Joyce McDonald Hoskins

     Everything had changed. Everything. Thomas Wolfe was right when he said, “You can’t go home again.” Especially when they tear up the dang road. Marny drove the rental car off the highway so she could stop and think. She turned the ignition off and manually rolled down the windows. “Piece of rent-a-junk if you ask me,” she mumbled, as she lit a cigarette. She had promised all of her friends she would quit as soon as she got back to Nashville. It was an excuse, but she meant it. She knew she would do it. She always kept her commitments. Always.

     The elderly lady on the Greyhound Bus had told her Gram’s house hadn’t been torn down yet. She had neglected to mention the road was gone. Marny exhaled and chuckled a bit to herself. Imagine, Marny Newhouse riding a Greyhound. She had been determined to come back to Coolwater the same way she had left. The trips were ten years apart, but equally miserable. She would fly back to Nashville, for sure, but she had to admit the ride hadn’t been all bad. Sitting with Mrs. Parker, had passed the time. The prim and proper lady reminded her of Gram. She never suggested Marny call her by her first name, and didn’t even offer it when she introduced herself.

     Marny smiled as she remembered the introduction. “Hey, you’re that local who got to sing at the Grand Ole Opry House. I recognized you from the picture that was in the paper. I met your grandmother at a church social not long before she passed on—right nice lady.” Other than asking if she had met Lorette Lynn, she didn’t dwell on Marny’s career, but moved quickly to showing pictures of her new grandson.

     Putting the half-smoked cigarette out in the ashtray, her mind wondered back to her childhood, as she tried to get her bearings. Okay girl, which way is home? She could hear her daddy’s voice as he taught her what he had thought was one of life’s most important lessons: How to find your way home. She looked at the sun that was beginning to move toward the western sky. Meadowbrook stream meandered to the north. Gram’s had to be due east. Marny started the car and headed across the newly cleared land. She held back tears as pictures flashed though her mind like slides on a projector screen. Daddy in his Sunday suit holding her hand as they walked to Church. Daddy in his overalls teaching her to ride a pony. Daddy in his long sleeve white shirt as he went off to teach shop at the local junior high school. “Stop it,” she spoke out loud and shook her head. Pay attention to your driving.

      Thankfully, it hadn’t rained in a while. She could get hung-up, but it wasn’t very likely, and Marny had always been single-minded. She had come to see her childhood home one last time, and see it she would.

     After a few minutes passed, the house came into view. The swing was still attached to the side porch. It only hung by one chain now, but she was glad it was still there. Heavy equipment was in the front yard. The workers were taking a break, lounging under the crab-apple tree. Nostalgic feelings washed over Marny. This was her heritage—a simple childhood—safe and secure. If she didn’t dwell on the early deaths of her parents, it was a happy childhood. She had no recollection of Mama. Sometimes she thought she might have a vague memory of her voice, but then she had been told all her life that she had her mama’s voice. Once, at a young age, she had asked Daddy why Mama hadn’t taken her voice to Heaven with her. Gram had thought the story so cute she retold it at every opportunity until the day she died. Gram always told her that her voice was a gift and she should sing for God’s glory.

     Marny knew she wasn’t using her voice for God’s glory, but she was always careful to end every performance with a gospel song. One of her backup singers called it hedging her bets. She didn’t go to church anymore, but she still believed. She wasn’t as strong in her beliefs as she had been when she lived with Gram. When Gram prayed, you were sure you could reach out your hand and touch Him. 

     Marny took out her camera. A part of her wanted the pictures and a part of her didn’t. She had been born in that house. First Mama, then Daddy, then Gram had been laid out in the front room. They were old-time people and did things the old-fashioned way. She took some pictures and then walked over to the workmen.

     “Hi, guys.”

     Some nodded. Some said hi. She thought she heard a couple of them say, Howdy Ma’am.

