Read Online Just Shy of Harmony by Philip Gulley - Free Book Online
Authors: Philip Gulley
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in her diary about the perfect date. It had taken eleven years, but now she’d finally had it.
They pulled up to Mabel Morrison’s house a little before seven. Mabel left for bridge and Wayne and Deena sat on the porch talking while the children played tag in the front yard. Then five-year-old Kate settled into Deena’s lap and fell asleep.
A little after nine, Wayne stood to leave. “Time I got the kids home,” he said.
He carried Kate to the truck and propped her in the seat. Adam and Rachel squeezed in around her. Wayne buckled them in.
He climbed in the truck. Deena was standing at his door.
“Thank you,” she said. “Can we go out again? Soon.”
He smiled. He felt bold. “Only if we end up in Las Vegas.”
Deena blushed.
He drove home in a fog of love. He ran the kids through the bathtub, brushed their teeth, tucked them in bed, and read them a story. He watched them as they fell asleep, three little breathing lumps lying in a row.
He went outside and sat on the front steps. He thought about Deena and their day together. He wished she were here now. Right beside him. For the rest of his life.
The phone rang through the screen door, an intrusion of noise. He hurried inside and picked it up. He could hear slight weeping on the other end.
“Hello,” Wayne said. “Hello, who is this?”
“It’s me, Wayne. Sally. Your wife. I want to come home. I want to be with you and the kids. I want us to be a family again. I’m so sorry. Will you take me back?”
Eight
The Jackpot
I t never pays to ask if things can get worse, Jessie Peacock told herself on the way home from church.
It was the first Sunday in August. Asa was working overtime at the poultry plant, so she’d gone to church by herself. Vernley Stout, the bank president, had stopped Jessie on the steps outside the meetinghouse.
“Jessie, I’ve done all I can, but the board’s leaning on me pretty heavy. If you don’t pay off last year’s note, they’re gonna put a lien against your farm. They want two thousand dollars by Friday.”
Jessie lay awake all that night, wondering how to get the money. The only thing she had of any worth was her grandmother’s quilts. Her mother had given them to Jessie just before she’d died. Ten hand-stitched quilts. She’d made Jessie promise to keep them in the family.
The next morning Jessie told Asa she needed the truck to visit her cousin. While he was working on the barn, she carried the quilts to the truck, drove to an antique store in the city, and sold them for two thousand dollars. Then she went to the bank and gave Vernley Stout the money.
“I’m glad you got the money,” he told her. “I’m sorry I had to hurry you along, but I couldn’t put off the board any longer.”
“I don’t blame you. You’re just doing your job.”
Vernley paused, then said, “Jessie, I’m not aiming to badger you, but you and Asa haven’t put anything toward this year’s note. Are you going to be able to pay that off when it comes due this fall? Tell me now, so I can maybe hold off the board.”
“I don’t know, Vernley, what with this drought and all. Asa’s been working overtime at the poultry plant. We hope to have the money, but I can’t say for sure.”
The next day a registered letter from the state lottery office came just as Jessie was making lunch. Their mailman, Clarence, brought it to the back screen door and waited while Jessie signed for it. Clarence was curious about the envelope and hoped Jessie would open it while he was there, but she didn’t. She thanked him, then closed the screen door, and sat at the kitchen table.
She opened the envelope and read:
This is to notify you that your winning lottery ticket will expire on August 23. If you do not accept your winnings by that date, you will forfeit any and all claims to the money.
There was a number to call at the bottom of the page.
Jessie thought about the note coming due. She rose from her chair and walked to the phone
They pulled up to Mabel Morrison’s house a little before seven. Mabel left for bridge and Wayne and Deena sat on the porch talking while the children played tag in the front yard. Then five-year-old Kate settled into Deena’s lap and fell asleep.
A little after nine, Wayne stood to leave. “Time I got the kids home,” he said.
He carried Kate to the truck and propped her in the seat. Adam and Rachel squeezed in around her. Wayne buckled them in.
He climbed in the truck. Deena was standing at his door.
“Thank you,” she said. “Can we go out again? Soon.”
He smiled. He felt bold. “Only if we end up in Las Vegas.”
Deena blushed.
He drove home in a fog of love. He ran the kids through the bathtub, brushed their teeth, tucked them in bed, and read them a story. He watched them as they fell asleep, three little breathing lumps lying in a row.
He went outside and sat on the front steps. He thought about Deena and their day together. He wished she were here now. Right beside him. For the rest of his life.
The phone rang through the screen door, an intrusion of noise. He hurried inside and picked it up. He could hear slight weeping on the other end.
“Hello,” Wayne said. “Hello, who is this?”
“It’s me, Wayne. Sally. Your wife. I want to come home. I want to be with you and the kids. I want us to be a family again. I’m so sorry. Will you take me back?”
Eight
The Jackpot
I t never pays to ask if things can get worse, Jessie Peacock told herself on the way home from church.
It was the first Sunday in August. Asa was working overtime at the poultry plant, so she’d gone to church by herself. Vernley Stout, the bank president, had stopped Jessie on the steps outside the meetinghouse.
“Jessie, I’ve done all I can, but the board’s leaning on me pretty heavy. If you don’t pay off last year’s note, they’re gonna put a lien against your farm. They want two thousand dollars by Friday.”
Jessie lay awake all that night, wondering how to get the money. The only thing she had of any worth was her grandmother’s quilts. Her mother had given them to Jessie just before she’d died. Ten hand-stitched quilts. She’d made Jessie promise to keep them in the family.
The next morning Jessie told Asa she needed the truck to visit her cousin. While he was working on the barn, she carried the quilts to the truck, drove to an antique store in the city, and sold them for two thousand dollars. Then she went to the bank and gave Vernley Stout the money.
“I’m glad you got the money,” he told her. “I’m sorry I had to hurry you along, but I couldn’t put off the board any longer.”
“I don’t blame you. You’re just doing your job.”
Vernley paused, then said, “Jessie, I’m not aiming to badger you, but you and Asa haven’t put anything toward this year’s note. Are you going to be able to pay that off when it comes due this fall? Tell me now, so I can maybe hold off the board.”
“I don’t know, Vernley, what with this drought and all. Asa’s been working overtime at the poultry plant. We hope to have the money, but I can’t say for sure.”
The next day a registered letter from the state lottery office came just as Jessie was making lunch. Their mailman, Clarence, brought it to the back screen door and waited while Jessie signed for it. Clarence was curious about the envelope and hoped Jessie would open it while he was there, but she didn’t. She thanked him, then closed the screen door, and sat at the kitchen table.
She opened the envelope and read:
This is to notify you that your winning lottery ticket will expire on August 23. If you do not accept your winnings by that date, you will forfeit any and all claims to the money.
There was a number to call at the bottom of the page.
Jessie thought about the note coming due. She rose from her chair and walked to the phone
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