No story I’ve written captures the atmosphere and character of Sistersville, West Virginia better than my story The Gargoyle. It takes place in a town called Friendly (a stand-in for Sistersville and a REAL town a few miles up the river). The incident after which the story is named actually happened at the First Baptist Church in Steubenville, Ohio.
Mildred Thatcher hoisted her three-hundred pound frame into the 1985 gray Cadillac and adjusted the rear view mirror to check her makeup. The Five and Dime never had her favorite color of rouge in stock anymore. As Mildred drew her chubby, crimson-tipped fingers over the blotches on her cheeks, she reminded herself that she must stop in at Miller’s and get the right shade. Miller’s Drug Store, although new and not as big as the Five and Dime, sported a wider variety of Cover Girl rouges. This she had learned from her best friend, Ethel, who had recently shed her loyalty to the Five and Dime and braved a look at Miller’s flashier Cover Girl display. Mildred frowned through her silver-rimmed tri-focals, re-adjusted the mirror, and closed the door.
The downtown of Friendly, a grid of four streets and two red lights, greeted Mildred with a quiet spring smile as she drove steadily up to Main Street. Her heart clenched, however, when she noticed a strange blue car parked in her parking space across the street from the Friendly First Baptist Church. As Mildred drove past the car, she peered inside, hoping to see someone sitting there with whom she could silently communicate her distress at having to park further away from the church’s front entrance. Alas, the car was empty.
Mildred drove on across the railroad tracks that split the road beside the First Baptist Church. Nothing else was open on a Sunday morning. Surely the driver of the car was inside the church. Had no one informed the stranger that he or she was parked in Mildred’s spot? As Mildred turned down First Street to circle the block, she thought about Pastor Grieg, who had not yet managed to keep his sermon under 20 minutes. She would be late coming out. She disliked walking. The extra time would make her late getting to Elby’s in New Martinsville and she was frantic at the thought of having to sit in the waiting area, sandwiched in between fidgety children and their parents.
Mildred turned down the next street and crept behind the church, hoping that her slow pace would give the stranger time either to realize or be informed of his mistake and move his car. When she turned back on Main Street, however, the car was still there. Otis, the maintenance man, who always parked behind her, was sitting behind the wheel of his rusty green Impala reading a newspaper. As Mildred drove by, he lifted his eyes from the paper and motioned for Mildred to stop. Otis started his car and then backed it up, giving Mildred just enough space to parallel park her Cadillac.
As Mildred extracted herself from her car, Otis walked up and offered her a hand. Otis was in his late 70s, stooping and bald. He was wearing dark green slacks that rode too low on his stomach. “Now why didn’t you just park in my spot?” he asked.
Mildred, though unimpressed with Otis’ gallantry, adjusted the flowing folds of her blue and white polyester dress and smiled at him. He took Mildred’s arm and steered her across the narrow street to the front steps of the First Baptist Church.
“Thank you,” she said curtly. Otis nodded, then rambled back across the road to finish his morning reading.
The First Baptist Church of Friendly, West Virginia, loomed above her. It was an old building constructed of beige brick. On the right, back from the street and nestled behind a simple wrought-iron fence, sat a small parsonage that had been built in the 1950s. Over the years, however, it had grown too small and the church had purchased the large wooden Victorian home that sat on the other side of the church. Mildred glanced down at the house and noted with interest that Pastor Grieg had finally trimmed his azalea bushes back away from the sidewalk.
As Mildred placed her hand on the worn iron railing to begin her ascent, the church’s double doors flew open. Curtis Staley, one of the church elders, propped both doors open, then quickly came to escort Mildred into the narthex. Mildred’s swollen feet protested within her new high heeled shoes. Stopping to catch her breath and accept the bulletin offered to her, Mildred wished she had worn different shoes. The steps leading up from the narthex to the sanctuary were steep and treacherous.
Sunday School started at 9:15 sharp. The adult ladies class was held in a small, cozy room at the rear of the sanctuary. Mildred greeted her church friends with dampened enthusiasm and settled her copious form into one of the padded folding chairs in the rear of the room. While Gladys, the teacher, read from the Bible, Mildred glanced into the sanctuary and noticed a strange man sitting in the front pew. His black-clad frame was bent slightly forward as if he was reading. Pastor Grieg entered through the door behind the pulpit and sat beside him. The two men began to talk.
Did this man belong to the blue car? Before Mildred could consider it further, Gladys had called for a group prayer and she returned her attention to the class. When the prayer was complete, Gladys called the room to attention. “Pastor Grieg telephoned me yesterday to say that we will have a visitor today. He is a visiting Pastor from a church in Charleston. His name is Professor Goodman. Pastor Grieg will be making an announcement today regarding the professor’s visit that I’m sure will be of interest to us all.”
Mildred frowned. An announcement? What kind of announcement? Already the ladies of the Sunday School class had begun to chatter with consternation. She wished Ethel was there. Mildred had heard from Zelma, Ethel’s neighbor, that Ethel’s granddaughter, Sharon, was visiting from Pittsburgh. Ethel never came to Sunday School when Sharon was visiting. Apparently, Sharon could not rouse herself from bed in time to accompany her grandmother to Sunday School. Just then, Ethel and Sharon walked into the sanctuary and sat down in the next to last pew. Ethel turned her newly permed head to smile at Mildred. Mildred lifted her bejeweled hand in greeting just as another couple filed into the sanctuary and sat down beside Ethel and Sharon. Mildred sighed. They were sitting in her seat.
**************
The sparse congregation sat down after the last “Amen” of “What a Friend We Have In Jesus,” Pastor Grieg approached the pulpit. The pastor was a square, sturdy man who reminded Mildred of a statue of some ex-president she had seen in Washington, DC. He cleared his throat, then closed the book on the lectern and clasped his hands behind his back. “It has been brought to my attention that Satan has been at work within our church,” the pastor said evenly.
