The Scent of Lilacs Read online

  Jocie didn’t usually have all that much problem asking questions. She interviewed practically the whole town for the Fourth of July article that was supposed to run in next week’s Banner a week before the town’s parade and celebration. She started with Mayor Palmor and got the expected responses. The flag, parades, civic pride, fireworks, patriotic speeches. Randy Simmons, the chief of police, said pretty much the same with an added pitch for celebrating in a responsible way. Judge Blakemore mentioned the military, since he had a son in Vietnam. Betty Moore, the city clerk, talked about family picnics.

  Jocie even threw a few questions out at Leigh Jacobson, but they weren’t the ones she really wanted to ask. Like why are you interested in my dad? And do you like dogs? And did you know that my dad thinks being a preacher’s wife is a calling just like being a preacher? And by the way, have you been getting any calls? From God?

  Instead she asked if Leigh liked the Fourth, and Leigh smiled at her and said, “Who wouldn’t like the Fourth, with fireworks and a day off from work and watermelon and hot dogs?” She didn’t say the first thing about the flag, and by the time Jocie asked all her Fourth of July questions, she was beginning to almost like Leigh a little. She even dared throw in one extra question—what was Leigh’s favorite thing to cook for the Fourth?

  When Leigh said chocolate cake with chocolate icing, it seemed like some kind of sign. Jocie needed a chocolate cake with chocolate icing for Tabitha’s birthday on Saturday, and that wasn’t something Leigh could have found out about unless maybe Wes had told her. It was almost enough to make Jocie ask Leigh where to shop for bras, but instead she asked her to help her bake the birthday cake. And of course, after she asked Leigh to help bake the cake, she couldn’t very well not invite her over to help eat it.

  Then she had to ask Zella because Leigh called up and blabbed to Zella all about the party Jocie was having for Tabitha. Zella came straight back to the pressroom to corner Jocie, and what could Jocie do but say, “Oh, Zella, didn’t I tell you? It’s just going to be cake and tea or lemonade. Nothing much.”

  “But I have been so anxious to see Tabitha,” Zella said. “I keep expecting her to stop in when she comes to town.”

  “I don’t think she’s come to town since she’s been home. She just wants to stay home and sit in the sun. Says tans are harder to get here than in California.”

  “The same sun shines here as out there,” Zella asked.

  “Well, yeah, I guess. But she says you tan better if there’s an ocean around. Here she says you just sweat.”

  “Horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies glisten.” Zella fished a pink tissue out from under the waistband of her rose-colored skirt and dabbed her glistening forehead. “Do you need me to bring anything Saturday? Perhaps some of those little pastel mints?”

  “Sure, if you want to.”

  “Is Aunt Love helping you make the cake?” Zella raised her eyebrows.

  Jocie could tell she was fishing, but sometimes the easiest way to get Zella out of the pressroom was to go ahead and play her games. “No. I figured you knew Leigh was going to help me with the cake.”

  “Oh, that’s right. She did tell me that,” Zella said as if she had just remembered. She looked particularly pleased with herself. “I’ve eaten her chocolate cake. It’s delicious.”

  Wes waited until Zella went back out front to her desk before he said, “Next thing she’ll want to be bridesmaid at the wedding.”

  “Wedding? Whoa, I just asked Leigh to help me bake a cake,” Jocie said.

  “A birthday cake today. A wedding cake tomorrow. Or whenever.”

  “I should’ve just bought a cake mix.” Jocie sank down on the stool in front of the composing table.

  “No, no. You’ve made two women very happy.”

  “Maybe I should warn Dad.”

  “Might be a good idea.”

  “And Tabitha. And Aunt Love.”

  “You haven’t told your Aunt Love you’re planning a party?”

  “I wasn’t planning a party. I was just planning for you to come over, and Aunt Love doesn’t care if you see dust on the piano, but now we’ll have to scrub down the walls and wash the woodwork. I won’t get to do anything but clean till Saturday.”

  “Well, at least you’ll have Tabitha to help you.”

