He Always Had A Thing For Redheads

[Hermy]

*This is the one successful short story I ever wrote - it's from one of my college classes. I really like it. It's sort of long though - bear with me. I don't have the disk it's on, so I'm having to completely retype it.


"Ruthie, come on! I can NOT miss this!" Ezra stressed the not loud and clear in her Appalachian twang. She picked up the wedding picture of Ruthie and her husband that sat in the hall leading to the front door. She brushed the dust off the glass, then set it back down on the table under the lamp, fidgeting impatiently.

"Honestly, Ezzie, I don't know what you're looking to get out of this. All this new-fangled hocus-pocus bunk." Ruthie stepped into the hall, pulling up her tan Summer Essence pantyhose. "Besides, that's an awful lot of money. Think of all the stuff you could do with it. Thirty dollars. That's enough for a month of Sundays at the Bingo Room."

"I can play Bingo whenever I get the notion. But when am I going to get the chance to talk to Martin like this again?"

Ruthie looked at her friend, at the bright red hair that had never been natural, at the layers of rouge and lipstick and mascara, at the blue appliqued blouse that was a little too tight around the bosom. She sighed. "Ezzie, you don't really believe in this do you? I mean, this is just a Saturday afternoon of fun. Right?"

"It's been almost three years since he died, Ruthie. I didn't get to talk to him in his last hours cause he was on the road that week out in Springfield. Now, I loved him a lot, and it hurts that I didn't get to talk to him one last time. And what if he had something important to say to me?

You really think some strange city boy can come in here and conjure up Martin for you to talk to? Just like that?"

Ezra sighed and tried stretching her blouse a bit bigger across the chest. Why Ruthie had to be the skinny one she never knew, but it always hurt that they could eat the same amount at the church potlucks without Ruthie gaining an ounce. And that long black hair that was so thick - and natural! Boy that rubbed Ezra the wrong way. "I don't know if he can or not, but I want to find out. You wouldn't understand. You don't love Roy the way I loved Martin."

"He**, I don't love Roy at all. You're the lucky one from my point of view." Ruthie glanced at her watch. "We better get going. There's not much parking at the church and I don't want to have to walk in these heels."

"You don't think we'll be the only ones there, do you?"

"Are you kidding me? Not with all the ghosts in this town. Come on."

***************

Three years ago, Ezra Wilson had lost her husband. He was a traveling insurance salesman - one of a dying breed - and had been going through the Piedmont district the night she got the call. He was in Springfield, a larger town of about ten thousand, when he had a heart attack at one of the local bars. She had always told him drinking would be his end but she had meant kidney failure or liver disease, something that would let her be at his side as he wasted away. The sheriff had called her house at two o'clock in the morning and she knew as soon as she picked up the phone that he was gone.

The funeral was long and hot and miserable. If it hadn't been for Ruthie, there probably wouldn't have been a funeral because Ezra had walked around in a daze for three weeks. The worst part was when a package arrived for Ezra. It turned out to be a last gift from Martin, a new charm for her precious charm bracelet. It had been a tradition for years that every time Martin was gone for more than a week, he would send her a new charm. When she pulled out the dainty silver hourglass, it was too much. She had burst into tears right in the middle of the post office. The only thing she remembered to do was get her hair retouched on Wednesday and to eat. Not that she cooked, though, which left Ruthie to cook for her family and for Ezra for the first two weeks. After two weeks, Ezra became a regular at the burger joint on the corner. It had taken Ruthie a month to get her out of that phase until finally Ezra started cooking again.

Now all she did was talk to Ruthie while Roy was at work. Sometimes they went to get their hair done and sometimes they went to the store, but most of the time they just sat around watching their stories on TV in the afternoon and cooking in the evening. That was enough for them. Neither one of them had ever lived outside of the town and had never thought of it. They had both married right out of high school and had been happy with it - for the most part. Lately Ruthie was getting tired of Roy and his drinking (a habit he had shared with Martin) but it wasn't the end of the marriage. No, for the most part, both of them had incredibly solid, normal, boring lives.

[Hermy]

Ezra and Ruthie pulled into the church parking lot at a quarter to four. Ruthie swung her outdated Buick into the last parking space with a smug smile. She reached into the backseat and grabbed her purse and was standing outside, keys in hand, before she realized that Ezra was still seated in the passenger seat. She stuck her head back in. "Ezzie?"

"I can't do this, Ruthie."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't do it, Ruthie." Ezra wiped her palms across her blue lap. "What if I find out something I don't want to know?"

