The Reading Circle (5 page)

“Stout Fella is the nickname you're looking for.”

“Yeah, well, I don't think he's any great shakes at Shakespeare or any other literary figure. And now everybody has to toss out Eudora Welty and read
Forrest Gump
because those two want to? What's really going on here?”

Maura Beth resented the fact that his rhetoric was intimidating her. “But everybody voted on it, Jeremy. I had to go along with the majority. Miss Voncille liked the Vietnam part of the story, and even the Crumpton sisters thought it was a good idea. And, yes,” she admitted sheepishly, “they will all be discussing the football angle in the plot and eating tailgating dishes for the potluck. You might as well know that right now. I went along with it because I'm just not cut out to be a dictator.”

He shot up from the sofa and began pacing around the room like an expectant father in a hospital waiting room. “Well, that's just great, isn't it?! Here you fought hard against the mentality of the good ole boys like Councilman Sparks on the City Council all last year to keep the library open, and now it looks like some more good ole boys are taking over your book club. One step forward, two steps back.”

He kept at the pacing, and for a while Maura Beth said nothing, following him with her eyes. “I don't see it that way at all. You're overreacting,” she said finally, trying her best to salvage what was rapidly becoming an ugly confrontation.

“No, I'm not!” he snapped back. “You really expect me to come down to your next meeting and talk about how great football is, when all my efforts to get a fair shake from New Gallatin Academy have basically been dashed by the love affair the South has with that silly game? Actually, it's more like an addiction, if you want to know the truth! Who do you think got all the girls when I was in high school: The jocks, or the guys like me who wrote for the school literary magazine?!”

Maura Beth's discomfort had now morphed into shock. She could not believe Jeremy was acting this way and feared that anything further she said to him would be pounced upon mercilessly. Yet, her independent spirit was not about to be silenced. “So is that what this is all about? We're going all the way back to high school? The last thing in the world I'd like to do is dwell on that painful period of my life. I was teased at first because of my red hair and freckles. Of course, I learned how to toughen up. Maybe you shouldn't act like this is the end of the world. If you stay the course regarding your goals, you'll eventually win out.”

He continued his lecture while pacing, though he did lower his voice somewhat. “Okay, so maybe I was oversimplifying things. But I thought we saw eye to eye on this issue. You've let me down. I realize I'm in a terrible mood because of Yelverton's decision, but I guess I'd already begun to think of The Cherry Cola Book Club as a voice in the wilderness.”

“You do love your metaphors, don't you? At any rate, that's a lot of pressure to put on one little librarian in a little town like Cherico.
The New York Times Book Review
hasn't asked for my opinion even once,” Maura Beth said in an attempt at peacemaking. But one look at Jeremy's face told her there was no truce.

“Hey, if I don't try to change things up at New Gallatin Academy, and you don't hang tough here in Cherico, we might as well revert to cave drawings to communicate!” Jeremy continued, finally coming to a sudden halt and planting his feet firmly in the middle of the room. It was as if he'd found his mark for a scene they were shooting for a movie. Only then did he resume his monologue. “Shouldn't we have loftier goals than who scores the most touchdowns on Saturdays and Sundays? How low should our common denominator actually be allowed to go?”

Maura Beth sensed the posturing, the playing to the crowd of one, and remained unmoved. Furthermore, she intended to show him she was no slouch in the speechifying department herself. “Can't we make room for both? Though I will admit I feel like I have to fight the good fight practically every day of my life. But part of my mission as a librarian is to be inclusive of all ideas and interests in the collection that we make available to the public. We're not supposed to choose sides, but we're asked to frequently, believe me. Some people want us to remove any books on witchcraft, while others want to know why we don't have more information on gay issues. The truth is, we're the first line of defense against censorship whenever it rears its ugly head. Meanwhile, I just don't want to be known as the Dictator of The Cherry Cola Book Club.”

