The Front Porch Prophet (21 page)

“Maybe,” he said, in response to the remodeling proposal. “We’ll see.” They finished their coffee in comfortable silence. As the night descended, a mist stole across the high valley and crept onto the porch. Maggie shuddered.

“Goose walk over your grave?” A.J. asked.

“It’s going to get cold early this year,” she responded.

“I think it might,” A.J. said. “It’s about time for it anyway. Halloween’s next week.” This was one of his favorite holidays, and he enjoyed immensely the ritual of dressing up to take the children out. Some of his more notable disguises were Richard Nixon, George Armstrong Custer the Day After, and a Rambler American, which was a great costume although a bit on the heavy side. This year he was planning to go as Nikita Khrushchev and was already beating podium-shaped objects with his shoe.

“Don’t remind me,” Maggie said. “I’ve got costumes to arrange.”

“What are we going to be this year?” he asked.

“I’ve got you to thank for this,” she said. “Most kids want to be ghosts or witches. Maybe a mime. But not my children. Nothing normal for them. Emily wants to go as Topo Gigio, Harper Lee wants to go as a fish, and J.J. wants to go black-and-white.”

“I don’t get that one.”

“You ought to get it,” she replied. “You started it when you told him the world used to be black and white. He said you even proved it.”

A.J. remembered. He and the children had been watching an old Basil Rathbone movie when J.J. asked why there was no color.

“The world used to be black and white,” he said to the children. “But aliens landed and zapped us with a color ray.”

“Uh-uh!” Harper Lee said.

“No way!” J.J. chimed.

“Daddy!” Emily added.

“I can prove it,” A.J. replied. He retrieved his videotape of
The Wizard of Oz
and plugged it in. The children watched open-mouthed as the film turned to Technicolor upon Dorothy’s arrival in Oz. “They were making this movie when the aliens landed,” he explained. “You can see right when we got zapped.” The young Longstreets were used to their father’s leg-pulling, and over the years he had made many an unfounded claim. But this time, it was different. They had seen the bona fides for themselves. There could be no doubt of the veracity of the claim. They believed.

“How hard can it be?” A.J. asked Maggie, referring to J.J.’s request. “Put him in black pants and a white shirt. A fish is going to be much harder.”

“Big talk, Nikita,” she responded. “He wants to look like he’s in a black-and-white movie. You know, that shades-of-grey, grainy look.”

“I have confidence in your ability,” A.J. smiled. “Maybe you can find him some size-four spats down at the Pic-N-Save.”

“Maybe you can quit filling their heads with garbage and make my life easier.”

“What do you want? An easy life or children who can think creatively?”

“Keep it up, and I’ll beat on you with my shoe,” Maggie said.

“Now, that’s more like it. Hold up while I go splash on a little Hai Karate.” He possessed what he believed to be the last bottle of the exotic fragrance extant.

“No, that’s all right. The fried Spam was bad enough.”

“I never admitted that,” he reminded her.

“You didn’t have to,” she reminded him back.

They lapsed into a contented repose and watched as the stars roused themselves for another night’s work. A.J. was glad to have Maggie back. Without her he was adrift in a world full of reefs. He no longer really understood where he left off and she began. She was the best person he had ever known, and he preferred her company above all others.

“How is Eugene?” she asked.

“He’s slipping fast,” came A.J.’s reply. He described the visit. She listened without comment, although her eyes mirrored sadness when he recounted the tale of Eugene’s reunion with Diane.

“I’m glad you made him come to town. I hope he and Diane made their peace.”

“They did,” he said. “He was low when I left him, but he asked me to go. He said he wanted to be alone.”

“Poor man,” she said simply. There was nothing else to say. Eugene had been a lucky man all of his life. Now his luck flowed away like water pouring from a hole in a bucket onto the sand in July. “You said Diane had company when you first arrived,” Maggie continued. “Who’s her new boyfriend?”

“I didn’t say a word about a boyfriend,” A.J. responded.

“But you said—”

“I said she had a friend. I did not use the word
boy,”
he replied.

“I’m missing you on this,” Maggie said, confused.

