John started jabbing an angry finger at the young, blond man looking down at him. The man was handsome but had a spoiled, sullen expression on his face. A cigarette dangled from his thick lips. We could hear the timbre of John’s shouting voice, but the lack of a good muffler caused the truck’s engine to drown out his exact words. The man laughed, his face contorting in a mocking sneer.
John Luther shook a fist at the man. With a screech the truck took off, leaving John in a cloud of black exhaustsmoke. He stood there breathing heavily, his fist still held up in the air.
I opened the door and joined him on the sidewalk. There was no way we could pretend something hadn’t happened, so I decided to just jump right in and ask about it.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
He turned to look at me, his eyes cold and angry, then just as quickly changed back to easygoing John Luther. “Fine,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Just a little problem we’ve been having with one of the local boys harassing Tara.” He glanced over at the cafe where the three men and Elvia had wisely moved away from the window.
“My gosh, the last time I saw Tara she was seven years old. Time sure has flown.”
“Tell me about it.” He gave another angry glance down the street though the truck was long gone.
“Excuse me for being nosy, but who was that hassling her? An old boyfriend?” I felt sorry for young girls these days. Dating was certainly different now than it was when I was in my teens. So many relationships included violence, and it seemed it was starting at younger and younger ages.
“Not by a long shot. Just some joker she dated once. He . . .” John Luther stopped. “I don’t really want to go into it. He’s just one of those jerks who can’t believe someone would say no to him. But then, what do you expect? He’s a Hunter.”
“As in Grady Hunter, the mayor?”
“The one and only. That’s his son, Toby. A walking advertisement for the benefit of vasectomies, if you ask me.” He wiped his hands on his stained white apron. “Well, the show’s over for today.” He gave me a wry smile. “Welcome home, Benni Harper.”
I scratched the side of my neck, not certain if I should smile back. “You’re not the first person to say that to me.”
“I’d better get back inside and start preparations forlunch. Come back when there’s not so much turmoil, and I’ll make you and your friend a real Arkansas stick-to-your-ribs breakfast feast.”
“You got it, John Luther.”
Elvia questioned me as we walked down the street. “What was that all about?”
“Something between his daughter, Tara, and that boy who is apparently Grady Hunter’s son.”
She shook her head. “Grady Hunter? Refresh my memory, amiga .”
“He’s the incumbent mayor and Amen’s rival. He owns half the town and is a very respected deacon at Sugartree Baptist. He’s also, from what Dove told me, the head of the group that’s against the churches merging.”
“Looks like his son is every minority’s nightmare,” she said.
“Like father, like son, I guess. There’s a lot of good and decent people in this town, but some real jerks, too. Like everywhere, I guess.”
We spent another hour or so walking around the town, but by lunchtime I grew tired of greeting old acquaintances, and we decided to retreat to Aunt Garnet’s cool and comfortable front porch.
“We’ll do the infamous Dairy Queen and Dandy’s Five and Dime another day,” I promised.
Back at Aunt Garnet’s we found an empty house.
“Everyone must be out doing their part to get ready for the coming festivities,” I said, bringing in the jar of sun tea sitting in the front yard. In the kitchen, there was a note from Dove . . . and Garnet.
“Sandwiches in the refrigerator, girls,” Dove’s note said. “I made your favorite tuna salad. Here’s a list of the week’s activities.” Her neat, blunt printing
John Luther shook a fist at the man. With a screech the truck took off, leaving John in a cloud of black exhaustsmoke. He stood there breathing heavily, his fist still held up in the air.
I opened the door and joined him on the sidewalk. There was no way we could pretend something hadn’t happened, so I decided to just jump right in and ask about it.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
He turned to look at me, his eyes cold and angry, then just as quickly changed back to easygoing John Luther. “Fine,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Just a little problem we’ve been having with one of the local boys harassing Tara.” He glanced over at the cafe where the three men and Elvia had wisely moved away from the window.
“My gosh, the last time I saw Tara she was seven years old. Time sure has flown.”
“Tell me about it.” He gave another angry glance down the street though the truck was long gone.
“Excuse me for being nosy, but who was that hassling her? An old boyfriend?” I felt sorry for young girls these days. Dating was certainly different now than it was when I was in my teens. So many relationships included violence, and it seemed it was starting at younger and younger ages.
“Not by a long shot. Just some joker she dated once. He . . .” John Luther stopped. “I don’t really want to go into it. He’s just one of those jerks who can’t believe someone would say no to him. But then, what do you expect? He’s a Hunter.”
“As in Grady Hunter, the mayor?”
“The one and only. That’s his son, Toby. A walking advertisement for the benefit of vasectomies, if you ask me.” He wiped his hands on his stained white apron. “Well, the show’s over for today.” He gave me a wry smile. “Welcome home, Benni Harper.”
I scratched the side of my neck, not certain if I should smile back. “You’re not the first person to say that to me.”
“I’d better get back inside and start preparations forlunch. Come back when there’s not so much turmoil, and I’ll make you and your friend a real Arkansas stick-to-your-ribs breakfast feast.”
“You got it, John Luther.”
Elvia questioned me as we walked down the street. “What was that all about?”
“Something between his daughter, Tara, and that boy who is apparently Grady Hunter’s son.”
She shook her head. “Grady Hunter? Refresh my memory, amiga .”
“He’s the incumbent mayor and Amen’s rival. He owns half the town and is a very respected deacon at Sugartree Baptist. He’s also, from what Dove told me, the head of the group that’s against the churches merging.”
“Looks like his son is every minority’s nightmare,” she said.
“Like father, like son, I guess. There’s a lot of good and decent people in this town, but some real jerks, too. Like everywhere, I guess.”
We spent another hour or so walking around the town, but by lunchtime I grew tired of greeting old acquaintances, and we decided to retreat to Aunt Garnet’s cool and comfortable front porch.
“We’ll do the infamous Dairy Queen and Dandy’s Five and Dime another day,” I promised.
Back at Aunt Garnet’s we found an empty house.
“Everyone must be out doing their part to get ready for the coming festivities,” I said, bringing in the jar of sun tea sitting in the front yard. In the kitchen, there was a note from Dove . . . and Garnet.
“Sandwiches in the refrigerator, girls,” Dove’s note said. “I made your favorite tuna salad. Here’s a list of the week’s activities.” Her neat, blunt printing
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