Read Online The Queen of Sleepy Eye by Patti Hill - Free Book Online Page B

Surely Mrs. Clancy had covered Miss Bigelow with a blanket. Did she still wear her house dress? Her shoes? Her watch? Would the mortician check to see if she wore clean underwear? To settle my brain, I prayed for everyone I knew from A to Z . First, Annette, the only person I’d ever known with hair coarser than mine. She’d come new to my school in the middle of third grade, wearing her hair parted down the middle and held flat to her head by two barrettes the size of tongue depressors. Now that she was headed for the University of Illinois in Chicago, I prayed that she had cut her hair into one of those short curly-top dos that had become popular. I prayed for Bobby Kennedy’s eleven children, although technically they weren’t anyone I knew. They all paid so dearly for having a dad too noble for this world. I drew a breath. Maybe the same had been true of my father.
    Carlos came to mind when I thought of names that began with C . He’d fled Cuba with his mother and sister when his father had been jailed for disagreeing with Castro. Carlos barely spoke English when he arrived at my elementary school, but he told me he loved me every day. I prayed for his father to join him in America. D is for dad. I know. It was useless to pray for someone who had already died,but reason never seemed to matter when I thought of seeing my dad in heaven someday. When I’d been saved, I drove Mom to madness asking about Dad’s standing with God. Mom finally assured me that he’d been a faithful member of the Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church.
    â€œBut he was Portuguese,” I said.
    â€œIt was a mixed marriage. His mother was a Lutheran.”
    I figured the Lutherans preached a good come-to-Jesus sermon. They had churches in every city I’d ever visited, so I prayed for my dad, that he was enjoying the fine mansion Jesus had built for him and that he thought of me, even while basking in the glory of God’s presence. I possessed a surety that he was there waiting for me.
    Thank you, Lord.
    By the time I got to the V s, Vinita Mae Lundquist popped into my head. She was Gilbertsville’s old maid. She never opened her shades. Lord, be her light. I lay there listening to the clock ticking and the cricket’s chirrup, and because I couldn’t help myself, I wondered if Miss Bigelow had ever counted a cricket’s chirrups to determine the temperature.
    The latch of my bedroom door clicked and the whine of the hinges slid to a higher octave as the door opened. My mother trotted on tiptoe to my bed and lifted the covers to join me. There was no sense pretending to be asleep, so I scooted close to drape my arm over her stomach. At my touch, her belly softened with a sigh.
    â€œThere’s something I have to tell you,” she said.
    â€œYou don’t have to whisper.”
    â€œI got a job at the hardware store.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œWe need cash to pay for the car repairs and for living expenses in California.”
    â€œWe were going to do this funeral thing together.”
    â€œYou and I both know I won’t answer any death calls or drive a hearse.”
    â€œYou can’t leave me here alone.”
    â€œIn a couple months, you’ll be living alone in Santa Barbara. This is good training for you. If you can manage a funeral home, you’ll do fine in the big city.” She turned away from me. “I have to be there by seven o’clock. Farmers like to shop early.”
    â€œHow … when did you get a job?”
    She yawned. “Last night at the Stop-and-Chomp when Bonnie and me—”
    â€œBonnie and I .”
    â€œBonnie and me stopped there for coffee and pie. I was just about to ask the waitress for an application when the Gartleys walked in. They own the hardware store on Main Street. Bonnie went to high school with Russell. They joined us and showed great interest in my story. The wife, I can’t remember her name, wants