"Good lord! Ezra Wilson, this man is a kook. He never knew Martin and he's not meeting him today! This is all just good fun, remember?"

Ezra nodded. "Yeah. Fun."

"Now hurry up so we can get a good seat. I don't want to miss a minute of this." Ruthie started off toward the church fellowship hall without her friend. But she slowed down when she heard the old blue door creaked open as Ezra climbed out and slammed it shut.

"Wait up, will you? I don't want to walk in there alone." Ezra puffed her way to Ruthie's side as they made their way into the church.

Folding chairs had been set up in rows in front of a makeshift stage. There looked to be about twenty rows of padded putrid green chairs that had served so many functions before. Ezra couldn't help but wonder how many of those chairs she had sat in over the years. They made their way towards the front in order to get a good seat.

"Not too close, Ruthie. I want him to see me, but I don't want to be the first one. Let's sit here, on the aisle." Ezra pointed to the chairs in the sixth row back, then waited until Ruthie had sat down before she eased herself onto the green padding. She stuffed her purse under her chair and watched as Ruthie did the same with hers. "I am so nervous. I know you don't believe in this sort of thing, but he really is quite famous for this stuff."

Ruthie patted her arm. "I know he is, hon, and I'm sure he'll answer your questions for you."

Ezra shook her head. "It doesn't work like that. He comes to you when someone speaks to him. See, Martin has to talk to him before he'll talk to me. I can't just ask him to go find Martin."

"Oh." Ruthie wisely shut her mouth and pretended to look at the pamphlet she had been handed at the door. It was bright pink, so bright in fact that the black lettering on it swam in front of her eyes. She blinked a few times and gave up on trying to read about the performer and next Sunday's building fund meeting. Instead, she looked around at the people who were already there.

In the front row, right where Ruthie knew she'd be, sat the mayor's wife, Belinda Dunn. Undoubtedly, she was here to find out if her long-gone daughter was walking around on the other side with a reason as to why she threw herself out of her bedroom window one winter night ten years ago. Beside her was her best friend, Prudence Filmore. Prudence was most likely pretending to be there for moral support, but Ruthie suspected that she wanted to resurrect Troy Shirtluff, with whom she had had an affair until it ended when Troy's wife found them in bed and shot them both. Prudence had been lucky; Adelaide had only hit her in the arm, but had nailed Troy right between the eyes. Behind them sat Sophie Johnson, the elderly high school math teacher, and her dear friend Minnie Cates, the retired seamstress. Ruthie couldn't quite figure out what they were there for since both of them were held in high regard in the community and didn't seem to have any skeletons in their closets. Perhaps they were there for observation, like her.

A few more people trickled in and took the seats behind Ezra and Ruthie. It was starting to get crowded and hot. Ruthie kept listening for the loud shouts that usually went along with such a gathering, but they never came. Something was keeping people from talking. She didn't know what it was, but figured nobody wanted to admit they were there for any reason other than to watch.

Ezra wouldn't quite looking at her watch and rubbing her hands across her lap, then twisting a charm on her bracelet. Every now and then she'd throw a look over her shoulder as if she expected Martin to walk up behind her at any moment. Ruthie decided she was doing a poor job of hiding her reason for being there.

"Ezzie, if you don't stop, you're going to wear a hole in that skirt!"

Ezra looked at her knees guiltily, then shrugged. She always fidgeted when she was nervous. "Oh Ruthie, I just wish they'd get on with it. It's four already. Doesn't this man know not to keep us country folk waiting?"

Ruthie shook her head. "Apparently not. I guess maybe he'll learn after today."

Ezra laughed a little as she thought about her country folk teaching the city boy a lesson. Ruthie was glad to see her smile, although it didn't last long. Just then, the lights in the room blinked. A man walked onto the plywood stage in front of the sweaty throng. Dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a dark green golf shirt, he stood out from everyone else in the room who had dressed in their Sunday best. But he walked across the stage to the microphone without hesitation and suddenly, the crowd was his.


*****************

I'll post more tomorrow.

[Man in Black]

I think the crowd is yours Hermy. This is wonderfully written. I love the style and the flow, there is just the right amount of everything. I think I know where you are going with this but I can't wait to read the rest.

[Hermy]

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." His voice was smooth and deep, one which could easily hypnotize an audience. "I am Conner Conley. I am here to bring you back in touch with loved ones long gone. Now the process is simple, folks. The spirit comes to me. You can't ask me to talk to spirits, they have to come to me. Are we ready to begin?"

The crowd applauded, then died down. Ruthie was astounded by the silence in the room, mixed with the humid summer heat. It was almost enough to make her pass out. But she was disappointed with the man. Where was the fanfare? The crystal ball? The magic cape? Thirty dollars seemed a lot to pay for a regular old city boy.

