The Lutheran Ladies' Circle: Plucking One String (12 page)

“Well, I like doughnuts, but I don’t want a whole supper of them.” Hettie patted her friend’s shoulder. “For once Kay had a good idea.”

Lorena tapped her manicured nails on the table. “I agree. The Bible says, ‘for every time there is a season.’ All in favor of beginning our starving season with pancakes raise your hand.”

“Lorena.” Hettie used her teacher’s voice. “How about letting Vera run the meeting?”

Vera closed her eyes, gave a huff, and shook her head. She waved her hand in dismissal. “I guess you’ve decided, then.”

“Surely our ancestors had beer at this thing. It’d be much better attended,” Kay said as Nan quietly left the room before job assignments began.

THREE WEEKS LATER, Allie stood at the church kitchen stove, creating flapjacks in the shape of overweight bears with chocolate chip eyes. Lopsided piles of golden pancakes sat in warming trays. Allie’s husband placed a vat of maple syrup next to pots of homemade blueberry and chunky strawberry syrups. He gave each container a stir and adjusted the flame under the chafing dishes. Bowls of bananas, pineapple, raspberries, walnuts, and honey-butter littered the table. It wasn’t magazine-pretty, but there was plenty of it. Accordion music and the scent of fried bacon drifted through the Fellowship Hall.

“Is Elke going to play his wheeze-box during this whole meal?” one of the ladies asked Vera as they filed downstairs.

“I don’t know. I didn’t okay it.” Vera’s words dropped like ice on the tiled floor. She had made careful sign-up sheets for the
Faschnacht
Feast. Food wouldn’t be duplicated. Her work shifts would cover all tasks. The notices she’d put in the bulletins had given plenty of advance notice. She hadn’t used the graphics Kay designed for the event: a pile of happy pancakes covered with a syrup cross. It was too kitschy. Vera had thanked her, and then used her own PR. Simple, plain words got the job done. Everything had been planned.

“Elke.” Vera tapped the white-haired man on the shoulder. “I didn’t know you were playing, today. You didn’t sign up.”

“I asked Pastor Poe,” he said as he did a double-step, dancing with the three-year-old at his feet. “He told me to have a good time.”

Vera scanned the room for the minister. Her face went blank when she saw the banner over a coffee stand with Kay’s Christian pancakes smiling and announcing: Lattes for Mission Trips. Beneath the bright banner, Hettie’s husband was straw-bossing the youth on how to use the borrowed espresso machine.

She hadn’t approved the fundraiser either. Good grief! Would no one tell her anything anymore? Vera returned to scanning the room for the Pastor. The grooves of her frown deepened as her sight skipped over the woman ordering a drink. Most likely, she’d had a hand in this insurrection.

“I’ll have a decaf, single, ristretto, grande, five-pump chocolate, non-fat, no whip, extra-hot mocha,” Kay said.

Hettie’s husband, a broad-shouldered man, kept his wire-rimmed glasses riding on the tip of his nose. He peered over their rims, giving her a spiritless look. “You can have a latte: caramel, vanilla, or raspberry.”

“Such a surly employee. Don’t expect a tip.”

“I’m going to make yours last.”

“Elke.” Kay waved. “Come over here and play right next to Merle; he just
loves
polka music.”

The stairwell next to them began to vibrate. Children came thundering down the steps only to be tugged back outside by parents. Most of the kids’ feet were covered with muck and grass clippings.

Micki watched Johnny grab a plate, pieces of mud flaking onto it from his small, grubby hands. “How did you get so filthy, honey?”

He gave the adult a skeptical frown. “I was playing outside.” Without a word, his father took the plate and pulled him toward the restroom.

“No. No. I wanna eat.” he yelled.

Their exodus passed Lorena who was coming down the stairs. “I know just how you feel, kid,” she said and walked directly toward the table of ladies sipping their lattes.

“Lorena! You…look…uh…” Nan paused.

“Like I stuck my head in a toilet and flushed it a couple of times?”

“Well, I was going to say frazzled.”

“It’s those damn Canada geese hanging around on our lawn. Everyone thinks they’re so charming.”

“Lorena. Such language out of that designer mouth of yours.” Kay held a hand to her cheek. “And it’s just one lonely goose, the rest are ducks.”

“I don’t care. All of those fowl are instruments of Satan. They’re possessed! I was walking across our lawn with a bowl of fruit, and that big ol’ he-goose runs right at me, beating his wings and hissing like a snake.”

“He hissed?” Hettie asked.