“I have a terrific headache,” Jeremy told her, massaging the tips of his fingers into his forehead. “Do you have something I could take?”

After Maura Beth had excused herself and retrieved a couple of aspirin and a glass of water for him to wash them down, Jeremy again took a seat on the sofa where he sank back and considered. Then he dropped the bomb. “I don't want to participate in the
Forrest Gump
review. I'd probably end up saying things to people that I'd regret, even to my uncle Doug. Not that I have anything against Winston Groom, you understand. More power to any writer who makes a name for himself. It's just that this last-minute reversal thing is getting to me. I'll gladly come down for
The Robber Bridegroom
whenever you schedule it, but not this.”

Maura Beth resumed her seat beside him, taking his hand and smiling gently. “I'd still like for you to be here, Jeremy. You don't have to say anything. Just be here for me, and for the good of the club and what it means to the library. We've already had a couple of spirited debates—I see nothing wrong with continuing that. You above all should respect the value of the free exchange of ideas.”

He looked down at his lap where his hands had gone limp and then shook his head. “I just can't do it, Maura Beth. The way I feel right now, I'm wondering if I even want to return to New Gallatin Academy next year. I think I'm butting my head bloody against the bleachers of the football stadium. Maybe I should have been born in a simpler time.”

“How far back do you want to go? Before indoor plumbing? You really are in a negative mood, aren't you?” Maura Beth said. Then it occurred to her that she should be drawing a line in the sand, so she did. “Maybe we shouldn't see each other until you get things figured out. I don't particularly like the side of you I've seen today, and you seem to think I don't measure up to your lofty literary standards and that I'm suddenly a huge disappointment to you.”

There was a long silence filled with tension, and neither of them seemed willing to break through it. Finally, Jeremy rose from the sofa and headed toward the door. “Seems like we've both said too much this afternoon. I was going to invite you out to Aunt Connie and Uncle Doug's for dinner tonight, but I guess maybe that's not such a good idea now. They'll be disappointed that you're not coming, but I'll make up something to tell them.”

“We seem to have hit a
Gump
in the road,” Maura Beth said, trying for levity at the last minute.

Jeremy produced a weak little smile and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Sorry. It's been a really bad weekend for me. You're right. I need to figure things out and get back to you.”

“I understand all of that, Jeremy, but please, for the sake of our friendship, don't take too long.”

She watched him marching to his car with those long, angry strides and wondered if this might be the beginning of the end for a promising relationship that was only a few months old. Over even before it had begun?

 

It was the sort of evening given over to romantic walks and whispering sweet nothings in the ear, not to mention a good deal warmer than it should have been for February in the extreme corner of Northeast Mississippi.

“This is practically that same moon that was shining when we first drove out here to see where our little eatery was going up in the mud,” Harlan Lattimore was saying to his ex-wife after he had cooked and served up their dinner. With the restaurant closed and no one around to disturb them, they were standing on the deck of The Marina Bar and Grill whose pilings jutted out daringly over the slack waters of Lake Cherico. For her part, Periwinkle was having none of his selective remembrances of things past, including his repeated attempts to slip his arm around her waist.

“That was oh so many moons ago, Harlan John Lattimore. And I no longer have those girlish stars in my eyes.” She moved away from him slightly and then took a swig from her bottle of beer. “Otherwise, not much has changed out here. You can still turn out a mean medium-rare steak and loaded baked potato, which I thank you for. And you still got this same old faded gray deck with the picnic tables for the ones that like the fresh air, and the same old neon jukebox with all the country line dancing tunes indoors by the bar. Even though line dancing is so over, it's not even funny. And I imagine that back room I unwittingly decorated for your extracurricular activities is still up and running.”

He seemed to take her sarcasm in stride and even cracked a smile. “Now, you'd be wrong about that, Peri. I got rid of it and expanded the pantry over two years ago. If you'd like the grand tour, I'd be happy to oblige. But it's just a collection of canned goods and spices with a few cardboard boxes thrown in for good measure. I gave the bed and the mattress the old heave-ho and drove 'em on down to the Cherico Salvation Army.”