  “Aunt Love doesn’t make Tabitha do anything, not even set the table or peel potatoes. And if I say anything about it, Aunt Love just quotes me some Scripture that as far as I can tell has nothing at all to do with me or Tabitha, and then she tells me I shouldn’t be worrying about what other people do, just what I do.”

  “Not bad advice,” Wes said.

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?” Jocie demanded.

  “Hold on. I ain’t got no sides in this battle. I’ll just hang out on the sidelines and watch the fireworks from there.”

  “But it’s not fair, Wes. I mean, I’m glad Tabitha’s home and everything, but it’s like she sent her body home but the rest of her stayed out in California.” Jocie picked up a pen and began clicking the tip in and out as she talked.

  Wes sat down on the stool next to her and picked up another pen to click in rhythm with hers. “’Bout the only thing you can expect to be fair is the weather every so often.”

  “Or the face of a pretty girl or a passing grade or the county or state fairs. Why are they called fairs? Why not greats?” Jocie didn’t wait for an answer. She just threw out the question she really wanted answered. “I mean, why did she come home if she didn’t want to?”

  “To answer somebody’s prayers?”

  Jocie dropped the pen on the desk. “She didn’t know I was praying. She thought it was hilarious when I told her about the sister prayer.”

  “Well, then what is it your pop is always saying?—the Lord works in mysterious ways.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Well, just think about it. You’re going to be baking a cake with Leigh Jacobson. Who’d have thought that would ever happen two weeks ago?”

  It did seem weird biking to Leigh Jacobson’s house on Friday afternoon. Jocie had hardly had a moment to do anything but scrub since she’d told Aunt Love about inviting Leigh and Zella to come for birthday cake Saturday afternoon. She’d had to wash every window in the house while Aunt Love was doing up the curtains. Then the floors had needed sweeping and mopping and shining, and the refrigerator had had to be defrosted and cleaned out. Thank goodness they only had three days to get ready or Aunt Love would have had them painting the house inside and out. As it was, her father had had to paint the porch floor.

  Tabitha had watched them working, had even helped iron some of the curtains for Aunt Love when Aunt Love’s face turned extra pink one hot afternoon. Nobody had told Tabitha why they were cleaning. She thought they were just having an attack of spring cleaning fever, even if it was the middle of the summer. Jocie had convinced her father it would be fun to surprise Tabitha, who hadn’t mentioned her birthday coming up one time. Maybe she thought they’d forgotten when her birthday was. But that wasn’t the real reason Jocie hadn’t wanted to tell Tabitha about the birthday party. If nobody asked her, she couldn’t say no.

  Jocie kept telling herself that surely Tabitha would be happy to have a party. It was just Zella and Wes. They were practically family. And of course Leigh, who wanted to be family. This would be a good test to see if Jocie should campaign for or against that idea.

  Jocie had shaken some quarters out of her piggy bank and gone to the Five and Dime store to buy Tabitha some nail polish and a brush and comb. She’d thought about buying her a new shirt or some shorts. As far as Jocie could tell, Tabitha only had two things she could wear besides her bathing suit, and they looked a little tight. Aunt Love’s cooking wasn’t great, but it must have been better than what Tabitha had been getting in California. But Jocie didn’t have enough money for anything from the Fashion Shop, and besides, she had to save some in case she had to make an emergency bra run before school started.

>   She cringed at the idea of asking Mrs. Headley at the Fashion Shop to show her a bra. Mrs. Headley kept all the underwear in white boxes on shelves behind the counter and pulled them out one box at a time to lay the panties out on the counter. Mrs. Headley or Miss Paulie asked you for a size, but if you didn’t know, they gave you the eye and matched you up with the right size. Jocie was afraid they might not have any sizes to match her top part in the underwear department. They’d probably just laugh her out of the shop.

  But she didn’t have to worry about that now. It was still weeks and weeks before school. Maybe Tabitha would wake up from her zombie state and offer to go to Grundy to help her school shop. Even if she didn’t wear bras, she’d know about them. After all, she was going to be twenty on her birthday Saturday.

