoot I had an albino Chihuahua as a child with a better complexion than Modene.

But she’s sweet and adorable and just dotes on me something awful. She has been so concerned for me these last few days, so concerned that I might, oh I don’t know, throw myself onto Harmon’s burning body like one of them Indian women. I’m sorry, but that’s just stupid.

Jimmy Dean said die young and leave a good lookin’ corpse. He is so right, that Jimmy Dean. How on earth are you supposed to be a good lookin’ corpse with singed hair? Gracious!

Of course, as far as Modene and all my kids is concerned I am the distraught widow woman with nothing left to live for. My Harmon did die young and will be a darn great looking corpse. He also left behind a heck of a lot of cash that’s all mine and I will moan and wail like I’m in a Lifetime movie until the day that will goes probate. Then I am kicking up my heels and really living.

Until then, I am mustering all my acting ability and being “courageous and strong” for my kids. I ran around the house all morning making sure they was ready to go to the funeral. Obviously, I was too upset (tee hee) to handle it and Sinclair took care of everything.

All I have to do is round up my brood, stuff ‘em in the limo and head to Tester’s Funeral Home, at least that’s where we better be heading. I did let Sinclair know that if he even dared to bury his father at that other place in town, whom I can’t even let cross my lips, we’d be burying him next in a couple of Ziplock snack bags.

I even thought about cooking this morning. I haven’t done that in years. As soon as the twins started at the high school I stopped. I made a general announcement that if it couldn’t be micro waved or delivered it wasn’t being eaten at my house anymore.

To make my point, I took the heating elements out of the oven and keep my sweaters there. I even got some of them stove eye covers down at Iron Mountain Stoneware and super glued them in place. Besides, I figure people will be bringing by casseroles and turkeys for awhile anyway, and Sinclair is having the wake catered.

I do hesitate to let Modene be seen in public today. Her plain, fat little face is so puffy and red you’d think God smacked her around with her tears. Her eyes are almost bruised from crying.

Poor thing, she is so emotional and I’m sure she didn’t care for her daddy much. He was around so rarely. Once when she was six and Harmon was home for breakfast she turned to me and said, “Mommy, who’s that man?”

I was afraid for a minute that would guilt Harmon in to coming home more often. Fortunately it didn’t faze him. I lived in fear that whole week.

I tried so hard to get her to wear some make up or something, but she refused. She said she didn’t want to waste plastering on something that was just gonna get cried off. I guess she’s right. She looks scary enough without having black streaks smeared all over those swollen hamster cheeks.

I did at least get her to wear a little jewelry, told her that Harmon always thought she looked so nice in jewelry. I picked out the gaudiest stuff I could find for her and told her they were his favorites. I actually am just hoping it will distract people’s eyes from her face.

The boys, of course, all look so dapper. My boys know how to dress. The girls, now that’s another story. Except for Diana Jean, my girls wouldn’t know a designer dress from a burlap sack. Scarlet is still into that all black Goth stuff, which does kind of make her wardrobe today a little easier and Ruby tries to stuff a little too much into too little. We’ve already discussed Modene.

Then again, at least the older three have figures; Modene is a senior in high school and is still waiting on a visit from the boob fairy. Actually, I think Ruby may have gotten Modene’s helping. I swear I thought about buying that child her first bra before she was potty trained. She was practically birthed a C cup!

Ruby’s my Miss America. She was first runner up in the Miss Johnson County Pageant two years in a row, I’m not sure how that happens but you can bet it wasn’t pretty. And you can bet it won’t happen again. She’s done with those cheesy third rate pageants. It’s on to Miss Lonesome Pine and Miss Watauga Valley from here on out.

Now Diana Jean, along with her inheriting her mama’s flair for fashion, is the smart one in the family. I think she’ll make a doctor or something pretty, you can stake good money on that.

And Miss Scarlet, as soon as she gets through this depressed and angry phase, she’ll make a good wife. After all, wives and mothers don’t have to be chipper, just organized, and that she is.

My boys are my pride and joy. I never really cared too much for girls, so I admit there is a special place in my heart for each one of my sons. As I’ve said Sinclair has both beauty and brains and the world is his for the taking. If I play my cards right, I’ve got a built in ticket to more money and an even better life.

He’s finished up with college now, graduated with honors from somewhere and has a degree in something impressive. I was a little disappointed when he told me he was gonna go off and work with his daddy for a while, but I guess first sons just expect that they are expected to follow in the family business. So as long as he provides for me, whatever is just fine.

Dear sweet Abingdon, is just a precious little idiot, all football and tractors. I expect he’ll be plowing up some of the old farmland around the house and letting cows poop in the backyard before too long. But it will give him something to do, and as long as he takes his boots off before he comes in the house I won’t complain.

I’m a little surprised that I have a card carrying member of the FFA in my brood, but I guess there are worse future “F’s” than farmers. Now don’t get me wrong. Farmers are people, too. Some of my best acquaintances are farmers. I just never imagined that agriculture would ever be more than a conversation around my dinner table. Oh well, I reckon as long as Abingdon, doesn’t go as far as to let dead animals drip out in the old smoke house and expect me to cook ‘em, I’ll make do.

Then again, if I’m lucky, like Scarlet’s Goth mood, Bing’s desire for dirty fingernails is just a phase. I secretly hope that he’s just doing it long enough to make Arzella Tater’s boys that he tends to pal around with all get into farming while secretly prepares for Congress. Now wouldn’t that be a hoot.

Of course, I got two more boys; Silas and Joe Cooper, eighteen months apart and like two peas in a very odd pod. Silas is tall and looks like that man who used to be Dr. Gannon on “Medical Center”. Joe Cooper on the other hand is short, beefy and looks like somebody’s sidekick.

They seem to share one personality. It’s kind of scary. If the other one ain’t in the room there just seems to be this vacuum to the right or left of them. They even went to the same college and all they talk about is opening a practice together. I’m not sure what they plan to practice together, but they are good boys so I’m sure it won’t be anything harmful, or earth shaking for that matter.

Oh there, I go, boasting about my wonderful kids and completely off the subject. What was I talking about to begin with? Do you remember and was it that all fired important? It was something to do with the color black and the color of money.

Oh yes, my husband is dead and I’ve got to get all these kids stuffed in a limo and down to the funeral home! I’d better watch my p’s and q’s or someone’s gonna figure out just how down right happy I am about the whole situation.