Monday, October 26

1 day to go

All I had in my refrigerator was a package of American cheese slices and a cucumber. I wasn’t going to go to Eugenia’s Clean Out Your Refrigerator party empty handed so I stopped at the IGA and picked up a package of hamburger and two bags of frozen vegetables to chip in.

The party was in full swing when I got there. People from Leetsville and people I’d never seen before. Nobody was in robes with cowls and ropes, so I figured the real End Timers were tending to other business.

The restaurant was packed—inside and outside. The day was chilly with the smell of rain coming from the west. Leetsvillians stood in the parking lot, plates of food in their hands. They leaned on cars or stood with feet planted wide. The women kept calling their children close to them. Nobody laughed. Voices were kept low. This wasn’t the kind of party where people expected to have fun. It was just Eugenia’s way—and probably most of Leetsville’s way—of dealing with nerves, and that nagging fear that the Reverend Fritch might be right. What they were doing was what Leetsvillians always did—share their food with everyone, share their trepidations, and share companionship in times of stress.

I pushed my way in the front door, got through the crammed vestibule, and across the restaurant toward the kitchen. Eugenia met me at the swinging doors with her hand out for my contributions. She frowned at the hamburger—obviously just purchased— and the two bags of frozen corn.

“Didn’t quite get the spirit of the party, did you, Emily?”

“I didn’t have anything in my refrigerator,” I told her. “Unless you wanted a cucumber and cheese slices.”

She shrugged. “You scared?”

I gave her a smirk and looked around for Catherine Thomas.

“Over there,” Eugenia pointed with the hamburger, reading my mind.

“How’s she doing since meeting Dolly?”

“Hopeful. Still hopeful.”

I left Eugenia to whip up something she could add the hamburger and vegetables to—expecting it to come out looking like meatloaf anyway, and went through the standing crowd to Cate’s corner, where she sat with Crystalline, Sonia, and Felicia. Harry and Delia Swanson called out as I passed. Jake Anderson waved from his table of men from The Skunk. Anna Scovil presided over a table of librarians from surrounding towns. There was battlefield humor going on. Jake called out that he was returning his new Cadillac to Sy Huett before he had to make a payment. Anna Scovil turned and told people behind her that she hadn’t really cleared out all the risqué books from the library, and that it was safe to come in again. Jokes jumped from table to table. Crystalline, Felicia, and Sonia laughed as Cate regaled us with the story of trying to pare her wardrobe down to one outfit for her last day on earth and not being able to give up one single item. “I’m just going to wear it all,” she said, her face pale under her thick makeup, her red lips finally pulling into a half-smile.

I pushed at Sonia and Felicia and settled into the crowded booth. The women greeted me and then demanded to know what was happening in Marjory’s murder case. I didn’t have much to tell them.

“Poor Marjory. I’ve been wondering if she had some inkling that her mother was out there. You know, like a vision or a premonition.” Crystalline shook her head and settled down into her body.

“Seems she almost said something …” Felicia frowned and thought hard, her long, plain face wrinkled with worry.

“I was trying to think …” Small Sonia raised that pierced eyebrow, sniffed, and settled back against the booth.

“Yeah, well,” Crystalline took over again after thinking hard. “And then … well … I just don’t know. I remember once her saying how she hoped someday to see her mother again.”

“That could mean in heaven,” I said.

She shook her head. “No. It wasn’t like that. More like she hoped to find her.”

“Then we’re right back where we began: why was she afraid of Deward?” I asked.

All three women looked at me oddly. “She was a psychic, Emily. Marjory tuned in to things other people couldn’t sense. I’m sure she knew there was something to fear there. She just didn’t know what.”

“So, why’d she go to Deward the morning she was killed?” I asked, hoping to finally hear something that made sense.

One by one, the women shrugged. Crystalline shook her head. “There was that letter, that her brother needed her help. She would have gone anywhere for family.”

“Did you get the idea it was Arnold, the politician, the one she rarely heard from?”

Slowly, all three women shook their head.

“Un-uh,” Sonia said. “I thought it was the other one. That Paul guy. That’s what I took it to mean. Like maybe he was in trouble in Leetsville. Now I’m wondering if he killed his mother and needed to get it off his conscience.”

“So he murders Marjory? Great way to jump-start your road to heaven.” I said. “And we don’t even know if the guy’s still alive or not.”

They all frowned at me, including Cate, and dug into their plates of what looked like stew with peas.

When two robed figures with shaved heads and the aura of death about them stepped into the restaurant, a slow hush fell over the diners.

Table to table, people quieted each other and pointed.

When the room was still, Sister Sally looked first to Deputy Dolly, cleared her throat, then said in a loud and carrying voice, “There will be a miracle tomorrow morning. Before the End, at noon, the miracles will begin. Everyone must come. It is our last offer of salvation. Be at the campground. If you believe or don’t believe, come.”

“Hey Dolly,” someone yelled out. “Good thing, eh? I mean, I don’t have to pay that shitload of tickets you gave me if the world ends.”

Dolly lifted her bald head, face stormy, and looked hard around the room. “Who said that?” she demanded, voice not at all reverential. “That you, Jake Anderson? You checked out that liquor license of yours in a while? Could be a problem. Maybe I’ll come on over to that saloon …”

Jake, back at a table with his buddies, lowered his head, mumbled something, and returned to his meatloaf.

Sally lifted both of her narrow hands into the air. “Brother Righteous will speak tomorrow.”

“Ha!” someone catcalled. “Guy’s dumb as a post.”

Dolly walked among the tables, stopping to look down and glare at anyone who dared open their mouth. Her swagger didn’t fit the robe. And that shiny bald head looked like something out of a Japanese movie—some kind of Ninja Turtle strutting neighbor to neighbor, man to man.

“Brother Righteous will speak,” Sister Sally called again.

Dolly got to where the five of us sat. She looked hard at me then leaned down to stick her finger in my face. “Be there,” she growled. “I need you.”

I didn’t have time to ask why. Something was coming. I wasn’t sure I knew what would happen, but this was more like the old Dolly. I hoped it was real, and not just that she wanted me there to help her climb on one of those fleet-footed stallions as the Four Horsemen rode through town.

“Will our children really be killed?” a worried woman yelled out.

“I wanna go out stoned …”

“I’m well shriven. Will I get to heaven?”

Raw nerves showed. People put their hands up for attention; others challenged Sister Sally; others wanted reassurance.

The terror that had been tamped down by the sense of occasion Eugenia’d provided, surfaced at the speed of light. People’s faces, strained and concerned, turned to the robed women.

Dolly leaned over toward Cate, looking her straight in the eye. Cate raised a hand and touched Dolly’s face. At first Dolly reared back, away from her grandmother. It only took a second for her to come close again, to lean down, and kiss Cate’s cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dolly whispered toward the woman.

“Will there be a day after tomorrow, Delores?” Cate asked, her old face a mix of happy and sad.

Dolly nodded. “It will all be over by noon.”

“You mean the world?” Cate asked.

“Somebody’s world,” Dolly said, and turned, making her way back to Sister Sally, then out the door.