  Leigh lived in an apartment in the upstairs of an old house on Water Street. When Jocie climbed the stairs, Leigh pulled open the door before Jocie could knock. Mrs. Simpson, the owner of the house, lived downstairs and complained about noises. Leigh practically tiptoed as she led the way back across the kitchen to the table, where a couple of iced soft drinks were still bubbling beside a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

  Jocie’s eyes slid around the kitchen taking in the light green tile counters, the yellow sink, and the white stove and refrigerator gleaming in the afternoon sunlight pouring through the window over the sink. No curtains hindered the light or the scant air drifting in the open window. A pink fringed violet bloomed on the window sill. A wooden cutting board with a large sunflower painted on it hung on the wall beside the stove. Fruit-shaped magnets were scattered across the top of the refrigerator door. Under the apple was the picture of Mt. Pleasant Church’s new interim pastor and family.

  Jocie didn’t let her eyes linger on it but instead looked through the door into the living room, where she spotted a stereo. Just for something to say, she asked, “What happens when you want to dance?”

  Leigh smiled. “I put on a waltz and dance sedately with my broom.” Leigh’s smile got wider. “Or I climb up on the couch and do the twist. So far I haven’t fallen off and through the ceiling.”

  Jocie laughed.

  “You think I’m kidding?” Leigh went into the living room, slipped a forty-five rpm record out of a wire holder and put it on. Chubby Checker’s voice urging everybody to come on and do the twist came through the speakers. Leigh threw the cushions off the couch and demonstrated. Everything about her was bouncing and twisting as she let the music take her over. Jocie jumped on one of the couch cushions on the floor and joined in.

  When the song ended, Leigh stepped off the couch and fanned her face with her hand. “See, it’s not too noisy that way. Of course, Mrs. Simpson still complains about the music, but there are some things you just have to do anyway.” She turned on an oscillating fan and then stacked some more forty-fives on the turntable. “Elvis is the very best music for making chocolate cakes. They should put his picture on the cake mix instead of Betty Crocker’s.”

  The strains of “Love Me Tender” followed them back to the kitchen, where Leigh gulped down her soft drink before she pulled an index card out of a recipe box and handed it to Jocie. “This is my mother’s recipe. She’s a great cook. One reason I’m too heavy. The other is that I like to cook too, and there’s nobody but me to eat it, and it’s a sin to be wasteful. Of course, it’s a sin to be a glutton too.”

  “I’m sure you’re not a glutton,” Jocie said politely. She looked at the card. “I didn’t bring any flour or stuff with me, but I could ride my bike over to the market on Model Street.”

  “No need for that,” Leigh said as she took some butter out of the refrigerator. “I’ve got everything you’ll need. Even birthday candles.”

  “Tabitha may think she’s too old to blow out candles,” Jocie said.

  “Nobody ever gets too old for birthday wishes.” Leigh held out the spoon. “You want to cream the butter?”

  “If it won’t mess up the cake if I do it wrong.”

  “You can’t do it wrong. You just mash the heck out of it.”

  Jocie took the spoon and attacked the stick of butter Leigh had dropped in the mixing bowl on the counter. In the next room, a new record dropped down and Elvis was belting out “Hound Dog.” Jocie kept mashing and thought about her father listening to Elvis. He liked Tennessee Ernie Ford. Singing hymns. Maybe her father was right. Maybe Leigh was too young for him.

  Jocie peeked over at Leigh, who was standing beside her, watching her smash the butter. Jocie wondered just how old Leigh was. It was hard to tell. She looked way older than Tabitha and not nearly as old as Zella. She’d obviously been out of school awhile. She’d been working at the courthouse as long as Jocie could remember.

  Of course, Jocie hadn’t paid much attention to who worked where until a couple of years back. When she went to the courthouse with her father, she was more interested in the way her footsteps echoed in the hallway and how fast she could run up the winding staircase. She liked bouncing her voice off the marble walls and then slipping into the clerk’s office to hide among the deed books when the sheriff’s deputy came out into the hall to see who was disturbing the peace.

  The first time she remembered seeing Leigh was when she was around ten and Leigh had given Jocie a nickel to put in the Lion’s Club gumball dispenser. Jocie could always get free gum at the courthouse by standing by the gumball machine with sad eyes. The reason she remembered Leigh was that Leigh put in a nickel for herself as well and they’d both crossed their fingers and hoped for a blue gumball. Two blue gumballs had popped out of the machine. It was one of those times when Jocie felt as if she’d wasted a miracle, that she should have crossed her fingers and wished for something important like world peace or a letter from her mother instead of a blue gumball.