     If this were a movie my true love from high school would be under the tree, but there are no high school sweethearts in my past. Having a pretty voice didn’t make up for being mud-ugly.

     Marny wasn’t mud-ugly anymore. Every time she looked in the mirror she was amazed at what some dental work and nose surgery had done. The blond highlights in her auburn hair brought out the gold flecks in her green eyes, and Marny was now beautiful. Actually, she was more than beautiful. She was gorgeous.

     Walking around to the back, she could feel the workers eyes on her back. She never got used to it, and when she was honest with herself, she admitted she didn’t like it. Seems like being pretty is turning out to be as difficult as being ugly.

     She took her pictures, paused for a few minutes over the little patch her daddy had marked off with a row of bricks. All  her childhood pets were buried there. Tears came to her eyes when she realized they would be under the interstate in a few months. Times change and you have to change with them. No sense in crying over childhood pets. She took a picture and started back to the car.

     She nodded at the workers as she passed by the tree. One asked for her autograph. He said it was for his wife. It probably is for his wife, and I’ll wager he’s a newlywed. Only a newlywed would show up on a construction site with hand-drawn happy faces and hearts on his paper napkin. She signed the napkin and gave the men a smile and a wave as she left.

     Relieved that the men respected her privacy, she got in the car and drove back to the highway. What am I going to do with the money? I don’t need it. I don’t want it.

     The government had paid good money for the property. More money than Gram or Daddy had ever seen. What should I do? What would Gram say?

     She drove on, deep in thought, after a time she smiled. She could hear Gram. Well, now honey, I don’t have any need for money up here. You take it on over to the church. They’ll put it to good use.

     The Methodist Church on Market Street hadn’t changed. “Wayside United Methodist” was still over the door, and you could still tell the United had been squeezed in without redoing all of the lettering. Gram had been against it. Dead set against it, but once it was done she never mentioned it again.  The United Methodist and the United Brethren merged and Gram welcomed the new members with open arms That’s how Gram was.

     The year after the merger took place Marny graduated from high school with the class of 1969. Gram did her best to talk her into going to college and teaching school. Marny insisted on giving Nashville a try, and when Gram saw she couldn’t win, she never mentioned it again.

     Marny entered the office and came face to face with a minister she had never seen before. Still no secretary. Still no receptionist. Just volunteers who make their own hours.

     “Hi Marny.”

     Hi Marny? You’d think he would introduce himself.

     “Missed you at the reunion. Everyone was hoping you would come.”

     Marny studied his face. Reunion? He wasn’t in my class. I’d remember a good looking guy like him. I’d remember anybody from my graduating class. It was small and we all had known each other forever. The ten years since high school couldn’t have changed him that much.

     “You don’t remember me?”

     “I . . .”

     His blue eyes twinkled as he teased her. “I guess it’s easy to forget the home folks when you’re a big star.”

     Marny blushed. She didn’t like to be teased. Especially about her success. “Reverend . . . ?”

     He didn’t supply the last name.

     Marny was getting angry. She opened her purse and took out her pack of cigarettes, but remembered where she was, and tried to put it back fast. In her haste to return the pack to her purse she dropped it.

     The preacher bent and picked it up for her.

     She hesitated a moment before she took them from him. Now’s as good as time as any to give them up. Marny took the pack and threw it in a wastepaper basket by the door.

     “Don’t do that on my account. It’s not necessary.”

     “I was going to quit when those were gone anyhow. They’re gone.” Marny studied his face again. “Okay, I give up. I don’t much feel like playing guessing games. Who are you?”

     “Be a good sport. Let’s play a little longer. Try putting fifty pounds on my body, and adding glasses with coke bottle lenses.”

     “Robby? Robby Benson? Oh my goodness.” She threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. “You look great!” She stepped back and looked at him again. “The crew-cut is gone, and . . . wow, you have really changed.”

     “You too, Marny.”

     “Not inside. Sometimes I have a problem with it.” Now why did I blurt that out?

