The Sawmill Book Club

Chapter Six

“O

pal, did you remember your list?” Minilee asked when they were crossing the bridge over the Red River into Oklahoma.

Opal patted the pocket of her chambray shirt. “Got it right here. Without it, I’d get home with half of what I needed and too much of stuff that’s not good for me.”

“Well, rats!” Libby slapped the steering wheel as she caught what Minilee had said.

“Where’s a rat?” Minilee squealed.

Opal reached up from the back seat and patted her on the shoulder. “She’s just Sunday school cussin’. What she meant to say was ‘Dammit.’ I imagine she forgot her list.”

“I did,” Libby admitted. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Minilee shivered. “I’m terrified of mice. They’re only slightly smaller than Bigfoot in my mind.”

“And I’m just as afraid of a spider, so when I see one, Minilee kills it for me,” Opal added.

“It don’t matter if it’s two o’clock in the morning,” Minilee said with a nod. “If I see a mouse, she comes runnin’, and I do the same if she finds a spider. What makes you scream for help, Libby?”

“Snakes,” she answered, not willing to tell them that she checked the locks on doors and windows at least three times every night before she went to bed because of the scary movie she watched when she was a kid. Or that she slept with a night-light on, pepper spray on the stand beside her bed, and a Taser under the mattress. Staying behind while Victoria was away had set patterns she didn’t think she’d ever shake.

“I don’t like them, either, but I’ll face off with a rattler before I will a mouse,” Minilee declared. “Just thinking about those evil critters makes me cringe. But if one gets into your apartment, honey, you just call us or else run across the road. I’ll grab the hoe, and we’ll send him off to wherever those devils go in the afterlife.”

Opal giggled in the back seat. “I was sixteen years old before I learned that you could kill a snake with a .22 pistol. Mama always chopped their heads off with a hoe before Daddy got her a little gun for protection when he had to be gone. He went to work for the railroad, and sometimes he didn’t come home for a week at a time. You’re going to want to take the next exit onto West Jackson Street and just follow it all through town.”

Libby shook the visions of any kind of creeping critters from her head and slowed down to shift lanes and make the exit. After a couple of traffic lights, she noticed an ice-cream store on her left and made a mental note to stop there after they’d gotten their shopping done.

“Just ahead on your left,” Minilee told her.

Libby turned into the lot, drove up to one of the entry doors, let Opal and Minilee get out, and then found a parking spot. She took a notepad from her purse, closed her eyes, and tried to remember everything on the list she’d left at home. She blinked a couple of times and then wrote down as much as she could remember. That would be a starting place, and hopefully, she wouldn’t buy too many snacks and not enough real food like Opal had talked about. When she’d finished her list, she got out of her SUV, grabbed a cart that had been left beside her vehicle, and pushed it inside the store.

Minilee and Opal were nowhere to be seen, so she started toward the beauty aisle for shampoo and conditioner. She heard their voices before she even turned the corner and saw both of them talking to a young woman—likely someone they knew, based on their smiles.

“Oh, here’s Libby now.” Opal motioned her over.

She tossed one bottle of shampoo and one of conditioner into her cart as she pushed it down the aisle toward them.

“This is Tatum, my great-niece who just left the service on an early out. Tatum, this is Libby,” Opal said. “She started working for Benny this past week.”

Libby extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you. Thank you for your service.”

Tatum had a firm but brief handshake. “Likewise. Are you a veteran?”

“No, but once upon a time, joining the air force crossed my mind,” Libby said.

Tatum eyed her from the toes of her sandals to her ponytail and then shrugged. “You are too old to join now,” she said, then turned back to Opal and Minilee. “Like I was saying, I talked to Bennington this morning. He was on his way to one of those god-awful antique things, but he’ll be back on Thursday. We’re going out to dinner that evening.”

Libby frowned at Tatum’s comment about god-awful antique things. She might have had the same opinion, but she never used words with that kind of venom.

Maybe he’ll hire you to manage the store after six months, Libby’s grandmother whispered in her ear.

