MARILEE ABERNATHY HAD PLANNED HER suicide to the last
detail. She'd gotten up at dawn, showered, and made up her
face with the Mary Kay samples she'd won playing Tuesday-
night bingo at church and saved for special occasions.
Then she'd put on the beige linen suit and matching
pillbox hat she'd bought at the Style Mart. It wasn't Saks
Fifth Avenue, mind you, but it was the only place in
Chickpea, South Carolina, that didn't have bright orange
or lime-green polyester pant-suits hanging from a half-
price rack at the back of the store.
She wore her mother's pearl choker — you simply couldn't
go wrong with pearls — and the smart, two-tone, beige-and-
white high heels she'd never even taken out of the box
until today. She knew her shoes were inappropriate. Labor
Day had come and gone and dark brown spectator pumps would
have been more in keeping with the season, but Marilee had
chosen style over tradition. When folks came to her
funeral, she wanted them to stand back and take notice.
And say what a shame it was that Reverend Grady Abernathy
had abandoned wife and church for some slut with implants
and big hair.
As for Josh, Marilee couldn't even think of her son
without getting a lump in her throat the size of a turnip,
and the absolute last thing she needed to do was start
crying again. Someone might think she'd been crying over
Grady, and she simply would not have it. Not after he'd
turned their fifteen-year-old child against her and moved
the boy right smack into the best little whorehouse in
Chickpea. That her son had gone so willingly had been the
lowest blow, and the closest Marilee had come to having a
coronary.
She should have seen it coming. Josh had accused her of
smothering him more than once, wanting to know where he
was at all times, sticking her nose in his business, just
being a regular pain in the butt as far as he was
concerned. Marilee had to admit she'd become something of
a nag and a worry-wart. As a result, she'd ended up
alienating him — which explained why Josh was now living
in Tall Pines Trailer Park with his father and a waitress
by the name of LaFonda Bonaire.
The scandal had rocked the town and the church where Grady
had preached for the past ten years. His dismissal came
with a notice to evacuate the house provided by the
church. A stunned and humiliated Marilee had packed their
belongings in record time and put everything in storage.
She'd been hiding out at her poor deceased parents' house
for the past three days, hoping and praying she would wake
up and discover it had all been a bad dream. But it was
real. One minute she'd had a family and a life, the next
minute it was gone. It was as though a giant tornado had
come through and sucked up everything she'd ever known and
loved.
But none of that mattered now. What mattered was finding a
way to end the pain. And she had thought she'd found it
when she had pulled her car into the garage and closed the
door with the engine running.
It had seemed like the perfect way to die: sit inside a
closed garage with the engine running until she nodded
off. Marilee didn't know squat about carbon monoxide
poisoning except that it was supposed to be painless. Like
falling asleep.
So why in heaven's name was she still alive?
She gazed about her vintage Ford. She still held her son's
baby blanket and the rubber duck he'd loved as a toddler.
Life had been so much simpler then. Marilee had gotten
pregnant on her wedding night. Grady had sent a dozen red
roses to the hospital after she'd given birth, even though
he was still in seminary school and they were barely
making ends meet. She remembered as though it were
yesterday the day they brought their newborn home.
Marilee remembered nursing Josh in the middle of the
night, when the house was silent and all she could hear
were the suckling noises he made. Even now she could close
her eyes and conjure up the way he'd smelled, the feel of
his downy hair against her cheek. And later, when his eyes
lit up each time she walked into the nursery, his chubby
arms reaching for her. She had been his world, his
universe.
Now he no longer needed her. Funny how one could dismiss
another human being so easily.
Marilee's eyes flooded with tears, and she swiped at them
and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. The engine
wasn't running. She peered over the steering wheel at the
gas gauge. The needle pointed straight up to half a tank.
Marilee sighed wearily. Somehow, in all the rigamarole,
she'd forgotten about the faulty gas gauge. It had caused
her to run out of gas several times over the past six
months because she'd thought she had enough fuel to get
her home.
Obviously, it had happened again.
Wasn't that just her luck!
Marilee wrenched open the door to the car and climbed out.
There were still enough noxious fumes that she might be
overcome after all, but she couldn't count on it. She
needed fuel. She paced a moment and then spied a dull-red
gas can sitting in the corner of the garage. She paid a
boy to cut her parents' lawn twice a month. With any luck
she'd come up with enough gas to get her to a service
station.