A silence fell over the congregation. Mildred glanced around the sanctuary in sudden, inexplicable fear. Satan? What on earth was he talking about? Why, there wasn’t a person here that she hadn’t known for years and years. Her eyes fell on a the back of a head she didn’t recognize. The figure sat beside the baptistry on the left side, alone. The pews in front and behind were vacant. Mildred frowned. Was it a girl or a boy? She waited, ignoring the slowly growing chatter around her. The figure turned toward Pastor Grieg and Mildred saw a young man’s pony-tailed head in sharp relief against the stained glass baptistry background. Trying not to look startled, Mildred opened her pocketbook, fished out a crumpled tissue and used it to wipe her upper lip.
Pastor Grieg cleared his throat again. “A few days ago, I conducted a tour of our church for a visiting member. During that visit, an image of Satan was discovered in one of our stained glass windows.”
A sea of heads began to turn, eyes scanning the row of windows that flanked one side of the sanctuary. Mildred, her throat dry suddenly, returned to her pocketbook to retrieve a half-empty roll of Certs. She fumbled the top piece of candy away from its companions and popped it into her mouth. There had to be some mistake.
The pastor continued. “I examined the window myself and found sufficient evidence of such an image to be concerned. Therefore, I contacted a minister from the American Baptist Convention and consulted him. Professor Goodman is here today to speak of this evil shadow that has fallen over our dear church.”
The tall, thin man Mildred had noticed earlier rose from the front pew and approached the pulpit. His hair, though full, had grayed with age. He wore a simple black suit with a blue tie. Mildred didn’t like his face at all. It was long and sullen with sad brown eyes. One long eyebrow slashed his forehead. Mildred was sure that he had never been married.
Professor Goodman acknowledged Pastor Grieg with a nod, then turned to address the congregation. “I regret that my visit is under such circumstances. However, based upon the information provided by your pastor when he telephoned, I consulted with the other members of the Convention and we came to the conclusion that a visit would be needed. I too have examined the window in question and have decided that action must be taken to remove this satanic presence from your midst.”
A chattering arose. Professor Goodman stood still and waited, but when the noise did not subside, he cleared his throat.
“You need not be alarmed. Pastor Grieg and I are in the midst of making plans this very day to remove the image from the window. He informs me that a member of your flock, Bill Smith, makes stained glass and can be called upon to remove and replace the image.”
Bill Smith? Mildred fanned herself vigorously with her bulletin. Bill Smith was no member, no active member, that is,of the First Baptist Church. Bill Smith owned a small boarding house up on the hill overlooking Friendly. He often boasted that he was going to turn it into some kind of Bed and Breakfast but Mildred figured it needed a bulldozer for that. Bill had been yakking about his Bed and Breakfast idea for as long as Mildred could remember.
Pastor Grieg had resumed his place at the lectern. “I am sure that many of you will have questions regarding this matter. Please feel free to speak to me after the service.”
As Pastor Grieg called for the next hymn, Mildred reached for her hymnal, opened it to the page she’d marked earlier and began to look around the sanctuary.
Tall, splendid stained glass renderings of Biblical events flanked the right side. One window portrayed Jesus’ ascension into heaven, another Jesus’ last night in the garden. Her favorite, however, was the window that contained a startling image of Jesus holding a lamb. Another lamb hovered behind his crimson robes. She stared at the window for a long time, wondering if this was the window…but how could it be? She had stared at it…actually, she had stared at them all for so many years and never noticed a thing. Perhaps it was one of the smaller windows that lined the narthex or the Sunday School meeting rooms.
Mildred thought about her Sunday School lessons. Gladys had covered a spectrum of topics over the thirty years she’d been teaching but Mildred could not remember one lesson on Satan’s image. Sin, temptation, false idols…but never this. How could a mere window ruin anything? Mildred was frightened to think that something so small, something that had gone unnoticed for so long could have such a profound effect upon their beloved little church.
Pastor Grieg was still mumbling through the end of his sermon when the twelve o’clock train whistled outside the church. Mildred sighed. Despite many complaints, he still could not manage to keep the service short. As the closing hymn was called, she began to gather up her purse and bulletin. She inched as far toward the edge of the pew as she could until the final harmonious “Amen” signaled that the service was over.
Mildred ambled toward the back of the sanctuary. Three children raced past her, giggling and shouting. Where were their parents? She clutched the railing and was making her way down to the narthex when a hand grabbed her arm. She looked up, prepared to thank Curtis Staley yet again for his assistance, when she stopped.
The young man she had noticed earlier was standing beside her. He was perhaps twenty or twenty-one and wore a green flannel shirt and a pair of ratty blue jeans. His long brown hair had been tied back into a ponytail. One hand was fastened securely on her arm. The other was holding a beat up canvas backpack. He smiled at her and said, “Let me help you.” Mildred nodded her head in recognition of the offer.
Mildred was acutely aware of the pressure of his hand. When they reached the bottom, she muttered “thank you” and stepped out into the sunshine. She turned to see the young man walking toward town. She noticed that he was wearing dirty Nike sneakers.
Mildred crossed the street and got into her car. She thought about Ethel. She should have lingered for just a moment to visit but she was hungry and wanted to get to Elby’s before the damage was critical. She looked in her rear view mirror at the retreating young figure, then started her car and pulled away.
**************
Mildred rarely visited with friends on Sunday. She saw them in church and she considered that more than sufficient. However she wanted to find out if Ethel knew anything about this stained glass business. And the strange young man was still heavy in her thoughts.
Ethel’s front door was open and Mildred could see her friend sitting in her favorite lounger, watching television. At the sound of the bell, Ethel let out her customary “yoo hoo” and rose to let her friend in.
Mildred passed through the front hallway and into the spacious living room. She declined Ethel’s offer of a drink and settled onto the worn green tapestry sofa. The window behind it overlooked the Ohio River, which was at flood stage. “I just got back and thought I’d visit for a spell,” she said.
Ethel returned to her chair, switched off the television and put her feet up on a small vinyl stool. “Sharon’s not here. I’m sorry you missed her. We had lunch up at the Golden Corral and then she took off down to the river. I can’t keep up with her. Do you know that that child cleaned my whole house yesterday. You should have seen her. I just sat here and watched.”
