Free Georgia Bottoms by Mark Childress Page A

the dirt? The lowliest worker ant has a thousand times more brainpower than the smartest flower on earth.
    Georgia smiled and cocked her head as Emma Day chattered on about coreopsis and clematis and the importance of natural rainwater and nitrogen in the soil.
    From the bottom of all sound came a rumble so low it trembled the floor beneath Georgia’s chair. Outside, something large was moving—okay yes, here it comes, first the grille then the tractor of a huge moving van sliding out of the shade of the pecan tree, a long trailer with a cartoon cowboy on the side, wearing a crown, riding a truck that snorted and bucked like a bronco. Charlie Ross Regal Moving.
    Georgia checked her watch: eight on the dot. The truck slid to a stop in a pool of sunshine at the end of the church driveway. The engine continued rumbling. Two men climbed down and went to drag open the sliding door. A third man tucked a clipboard under his arm and walked up the driveway to the parsonage.
    Emma Day was chattering on and didn’t notice. Georgia hadthe weird sensation that the truck was some kind of mirage, a piece of theatrical scenery that had been rolled into view. It was so big it didn’t look quite real.
    She knew she couldn’t go on staring out the window. She locked her gaze on the tip of Emma Day’s nose.
    Now came a small commotion, raised voices in the vicinity of the parsonage door.
    Emma Day placed her cup in its saucer, and swiveled neatly on her wrought-iron chair. “What in the world?”
    “I heard a rumor they were moving,” Georgia said. “I didn’t know it would be this soon.”
    Emma Day was shocked. “Eugene and Brenda? They’re not moving.”
    Georgia said, “Isn’t that a moving van?”
    Now Brenda Hendrix was out in the driveway, hollering at the man with the clipboard. You couldn’t make out individual words, but it was easy to get the gist.
    Brenda still wore her hot-pink chenille robe and slippers. Georgia detected the shadow of Eugene inside the screen door. Wasn’t it like him to stay inside letting his wife do all the yelling?
    “My stars, Georgia! Did they make some announcement at church? Floyd tied one on Saturday night, as usual, so we had to miss.”
    “I heard something,” said Georgia. “But not from Eugene. I forget who told me.”
    “Well I was over there yesterday and Brenda didn’t say a word! You’d think she would… I mean, my gosh, we’ve been neighbors for years.”
    “I heard he got transferred,” said Georgia. “To—I don’t know, Oklahoma? Arkansas? Somewhere like that.”
    Now Eugene pushed open the screen door and stepped outside. He was moving so slowly it was obvious he didn’t want to come out at all. Teebo Riley had promised Little Mama he would call Eugene immediately with word of his new assignment. That meant the Hendrixes had had all night for the truth to sink in. Still, the moving truck at their door the next morning must have come as a shock. And Eugene was not a morning person.
    For a time, Brenda seemed to be yelling at both Eugene and the clipboard guy, who had subtly backed up a few steps. The other men hung back at the truck.
    Suddenly Brenda ratcheted up the pitch of that cutting voice so that everyone on the block could hear. “I don’t give a goddamn what he said, Gene, this is
not
the way people get a new assignment!”
    Eugene said something—undoubtedly telling her to keep her voice down, don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.
    “Oh God, I
hate
you!” Brenda slapped him across the face and charged into the house.
Bang!
went the door.
    One of the men at the truck let out a whistle.
    The bang of the screen door broke the spell. Emma Day turned to Georgia. “My stars. Did you see that?”
    “I sure did.”
    “Okay—I just—I guess I’m not believing my eyes.”
    “Does she hit him like that a lot, you think?” Georgia said.
    “Not that I’m aware,” said Emma Day. “Not that I’ve ever seen, anyway. But you never know what goes on