Charlotte Figg Takes Over Paradise (20 page)

I
really can't remember or explain where the idea for the barbecue came from the next day. I thought of it when I pulled a package of chicken breasts out of the freezer to thaw. This after a restless night pondering Suzy Wrinkel and why I felt so responsible for her.

It was like a spontaneous combustion that ignited wildfire inside of me. I dropped the chicken on the counter, Lucky barked twice. "They do look good, don't they? Back home I would toss them on the grill with some . . . "

And that was when it struck. "Lucky, a barbecue. Why not? We can get everyone together for a giant Paradise barbecue to kick off the softball season. Kind of a pep rally. I bet Paradise never ever had a pep rally."

I got so excited about the idea that I immediately started to go door-to-door, even though it was only eight o'clock in the morning, recruiting folks to come.

Most were receptive, especially now that the men knew we were playing against their boss's team and wanted to beat the snot out of them. Carl Kaninsky, on the other hand, thought I was nuts. "A barbecue? The whole park? You're crazy, lady." He shut the door in my face. But I was undaunted and kept going, trailer-to-trailer, convincing folks to join in.

Rube and Charlie and even Jake Pilkey volunteered to man the burgers. It did my heart good to see the Paradise community start acting like one.

"What a great idea, Charlotte," Frankie Felker said. "I can't remember the last time I was at a barbecue. I'll take care of the chicken."

"A corn boil," Greta said. "Can't have a barbecue without corn on the cob. It's a tad early in the season, but I'm sure I can rustle up a few ears."

By ten o'clock that morning I had just about everyone on board. Even Edwina and Thomasina agreed to come.

"We'll get a pig slaughtered right away, Charlotte."

I gasped. "What?"

"A pig. Nothing like a whole pig for a barbecue."

"Mm, mm, mm," Edwina rubbed her stomach. "When was the last time we ate one of our own pigs, Thomasina?"

"Daddy's funeral, I believe. You remember, don't you? We built that spit, and Uncle Carmichael kept turning it until the skin got crispy." Thomasina looked at me. "Skin turned practically orange, Charlotte. That little piggy fed us for days after Daddy died."

"So you're okay with"—I swallowed—"slaughtering a pig by yourselves?"

"Nothin' to it. Not really. Long as your knife is sharp enough," Thomasina said with a glint in her eye.

I had heard enough. If they were willing to handle it, it was fine by me. But where in the heck would they get a grill big enough to accommodate a whole hog? Edwina scratched under her John Deere cap. "Course we'll have hamburgers on the grill, but hot dogs might be a bit of a . . . a . . . "

"Redundancy," Thomasina said.

I shook my head and walked away. Thomasina was an odd combination of intellect and farm-girl tomboy.

As had become my habit when I made my journeys around Paradise, the Wrinkel trailer was my last stop. I noticed that Fergus's truck was missing. I hurried right up to the door and knocked.

Suzy pulled open the door.

"Suzy," I said. "I came to invite you to the barbecue this afternoon. The whole park is turning out. We're even roasting a pig and everything—baked beans, burgers, the whole shootin' match." I tried to make my voice as cheery as I could, but I was nervous. "And I'm going to make some pies, and Greta said something about a corn boil. It's shaping up to be a grand time. Just a grand time."

Suzy looked around like she was expecting Fergus at any second. "Thank you, Charlotte, but I don't think—"

"Nonsense. You just come. Don't you worry about Fergus. You need to just tell him, Suzy. Just tell him what you're doing. I did it. I once told my Herman, 'Herman, I don't care what you say, I am changing my hairstyle,' and I went right out that morning to the Sit and Curl and came back with the world's most embarrassing perm—they were all the rage a couple of years ago—but that wasn't the point—"

"I can't, Charlotte." She started to close the door. But I stuck my foot inside. Something I learned from Herman. "Just put your foot in the door and they can't slam it on your face," he said.

"Please, Suzy. It's just a barbecue. To celebrate summer and the softball team."

She nodded. "But I ain't on the team." She turned her profile to me and I saw a fresh bruise on her cheek.

"Is that why? You have a bruise?"

She nodded once, closed her eyes, and I saw her pain. Not just the physical pain, but what was deep down, invisible to the rest of the world. The soul damage that Fergus had done. I took a deep breath and silently asked God for courage.

"When did that happen?"

"Last night. He only hit me once last night and then stopped. It was like a miracle when he stopped this time. I thought maybe it was God's hand that stopped his. I know Rose has been praying."

"Oh, Suzy. But he shouldn't even be doing it even one time. Now, you come to the party, okay?"

"I don't want folks looking at me. And, besides, Fergus won't allow it."

"Who is going to look at you?"

"Everybody. All of them folks out there, Charlotte. They'll see what I'm hiding."

I mumbled and then said it right out loud. "You and Rose."

"What? I don't understand. What about Rose?"

"Rose has . . . her scars." A pang of guilt swept over my chest for giving away another secret. But like I said, I was no champion at secret keeping.

"She keeps them covered up. She was in a fire and—"

"But the fire wasn't her fault, I'm sure. So why would she be ashamed?"

"Exactly, Suzy. It wasn't her fault."

Suzy looked at her feet. "What about Fergus?"

"He wouldn't dare touch you if you go."

"What about later? After."

I swallowed. "I'm sorry. I guess I keep hoping—"

Lucky alerted us to Fergus's truck pulling into the drive. He didn't even bother to park it in its proper spot. He must have thrown it into park with force because the Ford lurched forward and back a couple of times before he jumped out.

