Ricky Lindley is a natural-born storyteller. He paints a picture of a rural Southern community joined by church, decorated by family love, and threatened by the pranks of a willful teenaged boy and the devilment of an upright Christian lady. Laced with humor and insight and anchored by the adventures of the Davis family, the story takes pleasure in simpler times and surprises us with the power of what people can do when they find worthy leaders among their common neighbors. Lindley leaves us with a character that will warm the hearts of educators everywhere - a great high school English teacher who turns a day gone wrong into a writing lesson in forgiveness. - Marjorie Hudson, author of Accidental Birds of the Carolinas and Searching for Virginia Dare. "This is the best book I have read in a long time. It takes you into a typical Southern Community filled with quirky Southern people. I loved it and I hated to see it end. I can't wait for Ricky's next novel". - Hobie Patterson "A warm and humorous novel about a young boy, insulated by the love and wisdom of his family, as he tests the boundaries in a small Southern community. Ricky Lindley has written an amazing first novel. - Mary Helen Moody

PLEASANT GROVE

1934–1948 The Early Years A Southern NovelBy Ricky Lindley

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Ricky Lindley
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4670-3736-5

Chapter One

MARCH 25TH 1934

A Splash in the Community

"Oh, Mother, please. What can I say to my friends? At your age and I am nearly ten years old. Really, what were you and Father thinking, having a baby at this time in my life?" Genevieve Davis, nearly ten in years and fifteen in mind, was a force to be reckoned with. Genevieve carried the name and features from her father's side of the family. French heritage was how she described it. Her blue eyes and blonde hair must have been carried on a strong gene outweighing her mother's Italian influence on her appearance. She looked just like her father. Genevieve was a whirlwind who stirred her parents' lives, giving them cause to wonder, "What were we thinking, having a baby at this time in her life?"

George was a dairy farmer, reared from generations of Pleasant Grove hardy stock and married to a most uncommon girl. He met Lidia when he was in the Foreign League after his senior year at Grove High. It was a moment in Capellini, beside a stone dairy barn where sheep were being milked to make cheese. George had hoped to find his future in the wisdom of the local cheese makers. Instead, he found his future in the burnt umber eyes of Lidia Salotti. It was the summer of 1922 and George Davis returned from Italy with his new bride.

Somehow that baby boy landed in the heart of the entire community. They were spellbound by his wondering brown eyes, eyes that looked for trouble the first time he opened them. He found trouble as soon as he could walk and by the time his second birthday rolled by, he no longer looked for trouble. He caused it.

JUNE 11TH 1939

A Summer Morning

"Giovanni, please darling, stay where I can see you this time. When you carried that snake up yesterday, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

Lidia was busy in the garden with five-year-old Giovanni at her apron string, or so she thought. She needed to finish picking the green beans and checking the squash before the men came in for breakfast. Giovanni, however, was much faster than his mother. By the time she had a handful of green beans, he had a handful of green bean vines from roots to blooms and was running across the garden, crushing everything in his path. Lidia made it back to the house just in time to help Genevieve finish breakfast, carrying a basket holding just a few green beans across her arm and Giovanni on her hip. He held tight to his bean vine in one hand and a turtle in the other.

"Thank you, Genevieve, I couldn't do it without you. George is on his way up from the barn and I haven't even started in the garden." She let Giovanni slide down to her knee and dropped him on the kitchen floor. His legs were at high gear in mid air and he hit the floor at full speed. "I'll finish the eggs while you set the table. Don't forget to set a place for Hurley. He's helping with the hay this week and he'll be here for every meal."

Hurley White was a black man with a tall, slender build and light complexion. He lived across the woods with his wife, Daisy, and three children. Roy was their youngest, two years older than Giovanni. Roy's two sisters were in the second and third grades. Daisy was an excellent cook and worked as a housekeeper and cook for Dr. and Mrs. Duncan and their daughter, Mary Alice. Hurley and Daisy were a kind and gentle couple with inviting smiles. Their three children were the same.

George and Hurley came in the back door and set a glass pitcher of fresh milk on the kitchen table beside the plate of hot biscuits.

"Please, Hurley, sit, Genevieve's bringing the rest of the food. Thanks for helping us, I don't know what we would do without you, truly, I don't. I think I'll roast a chicken for lunch." Lidia made everyone feel like family. It came natural to this gorgeous Italian lady.

It was different being at the Davis'. It was the way Lidia did things, the way she planted her garden in square lots instead of long rows letting bean vines climb up branches trimmed from the apple trees. She didn't go to The Farmer's Alliance Store to buy her garden seeds and plants. She brought her seeds with her from Italy. They were saved from year to year, for generations and the flavors they offered were from another world. Roma tomatoes instead of German Johnsons and wax beans instead of half runners. Flowers were planted with vegetables and baskets lined the rows instead of metal buckets. Her aprons were even brighter than her neighbors, made from fabric her grandmother loomed and dyed with vegetable dyes when Lidia was a child. Lidia's garden didn't look like a place of hard work and sore backs, it was more like a festival where you ran to claim your prize. There was something about Lidia. George had always known it. Even Hurley knew. Genevieve took great silent pride in it. All the neighbors admired it, but most refused to acknowledge it. Lidia didn't see the magic, because she created it.