"Give me a moment to focus..." He bowed his head for a moment, then raised it back up. "Belle?" He walked out into the audience to a woman in the third row and touched her permed blonde head. "Oswald wants you to know he loves you and that the money is okay."

Belle turned bright red at the mention of the money. Ruthie tried to figure out what money the man was talking about. Belle was the local hairdresser, so she didn't have a fortune, and Oswald had been the warden at the county jail when he was stabbed by an inmate trying to escape. They had been engaged when he was killed, but both of them were pretty poor. "I don't know..." she stammered, but the man had moved on. Ruthie gazed at the younger woman for a minute before shrugging and turning her attention back to Conner Conley.

He walked to the front row and knelt in front of Bleinda Dunn, running his fingers through his almost-black hair. He placed his hand on her knee. "Hannah apologizes. She says she didn't want to hurt you or Daddy but that she couldn't take it anymore. She was tired of hiding. She won't reveal her secret here, but says to read her journal to find out. It's in her closet under the loose floorboard. She loves you." He stood up and moved on, as Belinda buried her face in her hands and wept. Prudence looked up at him expectantly, but he walked past her without a second glance.

As Conner moved toward them, Ruthie examined him closely. He was well over six feet tall, and his long skinny nose and close-set brown eyes made him look like a mouse. She wondered how he ever got anyone to trust him. Ruthie glanced over at Ezra and watched her watch Conner. Ezra was transfixed by Conner Conley, even as she sat there trembling. She watched, fidgeting, as he walked towards her, then knelt beside her in the aisle.

"Ezra. Martin says hello. He has something to tell you. He didn't want to tell you here, but there's no other way." Conner took Ezra's hand in his. "Ezra, Martin was cheating on you for three years with a woman in Springfield named Wanda Oakley. He was with her the night he died in the bar. But he says he never stopped loving you and that he will be sorry forever." He let go of Ezra's hand, but did not walk away. He stayed knelt beside her and watched her cry, as if Martin were using his eyes as well as his voice. Finally, he stood. He walked to some people behind them, but neither Ezra nor Ruthie watched him go.

Ezra was sobbing. Her whole body shook and her makeup began to run. Ruthie threw her arms around her friend. "Oh, Ezzie. I'm so sorry. I'm sure that he was just making it up. Remember? He's just a city boy. A kook."

Ezra looked at her friend long and hard. "Ruthie, he knew he died in a bar."

The man behind them tapped Ruthie on the shoulder. "Can you two keep it down? I'm trying to hear what he's saying to Melvin."

Ruthie craned her neck to look at where Conner Conley was standing talking to the burley plumber. "Your father says he likes what you've done with the business," she heard him say.

"Hey Ruthie, you ready to leave?"

"Ezzie, you don't want to stay and find out the rest?"

Ezra shook her head like a little girl. "I want to go home and think."

Ruthie had never heard her friend want time to think. "Okay, Ezzie, we'll go." She reached under their chairs and picked up both their purses.

[Hermy]

But before they could leave, Conner Conley ran from the back of the room to the front and stood facing Prudence. "What are you doing here?" he boomed out at her. She shrank before him. "Troy says you're nothing but a penny-pinching b**** and that he never should have slept with you! Adelaide is twice the woman you are and a d*** good shot, too! He says you ought to hide your face in shame and never come back to church because the likes of you don't belong in a place like this!" Conner's face was red, as the dead man's anger coursed through his body.

Prudence was sitting as far back in her chair as possible. Her cheeks were as crimson as the man's in front of her, but she held her head high. Belinda was horror-stricken beside her, leaning away from her friend as if trying to escape a disease. Conner turned towards her. "And you! Don't back away from Prudence like she's some kind of monster. At least she didn't drive her daughter to suicide. You wanna know what that precious journal of hers says? It says she's a lesbian, Belinda. That's right. Now who's the monster?" Belinda shrieked in horror. Conner's head drooped and Troy stopped his rampage.

As quickly as he had begun, Conner ended, claiming Troy had zapped him out. He shook his head a few time and ran his fingers through his now tousled hair, before clasping his hands in front of his chest. "Well, folks, it has been interesting. I do appreciate your time and hope that I helped a few of you sort out some things. Good evening." He bowed deeply and left the stage, walking through the door beside him into the kitchen which was serving as his dressing room.

No one got up and no one clapped. It was as if a spell had been put on them but had not been released. Finally, Ezra stood up. "I'm leaving, da**it. Come on, Ruthie."