Opal’s smile deepened all the wrinkles in her face. “That’s wonderful. Where are y’all going?”

Tatum pushed a strand of her chin-length blonde hair back behind her ear. “Some place in Paris—Texas, this time ... Hopefully, before long, we can honeymoon in the real Paris. But don’t tell Bennington that I said that,” she said with a smile. “A girl doesn’t give away all her secrets on the first date.”

She does not have her eye on the man but on his bank account. Libby could have sworn Victoria had been reincarnated as a six-inch person with tiny little wings who had flown across time to sit on her shoulder.

“Why do you call him Bennington?” Libby asked, shaking off the thought.

Tatum turned her head toward Libby and frowned. “Because Benny sounds like someone who fixes a car.”

Minilee narrowed her eyes. “Benny fits him just fine. That was downright rude.”

“Well, pardon me,” Tatum said, turning back with a head wiggle as Opal elbowed Minilee. “It’s good to see you, Aunt Opal, and you, Miz Minilee.” She nodded toward Libby. “I’m sure I’ll be visiting y’all more in the next few months.”

“My door is always open, and if you give me a couple of hours’ notice, I’ll have dinner on the table or maybe even your favorite chocolate pie made.” Opal threw up a hand and waved as her great-niece disappeared around the end of the aisle.

“Minilee!”

The high-pitched voice right behind Libby startled her so badly that her body tensed. She whipped around to see a tall, thin woman with her arms open wide for a hug. Minilee crossed the short distance between them and hugged the lady.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you until this evening. What are y’all doin’ in Hugo?” the woman asked.

Minilee took a step back. “We’re doing some shopping. Let me introduce you to Libby. She’s our new neighbor, and she drove us up here. Libby, this is my sister Ilene Dalley. She’s one of our book club members, and she’ll be there tonight.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Libby said. “Let’s meet back at the car when we’re all done. I’m the third vehicle in aisle D.”

“Sure thing.” Minilee waved her away with a flick of her hand.

Luck was not with Libby. She backed her cart out and headed toward the greeting card aisle with the intention of picking out a couple of cute “thinking of you” cards to send to Amanda and Dolly. She had just picked up a funny one when Tatum T-boned her cart with so much force that Libby dropped the card.

“What the ...” Libby started. She picked the card up and put it back on the shelf.

“Sorry about that,” Tatum said with a saccharine smile to the person she was talking to on the phone. “I didn’t see you.”

Liar, Libby thought. There was no way the woman hadn’t seen her.

“No problem,” Libby said. “Shall we call the police and exchange insurance information?”

“That’s a stupid thing to say,” Tatum snapped and went back to talking on her cell phone. “That woman that works for you just stopped dead in front of me in the middle of the aisle and caused me to ram into her cart. I hope she pays more attention to the expensive things in your store than she does when she’s shopping. Now, what were you saying about your favorite vacation spot?”

Libby glanced down at her cart, which was so far to the side that a bulldozer could have gone around her, and then gave Tatum a dirty look. The woman raised a shoulder in half a shrug and went on with her conversation.

Not worth it. Libby headed on toward the back of the store to get milk, butter, and cottage cheese. Benny could have the curvy blonde with the big brown eyes if he wanted her—that was his business—but Libby hoped the woman stayed away from the antique store. If you looked up bitch or jerk in the dictionary, Tatum’s picture would be right there. Libby hesitated at the candy aisle but forced herself to go on when she saw that Tatum had stopped midway down it. She hadn’t gone but a few yards farther when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hello, again,” Tatum said from right behind her. “I was hoping I’d cross paths with you a third time.”

“Why’s that?” Libby asked, her bullshit meter suddenly registering off the charts.

“I could use some advice concerning Bennington,” she said in a silky-smooth voice.

“Not sure I could be much help there,” Libby told her.

“You’ve been around him more than I have lately, so I believe you can. He and I were young kids together in Sawmill, but I haven’t seen him in years,” Tatum said.

Victoria was back. You are being played.

Maybe the player becomes the one who is played in this case, Libby thought.