“You can tell a bird’s gender?” Kay’s eyebrows rose.

“He hissed, spit, and his head spun on his neck.” Lorena twirled her finger. “He probably was vomiting algae too. I don’t know. I screamed, ran, then I tripped, or slipped, or something. Right down into a flowerbed of mud and duck crap. I’ll probably have typhoid and—”

“I wish I could’ve seen that,” Nan said. Receiving Lorena’s stare, she added, “But it’s terrible.”

“I think it’s just diarrhea and pink eye you’ll get; typhoid comes from rats.” Kay patted her shoulder.

Lorena held her glare. “It gets worse. I tried to look nice today because I wanted to meet the new guy, Robert Fullerton—again. But I’d spilled my Heavenly Peachy Salad, and as soon as I was down, those ducks were on me like I was a June bug. They noodled my legs and my new floral blouse; the goose was taking whacks at my head. The only reason I look this good is because half of the demon spawn was attacking Vera.”

“Poor Vera. That’s just what she needs.” Hettie looked around the room. “To discover even the birds have it in for her.”

“Hey! She did better than yours truly here. After she booted a few, they backed off. And then Walt ran to help her. Of course, I was being pecked alive at the time. Finally, he got around to rescuing me, trying to whack those da—those demonic birds off my back. Hit me in the head once. He was behind me, and when he yanked me to my feet, I used more than a few inelegant words on him. He’s the one who made feeding stands for that crew of moochers. I was serious-mad.

“That’s when I heard Walt laughing…and Vera, too. I turned and saw it was Robert Fullerton who’d tried to save me.”

“That’s awful.” Kay hid her grin under her hand.

“What’d you do then?” Micki asked, nudging Kay.

“I went home and took a quick shower. I wasn’t going to come back, but I’ve got the second shift on kitchen duty. Besides…I’m getting even with Walt for putting out duck food and enjoying those terrorist birds.”

“I think,” Micki bit her lower lip, “according to the Bible, you’re supposed to talk to Walt first, rather than attack.”

“I won’t hurt him.”

“She only attacks new members, like Robert Fullerton,” Kay said. “But you can’t blame Walt. Everyone in town comes here to feed the birds. They like seeing them nest in our bushes and waddle around the parking lot with their babies. It’s not Walt’s fault there’s a watershed pond next door.”

Lorena smiled, adding over her shoulder as she left, “Let me just say, the youth will have a successful fundraiser today.”

*

After a short prayer, plates were filled. Pastor Poe walked around, squirting whipped cream on top of pancakes and cups of hot chocolate. He requested a break in the music so there could be a round of applause for Vera and the volunteers, and he added how much he appreciated all that she did. Elke used the opportunity to fill a plate with griddlecakes, but shortly, the edges of the room were filled with children hopping to his accordion notes again.

The little ones dancing next to the coffee corner were offered bribes of extra whipped cream if they’d bring the teens food. The espresso business was so brisk the youth didn’t have a chance to eat. Micki’s daughter, recruiting latte orders table-by-table, was surprised that Walt had never had any “fancy-pants coffees.”

Lorena waved teen away. “I’ll take care of Walt.” She turned to the Property Manger. “I’ll get you a regular cup of ‘joe’. Do you put anything in it?”

In a few moments, she returned, placing his coffee in front of him. He took a sip, set it down, and stared at it. Dipping his fork into his cup, he lifted out wet feathers.

Lorena winked at him. “Since you like those birds so much, I thought you’d enjoy a drink with them.”

“I suppose I deserve this,” Walt nodded, “but Vera has a plan to save you. She’s—”

“I don’t need Vera to take over. I’ve already handled it myself. Have you ever tried to get duck doo out of a new blouse, Walt? It’s nasty-difficult.” She aimed a lethal stare at him and retreated to the kitchen.

*

Lorena slipped a bib apron over her head. “Hey, Allie. Fred. I’m here to relieve you. Sorry I’m late.”

“You okay after your attack?” Fred began untying his apron.

“Shitake mushrooms! Does everyone know?”

“Vera told us. Have a cup of tea.” Allie pointed to a mug. “I’d have done the same thing. They would’ve found my legs sticking out of the bushes.”

Fred slipped an arm around his wife, patting her stomach. “Good thing you’re stuck in the kitchen with me and missing the excitement.”

Lorena stared at them, watching Allie bow her head and put her hand on top of Fred’s. A smile started at the corner of Lorena’s mouth and spread to her eyes. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

The ladies washing dishes turned off the running water. Those pouring and serving juice turned around. Hettie, who’d been digging in the closet, peered out the door at Allie. “What’d you say?”