     Robby sat down on the edge of his desk and motioned for Marny to take a chair. “You mean you’re always asking yourself if a man is really interested in you, and wondering if he would have been interested in you if you still looked like you did in high school?”

     “Yes, that’s it exactly. They teach you preacher boys pretty good.”

     “We’re not in high school anymore. The prom queen is not a recording artist, Marny. She works over at the dry cleaners. The captain of the football team left her with four kids to support.”

     “And what about the water boy?”

     “He’s standing here talking to the girl that used to go with her Grandmother to sing at the nursing home on Sunday afternoons.” He gave Marny a smile. “Would you like to go to lunch?”

     Marny was silent for a few moments. “You wouldn’t have asked me out in high school.”

“No, I wouldn’t have asked anyone out, and today is the first time you ever hugged me. I knew no one wanted to go out with me. I lost weight, and got contact lenses. I look better. You had caps put on your teeth, and your nose straightened and you look spectacular.”

     “Spectacular?”

     “Yes. Perhaps we should go to lunch and discuss whatever it was you came in here to talk about.”

     “Perhaps we should.”

     The diner was still simply called, The Diner. It hadn’t changed. Not one bit. The old coke machine on the porch still had the 6.5 ounce bottles-no diet coke, no cherry coke, and no other brand. Only the price had changed.

     As Robby opened the screen door so Marny could walk in, Mrs. Peterson came running and swept her into her arms. “Marny, Marny, I saw you coming down the street. I told the mister the other day, you’d forgotten your upbringing, and forsaken us all.” She released Marny and stepped back to look her over. “Ya sure look pretty, gal, your folks would be right proud.”

     “Thank you, ma’am.” Feeling uncomfortable, Marny took Robby’s arm and pulled him toward a booth and sat down. Glancing at the juke box she blushed when she saw how many of the selections were hers.

     “Everyone’s proud of you here, Marny.” Robby pick up the menus and handed her one.

     Mrs. Peterson appeared again at that moment. “We surely are.” She smiled and looked at Robby. “We’re proud of you too, Robby. That was good preachin’, you did last Sunday.” She stuck her pencil behind her ear and put her order pad in her apron pocket. Chicken‘n dumplings, fried green tomatoes, and sweet potato pie is today’s special-on the house.”

     It was more than Marny wanted but she didn’t want to offend so she smiled and nodded.

     “Sweet tea, okay?”

     “Yes, ma’am.” She said to Mrs. Peterson’s back.

     “Makes you feel about eight, huh?” Robby laughed. “But rather nice, too.”

     Marny nodded and opened her purse. “The government paid me for Gram’s place. I think she’d want the church to have the money.”

     “What about you? Would you like the church to have the money?”

     Marny wasn’t sure why the question made her angry. “Well, of course.” She handed the check to Robby.

     Robby made a low whistling sound. “That’s a lot of money.”

     “More than it was worth, but it still hurts to let it go.” Marny laughed. “The property, not the check.”

     Robby smiled. “I knew what you meant.” He looked at the check and thought about how long they had been raising funds to have the church painted. “Would you come to church Sunday and present the check to the board of directors?”

     Marny looked down. She was saved from answering by Mrs. Peterson’s return with the tea. “Gonna sing in church Sunday, Marny?”

     “I . . . I have to leave . . . I only have . . . the day.” Marny fumbled around trying to make excuses.

     “That’s a shame. I was hoping you might sing Amazing Grace for Mr. Peterson. He doesn’t have long, you know?”

     Marny turned a bright red. “No, no, I didn’t know.”

     “Cancer.”

     “I’m sorry.”

     “Thanks, hon. I’ll get your rolls now.”

     She shuffled off, and Marny realized, for the first time, how much she had aged.

     Robby fixed his eyes on her face. “Do you really have to leave so soon?”

     Marny sighed. “No.”