Libby shook her head. “I’ve only known Benny a few days.”

“What can you tell me about him? Aunt Opal sings his praises all the way to the moon. I want to know what an outsider thinks before I get involved and possibly waste my time.”

The word outsider blazed through Libby like a double shot of cheap whiskey. She didn’t expect to build a work family, but she was shopping with Opal and Minilee. Didn’t that give her a little bit of an edge on friendship?

And having ice cream with them later, she reminded herself.

“I’m sorry, but like I just told you, I’ve only known Benny for a little while. He left this morning on a buying trip, so I can’t give you any kind of opinion other than he’s a hard worker,” Libby said. “So, you guys aren’t together?”

“No, but it’s just a matter of time. We’re going on our first date in a few days, and from there ...” Tatum sighed. “But, dearie!” She dragged the word out like it tasted bad on her tongue or she wanted Libby to feel like she was sixty years old. “I don’t care about his work ethic. Tell me something personal about him.”

“Don’t know anything personal about him except that he likes fresh tomatoes and fried okra ... honey.” How dare this woman treat her like something she had walked through out in the pasture?

“Would you tell me more if you could?” Tatum asked.

“Probably not,” Libby answered. “You need to take care of that yourself, especially since y’all were so close as children. You have a good day, now.” She left the woman standing there glaring at her and pushed her cart on toward the back of the store. Poor Benny! Even though she didn’t know him all that well, she dang sure felt sorry for any guy who got caught up in Tatum’s web.

Libby awoke from one of her recurring nightmares with a start when she heard the hinges of a door squeak. Sweat streamed down her face and got into her eyes, and she blinked several times. She wiped the moisture away with the back of her hand and glanced over at her phone lying on the nightstand.

Good Lord! The book club meeting was due to start in ten minutes. She sat up so fast the room took a couple of spins before it settled down enough that she could stand up. She quickly washed her face, ran a brush through her hair, and grabbed the dessert she had made from the refrigerator. Nothing fancy or that had to be cooked—just a cheesecake mixture in a graham cracker crust, topped off with a can of cherry pie filling.

The aroma of something spicy wafted across the room when she opened the door into the front area. Evidently, there had been lots of paper goods left over from the club’s Easter meeting—or from a recent baby shower—because the table was set with pink paper plates, blue disposable cups, and yellow napkins. And they all matched the wildflowers in the quart jar in the middle of the table.

“That pie sure looks good,” Minilee said. “I haven’t made one of those in years, and it’ll be good after the chicken casserole I whipped up for this evening.”

“Something light and sweet to go with our coffee while we discuss the latest book,” Opal said with a nod. “I just got a text from Sally. She’s picking up Ilene, and they’ll be here in about five minutes.”

“Which is a surprise.” Minilee pulled a coffeepot out from under the counter, filled the reservoir with water, and scooped coffee grounds into the basket. She hit the button to start it dripping and then walked away. “Ilene is always late to everything. She’s been slower than molasses in the winter since we were little girls.”

“That’s why Sally picks her up on club night,” Opal explained. “It kind of works out because Sally would show up in the middle of the afternoon if she didn’t have to bring Ilene with her. She’s one of those people that think you go to hell in a handbasket if you are two minutes late to anything and an hour early is a good thing.”

“So, two very different ladies?” Libby asked.

Minilee folded paper napkins and laid one on each of the plates. “Yep, just like me and Opal.”

Libby didn’t say a word, but she couldn’t help but think that the two were like twins. She looked around at the big room, then noticed the six-foot table had only five place settings. “Why don’t y’all have your club in one of your houses since there’s only a few of you?”

Opal set a pitcher of lemonade and one of tea on the table. “Used to be, there was ten of us—sometimes even more—and we needed the space. Now it’s just the four of us most of the time.”

“Did you ever think about inviting others, maybe from your church or old friends?” Libby asked.

“We thought about lots of things,” Opal answered, “but we’re so comfortable with the little group we have that ...” She shrugged.

“We even considered asking the author of whatever book we were reading to join us on Zoom but decided against it,” Minilee said.

