Read Online Mercy Me by Margaret A. Graham - Free Book Online Page A

breeze that whispered in the tree leaves. A June bug was buzzing somewhere. “Any chance we’ll get some rain?”
    Rubbing his head with the knuckles of his knobby old hand, he said, “Not anytime soon, ’less the Lord takes a notion to give us some.”
    The children were squealing and running barefoot, splashing in the water. As we watched them, I figured Elijah knew more about them than he was telling me, and if he did, I needn’t to worry. He would see that no harm came to them.
    I gave up on talking about the tiller. Elijah’s heart was too heavy. And then, too, I figured I might not be able to find one. Besides, he would need a vehicle to haul it in.
    â€œElijah, you need anything?” Of course, he wouldn’t tell me if he did. “You let me know if I can do anything for you. Need a ride to town?”
    â€œNo’m.”
    Well, I had to go, so I stood up. I was about to get back in the Chevy when he called to me. “Miz Esmeralda, if you get a chance, ask your preacher to pray for us some rain.”
    I stopped dead in my tracks and looked back at him. I knew exactly what he was up to. He wanted me to ask that so the preacher would know he had no hard feelings about Maude, and also, more important than anything, that he still believed in Pastor Osborne’s prayers.
    On the way home I kept thinking about Elijah asking me to do that. I don’t know one white man in Live Oaks who would’ve picked up on the preacher’s feelings and figured out a way to encourage him. It takes a long life of living, living beset with put-downs and downright meanness, to spot the same trouble in another man.
    I say Elijah’s wisdom goes beyond just knowing how that kind of trouble feels—he knows how to do something about it. I decided that hard knocks alone don’t give him that gift; Elijah’s wisdom comes from above.
    I couldn’t wait to get home and call Pastor Osborne. I got him on the first ring.
    After I got that done, the next day I made it a point to get back in touch with Beatrice. If she was in a better frame of mind, I had something to tell her that would require my best powers of persuasion. Since she was off work on Friday, I put in the call as soon as I thought she would be up. I knew my phone bill was going to look like the national debt if I kept this up much longer, but I didn’t know what that girl would do without me.
    As it turned out, I caught her just as she rolled out. Of course, she hadn’t slept much because of the noise upstairs, but I didn’t jump on that right away. We shot the breeze a few minutes, and then I got down to business.
    â€œBeatrice,” I said, “now you listen to me. I have got a foolproof strategy that will take care of the problem you’ve got with the neighbors. Take them something to eat.”
    â€œWhat!” She sounded like she was going to come through the receiver.
    â€œYou heard me. Like as not, the wife can’t cook, so a dish of something will be a treat they can’t turn down.”
    â€œYou must be kidding!”
    â€œNo, I am not. Make your specialty, that lemon meringue pie. Pile it up high. As soon as they come home from work, march yourself up them steps and knock on the door. Whichever one comes to the door, introduce yourself. If they don’t invite you in, give them the pie anyway and suggest in a nice way that they can return the plate when it’s convenient. If they ask you to come inside, do. Visit with them a little while, then ask them to come visit you sometime.”
    â€œYou must be out of your mind!”
    â€œI am, but so are you, remember?”
    â€œEsmeralda, there is no way in the world I can do that. They come in fighting like the gingham dog and the calico cat! They like as not throw that pie right back in my face.”
    â€œHave you not had a pie throwed in your face before? You will live, I guarantee.”
    â€œNo. There is no