Margo: 4: Nonsense

Della Manley was a good, God-fearing woman.  As faithful as the sunrise, Della believed in being a Christian all the time, not just when it was convenient.  As members of the full-gospel church for generations, the entire Manley clan were proud pillars of the assembly.  Church attendance was not an option.  Come Sunday, the whole family took their pew.

Sunday's were busy for Della.  She was either up early cooking for a potluck held after service, whipping up a cake for a bake sale, or devoting her afternoon to special music practice.  And did Della love to sing.  Her loud and booming voice would bounce off every wall and ceiling tile in the small church creating a cocoon of sound.   The choir director, Brother Landers, thanked the good Lord every day that Della could sing on key.  To try and overcome a roaring caterwaul would have been more than his nerves could handle.

As spirited as Della was at home, her flair for life was often magnified at church.  Especially when the Spirit got to moving.  The full-gospel church believed in movement and Della liked to move.  Heaven help the errant child who should stray from their mother's side to crawl under pews and land near Della's shouting shoes.  Watching out for possible victims of Della's worship was a burden the entire church silently took on themselves.

The pastor's sermon last Sunday had struck a chord with Della.  The message had concerned a man named Korah who had decided to rebel against Moses' leadership.  God didn't take too kindly to anyone messing with Moses, the leader He had put in charge, so He took care of Korah and the hooligans that followed him.  Fire from heaven came first and later the earth opened and swallowed them whole.  And if that wasn't enough, God sent a plague that wiped out thousands more.  It was apparent to Della that the Lord didn't put up with nonsense.  Della figured if the good Lord didn't have to put up with it then neither did she.

Which was why she was now hollering out her front door and giving out a most descriptive blessing.  Della would never curse at her enemies, but she definitely believed in blessing them.  She would bless them into bankruptcy, a cast, or into the next state with a job transfer.  God had slayed thousands of Israel's enemies. As long as Della didn't kill anyone, surely God would be on her side.

"You're a scoundrel! And dishonest!  I don't know how you show your face around this town!"  Della was in rare form.  Face flushed and mouth trembling, Della looked as though she were about to fly out of the house and put a whipping on the Schwan's delivery man.

Poor Mr. Needly.  Having been the Schwan's delivery man for the past twenty-seven years had mostly been a pleasure for him.  He enjoyed traveling around his state and getting to meet all kinds of people.  Sure, every once in a while there would be folks who were upset or had a problem, but Mr. Needly's slow and gentle manner was usually enough to ease the situation and calm all upset parties down.  Except there was no pleasing Della Manley.

Mr. Needly walked back to his truck, shook his head, and waved farewell to the Manley house.  He would definitely not be returning.

Margo stepped up behind her mother, who was still giving the poor man a tongue lashing, as Mr. Needly drove off.

"Mama, what in the world is wrong?  What happened?"

"What happened?  I'll have you know we've been deceived for months!"  Della slammed the front door and marched into the kitchen.  Whenever she was upset or agitated, baking seemed to calm her down.

Margo followed her mother, knowing instinctively there would be a fresh dessert for dinner tonight.  

"But that's Mr. Needly. He wouldn't hurt a fly."

Della stood gripping the kitchen sink.  She began taking slow breaths to calm herself; the last thing she needed was her blood pressure to start acting up.

"Then why for the last six months have we never been able to get a jar of honey from him?"

Mr. Needly delivered Schwan's frozen goods for several counties.  His extended route took him near Pritchard's Chicken and Honey Bee Farm.  Mr. Needly had managed to work out a deal with Ed Pritchard.  He would carry the Pritchard's goods with him on his delivery route and sell what he could for a small percent of the profit.  It was a good plan for both parties and had general success.

"I'll tell you why!"  Della was still red faced.  "Mr. Needly just informed me he changed his route about six months ago and now his first stop coming into town is always at the Fulgate's farm.  That Amy Fulgate makes a point to buy every one of his jars of honey.  She knows full well our house would be the next logical stop on Needly's route and that I have always bought my honey from Mr. Needly.  She does it for spite and he just lets her bat her little eyes at him and he hands over every jar he has.  It's a bunch of nonsense!  Well, I let him know what was going on and gave him a piece of my mind about it.  He had the nerve to act like he didn't know what I was talking about.  Men!"

Margo had to hide her smile.  Amy Fulgate was rather a temptress.  Her husband worked on their farm from dawn to dusk while she tended house and their five children.  Any male who happened to stop by their farm ended up on the receiving end of Mrs. Fulgate's advances.  Attention was what she was after and she had schooled herself well in how to receive it.  About a year ago, while in town, Della Manley had loudly rebuked Amy Fulgate for flirting with Mr. Manley.  That was all it took to drive a wedge between the matrons of the two farms.

Margo could not reply to her mother's logic or argument.  It would do no good.

Della exhaled loudly, shut her eyes for a minute, and whispered words came from her lips.  Prayer changes things and it always managed to change Della.  Opening her eyes, she smiled at Margo and asked what kind of dessert Margo wanted for dinner.  Just like that, the tirade was over.  A spring tornado moved slower than the moods of Della Manley.

Margo grinned and suggested chocolate cake.  "Guess what, Mama?"

"All this guessing you have me do.  You would think I could see the future.  What?"

"I know what I'm going to write about!  It came to me upstairs a minute ago.  I'm nervous though.  I really want to win."

"And you will.  So, what are you going to write about? Knights of the Round Table?  The Spanish Armada?  Little green men invading the supermarket?"

"I was going to keep it a secret.  Not tell anyone.  Just in case I lost."

"Well, whatever you think is best.  I know whatever you come up with will be excellent."

The screen door let out its usual screech.  Mr. Manley was home.  Margo and her mother both smiled and their shoulders noticeably dropped, relaxing a bit.  Somehow, the quiet, peaceful demeanor of Walter Manley could infiltrate the entire house.