Her words had broken the silence and, as the two women left, the crowd began to whisper, then murmur, then speak. Everyone had an opinion and everyone wanted to be heard.

"I paid thirty dollars for a freak show. Heck, I could've watched TV and gotten more out it. That's a darned rip-off!"

"Can you believe what Troy said to Prudence?"

"Can you believe what Troy said to Belinda?"

"I want my money back."

"Speaking of money, I wonder what Belle's hiding?"

"And what about Martin? Poor Ezra."

The voices got louder as Ezra and Ruthie walked away from them, as they all filled up the room trying to take control. Finally, they made it to the door and shut it all behind them. They walked to the car in silence. The ten-minute ride out to Ezra's house was made in silence. Ruthie was afraid that her friend was still in shock. She was right.

"You know, Ruthie. I was married to Martin for more than thirty years. I thought I could trust him. I gave that man everything I had, emotionally and physically. I tried my best to make him happy, and he repays me by embarrassing me in front of the whole town." Tears were running down her face in blue mascara streaks. She fumbled in her purse for a tissue and pulled out a pink wad, blowing her nose and dabbing her eyes. "I can't help but wonder what she looks like, though. Probably a skinny young thing. With red hair. Definitely a redhead. He always had a thing for redheaded women, you know."

Ruthie glanced at the roots showing on Ezra's head and sighed, patting her shoulder. "I don't know what to say, Ezzie. I mean, the man could have been just pulling your leg."

"But he knew too many details."

"For all we know, somebody on the inside could have briefed him before he got here just so he could put on a show. I mean, that stuff about Belle and the money was really weird. That woman hadn't ever had money. And there's no way Belinda's girl was a lesbian."

Ezra thought about all that. "Maybe you're right. But if all those were secrets and Martin had a secret then we're all out luck, aren't we?"

Ruthie shrugged. "You coming over for dinner tonight?"

"No. I think I just want to be alone for a while. Maybe I'll go to Reuben's later but I need to think." Ezra smiled at her friend. "Thanks for going with me." She climbed out of the car and walked up her sagging steps to her sagging porch and through her wobbly screen door.

Ruthie put the car into gear and drove home.

***********************

I'll finish the rest next time.

[Hermy]

Ezra walked into her house and up the stairs to her bedroom. She looked at herself in the mirror and almost started crying again at the thought of people having seen her in such disrepair. She walked down the hall to the bathroom and washed her face off, staring at the dark blue smudges on the pink washcloth in her hands. Then she went back to her room and changed out of her skirt and blouse and dropped across the bed.

She sat up straight again when she realized that she was lying on the bed she had shared with a cheater. She picked up her wedding photo that still sat beside the bed, on her side. "Oh, Martin. Why didn't you just let me live on in peace? Couldn't you just leave things alone for once? All I wanted was to say I love you and you had to go and ruin things. You always were a little spiteful. Guess it serves me right for going to that thing anyway." She ran her hand across his smiling face, then placed the frame back on the nightstand.

Her stomach grumbled so she walked downstairs. There was still a piece of Ruthie's chocolate cake left in the kitchen and Ezra slid it onto a plate and poured herself a glass of milk. She sat down with a heavy sigh at the old formica table that was ten years too old. Each bite seemed to taste bitter and the only sound that reached her ears was the heavy ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. She forced the last bite down and drained her glass. She took the dishes to the sink, dropping them among the others already buried in a day's crust. Then she shuffled her way into the living room and lay down on the couch. It wasn't long before she fell asleep, clutching the now yellow lace pillow her mother had sewn for her as a wedding gift.

"Ezra! Are you in there?"

Ezra started awake at the sound of Ruthie's voice. It was dark in the house now and she could hear the crickets outside. She sat up and switched on a lamp. "Yeah, I'm here. Come on in, Ruthie." She heard the screen door screech and bang, then listened as Ruthie's footsteps came up behind her.

"You doing alright?" Ruthie walked around the couch and sat down beside her.

"I reckon I am."

"Have you eaten?"

"I had the last piece of your cake."

"You going to church tomorrow?"

"I might."

"You want some company tonight? Just for a little while? Roy's playing Hearts with the boys, so I didn't want to stick around for that."

Ezra sighed. "Why don't you turn the TV on?"

Ruthie walked over to the set and switched it on. "One day you'll get yourself a remote, Ezzie. Really, it makes life easier."

Ezra huffed. "We'll see."

Ruthie flipped the channels before settling on Murder, She Wrote. Then she walked back over to the couch and sat down. They watched in silence, their normal sleuthing banter forgotten for once.

