Page 40 of The Party Line

“A teacher, maybe kindergarten or first grade,” she said. “I taught all my little brothers and sisters to read and do a little math before they even started to school. But that’s just a pipe dream.”

“Yes, I can use some help with the housework and the yard.” I hoped that I wasn’t being impulsive again. But it felt like something Gracie might have done. “I’ll pay you minimum wage, which is what you are getting at the café, right? And you can live here—free room and board should make up for the tips,” I said. “It’s a big house with fourbedrooms, and I’m rattling around in it all day by myself. You won’t have rent or a food bill.”

“Are you serious?” Gina Lou asked.

“Yes, I am,” I replied. “When can you start?”

“I can move in and start work on Saturday. My rent comes due the fifteenth, so that will work out great,” she said. “I won’t have a lot to move. The travel trailer that I’ve been renting is furnished.”

“If you’ve got more than what will fit in your bedroom, there’s room in the garage to store the rest of your things,” I said. “Jasper, do you reckon the pepper spray has settled enough that we can go get that pizza and beer?”

“Yep, and I’m hungry. I hope it’s meat lovers,” Jasper said.

“A heart attack in a flat box, if it is,” I teased.

“Bring it on,” Jasper declared. “Sooner I get the business of dying over with, the sooner I get to see Davis and Gracie.”

“You might have to ask forgiveness for spraying those guys tonight,” I threw over my shoulder as I stood up and jogged across the yard.

“God told me it wasn’t a sin,” Jasper argued. “I asked Him if I should bring the pepper spray or the shotgun out to get rid of those varmints. He said the shotgun wasn’t loaded, but the spray was ready to go.”

At his age he might possibly have a hotline to heaven, so I didn’t argue. I picked up the large pizza and six-pack of beer and carried them over to his porch. I wiped the dust off the stump that was our table and set the pizza on it, passed out a bottle of beer to each of us, and then took my seat.

“Since you have a one-on-one working relationship with God, maybe you better say grace,” I joked.

He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and said, “For this food, we are thankful, Father. Bless it as you see fit. Amen.”

“That was short and sweet,” I said.

“God don’t expect us to give thanks for the green grass, the blue sky, and the crickets,” Jasper huffed as he picked up a slice of pizza. “Hejust wants us to remember to be grateful. It ain’t meat lovers, but I like sausage and bacon almost as good.”

“I’m so happy that ...” Gina Lou’s eyes filled with tears. “There are no words. Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Gracie should’ve hired a housekeeper years ago, but she ...” Jasper stopped midsentence and bit into his pizza.

“She what?” I asked.

“She was too independent for her own good.”

He almost gave away a secret. Maybe not the big one, but there was a reason Gracie wouldn’t hire someone to help her. It had to be connected to that time she had been told she could attend a party, but Davis and Jasper could only show up if they agreed to be the help. If I was right, she probably didn’t want to make anyone feel like her friends did that evening. I still wanted to help Gina Lou—maybe it was easier for me because I hadn’t lived here for a long time.

“Thank youseems like so little, but it’s all I’ve got,” Gina Lou said. “I liked Miz Gracie. She was always nice to me when she came in to pick up takeout on Sundays after church.”

“We didn’t do that very often because Gracie liked to give Madge our business since Sarah worked there,” Jasper said.

My mind drifted back to the first sympathy card I had opened—the one that the retired teacher had written, about being so grateful to Aunt Gracie for helping her get through college.

The breeze picked up, and the new mint green leaves on the trees seemed to dance around like graceful ballerinas. If I had been superstitious like my mother, I would have been absolutely sure that Aunt Gracie’s voice was a sign.

Pay it forward.

Fall classes didn’t start until the end of August or first of September. By then I should know Gina Lou well enough to figure out if she was serious about becoming a teacher. If so, I could easily pay for her education, and depending on what path the rest of her siblings wanted to take, that might be something to think about, too.

“So, of the six kids still at home,” I asked, “how many are brothers?”

“The baby, Jesse, is eleven. I have five sisters scattered out over twelve years. The next one below me is eighteen and graduates in May. Then Mama had four more in the next seven years before she got her boy. They’re all real smart.” Gina Lou finished her slice of pizza and polished off her beer. “I should be going. I want to go by Annie’s and tell her not to worry about me, that I’ve found a job.”

“See you on Saturday, then?” I asked.

---