“Why?”

Minilee giggled. “After a lengthy discussion, we decided that our favorite authors might disappoint us. We want to keep them on pedestals.”

“What happened to all the rest of the members?” Libby asked.

“A couple passed away, and two or three went into assisted living, and it dwindled down to just four of us. Dorothy comes about once a year, but she’s got her daughter back living with her now, and by the end of the day, she’s plumb worn out from taking care of her great-grandbaby.”

“And”—Minilee filled five blue cups with crushed ice and set them around at each place setting—“Cora Mitchell still makes it a few times a year, but her husband has dementia, so she has to get someone to stay with him in order to get away. But we call her and Dorothy after the club meeting and tell them all about it.”

“Where do they live?”

“Both of them live in Paris,” Opal answered. “I hear car doors slamming. Ilene and Sally drive down from Grant, Oklahoma. We kind of bypassed that area this morning on our way to Hugo.”

“Yoo-hoo, we are here,” a thin voice called out as the front door opened.

“They can see that, Sally,” a huskier voice that sounded like it belonged to a lifetime smoker said right behind her.

Libby had thought that Ilene reminded her of someone when she met her in Walmart. Now it became clear that she was a ringer for Blanche from The Golden Girls, and Sally looked like she could be Marie’s sister from Everybody Loves Raymond. Then they stepped into better light, and she could see the differences ... but it was still more than a little uncanny.

“Libby, this is my sister, Sally.” Opal pointed to the lady who could have been Marie’s long-lost cousin and then swept her finger over to the taller woman. “And you met Ilene this morning at the Walmart store.”

“And this is Libby,” Minilee butted in, “the woman we told y’all about who’s working for Benny out in the shop.”

“Welcome to Sawmill and to the club,” Sally said.

“Ditto. Nice to see you again,” Ilene added with a nod. “We’re glad to have a new member. Can we please eat now? I’m starving. I knew there would be chicken casserole tonight, so I just ate a bowl of cereal for lunch.”

“You are always hungry,” Sally fussed. “She ate a Moon Pie and a bag of chips on the way up here.”

“Those little individual bags of chips are mostly air with just five chips inside, and the Moon Pie was a mini, not a full-size. That was just my appetizer,” Ilene argued.

The bickering reminded Libby of what had gone on just before her grandmother and her gambling buddies left the house. When she was a little girl—younger than ten, anyway—she thought they were angry with each other and was glad to see them go play the slots or blackjack. Mary Lou Ritter would babysit her on nights when it was too cold for Libby to stay in the car alone, and she always played games with Libby or colored with her, and sometimes she even had a craft project all planned out for the two of them.

For some reason, Victoria never left Libby in the car after dark or when it was bitter cold. She always said that was asking for trouble, and Libby understood the reason now. Her grandmother at least cared enough about her that she didn’t want her to be abducted. But in the summertime, it stayed light until nine o’clock, so Victoria would go earlier and leave at dusk. Then Mary Lou had graduated from high school when Libby was ten years old, and Victoria decided that since Libby was taller than Mary Lou had been at eighteen, she could stay in the house by herself.

Opal jerked her out of the past and back into the present when she asked, “Libby, are you all right? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“Sorry, I was just lost in la-la land,” Libby said with a quick smile.

Minilee pointed to the chair at the head of the table. “We all do that from time to time, but now we need to sit down so Ilene can say grace. The rule is, whoever brings the food does not say the prayer.”

Libby eased down into her designated chair. Opal and Minilee were to her right, and the other two were across the table. They all bowed their heads, but Libby opened one eye to study the four ladies while Ilene thanked the heavenly Father for what seemed like everything but the kitchen sink. She caught Opal’s eye, and the elderly lady smiled and slid a sly wink her way.

“Amen!” Ilene said in a loud voice, then stood up. “Lizzy, pass me your plate, and I’ll do the honors. This casserole is too hot to pass around.”

“That is Libby, not Lizzy,” Opal corrected her.

“Sorry about that,” Ilene said.

