13
Friends of the Library
The weather decided to cooperate on the day that had been so long in coming. To be sure, it was chilly the way early November often is, but there was no threat of rain to give people an excuse for staying inside their homes and not venturing out in “all that stuff.” Maura Beth was happy to have at least one given amid so many unknowns. For instance, would all of Connie’s lake house neighbors make an appearance as they had said they would? Would the Crumpton sisters renege after their tainted bridge victory? How many of Periwinkle’s customers who had taken flyers would be inspired either to get a library card or attend the potluck and review? What about Becca’s diligent radio promotion? Or the many businesses Maura Beth had visited personally to stir up interest?
Then there was the New Gallatin Academy field trip that Jeremy had thrown together over the last couple of days. He was still waiting on last-minute approval from the headmaster. There was also some concern on the part of a few of the parents about the overnight expenses they would incur and the matter of the school being willing to share those with them. If the final decision went Jeremy’s way, twenty-one schoolboys from Nashville would be attending the Mockingbird event as part of his inspirational “Living the Classics in the Real World” program.
In fact, Maura Beth was a nervous wreck all morning waiting for Jeremy’s phone call. She paced around her purple apartment holding her journal in her hand, having already revisited page twenty-five three different times. She truly believed that this was the most important juncture of her life to date.
When the phone finally rang, she jumped like an armadillo in highway traffic and picked up the receiver in the kitchen with great trepidation. “Hello?” she managed, her face looking as if she were tiptoeing around a coiled snake.
But it wasn’t the voice she was hoping to hear. “Hey, it’s me,” Periwinkle said. “I’ve got good news. Mr. Place is bringing his mother, Ardenia, with him tonight. She’s delightful. I treated them both to dinner a few days after I hired him.”
“I’ll look forward to meeting her, then.”
“How are you holding up, honey?”
Maura Beth knew better than to play games with her friend. “I’m about to lose it waiting for Jeremy to call me about the bus trip. I thought you might be him when you called.”
“Sorry about that. But you just listen to me. You told me that you were trying to make the transition from a Melanie to a Scarlett right after that first club meeting. So you be strong and don’t fade into the wallpaper. That’s strictly for wallflowers.”
Maura Beth managed a much-needed chuckle. “Thanks for the reminder. You’re the best.”
Another hour passed and still no call from Jeremy. It was all she could do to keep from dialing him up, but she focused on Periwinkle’s advice instead. “If you can’t sit still for this little detail, how are you going to manage the entire evening when it rolls around?” she told herself out loud as she stood in front of her full-length mirror.
Then, another phone call, producing another spurt of adrenaline. This time it was Becca.
“You won’t believe this. I’m having unexpected trouble with Stout Fella and his wardrobe,” she explained, her exasperation flowing through the line.
Maura Beth briefly held the receiver away from her face and then frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He’s acting like a prima donna today. I want him to wear the new three-piece suit I just bought him. Of course, all his old clothes just hang on him. Anyway, he wants to wear his old cowboy clothes from back when he went out line dancing three times a week at The Marina Bar and Grill. He had all of them taken in by a seamstress down at Hodge’s Department Store without even telling me. He thinks it’ll show off his new athletic frame better. I reminded him that he was still very much a married man, and he said he was just doing it to promote our show more effectively. Really, Maura Beth, there’s no one like him.”
“Look at it this way, Becca. He’ll have plenty of opportunities to wear that suit when he negotiates all those big real-estate deals of his. Meanwhile, why not go ahead and let him be Roy Rogers or Tex Ritter for the evening? Just make sure he doesn’t bring a horse into my library. I don’t have the budget for the cleanup.”
Becca’s tension immediately dissolved into laughter. “Maura Beth, you always have the right answer for everything. Cowboy shirt, boots, and jeans, it is, then. And I’ll make him keep Trigger in the stable.”
They both chuckled, said good-bye, and hung up, but Maura Beth stared at the phone for a minute or two with something that felt a lot like resentment. Was Jeremy ever going to call?
Finally, he did, and Maura Beth could tell by the tone of his “Hello, sorry this has taken so long,” that the news was not going to be good. “The majority of the parents thought it was too expensive,” he continued, “and the headmaster said we just didn’t have the money to send one of the buses down there for—his words here—a ‘glorified book report.’ Translation: That kind of travel money is reserved for the football team’s road games.”
“I’m so disappointed,” Maura Beth said. “We’re not off to a good start with our attendance.”
“Maybe if I’d thought of it a little sooner and had more time to talk to the parents. Anyway, there is a bit of good news in all this. Three of the families want their boys to attend. So they’ve ponied up for hotel rooms over in Corinth, and I’ll be driving down in a few hours with three of my students and one set of parents as chaperones. I know six is a far cry from twenty-one, but it’s better than nothing.”
There was a hint of relief in Maura Beth’s sigh. “You’re absolutely right. You went out on a limb with this ambitious project, but we’ll have a good time no matter how many people show up.”
After Maura Beth hung up, she paced around the apartment for a while, unable to sit still and calm herself. Having a good time was hardly the goal here. That could easily be done at any bar or restaurant. So much more was at stake, and she began to doubt the effectiveness of her untiring campaign with many of the local businesses. True, the first person had yet to walk through the door of the library, but she couldn’t help projecting how many actually would. Numbers flew out of her head and swirled before her eyes. Twelve? Too few. Fifteen? Still not enough. Twenty? The beginning of respectability. Thirty? Was that even possible?
No matter what Periwinkle had said, it was hard work becoming a Scarlett.
The hours leading up to seven o’clock were as unsettling as the original ultimatum from Councilman Sparks had been several months earlier. Maura Beth spent most of the time in the library lobby, arranging tables, chairs, and posters with Renette Posey and Emma Frost, but no configuration seemed to satisfy her.
“Everything has to be just right,” she was telling her clerks after the latest round of musical chairs. “And this isn’t it.”
Renette walked toward the front door and then turned around, making a frame of her hands. “It’s the same semicircle we had last time—only a little bigger. It looks just fine when you first walk in.”
But Maura Beth was still shaking her head. “I’m going by instinct here, ladies. Something tells me we need to think even bigger tonight. We only have fifteen folding chairs out there right now. Let’s double that, okay? If we have empty seats, we have empty seats. But let’s don’t get caught scrambling if we’re lucky enough to have overflow. It won’t look professional, and the last thing I want tonight is to come off like I don’t know what I’m doing.”
