Madness In Maggody

Ruby Bee tilted her head and put her finger on her cheek. "Now let me think…isn't Martin going on twelve and Lissie just about eleven? One going into sixth, the other fifth?"

"Martin had a birthday last week. He's twelve, and yeah, Lissie's almost eleven. You got a real fine memory, Ruby Bee."

"Thank you kindly, Buzz. I ran into Lissie's teacher at a church potluck awhile ago, and she mentioned being concerned about Lissie. I hope she's doing better these days?"

He gave her a wry grin. "She was out in left field there for a few months, trying to take A

"Left field?" Ruby Bee said brightly. "Fu

Estelle made a check next to the Mexican boy's name, polished off the cherry limeade, and drove over to the Pot O' Gold mobile-home park. She rattled across the cattle guard under the arch, wound through the metal boxes, and parked in a scanty patch of shade under a sickly elm.

Ten minutes later, there was a check next to Earl Boy Nookim's name and she was on her way to Elsie McMay's, where she could expect a glass of iced tea, a homemade cookie, two more players of the grandchild persuasion, and a nice chat in front of the fan.

3

The pigeons at Piazza San Marco. The glass of Campari and soda beneath a gaily colored umbrella. The day at the Lido. The night Riccardo poled us through the canals, crooning so softly that only I could hear him. After the frivolous lapse in Rome, I'd had to get back on the budget, but on page 127, I'd found a small pensione with a view of the Grand Canal.

However, now it was time to leave the pasta marinara, the strawwrapped jugs of dark red chianti, the sleek green bottles of mineral water (I was being quite careful not to succumb to any unspeakable maladies that might ruin my tour), the golden glow of Tuscany, and the verdant foothills of the Alps.

I consulted the table of contents and flipped to page 311. Yes, the sun-drenched beaches of the French Riviera were calling me. The glitter of the casino, the yachts, the furs and diamonds. Monte Carlo, where the rich mingled with the commoners and anything was possible.

"You'd just have to think anything's possible these days," Mrs. Jim Bob opined loudly. "Why, the next thing we know, women'll be wearing pants to church and little children will be ru

Brother Verber looked up with a guilty twitch. "You know I always agree with you, Sister Barbara. You are the beacon of my flock, the light that shines so pure and bright, it makes the si

Mrs. Jim Bob smiled tightly, because, of course, it was all true, what he'd said, but she was keenly aware of the sin of pride-among others-and wasn't about to allow herself to be led astray. "Girls playing with boys! It's a scandal to even think about it."

The images that flashed across Brother Verber's mind had to do with girls playing with boys, but he figured that wasn't at all what she was thinking of, and he whipped out his handkerchief to wipe away the sudden sweat.

"I felt it my Christian duty to have a word with Joyce Lambertino," Mrs. Jim Bob continued, oblivious to his discomfort. "I marched myself up to the door, fully expecting to be invited in for a nice visit, but Joyce wouldn't even let me inside the house. She said the kitchen floor was slippery. I knew better than that, Brother Verber. Better than that."

"You did?"

"I wasn't born this morning. From the way she was blocking the doorway, it was as plain as the nose on your face-which you might want to tend to, by the way-that her house was a mess and she was embarrassed to let me see how slovenly she was. I have always had my doubts about her, what with her wearing her hair like a high-school girl."

Brother Verber tut-tutted, peeked at his watch, and wondered exactly why he was sitting on the newly re-covered divan in Sister Barbara's front room when he could be using the time more profitably. When he'd arrived, he'd hoped for a slice of chocolate layer cake or a warm, fresh cookie, but she hadn't even offered iced tea. He cleared his throat, trying to sound a mite dry, and said, "I'm real glad to hear how you tried to steer Joyce back onto the path of righteousness. Would you mind repeating one more time how she was stumbling into sin?"

Mrs. Jim Bob's nostrils flared, but not so much that you'd notice unless you were watching real close. "Joyce's husband is coaching the baseball team my Jim Bob organized. She wanted her little niece Saralee to play with the boys. I happened to overhear Jim Bob and Larry Joe discussing it, and I felt it my duty to make it clear that we are not going to have that sort of thing here in Maggody. Some folks have been flirting with sin ever since that wicked, wicked lawyer woman came here awhile back and told wives they could stop fixing biscuits from scratch and start wearing the pants in the family. The next thing you know, we were neck deep in murder and destruction and the erosion of our Christian values."

"Let us get down on our knees and pray," Brother Verber cut in smoothly. "Just recalling that unpleasantness has opened the door a crack for Satan to sneak in. Ah, could I wet my whistle before we begin?"

"In a minute." She waited while Brother Verber, who was sliding down the edge of the divan, caught himself and got settled back where he belonged. "There is something else I have to tell you about so you can put a stop to it. Edwina Spitz happened to mention that a few weeks ago she was taking her evening stroll down Finger Lane and halted out by the hydrangeas in front of Eilene and Earl's house to catch her breath."

From the intensity of her stare, Brother Verber was aware that some response was required of him. He tugged on his nose for a minute. "I am most glad to hear Edwina's enjoying good health," he hazarded.

"That is not the issue, Brother Verber. I am going to have to describe a very lurid scene now, and I'd like to think you're clear in your mind that I'm only repeating what Edwina told me, and that she was only repeating what she accidentally overheard from behind the hydrangeas."

"It's clear as spring water," he assured her promptly, sitting up straight and preparing his handkerchief. "It's your Christian duty to repeat this to me. No matter how difficult it is, don't try to spare me by skipping anything, Sister Barbara. Not one tiny thing." Mrs. Jim Bob related the shameful story of Kevin Buchanon and Dahlia O'Neill's disrespectable encounter on the porch swing. Rather than skip anything, she may have embellished it so that he could appreciate just how terrible and depraved and lustful and truly sinful it was.

And he did. She finally took pity on his bright red face and heaving shoulders and went to get him some mint iced tea. When she came back, he'd mopped away most of the sweat and his eyes looked a little less glassy.