couldn’t help myself.
“Some of them folks have quite the imagination,” she said. “Jesus showing up in lemon meringue.”
“I know, I didn’t really see it myself but just about everyone else did. Got real excited about it, Agnes.”
“I suspect seeing Jesus in any shape or form could be exciting.” She took a deep breath and reached for a candy bar—a Mounds that Stella Hughes left her earlier that day.
“You ever see Jesus?” I asked.
Agnes ripped open the Mounds and took a big bite that she chewed and chewed like she was stalling for time.
“You saying you did?”
“Not sure, Griselda. I don’t want to make it sound like I saw him, flesh and blood, walking down the street or knotted up in a tree trunk like some have. More like an experience deep inside. But that was a long time ago.”
“Like getting saved?”
Agnes pushed the rest of the chocolate into her mouth. “Different, but yeah, kind of like that.”
C ora went back to work after Doc insisted she spend three days in the hospital where she said she was poked and prodded with every medical instrument known to the modern world, or worse, she had said, the medieval world. Two internists and a cardiologist who had come from Wilkes-Barre tosee if what he heard was true, declared Cora as sound as a bell and released her.
I caught up with her at the Full Moon the day after Jack fed the Jesus pie to the crows. She stood behind the counter holding a pot of decaf and chatting with a couple of truck drivers.
“The look on that pointy-headed specialist's face was priceless,” she said. “He couldn’t believe it and told me there must have been something wrong with the first set of tests.”
One of the truck drivers, a short, stocky man, bit into his baloney sandwich while the other stared at Cora. “Maybe he's right, Cora. Maybe those earlier tests were all hogwash, a medical mix-up. I hear it happens all the time. Hospitals are always removing kidneys by accident, so maybe—”
“I won’t hear that talk,” Cora said, “It weren’t no mistake. Jesus healed me—healed me and then he showed up at our potluck in one of Zeb's pies just to prove it.”
With that the first driver choked and the second paid the check, and they left without another word.
Cora spied me sitting at a booth listening to the whole conversation. She cleaned up the counter and then headed my way. “Can you believe that, Griselda? They practically called me a liar.”
“Don’t fret about it Cora, they just don’t get it. People get scared at the thought of miracles and images of Jesus showing up in pie when they’re not accustomed to it. You understand.”
Actually, I was glad the truck drivers didn’t stick around to ask more questions, and worse, ask to see Agnes.
Cora poured me a cup of regular coffee and dropped several tiny containers of half and half on the table. “You’re right, Griselda, those good old boys don’t know Agnes.”
Zeb called Cora away before I had a chance to order a grilled cheese.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Griselda, I’ll be right back. Let me go see what he wants.”
Stu walked in and noticed me right off.
“Griselda,” he called with a wave. He hung his jacket on the pole at my booth. “I’m glad you’re here. I got great news.”
I swallowed coffee. “What is it, Stu?”
He sat across from me and smiled like a dog going for a car ride. “The sign is finished. Just got to be shipped from Scranton and then we can set it up out on the interstate. But first we’re planning an unveiling at the town hall.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You know how I feel about this, Stu. I wish you’d stop yakking at me about it.”
“I’m gonna stop by and tell Agnes just as soon as Boris and I wrap up some business.”
“I have to go back to the library, but—”
“Don’t matter, Griselda, you don’t need to be there. I just want to tell Agnes … and Hezekiah, I guess, if he's there.”
“He's supposed to be working
“Some of them folks have quite the imagination,” she said. “Jesus showing up in lemon meringue.”
“I know, I didn’t really see it myself but just about everyone else did. Got real excited about it, Agnes.”
“I suspect seeing Jesus in any shape or form could be exciting.” She took a deep breath and reached for a candy bar—a Mounds that Stella Hughes left her earlier that day.
“You ever see Jesus?” I asked.
Agnes ripped open the Mounds and took a big bite that she chewed and chewed like she was stalling for time.
“You saying you did?”
“Not sure, Griselda. I don’t want to make it sound like I saw him, flesh and blood, walking down the street or knotted up in a tree trunk like some have. More like an experience deep inside. But that was a long time ago.”
“Like getting saved?”
Agnes pushed the rest of the chocolate into her mouth. “Different, but yeah, kind of like that.”
C ora went back to work after Doc insisted she spend three days in the hospital where she said she was poked and prodded with every medical instrument known to the modern world, or worse, she had said, the medieval world. Two internists and a cardiologist who had come from Wilkes-Barre tosee if what he heard was true, declared Cora as sound as a bell and released her.
I caught up with her at the Full Moon the day after Jack fed the Jesus pie to the crows. She stood behind the counter holding a pot of decaf and chatting with a couple of truck drivers.
“The look on that pointy-headed specialist's face was priceless,” she said. “He couldn’t believe it and told me there must have been something wrong with the first set of tests.”
One of the truck drivers, a short, stocky man, bit into his baloney sandwich while the other stared at Cora. “Maybe he's right, Cora. Maybe those earlier tests were all hogwash, a medical mix-up. I hear it happens all the time. Hospitals are always removing kidneys by accident, so maybe—”
“I won’t hear that talk,” Cora said, “It weren’t no mistake. Jesus healed me—healed me and then he showed up at our potluck in one of Zeb's pies just to prove it.”
With that the first driver choked and the second paid the check, and they left without another word.
Cora spied me sitting at a booth listening to the whole conversation. She cleaned up the counter and then headed my way. “Can you believe that, Griselda? They practically called me a liar.”
“Don’t fret about it Cora, they just don’t get it. People get scared at the thought of miracles and images of Jesus showing up in pie when they’re not accustomed to it. You understand.”
Actually, I was glad the truck drivers didn’t stick around to ask more questions, and worse, ask to see Agnes.
Cora poured me a cup of regular coffee and dropped several tiny containers of half and half on the table. “You’re right, Griselda, those good old boys don’t know Agnes.”
Zeb called Cora away before I had a chance to order a grilled cheese.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Griselda, I’ll be right back. Let me go see what he wants.”
Stu walked in and noticed me right off.
“Griselda,” he called with a wave. He hung his jacket on the pole at my booth. “I’m glad you’re here. I got great news.”
I swallowed coffee. “What is it, Stu?”
He sat across from me and smiled like a dog going for a car ride. “The sign is finished. Just got to be shipped from Scranton and then we can set it up out on the interstate. But first we’re planning an unveiling at the town hall.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You know how I feel about this, Stu. I wish you’d stop yakking at me about it.”
“I’m gonna stop by and tell Agnes just as soon as Boris and I wrap up some business.”
“I have to go back to the library, but—”
“Don’t matter, Griselda, you don’t need to be there. I just want to tell Agnes … and Hezekiah, I guess, if he's there.”
“He's supposed to be working
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