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 Tales of Whisper GapStories from the small town of Whisper Gap where one life, one tale invariably reaches out to touch the next. by Jo Janoski.
"Supposed to get colder and colder all day," Rock commented. "I read it in that paper before we burned it." His massive hands rubbed together over the pyre with short, abrupt motions. Muscular arms propelled the movement while his huge body strained to stay in a crouching position. As if to prove him right, the rain proceeded to pound harder on the bridge above, as the water transformed to a disagreeable sleet, stronger, sassier than simple rain. Millie wrapped a hole-ridden blanket tighter around her tiny torso. Her wrinkled hands rubbed skinny arms to warm them, next pulling a filthy knit cap down over her ears. "I'm hungry. My sweet tooth is driving me crazy." Rock shot her a worried glance. He didn't have the courage to admit it, but the little lady reminded him of his grandmother. She never said why she was homeless, but they'd taken her in and given her a safe haven. Millie remained a source of amusement and cheer in their little group. Sam, the other fellow, laid down the tattered book he was reading, his face illuminated with an idea. "Is today Sunday? There's a bake sale at St. Anthony's." Rock kicked the burning embers to reveal the last untouched news pages. He squinted to read the charred pieces, scanning for a headline. "Yeah. It's Sunday!" "Let's go," Millie said.
St. Anthony's, with spires reaching to heaven, had served the locals for generations. Without fail, every fourth Sunday, the Ladies' Auxiliary filled the basement with sugary aromas delightfully mixing with the yeasty smell of freshly baked bread. The trio paused in the doorway to take it all in. "Pies! I see pies" Millie murmured. "Yeah, and sticky buns...and, oh my gosh! Chocolate cake!" Rock's nostrils flared in anticipation. "Hey, you two! Calm down. We've got to formulate a plan," Sam said. The truth was they had no money. They never had money. Furthermore, they were never welcome among clean, well-dressed, "polite" people, who generally regarded the trio with disdain. In fact, Sam wondered if, at any moment, someone would kick them out of the doorway and tell them to go away. Oh well, he'd think of something. He wasn't valedictorian of his high school class for nothing; he had brains! He guided the others back out to the alley. "What'll we do?" Rock asked, impatient for the goodies. For as big a fellow as he was, Rock was a follower, not a leader. Under all that muscle, a cowardly heart beat in worried thumps, facing life in daily trepidation. That was probably why Millie, with her soothing and encouraging ways, was so precious to him. "I want some pie!" Millie said. "And you shall have it," Sam replied, stroking his chin as his mind whirred. "Let's see. Last time we begged outright, and they gave us a pie, but told us to get lost, right?" "Right," Rock replied. "And they'll probably recognize us again today." "Yeah." "Yeah, they'll definitely remember the three of us, but maybe just one could go in and beg for a pie." Sam shot Millie a pensive glance. "The one of us who is the cutest...the one they're most likely to respond to." "Why me?" Millie squealed like an angry cat. "Like I said, Millie. You're cute. They'll like you. If one of us guys goes, they'll ask why we don't have jobs. It'll get messy." "Jobs!" Rock chimed in with horror. Millie paused to think about it. Pies, apple pie, raisin pie, pecan....pies! "Okay, I'll go," she murmured "We'll wait outside where they can't see us," Sam replied. "Could you snag me a cake?" Rock asked. Sam shot him an impatient glance while Millie ignored the big man. She made her way into the hall with tiny steps, heading straightaway to the pastries. Apple pie with cinnamon sugar sprinkled on top, pumpkin, even berry pie--wonderful delicacies--it took Millie's breath away. She shot the clerk her most endearing smile and added, "Those certainly look yummy." The lady glanced back almost missing little Millie, who stood barely as high as the counter. "Yes, aren't they nice? Only $5.00 each." "Oh, I don't have any money." Wide-eyed, Millie turned on the charm. The lady stared back, wringing her hands in concern. Poor little thing, she pondered. What was the church for if not charity. "Which kind of pie do you like?" she asked. "Oh! Ah, I think I like the apple." Millie wiggled in excitement like a little kid, "With cinnamon sugar on top." "Well, don't tell anyone, but I'll give it to you, okay?" The woman opened a fresh box and reached for the delicacy. "Millie Stoddard? Is that you?" The voice blared out from behind little Millie. She turned to see a lady gawking at her. "We all wondered what happened to you! It's too bad about your house, the foreclosure and all." The woman eyed Millie, head to toe, as though seeing her for the first time. "I...I've been living downtown...Gateway Towers. I...ah, like to stop by the old neighborhood once in a while though...can't miss these bake sales." Millie turned and smiled at the clerk in an awkward, nervous movement. "Well, ritzy Gateway Towers, you say! I don't think so! Look at you! Really, do you take me for a fool?" The intruder turned and stomped off, then stopped and faced Millie again, her face softened. "Millie, if you ever want any help, call me...please." She walked away, murmuring. Millie gazed back to the clerk; the lady still smiled. "Mrs. Stoddard, I knew it was you. I knew one of your neighbors on Beverly Street and I'd see you in your yard all the time. And I know you've been having a hard time since the foreclosure...I saw you today under the bypass. So, please, take this apple pie." She handed over the bakery box. "Thank you," Millie stammered, the only words she could muster before rushing off. Later, Sam divided the pie among the three of them. As Millie stuffed in the last morsel, she murmured, "Who needs polite society anyway?" "Amen," Sam and Rock chimed in.
Who needed polite society as long as they had each other and
an occasional cinnamon apple pie. Jo Janoski is a poet, author, and photographer from Pittsburgh, PA. Send Jo a message either directly or using
the Word Catalyst feedback form. For more from Jo visit the
Word Catalyst archives or her
online home. |
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