The gas tank was empty, and Marilee had to bite back the
four-letter word on her tongue. She would not resort to
foul language. She planned to leave this world with her
morals and dignity perfectly intact. Years from now folks
would comment on what a lady she'd been, right up to the
bitter end. Marilee noted the lawn mower and hurried over
to it. She unscrewed the cap and looked inside. It was
full! Her joy was short-lived, though, as she pondered how
to get the gas from the lawn mower into the gas can so she
could pour it into her tank.
Dang! This suicide business was not as easy as she'd
thought it would be.
She walked around the garage, searching. A dusty garden
hose was coiled on a shelf at the back. She examined it,
but there was no telling how old it was. Her father had
never thrown anything away in his life. Still, it should
do the job. She went inside the house for a knife so she
could slice off a three- or four-foot section. A few
minutes later, Marilee was trying to siphon gasoline out
of the lawn mower. She swallowed a mouthful, then spent
the next few minutes coughing and gagging before she gave
it a second attempt. Grady had made it all look so simple
the time he'd done it. Once the gas started coming, she
quickly moved her end of the hose to the tank, but in her
rush, dropped it. She grabbed for it but was a split
second too late. Gas spewed everywhere, dousing her hair,
face and eyes. It felt like someone had set her eyeballs
on fire.
"Hellfire and damnation!" To hell with dignity and morals!
Marilee dropped the hose and raced blindly inside the
house to the bathroom, where she bathed her eyes in cold
water, ruining her perfect makeup and hairdo.
There went all her plans for a fashionable funeral. Irby
Denton, who owned the local funeral home, would take one
look at her and insist on a closed coffin. Marilee sat on
the edge of the tub and wept. And here she thought she'd
used up all her tears.
Where had she gone wrong? What had she done to Grady to
make him hate her so? How could two people who'd once been
so much in love, who'd vowed to God and themselves they'd
never part, suddenly find themselves in such a mess?
It had to be the flannel nightgowns she wore to bed. And
the floppy socks that kept her feet warm during the night.
It was no wonder he'd left her. She'd failed her husband.
She'd let herself go. Chased him right smack into the arms
of another woman.
LaFonda Bonaire was probably allergic to flannel. Finally,
Marilee composed herself. She returned to the garage and
shook her head at the sight. What a mess. Leaning against
her car and feeling defeated, she could just imagine what
Grady would say.
"Marilee," he'd say, "if you had a brain you'd have to
wear a warning label."
Grady had never talked to her like that in the early
years. He'd referred to her as his Sweet Pea. "Sweet Pea,"
he'd say, "you are a sight to behold in that new dress,"
or "Sweet Pea, what did you think of my sermon today?"
Now she was just plain old Marilee, who was rewarded with
a weary sigh from him when she asked the simplest
question. "Marilee, I don't have time to worry about the
Easter pageant. That's your job." Sigh. "Marilee, why are
you bothering me with questions about the Christmas
cantata when you know I have to prepare my sermon?"
Another sigh. Or, "Marilee, why on earth would you serve
taco salads at the senior citizens' dinner when you know
elderly people can't eat spicy food? Have you any idea how
many complaints I've received? I swear, Marilee, if you
had a brain, you'd have to wear a warning label."
There were times she felt she couldn't do anything right,
no matter how hard she worked. What about all the seniors'
dinners that had been successful? And had Grady forgotten
just how many visitors they had at Easter and Christmas?
Of course she wanted everything to go right. Some of those
visitors became members.
She shook her head sadly. Maybe Grady was right. What did
she know about anything? She gave a sniff. Not that Grady
was some kind of genius, mind you. Otherwise, he wouldn't
have gotten kicked out of the church for sleeping with a
woman who had a tattoo on her fanny that read Easy Rider.
At least that's what Darlene Milburn claimed, and she
should know since she taught water aerobics at theYMCA.
Darlene had "excused" LaFonda from class for wearing a
thong bikini, of all things.
Another woman. That was the absolute last thing she had
expected of him.
Marilee wondered if Grady's recent diagnosis of high blood
pressure had something to do with the change that had come
over him. Seemed he was always tired and out of sorts or
feeling under the weather. Her mother had long ago accused
him of being a hypochondriac and although Marilee had
defended him, there'd been times she'd thought the same
thing. Lately, he'd become so moody she'd found herself
tiptoeing around him. Then one day, right out of the blue,
he told her he planned to leave the ministry.
Looking back, Marilee was surprised she hadn't tried to
kill herself sooner.