So the three of them dragged more chairs out of the storage closet in the back and began making a double row in front of the podium. Finally, everything was laid out so that it passed muster, and Maura Beth sat down in one of the folding chairs beside her cohorts for a breather. “I’ve already called everyone who’s bringing food and reminded them that they need to be here no later than six-thirty.” She consulted her checklist. “Let’s see, we have Becca and her grilled chicken breasts with avocado and salsa for those watching their weight; Connie with her fish of the day à la Douglas and The Verdict, as she calls it; Miss Voncille and her famous biscuits and green-pepper jelly; Susan McShay with her killer potato salad that she swears by; Periwinkle with éclairs, courtesy of the culinary skills of Mr. Place; and I’m bringing my sheet cake again. Plus, we’ll have Becca’s cherry cola punch with lime. I think we’re all set.”
Momentarily, Emma Frost excused herself and headed home to her family, but Renette remained, and it was apparent to Maura Beth that she had something on her mind. She kept biting her lip and cutting her eyes this way and that but was still saying nothing.
Finally, Maura Beth decided it was time to put her at ease. “Did you have something you wanted to tell me?”
Renette straightened up a bit and exhaled. “Well . . . yes. Maybe it’s not so important now that you’ve said that the bus isn’t going to be coming down from Nashville. But the other day, Councilman Sparks came by while you were at lunch, and he asked me how things were going. I could tell he meant the Mockingbird meeting, of course. And I told him that everything was fine and that we were hoping for a big crowd.”
“So?”
“It’s just that I got a little carried away and let it slip about the field trip that Mr. McShay was working up at the last minute and that there might be a bus full of schoolboys coming down to boost our attendance. Even while I was talking to him, I could hear myself doing that singsongy thing in my head—you know, ‘I know something that you don’t know.’ But it seems I couldn’t wait to tell him. Then he got this weird expression on his face, and he goes, ‘Interesting.’ That’s when I felt that maybe I had said too much. And then today when you told me that the bus wasn’t coming, I thought I might have had something to do with messing things up.”
Maura Beth quickly reassured her with a couple of pats on the shoulder. “Believe me, you had nothing to do with it, Renette. Don’t worry too much about our illustrious councilman and his sidekicks. It’s always been up to us to keep the doors of this library open, and tonight’s the night we can make that happen. But in the future, I’d only offer to check out the councilman’s books for him—that is, if he ever comes around for that. Nothing else.”
Renette gave her boss a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’ll remember that next time.” Then she hesitated as her expression grew slightly more serious. “There was something else I wanted to tell you. It’s strictly good news, though. I’ve talked two of my girlfriends into coming with me tonight. We’ve all been rereading To Kill a Mockingbird to get ready so we don’t come off as a bunch of teenaged airheads. So I just wanted you to know that I’m doing my part.”
This time Maura Beth gave her a big hug. “You’ve always done your part, sweetie. You’re the best front desk clerk and assistant I’ve ever had. But don’t tell Emma—you might hurt her feelings.”
“No, of course not. Emma’s a dear. She’s just not a reader.”
Then Maura Beth sat back and took a deep breath. “Well, we’re just a couple of hours away from our defining moment, I think. I’d like nothing better than to clone myself so I could wish us good luck.”
Maura Beth had taken it upon herself to greet people inside the front door of the library, playing the gracious hostess starting around a quarter to seven. It was also going to be her way of keeping an accurate head count for the eventual showdown with Councilman Sparks, who was already sampling the buffet. As it happened, it was Renette and her girlfriends, Deborah Benedict and Liz Trumble, who were the first recipients of her hospitality.
“Help yourself to food and drink over there, young ladies,” Maura Beth said after the introductions. “Renette, you’ll show them the way, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Then she leaned in to whisper in Maura Beth’s ear. “I see lots of people eating and drinking already.”
“Those are all the book club members, a couple of their relatives from Nashville, and the councilmen,” Maura Beth whispered back. “Don’t get too excited yet.”
After another couple of minutes had passed, Jeremy sauntered in with his three New Gallatin Academy students and the parents who were chaperoning.
“Let me introduce these studious young men who would do any teacher proud,” he announced. “We have here just champing at the bit to express their literary insights—Mr. Graham Hartley, Mr. Vernon Garner, and Mr. Burke Williams. We also have Burke’s parents, Charles and Louise Williams, who are here to enjoy the evening.”
Maura Beth made her manners to the contingent, and Jeremy finished all the hoopla with a peck on the cheek for her. “As I told you over the phone, six is better than nothing,” he managed out of the corner of his mouth.
She pulled away slightly for her best smile. “You and I will talk later, Mr. Jeremy McShay of New Gallatin Academy.”
By five to seven, no one else had appeared, however, and the sweat began to bead across Maura Beth’s forehead. Surely the handful of people who had shown up so far were not going to be the extent of the turnout. Perhaps people were caught in traffic. She nearly laughed out loud at that one. What on earth was she thinking? There was no traffic in peaceful little Cherico. Never had been, never would be.
Seven o’clock arrived, and Maura Beth continued to grasp at straws. Maybe the rest were just going to be late. Yes, fashionably late. That had to be the answer.
Then, finally, one minute past seven, more warm bodies. In this case—the Crumpton sisters. They made a grand entrance, indeed, with Mamie leading the way as usual. They were both overdressed for the occasion in floor-length ball gowns and matching clutches—Mamie in gold and Marydell in silver— giving the unmistakable impression that they had shown up principally to preen and be admired lavishly and often.
“Why, look at all this excitement! I had no idea there’d be so many people here,” Mamie began, surveying the lobby and striking a dramatic pose just inside the front door. “I thought this would be more like our ‘Who’s Who?’ meetings. Just a few of us hardy souls with a taste for genealogy and the twists and turns of local history. But Marydell and I are pleased to alter our Sunday evening routine to lend a hand, aren’t we, sister dear?”
“Oh, yes,” came the answer, along with a predictably weak smile.
Even before Maura Beth had a chance to reply, however, Councilman Sparks stepped up to intercept the sisters by executing a pretentious little bow in front of them and then taking each of them by the arm. “May I have the honor of escorting such a delightful pair of ladies?”