Ethel smiled. Mildred was jealous of her friend, despite their long-time friendship. Though the same age, Ethel had managed to retain her figure. She ate like a horse but still bought 3-R dresses off the rack at JC Penneys. Mildred spied the candy dish of Hershey’s kisses on the cherry coffee table.
“So,” Ethel began, “What in the Sam Hill do you make of all this? I had no idea any of this had happened. We heard up at the Golden Corral from Virginia that there’s going to be an article in the Parkersburg paper about the window.”
“The Parkersburg paper? You must be joking! Well, why on earth would they care? They’re forty miles down the river. Do you know what window it is?”
“I have no idea. Tell you the truth, I don’t think I want to know. Just let them take care of it.”
Mildred frowned. She wanted details. It was just like Ethel to smooth over something so serious.
“But what do you think it means?”
“Well, I overheard Virginia and Bob talking and Bob, you know Bob, he’s always looking for trouble, he said that something like this can ruin a church.”
Ruin a church? Mildred was mortified. “It’s just a window, for Pete’s sake.”
“I suppose you’re right. I don’t know much about it.”
Mildred didn’t like Bob. He was always forecasting gloom and doom. Every spring, when the rains came, Bob would begin his yearly litany of flood stories. I remember when was just about the only opening to a sentence that Bob knew. And why did he care, anyway? He and Virginia had built their new house up on the hill. It would have to rain another forty days and forty nights to put that house in harm’s way.
“Bob needs to keep his trap shut,” Mildred said. “I don’t know how Virginia puts up with him sometimes.”
A screen door slammed and Sharon entered the room. “Hi, Mildred,” she said and sat down in another chair. She pulled a small collapsible table up in front of her and extracted a deck of Bicycle playing cards from the sofa table drawer beside her.
“Hello, Sharon. I hear you’ve been working hard.”
Sharon smiled as she began laying out a hand of solitaire. “I enjoy it. I always did like to clean. Do you still want me to clean your copper pots, grandma?”
Mildred felt that twinge of jealousy again. Her own house was so dark and dreary. She was sure that inches of dust could be found on top of her antiques. Her own children lived too far away to help and she had no grandchildren.
“Only if you want to, sweetie. Did you go down to the river?”
Sharon was studying the cards on the table. “It was too muddy. I didn’t want to mess up my shoes so I walked up town. Besides…” she looked up, her round, pleasant features alight. “I wanted to check out that window.”
“Oh my land,” Ethel said, shaking her head. “You just leave it be, Sharon.”
“Why should I? It’s just a window, grandma. You don’t really believe all that mumbo jumbo about Satan’s image, do you?”
“That’s not the point. It’s not for you to bother with.”
“Just think,” Sharon said, laying down an ace of spades, “maybe it will turn into a scandal. Didn’t you once tell me that one of your preachers was asked to leave because he was…”
“That’ll be enough, Sharon,” Ethel warned.
Mildred cringed. The First Baptist Church had its history. She had heard the rumor that one of their earlier pastors, Pastor Mills, had been touching boys in the basement. He had been quietly asked to leave. She had bumped into him once in New Martinsville, at Herricks. He had acted as if nothing had ever happened.
“Anyways, I found the window…it’s on the left…over the baptistry, I think. The one with Jesus kneeling down, praying.”
“The Baptistry!” Ethel said.
“And it’s not Satan, at all. It looks like a gargoyle or something. It’s about 10 inches wide…at the top. It’s kinda cool actually. You guys have the most beautiful windows. I always wanted to ask…some of the others have names at the bottom. Did those people die and their families pay for the windows? How does that work?”
Mildred began to fan herself with her hand. It was going to be a hot spring. She liked Sharon but the girl never shut up. She always wore blue jeans and t-shirts and her hair was always hanging in her face. Suddenly, she felt sorry for Ethel, having to put up with such atrocious behavior.
“Grandma,” Sharon said, “I saw the cutest guy in church this morning. He’s got the most gorgeous long brown hair. If I’d known you had guys like that here, I’d have visited more often.”
“Sharon, you say the wildest things.”
“I saw him,” Mildred cut in. “He was at church this morning. Ethel, how could you miss him? He looked like a hippie.” She thought about telling Ethel about the stairs, but didn’t.
“I already know all about him,” Ethel said. “Myrtle told me yesterday that he’s working up at the Hi-way Grille washing dishes. He’s a hitchhiker, I guess, or that’s what she said. She didn’t know too much.”
“But where is he sleeping,” Mildred asked.
Sharon began picking up the cards and started to reshuffle. “Maybe he sleeps by the river at night. Wouldn’t that be cool.”
“Now that’s just silly, Sharon.” Ethel said. “I’m sure he’s got somewhere to sleep.”
“Maybe he sneaks around at night and watches everybody through their windows,” Sharon continued.
Mildred sighed. “Well, I don’t know. All I know is that I didn’t like the looks of him. He hasn’t washed that hair of his in awhile. And those clothes. It’s not right.”
“His hair’s beautiful,” Sharon piped up. “Just because a guy’s got long hair doesn’t mean it’s dirty. Besides…Jesus had long hair, right?”
“Honestly, Sharon.” Ethel began to laugh.
“Well, he did!”
“Sharon, why don’t you go clean my copper pots?”
Sharon shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever.” She put the cards away and folded the table.
Mildred watched the girl go. She picked up her pocketbook and rose herself. “Well, I’d better go.” Ethel followed her to the door. “I’ll call you later this week,” Mildred said, opening the door. “Say good-bye to Sharon for me.”
“I will. Take care.”
**************
Mildred pulled up in the driveway. Next door, Freda Johnson was sitting on her front porch swing. Freda was a younger woman, around 60, who had lost her husband just the year before. Mildred had speculated Freda would soon follow but Freda had surprised her. She had joined the Eastern Star, started making crafts for the church bazaar and even took a trip with her children to the Amish country. She waved to Mildred.
Mildred waved back, shut the car off and got out. As she made her way slowly up her front steps, she stared at her front porch. It needed a new paint job. The green indoor-outdoor carpet she had covered it with now looked faded and was starting to bulge in places.
