The Bright, Bright Sun

By C. A. Frusha

Miss Effie's elevator does not go all of the way to the top, according to her neighbors in Conway, Mississippi. She picks up road kill, has strange ceremonies in her back yard, can take down a deer with a bow and arrow at fifty yards and is as rich as Croesus. It has never occurred to them the attitude is mutual,
As a child, Effie was raised by her grandfather, a Choctaw Indian medicine man. After his death she ran away from home to be nurtured by a part time hobo, a blues singer, alligator trappers, The Lady Songbird and more incredible characters. Miss Effie first moved to Conway after marrying one of the town sons. Rumors are plentiful about this unusual woman, especially after the death of her husband.
Come join the quirky inhabitants of Conway as the life story of their most eccentric neighbor unfolds. Lord only knows what she will do next.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. A. Frusha
• Release date: Jul 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463834688

C. A. Frusha

C. A. Frusha grew up in a small town in Mississippi and graduated from The University of Mississippi (Ole Miss). Today, she is a traditional Yang Style Tai Chi Chuan instructor living partly in China and partly in the same little hometown in Mississippi.

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THE BRIGHT, BRIGHT SUN

By

C. A. Frusha

Copyright © 2012 C. A. Frusha

All rights reserved.

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CONTENTS

Epigraph

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

"Your family isn’t necessarily the ones you’re born to, but the ones who answer when your soul calls out."

-The Lady Songbird-

CHAPTER 1

An ambulance pulled up to a dusty stop in front of Taggert’s Grocery and Gas Station. Mrs. Slocomb, the town Mayor, stepped out wearing an umpire shirt, sweatpants, sneakers and a whistle. Her hair was black and styled in a pile of curls on top of her head. She was a slightly heavy woman in her mid-fifties but didn’t let that stop her from jogging across the parking lot like a schoolgirl. She stopped at a crowd of people dressed in antebellum period clothing who were preparing for the annual pilgrimage parade and hoping to be interviewed by the television crew from Jackson.

Good Lord! Is it that time of year again? Mayor Slocomb cried as she looked around at the women wearing pastel colored, lacy hoop skirted dresses, complete with matching parasols and gloves. Between gasps for breath she exclaimed, My word, you girls look like a Kleenex factory blew up!

Miss Myra Hancock, the town dragon lady and her sidekick, the scatter brained Miss Hannah Williams, commonly known as Miss Myra and Miss Hannah respectively, sauntered over from their shady spot under the Silver leafed Maple tree by the store to speak to the group of ladies.

Miss Myra spoke in her smooth southern drawl while fanning dust away from her face, Now Maya’ you know good and well we have the pilgrimage evra’ yeeah. You attended the historical societies meetings and you had a vote in the color palates we chose, so hush up with the criticism.

Hmm, I must have had a lot on my mind. The Mayor said by way of an apology.

Anyway, why are you dressed in that get up and driving the ambulance? Miss Myra said waving her hand up and down at the mayor’s clothes. You look like a sideways convict.

Mayor Slocomb always felt exhausted while waiting for Miss Myra to finish a sentence. She often fantasized about being able to push a button, fast-forwarding her speech.

As you know, I’ve been driving the ambulance until we can fill the position, again.

Miss Myra nodded.

Well, Mrs. Petit had another false alarm. Bless her heart, she thought she was having a heart attack, but it turned out to just be gas. Now, I’ve gotta get over to the softball field in Slade to call the game, the Mayor said, relieved to see Betty Lishman, owner of Betty’s Burgers, Bar-B-Que and Beauty skittering across the street, clicking her pumps and holding her cigarette away from the frills of her puffy red dress. As she watched her run, Mayor Slocomb suddenly realized, if Betty would wear sensible shoes and change her high red hairdo to something more aerodynamic, she would be a real fast runner.

The good thing about Betty was she was always a strategic distraction for Miss Myra and provided the Mayor with the opportunity to sneak away.

Oh brother, Mayor would you just look at Betty in that get up! Mayor…? Where’d she go? Miss Myra said indignantly.

Miss Hannah answered in her light whispery voice, I can’t rightly say, honey. She pointed to the empty space beside her. She was just right here.

Hi girls, Betty said while batting her eyes. Are my eyelashes on straight?

Miss Myra glared at her and said, Dear, this isn’t a reproduction of the old west. This is a pilgrimage of the southeast in the mid 1800's. You look like you just walked into a saloon to deal a poka’ game and sit in strange men’s laps.

Betty rolled her eyes and said, Miss Myra, there were gaming houses in the southeast during that period. For crying out loud didn’t you read Gone with the Wind? Excuse me, I have to go see Mrs. Taggert, Betty stomped over to the porch of the store where another group of people stood.

The group on the porch began to gradually turn their heads towards the north end of town. A familiar figure pulling a child’s wagon was slowly pacing towards them. Oh my Lord, slipped through the lips of several of the ladies. The television crew and Miss Myra turned to see what was drawing their attention.

Miss Myra muttered to Miss Hannah, Oh well, of course, let’s just have the town witch pick this moment to show up. Let’s hope she’s not haulin’ road kill in that silly wagon, today.

Mrs. Effelia Mahira Bell, better known as Miss Effie, was bumping her wagon across the parking lot. Her tattered straw hat with a decorative navy blue cloth mum shaded her face and covered her brown streaked white hair, which was styled in a chignon. She was wearing a turquoise plaid cotton dress and Converse high top tennis shoes. Stopping at the water hose curled up by the edge of the porch, she slowly bent and raised the hose pointed away from her face, wiped the mouth of the hose with her handkerchief and turned on the water. After taking many long sips, she put the hose down and turned off the water. Sensing she was being watched, she stared back at the crowd then pulled her wagon around to the front of the store. Looking up she said, Good afternoon. What’s going on and why are ya’ll dressed to the nines in outdated attire?