“It seems you’ve assumed the honor before asking,” Mamie fired back. “But exactly where are we going?”
“To the buffet table, perhaps?”
Mamie gently pulled her arm away and looked him straight in the eye. “Durden, I believe I’d like to catch my breath first. Perhaps find a nice seat for the proceedings.”
“Then let me at least assist you with that,” he continued.
“Enjoy yourselves. Thanks so much for coming!” Maura Beth called out, watching them all move away and shaking her head. She knew quite well that Councilman Sparks was nothing if not deferential to money and social position, particularly when it lived on his street and contributed to his former campaigns.
Then, a trio of women whom Maura Beth did not recognize entered with wide eyes and a hint of confusion in their faces. One was young and slim with her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, while the other two were matronly and somewhat overweight.
The slim woman spoke up immediately. “Hi, there. I’m Donna Gordon, and these are my friends, Paula Newhouse and Bettye Carter. Sorry we’re late. First, we couldn’t locate the library, and then we had trouble finding a parking space. We had to walk here from two blocks away.”
Maura Beth quickly introduced herself, maintaining a smile while her mind raced. Of course. That was probably why people were showing up late. No off-street parking. And Councilman Sparks had turned her down two years ago in no uncertain terms when she had inquired about creating a parking lot next door.
“. . . and we found out about your program because we’re all fans of The Becca Broccoli Show,” Donna Gordon was saying when Maura Beth focused in again. “Not a show went by when she didn’t mention you. We thought it might be something fun and different to do. We hadn’t thought about the library in years.”
Maura Beth beamed. “Well, I’m so pleased you decided to come. Meanwhile, if you’d like to meet and chat with Becca, she’s the short blonde standing next to the big guy in the cowboy boots over at the buffet table. And, yes, that’s her Stout Fella in all his downsized glory.”
The trio thanked her and headed over, making all sorts of excited noises under their breath.
Maura Beth began to feel more comfortable. The head count had risen to fourteen, not counting the club members and the councilmen. Could a respectable number be far behind?
In fact, a steady succession began to stream in. Terra Munrow was all possessive smiles introducing her boyfriend with the conspicuous but undecipherable tattoo on his neck. “This is my Ricky I’ve been telling you about, Maura Beth. Do you have any books he could check out about motorcycles since he’s a biker and all?”
“We sure do. I’d be happy to help you locate them any time you come in, Ricky. And by the way, Terra, we probably have a romance novel or two with guys on motorcycles in the plot.”
“Doubly righteous!” Ricky exclaimed while raising a fist in the air; then the two of them were off to the buffet table.
But nothing compared with the group of ten led by James Hannigan that showed up next from The Cherico Market. Once again, as Maura Beth had surmised, finding convenient parking spaces had been the culprit for their tardiness.
“We all ended up two streets over. I kept hoping you wouldn’t start without us,” Mr. Hannigan concluded.
“I wouldn’t have dreamed of it.”
Then Mr. Hannigan leaned in with another of his friendly winks. “Good. Because we wanted to support our Peanut Butter Cracker Lady at all costs. And it turns out I’ve got some readers in the store. They just haven’t made the time to find their way to the library before. Guess you lit a fire under ’em with your book club to-do.”
When The Cherico Market contingent had finally dispersed, Maura Beth realized that the head count was inching toward thirty. They were probably going to need more chairs—and quickly. So she temporarily abandoned her station and hurried across the room to enlist Renette’s help.
“Put down your plate for now, sweetie,” she told her. “We’re going to be scrambling around after all. Quick, think. How many more chairs do we have in the closet?”
Renette squinted for a moment, moving her lips as she counted. “I think six, maybe seven of the folding. Oh, but we have eight more with the soft cushions in the meeting room.”
“Good catch!” Maura Beth exclaimed. “I forgot about those.”
“If this keeps up, looks like you’ll get your standing room only wish,” Renette added as they headed toward the closet.
Nor was Maura Beth’s urgency unwarranted. At least a dozen more people came through the front door. Among Connie’s lakeside neighbors, the Brimleys and the Milners kept their promises to attend. Then Mr. Place walked in with his mother, who was a bit on the fragile side but still had kind, sparkling eyes.
“I’m Ardenia Bedloe,” she said to Maura Beth while extending her hand and smiling graciously. “I know you’re not confused by that because my son told you all about changing his name, but I just wanted to thank you for introducing him to Miz Lattimore down at The Twinkle.”
“Oh, my friend Periwinkle is deliriously happy with all those delicious pastries he makes. His éclairs have been wowing everyone this evening, including myself.”
Mr. Place thanked her and then suddenly spotted Miss Voncille across the room. “Mama, I’d like to go speak to someone over by the food table and introduce her to you after all these years. She’s the lady standing next to the white-haired gentleman.”
Ardenia trained her thick glasses in the direction of his index finger. “Who is she, baby?”
“Miss Voncille Nettles, my history teacher that first year Cherico High was integrated.”
“Oh, yes,” Ardenia replied, a smile exploding across her face. “I remember now. You liked her best.”
“Please go on over and make yourselves at home,” Maura Beth added. “I’m sure she’d be delighted to see you both. And help yourselves to the food and drink.”
Among the last six or seven people that showed, two more cited Becca’s radio program as their inspiration, while the others credited a flyer from such businesses as The Cherico Market, The Twinkle, Cherico Tresses, or the library itself. Happily, The Cherry Cola Book Club was going to be playing to a full house.
Councilman Sparks took a dim view of the party going on full-blast after he had finished schmoozing the Crumpton sisters. Everyone present was eating, chatting, or laughing the way people do on New Year’s Eve or some other carefree occasion. It particularly annoyed him that the library suddenly seemed to have discarded its perennial “just growing mold” personality.
Momentarily, Chunky intruded on his leader’s pique. “Man, this sure is a helluva lot a’ people in here!”
“It doesn’t look good from our point of view,” Councilman Sparks replied under his breath, making sure that no one was within earshot. “I’d guess there are between forty and fifty people in this room. We’ve never had a budget hearing when that many people showed up.”
Chunky leaned in and responded in a half-whisper. “I know you told me not to, but I checked out the license plates around the library anyway. Didn’t see but a couple from out of state, both from Tennessee. Davidson County, I believe it was. But there was a bunch from other Mississippi counties. I can rattle off the different ones if you want.”
