Read Online Contemporary Women's Fiction: Agnes Hopper Shakes Up Sweetbriar (Humorous Women's Fiction) by Carol Heilman - Free Book Online

and ate quickly. My meatloaf, macaroni and cheese, and canned green beans were gone in no time. I even scraped my dish of instant chocolate pudding like it was Mama’s, made from scratch. The director wasn’t around, but I knew she hadn’t gone far.
    “Where is she, do you think?” I asked Smiley.
    “Who? Miss Johnson? Sometimes she helps feed and bathe Ida Mae. Gets her settled for the night so she won’t disturb anyone.”
    “She does? Why?”
    “Why? Ida Mae’s her mother. That’s why.”
    “What? That wild woman is her
mother
?”
    “Didn’t you wonder how someone that bad off could live here? Has her here for a reason, don’tcha know.”
    Smiley finished his last bite of pudding and drank a full glass of milk. I started to ask what he meant, but when he put his glass down, he said, “Most people do the best they can, Sis. Miss Johnson might bend some rules now and then, but if she didn’t let people like Ida Mae—or me—live here, where would we be?”
    I was shocked that Smiley put himself in the same category as Ida Mae. Speechless, in fact. Lollipop maybe, but not Smiley.
    Finally, gathering my wits about me, I said, “You’re around Alice so much you’re starting to sound like her—talking in riddles. Soon you’re going to start looking like her.”
    I was miffed, but thinking about what I’d just said—little hunched-over Smiley looking like lanky Alice—was ridiculous. They actually reminded me of Mutt and Jeff. That tickled my funny bone, and snickers gave way to giggles. Smiley joined in a little, probably just to be polite, but the rest of our table looked at me like I’d lost my last marble. Laughing and acting silly now and then is good for the soul, I always say.
    When we were leaving the table, I leaned over and whispered in Smiley’s ear, “Do you know what they say about you, following Alice around like you do?”
    He shook his head and looked puzzled.
    I held back a grin and made something up on the spot. “They say you must be her bodyguard, sticking so close all the time.”
    He studied me a minute, then his big eyes got even bigger. “Oh, Sis, you’re pulling my leg. You’re a mess.”
    He left the dining room shaking his head and chuckling. He headed toward the small reading room where, each evening, Alice read poetry—usually Robert Frost or some of her own. Sometimes it was the Bible. She would read aloud to anyone who cared to listen. Smiley always did, along with a handful of others.
    A larger group gathered in the main sitting room, and that’s just what they did—sit. I felt restless. Someone was doing a fair job on the piano with some old Baptist hymns. “Only Trust Him” followed me into the left hall where I stopped to read the large calendar posted for August.
    Betty Jo had called earlier, sandwiched between a garden club luncheon, a town council meeting, and carting off loads of stuff that wouldn’t fit into her new place to the Salvation Army. I tried to sound cheerful. We talked about Miss Margaret, the weather, how I dearly loved my new room, and, yes, how Pearl and I were reliving old times. I didn’t tell her about Prissy’s—I mean Miss Johnson’s—antics or Ida Mae, completely loco, living in a room not far from mine, or Pearl not remembering our growing-up years, or even me, in the least bit. Nor did I tell her about Smiley’s big brown eyes or his frequent nightmares. Or the little house that had already been rented. Or the call to check on the apartment after all the hoopla about the danger of high blood pressure and promising to behave. No need to tell her the house with a perfect yard for my precious pig was no longer available. Or Blind George’s phone being out of order. No need.

    According to the calendar, every Saturday afternoon at two o’clock in the dining room, Sweetbriar’s women’s club hosted bingo. While wondering if my daughter would have time to be one of the volunteers, I heard a voice humming a lullaby. When I