The club met at Ethel Kerrin’s house on the first Tuesday of July in 2019, just as they had for the past 40 odd years. The club, at one point, had consisted of more than twenty members, but since 1989 there had been only six. They laid knit tablecloths over the picnic tables which sat under the old magnolia in Ethel’s front yard. The tables had been replaced a half dozen times from wear and age. The weather and shed of the towering magnolia aged the tables in ways that made them seem ancient and otherworldly in the haze of the humid Summer morning. Ethel and the other women laid out two pots of fresh brewed coffee before everyone began taking their typical seats at their typical tables in their typical ways.
“Coffee everybody?” Ethel asked as she passed out the cups. Her white hair was beauty parlor-fixed, and her eyes watched the others for nods as she passed out the fresh brew. All the other women took their coffee with wide smiles as they chatted away, the early morning light casting a gentle shine onto the dew-kissed grass.
“Been staying busy, Ethel?” asked Janice Twelt. Janice was a thin, blue haired woman of 83 who was, at the moment, the club’s oldest living member. She took a slow sip of her coffee and then blotted at her lips with a napkin from the center of the table. Her hands shook a little as she did it, but it was the only sign of frailty she carried.
Ethel grinned and continued pouring the coffee for the others, steam rising out of the cups as the Summer air hung heavy over them. “Oh, busy enough. Jackson is about to drive me up the wall cooped up in the house all the time. I’ll be glad when that boy goes back to school. I’ll tell you those dorm fees cost me an arm and a leg, but it’s good not having him in the house all the time.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” said another of the women sitting at the second table. Her hair still held its red color, but the lines on her face showed her age. “I was so sorry to hear about Mathew dying in that wreck. Someone ran right out in front of him didn’t they?”
Ethel nodded. “Nothing to be sorry about. He’s with Jesus now and that ain’t nothing to be sorry about.” A muttered agreement of “amens” and “God blesses” came from the women. As Ethel finished pouring the coffee, she came to stand at the head of one of two tables and cleared her throat. Her thin frame shifted as she pulled a small pad of paper from her purse and then sat the purse on the table with a careful hand.
“Now I’d like to call this meeting of the Covington County Garden Club to order. I have nothing on the table for old business, but before we move on to the new business does anybody have anything to talk on?” Collective silence and head shakes came from the women. “Alright then, new business coming to order. All dues are up today, so, Hattie, if you’ll pass around your hat and collect the money, I’d appreciate it. You can go ahead and get mine out of my purse.” As Hattie Lee Thomas, Ethel’s oldest and closest friend, began collecting the dues of the various members in her old sun hat, Ethel continued on. “It is also important to note that next month is the club’s 64th anniversary, so we should all be thinking today about how we want to celebrate it. Next month is also Janice’s birthday, so we’ll probably do a little something for that too.” Janice smiled and looked around the group at that, and the other members returned her tight, formal expression and nodded. “Does anybody have anything else they need to say?” Ethel asked as she closed the notepad. A collective wave of nays came from the women. “Then, let the monthly social meeting of the Covington County Garden Club commence.”
She put the note pad back into her purse and took her seat at one of the picnic tables. The women began to chatter away about a half dozen different things, and the sound of half-forced, caddy laughter filled the warm air. A light breeze blew through the magnolia tree, and piles of dead leaves scuttered on the ground. Noticing this, Julie May Lewis took a sip of her coffee and blotted at her mouth with a paper napkin before resting her cup on top of it.
“Ethel,” said Julie May as she took careful survey of the yard that surrounded the old farmhouse. The grass was tall and seeding, and leaves from the fall still peppered the yard. “I thought you had a little black boy that came and did the yard for you?” Judgment dripped from her voice, and her hands lay flat and tired in her lap.
Ethel’s throat tightened and she shifted in her seat. She started to speak, but another of the women, Sarah Tate Lawson, chimed in. “He was that fella from Collins’ boy, wasn’t he? You know the one who has the colored hair place in town across from the discount grocer.”