“And no bus anywhere to be seen,” Gopher Joe added.
“Oh, never mind all that now. Both of you just go get something more to eat and try to mingle.”
Something told Councilman Sparks that he had better monitor the situation closely, however, so he kept both of his charges within an approachable radius. As it turned out, his concerns were definitely warranted.
“Hi!” Chunky said, immediately approaching one of Renette’s girlfriends even before he’d helped himself to a plate of food. “What’s your name and where do you live?”
The ordinarily extroverted Deborah Benedict shrank visibly from his directness, managing an imitation of a smile. “I might ask the same of you.”
“Well, I hope you voted for me. I’m E. A. Badham, one of your city councilmen. But folks call me ‘Chunky’ most of the time,” he continued, while patting his bulging belly. “I guess you can see why.”
To her credit, Deborah did not pull away further, but neither did she answer his questions. “Well, then, Chunky, I think you should help yourself to more of this delicious food I’m sampling here. I’ve seen you make several trips already, if I’m not mistaken.”
The lurking Councilman Sparks soon intervened, giving Deborah a nod and a perfunctory smile. “If you’ll excuse us for a second, young lady.” Then he pulled Chunky aside and lowered his voice. “Change of plans. You and Gopher Joe just concentrate on stuffing your faces. Forget the socializing. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
There was no denying, however, that most everyone else had the knack of socializing down pat. Especially Maura Beth. From afar, Councilman Sparks watched her flitting around the room with such ease that he actually had to turn away at one point. The library was pulsating with an energy it had never possessed before, and it was all due to the outside-the-box efforts of this unusual woman who just refused to go away. More importantly, it would be difficult to shut down her pride and joy with all this to her credit.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Maura Beth was saying to Becca. They had managed to slip away into the privacy of the meeting room, closing the door behind them shortly before the actual review was about to begin. “Of course I’d be delighted to have you and Stout Fella here doing cooking demonstrations together every month. We need to get as much activity going in the library as possible.”
Becca exhaled and thought one more time about what she had just proposed. “I know it’ll help you out. And Stout Fella promised even before he got out of the hospital in Nashville that he’d do his part, too.”
Maura Beth gave Becca a thoughtful glance. “So what do you think you should call these meetings?”
Becca took her time before a dramatic intake of air. “How about ‘Becca Broccoli in the Flesh’—you know, for those who just can’t get enough of the radio show?”
“I certainly like your idea of becoming visible after all those years of just being a voice on the radio.”
“You know what gave me the idea?” Becca said, smartly raising an eyebrow. “It was all the conversations I’ve just had at the buffet table with some of my fans. They kept saying over and over how thrilled they were to see me in the flesh. One of them—I believe her name was Donna—said that putting my face with my voice made me seem all the more real. So I thought, ‘Why not meet more of my fans in person and help the library at the same time?’ ”
Maura Beth was nodding enthusiastically now. “I bet it’ll work out great. The only thing I’ll need to do is make sure you don’t conflict with ‘Who’s Who?’ and Miss Voncille. We don’t want to start a turf war, but I have to admit the idea of people fighting over using the library is something I’ve been wanting for a long time.”
Becca smiled pleasantly and then reached over to gently grasp Maura Beth’s hand. “There was something else I wanted to say to you. I’ve been meaning to for a while. You don’t know how much it meant to me—and especially Stout Fella—that you came up to Nashville to visit us in the hospital when you did. That entire balloon thing you invented just brightened our days and nights, and we needed something out of the ordinary to get us through it all.”
“Oh, it was nothing,” Maura Beth insisted, breaking her grip and waving her off. “I think that little trip helped me out as much as it helped you. I needed to clear my head.”
“But there was more to it than that,” Becca continued. “I was such a mess when Justin had his heart attack and I thought I might lose him. But all of you rallied around me and kept me going. Connie was the reassuring voice of medical authority, and she and Douglas piled me into the backseat of their car and wrapped me up in a blanket of kindness all the way up to Nashville. His brother and sister-in-law in Brentwood were just as soothing to me, and then you inspired all those balloon bouquets. I remember turning to Stout Fella one evening as he was propped up in bed and saying, ‘Nothing bad can happen with all these pretty, playful things floating around us. No one’s ever sad at a children’s party.’ ”
Then the two women hugged. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Maura Beth told her. She glanced at her watch and gave a little gasp. “But I think we need to get started. Our big moment has finally arrived.”
After Becca had made her initial announcement about the upcoming “In the Flesh” meetings at the library to the delight of her fans, Maura Beth took back the podium and opened the program in earnest.
“I trust all of you have enjoyed plenty of this delicious food, courtesy of various members of The Cherry Cola Book Club,” she began after introducing herself. “It’s one of the perks you’ll enjoy if you join us, which we hope all of you will do. But the time has come for us to tackle our Southern classic novel, To Kill a Mockingbird, written by Harper Lee and published in 1960. As everyone surely knows, this was her only work, but it won the Pulitzer Prize for her, and the film version won several Academy Awards, including Best Actor of 1962 for Gregory Peck.” She paused to point toward the Gregory Peck posters and waited for a ripple of female sighs and buzzing to dissipate before again consulting her notes.
“For those who are visiting us for the first time, we do things a bit differently here in The Cherry Cola Book Club,” she continued. “Anyone can summarize a plot and express emotions like admiration, disapproval, or even indifference as a result. Such is the subjective nature of literature. But we prefer to relate that plot to our own lives or even wider issues. So I’m going to suggest that we discuss To Kill a Mockingbird tonight in the context of the changes that have occurred here in our beloved South since its publication. That said, do I have a volunteer to go first?”
Jeremy’s hand went up immediately. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to propose that one of my students begins this discussion with a poem he wrote right after reading the novel.”
“I think that would be a lovely beginning,” Maura Beth replied, stepping aside and smiling at the fresh-faced New Gallatin Academy contingent sitting on the front row in their navy blue blazers and red ties.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jeremy continued while getting to his feet. “I’d like to introduce to you Mr. Burke Williams of Nashville, Tennessee.”
There was polite applause as the lanky young man with big ears and a deferential demeanor rose and took his long strides toward the podium.