[Hermy]

Ezra didn't go to church the next morning. But she was up, nonetheless, at eight o'clock, same as always. She lay in bed for an hour, staring out the window and watching the curtains flap in the breeze. Finally, she climbed out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She set the percolator on the stove and dropped some bread in the toaster, then sat at the table and waited. Back when Martin was alive, he would make the coffee and she would make the toast and eggs. Then while they were waiting, he would read to her from the Reader's Digest Ruthie passed along. It was the same every morning, but still happy. They never really talked, but it had never mattered to Ezra.

She decided to take a walk after breakfast and found that her feet led her to the family graveyard down the road. Martin was buried behind the low chain that hung between two posts to keep out traffic. Ezra stepped over the chain that hung knee-high to her. She walked past her mother's grave, her father's grave, and her brother's grave, straight to where Martin was buried. The bench in front of his grave had been Ruthie's idea and now Ezra was glad she had thought of it. She sat on it and stared at the tombstone in front of her.

Martin Howard Wilson
Beloved Husband
September 25, 1937 - July 15, 1990

"Beloved husband," she whispered. It was all that she said. She sat there for a long time, just staring at the words as if she could erase them if she looked hard enough. Eventually she stood, ready to leave. She looked at the tombstone one last time, then turned and left, stepping over the chain once more and making her way home.

It was lunchtime by the time she got back. She figured Ruthie would stop by after church to check on her, so she decided to fix a nice little lunch they could eat on the porch. She opened a can of tuna and chopped up some onion, mixing it all together with a glob of mayonnaise. She stuck the bowl in the refrigerator to get cold while she made a pitcher of sweet tea. By the time the kettle whistled, Ruthie was pulling to a stop out front.

"Stay out on the porch, Ruthie, and I'll bring lunch out," Ezra called out the kitchen window. She loaded several slices of bread onto a tray and heaped the tuna salad into the round indention in the middle. She took the tray out, then went back in for the tea and some glasses.

"I missed you this morning."

"Hmm." Ezra didn't want to talk. Her stomach was grumbling. She'd talk after she got it quiet.

"It was a good sermon. Brother Elijah sure can get worked up sometimes." Ruthie kept talking as she fixed her sandwiches and poured her tea. She finally stopped when she took a bite.

They ate for a little bit, then Ezra sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I went to visit Martin this morning."

"Why'd you do that?"

"I had to talk to him about a few things. So I went and sat on the bench."

"And did you talk to him?"

"Of course not. You can't talk to dead people. But I thought a lot of things in my mind."

Ruthie was quiet for a moment. "Have you decided whether or not you believe that man? Today at church, Belinda was in quite a stir. It was pretty obvious that Hannah's journal said exactly what Troy predicted. And Belle is nowhere to be found."

"What about Prudence?"

"Oh, she was there, high and mighty as always. That woman has no conscience."

"Hmm."

"You know, Ezzie, we could always drive out to Springfield just to see if there really is a Wanda Oakley."

Ezra laughed. "Oh, Ruthie, I don't want to know if she's real or not."

"What? You mean you don't want to..."

"No. I don't want to know. Maybe there isn't a Wanda Oakley. Maybe it's like you said. Somebody gave the man some information about people and he took it from there so that he could perform. Or maybe there is a Wanda Oakley who was sleeping with my husband for three years. But I don't have to find out."

"Don't you want to know?"

"Not really. Ruthie, I had been happy all fifty years of my life up until yesterday. I had a good family, a good husband, and a good friend. Now why would I want to go turn that all upside down when I can simply choose to believe that man was a fraud?"

"I don't know. Peace of mind?"

"I was perfectly peaceful without knowing about Wanda, and I can continue to be so. In my mind, Martin is going to be a faithful husband and he is going to have loved only me. No one can change that. No one can prove anything other than that. Besides, what would I do if I found out there really is a Wanda Oakley? I couldn't kill her, which is what I'd want to do, so I'd get no satisfaction from knowing."

Ruthie sat and looked at her friend. It took her a while to realize Ezra was serious. She started to question her friend's thinking, but then she thought about her own life, her husband at home who hated her job and never took her anywhere anymore. And she remembered how many times Martin had brought presents back to Ezra and how he had taken her out to dinner at least once a week when he was home. She smiled at her friend in understanding. "Martin was a good husband and you lucky to have him. Da**ed lucky."

Ezra nodded silently and patted her friend on the arm, the jingle of her charm bracelet the only sound on the porch.

[Man in Black]

More good writing sis. I am really looking forward to more