Ethel sat her coffee down and shifted again. Her finger tapped at the side of her leg underneath the table in nervous, rhythmic patterns. “Jim Booth,” she said. “Jim Booth has the barber shop on South Fir. His son Jamal takes care of my yard, and his daughter is Jane’s caretaker.”
Julie’s face twisted up in a thin veil of disgust. “Boy don’t seem to be doing too good of a job here, Ethel.” Her eyes scanned the house and noted the green haze and yellow pollen that peppered the white wood skirting of the house. “House could use some washing too. Your daylilies is the only thing looking any good and that’s our work, not his.”
“Julie May,” said Lucelle Davis-Letwell, a small, thin woman sitting across from Ethel, “why don’t you worry about your own yard. Last time I visited you there were enough oak leaves to smother a horse.” A clamor of cackled laughter came from some of the women. Ethel watched her coffee and took a drink while Julie May’s face filled up with shock and disdain.
“My yard and house may be in a bit of disrepair, but I can say with positivity that it’s because my husband is a bum, not because I can’t control my nigger.” The hate in her voice was clear, and the flushed nature of her face showed just how irritated she had become. If her age hadn’t prevented it, she might have stood up and paced as she carried on. “You know in the 60s our menfolk had ways of dealing with these problems, as much as a bunch of us like to pretend we didn’t.” She thumped a wrinkled knuckle onto the wood table and smirked.
“Alright now,” said Hattie Lee, “y’all quit messing with Julie before we give her a stroke.” She glanced at Ethel, who was avoiding eye contact with the rest of the group. “Ethel, how’s Jackson doing in school?”
Ethel perked up and grinned a wide, appreciative grin and tapped at the side of her coffee cup with a perfect, painted nail. “Oh, he is doing just fine. He’s going to school for music. Don’t think I’ve heard anybody play that pretty since Nathan passed away.” Her eyes drifted to a thoughtful place, and a bittersweet sweet look spread over her face. Hattie nodded and watched Ethel’s eyes.
“Oh lord,” said Janice, “I always did love Nathan. He was such a handsome man and could play that piano like an angel.”
Ethel started to speak again, but the sound of crunching gravel from the driveway stole everyone’s attention, and they watched as a white Econoline van stained with the yellow dusting of pine pollen pulled up to the house. Ethel wiped her mouth with a paper napkin and stood up from the picnic table, straightening her dress in the process. “Excuse me everyone, that’ll be Terry here for Jane.” Ethel walked over and met the middle-aged, black woman at the door. She held the door open as Terry walked through, carrying two large duffle bags of supplies.
“How’s she been?” Terry asked as she sat her bags down on the couch in the living room. The heavy smell of cloves and cinnamon hung in the air as they emanated from a miniature crock on the kitchen counter. Terry began taking the physical therapy equipment and setting it on the coffee table as mumbled, unintelligible speech came from the den. “She eating good?”
“Oh yeah,” said Ethel as she walked to the kitchen and gathered up a plate of watermelon and pound cake meant for the party. “She’s been eating fine. Doing good all-around when she’s not fighting with Jackson about something.” She turned around to face Terry through the gap between the cabinets and the counter top. “Oh lord, I didn’t even ask you if you wanted any coffee, Terry.”
“That’s alright.” said Terry, a kind smile on her face. “I know where it is if I decide I need any.”
“Your daddy been doing okay?” asked Ethel. She shifted the plate of watermelon and cake in her hands.
“He’s doing fine. Been staying busy at the Barber Shop. You and yours okay?”
Ethel gave a slight grin and sat the platter back down on the counter beside her. she crossed her arms and let out a thoughtful sigh. “Doing good. Got another week or so before Jackson goes back to school. Lord knows he’s driving me crazy. Jamal doing all right?”