“Thank you,” he began, after taking his notes out of his pocket. “Before I read my poem, I’d like to say a few words. My teacher, Mr. McShay, told our class all about The Cherry Cola Book Club, and I wanted to be here no matter what. I know I’m only sixteen and don’t know much about the real world, but after I’d finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird, I felt like I at least knew a little something. I live in the new millennium, not in the 1930s when the novel is supposed to take place, or even in the 1960s when it was published; but To Kill a Mockingbird was like a time machine for me. It enabled me to understand what life was like for a wrongly accused black man like Tom Robinson. I understood how things worked back then and how easy it was for justice to be swept under the rug. So, this is my poem in honor of what To Kill a Mockingbird did for me.”
He cleared his throat and looked up from his prepared speech. “I know this part by heart.” The audience laughed gently and he acknowledged them with a grateful smile. “Okay. Here goes: ‘On To Kill a Mockingbird,’ by Burke Williams:
The Southern town of ancient birth
Lies prostrate and fervid under summer’s sun;
The children of Atticus play in the yard,
Engrossed in the realms of fantasy and fun;
Then the tranquil streets grow frigid with anguish
As a man of color struggles to live
Under the wing of Atticus’s justice—
Of all the benevolence one man can give;
The wrath of prejudice flows through the veins
Of those who would try the innocent man;
And here, as o’er earth, life’s chances unjust—
Despite brave attempts to fashion a stand;
But yet as the stars on the face of God’s sky,
Subtly as sweet scents of roses in bloom,
The town slips again into everyday life,
Forgetting the storm and the tears and the doom.”
The polite reception of a few minutes earlier became healthy applause, and the young man blushed, hanging his head at first. But Jeremy’s hand signals urging him to lift his chin had an immediate effect, and Mr. Burke Williams accepted his moment in the sun with an ingratiating, boyish smile.
“That was beautifully done, Mr. Williams!” Maura Beth exclaimed, after he had resumed his seat and the reaction had finally died down. “Your insights show a great deal of maturity.”
Before Maura Beth could ask for another volunteer, however, Mr. Place stood up, gently waving his hand. “If you don’t mind, Miz Mayhew, I have a little something I’d like to contribute. Could I speak next?”
“Of course, come right on up.”
Once he was comfortable behind the podium, Mr. Place caught his mother’s eye with a smile and began. “Ladies and gentlemen, although Cherico is my hometown, I didn’t know what to expect when I left Memphis after losing my job as a pastry chef at the Grand Shelby Hotel. I’d been working at that for decades and would have retired at it up there, too. But you may have read that the hotel went out of business and was torn down recently. So that brought me back home to live with my mama for a while until I could find another job.”
He paused to acknowledge first Maura Beth and then Periwinkle with nods and hand gestures. “I found one a lot quicker than I thought I would, thanks to Miz Mayhew here and Miz Lattimore sitting right there on the front row. In case some of you didn’t know, I’m now the pastry chef down at The Twinkle. As we like to say here in the South, ‘Y’all drop by and see me sometime, ya hear?’ ”
A spate of warm laughter erupted, and Mr. Place wagged his brows until it tailed off. “So that brings me to our topic tonight—how things have changed here in our South since To Kill a Mockingbird appeared. I saw the movie when I was a boy. That’s what I want to talk to y’all about next. It played here in Cherico at the old Starbright Theater on Commerce Street, which as we all know, got torn down a while ago. You have to go somewhere else to see movies these days. At the time, my mama made extra money for us by babysitting for white families, and she’d take me with her now and then. I made friends with the son of one of those families. You good folks might remember the Wannamakers over on Painter Street? Since I got back, I found out they don’t live here now.”
That produced a buzz of recognition among the crowd, and Mr. Place waited for it to die down. “Anyway, I became good friends with Jamie Wannamaker, who was about my age, and we played together out in his yard, doing things that little boys do together like catching fireflies and hide-and-seek. Then, my Mama saw where To Kill a Mockingbird was coming to the Starbright. That was back when the Daily Cherico was still in business, and she read an article all about it in the paper. She told me, ‘Baby, I’m taking you to see that movie. I believe we both need to see it!’ ”
Mr. Place paused and smiled thoughtfully, shaking his head at the same time. “I didn’t understand at the time why she felt that way. Now, of course, I do. But the world is full of strange coincidences, I’ve found out. Don’t know why they happen, but when they do, there’s always a lesson to be learned, it seems. Turns out, the very afternoon my mama took me to see To Kill a Mockingbird at the Starbright, Miz Wannamaker decided to take Jamie to see it, too. Back then, everybody bought tickets at the booth in front, but only the white people got to go in that way. The coloreds, as they called us back then, went around to the side door to enter the colored section. Some of you might remember that it was much smaller than the white side, but there was a thin wall separating the two.”
Again, there was a ripple of noise throughout the audience. “I’ll never forget what happened next. Jamie said to his mother right after he’d spied me, ‘Oh, this’ll be so much fun. We can all sit together.’ And she had to tell him that he couldn’t sit with me, and I couldn’t sit with him, and you could tell she didn’t want to go into an explanation of the white and colored thing—just that there’d be a wall between us. Then Jamie started crying, and he wouldn’t stop. It was the strangest thing. I was the one who felt real bad for him. I was the one comforting him. You see, I’d been to the Starbright before, and I knew where the coloreds were allowed to sit. So I said, ‘Jamie, maybe we can’t sit together, but we can be right next to each other. We just have to pretend the wall isn’t there.’ And he said, ‘But how will we know where to sit if we can’t see?’ And this is what I came up with. I decided that we’d move slowly along either side of the wall, row by row, and make a pounding noise each time. When we’d both found a seat we liked on the edge, we would pound five times. Fortunately, both our mothers didn’t make a fuss and let us do it. But I’ve never forgotten all the trouble we had to go to just to pretend we were together. Today, anyone can go to the movies over in Corinth or up to Memphis, and they don’t give a hoot about anything, not even how much noise you make. I sure wish they’d crack down on that—and the prices you have to pay for candy and popcorn.”
That produced some much-needed laughter. Then Mr. Place continued, “So it’s my belief that To Kill a Mockingbird helped tear down that wall in the theater between the whites and the coloreds. Everywhere else, too. That book and that movie helped to make all the fair play we take for granted now possible, and that’s pretty much what I had to say here tonight. That, and it’s good to be home again in Cherico with my mama and a great job. And don’t forget to come by and sample my pastries at The Twinkle. Even if you’re on a diet, treat yourself once in a while.”