The house seemed gloomier than usual. The tapestry curtains she’d so meticulously picked out of the Penneys catalog let in so little sunshine. She had bought them right after her husband, Kenneth, had died three years back. Mildred felt she needed a change. But all the curtains seemed to do was collect dust.
Mildred set her pocketbook on the mahogany dining room table and picked up the telephone. She dialed Bessie Weekly.
“Y-ello!” It was Bessie’s father. He was hard of hearing and always shouted into the phone.
“Is Bessie there, Stanley?”
“WHO?”
“Bessie,” Mildred repeated.
“OK.”
Silence followed, then a female voice said “Hello?”
“Bessie, this is Mildred. I was wondering if one of the kids could mow my lawn.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mildred. They’re out at the 4H Camp with the Sunday School Class. They won’t be back ’til after dark. I can get Gilbert to do it for you if you want. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
Gilbert was Bessie’s good-for-nothing husband. Mildred would rather mow the grass herself than have to listen to him rattling on about his cronies and their women. “No, that’s ok, Bessie. I’ll ask Zelma’s boy to do it.”
Mildred hung up. It was getting late and she was getting hungry. She contemplated her usual dinner choices. Though she rarely admitted it to herself, it was just no fun cooking for herself anymore. She missed her husband’s chatter while they ate. And her weight made standing up for any extended periods too painful. She could go up to the Wells Inn, but it was Sunday night and would probably be busy. Miller’s Cafeteria hadn’t been too good lately. Her only other alternative was the Hi-way Grille.
Mildred washed her face, arranged her hair and powdered her cheeks. As she left the house, she could hear humming through Freda’s open kitchen window. She wondered why Freda never invited her to dinner. They’d been neighbors for almost 30 years. They used to visit each other often, but when Freda’s husband fell ill, Mildred chose not to bother her neighbor. She remembered when her own husband, Kenneth, had gotten the cancer. She had never wanted any company. She had assumed that Freda wanted to be alone. But after his death, their visits never resumed.
The Hi-way Grille was a small oblong diner just outside of Friendly. Several cars and pickup trucks were parked in front and Mildred had to park by the Video Barn next door. As she opened the glass door, she heard clapping and laughter from the back room. The owners had remodeled a couple of years ago and added a new addition in the back for banquets and parties. A short girl wearing a brown polyester dress and white apron passed by and slipped through the double swinging doors.
Mildred stood by the cash register and waited for someone to seat her. A few men dressed in overalls and work clothes were sitting at the counter eating. Mabel, the owner, stopped to refill their coffee cups then approached Mildred. “Hi, Mildred. Dinner tonight?”
“Thank you,” Mildred replied.
Mabel sat her in the first booth, just inside the door. The front of the diner consisted of four large windows. Green wooden shades had been rolled up and secured at the top of each. She sat facing Friendly and watched cars pass by on Route 2. Mabel poured her a cup of coffee, then took an order pad out of her apron pocket and said “What can I get you, Mildred?”
“Do you have any meatloaf?”
Mabel scribbled on her pad, then smiled and went to post Mildred’s order.
More laughter and applause exploded from the back room as another waitress opened the door. When Mabel returned with some silverware and a paper napkin, Mildred said, “What’s going on back there?”
“Just a birthday party. Somebody from Paden City. He’s real old, must be at least 80. His whole family’s back there, a couple of kids from Cleveland, one from Kentucky.”
Mildred remembered her last birthday. She had spent it alone. Ethel had offered to take her to lunch in Parkersburg but she had hoped for a visit from her children. But work had been more important for them.
“I hear you have a new employee. I saw him in church this morning.” Mildred knew that Mabel would have something to say about it. Mabel had something to say about everyone in town, especially new folks.
Mabel looked around as if to make sure nobody was watching her, then she slid into the brown vinyl booth opposite Mildred. “Is that where he went this morning? I wondered….Lord have mercy, he looked awful when he left.”
Mildred shook her head. Clearly they were talking about the same person.
Mabel continued. “Sam hired him but I don’t like him. He’s staying up at Bill Smith’s place. Bill said he needed the help.”
“Help with what?”
“Who knows. Bill’s got his hands into everything, you know that.”
Bill Smith had a gift for hiring deadbeats and derelicts. One summer he had hired the son of somebody’s friend who’d been let go at the mill up in Wheeling. Before summer was over, that kid had been arrested twice for brawling up at the beer joint.
Mabel said, “Did I hear that he’s the one who’s going to replace that bad window up at the First Baptist?”
“You know about that too?”
“People have been talking about nothing but.”
Mildred was going to question Mabel further when the kitchen door opened and the mysterious young man emerged. His hair had been pushed up under a ball cap and he was wearing an apron over his jeans. Mabel glanced back, then stood up and said, “Let me go see if your meatloaf’s ready, Mildred. It was nice talking to you.”
Mildred watched the young man. Sam, Mabel’s husband, handed him a plate through the serving window and he sat down behind the counter next to Hank Beaver. Hank, who ran the Quaker State gas station just down the road from Mildred’s house, scooted his coffee cup closer to his plate.
Mildred frowned. Hank wasn’t much to look at himself. Today he was wearing one of his cleaner pair of overalls. She remembered when Hank had first come to town, opening up a gas station that everyone said wasn’t needed. They already had an Esso station and Phillips 66 was just up the way in Paden City. But Hank had ignored their chatter and waited it out. Soon, he had a thriving business.
Mabel stopped to ask the dishwasher if he wanted something to drink. He said something and Mabel poured him a glass of water. Mildred watched as he began to eat. She was startled suddenly when Sam sat a plate in front of her.
“Special delivery for one of my favorite gals,” Sam said. Sam had jet black hair, slicked back with whatever it was that men used to produce such an effect. He blue eyes twinkled with humor behind his glasses. He was such a flirt.
“Oh, thank you, Sam,” Mildred replied.
“I have a question for you, Mildred.”
“Yes, Sam?”
“You see that young fella sittin’ over there? Well, he’s new in town and he’s looking for any kinda work he can get. Well, I just happened to notice this morning that your yard could use a mowin’.”
Mildred took a bite of her meatloaf. It was dry today.
“Well, Sam, you know I pay the Weekly kids to do my yard.”
Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Just thought I’d ask for him. He don’t know anybody…just old Bill. And I heard you tellin’ Mabel that them Weekly kids messed up your yard last summer. Oh well, if you change your mind, gimme a yell.”
“I will, Sam. Thanks for thinking of me.”
Mildred was glad when Sam left. She continued to eat and watch the dishwasher. Her meatloaf had chilled quickly. The young man finished his plate, then picked it up and returned to the back. She thought about Sam’s suggestion but discounted it almost immediately. She didn’t know this guy from Adam. And the Weekly kids, despite their shoddy attitude toward yardwork, did love it so when she gave them their five dollars apiece.
Mildred finished her meal and was about to leave when Mabel paid her another visit. “Don’t go just yet. Look.” She grabbed Mildred’s arm and pointed out the window. The dishwasher was standing by the side of the road, hitchhiking.
Mildred sighed. She could hardly start her car and drive past him, especially since he’d helped her down the steps this morning. He might recognize her.
A pickup truck stopped just then and he climbed inside. Mildred paid for her dinner and said good-bye to Mabel. It was nearly dark when she climbed into her Cadillac and drove home.
**************
Pearl Enbody’s was abuzz when Mildred arrived the next day for her bi-weekly hair appointment. When she entered, two other ladies were there. Ruth Westfall was under the dryer leafing through a dog-eared copy of Redbook and Edith Smith sat beside her, filing her nails. Pearl and Edith were talking.
“That window is going to be trouble, Pearl. I just know it.”
Pearl, a petite woman with a pleasant face and gray hair streaked with black, was rinsing out hair curlers in the sink. “Hi, Mildred. Right on time. Have a seat.”
Mildred set her pocketbook on the chair beside Edith and sat down in front of the sink. Pearl snapped a vinyl smock around Mildred’s neck and eased her head back.
Mildred didn’t like Edith. She didn’t trust anyone who had nothing good to say about anyone else. On top of that, Edith wore makeup about three shades too dark. Her lips were so red that it looked like someone had slashed her face.
“Edith, you worry too much,” Pearl said. She turned on the water. Mildred closed her eyes and waited for Pearl to begin rinsing.
“I told my nephew about that window and he said that according to the Bible, an image of Satan can never appear over Christ.”
“So?”
“So that means that the devil has been working in that church. How long has that window been up there? As long as I can remember. Why, it could have caused a lot of things. Remember when the church caught fire a few years back. If it hadn’t been for Otis, it would have burned down. Maybe…”
“But the church didn’t burn down, Edith. So that’s a good thing. That was God’s work or so the pastor said.”
“But what if God was trying to destroy the church, to get rid of that window.”
“Honestly, Edith. It’s just a window.”
“You don’t know that, Pearl. You’ve read the Bible. It could have powers in it. Remember when Francis and her husband got killed in that car accident. It was right after church.”
“It was raining. For crying out loud, Edith. You do come up with the silliest ideas.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s a bit silly. And neither does Ralph. He said he ain’t going back until ol’ Bill’s fixed that window.”
Pearl was done rinsing. Mildred struggled to lift herself into a sitting position. “Well,” said Pearl to Mildred with a wink, “we’ll sure miss old Ralph, won’t we, Mildred?” Pearl went to check on Ruth. “You’re just about done,” she said, lifting the hair dryer away from Ruth’s curler-laden head.
“I saw a gargoyle once,” Ruth said thoughtfully. “Bill and I were in France. It was on top of a church. They’re used as water drains or something. They’re all over France, if I remember the guide right.”
“You see,” said Pearl, “it’s all just a bunch of nonsense.”
“They were ugly, though,” Ruth continued, “I suppose they look like the devil.”
“If everything that looked like the devil was evil, we’d have thrown quite a few people out of that church years ago,” Pearl quipped.
Mildred said nothing. She was growing weary of the topic. But she liked Pearl. Pearl listened, but never added much fuel to any of the fires that people started in her shop. As Pearl began to set her hair, she tried to tune the others out. But then the subject changed to Friendly’s newest resident.
“I saw him up at the church yesterday,” said Edith, her voice growing shrill. “He looked like he fell out of a truck. My God, his hair. Pearl, he needs to visit you.”
Pearl laughed. “Well next time you see him, Edith, you just send him on up here to me.”
“Ralph don’t like the looks of him. He said he ain’t got no business hitchhiking around here. People shouldn’t pick him up.”
“He seems harmless enough. Ol’ Bill’s not stupid, Edith. He’s not going to hire a criminal to help him paint his house.”
“I’m not so sure,” Edith said. “He’s hired more than his share of winners.”
“Well that don’t mean this guy’s the same as those others.”
“Well, Bill’d better be careful. I don’t trust him. And how come he showed up just when this window business started? It’s too much of a coincidence for me.”
“Edith, really,” Pearl admonished.
“And what was he doing up at church anyways, dressed like that?”
Pearl began combing Mildred’s hair into sections. She said, “Maybe he just wanted to go to church, Edith. A man can go to church around here if he wants to.”
“But dressed like that!”
“Maybe he doesn’t have anything else. Maybe he doesn’t have enough money for nice clothes. You don’t have to be rich to go to church. Well I’ve seen Bessie wear the same dress four weeks in a row.”
“Well, at least it’s a dress.”
“Kids these days, they dress different than we did, Edith.”
“They should have more respect, that’s all I’m trying to say. And I heard that Ethel hired him to work in her yard, if you can believe that.”
“Well good for Ethel,” Pearl said. “She’s too old to be doing all that work herself.”
“Ethel ought to be more careful. Don’t you remember when she let that man in her basement last year. He was looking for glass and she just let him right on in. There’s no telling what he walked off with.”
“Honestly, Edith. Nothing happened.”
Mildred remembered the incident. The man had come to her door too. He claimed he was looking for Fostoria glass. She had never collected it so she sent him away but she knew Ethel had a car load of it stashed away in her cavernous basement.
Pearl relented and stayed quiet as she began putting curlers into Mildred’s hair. Soon, Edith said her good-byes and left.
“Boy, that Edith is something else, isn’t she?” Pearl commented as the door slammed shut.