“Oh he’s doing fine. Playing baseball this summer and aggravating his daddy.” Terry pulled the last of her equipment and then sat the bags on the floor and stretched out her back. “Well, I’m gonna’ go ahead and get started with Jane here in just a minute so you get back to your club, Miss Kerrin.”
Ethel picked up the platter of watermelon and pound cake and smiled at Terry. “Alright, Honey. Your money’s in an envelope on the counter.” Terry nodded and smiled back, and at that Ethel walked back to the meeting. The conversation had died down, but the women still chattered away about the goings on in the county and their families. Rarely, the conversation turned to flower tending or raising daylilies, but when it did it did so for only the briefest of moments. Ethel sat the plate on the table and pulled the foil off the top. She folded it into a neat square and placed it in her dress pocket before clearing her throat as she sat back down. “Alright everyone, here are a few treats! What did I miss?”
Hattie Lee picked up a slice of pound cake and grinned as the other women chuckled. “We were just talking about how messy things have gotten here in the county.”
Ethel rolled her eyes and slapped her hands down onto the table. Genuine happiness showed up on her face for the first time that day. “Lord, you aren’t telling me anything I don’t know! Did y’all know that they are talking about consolidating all the schools out there?” Ethel poured herself a cup of coffee and noticed that her cup would be the last of the two pots she had brought out at the start of the meeting.
Sarah Lawson let out an exasperated sigh. “Good lord, that’s awful. Just tears apart the whole idea of the individual towns. It was bad enough when they brought all the blacks down from Hopewell and stuck them in Seminary. Near about ruined that place.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinkin’!” said Ethel. “Now all those kids they brung down from Hopewell weren’t bad, but you got to know they didn’t want to be bussed all the way down there to Seminary. Just a big mess, the whole bunch of it, and that ain’t the only problem Covington County has, I’ll tell you that much.” She adjusted and leaned forward to get a piece of watermelon from the platter.
Julie May finished off her cup of coffee and put the cup back towards the center of the table. “Only place in the state more corrupt than Jackson. That’s what my husband always says, anyway.”
Ethel chuckled. “That does sound just about right.”
The women continued on talking and laughing about the state of their home. They talked about the corruption and deaths of old politicians from their youth, and they talked about how different things were in the sixties and seventies. Ethel and her club members chattered away about their lives as the summer air hung around them like a curtain. But these conversations were short lived, as before long the aging club began to feel the stresses of the oppressive summer air. Ethel looked around at the tiring members and smiled a soft, understanding smile. She pulled the notebook from her purse again and stood back up. “Well,” she said after flipping to the third page, “it seems like everyone is about tired of this heat. Does anyone have any closing statements to make before I get started wrapping this thing up?”
Julie May raised her hand and stood up and rubbed the front of her hand stitched dress down flat.
“Julie May, go right ahead,” said Ethel as she shifted her grip on the notepad.
“I would like to make the movement to hold next month’s meeting at the Seminary Community Center and hold a benefit for the local SCV. The Sons have done a lot for this community, and I think we’d all be right to give back.”
Ethel thought for a moment and gauged the reactions of the other women. As she saw them all nod and mutter vague agreements, she nodded and jotted down a note on the pad. “No opposition met from the president. All in favor?”
A collective announcement of “yay” came from the group.
“Then, as President of the Covington County Garden Club, I call this meeting closed. Any other business not discussed today must be postponed until next month’s meeting.” Ethel closed her book and slipped it back into her purse. She started stacking the coffee cups, and Hattie Lee came over to help as the others packed up their belongings.
Hattie Lee began to speak, but as she noticed the haggard look on Ethel’s face, she remained silent. She gathered up what coffee cups Ethel could not carry and grabbed the coffee pot as they both headed inside. Terry was in the living room working with Jane, who had been lifted out of her electric wheelchair and rested on the floor. Ethel seemed to not even pay Terry or her daughter any attention and walked straight to the kitchen with Hattie Lee following close behind. They both set the cups down in the sink and Hattie Lee rested the old drip-maker coffee pot down on the counter.