A round of applause even more vigorous than that for Burke Williams erupted, as Mr. Place headed back to his seat, nodding graciously all the way.
“Thank you for that interesting and heartfelt testimony, Mr. Place!” Maura Beth exclaimed. “So much food for thought along with good food to eat.”
Then Miss Voncille stood up. “I think all this has inspired me to contribute something, too.”
“By all means, step up. We welcome what you have to say.”
Miss Voncille approached the podium with gusto as Maura Beth stepped aside. “I had no idea I would be saying anything tonight. I’d made up my mind just to sit and listen. But as young Mr. Williams was talking, I realized that I, too, had a story to tell. It’s about my long career as a schoolteacher here at Cherico High. Looking out into the crowd tonight, I can see many familiar faces that I taught. Only, some of the names seem to have changed. When you were my student, Justin Brachle, Stout Fella had yet to see the light of day. And your wife, Becca Heflin, was a few years away from her alter alias of Becca Broccoli on the radio. Then there’s Edward Badham, who now goes by the name of ‘Chunky,’ I believe; and ‘Gopher Joe’ sitting right next to him is the former Josephus Martin. Of course, I must point out Councilman Durden Sparks, who decided to leave his name alone.”
Everyone mentioned was nodding and chuckling, and Miss Voncille paused briefly for a breath. “But let me not forget Mr. Parker Place, who went by the name of Joe Sam Bedloe when I taught him. He was, in fact, a member of my very first integrated classroom, and a very good student he was.”
Mr. Place smiled big at his former teacher and gave her a neat little salute. “And you were a great teacher, Miss Voncille. Tough, but great. But I don’t remember being all that good a student in your history class. I had trouble remembering dates.”
“But you were attentive, and you tried hard. Anyway, none of that is really the main point,” she continued, returning his smile. “I wanted to confess something here in public for the first time. I remember the fall Cherico High was getting ready for the first wave of integration. Of course, all of my fellow teachers were white, and some of them were very apprehensive, including myself. Mrs. Johnnie-Dell Crews was the most vocal in the teachers’ lounge. ‘I don’t know what to expect,’ she would say all the time while we were having our morning coffee and doughnuts. ‘Do you think there’ll be any trouble with the coloreds?’ ”
Miss Voncille seemed a bit hesitant to continue but finally gathered herself. “That was the way people talked back then, and it was definitely on our minds. So I’m here to confess that there were moments when I allowed myself to succumb to my worst fears, and I’m not proud of it. There were those at the time who thought the world would come to an end because Cherico High was going to be integrated. But the world kept on spinning when it finally happened. I found that I had worried needlessly, and when I got students in my class like Joe Sam—I mean, Mr. Place—I felt ashamed that I had doubted myself and my ability to teach even for an instant. Helping him learn was what it was all about—the same goal I’d always had for every student I ever taught.”
Mr. Place raised his hand, almost as if he were back in the classroom, but did not wait to be called on to speak. “Miss Voncille, I can tell you what it was like from my point of view, if you’d like to hear it.”
“Please tell us, Joe Sam—oops, there I go again. Sorry, I just can’t seem to get used to all these name changes.”
He waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I was just as nervous as you and the other teachers were. My mama sitting right here next to me tonight said to hold my head up high, be calm and respectful no matter what anyone said to me or called me, and to do my best, but I was still scared. There’d been killings and bombings in the state in the years leading up to integrating the school, so that was always in the back of my mind. Nothing terrible like that ever happened to me or my family, thank God, but we had friends in other parts of the South that had some close calls. But the thing I remember most from my first day was the way you smiled at me when you called the roll in homeroom and came to my name, Miss Voncille. There was something about the way you said, ‘Joe Sam Bedloe?’ that made me feel just like the other students. You pronounced it so it didn’t stand out, like I had always been around. Like I belonged there. It made me relax and pay attention from then on to my lessons, not some worst-case scenario running around my head.”
Miss Voncille nodded approvingly. “Yes, it was a time for putting out feelers for all of us. But even though my subject was history, I read To Kill a Mockingbird when it first came out and Miss Nita Bellows in the English department had recommended it to me so highly. Looking back on it, I’m convinced that reading it before integration actually occurred a few years later helped prepare me for the changes to come. I believe the novel is full of a certain prescience in that way. My final thought is that To Kill a Mockingbird seems to be saying to you, ‘This might have been the way things were at one time here in the South, but these words will see to it that they don’t stay like that much longer.’ ”
“And I think we would all agree things have changed for the better,” Maura Beth pointed out. “Your analysis is certainly well-taken. Does anyone have a further comment or angle to discuss?”
“I like the prescience angle,” Jeremy added from his chair. “I’ve always told my students that the novel was an instant classic when it was released. What that really means is that it tapped into something that had been on a lot of people’s minds over the years and verbalized it precisely. I believe it prepared the country for the turmoil to come, as Miss Voncille and Mr. Place have expressed in a very personal way. It was a novel both very much before its time and right on time.”
Miss Voncille nodded graciously and said, “I can’t top that.” Then she stepped away from the podium to generous applause.
Mr. Place rose again briefly once Miss Voncille had resumed her seat. “My mother, Mrs. Ardenia Bedloe, would like to say something at this time.”
“By all means,” Maura Beth said, gesturing graciously in her direction. “Would you like to take the podium?”
Ardenia shook her head. “I believe I’ll stay right here, if you don’t mind. My arthritis has been acting up lately.”
“Then please go right ahead.”
“Well, when I was growing up in this town a long time ago now, I wasn’t allowed to check out books in this very library. I wanted to. I wanted to read more fairy tales and look at more picture books after I’d finished with the ones Santa Claus brought me for Christmas, but I couldn’t get a library card. Nobody in my family could. That was before Miz Annie Scott came in the sixties and way before To Kill a Mockingbird, even. So to be here this evening enjoying the food and the company and feeling so welcome the way I do is the sweetest thing in the world to me. I don’t believe I thought things would ever change back when I was a little girl, but they have. They really have.”
