A Lie for a Lie by Emilie Richards Page A
Authors: Emilie Richards
when the second round of the Idyll began. And before then, I fully expected a few frantic calls from Fred. I’d seen him this morning when I popped over to the hotel to replace the bulb in Grady’s bathroom while the great one was off having breakfast. Fred had looked even doughier, a man who wasn’t getting enough sleep or exercise.
I stood to go. “Why don’t you come for dinner after the shop closes?”
“I can’t. Miss Emma and I are going out to see Nora.”
I almost passed over this. After all, my mother has her own life here, and I can’t know all her friends. There are far too many. Then I froze.
“Tell me you don’t mean Sister Nora of the tent show.”
Junie stood, too, and tugged a Feeling Quilty T-shirt over her substantial hips. “Exactly who I mean.”
“You’re calling her Nora. You won’t drop the Miss in Miss Emma, but you’re dropping the Sister in Sister Nora.”
She waved that away. “Sister is only a title. And Miss Emma is Southern, and she’s been called Miss Emma since she was fifteen. She can’t remember to answer to anything else.”
I didn’t let a discussion of titles and regional customs sidetrack me. “You’ve been there before? To the tent show?”
“It’s quite a wonderful way to spend an evening. Miss Emma is fond of the lion tamer. She once had an affair with the zookeeper at the Atlanta zoo.”
This was a vision I did not want in my head. The Miss Emma I know weighs about sixteen pounds, less than an ounce of which is hair and teeth. One day she’ll die reaching for a bolt of fabric, and hours will pass before anybody notices the subtle difference.
“How many times have you gone?” I stepped closer, because I know my mother too well. “Tell me you’re not going to join up.”
“I think you’d better come along tonight to see what it’s really about. Nora has as deep a concern for the environment as anyone I’ve ever met. She genuinely loves those animals and takes extraordinarily good care of them. And her faith is strong. There’s nothing there to frighten anybody.”
“It can’t be that simple,” I said. “Where’s the part where she tries to convince you to give up all your worldly goods—to her—and go live in a circus trailer?”
“Nora believes she speaks with God. That’s why she’s going to build a biosphere on her new acreage. God’s told her this is where it has to go. But she hasn’t asked me or anybody else for a cent to make it happen. She says God will provide the funds.”
“Biosphere? Here in Emerald Springs?”
Junie didn’t seem to think that was strange. “What better place, precious. You and I are here to help, aren’t we?”
In the heyday of circuses, running away to join one was considered romantic, adventurous. High-spirited teenagers and wives in need of more excitement than plucking chickens and pickling beets probably thought the circus and the life it promised were visions from God. Those who loved the runaways and wanted them to stay home probably thought the circus was an enticement of the devil.
As I parked my minivan on Horseshoe Bend Road, I wondered which side of that coin Sister Nora’s Inspirational Tent Show would come down on. Even though it was seven o’clock, and the sun was moving steadily toward the horizon, I felt more like I was in hell than heaven. I’d had a full day working on preparations for the Idyll, including a closed-door meeting with the doleful manager of the Emerald Springs Hotel who, after less than twenty-four hours of Grady’s presence, had come far too close to blubbering. I wanted an evening at home with my husband, daughters, and an electric fan. But I know my mother. In those olden, golden days Junie would never have settled for chickens and beets. I wanted to make sure that when and if Sister Nora leaves Emerald Springs, she didn’t take my happy-go-lucky mother with her.
As I jumped down to open the sliding door, Lucy got down from the passenger
I stood to go. “Why don’t you come for dinner after the shop closes?”
“I can’t. Miss Emma and I are going out to see Nora.”
I almost passed over this. After all, my mother has her own life here, and I can’t know all her friends. There are far too many. Then I froze.
“Tell me you don’t mean Sister Nora of the tent show.”
Junie stood, too, and tugged a Feeling Quilty T-shirt over her substantial hips. “Exactly who I mean.”
“You’re calling her Nora. You won’t drop the Miss in Miss Emma, but you’re dropping the Sister in Sister Nora.”
She waved that away. “Sister is only a title. And Miss Emma is Southern, and she’s been called Miss Emma since she was fifteen. She can’t remember to answer to anything else.”
I didn’t let a discussion of titles and regional customs sidetrack me. “You’ve been there before? To the tent show?”
“It’s quite a wonderful way to spend an evening. Miss Emma is fond of the lion tamer. She once had an affair with the zookeeper at the Atlanta zoo.”
This was a vision I did not want in my head. The Miss Emma I know weighs about sixteen pounds, less than an ounce of which is hair and teeth. One day she’ll die reaching for a bolt of fabric, and hours will pass before anybody notices the subtle difference.
“How many times have you gone?” I stepped closer, because I know my mother too well. “Tell me you’re not going to join up.”
“I think you’d better come along tonight to see what it’s really about. Nora has as deep a concern for the environment as anyone I’ve ever met. She genuinely loves those animals and takes extraordinarily good care of them. And her faith is strong. There’s nothing there to frighten anybody.”
“It can’t be that simple,” I said. “Where’s the part where she tries to convince you to give up all your worldly goods—to her—and go live in a circus trailer?”
“Nora believes she speaks with God. That’s why she’s going to build a biosphere on her new acreage. God’s told her this is where it has to go. But she hasn’t asked me or anybody else for a cent to make it happen. She says God will provide the funds.”
“Biosphere? Here in Emerald Springs?”
Junie didn’t seem to think that was strange. “What better place, precious. You and I are here to help, aren’t we?”
In the heyday of circuses, running away to join one was considered romantic, adventurous. High-spirited teenagers and wives in need of more excitement than plucking chickens and pickling beets probably thought the circus and the life it promised were visions from God. Those who loved the runaways and wanted them to stay home probably thought the circus was an enticement of the devil.
As I parked my minivan on Horseshoe Bend Road, I wondered which side of that coin Sister Nora’s Inspirational Tent Show would come down on. Even though it was seven o’clock, and the sun was moving steadily toward the horizon, I felt more like I was in hell than heaven. I’d had a full day working on preparations for the Idyll, including a closed-door meeting with the doleful manager of the Emerald Springs Hotel who, after less than twenty-four hours of Grady’s presence, had come far too close to blubbering. I wanted an evening at home with my husband, daughters, and an electric fan. But I know my mother. In those olden, golden days Junie would never have settled for chickens and beets. I wanted to make sure that when and if Sister Nora leaves Emerald Springs, she didn’t take my happy-go-lucky mother with her.
As I jumped down to open the sliding door, Lucy got down from the passenger