CHAPTER 2: It Happened On The Way

It Happened On The Way

Jeremiah Sothesby was a bit of an enigma to the citizens of Magnolia Junction. Bright, educated and fastidiously well bred, it was generally considered a waste that Jeremiah had managed to stay in town. His love for Sarah and his respect and devotion to Harrison, Sarah’s father, were the most obvious reasons. But a man with Jeremiah’s background could have had an outstanding career. No one in town would have blamed him for leaving. There was no way Jeremiah could rise to the prominence that befitted him living in a rural place like Magnolia Junction.

When Jeremiah spoke, people listened. His education in law as well as having been brought up in a home where debate and the law were topics of constant conversation, had made him articulate, cunning and impossible to outwit. Jeremiah had only recently become Mayor of Magnolia Junction when Pap Murphy had retired. Pap had been mayor for as long as just about anyone, with the exception of Freeman Gottschalk, could remember. A loveable fellow, one who knew the stories of everyone in town, he mostly was kept on because he had so much on every living citizen and a bunch dead. His knowledge of the backgrounds of the people in town was kin to a historian. But if you called him that, he would just chuckle and tell you that he had a photographic memory and had penchant for reading the newspaper (both of them) every day. Of course, by this time, everyone who had every set foot in Magnolia Junction had been the topic of a story, mostly front page, at some time or other. That’s how Jimmy Franklin’s hit and run had made the front page. It didn’t have to be a slow news day to make the front page. You just had to have been old news for at least a year.

Jeremiah had rescued Sarah from what could have been the life-long care of the O’Donnell household. After Francis left, when Emily had entered first grade, Sarah, then 17, had become the duly appointed matriarch, much to the delight of the boys whe never could get away with anything while Francis was there. Sarah was a much kinder and less demanding mother figure, though each of the children respected Francis for the sacrifice she had made. Sarah never would let the children complain about Francis. However, laughing about her curious ways was fair game, and became some of the most hilarious conversations in the O’Donnell household. Harrison wasn’t much for laughter, but even he had cracked a smile on occasion as the children had recited things that Francis said and recounted the curious things she had done in the course of any given day.

Had it not been for Francis, Sarah would have never met Jeremiah. On the day of the parade, commencing the Perilous Disaster Festival, Sarah had been called upon to work the kitchen at the Café. Sarah usually served as waitress, hostess and general keep the customers happy person. But on this day, everyone in town had either come in for barbecue or had ordered some to take home. The café was buzzing with activity. Francis had agreed to work the tables and Sarah had donned an oversized cook’s apron to assist with making more prize winning sauce.

It was hot that day. It was one of those crazy May days in the south, when the temperature catches the coattails of summer and gets drug into the 90’s. The thermometer in the kitchen had registered 99 degrees Fahrenheit when Sarah had happened to glance up. Her tiny face and mahogany hair glistened. Sarah continuously wiped her brow with the bottom of her apron, just to keep things sanitary. Her face was streaked with the crimson sauce that had splashed on the apron as she stirred the iron pot. Harrison swore by that old iron pot. But it put off heat like a pot-bellied stove, and on this particular May day, heat was not in demand. Sarah had just gone out back to catch her breath, when Jeremiah entered the café.

Harrison, the connoisseur of the barbeque and protector of the ribs greeted Sarah as she exited the back door. “Hot in there,” he said, as if there were a doubt. “It’s almost unbearable,” Sarah lamented. “But I’ve got some swell sauce almost done,” she bragged. “That’s my girl.” “We’ve had customers since breakfast, askin’ for ribs and lots of sauce. You’re success is going kill me,” she teased. “My success has kept you younguns in clothes, young lady,” he chided. “Yes, and Emily Sue is begging for that yellow dress that has been in Miss Molly’s window since Easter. She didn’t get it for Easter, and she wasn’t happy about that. She does look cute in yellow. Remember that little yellow dotted swiss I made her last year? She wore it last Easter.” “Yep.” “Francis bought her them shoes. Remember?” “She looks like your mother.” Sarah stopped to let the words sink in. Her heart still hurt, every time she allowed herself to think about it. Emily did have all of Hannah’s features. Her olive skin, her trademark, blue eyes seem even bluer.

Sarah missed her mother. Being the first born and the only girl, until Emily, Hannah and Sarah had bonded from the beginning. Their relationship went beyond the usual. Hannah was only 16, when she and Harrison got married and Sarah was born 4 months after Harrison left for Europe. Hannah hadn’t even realized she was pregnant, and when she finally realized that something strange was taking place in her body, her beloved husband was in the midst of a world war and she was all alone with this new life growing inside her. Hannah loved Sarah before she ever laid her eyes on her, and cherished this new love that shielded her from the deep loneliness she had felt when Harrison had left. Hannah had felt abandoned, just like she had been abandoned by her father early on. Sarah was hers to keep and Hannah didn’t left her out of her sight for the first four years of her life. Where you saw Hannah, you saw Sarah.

Turns out, it was mighty providential, because Sarah grew up fast. Without siblings and her father away, Sarah found herself with adults, mostly. Sarah accompanied her mother to every quilting party, church supper, political rally and town hall meeting. She became adept at all the things that Hannah loved, including sewing. Hannah had made all of her clothes as a child. It’s all she had. She had used Ethel Murphy’s Singer to do all her sewing. The Singer was a hand-me-down from Ethel’s aunt. Ethel couldn’t sew and was perfectly happy with Hannah bringing it out from the cobwebs in the attic.