Maura Beth felt something catching in her throat as she responded. “Thank you, Mrs. Bedloe. I’m sure everyone here appreciates your candor. As for myself, I’ve been working very hard to make this library an integral part of Cherico for everyone. This book club is my most comprehensive effort yet. I’ve been library director for six years, and in many respects I now consider myself a Chericoan. But there are things some of you probably don’t know. If we still had a newspaper, you likely would have gotten wind of it by now. But since we don’t, I feel it’s my duty to inform you that this library is in real danger of being closed down at the end of the year. It should come as no surprise to hear that Cherico is not exactly swimming in money, and our City Council will have to make some tough decisions in the years ahead. One of them may be to stop funding the library and use the taxpayers’ money elsewhere.”
Maura Beth’s revelation was creating quite a stir throughout the gathering, causing Councilman Sparks to rise from his seat. “Unfortunately, what Miz Mayhew has just said is correct. The library is a huge drag on our budget, and we’d like to put that money to better use by creating an industrial park to attract new jobs to the community.”
“But if I may continue, Councilman,” Maura Beth said, careful to keep a pleasant tone in her voice, “what I wanted to emphasize was that this event tonight proves that the library can be a much more valuable community asset than it has been for many decades. If it can regularly accommodate groups like ‘Who’s Who in Cherico?’ and the proposed ‘Becca Broccoli in the Flesh,’ and, of course, The Cherry Cola Book Club, it is performing a useful service. Over time, that usefulness will expand and become more essential, and the taxpayers will more than get their money’s worth. Those who support the library for these and other purposes such as student research after school hours and adults hunting for job leads should make their views known to Councilman Sparks and City Hall as soon as possible.”
“What about right now?” Miss Voncille put in quickly, waving her hand energetically.
Knowing better than to cross her, Councilman Sparks deferred. “Go ahead, then, Miss Voncille. Speak your piece to us.”
“I will do just that, Durden. You can’t brush aside us library users so casually. I’ve had a wonderful ally in Maura Beth Mayhew for my ‘Who’s Who?’ organization from the day she arrived here in Cherico. Yes, Annie Scott was cooperative, too, but she was never as pleasant about it the way Maura Beth has been. Annie always acted like I was bothering her, intruding on her precious time, whereas Maura Beth has given me the respect a devoted daughter would have.”
Surprisingly, Mamie Crumpton was out of her seat. “My sister and I always look forward to coming to the library and hearing what Miss Voncille has to say. We enjoy the sense of continuity. Our parents were big library users. And, Durden, a little birdie told me not too long ago that you were seriously considering this library closure. Of course, I was shocked, and you might as well know that such a move would not be without consequences, I assure you.”
Councilman Sparks dropped his trademark smile as he responded. “I understand and respect what you’re saying, Mamie, but these club functions can easily be accommodated elsewhere, and, I might add, with more space available in the homes of private citizens, to name at least one alternative. Tonight, this library appears to be bursting at the seams, but it might also be considered something of a dog and pony show. Emphasis on the show. I think we all know very well that the library usually just sits here collecting dust, your genealogy meetings excepted.”
Maura Beth intervened, feeling the anger rising in her blood but managing to steady herself. “With all due respect, Councilman, I think what has been discussed here tonight so far has been substantive. We’ve brought some very diverse elements of the community together to reflect upon their shared history and, by the way, just have an old-fashioned good time together. How many things can you say that about? I think The Cherry Cola Book Club has a promising future, and I trust it will take place right here.”
Surprisingly, it was Becca who took the floor next. “If I could just say something. Mrs. Bedloe triggered some pleasant memories for me. I’m so sorry she couldn’t come to the library and use it in her day, but I could and did in mine. My mother enrolled me in summer reading every year, and I had a ball. At the time, Miz Scott gave out blue ribbons if we read so many books between the first of June and the end of July. If you fell short, you still got a red ribbon. Let me tell you, I still have every ribbon of every color I won tucked into one of my scrapbooks up in the attic somewhere. It would be a shame not to let Cherico’s current crop of children earn those kinds of memories during all the summers ahead of us.”
But Councilman Sparks would not back down. “I don’t want to come off as the bad guy here, Miz Brachle, but the library is just not an essential service. There are other departments that everyone here would agree we can never do without, such as police, utilities, water, sewage, and fire protection. On the bright side, if our proposed Cherico Industrial Park does bring in industries the way we hope it will, maybe then with more taxes to collect we can consider reopening the library down the road.”
“But closing it isn’t a done deal, is it?!” Donna Gordon exclaimed out of nowhere. “My friends and I were looking forward to coming to Becca Broccoli’s demonstrations, and we were even going to start checking out some cookbooks. We browsed through the stacks before the meeting got started and we really liked the selection.”
“Yeah! You can’t cut us off just when we’re getting started!” Terra Munrow complained. “I spotted some off-the-wall hairstyling books I’d like to read, and my boyfriend found a motorcycle repair manual he wants to check out when he comes back tomorrow to get his library card. Please don’t dangle the library in front of us and then snatch it away!”
Locke Linwood got to his feet next. “And I want to say that The Cherico Library and I go back a long way. When I was a little boy, I was hooked on all the Hardy Boys mysteries. I checked out and read every one because at the time I thought I wanted to be a detective when I grew up. Of course, I ended up selling life insurance instead, but I never forgot the sense of wonder and adventure that those books instilled in me. And the library helped sustain me later in life when the sailing got a big rough.” Then he sucked in air and lifted his chin with authority. “When my dear wife got terminally ill a few years ago, I checked out as many books as I could find on being a caregiver. I did what I could for her all the way to the end. I’d like to think that the answers I found would always be available to others in their time of need.”
Locke’s testimony inspired James Hannigan to stand up. “He’s right, you know. When my mother passed away, I was having a tough time accepting it. It was so traumatic for me because she died unexpectedly in her sleep. But then my pastor suggested that after I’d finished praying, I go to the library and see if they had any books on dealing with grief.” He paused to gesture at Maura Beth. “And Miz Mayhew, you had several for me to choose from. I checked them all out, and as I read them, I began to see that other people had gone through this and come out at the other end ready to get on with their lives. I was able to make my peace, and I accomplished that with a little prayer and my library card. That’s another reason I was so eager to help you out.”
Maura Beth finally stepped into the respectful lull that followed. “I’m fighting back tears when I say that everything I’ve just heard from all of you defines what a library is and what it does for a community. All of you are true friends of the library. I’m not sure you can put a price on that, Councilman Sparks.”
