The Darling Dahlias and the Silver Dollar Bush

“A rascal,” Aunt Hetty growled. “He can burn in—” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m a Christian,” she said, between her fingers. “I won’t say it. But you all know what I mean.”


Lizzy shook her head. “I hate to contradict everybody, but you’re wrong. I’ve known Grady Alexander ever since we were kids in second grade. He’s not a jerk or a cad or a rascal. He’s a nice guy who made a mistake. He’ll do his best to make his wife happy and he’ll love his child—his children. But he’s doing what he feels he has to do, and in the long run, that’s going to weigh on him.” She sighed. “That’s why I’ve been crying. I’m feeling sorry for him. And I hope you’ll have some sympathy, too.”

Beulah reached across the table and took Lizzy’s hand. “You mean, you really didn’t love him after all, Liz?”

“Oh, I loved him,” Lizzy said. “Maybe not as much as I should have—that is, if we were going to get married. But I did love him, and I still do. That’s why I can’t hold this against him. He did what . . . what people do. Of course, he shouldn’t have—at least, I’m sure that’s what his mother has told him.”

“I’ll bet she did,” Ophelia said with a knowing giggle. “Mrs. Alexander probably bit his head off.”

“But which of us has never done anything we shouldn’t?” Lizzy asked. She looked across the table at Beulah. “You?”

“Are you kidding?” With a rueful smile, Beulah shook her head. “Not me, honey.”

“Me neither,” Myra May said grimly. “I’m forever doing things I shouldn’t, and getting into hot water because of it.”

“You said a mouthful there, Myra May,” Aunt Hetty put in. “Although at my age, people tend to overlook my shortcomings. I guess they figure I don’t have much longer to get myself in trouble.” Everybody had to chuckle at that.

“Well, then, you understand,” Liz said. “I love it that you gave me this party and all those wonderful gifts. You are very generous and I appreciate it, more than I can say. But you can stop feeling sorry for me. And you can tell the rest of the Dahlias that I am going to be perfectly okay. Not tomorrow, maybe,” she added staunchly. “And maybe not even next week. But I will. Later.”

Verna leaned forward, studying Lizzy, her eyes narrowed. “Where is it?” she asked, frowning suspiciously. “I don’t see it. Did you take it off and leave it somewhere?”

“Leave what?” Lizzy asked, puzzled.

“What are you talking about, Verna?” Myra May demanded.

“Her halo,” Verna replied. She looked around. “She must have dropped it.” She picked up the edge of the checked tablecloth and peered underneath the table. “Not under there. Come on, everybody, we’d better hunt for it.”

With that, the party broke up in laughter and hugs. And when Lizzy went to bed that night, she thanked her lucky stars for all her Darling Dahlia friends, the best friends any woman could have.

Grady was now in her past, a man she had loved once, a man she would always remember with both love and sadness. But she was ready to make a new start on the rest of her life. And the Dahlias were there to help.





NINE


Violent Events, as Told to the Citizens of Darling

Wednesday, April 12