The Chapel My Mother Made Us Share
For thirty years my sister Verna and I lived eleven miles apart and never crossed them. You can do that, in a country town. People… Read more
The Deacon They Wrongly Accused
Wendell Pyle stood up in the middle of the fellowship hall, pointed one finger down the length of the table at me, and said, “The… Read more
The Booth She Prayed In
The booth in the front corner of my diner faced east, and that was the only reason I ever rented this building. Maribeth Aldous told… Read more
The Bell They Wanted To Sell
The truck came up County Road A a little after seven, pulling a flatbed with a rigging crane folded down flat like a sleeping animal,… Read more
The Creek Where My Grandmother Sang
For twenty years I told myself I had left the church because I had outgrown it. That was a lie I got comfortable inside of,… Read more
The Zucchini War of Maple Street
The first shot of the war was fired over a chain-link fence on Maple Street in August of the year my husband died, when my… Read more