Chapter 15 #4
Erin listened intently to Nell, her mind swirling with thoughts and memories.
Her parents believed in a higher power and occasionally mentioned God, which was where she first heard the story of Martha, the servant who was too busy to spend time with Jesus—a tale that had always stuck with her.
However, religion was not a central focus in her family; it served more as a backdrop in their lives.
Phillip, on the other hand, was staunchly atheist and had little patience for discussions about God or faith.
She recalled one of the many terrifying nights during her marriage to Phillip. In a moment of sheer desperation, as Phillip
struck her, she had cried out to God for help. Instead of stopping, Phillip became even more infuriated by her plea, and his
punches landed even harder. That moment left her both physically and emotionally scarred. It also pushed her farther away
from believing in a loving and caring deity who was looking out for her.
But as Erin listened to Nell, something began to change within her. This sweet, soft-spoken woman talked about Jesus as though
he was a very real presence in her life. There was an unmistakable light in Nell’s eyes, and a genuine peace and joy that
Erin found intriguing. Nell described Jesus not as a distant historical figure but as a living companion who guided her every
day.
Erin wondered how it was possible for someone to have such unwavering faith in something unseen. How could Nell talk about
Jesus with such familiarity and love, as if he was a close friend likely to show up poolside at any moment? The way Nell described
her relationship with him made it seem so tangible and accessible. It was the opposite of the cold, distant God Erin had encountered
in her childhood. And the conversation she was having with Nell contrasted sharply with any talk she ever had with Phillip.
Perhaps this faith Nell spoke of could offer Erin some healing and peace in her own broken life. For the first time in a long while, Erin felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe there was something greater out there, something that could heal her troubled soul. Something money couldn’t buy.
Nell had shared her love of the Lord with enough people to know when they were uninterested and she should stop talking, but
with Erin, she could sense that her interest was blossoming into a quiet longing, a desire to explore the same path of faith
that had so profoundly transformed Nell. “You know, Erin, God is the great provider. I can see in hindsight the many ways
he has provided for me.”
Provision was exactly what Erin Pepperell needed.
Celia Kate, Gemma, and Moira were caught up in their own conversation, their laughter and animated gestures reflecting the
decades of memories they shared. While Mo and Gemma refilled their mimosa glasses, they reminisced about their high school
days when life was simpler and their biggest concerns were exams and winning the Friday night football game.
CK, who still lived in their hometown, shifted the conversation to the present, filling in Moira and Gemma on the latest small-town
scandals.
“You won’t believe what’s been happening lately; it’s like a soap opera! Do you remember Mrs. Henderson, the elementary school
secretary? Well, she has been stealing lunch money from the cafeteria cash register for years. Apparently that’s what paid
for Mr. Henderson’s casket a few years back. It’s the talk of the town.”
“There’s no way!” Moira exclaimed while nearly spilling her drink. “Not Mrs. Henderson. She was always so prim and proper, with her starched dresses and her hair neatly pulled back in a bun. She reminded me of my mother.”
CK nodded emphatically. “And listen to this. Kathryn Marcum’s daughter, the one who’s a popular TikTok influencer with all
the makeup tutorials, shoplifted from Talbot’s Pharmacy. The police arrived, and she was busted with three tubes of concealer
and a contouring stick in her bra.”
“That’s wild,” Gemma said before popping a handful of the bland nuts and omegas into her mouth.
“I’m not done. Another kid was in the pharmacy when it happened and recorded the whole thing. He posted it on TikTok, and
now there’s a whole drama unfolding. It’s trending; I think that’s what the kids call it.”
“Gosh, aren’t you glad we didn’t have phones when we were that age?” Moira asked.
Gemma nodded in agreement. “I certainly am. I don’t know what the statute of limitations is on—”
“Oh, and listen to this, Moira,” CK exclaimed, waving her hands wildly. “I already told Gemma about this, but you remember
Todd Chambers, right?”
Gemma added, “He graduated a few years before us. He drove that Camaro he had painted that awful lime green.”
They paused while Mo nodded in acknowledgment.