After they put the dishes in the sink, Hattie Lee followed Ethel to the front door and cleared her throat as they came to a stop. From outside, the crunch of gravel and whirring engines whispered through the heavy oak door. “Lack luster meeting wasn’t it? I swear they get shorter every month.”
Ethel gave a somber smile and nodded as they both looked through the window at the cars of old women as they made their ways home. Hattie Lee watched Ethel from her peripheral as Julie May, the last one as always, crawled into her ancient Mercury and drove away at a creep.
Hattie turned to Ethel and smiled. “Well, I guess I’m gonna’ go ahead and get home too, gotta get lunch on for Randy and all. You call me if you need anything.”
“Thank you for your help, Hattie. See you for Bridge next Saturday.”
Hattie and Ethel shared a tired hug and walked out of the front door just as Terry came into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Ethel’s daughter Jane sat in her wheelchair eating lunch in the living room.
“Mrs. Ethel, once Jane finishes up her lunch, I’m going to give her a shower then I’ll be done up for the day.” said Terry. She was clutching a fresh cup of black coffee.
“Thank you dear.” said Ethel. She walked into the living room and sat down in an ancient, red armchair that had been in her old farmhouse for fifty years, its mahogany accents scratched and mistreated from decades of use.
Terry sat down on the couch, a much newer thing from the early eighties, across from her. “Garden club meeting ran real short today, didn’t it?”
“We’re all getting old. Can’t anybody hold a conversation for more than thirty minutes, it don’t seem.” Ethel gave a soft grin that, to Terry, spoke of relief that her one-time-friends were gone. “Not to mention I’ve about gotten tired of some of them. Especially that old crow Julie May Beard.
Terry gave a laugh, and the wrinkles of her face disappeared behind her smile. “Lord knows that woman ain’t never said a word that didn’t make me want to whack her with something.” Terry took a drink of her coffee and let out a tired breath. “Mrs. Ethel, I talked to Daddy earlier today and I’m supposed to be going over there and cooking supper for him. My brother’ll be there too, and Daddy told me to make sure I invited you.”
Ethel adjusted in her seat and let out a sigh. “Oh honey, I don’t know, I’ve gotta cook supper for Jackson tonight.”
“Ain’t he about twenty-three now?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll let you think it over while I give Jane a shower. Daddy sure would like to see you.”
Sitting in her armchair, Ethel looked out the big bay windows that hung over her rolltop desk, another piece of furniture that had existed in the same spot of that living room since she met Nathan. Her mind began to wander as she heard the sound of groaning metal from Jane’s chair and the rush of water from the bathroom. As she sat there, the sound of the water faded into a soft drone in the back of her mind. She thought of her first husband Paul and how much she had loved and hated him. How his soft voice could turn so hateful so fast. She thought of her oldest grandson Mathew and how she couldn’t believe he was gone. She thought of Mathew and Jackson’s dad Toby and how long it’d been since she’d seen him, even though it was for the best. Then she thought of Jim and how she met him at the 601 Cafe over a cup of coffee. How they made one another smile. How she had felt light and alive for the first time in a long time. And she thought about how much the garden club had begun to run counter to her life. She thought about the Confederate flag and Julie May and hate and how much she regretted it. But behind it all, she thought of Jim, and how she missed him. She began to smile, still sitting in the chair, as she daydreamed of what could’ve been. She thought of her life if they had met at a different time, in a different place with different prejudices. Before she knew it, Terry was calling her name from the kitchen. She shook away the day dreams, stood up from the chair, and walked over.
Terry washed her hands and turned around to face Ethel, who stood with an arm resting on the counter top, a far off smile echoing in her eyes. “So, you made up your mind?”
Ethel grinned and for a moment Terry thought she saw a hint of blush come from underneath the thick, beauty parlor make-up. “Let me call Jackson and let him know I’ll be gone this evening. I’ll be at Jim’s by four.”
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