  She said, “Do you remember the time we got the blue gumballs?”

  “I do,” Leigh said as she measured sugar and added it to the mashed butter in the bowl. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten another blue gumball out of that machine since then.”

  “Did you know who I was then?”

  “Well, sure I did. You were the noisy brat Deputy Karsner kept threatening to put in jail if he ever collared you.”

  Jocie grinned. “Daddy used to threaten to turn me in.”

  “The sheriff talked about putting up a wanted poster,” Leigh said.

  “Surely I wasn’t the only kid who liked to stomp my feet and make echoes in the courthouse hall.”

  “No indeed. Just the one who was there the most and whose daddy never told you to pipe down.” Leigh broke a couple of eggs into a bowl and beat them for a few seconds before adding them to Jocie’s mixing bowl. “It never bothered me. I still wear my clickiest shoes so I can break up the silence of the place. It’s like a tomb in that hallway when nobody’s around.”

  “Did you grow up here in Hollyhill? I mean, I guess you did. Everybody who works at the courthouse grew up here.”

  “Nope, not me.” Leigh made a paste of cocoa and hot water to add to the cake mixture. “Now stir that in fast.”

  Jocie stirred fast. She licked a little of the chocolate paste off her finger and made a face. It was bitter.

  “It does look as if it would taste good, doesn’t it?” Leigh said as she handed Jocie her glass of soda. “You have to wait till the end to lick the bowl. There’s no sugar in the cocoa paste.”

  “So how did you get a job in the courthouse if you’re not a Hollyhill native? Zella says it can’t be done.”

  “My mother was raised here, and my aunt works for the judge. Actually, the judge is my third or fourth cousin once removed or twice removed, whatever. I grew up in Grundy, but I always loved coming to Hollyhill to visit my grandmother. She died last year.” Leigh looked teary.

  “My grandmother died when I was nine.”

  “Yeah, I was lucky to have mine so long, but I still miss her,” Leigh said as she sifted and measured the flour. She added the flour along with the milk. “Now we’ll hav
e to beat it three hundred strokes.”

  Jocie counted as she slapped the spoon through the batter and against the side of the bowl. By the time she got to sixty she was slowing down. Leigh took the bowl and spoon and beat the batter in a steady, easy rhythm as she counted under her breath.

  “It looks easy when you do it,” Jocie said.

  “Lots of practice. Every time we have a church dinner, people go into fits if I don’t bring my chocolate cake.” She held the spoon up and let the batter drip off it back down into the bowl. “Here, you finish the last fifty while I grease and flour the pans.”

  The music had stopped in the living room, and Leigh went in to lift the pile of forty-fives up, flip them over, and start them playing again. She was singing along with Elvis when she came back to the kitchen and started greasing the pans.

  “Dad says he’s too old for you,” Jocie said as she pushed through the last five beats.

  Leigh’s face turned bright pink.

  Jocie looked up. “Uh-oh, I guess I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Well, probably not.” Leigh fanned herself with the end of a dish towel spotted with sunflowers. “But I pink up easy as pie. One of the problems with having a fair complexion.”

  “Me too. Last time I flamed up, I opened my mouth and blew the heat out and off my face.” Jocie opened her mouth wide and demonstrated. “It sort of helped.”

  Leigh stopped fanning and gave it a try. The pink on her cheeks faded. “I think it did help. Where’d you come up with that?”

  “A slant on a Jupiterian idea.”

  “Oh, Wes. Zella’s always fussing about him, but I think he’s kind of fun.” Leigh spooned the cake batter evenly into the two round pans and set them carefully in the oven. “Now we’ll let them bake for about thirty minutes.”

  She closed the oven door, stood up, and looked straight at Jocie. “I guess we might as well talk about it now that you’ve brought it up. My mama always says there’s no shame to getting embarrassed unless you tried to hide from what was embarrassing you. So you think I don’t have a snowball’s chance in you know where with your father.”