“I discovered Diane in a post-coital glow after having spent the evening with Truth Hannassey.” Truth had been among the first wave of new-and-improved Sequoyites. She had stumbled upon the little town a few years back and had fallen in love with its charm, beauty, and potential for financial gain. She had bought and restored a fine old home and from that base had proceeded to have her way with Cherokee County.

A.J.’s first meeting with Truth had been under unusual circumstances, and he would be the first to admit they had gotten off on the wrong foot. He felt the misstep was her fault, but the fact of the matter was that they had taken an instant dislike for each other, as if they had hated one another for many lifetimes.

A.J. had a habit of sleeping on the screened side porch during the warmer months and was doing just that one morning after a hard night at the sawmill when he was awakened by a loud pounding. Maggie was at work, the two girls were at school, and J.J. was fishing with John Robert. Still half-asleep, he arose, unhooked the screen, and stood eye to eye with Truth Hannassey. She was dressed in a nicely tailored business suit, and he was in his boxer shorts.

“Good morning,” she said, offering her hand. “I hope I didn’t wake you up. My name is Truth Hannassey.” He took her hand.

“A.J. Longstreet,” he mumbled, fighting to alertness. He figured she must be lost, broken down, or beset by other emergencies compelling enough to cause her to awaken sleeping strangers.

“I would like to talk to you about buying this house,” she continued briskly. He felt at a slight disadvantage in his drawers, confused and a little unnerved, but he was raised to be polite to strangers and to women, and his visitor was both.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stifling a yawn. “It’s not for sale.” He smiled, nodded, and began to turn away.

“Maybe you should hear my offer,” came her reply. A.J. stopped in mid-turn, rotated back, and took her gaze. Her tone wasn’t unfriendly. More like pushy. A.J. hated pushy.

“Ma’am, I don’t mean to offend, but it doesn’t matter what your offer is,” he said, taking one more cut at the ball. Some people just couldn’t take no for an answer. “I don’t want to sell my house. I do, however, want to go back to sleep. Please excuse me if I don’t show you out, but as you can see, I’m not wearing any pants.” He turned once more, intending to go find some peace.

“I notice that you’re wearing a wedding ring. Maybe you should talk over my offer with your wife.” A.J.
again
about-faced and stood boxer shorts to business suit with Truth Hannassey.

“Lady, go away. If you want to talk to my wife, come back at one a.m. and drag her out in her panties. Wear a raincoat, because I guarantee she’ll turn the garden hose on you. But for now, go away and let me sleep.” He pointed in the direction of the highway. There was a strange dynamic at play. Truth’s hardball stare had never left him. Finally, she flashed a smile.

“Your fly is open,” she said as she turned to leave.

“That’s not for sale, either,” came his reply.

“Not interested,” she hollered over her shoulder as she sauntered across the yard. He stood there, hairy-legged and bare-chested, and wondered what in hell that had been all about.

When Maggie arrived home, A.J. discussed the encounter with her and discovered that Truth had bought several properties around the county. Maggie had acquired this knowledge while lunching with Ms. Hannassey, who had tracked Maggie down after her chat with A.J. She had apparently been unwilling to take his word on the subject of selling the Folly. This knowledge did little to enhance his regard for her, and according to Maggie, the feeling was mutual. The word on the streets was that Truth was a wealthy real estate genius who had no use for the male of the species, living or dead.

“Well, neither do I,” A.J. said, stating their common ground, amazed that Truth had hunted Maggie up. He was a small town boy and liked it that way, a hayseed by conscious choice and not just dumb luck, and he had encountered very few beings similar to Truth on his travels through the maze. Indeed, he felt he could have gone much longer without the privilege. “At least you got to wear your pants while you were talking,” he noted.

“No wonder you didn’t get along with her,” Maggie said. “She’s very intense. Definitely not your cup of tea.”

“So, did you sell the house?” A.J. asked.

“No, but it was tempting. She offered two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Damn. I would have put on my pants for that.” Maybe he had been hasty.

“She also offered me a job,” Maggie continued. “She said she liked my style, but my taste in men sucked. She wanted me to be a liaison between her and the locals. She felt that I could open a few doors.” Maggie was smiling.

