The Glory of Green (13 page)

"They're exaggerating," I said, frowning at Katy. "Could I interest you in lunch? You won't get food like this in New York City." I sounded the city's name as though I were on a game show.

By the middle of the afternoon, I felt tireder than I had the morning after the tornado and more anxious than when a series of fires had been set at the paper by the now dead Chuck McCuller, big-time jerk.

"If you would gather your staff and friends at our van at five o'clock your time, we'll introduce you live and move into the recorded segment," Drew said, after eating what I was fairly certain were two large plates of ham and potato salad and three desserts. Nearly every person at Grace Chapel had moseyed by, to be hospitable or smoothed their hair and walked right in front of the cameras.

As we gathered for the broadcast that afternoon, Drew's motor home was parked on the street by the paper, and the crowd was larger than attendance at my wedding, gradually building until it looked like Green's summer ice cream festival.A giant monitor sat to the side, and people waved at the cameras as though outside a Manhattan studio for a morning show.

Someone had written "Welcome to Green: Home of the Green High Rabbits" on a poster, complete with the school mascot drawn with green paint. The youth minister from the Baptist church down the street held a sign that said, "He is Risen."

My stomach felt like I had eaten too much of Estelle's banana pudding and one too many of Pastor Jean's legendary deviled eggs.

"How's it going?" Kevin whispered in my ear, and I almost squealed with happiness.

"I've never been so happy to see anyone in my life. Help! What do you recommend for an upset stomach?"

"That rough?" As usual, she looked gorgeous, her dark hair swept up, the slight smell of Dove soap on her skin. She wore a pair of yellow jeans that would have made me feel like a float in a parade, but looked like an advertisement in a spring catalog on her.

"Where's Asa Corinthian?" I scanned the crowd.

"Over there with Mama and Daddy," she said. "They wouldn't have missed this for the world." Marcus and Pearl sat on the edge of the crowd in lawn chairs. Asa, dressed in his Easter suit, was playing peekaboo with Molly, who wore a giant smile.

"Are you having déjà vu?" Kevin asked. "Doesn't this remind you of the crowd at the first newspaper fire on New Year's Day last year?"

"Isn't it something?"

"It's wonderful. It's the first time I've seen most of these people smile in a month."

"I've hardly seen you," I said. "The doctoring clearly isn't slowing down."

"Not much." She shook her head. "We're getting more of the stress-related ailments now. As the shock wears off, people's emotions are coming out in headaches and high blood pressure.By the time I make rounds after clinic, I barely see my son."

"Are you OK?" I put my hand on her arm. As I looked closer I could see the strain of fatigue on her face.

"It feels unreal that Papa Levi's dead. Every day I think he'll be sitting with A.C. when I get home. I miss him so much, more than I expected."

"I feel the same way about Tom," I said, digging in my pocked for a Kleenex. "I relied on his opinion much more than I realized."

A loud giggle from Asa caught our attention, and I turned to see him on Chris's shoulders headed our way.

"Isn't he adorable?" Kevin asked.

"Your son or my husband?"

"Both. You're a great friend, Lois. Happy Easter."

"Lois, that reporter guy's looking for you," Chris said. "It's about time to start."

"Say a prayer," I said, giving Asa and Chris a quick peck on the cheek.

I squirmed throughout the broadcast, groaning out loud when I saw—and heard—myself on camera.

"Do I really sound like that?" I whispered to Chris.

"My southern bride. I believe you've picked up an accent."

I moaned when the reporter described me as a kind of paragon of community journalism and glowed when he talked about my "fine" staff. I beamed at how friendly and smart Katy sounded. The crowd hooted and pointed when their neighbors were interviewed, and overall the story had an affectionate tone.

"This is Drew Durrett, signing off from Green, Louisiana, where the people are hard-working and God-fearing . . . and will never give up hope." The crowd milled around, slow to leave.

Pastor Jean pulled Maria's sons in their big red wagon to where I stood. "I love to watch how God uses you," she said.

"What in the world are you talking about now, Pastor?" I smiled at the three boys as we spoke.

"The ancient words of the resurrection and a live television broadcast. Only Lois Barker Craig could bring those two together with such ease."

"Ease?" I said with a snort. "My deodorant quit working hours ago."

Jean laughed. "Easy or not, you stepped up to use your unique gifts right when they were most needed."

Nearly everyone I'd ever met in Green came by to say thanks, ranging from Rose, whose antique mall had been squarely behind the live shots, and Anna Grace, leaning against her walker, Bud next to her. I didn't tell them I had tried to weasel out of the interview.

The crowd shifted slightly, and a path opened to show Mayor Eva making her way toward me, looking like royalty in a silk suit and matching heels. She took both my hands and pulled me to her.

"We turned a corner today, thanks to you," she said. "You showed the glory of Green."