“Perhaps not,” he answered with no trace of his customary arrogance. “But the City Council has to consider the big picture in running this town. Next year’s budget will be finalized exactly two weeks from tomorrow. Money is tight, and we’re looking for ways to funnel more of it into Cherico. We’ve had the industrial park on the front burner for some time now, but we’ll make our final decision on the library at that time. All of you are welcome to attend.”
For a few seconds, Maura Beth felt like she’d lost the battle. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. How could anyone not be impressed with everything that had gone on in the library tonight? She had expected a clear decision in her favor and was temporarily at a loss for words.
But Miss Voncille had no trouble expressing herself. “I’ll get a letter and e-mail campaign going, Durden Sparks. I’ll rustle up a list of my former pupils and put them on the job. Then you’ll have to keep the library open!”
“Miss Voncille,” he replied in a tone that was semi-conciliatory, “I have not made my decision yet, and all opinions will be welcomed as the Council reviews the matter. But have you considered that the town of Cherico can do everything a little better with more revenue flowing in? Meanwhile, using library money to pay for movie posters of Gregory Peck seems a bit extravagant to me.”
Maura Beth motioned for Miss Voncille to resume her seat and was somehow able to conjure up a smile. “You seem to have covered all bases, Councilman Sparks. But I want it noted as a matter of public record that Connie McShay, the treasurer of The Cherry Cola Book Club, paid for those posters of Gregory Peck with her own money. They didn’t cost the library a cent. So now, if you don’t have any objections, I think we’d like to wind up our discussion of To Kill a Mockingbird.”
“Of course,” he answered, turning to head toward the door with Chunky and Gopher Joe. “We’re at cross-purposes regarding the library, but I’m sure we both want what’s best for Cherico. Now, if you’ll excuse us, please.”
Maura Beth watched the three of them leave the building, while the Scarlett side of her that she had been cultivating so meticulously seethed with frustration. “Just don’t count me out!” she exclaimed finally.
“I never have!” Councilman Sparks returned just before making his exit.
Some of the crowd moved forward to chat with and console Maura Beth, but the words seemed to blend together after a while. One remark stood out, however, when Jeremy said, “I truly wish I could stay a little longer to help you figure out what to do next, but I have to drive the boys over to the hotel in Corinth. Burke Williams wanted to say something to you before we left, though.”
The lanky young poet approached Maura Beth shyly, barely able to look her in the eye, but his message struck home. “I hope you don’t think this is out of left field, Miz Mayhew, but I keep thinking about the character of Boo Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird. How he quietly saved the day there at the end when everything seemed so desperate, I mean. Maybe someone or something like that will happen for you and your library so you’ll stay open.”
Maura Beth gave him a hug and smiled as he blushed crimson. “Thank you for that, young man.” Then she pulled back and turned to Jeremy. “And thank you for bringing these bright young students of yours to The Cherry Cola Book Club. To know that they exist, caring about literature the way they do, gladdens this librarian’s heart.”
Most of the people left shortly after the unexpected showdown between Councilman Sparks and Maura Beth, but the Brachles, McShays, Locke Linwood, Miss Voncille, and Periwinkle had remained for an impromptu strategy session. Mr. Place wanted to participate as well, but his mother had grown a bit weary, so he understandably drove her home after wishing the core of the book club the best of luck.
“We’ve got City Hall on the defensive,” Maura Beth was explaining to the group gathered around the meeting room table with their serious demeanors in place. “But we can’t let up. All of that testimony we heard tonight on the library’s behalf was terrific and reassuring, but what we need now is signatures. I say we circulate petitions to keep the library open and then present it to the City Council. Those signatures represent votes, and if I know anything about politicians, they’ll pay attention to that when they ignore everything else.”
Connie was the first to come on board with enthusiasm. “Absolutely. And we have the perfect starter list, since we asked everyone to write their names, phone numbers, and e-mail addresses on the bulletin board sheet. They can be our first contacts.”
Maura Beth smiled and shook her head at the same time. “Well, not quite, Connie. Our patron list will be our first call. But tonight’s list won’t be far behind.”
The suggestion gathered further momentum. “I could put up one petition at The Twinkle,” Periwinkle added. “And we could ask the other businesses that have been helping us out with the publicity to do the same.”
Maura Beth brightened further. “I bet James Hannigan will make more P.A. announcements for us at The Cherico Market. He’s a sweetheart, and he really rounded up his troops tonight. I nearly cried when he told that story about his mother.”
“Same here,” Becca added. “But we’ll publicize the petitions on the show, won’t we, Stout Fella?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered in his most playful tone.
“And I was serious about contacting my former students,” Miss Voncille added. “I’ve kept in touch with some of the ones that never left Cherico.”
“Every signature counts,” Maura Beth answered.
“Was it just me, or did y’all think that Councilman Sparks might have softened up there at the end?” Douglas wanted to know.
Maura Beth looked amused and caught his gaze, every inch a Scarlett sizing up a formidable situation. “Douglas, that man is a piece of work. I’ve dealt with him for six years now, and he has agendas coming out the wazoo. We can’t go by what he said tonight because the truth is, I’ve never seen him not get his way. He’s hell-bent on creating that industrial park for his greater glory, so it’s my opinion that we need to impress him where he lives and breathes. And that, my friends, is with the votes he prizes above everything else. Those signatures are our best shot at keeping this library open.”
Locke Linwood pounded his fist on the table for emphasis. “I’m all in. I can contact all my former life insurance customers here in Cherico. You know, I was pretty good at selling policies all those years.”
“Go for it, Mr. Linwood!” Maura Beth exclaimed, giving him a wink.
Connie and Douglas exchanged glances, and he said, “We don’t know that many people, but we’ll keep our neighbors in the loop. They were interested enough to show up tonight, so I don’t see why they won’t help us out with this. They could certainly network with their friends who care about the library.”
“You just design those petitions, and I’ll have them printed up for you,” Connie added.
Maura Beth took a deep breath while she quickly scanned the room, admiring her very own fearless army of library soldiers. That was yet another course they should have taught in library school—Introduction to Going to War for the Patrons. “I couldn’t ask for more support, but we simply can’t fail in this. When that budget is approved a couple of weeks from now, the library must not be removed as a line item.” There was momentary silence, but then Maura Beth summed it all up. “We’re The Cherry Cola Book Club, and we’re just not going to let that happen.”