With a panic stricken face, Cora Taggert, co-owner of the grocery store, caught Miss Myra’s daggered gaze, rushed down off the porch to Miss Effie, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up the steps trying to get her out of sight before the T.V. interviewer could get to her. They always go for the loonies, she thought to herself

Why it’s that silly pilgrimage we have every year. Nothing you’d be interested in, Cora said to Miss Effie as she was reaching for the door.

Before they could get into the store, a television camera had been turned on and was pointed directly at Miss Effie. The reporter had positioned himself strategically close, causing her to lean away from him as he held the microphone between them.

Hi. This is Max Jordan of WJTV, Jackson, the reporter said while looking into the camera. Ma’am, are you going to take part in the pilgrimage, today?

Miss Effie looked into the camera and back to the reporter thinking how rude this young man was not to ask her permission off camera and said, What on earth?! Who are you and what in the world do you think you’re doing?

The reporter looked at the camera and laughed tensely. Again, I’m Max Jordan of WJTV, Jackson, and we are here to cover the 1977 pilgrimage taking place in Conway ,one of the oldest and most charming towns in the state of Mississippi. Every year a parade is held in the town square, where people who are opening their homes and gardens to the public for this one day dress in antebellum attire and pretend to go about their business in the shops, then get in their horse drawn carriages and encourage people to follow them to their homes to see how life was lived at this time in history. A booth is set up by Taggert’s Grocery to purchase tickets for the home tours. All proceeds go to the local historical society. Today, WJTV will be here to cover all the events.

Yeah, I’d say you’re covering it all right, I could use some of that fertilizer coming out of your mouth in my garden. When ya’ get done here, come on over, Effie said with an impish grin.

Uh…No ma’am, I don’t think you understand, his face reddened.

The handsome features of Miss Effie’s face tightened and her hazel eyes shone brightly. The rest of the crowd was standing in stunned silence. An uh-oh fell from Cora’s husband Lant’s lips.

Young fella’, you need to start asking permission before you go sticking a camera in people’s faces. Now you get that microphone away from me before I hog tie you with that cord!

At that, Miss Effie pushed on the Wonder Bread door bar and stomped into the store with Mrs. Taggert hot on her heels holding up her hoop skirt with her wienie curls bouncing up and down around her face. She positioned herself behind the counter and put on her glasses that hung from a string of fake pearls, indicating that she was ready for business. As Lant quietly placed Effie’s wagon just inside the door, she occupied herself dusting while she watched her customer through the bubble mirror that hung above the cash register.

Miss Effie walked through the store picking up flour, salt, sugar, Hostess Twinkies and other items. Eventually she worked her way to the back of the store in front of the white refrigerator cabinets where the meats and cheeses were stored and called, Yoo-hoo, Mrs. Taggert…

The Cora flounced to the back of the store with her mint green gown bouncing up and down with each step. Still holding the feather duster in her hand she made the turn behind the cases, placed her hands on her hips and said, Miss Effie, that man just wanted you to answer some questions.

Well, he should have asked if he could ask before he shoved that microphone in my face. Now, I’ll take a whole fryer, a half pound of hoop cheese and a half pound of American cheese. And you know Cora, you shouldn’t be wearing that corset as skinny as you are. I bet you could run around in a rain storm and not be hit by one drop. It almost makes me wanna’ come back there and make you a big old sandwich.

Mrs. Taggert tilted her head sideways and drummed her fingers on the counter top then said through gritted teeth, Are you done?

Yes, that’s all for back here, I’ll be picking out the rest while you get that.

Cora looked at the duster in her hand and threw it to a corner on the floor and washed her hands in the sink against the back wall. While she prepared the items, she considered how daft this lady was. Miss Effie had many chickens in her yard and here she was buying a fryer. Who ever heard of having chickens as pets? She didn’t know why anyone put up with this old bag other than the fact she made people nervous For years, people had been talking about the strange ceremonies Effie had in her backyard; her picking up dead animals from the road and carrying them home in that ridiculous wagon of hers. Not to mention, people had over heard her carrying on a conversation as if He’s standing right there answering back. To think, her dead husband left all of that property and money in her name. Some of the tellers down at the bank hinted she was rich as Croesus and here she is pulling a wagon into town and she drives a beat up old truck when she traveled further afield. Lord only knew what went on in that head of hers’. Being the granddaughter of a Choctaw Indian Holy Man doesn’t cover her kind of crazy.

Eddie James has been loyal to the Bell’s since he was a little boy. Now he’s left to work for this nutty old pain in the backside. Eddie said she helps run the place. Miss Effie couldn’t help run a hamster cage. Mrs. Taggert inadvertently snorted at this last thought.

I beg your pardon? asked Miss Effie.

Oh nothing, just my sinuses are acting up, answered Mrs. Taggert, her face reddening.

While Miss Effie was inside shopping, Miss Myra walked over to the reporter to hopefully smooth his feathers and tell him more about the pilgrimage parade.

Excuse me, uh, Max?

The reporter turned to look at her.

My name is Myra Hancock. I am president of the Conway Historical Society and I can probably shed some more light on today’s events.

He smiled back at her and held the microphone up for her then cued the camera. He introduced Miss Myra and she spoke.

"Throughout the south, towns and cities hold pilgrimages of the antebellum period. These fulfill a need for people to see