“And they took something that worn-out?”

“You can make jokes all you want, but I really am a changed man,” he insisted. “I wanted to tell you that tonight here under the moonlight. Ordered it up special just for you.”

Periwinkle looked him over with a skeptical expression. He hadn't changed much since their divorce, at least not physically. He still sported a lean and tall physique with rugged features accentuated by a neatly trimmed mustache, a full head of curly hair with a few grays here and there, and he had yet to give up on his blue jeans and cowboy shirt costumes. Somewhere along the way, he had died and gone to Line Dancing Heaven. But she had her doubts as to whether he had truly renounced his philandering ways, back room or no back room. No matter what, she was not about to be sweet-talked into anything she felt was not in her best interests. She was forty now, over two decades removed from the guileless country teenager who had once fallen for his macho Marlboro Man charms.

“So what's caused this so-called change in you?”

“I was hoping you'd ask,” he said, giving her a roguish wink. “The old me wouldn't even admit to what I'm gonna tell you, but here goes nothing. A few years back this sweet young thing in a skirt leaving nothing to the imagination wiggles her way across the floor and takes a bar stool right smack dab in front of me. I could tell she was definitely gonna make a move and—”

“Seems to have happened to you all the time, as I found out in no uncertain terms,” she interrupted.

He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head. “Okay, okay. But this little item was different. ‘What's your name?' I asked her. And she said it was Tammie, spelled with an I-E—”

“I'm sure that set her apart from the others.”

“Please stop interrupting me, Peri. You may not believe it, but I have a real good point to make here.” He waited a few seconds to see if she was going to comply, continuing only after she shrugged her shoulders and nodded with a look of resignation. “Anyhow, she happened to stroll in on my birthday, and a couple of the regulars mentioned that fact while we were all talking our typical bar talk. So Tammie says, ‘Hey, how old are you anyway, barkeep?' And I like a fool tell her the truth. ‘Forty-nine,' I say. And that's when I get the surprise of my life. Tammie looks me straight in the eye and says I need to go see the doctor right away. Of course, I have no idea what she's talking about, so I ask her to explain. And she goes, ‘Anyone that old is bound to have something wrong with 'em.' ”

Periwinkle started up with her heartiest laugh and took her time letting it die off. “Man, did you get your comeuppance!”

“I guess I did. And you know what? I really did go to the doctor for that checkup I hadn't had in a long time. After all the blood work and the X-rays came back, I was thankful there was nothing wrong with me. But it did start me thinking about the future. I mean, how long was I really gonna settle for these one-night stands? This generation gap that was all lipstick and legs right in front of me was only gonna get wider as time went on.” He frowned for a moment at what he'd just said. “Wait . . . that didn't come out right.”

“It's nothing I haven't heard before. I'm a big girl.”

He moved in, bringing the smell of beer on his warm breath and the English Leather he had dabbed on his neck closer to her. “Fact is, I was crazy to fool around on you, Peri. I didn't know how good I had it. Look at you, just as slim and beautiful as you were when we first started dating. I even like your new blond hair.”

She was still in no mood for such tactics, however, and again backed away from him ever so slightly. “Yeah, well, it's getting time for another one of my root jobs over at Cherico Tresses. But that's neither here nor there. Harlan, what on earth do you really want? Can't you come clean?”

“Of course I can. I really want to be with you again,” he answered, lifting his right eyebrow seductively. “I thought I made that clear.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

He took his time, taking a swallow of beer first. “Well, I can see why you would have your doubts. But I noticed you haven't found anyone, either—at least not that I know of. You're not hiding a boyfriend in your attic, are you?”

“No, besides, I'd have him chained in the basement so he couldn't play around on me like you did.”

They both laughed; then he said, “I had that coming, I guess. But I was thinking maybe we could try again. What's the harm in that?”