“I suppose so,” Mildred replied.
**************
Mildred drove past Ethel’s house on her way home. Work Street was just two blocks uptown from her and not far out of her way. Her cadillac dwarfed the other vehicles that sat along side the narrow cobblestone street.
The young man was on his knees in Ethel’s yard, pruning one of several rose bushes that Ethel had planted along the side of her small white house. Beside him on the grass was a pile of dead branches. Several other piles of greenery were lying on the grass beside Ethel’s azalea bushes and evergreens.
Mildred slowed to a crawl, watching the man. He didn’t notice her, though, and remained focused on his task. He sat back for a moment to brush his hands off when the side door opened and Ethel emerged. She was carrying a can of soda pop, which she handed to him. Ethel saw her car and waved. Mildred waved back and drove on.
That evening, Mildred sat on her front porch swing and worked on her shopping list for the next day. Tuesday was shopping day. She was considering a visit to the new Giant Eagle up the road from Herricks when she noticed that her favorite tree needed trimming badly.
That tree was a minor legend among their friends. Kenneth and her son, Dick, had gone off into the woods one day to dig up a dogwood tree. Both were puffed up with mutual admiration when they came home several hours later with a tree that had cost them nothing but an afternoon’s work. Later, however, the tree had failed to produce any dogwood petals. Everyone knew they’d made a mistake. No one ever bothered to figure out what kind of tree it was but Mildred loved it just the same, blooms or no.
A figure was walking up the street. A few steps closer and she recognized the dishwasher.
Mildred lowered her eyes back to her list. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her. She was jotting down soap when a tentative voice said “hello.”
Mildred looked up. The young man was standing at the base of the porch, his hands jammed into his pockets. “Hi, you’re the lady from the Hi-way Grille yesterday, aren’t you? I saw you at church too.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Mildred replied.
“Well…..” He looked around nervously. “Sam told me you might need some work in your yard. I could really use the money.”
Mildred felt cornered. Her lawn was obviously in need of work. Her bushes needed trimmed and the flower beds were a mess.
“I’m sorry,” Mildred said, “but I already have a boy that works in my yard.”
The man looked sad. “Oh. Well, I just thought I’d ask. Thanks anyways.”
“Didn’t I see you working in Ethel Moellendick’s yard today?”
The man smiled. “Yeah, I met her granddaughter up at Miller’s and she asked Mrs. Moellendick for me. She’s a nice lady. She has beautiful roses”
“They’re her favorite.”
“I just love her back yard. I trimmed away some of the trees so you can see the river better.”
“I’m sure it looks lovely,” Mildred replied.
“Well, maybe I’ll see you in church Sunday.” He turned to leave then stopped. “Wait until you see what Mr. Smith has done with the window. I mean, he’s still working on the new piece but it’s nice. Everybody seems so worried about it. I thought you might like to know.”
“We love our church,” Mildred said.
“It’s a nice church. I asked Mr. Smith which one I should go to and he said yours was the nicest. I miss my church back home, though.”
Mildred didn’t want to like the young man, but she did. His manner was so gentle, his face equally so. She noticed his eyes for the first time. They were a rich brown. She suddenly wanted to know where back home was. But he was moving away from the soft glow of light that surrounded her porch and back toward the dark sidewalk. “See ya later,” he called to her. Then he was gone.
**************
Mildred stepped carefully onto the front porch of the Wells Inn. Bob Smith and George Efaw were sitting in tall-backed rocking chairs out front. She greeted them both and then went inside.
The Wells Inn was a landmark in Friendly. A huge red brick structure, at three stories, it was Friendly’s tallest building. It had been built in 1879 and shut down several times over the years due to lack of interest or lack of funds to keep it up. However, two years back a couple from the south had purchased it and was currently in the process of renovation.
Mildred liked it because it was charming. She loved the way the plush red carpet in the lobby cushioned her feet. Flocked Victorian wallpaper covered the walls. A glittering chandelier hung from the cracked plaster ceiling. The Wells Inn offered formal dining every night. She enjoyed eating somewhere where you had to dress up. To be seen entering the Wells Inn was one of the few marks of status in the tiny West Virginia burg.
Mildred ambled past the front desk and entered the dining room. Here the atmosphere changed to a dark, plush feel of mahogany and velvet. Patty, the hostess, walked into the dining room behind her. “Hello, Mildred.”
“Hello.”
“Table for one?”
“Yes, please.”
Patty seated her toward the back, near the blazing fireplace. Above the mantle was a painting of the Ohio River. As she perused the tall leather ensconced menu, she heard a voice behind her.
“Well, hello, Mildred.”
It was Polly Thayer. Polly was one of those people who never spoke an honest word, even when commenting on something as trivial as the weather.
“Hello, Polly.”
Polly’s husband was a doctor. They lived in the biggest house in Friendly, a stone monstrosity that sat just off of Route 2 about two blocks up town from Mildred’s own modest home. The house was completely surrounded by a brick wall. Inside, you could see private gardeners mowing the lawn or trimming the shrubs. They had opened the house up once during the Oil and Gas Festival a few years back to show off the doctor’s prized model train collection. But one of the visiting children had dropped an ice cream cone on Polly’s floor and Polly swore that such an event would never be allowed again.
Polly was wearing a red dress with black heels, simple and elegant. She pulled up the chair across from Mildred and sat down. “I’m just too tired to cook tonight. Henry’s in Parkersburg. He stays there sometimes when he’s got too many appointments. The house is so lonely tonight. Would you like some company?”
Mildred did not want to talk to Polly but Polly was somehow making it impossible for her to avoid it. Polly motioned for Patty to bring another menu. She scanned it quickly, then said “Red wine for a start, please. Then the grilled chicken and side salad with ranch on the side.”
Polly handed the menu back. “I always get my dressing on the side now. My daughter told me that’s what all the girls do now to avoid eating so much fat.”
Mildred doubted Polly had ever had to worry about fat. She was an easy size eight.
“Well Mildred,” Polly began, “What do you think of all this business. I haven’t heard so much talk in this town since that explosion up at the plant.”
