“Yes, I have—more than once. What has that got to do with anything?” Marsha growled.
“The women in that movie should be an example to all of us. They didn’t all come from the same social world, but they accepted each other with no holds barred. This conviction you have should include more than just Clara,” Bernie told her.
“I’ll start with my daughter, and even that won’t be an easy job with Mama living right next door to me,” Marsha said.
“You won’t get any victory unless you extend it further,” Bernie said. “If you want Clara to come home, askher yourself. But in my opinion, you need to love her for who she is right where she is—not just if she comes back to Fritch and buckles down to your rules. But hey, what do I know about all this sister feuding stuff? Vernie Sue and I have been at it longer than you and Mary Jane, and we sure ain’t been much of an example for the two of you.”
“You are right, Aunt Bernie, but I’m hoping that even though I’m past fifty, I can do things differently,” Marsha said.
“It’s possible, but only ifyouwork at it. This whole thing has parked on your shoulders, and it’s kind of hard to teach an old dog new tricks,” Bernie told her.
“But not impossible,” Marsha said. “It might even work between you and Mama if…”
“Don’t even go there,” Bernie warned.
“Okay, then I’ll just say good night and have a great Sunday, if you even acknowledge the Lord’s Day.” Evidently, Marsha had too much of her mother’s DNA flowing through her veins to leave things alone and not have to get in one last little dig.
“Darlin’ girl. I acknowledge God every day, not just when the church doors open. Good night to you, too.” She tapped the end icon on the screen of her phone. “I understand Hershal loving his goldfish so much now. Crazy as it sounds, that was his confidant, like you are mine, Pepper.”
The little dog wagged his tail.
“I figured at first I would take you to the nearest animal shelter, or maybe give you to one of the customers, but you have proved your worth. You don’t talk back when I tell you my secrets, and I’m about to tell you a big one,” she whispered.
Pepper seemed to glare at her.
“Your cute little face will freeze, and you won’t be able to eat or get a little sip of my Irish coffee in the morning if you don’t smile.” She could have sworn that she saw the dog’s expression change. “I just talked to Marsha, and can you believe that she wants me to…” She ranted and raved about the phone call until she figured out that the bar would close in ten minutes. “Enough about that. Thanks for listening, but right now, the kids should be closing up the bar, and we have to get the whiskey poured up so that we’re ready for our Saturday night therapy session.”
“Aunt Bernie?” Clara’s voice floated through the apartment. “We need you in the bar. Someone is in crisis and won’t leave until she talks to you.”
“I’ll be right there,” Bernie grumbled. “What are they going to do without me? Maybe I got too hasty about selling out and moving to the Paradise. I’m needed here.”
But you are needed more in Texas,the annoying voice in her head reminded her.
“I’m going to miss this,” she whispered to Pepper as she headed across the room. “But it’ll be a small price to pay if I can get all seven of Mary Jane’s girls settled down and starting a family. I want to live long enough to seeMary Jane’s grandchildren running around in that big old house. I’ve got more years behind me now than I’ve got in front of me, so I have to get busy.”
Viola, a regular customer for the last thirty years, was sitting in the corner with at least four empty shot glasses on her table. Mascara had turned her tears into black streaks running down her cheeks. “Oh, Bernie, what am I going to do?” she sobbed.
Bernie pulled a chair close to her, sat down, and draped an arm around her shoulders. “The first thing you can do is talk to me,” she said.
Viola left a smear of black across her cheek when she swiped the tears away. “He’s finally done it, Bernie.”
“What did he do? Drop dead? Did he leave behind an insurance policy?”
“Hell, no!” Viola hiccupped. “I wouldn’t be crying if he’d died. He left me, and not even for a younger woman like he always said he would. He kicked me out of the house and moved Darlene Branan in with him. She’s got to be seventy years old if she’s a day, and from what I hear she’s got money from her dead husband’s insurance. Poor man ain’t been dead but a month, and she ain’t got the sense God gave a rock. Claude will have that money in his bank account within the week.”
“When did all this happen?” Bernie asked.
“When I came home from working a double shift at the café in Duncan,” she answered. “I’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s even cleaned out our joint checkingaccount.”
“Did you do what I told you to do a couple of years ago?”
Viola nodded. “I have been putting all my overtime money in a separate bank account.”
“Then you put on your big-girl panties, pull up your bootstraps, and go find a cheap motel for a couple of nights. Rent your own place over in Duncan and move on with your life. You are only sixty years old, girl. It’s not time for you to lie down and die over a cheating bastard like Claude Wilson. You gave him twenty years of your life. That’s enough, and when he comes crying to you because he can’t make rent or buy a six-pack of beer on his salary, tell him to go to hell,” Bernie told her. “Unless his new woman is willing to support his expensive tastes, he’s going to have to get a full-time job.”
Viola stood up and nodded. “I know that’s what I need to do, but I just needed to hear you say it. I can stay with a friend a couple of days until I find a place. And if I ever even think of getting married again, shoot me with that sawed-off shotgun you’ve got under the counter. I’ll write up a permission slip saying I made you do it, so you won’t have to go to jail.”
“I don’t imagine it will come to that,” Bernie got to her feet and gave her a sideways hug. “You’ve learned your lesson. Now it’s time to prove to yourself and to him that you are independent and strong without a man.”
