The Front Porch Prophet

The last of Maggie’s sisters to arrive was Jacqueline Susann Stewart. A.J. called her The Apostate, because she had broken doctrine by not naming her children after authors. She and her husband Geoffery had named their large brood Glen, Peter, Carol, Russell, and Zachary, or Zack for short. The name for the imminent sixth child had not yet been determined. Interspersed among the entrances of Maggie’s sisters and their families were the arrivals of the other guests. Estelle came over for breakfast wearing her pink flannel robe and furry slippers. She bore a huge lime Jell-O mold infused with chunks of carrots, celery, cheddar cheese, and bell pepper. She had outdone herself, and as A.J. accepted the offering, he was forced to concede the Indian pudding hadn’t been that bad, after all.

“Estelle, you shouldn’t have,” he said, meaning every word.

“Better get that in the icebox,” noted Estelle as she loaded scrambled eggs onto her plate. “We don’t want it to get too warm.”

“No, that’s for sure,” he agreed as he slid it way in the back of the refrigerator, out of sight but not quite out of mind.

More guests arrived throughout the morning and early afternoon. Doc Miller and Minnie whisked in with a bottle of fifty-year-old brandy and a vegetable tray. Minnie had made certain the assortment contained white radishes, which were one of A.J.’s favorites when served with a little salt. Hoghead landed with twenty pounds of Swedish meatballs, each a small study in Hong Kong tastiness. He was accompanied by Dixie Lanier, drive-in patron and recent divorcée after her husband, Pitt, accidentally shot her in the head through the side of the trailer while squirrel hunting. Pitt had been truly sorry over the incident and had begged Dixie for forgiveness, but the twenty-two slug buried just behind her right ear was not a transgression she could pardon. So she cut Pitt loose and sent him back to his mama’s house to hunt squirrels. Dixie and Hoghead seemed to make a nice couple, and since the old cook was not a hunter, maybe the relationship would blossom.

The Folly filled as other visitors wandered in. Slim Neal came bearing deviled eggs, and in recognition of the general gaiety of the day, he had left his sidearm in the cruiser. Jackie came with Bernice Martin on one arm and a sweet potato casserole on the other, and A.J. was touched to learn he had turned down double-time-and-a-half to come to the revelries. Charnell Jackson was there with his German chocolate cake, and Ellis Simpson arrived with Raynell, the children, and four bowls of potato salad. Brickhead and Cyndi Crowe arrived with their brood and with Cyndi’s famed baked beans. Billy from the Chevron came. He was no one’s idea of a cook, so he brought several cases of cold drinks, belly-washers for the children, as he put it.

Bird Egg showed up, and when A.J. saw the old retainer, he had to take double. Bird was scrubbed clean. He was shaven and barbered, and he appeared to be sober, although he smelled quite strongly of mouthwash. He was wearing a suit, mostly, and the fact that it looked like it had been excavated at the boneyard did not detract in the least from the gesture.

“Bird, you look sharp,” A.J. complimented. The sleeves of his suit coat stopped about two inches above his bony wrists. “You must be here looking for women.” Bird Egg produced a hangdog grin and stared at the floor, shuffling a bit, looking shy. A.J. made a mental note to steer him clear of the opposite sex, lest misunderstandings occur. “Who’s watching the beer joint?” A.J. asked.

“Eugene and Wormy stopped by awhile ago. Told me to shut ’er down and take the day off.”

“A day off with pay?” A.J. quizzed. “That’s like having benefits. Next you’ll be going on the insurance plan and signing up for the 401K.” Bird Egg guffawed before wandering off in the general direction of the Swedish meatballs.

Diane arrived with her boys, Cody and Ransom. Truth was conspicuous by her absence, but A.J. suspected that his luck would not hold. The boys were subdued, which was understandable given the circumstances surrounding their father, but they seemed to forget their troubles as they joined in play with the other youngsters. A.J. had talked to his older two about being particularly nice to the Purdue boys, and why, and the girls had taken a solemn vow to see to it that they had a good day. As the children all went off to romp, A.J. sidled up next to Diane.

“I sort of figured you’d be coming with Truth,” he ventured, hoping something had come up. Sometimes things just worked out, and maybe this was one of those times.

“She’ll be along in a while,” Diane said. She seemed to be in good spirits. A.J. sighed before broaching a delicate subject.

“Your ex-husband may be coming,” he began, wishing he had thought to soften her up with some Swedish meatballs before venturing into the minefield.

“It was nice of you to invite him,” she said cheerfully, missing the entire point.