Polly was a member of the First Baptist. She and Henry sat in the second to first pew on the left hand side and had done so since they moved to Friendly.
“I heard Bill Smith’s doing a good job.”
“Henry’s terribly upset over the whole affair. We’ve invested so much in that church. To think that our money may have contributed to such a thing.”
Mildred had overheard some of the elders talking once. Polly and her husband gave no more to the First Baptist than any other member, perhaps even less.
“We’ve got to protect our church, Mildred. It wouldn’t look good. I just can’t wait until everything gets back to normal. Did you say you heard Mr. Smith is doing a good job. From who?”
“From that boy he hired.”
“What boy? Oh, you mean that slob that came to church last Sunday. Oh for God’s sake, Mildred, did he come to your house too? Do you know that he had the nerve to come to my door and ask for a job? I’ve got to be careful, you know. And I heard Ethel hired him to work in her yard. Honestly, she is nuttier than a fruitcake. It’s just like last year when she let that man in her house to look at her glass. She’s so gullible. There’s no telling what that man ran off with. Fostoria glass is so valuable.”
Mildred was about to respond when Patty returned. “I’ll have a filet mignon, medium well, baked potato, butter and sour cream, nothing to drink…no, some water, please.”
“Mildred, you didn’t hire him, did you?”
“No, the Weekly boys do my yard.”
“Well, good for you. I sent him up the garden path, let me tell you. I hope Mr. Smith is careful. He’s not so young either.”
“Oh Polly, you worry too much.”
“We’ve got to worry, Mildred. Don’t you watch the tv? I can’t believe some of the things that are going on. Why every day I see where somebody’s been murdered or beaten up. It’s not safe anymore. I was never so glad when Henry had that security system installed.”
Mildred smiled, imagining what Kenneth might have said to her. He would have been pleasant to Polly’s face, then tell Mildred later on “She don’t need no fancy security system. Just the sight of Polly would scare ‘em off.”
A waitress arrived with their meals and both women ate in silence. Mildred was just finishing the last of her potato when Polly said “Well, I really must go, Mildred. I hope you didn’t mind the company. It’s been so lonely for me. Do you have any plans for the weekend?”
Mildred had considered going up to Greenwood to visit her husband’s grave. She had purchased a grave blanket at the Big Wheel in New Martinsville last week and wanted to place it.
“I haven’t made any yet. I’ll see you Sunday, Polly.”
Polly collected her purse and said “Well, maybe. Take care, Mildred.”
**************
“My God, just look at that.”
Mildred was sitting in the rear of the Sunday School room when Edith Smith rushed to her side. She was gesturing madly at the window. Someone had attached a large piece of tarp to the top. She assumed that the gargoyle had been removed and that there was a hole in its place.
“Why Edith,” Mildred said mildly, “I thought that Ralph didn’t want to come back until it was fixed.”
“Well, Ralph’s not here but I just had to come and see it for myself. But it’s gone.”
Mildred was not sorry that Edith had nothing to fire her already overactive imagination.
“Bill will probably have it fixed soon,” Mildred said.
“Well, I heard that that fella he’s got working for him…you know, I don’t even know his name…well, anyways, I heard that he broke the first piece of glass and that Bill has to order some more. It won’t be fixed until it comes in.”
Mildred pictured the incident in her mind. She had seen a program on tv once about how they make stained glass. It was a painstaking process. Glass cutters had to take incredible precautions when handling the glass. Sometimes the pieces were cracked already. One wrong move could result in serious injury. Cutters were instructed to drop a piece of glass the minute it began to crack. It had probably been an accident.
“I knew that kid was no good,” Edith continued. “I said so the other day. Bill should watch out who he hires.”
“I don’t think he meant to break it, Edith.”
“Well, I heard from Polly that the minister is very upset. Bill had promised him that the window would be fixed.”
“Well, I’m sure Bill will take care of it.”
During the church service, Mildred scanned the room for the young dishwasher. He was nowhere to be seen. Afterward, she stopped Bessie Weekly in front of the church as the young housewife was attempting to gather her children together.
“Can one of the boys mow my yard?” Mildred asked.
Bessie was half-listening. One small tot was clutching her hand but the two older boys had eluded her and were racing toward the railroad tracks. “Scott! Jason! Get back here now! I’m sorry, Mildred, but they can’t today. Maybe later on in the week?”
Later, after returning from Elby’s, Mildred sat on her front porch and stared at her yard. Spring was not going to wait on the Weekly boys. An untouched bag of Weed and Feed glared up from the porch floor.
She remembered what Edith had said in church and was angry. Perhaps if Edith met the young man but…no, she shook her head to herself. But what did Edith matter anyhow? Ethel had hired the man. She’d spoken briefly to Ethel in church. No horror stories had been revealed, only the usual chit chat about shopping and family.
Mildred went inside and dialed the Hi-way Grille.
“Mabel, is that you? It’s Mildred.”
“Mildred..what can I do for you? Will you be in for dinner this afternoon?”
“No. Mabel, is that new dishwasher still working for you? What’s his name?”
Silence. Mildred waited, patient. She pictured Mabel’s mouth twisting in confusion. “His name’s Philip.” More silence.
“I’d like to speak to Philip, please,” Mildred continued.
Rustling. Then a man’s voice. “Hello?”
“Hello, Philip. This is Mildred Thatcher. Do you remember me?”
“Sure, the lady from church. Sure, I do.”
“Philip, I need some work done in my yard. Are you available?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Mildred completed the transaction and hung up. Philip would come around after work, 3:00 pm. She offered to pick him up but Philip said, “No, that’s ok. I enjoy the walk. It’s not far.”
Mildred couldn’t help enjoying the thought of Mabel and Edith and Polly. She wondered if she, too, would fall into the nuttier than a fruitcake category, as Ethel had. Regardless of that, the thought of having her yard mowed added a spring to her step. Instead of her usual afternoon spent in front of the television, Mildred decided to strip down her drapes and wash them. Her feet and back ached horribly from the task. By the time Philip’s tap sounded on her front door, she was ready for a rest.