Genevieve came in with the food, being careful to place every dish in its correct place. "I was reading that in New York at The Carlton, this is considered An American Country Breakfast and the very most important people in society rave about how wonderful it is. Except on Sunday, of course, when they have brunch. That's when they stay in late, reading the Sunday paper in bed, having their first meal at ten o'clock instead of seven. Then it's Belgian waffles with fresh fruit and whipped cream, or French toast with powdered sugar and link sausage, or Canadian bacon. I think they find some of our heartiest foods a little heavy. Oh, not because it isn't good, it is good, it's delicious. It's because they really don't work hard enough to rationalize eating such a breakfast. You know, life really is very different in New York. Somehow I think I would be right at home in that atmosphere. Don't you think so, Mother?"

"Oh, Genevieve, darling, somehow I think you're already there!" Lidia could barely keep up with her daily responsibilities, let alone take fantasy trips across the globe with Genevieve. It was exhausting to even talk to that girl sometimes because she was so involved in her dreams. You couldn't simply listen. You got caught up in the glory of it all and were only permitted to leave when Genevieve released you. She loved this about her daughter, knowing that a willingness to dream is what landed her in Pleasant Grove with the man she still adored and two beautiful children.

The family finished their breakfast. The milk glasses had only a white film left and the biscuits were reduced to golden brown crumbs scattered across the white tablecloth. The jelly and butter were ready to be returned to the refrigerator. Genevieve was up and promptly taking the plates away just as it was done at The Carlton. George and Hurley were heading out the back door and Lidia was trying to pry Giovanni from the high chair. Having Giovanni in a high chair was the only way to keep him at the table; he had long since been too tall for the contraption. He had tried to escape and was wedged between the strap that held him around the waist and the tray that held his brown chin where smears of jelly held onto bread crumbs. It was almost impossible to set him free. He was running in mid air, causing the chair to bounce across the floor, but he didn't cry or complain. Giovanni Davis lived for what was just ahead of him and never worried about the present. He didn't have time to worry about being stuck in the high chair when there was a cat on the porch with a tail long enough to get both his hands on.

Lidia finally freed the strap around his waist and before she could grab him, he slid down, hitting his chin on the tray and bouncing his head back against the seat just before he slammed onto the hard linoleum floor, missing the table leg by a fraction of an inch. The fall was so fast and dangerous that it seemed to happen in slow motion and somehow Lidia was unable to help her beautiful son. Before she could even react to the injuries the screen door was slamming behind Giovanni.

"Mother, do you think we could have our cloth napkins monogrammed? That way when we take our food to the church socials our napkins won't get confused with Edna May Crutchfield's napkins. I really do think that she ended up with some of our napkins at the last dinner. I guess it was because that daughter of theirs, Mary May, was screaming. Did you hear her, of course you did, everybody did. It hurt my ears, Mother. I don't mean it was uncomfortable, it really hurt them. I thought I was going to have to go to a specialist, but they got better. Why does that girl scream like that? She's the same age as Giovanni and he never screams. Even if he did scream, he wouldn't scream like that. Nobody could scream like that. I think she needs a spanking. Of course, you know, it's not the fashion to spank your children in some countries. I say they either need to move to one of those countries or spank her in this country. The screaming really did hurt my ears, Mother! I still may need to see a specialist, especially if she does it again."

Two Forces Collide

Just as Genevieve was drying the last plate, they heard the cat howling and screeching and immediately knew the source of its pain.

Lidia tilted her head towards the screen door and shouted, "Giovanni, dear, please let that cat go."

Little Giovanni let go. However, Lidia didn't realize that he had the cat in a full pivotal spin when she asked him to let it go. He released the cat and Genevieve caught a glimpse as it sailed past the kitchen window. She leaned up to see where it landed and spotted Edna May Crutchfield and her daughter Mary May getting out of their car. Edna May was carrying a pie. The cat landed just in front of Mary May and set her into a frenzied screaming fit. Giovanni immediately ran towards her to catch the cat. Inside Genevieve covered her ears and exclaimed something about her specialist. The shriek outside made it hard for Lidia to understand what she said. She could see George and Hurley across the pasture in the hay fields as they cut off their tractors and looked to see what was happening. Giovanni trotted up to Mary May.