Allie cast a glance at Fred, murmuring, “I’m due in October.”

Voices burst out in congratulations. Lorena stuck her head through the kitchen door. “Elke. Stop squeezing that thing for a moment,” she yelled into the Fellowship Hall. “Hey everybody, enjoy those pancakes because the chef won’t be cooking for us for a while. She’s pregnant.”

There was a long moment while the church members stared at the empty doorway, waiting for someone to appear. A blushing Allie and embarrassed Fred stepped out to applause and cheers. “Happy Birthday” wheezed from the squeeze box because Elke couldn’t think of anything else to play.

*

“I hope they wanted that announced.” Kay wiped plates as she took them out of the dishwasher.

“It’s a baby.” Hettie glanced up from pouring syrup into plastic containers. “Why wouldn’t you tell everybody?”

“You’re just mad because I beat you to it.” Lorena flipped her dish towel at Kay. “That announcement is something
you
would’ve done.”

Kay paused, staring at the wall. If she hadn’t known Allie regretted this pregnancy, she would’ve done the same thing. Perhaps with more style, shouting it like a newsboy. How often had she acted without considering what other people wanted? How many times had she done it to her friends so everyone could laugh?

“Are you all right?” Hettie asked.

Kay searched the schoolteacher’s face. “Have I…ever…done things to hurt you?” She ducked her head. She’d often run over Hettie. The teacher was an easy target for a joke.

“Why, Kay,” Hettie grabbed her arm, “it’s all right.” A tiny gasp came from Kay’s throat before she could catch it. Hettie pulled her into a hug.

“What’s the matter?” whispered Micki, shutting off the faucet where she rinsed plates.

“Well, at least you’re not hiding in the bathroom with your emotions.” Lorena circled the counter, rested her hand on Kay’s shoulder, and patted her back. Nan joined them.

“Don’t leave me out.” Micki didn’t bother to dry her hands, encircling as many people as she could.

“Okay. I’m feeling weird here.” Kay tried to shrug free. “I realized that I joke about whatever pops into my mind. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Kay,” Hettie said, “that’s just you.”

“But I’m sorry for the pain. I don’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“You don’t hurt people on purpose.”

“Oh, back off! She needs absolution. She needs to hear it.” Nan grabbed Kay’s shoulders. “We forgive you, Kay. We love you and forgive you.” Then she pulled her into a hug. Micki was tearing up.

“Why are
you
crying?” Lorena asked Micki.

“I don’t know. It all feels so healing. Why’s Hettie crying?”

Vera appeared at the doorway, her head cocked, her eyebrows knitted as she assessed the teary-eyed group.

“Come on, Vera.” Micki waved. “We’re forgiving each other.”

Hesitating, she set her coffee cup on the counter, crossed the kitchen, and placed a hand on Micki’s arm.

Kay attempted to shrug free again. “Lutherans don’t do this. We’re not touchy-feely.”

“Then don’t tell anybody,” Hettie said. “Don’t be anyone but yourself, Kay. We love you just as you are.”

“That makes me want to be a better me.” A tear escaped from Kay’s eye. With a crooked smile, she wriggled her arm free, using a sleeve to wipe her cheek.

“It’s a group-hug-thing. Join us,” Micki announced to the youth director, who’d trailed into the kitchen. He took one look at the women, and left.

Vera made her exit too, but she paused at the doorway, looking back. Someone in the group had giggled. She watched the women break apart with laughter, wiping their faces with aprons and towels.

She took a deep breath, arranged her face to neutral, stepped into the dining room, and began picking up dirty plates. People didn’t realize how important it was to hug the single people in church—particularly the widows.

*

“Come on, Walt.” Kay and Lorena stood in the Fellowship Hall beside the two men sitting at the table. Kay jerked her head toward the espresso bar. “Let’s get a coffee.”

“Oh, I don’t drink that stuff. I promised Juan Valdez I’d buy only his pure Columbian beans.”

“Then help me carry them.” She pulled on his arm.

“Heavens, woman! Anyone with a grip like that doesn’t need help hefting a few cups of coffee.”

“Walt, come with me.” She smiled. “Please?” As they left, Lorena slid into his chair, next to Robert Fullerton.

The coffee line was short, and when they returned with drinks, Kay noted Lorena’s apology must have been short also because now they were chatting about his job. The group’s conversation continued in starts and stops. The only dialogue Walt contributed was holding up his latte every now and then and saying, “This isn’t half bad.”