Libby handed her plate to her. “No problem. I get that all the time. You’d think that my grandmother would have nicknamed me Lizzy instead of Libby since my birth certificate name is Elizabeth.”

Ilene put two big scoops of food on Libby’s plate and handed it back to her.

“My birth certificate name is Virginia Lee,” Minilee said.

“How did they get Minilee out of that?” Libby asked.

“When I was first born, my daddy said I was a little mini of my mama. Her name was Lee Anna. Everyone started calling me Minilee. I didn’t even know that wasn’t my name until I went to school and Mama had to produce my birth certificate,” Minilee answered. “So it’s always been Minilee, except on legal papers.”

“Speaking of names, I heard that Tatum has a date with Benny,” Sally said. “Now, wouldn’t it be something if they got serious?”

Amanda’s voice popped into Libby’s head. Let the gossip begin.

“That’s right.” Opal beamed. “I’d like to see the first date turn into something serious. Tatum has always been a go-getter, and she’d be good for Benny.”

From Libby’s first impression, Tatum was more than a little overbearing. She didn’t like antiques—or tiny communities—so Benny would have to change drastically in order to live with her.

Or else be miserable. Amanda’s voice was right on the money.

She tuned back in to the conversation when Minilee passed the basket of hot rolls to her. Now the four ladies were talking about the weather. Evidently, the weatherman had called for severe thunderstorms over the next two days.

“It’ll be a great day to spend dusting and straightening up the shop,” Opal said. “We’ll take the leftovers up there tonight after the club meeting in case it rains tomorrow morning. That way, we won’t have to get out in the weather until the end of the day.”

“That’s my sister.” Sally’s tone had an edge to it. “Always thinking ahead.”

Opal shot a cold look across the table. “Someone had to organize things. Mama was scatterbrained, and I was the oldest kid, so the lot fell to me.”

For the first time, Libby wondered if the reason that Victoria had been such a poor housekeeper was because she was scatterbrained. Maybe she’d had her mind set so solidly on having fun that she didn’t think about important things, like keeping a neat house or making food for her granddaughter. Libby might have gotten a heart-condition gene from her father, but she had not gotten the messy gene from Victoria. That was a blessing.

She realized that the ladies had all stopped talking and every eye was on her. The silence was deafening, and Libby felt like she did back in elementary school when she had to stand in front of the class and give a book report. “This is a wonderful meal—almost as good as the dinner I had with Opal and Minilee the other day. These sweet potatoes remind me of the ones that we had when I went to Thanksgiving dinner with my friend, Amanda, and her family last year.”

“I always make the turkey at Thanksgiving,” Opal said, “and we make up take-out meals to deliver to the shut-ins.”

“She makes the best, moistest turkey,” Sally agreed. “She won’t tell us her secret, but that’s okay. If we knew it, we’d cook turkeys all year and Thanksgiving wouldn’t be as special.”

“The four of us cook all day. I make the cranberry salad, and Minilee does the hot rolls. Ilene makes the pumpkin pies and sweet potatoes,” Opal said.

Ilene glanced over at Libby. “I’d be glad to turn over the pies to you if you are still here.”

There’s that if word again, she thought. “Be glad to do that,” she agreed. “My six-month contract isn’t up until after then. And I make a mean pumpkin pie.”

“You’ll need to make about six,” Ilene said. “It helps if you make them in a sheet pan and cut them in squares instead of in pie pans. They fit in the take-out containers better that way.”

“Maybe I’ll make a pecan pie just for the five of us,” Libby offered.

“Absolutely!” Opal said without hesitation. “I never can get them to set up. The inside is always weepy, and that makes the crust soggy. And talking about food, it’s time for us to think about the next book club meal. Ilene, it’s your turn to bring the supper.”

“Fried chicken it is,” Ilene said with a grin.

“From that place in Hugo?” Opal asked.

“Yep, and I’ll bring all the trimmings, too,” Ilene answered. “For your information, Libby, I love to eat and hate to cook. When it’s my turn to bring supper, we have store-bought fried chicken or barbecue ribs.”