“Please tell me you turned her down,” he said. He just couldn’t envision having the boss, Truth Hannassey, over for dinner. It was too much to bear, trousers or no.

“It was a very good offer,” she said. He grimaced as if he had stepped on something jagged and rusty. “But I turned it down. The money would have been nice, but I don’t think I’m right for the work. I guess I’m pretty satisfied with what I do and what I have.” He quietly exhaled the breath he had been holding. “I’ll tell you one thing, though,” she continued. “I really like her. I think we’re going to be good friends.” He coughed. The whims of fate were as cruel as November wind.

Eugene, too, had made the acquaintance of Truth. She had walked into the beer joint and offered Eugene a very respectable sum of money for his mountain, on top of which she wished to build a subdivision. Eugene liked his mountain and had no need for more money, so he had declined the offer. There was, however, a complication. Eugene had become smitten with her.

“Man, you just know she has some fine pussy on her,” Eugene drooled.

“Eugene, she’s a lesbian,” A.J. told him. “She doesn’t like boys. She likes girls.”

“Give me thirty minutes with her, and I guarantee you I’ll have her straightened out,” he said, lust heavy in his voice. He had a bad case of it.

“I don’t think it works that way,” A.J. replied. “Anyway, you’re married. You don’t get to play with the big-city girls.”

“Well, you just mark this down,” Eugene had vowed. “It’s her destiny to enjoy a little Purdue bliss.” Thus was it written. Thus was it eventually done.

“Diane and Truth Hannassey together?” Maggie asked, incredulous. “I’m having a little trouble swallowing that one.” It was an accepted fact that Truth had a roving eye, but most of her companionship to date had been imported, due to the size of the local gene pool and its basically conservative demographic.

“Me, too,” A.J. agreed. “But there it was. I’m glad Eugene didn’t catch on. It would kill him to know he has driven Diane away from men completely.” He paused before continuing. “I think he was hoping for a reconciliation, and maybe one more for the road.”

“Sounds like that’s not going to happen,” Maggie said, distracted. “I’m sorry, but I’m still getting used to the concept. Are you sure it was Truth?”

“I swear it. I saw her.”

“Relationship-wise, Truth is probably a bigger disaster than Eugene. I hope Diane keeps her eyes open.”

“I think she ought to trip the light fantastic with Eugene one more time,” A.J. said.

“Why should she?” asked Maggie. “All that’s over between them. She doesn’t love him anymore. Why should she sleep with him?”

“Charity. Sympathy. Decency. I don’t know, but she ought to do it,” A.J. said. “You would give me one more tumble, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would. But you haven’t been an absolute shit for the last twenty years. It is through works, not faith, that dispossessed husbands earn one more for the road. Besides, I thought you had a pride problem when it came to charity sex.”

“I do, but I’m not obsessive about it.” He smiled.

“I might find myself in a charitable mood later,” she allowed. “But first we have some children to feed.”

“Great,” he said. “I’ve been kind of steamed up since I saw Diane in her gown.” He earned an elbow in the ribs for the revelation.

They arose, and together they set to the evening chores. A.J. cooked supper while Maggie oversaw the bathing of their offspring. Later, the children were put down, each with a kiss and a story. Later still, in the glow of the moonlight as it filtered through the windowpanes, Maggie and A.J. drifted off in the easy embrace of two people unquestionably in love.

A.J. AWOKE EARLY THE NEXT MORNING. HIS EVENING
of intimacy with Maggie had done much to improve his mood. She had the ability to make him feel like he was a part of the world rather than just a mildly interested observer, and he felt renewed. He slipped out of bed carefully, so as not to awaken her, although she stirred and reached for him. He sat on the side of the bed and took her hand, and she murmured an almost inaudible sound as she settled back into slumber. He gently stroked her hair while she slept. He often watched her in repose; it instilled in him a sense of serenity.

She loved to sleep late, although the opportunity to do so did not often present itself. A.J., on the other hand, slept very little, never longer than five or six hours. He had received this trait from John Robert, and there was nothing much he could do about it. It was a factor set at conception, like hair color or political affiliation. Pigs can’t fly because pork is heavy, snakes crawl on their bellies because they have no feet, and A.J. was up before the sun because his eyes would not stay closed.