     “Why don’t you stay? Present the check in honor of your grandmother. Sing for Mr. Peterson, and go to dinner and a movie with me Saturday night.”

     “Did you just ask me out on a date?”

     Robby reach across the booth and touched her hand with two fingers. “I’ve wanted to ask you out since we were teenagers. For over three months, during our senior year, I tried to get up the nerve to ask you to go to the prom.”

     “Are you serious?”

     Robby rubbed his fingers across her hand. “Would a minister lie?”

     “Why didn’t you?”

     “I was painfully shy.”

     Marny leaned forward. “You are so confident now. I’m still painfully shy. The only time I’m at ease is when I’m singing.”

     “Then how did you do it? How did you break into music?”

     “My daddy told me I could sing the stars down from heaven, and I believed him. Gram gave me the money she had saved to send me to college, and I went to Nashville. Being too shy to walk into any of the recording studios, I made demos and sent them out. I never got even one response. I didn’t want to sing in clubs because I had promised Gram I wouldn’t, but when the money started running out, I broke my promise. One weekend, I went to an amateur night at a club and sang.  The club offered me a job, and I took it. After a few months I was, as they say in the business, discovered.” Marny looked at the wall to hide the tears in her eyes.

     Mrs. Peterson arrived, discretely placed their plates on the table, and quickly retreated to the kitchen.

     “So you feel guilty about the broken promise, and that’s why you are uncomfortable in your hometown?”

     Marny wiped the tears with her napkin. “I never thought about it like that.”

     “She was a forgiving woman.”

     “Yes, she was, but I never asked her, and it’s too late now.”

     “Have you asked God to forgive you? He specializes in it.”

     “I’ve felt sorrow, and remorse, but I’ve not asked Him to forgive me.”

     “Perhaps you should.”

     “Perhaps.” Marny picked up her fork and began eating.

     They were quiet for a time, only the ticking of the big regulator clock on the wall, and the soft clicking of silverware, could be heard. The other patrons had finished their lunches and they were alone. Mrs. Peterson peeped out of the kitchen door a couple of times, but left them to themselves.

     “How did you conquer your shyness?” Marny asked.

     “I started jogging, and lost weight my first year in college. When I came home for the holidays, I looked in our college yearbook and realized I wasn’t actually much different than the other students. We graduated with a small class of students, and only about four of them were what would be considered attractive.

     “You look doubtful, Marny. Don’t you see it was us, not them? I wasn’t the only overweight boy, and you weren’t the only girl who would have benefitted from having braces on her teeth. This is small town, USA. Our parents didn’t have our teeth straightened, or put money into contact lenses. They did well to feed and educate us.”

     “You’ve given me a different perspective about things.”

     “Like you said, ‘they teach us preacher boys good.’” He put his fork down and reached out to touch her hand again. “How about it? Stay a while. Sing in church, see if you think I can actually preach, and make the Petersons happy.”

     Marny smiled the first truly genuine smile Robby had seen on her face. “You won’t make me go to the altar and rededicate my life will you?”

     “I won’t. God might. I’ve certainly never made anyone go to the altar.” Robby studied Marny’s face. “Actually, I think you might already have things right in your heart.”

     “And the dinner date? Is that still an option?”

     “Dinner, a movie, and all the other corny small town stuff like ice cream, and front porch rocking.”

     Mrs. Peterson came and served the sweet potato pie.

     “Thank you, everything was as delicious as I remember.  I have decided I should sing for my supper. You can tell Mr. Peterson I will sing for him Sunday.”

     Mrs. Peterson patted Marny’s hand. “God bless, dear.” She picked up the dinner plates. “You kids make a nice looking couple.”

     Robby and Marny waited until Mrs. Peterson was in the kitchen to laugh.

     “You know dinner, a movie, ice cream and porch rocking is a lot to get in on one date. Are you busy Friday night?” Robby asked.

     “I’m free Friday night. Tonight, too. And I do love ice cream.”