Summer Montgomery of the Ringgold community had an excellent performance at T-ball this week, according to her Mamaw Evelyn. "She found seven four-leaf clovers during one game," Evelyn said. "Things like that do not happen every day, and we think that newspaper photographer should have come out here to get a picture." This correspondent reminds you we welcome reader snapshots as long as they are not too blurry.

—The Green News-Item

K
aty and Molly wore gardenias on their graduation gowns, a Green High tradition.

The smell of the luscious white flowers and the sight of the girls as they prepared to line up outside the high school gym made my heart nearly pop.

Both were headed to well-regarded southern universities with intense admissions requirements.

"Aren't they amazing?" I asked Tammy, who, as usual, was snapping photos.

"Totally amazing," she said. "Stand over here so I can get the three of you together."

Chris and other teachers stood on the stage to give out diplomas to the fifty-three members of the class, shaking hands with sheepish boys and hugging the girls, most of whom they had watched grow up.

Katy's stepfather, the superintendent of schools, said a few words and stepped in to present Katy's diploma, a move that seemed to catch her off guard. As her mother stood from the side to snap a photograph, Katy put her arms around her stepfather, her forehead on his chest for a second. "I love you," she whispered, the words picked up by the cordless microphone attached to his lapel.

I wept.

"Katy had such a tough time accepting him," I whispered with a sniff as the stream of graduates continued across the stage. "He never gave up on her. I'm so proud of that young woman."

Iris laughed softly. "You sound like her mother."

"I'm old enough to be her mother."

After the students crossed the wide stage, the principal announced their plans. For Katy, he said, "University of Georgia, broadcast journalism."

My heart jumped up into my throat, and my eyes met Katy's.

"Sorry, Lois," she mouthed and then waved her diploma in the air and smiled as the audience clapped.

"Broadcast?" My voice was way too loud.

"Shhh," a woman behind me said.

I looked at Iris. "Did you know?"

"She told me a couple of weeks ago. The taste of television on Easter got her attention."

"Shhh," the person said again, and I sat up straighter and shut up, my mind whirling with shock. I had fantasized about Katy moving back to Green after college and taking over the
Item
one day. A broadcast degree probably meant she intended to do neither.

When Molly's name was called, her mother and brothers and sisters stood and cheered, and she smiled shyly and blew them a kiss as she started across the stage.

"University of Florida, business administration," the principal announced.

I clapped so hard my hands hurt, and I heard one of Tammy's loud whistles. We had worked hard to get Molly's business scholarship to Florida, pulling old newspaper strings.We spent hours wrapping up application packets.

"Their essays will have to be top-notch," Katy's stepfather had said. "The big colleges don't have much respect for Green High. Not prestigious enough."

Knowing Molly was going to get a first-class education helped make up for Katy's secret change of heart. "Broadcast journalism?" I muttered to Iris. "Haven't I taught her anything?"

The aspiring TV journalist found me outside the main door of the school auditorium, the shade welcome on the early June morning.

"I'm sorry," Katy said. "I was going to tell you, but I was afraid you'd be mad."

"I am mad."

"I'll still be doing journalism."

"It's not the same. It's surface stuff."

"The stories about Green haven't been shallow," she said."They've made a huge difference."

"Not all of them." I suspected I sounded like the teenager in this conversation.

She took the gardenia from her gown and fastened it to my dress, holding my shoulder when I tried to pull back.

"Don't be mad," she said. "You're my inspiration. I was headed to beauty school when I first met you. You knew I was a journalist before I did."

By the end of June it was clear that change was here to stay, and I might as well get used to it. My disappointment at Katy's career path had been replaced by my dismay about her and Molly leaving for college in a little more than a month. I figured out that Alex had interviewed with two regional newspapers.Chris was complaining about our need to find a new place to live.

I had also become a celebrity. I had been interviewed a half dozen more times by television stations, national magazines, and major newspapers, eager to show the spirit of small-town America and exploit the story of a former big-city journalist who had found happiness with a catfish farmer and a threelegged dog.

My friend Marti called from Dayton to say the newsroom was envious of my fame.

"You're a star. Every time I look up, you're on television.Yesterday Gary brought in a magazine and a newspaper with stories about the rebirth of Green and the lovely Lois Craig."

"You're full of it," I said. "You know how the media are.Where one reporter goes, they all go."

"Nice to see you haven't lost your respect for the profession."

I felt a blush crawling up my face. "It's nice and hot down here. Isn't it about time for your annual visit?"

"Sweet change of subject. I told you I'm not coming until you get out of that motel. I want to see your new place."

"Stay tuned. No news there yet."

"Maybe you could make the search into a reality show."

"I'd love to chat," I said, laughing, "but I have a photo shoot with a magazine."

"Seriously?"

"Walking in the door." I hung up and went to greet the guest.

The photo process was tedious, and I looked in the mirror a dozen times to see if my hair was in place. As usual, the staff gathered around, either to give moral support or slip into one of the shots.

After the freelance photographer had dismantled her lighting and left the building, Molly paused from pasting up a page of classified advertising.

"You're a player," she said.

