“No, you didn’t,” Ina Mae argued. “That was Blanche’s idea. She thought because your daddy was the judge back then that he’d get us off if we got caught.”
“Well,” Gussie huffed, “she just said the words that were in my heart. Anyway, I asked Mama if we could use the old summer kitchen out back of our house to make a girls’ clubhouse, and she said we could.”
“Why did you name it the Sunshine Club?” Sissy’s toes were getting colder by the minute. She wished she had worn socks and boots, rather than high heels and no stockings.
“That was Gussie’s mama’s idea. She said us three girls were all rays of sunshine, so that would be a good idea for our club,” Ina Mae answered. “And we’ve had a meeting in our club every Sunday for sixty years, and boys are still not allowed to step foot through the door. And now, just thinking about Blanche not being at our meeting this afternoon makes me all misty eyed.”
“This isn’t Sunday.” Sissy could see the hearse headed for a green tent not far up ahead.
“No, but we have to meet today because that’s in Blanche’s letter,” Ina Mae said. “Dammit! I’m crying again. Don’t you dare tell Blanche, Gussie.”
“I won’t tattle on you, if you don’t on me,” Gussie said, and then turned to Sissy. “We have both cried until we had to put ice packs on our eyes this morning to make ourselves presentable at this service, but we vowed we’d do what Blanche wanted and not weep at the funeral.”
The hearse stopped in front of a green tent set up with three chairs facing a platform wrapped in artificial turf. Ina Mae and Gussie sat down, leaving the middle chair for Sissy. She took her place and watched the pallbearers bring the casket out from the hearse and set it down. Fake green grass and an ice storm all at the same time—that seemed like the story of Sissy’s life. Two very different people—one professional, one as common as dirt. Hopefully, though, neither was fake or cold natured.
“Who are those pallbearers?” Sissy whispered to Gussie.
“The silver-haired one is the hospital administrator that took over when Blanche retired, and the others are either doctors or folks she worked with when she was working. She had a list of who we were supposed to ask to carry the casket,” Gussie answered in a low voice.
“She didn’t leave anything undone, did she?” Sissy’s voice quivered.
“It’ll be all right, chère.” Gussie leaned over toward her and patted her on the arm as they waited for the rest of the people to gather round for the remainder of the service.
Sissy nodded and brought her head up at just the right angle to flip Gussie’s big brimmed, black hat with its red rose on the side smack off her head, and sent it flying toward the preacher like a big-butted, black bird. Ina Mae reached up with a long arm and caught it in midair. She slapped it back down on Gussie’s head and said in a low voice, “You are welcome.”
Sissy heard muted giggles behind her, but she managed to get her serious face on when she remembered what Aunt Bee always said about being respectful at a funeral.
You would have thought it was a hoot if Gussie’s big old hat had fallen right in the middle of your casket arrangement of white lilies. Lilies in the middle of winter. I wonder where on earth Gussie and Ina Mae found them, she thought as she stared at the casket.
The preacher cleared his throat and looked out over the crowd for a few seconds. “Miz Blanche Ducaine will be missed. She was a sweet lady who was an integral part of the church. She and her two friends cleaned it every Saturday morning . . .”
Daddy, you should be here, she thought. You and Mama should be inheriting her house and setting down roots. You would both be over fifty, and this would be a good place for you to live.
The preacher’s voice faded into the background. Sissy remembered many times helping her aunt, Ina Mae, and Gussie tidy up the church on Saturday morning. She had picked gum and candy wrappers from the racks on the backs of the pews that held hymnbooks and even read a few notes from teenagers that weren’t meant for her eyes. She hadn’t minded helping out, especially since Aunt Bee always took her to the shooting range afterward and let her fire off a few rounds at the targets that were fastened on the ends of big round bales of hay.
She scolded herself for going down memory lane and not listening and tried to concentrate on the preacher. What had Gussie said his name was? Larry? No, that wasn’t right. Liam? Sissy frowned, then caught herself just before she shouted out, “Luke.” In her opinion, he was too tall, dark, and handsome to be a preacher. But then he did have piercing blue eyes that looked like they could see right into a person’s soul. Her grandfather always said it was a preacher’s job to help save souls, so maybe Luke’s ability to see into a person’s heart with those sexy blue eyes was a big help.
More than a hundred people stood behind her—at least that’s how many she figured were back there. She could imagine their bones turning to pure ice and the lot of them freezing to death in an upright position. Folks in the southern part of Texas weren’t used to this weather, and their thin coats probably did little to keep them warm. Sissy didn’t have to imagine their sighs. Those were loud and clear.
“Why are so many people here? Were they all friends with Aunt Bee?” she whispered to Gussie.
“She always told everyone that, when she died, she was going to have a jazz funeral. No one believed her, and they’ve all come out today to see if me and Ina Mae would really do what she wanted,” Gussie said out the side of her mouth. “There’s no way they’d miss this, and besides, there’s a potluck dinner after the burial.”
That wasn’t funny—but it was. Sissy buried her face in the pretty white hankie that Gussie had tucked into her pocket on the way to the cemetery and hoped that all the folks behind her thought her shaking shoulders meant she was crying.
Oh, Aunt Bee, she thought. Please, don’t push the lid up on that casket and tell me I’m going to hell for laughing at your funeral. Like me, there were two sides to you. One was the religious side left over from your upbringing. You believed in Jesus and God, but not to the strict degree that your folks did. Then there was the fun-loving, ornery side. Neither of my sides are religious, but there’s a touch of fun in the common one.
Gussie bent forward and began to sob uncontrollably behind her big black hat. Ina Mae’s hat almost lost the rose that was tacked to the side when she did the same. Sissy got control of herself and draped an arm around each of them. She sympathized with the loss of their best friend and sister, of the heart if not of the blood. As a therapist, she knew all about how hard losing a lifetime friend could be on seventy-year-old women and felt guilty about laughing.
Tears of humor turned into those of sadness and flowed down Sissy’s cheeks. Then Ina Mae snorted, and Sissy realized they were giggling, and wondered if they had plumb lost their minds.
The preacher stopped, cleared his throat, and looked over at Ina Mae, Gussie, and Sissy. “I want to offer my services to all three of you if you need someone to talk to in your time of grief. Know that the entire church is here for you and will be praying earnestly that you will remember the good times you had with Blanche. Lunch will be served in the fellowship hall, and you are all invited to join us. Maybe each of you have a little memory you could share with Blanche’s niece, Sissy, and her best friends, Ina Mae and Gussie, when you get a chance.”