Joan Hess - Maggody And The Moonbeams

Jim Bob's eyes welled with tears as the thanked the Almighty for providing heaven on earth. His wife and Brother Verber might see it differently, but they were fifty miles away in some forsaken camp. He had wine, women, and song, along with food and booze and not a chance anybody'd ever find out. Sonya and Tonya, surely sent from above. He certainly intended to be touched by an angel, and in more ways than one.

Tonya, who seemed a bit more forward, took his hand. "I hope you got something to eat, Mr. Mayor. My stomach's rumbling and grumbling like the New Madrid fault. I sure could do with a bit of supper before the earth starts shakin' under our feet."

"Oh, yeah," Jim Bob said, drawing her toward the door. "My wife left all kinds of casseroles. You want some lasagna or maybe meatloaf? All we have to do is heat it up."

"And then heat you up? You're already approaching medium-high. Don't go boiling just yet, honey."

Sonya caught up with them and tweaked his butt. "But we'll save you for dessert, Mr. Mayor. I just adore a man with a title."

Jim Bob was grinning so hard his cheeks ached as he led them into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "That's funny," he said. "I could have sworn the lasagna was right here on the top shelf. Meatloaf sound okay?"

Sonya and Tonya nodded, then went off to explore the house while he put the pan into the oven, took out plates and cutlery, and hunted through drawers for napkins. It was gonna be worth it, he thought as he listened to them shriek with hilarity over the newly upholstered sofa and fringed fuchsia and lavender throw pillows, all of which had set him back a pretty penny only a month ago. It hadn't seemed all that hilarious to him. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying as they went upstairs, but they seemed to find the flocked wallpaper equally hilarious.

It got real quiet for a spell, but he was way too caught up in his fantasies to think much about it. He was setting the meatloaf on the stove when they reappeared.

"Oh, Mr. Mayor," said Tonya, or maybe Sonya, "the most terriblest thing has happened. While we were freshening up in your bathroom, we had a call on my cellphone. Our poor granny fell and broke her hip. Mama wants us to meet her at the hospital."

"You're leaving?" squeaked Jim Bob.

Sonya, or maybe Tonya, licked his earlobe. "You know we wouldn't if we didn't have to, but our mama hasn't been herself since she lost her leg in a car wreck, and our papa's so fat that he hasn't left his bedroom in seventeen years. Our brother Ivan is doing time for rape, and sweet little Smirnoff keeps insisting he's a frog, so he lives down at the pond. We got no choice but to help our mama. It's a family thing, you know."

"A frog?" said Jim Bob.

"He's making progress in therapy," said Tonya, or maybe Sonya. "Last year he thought he was a polliwog. Do you mind if we make ourselves sandwiches?"

They sounded so matter-of-fact that Jim Bob couldn't gauge their sincerity. "If he believed he was a polliwog… what did he do?"

Sonya, or maybe Tonya, put out a loaf of bread and a bottle of catsup. "Lived in the bathtub most of the time. Ever' now and then he'd let us drain off the water and then refill it. You would not believe the shit we had to put up with from social workers and truancy officers. They'd come pounding on the door night and day. Whenever we saw them driving up, we'd put on Tina Turner tapes and play 'em at full volume. You like Tina, Mr. Mayor?"

Mr. Mayor was having a helluva hard time thinking of anything to say. Here he'd been imagining a night of lust and abandonment, and now he was being forced to entertain the most unsavory images. "Tina, yeah, I like her," he managed to say, having no idea who she was.

"Tell you what, then. We gotta go to the hospital, but we'll come back here tonight if we can. If not, maybe we can come tomorrow night-presuming your wife will still be gone. A threesome is okay, but we don't much care for a foursome unless we're playing bridge. Then again, there's nothing I'd rather do than make a grand slam. That takes all thirteen tricks, and we just happen to know them all."

"I was thinking," Dahlia said as she flopped over in bed, "that we ought not have a swimming pool just yet."

Kevin was mystified. "In the backyard?"

"No, silly, behind our mansion. Kevvie Junior and Rose Marie will be toddling afore too long. We could, I suppose, hire a lifeguard, but even then I wouldn't be comfortable knowing there was a swimming pool where our cherished darlings might be in danger. No pool."

"We ain't got a mansion."

"But we will soon, and we have to think about these things."

Kevin resisted the impulse to pull the covers over his head and pray that the lack of air might cause him to pass out. "We do not have a mansion, my petunia of passion. If we was to buy a plastic wading pool at Wal-Mart, I can't see that we need a lifeguard. You can keep an eye on them."

"I am talking about Hollywood," Dahlia said testily. "When we get there, we might ought to find a mansion without a pool. Most of them have 'em, but we should at least insist there's a fence. Kevvie Junior and Rose Marie can take swimming lessons, but this new one's gonna be too little."

"We do not have a mansion," repeated Kevin, speaking slowly and very, very carefully. "We don't even have a backyard, except for that patch of crabgrass by the vegetable garden. This ad you saw doesn't promise that our little darlings will earn enough so's we can have a mansion in Hollywood."

"So you don't think Kevvie Junior and Rose Marie will have modeling careers?"

Kevin wished he was waxing floors at the supermarket, but, sadly enough, he wasn't. "Of course I do," he murmured meekly. "It's just that, well, it may take some time. I don't think we ought to be packing our bags just yet."

"What do you think?"

Thinking was not one of his skills. He made an attempt to distract her, but she slapped him off and rolled away. He listened to her grumbles as she sank into her pillow, clueless as to what to say or do to win her heart once again. Maybe she was right, he thought. The twins were the cutest li'l things he'd ever laid eyes on, but he had doubts they'd all be loading up the car and heading for Beverly Hills and a mansion with or without a swimming pool.

But that didn't mean his pa would cotton to ridin' in a limo, 'specially if the chauffeur was a pansy. His pa hated pansies.

The homecoming parade, or so it seemed, marched into the cabin at some insanely early hour when not even the birds were stirring. The girls were trying to be quiet, but the snickers, giggles, and whispers composed a full woodwind section.

Estelle shook my shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I was doing just fine," I said as I sat up. "What time is it?"

"Seven-fifteen. Ruby Bee's fixing breakfast, and Mrs. Jim Bob wasn't feeling charitable enough to escort the girls down here. We fretted about you most of the night. Larry Joe clammed up, but it was obvious he was worried sick. He seemed to think you'd come back to the lodge, but then you didn't and Ruby Bee was pacing and peering out the window till dawn. Darla Jean took to moaning about her ankle, so I spent the night keeping it packed with ice and holding her hand. Poor little thing finally fell asleep three hours ago."

"Which is about when I got back here." I rubbed my eyes. "Nothing happened after I left, then?"

"I ain't the person to answer that, am I, missy? I didn't steal a station wagon and go driving off, or come back with a strange man and make all sorts of discombobulated remarks. You'd have thought we were at that hotel in Noow Yark City, with headlights flashing all night long."

The girls (minus Darla Jean and Heather) began to appear from the bathroom, dressed in robes, their hair wrapped in towels. None of them had the nerve to speak to me, however, which was for the best. I had no idea what might be going through their adolescent minds.