"You best go, Charlotte," Suzy said.

"What are you doing here?" Fergus slammed the truck door."Got a problem with your trailer?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. I came to invite Suzy . . . and you . . . to the barbecue this afternoon."

"Barbecue? We aren't interested in that." He turned his attention to Suzy, and it made me queasy. "Get on inside now, Honey Buns. Go on." Suzy started to close the door, but I still had my foot in the way. And then I dropped the grenade I had been hanging onto. "I'm sure Hazel Crenshaw would love to see you and your pretty wife this afternoon. You know what I mean, Fergus? Unless of course you want me to tell the whole park your little—"

His eyes grew about as wide as half dollars. "Never mind that."

"Well, I'm sure the others would like to know who really owns this place and who is pulling your strings." I walked away from the trailer and stood behind Fergus. I could still see Suzy at the door.

Fergus kicked at some gravel and then spun around and stared daggers at me. "We'll come to your stupid little barbecue. But only for a few minutes, and just to make Hazel happy."

"Fine," I said. I glanced over his shoulder at Suzy and gave her the thumbs-up sign. She melted back inside the trailer.

Lucky bounded over and leaped up to my waist. I gave him a scratch behind the ears. "See you later, Mr. Wrinkel."

He made some kind of noise and headed into the trailer. I hoped with all my heart that he wouldn't lay a hand on Suzy. I was afraid I had put her in a bad situation. But he wouldn't dare make another mark on her now. Not for the whole park to see. Not for Hazel Crenshaw to see—even though I had not invited her yet and wasn't at all certain she would even come.

I started up the hill and found Rose tending to the petunias near the Giant Hand of God.

"Hey," I called. "Did you hear?"

"I did. What gave you the idea to throw a barbecue? Everyone is talking about it."

"Just came to me like any old idea, I suppose. We have a lot to celebrate. It's summer for one and The Angels are about to play their first game and Suzy took a major step outside, asking me to make pie for Fergus."

Rose got to her feet and dropped the small trowel she was using and hugged me. "I knew you were part of God's plan for Paradise. I just knew it. You woke them up, Charlotte. You got Paradise buzzing. Just look around."

And that was when I noticed that people were out and about. Carla yanked lawn chairs from her old, rusted-out shed. Gwendolyn and her husband set up a picnic table that came from I don't know where. Asa and Jake Pilkey raised a ratty old Stars and Stripes up the flag pole. The flag probably should have been burned, but it waved proudly over Paradise.

"Oh, my goodness gracious, Rose. It's really happening." I took Rose's hand. "And you. You took that heavy sweater off. That's reason enough to celebrate."

"I was just too hot," she said and then smiled.

"Right. And get this. I blackmailed Fergus into coming and bringing Suzy. Blackmailed. I guess that's the right word."

"You what?"

I nodded and looked up at the hand. "I did. I told him if he didn't come I'd tell the whole park his little secret that he is nothing more than Hazel Crenshaw's gofer."

"Gofer?"

"You know, besides the weasel that he is, Hazel makes him go fer this and go fer that. Gofer. Herman taught me that."

I felt tears in the corners of my eyes as that nasty grief rose in my chest. Some words just trigger it for me, and all I can do is let it happen. The only difference is now I can shut it down easier. I can make it wait for a more opportune time.

"I was on my way to Hazel's. Think she'll come out for the barbecue?"

Rose shook her head. "You know her better than anyone around here. Think I'll go back to my trailer and make up a batch of potato salad. Can't have a barbecue without it."

"Sounds good. I think we're going to have enough food for an army," I said. "A whole army."

"Hope I can remember the recipe. It's been a while since I made it last."

I nearly bubbled over with delight, but I couldn't help it. I put both my hands on Rose's shoulders. "You'll remember. Like you always say, you can do all things through Christ."

Rose's eyes glistened. "Why, Charlotte Figg, I do believe God has got his hand on you."

Lucky and I approached Hazel's trailer. It seemed quieter than usual. Almost spooky. But then again, it was still early and I thought she was a late sleeper. But then again, a woman that age, not taking the medicine her doctor prescribed, well, that could spell just about anything.

I rapped on her door and even jangled the wind chimes, five little brass sparrows all in a row. And then I waited and waited. I was just about to bust in, thinking that the poor old bird had fallen asleep last night and never woke up when the door creaked open.

"Charlotte," she said. Her voice still morning raspy. "Come in. Come in, child."

She wore a purple bathrobe that had seen better days and a pair of pink slippers that resembled flamingoes. And with no hat on her head, this was the first time I saw her hair, long and silver. Not gray, silver.

"Thank you, Hazel."

"Coffee," she said.

"No, thanks. I already had three cups this morning."

"No, not for you. Make me some coffee. Put the pot on."

"Oh, sure."

I located a can of Maxwell House and rinsed out the percolator, measured enough coffee for five or six cups, and plugged it in. "There you go, Hazel. Can I get you anything else?"

"Got some of that pecan pie you brought over the other day. It's in the fridge."

I hurried and served her a slice on a pretty yellow dish. "I have some news."

Hazel took the plate and sat in her rocker. "You know what I'm looking forward to?"

I sat next to her on the sofa. "No, Hazel. What are you looking forward to?"

"Peaches. I love peaches. Fresh. Right off the tree. There's an orchard not far from here."

"I know. Asa brings me bushels of apples for pie. I'm looking forward to the late summer also. Apples get sweeter, peaches ripen. I'll make you a fresh peach pie. But we have a whole summer to get through and—"