body in the funeral home is not the person. It's the person's body. Why can't your mother talk about the person, for God's sake?"
"Don't you use profanity in this kitchen. And don't get uppity because your mother's here. What do you expect? They were being respectful of Hattie Rigsbee. That's all. I'll bet you didn't even know she died."
"Respect is not the word. Morbid is the word. No, I didn't know Hattie Rigsbee died. I didn't even know Hattie Rigsbee. I didn't even know Hattie Rigsbee was born.'"
"Well, you should have. You been living around here long enough." I was looking for cookies as hard as I could.
"Raney, we don't live around here. We live in Listre."
About that time I heard Mama coming down the hall. She came on in the kitchen. "Look, it's no need to mess with coffee," she said. "Mrs. Shepherd says she needs to get on over to ya'll's house and get settled. Next Sunday you're all invited over here after church for dinner. Her airplane don't leave until six-thirty so it'll work out just right. And we can all go to church together Sunday morning."
We drove home and got Millie and all her bags settled in the guest room. I'd planned to fix a meatloaf for supper but remembered Sunday about her being a vegetarian. Charles said to fix omelettes but I'd never cooked a omelette so I had to call Madora for a recipe. I practiced Sunday night, so the real thing Monday night turned out pretty good. Millie helped.
Charles had cooked — of all things — one of Aunt Flossie's apple pies. He got her to show him exactly how to cook one — he likes them so much. After his mama had a piece she raved about it and asked me what the recipe was. That Charles just sat there smiling and did not say one thing until I explained to Millie that Charles fixed it, not me. She thought I was kidding until Charles talked through about the ingredients and how you fix it. I didn't dare mention that I hadn't ever taken on any kind of pie. This one was good. It was a little tart, but it was good.
I was just beginning to relax when Millie asks, "Is there an Episcopal church nearby?" I had forgot about her changing over to the Episcopals.
"There's one in White Level," says Charles. "Sara — at the library — goes there."
"You're more than welcome to come to our church," I said. "And since we're going to eat at Mama's, we'll be close by."
"I really like the formality of the Episcopal service," says Millie. "I've gotten used to it. Charles, give them a call this week and if they're celebrating Eucharist Sunday morning at around ten or eleven, I could slip over for that."
I didn't know what a Eucharist was. Likely as not they'd be celebrating something.
"Or," she says, " if you two like, you could come along with me."
"I don't think I could go to an Episcopal church," I said.
"Why not?" they both said.
"They're against some of the things we believe in most."
"What do you mean by that?" said Charles.
"Well, they serve real wine at the Lord's supper. And they have priests, don't they?"
"Yes," said Millie.
"Well, I don't especially approve of the way priests drink."
"Jesus drank — if that's what you mean — as I understand it," she says.
"I don't think so."
"Well, he turned the water into wine at the wedding feast."
"Yes, but that was grape juice."
"Grape juice?"
"If Jesus turned water into wine on the spot," I said, "it had to be grape juice because it didn't have time to ferment."
There was a pause.
"If Jesus could make wine," says Charles (you could tell whose side he was on), "he could just as easily make it fermented as not, couldn't he? Why mess around with half a miracle?"
"I've been going to Bethel Free Will Baptist Church for twenty-four years now," I said, "and Mr. Brooks, Mr. Tolley, Mr. Honneycutt, and all these other men have been studying the Bible for all their lives and they say it's grape juice. All added together they've probably studied the Bible over a hundred years. I'm not going to sit in my own
"Don't you use profanity in this kitchen. And don't get uppity because your mother's here. What do you expect? They were being respectful of Hattie Rigsbee. That's all. I'll bet you didn't even know she died."
"Respect is not the word. Morbid is the word. No, I didn't know Hattie Rigsbee died. I didn't even know Hattie Rigsbee. I didn't even know Hattie Rigsbee was born.'"
"Well, you should have. You been living around here long enough." I was looking for cookies as hard as I could.
"Raney, we don't live around here. We live in Listre."
About that time I heard Mama coming down the hall. She came on in the kitchen. "Look, it's no need to mess with coffee," she said. "Mrs. Shepherd says she needs to get on over to ya'll's house and get settled. Next Sunday you're all invited over here after church for dinner. Her airplane don't leave until six-thirty so it'll work out just right. And we can all go to church together Sunday morning."
We drove home and got Millie and all her bags settled in the guest room. I'd planned to fix a meatloaf for supper but remembered Sunday about her being a vegetarian. Charles said to fix omelettes but I'd never cooked a omelette so I had to call Madora for a recipe. I practiced Sunday night, so the real thing Monday night turned out pretty good. Millie helped.
Charles had cooked — of all things — one of Aunt Flossie's apple pies. He got her to show him exactly how to cook one — he likes them so much. After his mama had a piece she raved about it and asked me what the recipe was. That Charles just sat there smiling and did not say one thing until I explained to Millie that Charles fixed it, not me. She thought I was kidding until Charles talked through about the ingredients and how you fix it. I didn't dare mention that I hadn't ever taken on any kind of pie. This one was good. It was a little tart, but it was good.
I was just beginning to relax when Millie asks, "Is there an Episcopal church nearby?" I had forgot about her changing over to the Episcopals.
"There's one in White Level," says Charles. "Sara — at the library — goes there."
"You're more than welcome to come to our church," I said. "And since we're going to eat at Mama's, we'll be close by."
"I really like the formality of the Episcopal service," says Millie. "I've gotten used to it. Charles, give them a call this week and if they're celebrating Eucharist Sunday morning at around ten or eleven, I could slip over for that."
I didn't know what a Eucharist was. Likely as not they'd be celebrating something.
"Or," she says, " if you two like, you could come along with me."
"I don't think I could go to an Episcopal church," I said.
"Why not?" they both said.
"They're against some of the things we believe in most."
"What do you mean by that?" said Charles.
"Well, they serve real wine at the Lord's supper. And they have priests, don't they?"
"Yes," said Millie.
"Well, I don't especially approve of the way priests drink."
"Jesus drank — if that's what you mean — as I understand it," she says.
"I don't think so."
"Well, he turned the water into wine at the wedding feast."
"Yes, but that was grape juice."
"Grape juice?"
"If Jesus turned water into wine on the spot," I said, "it had to be grape juice because it didn't have time to ferment."
There was a pause.
"If Jesus could make wine," says Charles (you could tell whose side he was on), "he could just as easily make it fermented as not, couldn't he? Why mess around with half a miracle?"
"I've been going to Bethel Free Will Baptist Church for twenty-four years now," I said, "and Mr. Brooks, Mr. Tolley, Mr. Honneycutt, and all these other men have been studying the Bible for all their lives and they say it's grape juice. All added together they've probably studied the Bible over a hundred years. I'm not going to sit in my own
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