“Well,” Celia Kate continued, “he was hired as the head football coach at the high school last year. That idiot went to a
party at one of his players’ houses and got arrested for DUI on the way home! I couldn’t go to the salon or the grocery store
for months without hearing about it.”
“That Todd Chambers was always bad news,” Moira said before sipping her third mimosa. She leaned back in her chair and smiled. “That one-horse town always did have a way of keeping things interesting. I almost miss it.”
“I sure don’t,” Gemma said. “I haven’t been back since Mom and Dad left and moved to Alpharetta.”
“I think it would be fun if you both come back for a visit. We can go get ice cream and cruise the strip like the good old
days,” Celia Kate suggested.
“Yeah, and nearly puke at the smell coming from the dog food factory,” Gemma added with a snarl.
“You get used to it.” CK defended her speck on the map. “You know, the only reason I let you get away with slamming Tunnel
Hill is because you lived there for eighteen years, Gemma. I would never let an outsider talk about our town that way. Sean
was born and raised only one county over, and he made the mistake of criticizing Tunnel Hill one time, when he said that his
Catoosa County grew better tomatoes than my Whitfield County.”
While CK argued for the pros of their hometown and Gemma pointed out the cons, Moira began to feel warm and flustered from
both the sun and the champagne. Her stance earlier that morning, while her head pounded and her stomach churned, had been
defensive. But now she realized that her excessive drinking the night before probably had been a mistake. The more she thought
about asking Erin to lie to the others for her about being hungover, the more immature and silly she felt. It was reminiscent
of a high school student attempting to avoid getting into trouble with her parents.
She didn’t want a repeat of the previous night, so to cool off and sober up, Moira stood from her lounger and slowly waded into the shallow end of the pool until she was immersed to her waist. The chilly water provided the relief she desperately needed.
Moira expected her friends to join her in the water, but they didn’t. Instead, the four of them continued talking and laughing
with one another on the pool deck as the bright sun shone down on them. Moira struggled to catch the details of their conversation
over the sound of water splashing off the rock feature into the aquamarine pool. She could tell it must have been a good story
since Gemma’s face glowed with excitement as she animatedly spoke, her hands moving energetically to emphasize her points.
CK shook her head and smiled while Nell and Erin reclined in their lounge chairs, clearly captivated by the tale.
Moira watched as her friends enjoyed one another’s company, trying to shake off the feeling of being left out. She waded along
the sun shelf, then sat on the warm slate stone that edged the pool, dipping her pedicured toes back into the cool water.
She focused on the turquoise ripples, watching them expand outward with each gentle kick of her feet, and tried to ignore
the cloudiness of impairment and the loneliness that surrounded her.
Moira didn’t need anyone, especially Nell Rehman, to tell her how ironic it was that she drank to escape the pain of losing
her husband, even though drinking only made her feel more depressed and alone. This weekend, in part, was meant to motivate
her to socialize, but at that moment, all she wanted to do was revert to her routine of curling up on her living room couch
with Dove and Pearl and a few more drinks until she became unaware of her heartache.
That heartache began on a cool spring day two and a half years earlier, when Moira struggled to understand what Jeffrey’s frantic secretary was saying when she called to inform her that Jeffrey had been found slumped over his desk at Allyson Supply.
Dead? Not her tall, thin Jeffrey, with his dark eyes and rugged good looks.
It was true that Jeffrey didn’t exercise much, and he occasionally enjoyed a cigar and a glass of brandy. Among his closest
friends, there was even a joke that he preferred red meat for dessert. Jeffrey’s father had died of a heart condition at the
age of sixty-three, and his grandfather had passed away at sixty-five. The family business seemed to be handed down quicker
with each generation, creating a tragic cycle: a father, a heart attack, and then the legacy passed on to the son. Because
of this, Moira encouraged her two sons, who were in their late teens and early twenties, to start taking baby aspirin, eat
healthily, and exercise regularly. Despite the family history, Jeffrey’s death came as a shock to Moira.
It still felt unfathomable as she took another drink and considered sinking to the bottom of the deep end of the pool.