Little Mary May's screams were past human; they were more on the electronic scale. Mary May could pierce the air waves with the frequency of an air raid siren. The screaming didn't scare Giovanni, just irritated him. He walked up to her and stood almost nose to nose, his little eyebrows scowled as he stared at her. Nobody had ever been this close to the scream center and he noticed something amazing. Mary May wasn't in a state of hysteria, fright or panic. It was more like she was performing a solo. When she screamed her eyes were very calm as they floated from one side to the other and sometimes up toward the sky. She was surveying the reactions, or damage as it was, to her unrelenting song. When she was out of breath and stopped to refill her exhausted lungs, she looked at Giovanni. He was so close that her eyes automatically crossed. There they stood, toe to toe, will to will, breath to exhausted breath, waiting for the other to react. There was tremendous power tied up in those two little people and everyone watching stood in silent anticipation, afraid to set off another alarm by speaking.

Edna May stood a few feet away with the fresh baked pie in her trembling hand, embarrassed by the performance, ashamed of being unable to control the unscheduled concerts from Mary May. Lidia was coming around the corner of the house with her heart pounding. She knew what Giovanni was capable of and how helpless she was to control his actions. Genevieve followed close behind, wiping her hands on the nicest dish towel she could find as she rushed out the door. The cat was on top of the barn. The audience waited for the next act in this drama and they heard Giovanni speak.

"Shut your mouth or I'll put a frog in it." This was not a threat; he was too young to know what a threat was. It was the only way he knew to stop this girl from singing her song again. On the other hand, the thought of putting a frog in Mary May's mouth excited him.

Mary May closed her eyes in defiance, pursed her lips and with her hands on her hips announced, "I don't believe you and you don't have a frog, anyway ..."

By that time the air under her nose smelled like the creek in the woods behind the barn. She opened one eye and saw only the back of a bull frog. She couldn't see the rest because it was too close to her mouth.

Just before Giovanni ran to see where the cat landed he had picked up his mason jar. It was sitting outside the kitchen door with enough water in it to keep his frog wet. He put the jar inside his overalls between the top snap and his little brown bellybutton. Leaving his frog behind would be like a pirate leaving his parrot on the ship.

The two stood in a face off, will against will, threat against threat, frog against lips. This was probably the first time in Mary May's life she actually had a reason to let out her shrill alarm and it was impossible to let go. Her lips quivered and her eyes darted frantically for help. The scream was swelling up in her throat like a geyser about to erupt. Giovanni stood in front of her, patiently waiting for the opening. Mary May's lips turned white as they held back the scream. Her cheeks filled with air and her green eyes were fixed on Giovanni's brown eyes, calmly staring back. Just when she thought all was lost and the song was about to be released for all to hear, Giovanni stepped back and put the frog in the jar. The scream was reduced to a puff of air that would blow out candles on a birthday cake and Mary May's little body slumped in relief. Giovanni had placed the jar back in his pants and was on his way to the barn, the confrontation already forgotten. He had another adventure in mind. No time to dwell on the past.

The Way Things Are Done

It had only been a minute since the cat had taken flight, but it seemed like hours for the witnesses. Lidia gained her composure and passed Giovanni as she walked toward Edna May, who had dropped the pie in her moment of weak helplessness.

"Dio, cio che a commotion! Povera donna, e necessario essere terrorizzati. Come posso io domare mio figlio bello?" Lidia often broke into an Italian oration when an unexpected situation arose and even though no one knew what she was saying, it was always the perfect remedy. Her Italian voice took the entire situation to another place and everyone regained control. "Mary, darling, why don't you go with Genevieve and let her show you some of those magazines from New York? I'm sure you two will have a great time while I help Edna with this pie."

Edna May was picking the pie up from the soft green grass. Luckily it had fallen straight down like a rock and not turned upside down. The crust was broken and the apples had burst through the lattice work on top, but it was still somewhat presentable.

"My goodness, I am clumsy today, I just dropped this pie right on the ground. It was just a surprise when that cat flew toward us and poor little Mary May was just sent into a tizzy. Well, my goodness those children of ours certainly are full of life. Whoever would have thought that a child would carry a frog around in his pants?! I think everything will be fine, the frog didn't actually touch her lips, not that I could see. I know, boys will be boys and all that, but what an imagination. Where did he run off to? Well my goodness, where are my manners? Let me tell you why we stopped by."

Edna May had a gift for saying the most cutting things simply by dancing around a subject. The fact was she had always thought Lidia and George Davis let their son run like a wild animal. She had said so at the last Ladies Missionary Society meeting at Pleasant Grove Methodist Church. She brought it up during a time of prayer concerns, "Hoping that the little boy wouldn't be led astray with no parental guidance in this evil world." It was easy to see where Mary May inherited her sense of drama. Her only chore was to learn how to be less direct in her presentations.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from PLEASANT GROVEby Ricky Lindley Copyright © 2011 by Ricky Lindley. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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