the Improper Life Of Bezellia Grove (2010) by Gilmore Susan Gregg

Author:Gilmore, Susan Gregg [Gregg, Gilmore, Susan]
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2011-01-14T19:17:06.140000+00:00

chapter nine

Life goes on, so they say. And for everybody else in town, I guess it did. But after my father died, everything around me seemed to change. Maizelle changed for sure. Although she'd never say it, I think she felt like the Lord had let her down the day of the tragic event, the formal name that soon became synonymous with my father's death. Now she was always scared, scared that she'd trip down the stairs and break her own neck, or that Adelaide would suffocate under her bedcovers, or that I'd choke on a piece of chicken. Maizelle said bad things always come in threes, and we were just one-third of the way there. Nathaniel told her she was acting childish, but that didn't stop her from fretting over everybody and everything. She said little prayers all day long, hopeful the Lord was listening better this time.

Nathaniel changed too. He wasn't scared or anything. He was just quiet. He never talked to Mother's impatiens anymore or whistled old hymns while sweeping the front porch. He never sat on the back steps at the end of the day, sipping a cold glass of lemonade and teasing Maizelle as she finished cooking our dinner. He talked to me some, mostly to see how I was doing. But he talked to the horses more. I think he was convinced that they better understood his loneliness. As the days passed, Nathaniel acted more and more like his old self, but there was a sadness covering his eyes that never seemed to go away.

Mother, well, she changed the most. She missed her precious Charles terribly. And just like Uncle Thad had warned might happen, she talked about my dead father as if he had been the most loyal and devoted husband in all of Nashville, a saint really, the patron saint of marital bliss. And now, with him gone, she cried a river of tears and wore black for weeks. And after going to the funeral, she just kept going, to church that is. Before long, she had traded her bottle of gin for a Bible and was attending church more often than she had bridge parties at the country club. She was now stoic and sober and overflowing with the Holy Spirit.

Nathaniel said we had God almighty to thank for this miraculous transformation, but I was not so sure. I had, quite truthfully, spent many tearful nights praying for a new mother, but the one that had been delivered was not exactly what I had hoped for. This one walked around the house quoting Scripture and praising Jesus and seemed to actually care about other people more than herself. I even heard her tell Maizelle that she finally understood what it must be like to be colored, to be a slave to the evil in the world. Maizelle just rolled her eyes. I think she might have even spit in Mother's coffee just for good measure.

Mother confessed that, after her dear Charles

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