Mildred stepped out onto the front porch. Philip was already standing in the yard, figuring out what needed to be done. He never asked her for a dime, just disappeared into the shed out back. He returned with a five-gallon rusty red gasoline can. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. The mower’s empty.”
Mildred sat on the porch while he worked. An occasional car drove by that she recognized. She waved to each.
Philip remained silent while he worked. Mildred watched him from the porch. She almost said something to him when he began pruning the “dogwood” tree, but he approached the task as he had all the others, with care.
Mildred admired the man’s skill. She was sure that Philip had done this before, perhaps back home.
“Where are you from, Philip?” she asked finally.
Philip looked up at her and smiled. “Pittsburgh, ma’am.”
He leaned over and began pushing mounds of weeds and dead leaves into a Hefty bag.
“My husband was from Pittsburgh,” Mildred replied. “He used to work in the yard but he was never any good at it.” She thought about the tree again.
“Your husband, ma’am?”
“Yes, he’s been gone for three years now. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s quite alright. Do you like working for Bill?”
“He’s a nice guy. Not very organized, though.”
Mildred chuckled. “That’s Bill.”
“But he’s a nice guy, talks all the time about opening a Bed and Breakfast.”
“Well, he’d better hurry up, then. He’s not getting any younger.”
Philip smiled. Mildred decided that she would remember his smile forever. It was so pleasant, like a warm breeze. “No, he’s not. None of us are.”
“Oh my,” Mildred said, getting up out of her chair. “You don’t have to worry about that just yet. You’re just a baby. How old are you?”
“Twenty-one, ma’am.”
“Oh my land, when I was your age, I already had a baby. My husband and I were living in an apartment in Newark, Ohio.”
“Nice town.”
“Well, back then it wasn’t anything much at all. Kenneth, that’s my husband, Kenneth drove a truck for the city. He made about a dollar an hour. My goodness gracious, he used to work all the time. Not like they do today, just eight to five.”
Mildred crept down the front steps and ambled to her car. She opened the trunk and took out the new grave blanket she’d purchased for Kenneth’s grave. It had taken her twenty minutes to pick out this one. It was covered with lillies and carnations. Random sprigs of ivy shot out from the colorful center.
“I may just drive up to the cemetery today,” she said.
Philip had joined her. He stretched his back. His face was grimy, his chin beginning to show just a hint of stubble.
“It’s a good day for it,” he replied. “I hear it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.”
Mildred turned and admired her immaculate yard. “Would you like to come along?”
Mildred remembered the times the Weekly boys had done her yard. They left most of her weeds untouched. The ones they did pull she often found poking out from beneath her garbage can lid. They never swept the walk. She was always thrilled when they were gone, their five dollar bills clutched in grubby hands.
Philip waited outside while Mildred locked up the house.
**************
“Please stand up and open your hymnal to page 249.”
Mildred flipped to the page and stood. The entire church seemed to creak and groan as the rest of the congregation rose in unison. The first mellow notes of “Just As I Am” swelled from the organ pipes. As she began to sing, Mildred stared at the Baptistry.
The tarp was still there. Mildred head learned from Philip that the glass was still on order. It might take a while for it to come in.
A rumbling shook the church. Mildred turned to look at her favorite window. Jesus’ rich red garments were dark, almost maroon. It had looked like rain when she left the house that morning, but now it was certain. Outside, wind began to assault the church. The church was getting darker. As she sang, she noticed Curtis Staley slip to the rear. Suddenly, the lights overhead grew brighter. Curtis returned to his seat.
“Aaaaaahhhhh…mennnnn.”
Mildred collected her pocketbook, then stopped to remove her small vinyl raincap. She tied it into place and began to make her way toward the exit. A group of people were talking to the pastor. She didn’t want to wait for his customary handshake. It was getting late. A quick check of her watch confirmed her fears. It was almost 12:15. Elby’s would be crowded today. And if it was raining, her journey would take much longer.
Mildred crept down the stairs, hugging the wooden railing. As Curtis opened the door for her, a gust of wind and rain tore at her pink dress. She was instantly soaked. She battled with her umbrella and made her way to the car.
Once inside the Cadillac, Mildred brushed the rain away from her cap and coat. Lord, it was awful outside. She thought about the trip to New Martinsville. It would be treacherous at best. Despite her car’s weight, the storm would toss her all over the road and Route 2 was difficult to maneuver on a good day.
She started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Ahead of her lay ten miles of heavy driving. Behind her, a few blocks. She circled the church and drove home.
The storm began to subside just as she pulled into her driveway. It was 12:30, way too late to change her mind. She mentally calculated the contents of her refrigerator. Surely she could whip up something for lunch. Ethel had given her some leftovers from one of her recent dinner parties. Perhaps that would do the trick.
Once inside and settled, Mildred rummaged through the freezer. She located several tin containers, all marked with Ethel’s scratchy handwriting. Beans, meatloaf, spaghetti…spaghetti sounded good. She removed the foil and looked at the contents. It was much more than she could eat. She could supplement it with some bread and butter. The phone rang.
Mildred answered. “Hello?”
“Hello Mildred.” It was Freda. “I thought I heard you drive up. I was wondering, do you have any sugar? The girls are coming by later and I was going to bake some cookies but I don’t have enough.”
“Why sure, Freda. Say, I was just getting ready to make lunch. Would you care to join me? I’ve got spaghetti ready to go into the baker.”
Mildred pictured the two of them, chatting over steaming plates of spaghetti and hoped Freda would say yes.
“Why don’t you bring it on over, Mildred. We can put it in the microwave.”
Mildred didn’t own a microwave. She had so many metal and foil dishes that buying a microwave never seemed necessary, though her kids had offered to buy her one many times.
“I’ll be right over.”
Freda’s house hadn’t changed much at all. By the time Mildred arrived, the storm had passed altogether. Freda had both kitchen windows and the kitchen door open. The room was scented with spring rain.
While Freda prepared a quick salad to accompany their meal, she said “I talked to that fella you hired to work in your yard. He’s such a nice young man. And that tree out front has never looked better. I think it may bloom this year.” Freda winked at her.
Mildred smiled. “Yes,” she said, “it just might.”
Copyright 1997-2008 by Sandra Manning.