"I haven't played in so long I don't know what it feels like," I said, rubbing my neck.

"She means you're a mover and shaker," Tammy said."You've got to admit it's sort of fun."

"Have you noticed she gets more attention from the television interviews?" Katy asked. "Everywhere I go people tell me they saw Miss Lois on the TV." She spoke the last sentence imitating the voice of the country members of Grace Community.

"I'm ignoring you. You'll come to your senses one of these days," I said.

"Who would have thought a tornado would make you famous?" Tammy said, fidgeting with her necklace of bright beads. "You're finally trendy."

"Who's famous?" Iris Jo asked, walking in from her office, a pink bandanna around her bald head.

"Our fearless leader," Katy said. "My stepdad says she's a media darling."

"I don't want to be a media darling."

"Sure you do," Tammy said. "Why else would you do it?"

"I'm not sure."

"To help the town?" Molly asked.

"To increase advertising?" Iris Jo asked. "Because if that's the case, I'm all for it. I'm working on the books for the second quarter, and we're taking on water. We've got to bring in more revenue.""We'd better do it quick," Alex said, "because by the end of the summer, the national guys won't even know Green exists."

Holly Beth jumped down from the scratchy newsroom couch and ran over to Katy. The puppy came to work with me most of the time and had become the newspaper mascot. Most nights she stayed with the other three dogs at the Craig house, with a rumor that she slept on the bed. I was sure she was the most spoiled dog in history.

"It's time for Holly to go outside." I attached her red leash, a gift from Mayor Eva.

"Watch out for the paparazzi," Katy said, and Tammy held up her camera and shot a quick series of me on my way out the door.

While their teasing regularly got old, they were right. I enjoyed the media attention. Since moving to Green, I felt like I had to prove something professionally, and the tornado had allowed me to do that.

Before I got out of the lobby, Linda called me back.

"Phone's for you. Sounds important."

I picked Holly up and walked into my office. The caller identified himself as the head of a small chain of regional newspapers, competitors to the newspaper group I had worked for in Ohio.

"We're impressed with your work and would like you to come for a visit."

"That's very gracious of you," I said, "but I don't plan to move away from Green. I not only own the newspaper but I'm married to a local man. This is home for me."

"We'd love to recruit you," the man said with a chuckle, "but I was inviting you to talk about training. Perhaps you've heard about our corporate retreat center."

"The one in Montana?"

"One and the same. How about it? We'd compensate you well for your time."

As he spoke, Holly wandered to the corner and peed. And thus my consulting career was born.

Over supper at the Cotton Boll, I told Chris about the call.

"I committed to make a visit. To Montana."

"Real funny," he said, reaching for the catsup. "You had me going there for a minute."

"I'm serious. They want to wine and dine me at their corporate retreat center in Montana."

"When?"

"Next week."

"How can you possibly do that? You don't have time to help find us a place to live, much less go to Montana."

"They'll pay me good money, which we sorely need."

"I thought you were settled in Green."

"This is a short business trip, not a job interview."

"But won't it lead to more travel?" he asked. "It sounds to me like they're wooing you for a long-term project."

"They're flexible. They said they'd work around my schedule."

"What about my schedule?"

"That's not fair," I said. "You have summer school and sports, or you could go with me."

"We've only been married three months. I'm not ready to let you go off to kingdom come."

"It's not kingdom come, wherever that is. It's Montana. Out West. Big Sky. You know the place."

"I do know the place. As I recall, we were going there together on our honeymoon." Chris never used that sarcastic tone, and I was shocked.

"I'm going home," I said, "wherever
that
is." I stalked out of the café, barely nodding at the familiar faces between me and the door.

Back at the paper, I took Holly from her crate and got into my car. I drove out to my old home place, sulking from my first fight with Chris since the wedding. "Can't I make my own decisions without consulting him?" I said to the dog. "Doesn't he know how hard it is to make ends meet at the paper?"

The dog whined as though she knew something was wrong.

On Route Two, I held her close and wandered across the land, pulling a lawn chair to the spot where my favorite chair used to sit. Mosquitoes swarmed in the late evening gloom and wasps flitted in and out of a gourd birdhouse. The little house had stayed attached to an oak even though my house had blown away.

"You have no right to take their home," I said, taking off one of my shoes, swatting at the wasps and then running like a crazy person, Holly barking madly.

A sound behind me caught my attention, and I saw Pastor Jean's car drive off. Molly was walking up the driveway.

"Knock, knock," she said with a slight smile. "Is it all right if I come in?"

"If you don't mind hanging out with a person who's crazier than a loon."

"How crazy is a loon?"

"Pretty crazy, apparently. What are you doing way out here?"

"I need to talk to you in private. I caught a ride with Pastor Jean, who was headed this way."

"How'd you know where I was?"

"Jean saw Chris downtown. He told her you two had a fight, and you weren't at the motel or the paper, so he figured you'd come out here."

"He was right. Let's sit over here." I motioned to the porch swing that Chris had bought me soon after the storm.