Read Online The Quaker Café by Brenda Bevan Remmes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brenda Bevan Remmes
Ads: Link
cerise collar with several sparkling glass jewels embedded.
Liz greeted several of the guests; a more reserved group, no cooler of beer on the outdoor patio . Leland Slade, one of the Quaker elders, nodded at her wordlessly as he turned to leave. A giant of a man with a bushfire beard that concealed the bottom of his face, he saw little use for idle chatter. Liz was never sure how to approach him.
Kate Pearson, recently retired , also a Quaker, came up and slipped her hand into Liz’s. “I know you and Maggie are good friends. If there’s anything I can do…” she left the words suspended in air.
“Thank you,” Liz said . “I think things are under control for right now, but I’ll let you know.”
“I’ve heard what she’s requested for the service,” Kate continued . “There are some in town who are critical, but you know I’ve been through that. Different ideas are not always appreciated. I hope she knows many support what she’s doing.”
“Thank you,” Liz said, “I’ll tell her.”
Kate’s offer was genuine. Twenty years earlier when her daughter had married a young black man, her own Quaker meeting had failed to reach a consensus to approve the marriage. Ralph Edgewater felt that it was an unwise decision; he refused to step aside, making it impossible to grant approval. He was set in his ways and could not be moved. The wedding was held in the Philadelphia Meeting instead of Cedar Branch.
Liz knew Kate was deeply hurt by the lack of support, even if it did rest on the shoulders of one individual. That has been one of the challenges of being a Quaker: consensus has to be found. One person has the ability to block a decision from moving forward.
A big pot of coffee and tray of cookies sat on the counter. Liz sidled up to Billie . “Where’s Maggie?” she asked.
“She’s upstairs with the casket,” Billie said.
“Alone?”
“There are a few others up there with her; ladies from the church . Helen is one. Your mother-in-law and father-in-law went up a bit ago. I think they’re still there. Want a glass of wine?”
“I’ll take it,” Liz said, needing something to fortify herself before an encounter with Grandpa Hoole, given the previous evening’s surprise.
Liz took a swallow and then put the glass back in front of Billie, who obliged her with a refill . As she put the glass to her lips Billie nodded to the stairs as Euphrasia and Nathan cautiously descended. Liz considered chucking the wine in the sink and ducking out-of-sight, but they had already seen her.
They both looked weary, their skin taut, their eyes dark with circles . Grandma Hoole wore a loose-fitting gray dress. Grandpa wore a traditional collarless white shirt and black trousers with suspenders. Liz had seen him only once in a suit, at her wedding in St. Paul. She had wondered why he’d made that one exception. Like most Quakers, he never wore a tie; and although he still had one of the wide brim hats, he wore it only in cold weather to protect his bald head. Liz hadn’t seen Grandma in her bonnet in years.
Wearing hats was becoming a thing of the past, except for Leland, who stuck to the old ways. He could always be seen working on his farm, in town, or around his house, wearing either his wide brim black or brown hat. The custom dated back to the beginnings of Quakerism when George Fox refused to take off his hat to anyone. Fox insisted that to be required to remove one’s hat in respect to another implied that the two men were not on equal footing. Since all men were equal in the sight of God, they were likewise equal in the sight of other men. He was thrown in jail on numerous occasions for what the English saw as a failure to respect the many tiers of social stratification within that society.
Liz embraced Grandma . They were about the same height, although Grandma had shrunk a bit in recent years. She kept her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Liz always felt that if she could convince Grandma to
Liz greeted several of the guests; a more reserved group, no cooler of beer on the outdoor patio . Leland Slade, one of the Quaker elders, nodded at her wordlessly as he turned to leave. A giant of a man with a bushfire beard that concealed the bottom of his face, he saw little use for idle chatter. Liz was never sure how to approach him.
Kate Pearson, recently retired , also a Quaker, came up and slipped her hand into Liz’s. “I know you and Maggie are good friends. If there’s anything I can do…” she left the words suspended in air.
“Thank you,” Liz said . “I think things are under control for right now, but I’ll let you know.”
“I’ve heard what she’s requested for the service,” Kate continued . “There are some in town who are critical, but you know I’ve been through that. Different ideas are not always appreciated. I hope she knows many support what she’s doing.”
“Thank you,” Liz said, “I’ll tell her.”
Kate’s offer was genuine. Twenty years earlier when her daughter had married a young black man, her own Quaker meeting had failed to reach a consensus to approve the marriage. Ralph Edgewater felt that it was an unwise decision; he refused to step aside, making it impossible to grant approval. He was set in his ways and could not be moved. The wedding was held in the Philadelphia Meeting instead of Cedar Branch.
Liz knew Kate was deeply hurt by the lack of support, even if it did rest on the shoulders of one individual. That has been one of the challenges of being a Quaker: consensus has to be found. One person has the ability to block a decision from moving forward.
A big pot of coffee and tray of cookies sat on the counter. Liz sidled up to Billie . “Where’s Maggie?” she asked.
“She’s upstairs with the casket,” Billie said.
“Alone?”
“There are a few others up there with her; ladies from the church . Helen is one. Your mother-in-law and father-in-law went up a bit ago. I think they’re still there. Want a glass of wine?”
“I’ll take it,” Liz said, needing something to fortify herself before an encounter with Grandpa Hoole, given the previous evening’s surprise.
Liz took a swallow and then put the glass back in front of Billie, who obliged her with a refill . As she put the glass to her lips Billie nodded to the stairs as Euphrasia and Nathan cautiously descended. Liz considered chucking the wine in the sink and ducking out-of-sight, but they had already seen her.
They both looked weary, their skin taut, their eyes dark with circles . Grandma Hoole wore a loose-fitting gray dress. Grandpa wore a traditional collarless white shirt and black trousers with suspenders. Liz had seen him only once in a suit, at her wedding in St. Paul. She had wondered why he’d made that one exception. Like most Quakers, he never wore a tie; and although he still had one of the wide brim hats, he wore it only in cold weather to protect his bald head. Liz hadn’t seen Grandma in her bonnet in years.
Wearing hats was becoming a thing of the past, except for Leland, who stuck to the old ways. He could always be seen working on his farm, in town, or around his house, wearing either his wide brim black or brown hat. The custom dated back to the beginnings of Quakerism when George Fox refused to take off his hat to anyone. Fox insisted that to be required to remove one’s hat in respect to another implied that the two men were not on equal footing. Since all men were equal in the sight of God, they were likewise equal in the sight of other men. He was thrown in jail on numerous occasions for what the English saw as a failure to respect the many tiers of social stratification within that society.
Liz embraced Grandma . They were about the same height, although Grandma had shrunk a bit in recent years. She kept her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Liz always felt that if she could convince Grandma to
Similar Books