“Nobody complains, as long as she’s on time,” Minilee quipped.

“What’s your favorite food, Libby?” Opal asked.

“That would be like choosing a favorite child in a family of twelve kids,” Libby said with half a chuckle.

“Okay, then what did you like best when you were a little girl?” Ilene asked.

They are trying to get to know you. This time she was sure the voice came from her grandmother.

Libby answered honestly. “Fish sticks were a big treat. Victoria had a cigarette and coffee for breakfast, and I had cold cereal. Lunch was a bologna sandwich at the shop. Supper was usually canned soup. Sometimes on Sundays we went out to a burger joint for lunch.”

“After church?” Sally asked.

“We didn’t go to church. I didn’t attend until I was in college, but if my grandmother won at the poker tables on Saturday night, we celebrated with a burger and fries. On the days she didn’t win, I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Libby said. “As you can see, not eating my vegetables didn’t stunt my growth one bit.”

“Mine either,” Ilene said with a serious nod. “Green beans, broccoli, and brussels sprouts should be thrown out in the backyard for the raccoons and possums to eat.”

“Of course, I acquired a taste for all that in the college cafeteria,” Libby said. “The other students fussed about the food, but I thought I’d plumb died and gone to heaven. Instead of the freshman fifteen, I gained twenty pounds that first year.”

“Well, after that dessert I see in the cooler, I expect I’ll be up another three to five pounds in the morning,” Sally declared as she pushed back her chair and headed across the room. “I’ll get it out, and we can have it with our coffee as we discuss the book. All y’all take your positions at the other end of the table while I serve it up.”

Minilee stood, gathered up the dirty plates, and put them in the trash can behind the counter. “Libby, why don’t you sit beside Opal since I’m the club moderator tonight. Our book deals with facing our fears. It’s women’s fiction—the story of a young woman who was date-raped twenty years before. It’s set down in South Texas, and it had a terrible effect on her life until her friend helped her get control of things.”

Libby drew a quick intake of breath and covered it with a cough. She had never been raped, but she sure had a lot of fears she could confront. Still, from what she had read and learned from the internet, getting over her own personal nightmares would require talking about them. She wasn’t ready to do that—not yet, and quite possibly, not ever.

Libby moved to the other end of the table to sit beside Opal. Sally cut the pie into five pieces and served it on disposable lavender plates. While she did that, Minilee brought the coffeepot and five mugs to the table on a tray.

“The table looks pretty tonight, and I love the jar of wildflowers,” Sally said.

“I hope they don’t have chiggers crawling out of them and down my bra,” Ilene practically groaned. “I hate those bugs. When I was pregnant with my last child, me and my husband went out in his uncle’s pasture to pick blackberries.” She glanced over at Libby. “Back then, we wore maternity smocks to hide our big bellies. We didn’t flaunt them by wearing skintight things like girls do today. Anyway, I got tired and sat down on the ground. The next day, I had a circle of red marks all the way around my waist where those things had burrowed into my skin.”

“Maybe that’s the reason why girls today wear something tight,” Opal said. “You just provided a nice shady tent for the chiggers to crawl up under.”

“Enough about anything that resembles a bug,” Sally said. “Just so you know, Libby, no matter who brings dessert, it’s my job to serve it. I would very much like for you to make a pecan pie for me to serve at the next club meeting. I don’t want to wait until Thanksgiving to test your skill at making one.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will be glad to do that,” Libby agreed and wondered if Tatum could boil water without the smoke alarm going off.

“Maybe you can just be in charge of desserts each time, and we’ll take care of the main dish and sides,” Opal suggested.

“But I make a really good bologna sandwich,” Libby teased. “I even use cheese, mustard or mayo—your choice—and lettuce and tomatoes. Pickles are optional.”

“Maybe you can fix up those for lunch at the shop one day next week.” Minilee took out a notebook from her huge black purse and sat down at the head of the table. “Okay, ladies, the meeting is in order. Who finished the book all the way to the end?”