With a heartfelt sigh, she stood and walked into the
living room. The place was gloomy and musty from being
closed up for so long, and she hadn't had the heart to do
anything about it the past few days, hadn't wanted to
remember how warm and inviting the house had been when her
parents were alive. Grady had wanted her to sell it once
her mother passed on; he resented the utility bills they
received every month for a place that had been closed up
for two years. "You'll never find closure until you let go
of that house," he'd said more than once. But Marilee had
resisted. She'd planned to put it on the market later,
when property values went up, then use the money to send
Josh to college.
Sheets covered the furniture and the old piano where she
had once practiced her scales under the tutelage of Mrs.
Sadie Habersham until her behind felt as if it were
growing into the piano bench. The wooden floors wore a
thick layer of dust. Heavy brocade drapes locked out the
early-morning sun. Lord, but they were ugly, what with
those thick cords twisted together like a bunch of snakes
in mating season. The tassels looked as though they
belonged in a bordello. What had her mother been thinking?
They'd obviously been on sale, because one thing Hester
Brown had never been able to pass up was a K mart blue-
light special or a clearance table.
Wait a minute...Cords?
Marilee stepped closer and examined them. Three nylon
strands were braided to make one thick cord. She tugged
hard. The fabric was still good and strong. She glanced up
at the beam that ran beneath the raised ceiling, her mind
working frantically. Her answer was right in front of her.
She would hang herself!
Marilee hurried into the kitchen, to the junk drawer where
her mother had kept everything that would fit and crammed
in those things that hadn't. She found a pair of scissors
and went to work. Each cord was about five feet long when
she pulled the drapes open. She cut four lengths from the
living-room drapes before making her way into the master
bedroom and guest rooms, where the same drapes, different
only in colors and degrees of ugliness, hung. It was no
easy task cutting through the cords, and by the time she
finished, she wore a blister at the base of her thumb.
Gathering them together, Marilee realized she had enough
cord to hang a gang of outlaws.
Grady had underestimated her. He figured since she'd never
earned a college degree that he was the smarter of the
two. It didn't matter that the reason she hadn't earned a
degree was that she'd had to work two jobs to support them
while he went to seminary school. Not that she'd minded.
They were a team, working toward a future. Even when Grady
sometimes felt he wasn't meant to preach, she would
reassure him, bolster his self-confidence. Wasn't that
part of being a wife and team member?
Once he'd become a pastor, she'd devoted her time to
church activities. She'd been good at it too, or so she'd
thought, until Grady began complaining about every little
thing she did. It only made her more determined to work
harder. Even if Grady found her lacking, others claimed
she was the veritable backbone of Chickpea Baptist Church.
A lot of good it did her now.
Marilee sat on the sofa and began tying the cords
together. The frayed tassels clashed with her outfit
something awful, but she had no choice. An hour later, she
had a sturdy, if gaudy-looking, hangman's noose. She spent
the next ten minutes trying to throw the noose over the
beam, and was about to give up before she remembered the
ladder in the garage. It could also be used as her jumping-
off place.
Heavens, but she could be brilliant at times!
Marilee dragged the ladder inside the house and placed it
beneath the beam. Holding one end of the cord between her
teeth, she began climbing. Okay, so the ladder was a
little wobbly. She suddenly remembered her fear of heights
and became angry with herself. She didn't have time to
fret about every little thing.
Pausing halfway up, she attempted once again to throw the
noose over the beam, all the while struggling to hang on
to the ladder. Finally! She tied it so it wouldn't pull
free. Marilee knew how to tie just about every kind of
knot there was, thanks to Josh's stint in the Boy Scouts.
Crouching at the top of the ladder, she slipped the noose
around her neck. Her hands trembled. She had no idea how
much it was going to hurt, but the pain could be no worse
than what she was feeling inside.
With an angry burst of determination, Marilee stood
straight up. And banged her head on the ceiling beam with
such force she almost fell off the ladder. In fact, she
would have, had she not grabbed the beam to steady
herself. The room spun wildly beneath her and she felt her
eyes cross. Her skull throbbed. Afraid she'd given herself
a concussion, Marilee stood there, trying to clear her
head. The floor seemed miles away. It felt as if she was
standing on top of Chickpea's water tower, where she and
Grady had sneaked up the night she'd turned sixteen.
They'd kissed under the stars and promised to love one
another forever.
Forever. So why, at age thirty-five, was she all alone
in the world?