Everyone raised their hand except Libby.

“This here is the book we read.” Minilee held up a book with a colorful cover. “It will be on the bookshelf if you want to read it, Libby. Who would recommend it to her?”

Four hands went up.

“The author had me at the first line,” Ilene said. “When she said, ‘Something was stolen from me, and I thought I would never get it back ...’ From that point on, I was engrossed. The poor girl lost her dignity, her trust in people—basically, she was afraid of everything.”

Minilee shook her head as if to commiserate. “I was up until midnight finishing the book because I couldn’t put it down.”

“So was I,” Opal said. “I never did believe in all that stuff about not being able to put a book down until I started this one. I cried with the heroine in the story and hoped that she learned to face her fears. Before the end she realized that love is a precious thing.”

“Whatever our fears are,” said Sally, “we should face them so that they don’t hang around and ruin our lives. So, Miz Libby, if you have any fears about anything, I recommend that you read this book. It will help you put things in perspective, for sure.”

“I would definitely recommend it to you. It was pure therapy for me,” Sally said and then took a bite of her dessert. “This is delicious. I need your recipe. Maybe you could write it down for me before the next club meeting?”

“Sure thing,” Libby agreed, and planned to start reading the book that very evening.

“Opal and I already decided that we would put a five-star review on the internet for this one. Libby, we go around the table and answer one book club question at a time. The first one is, Did you feel sorry for the main character, Deidre? Why or why not?”

Ilene swallowed the bite in her mouth and then nodded. “Yes, but I can’t imagine any woman letting her mother control her life like Deidre did. She should have stood up to the woman years ago.”

Libby thought of the control her experiences had on her own life. Being left alone several nights a week at ten years old had made its mark on her. Even though she wouldn’t call what her grandmother had done a control issue, it had affected her all the same.

Sally took a sip of her coffee. “I agree. No one—not even Opal, who always bossed me around—could control me like that, so it was hard to sympathize with her. But then, she had a different background than I did, so who am I to judge her?”

Opal pursed her lips. “I didn’t feel sorry for her, but I understood her. I’m terrified of spiders, but even at my age, I’m not so sure I can face my fears. I’ll go to my grave praying that there are no such evil critters in heaven.”

“Me too, when it comes to mice,” Minilee said.

Libby looked across the table at Ilene and Sally. “What are you afraid of?”

“That my pistol won’t fire or that I’ll miss the shot if someone tries to hurt me or my family,” Ilene answered. “I have nightmares about that. I’ve got my gun in my hand, and some evil person has broken into my house, and the danged Smith & Wesson won’t shoot.”

Libby could sure relate to that fear. She’d never thought of using a gun, just always tried to outrun whatever was chasing her in her dreams.

“For years it was that someone would catch me cultivating a few little plants of marijuana in the cellar,” Sally said with a giggle. “But I faced my fear. I grew it for medicinal purposes and only for my personal use.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And just between us five people, I grew some of the best kush in the state.”

Opal chuckled. “She said it was so she could lose weight, but she would smoke some of it and then devour half a bag of chips and two candy bars. She wanted me to try it for my arthritis, but I just couldn’t do it.”

“But she could take a little nip of peach moonshine for her aches and pains,” Sally said and shook her finger at her sister. “When I was smoking, my reality was that I wore a size six and was movie-star beautiful. I stopped using it a few years ago because I got tired of Opal fussing at me.”

“Apple pie moonshine was my favorite, but I also made peach and blackberry in those days.” Opal giggled. “But I figured out pretty quick that it was eating holes in my stomach, so I quit drinking it. Now, back to the book. We might be too old to face our fears, but the good Lord has promised that we won’t have any sorrows or fears when we get to heaven.”

Face your fears.

The three words kept playing over and over in Libby’s mind as if they were on a constant loop. How could she have a standoff with what scared and scarred her when it was mostly emotional and not physical?

She thought about Ilene quoting that first line of the book. Libby felt like her entire childhood—maybe even her life and soul—had been stolen from her. She wondered if she would ever get it back.