However, now it was time to leave the pasta marinara, the strawwrapped jugs of dark red chianti, the sleek green bottles of mineral water (I was being quite careful not to succumb to any unspeakable maladies that might ruin my tour), the golden glow of Tuscany, and the verdant foothills of the Alps.
I consulted the table of contents and flipped to page 311. Yes, the sun-drenched beaches of the French Riviera were calling me. The glitter of the casino, the yachts, the furs and diamonds. Monte Carlo, where the rich mingled with the commoners and anything was possible.
"You'd just have to think anything's possible these days," Mrs. Jim Bob opined loudly. "Why, the next thing we know, women'll be wearing pants to church and little children will be running wild in Sunday school. Don't you agree, Brother Verber? I mean, what's the world coming to anymore?" She stopped to blot the corner of her mouth with a pristine hankie, then gazed sternly at her companion, who seemed a little distant even though he was sitting not five feet away on her newly re-covered divan. "Don't you agree?" she said, turning up the volume.
Brother Verber looked up with a guilty twitch. "You know I always agree with you, Sister Barbara. You are the beacon of my flock, the light that shines so pure and bright, it makes the sinners' eyes cross when they face it. And not to mention a most attractive woman."
Mrs. Jim Bob smiled tightly, because, of course, it was all true, what he'd said, but she was keenly aware of the sin of pride-among others-and wasn't about to allow herself to be led astray. "Girls playing with boys! It's a scandal to even think about it."
The images that flashed across Brother Verber's mind had to do with girls playing with boys, but he figured that wasn't at all what she was thinking of, and he whipped out his handkerchief to wipe away the sudden sweat.
"I felt it my Christian duty to have a word with Joyce Lambertino," Mrs. Jim Bob continued, oblivious to his discomfort. "I marched myself up to the door, fully expecting to be invited in for a nice visit, but Joyce wouldn't even let me inside the house. She said the kitchen floor was slippery. I knew better than that, Brother Verber. Better than that."
"You did?"
"I wasn't born this morning. From the way she was blocking the doorway, it was as plain as the nose on your face-which you might want to tend to, by the way-that her house was a mess and she was embarrassed to let me see how slovenly she was. I have always had my doubts about her, what with her wearing her hair like a high-school girl."
Brother Verber tut-tutted, peeked at his watch, and wondered exactly why he was sitting on the newly re-covered divan in Sister Barbara's front room when he could be using the time more profitably. When he'd arrived, he'd hoped for a slice of chocolate layer cake or a warm, fresh cookie, but she hadn't even offered iced tea. He cleared his throat, trying to sound a mite dry, and said, "I'm real glad to hear how you tried to steer Joyce back onto the path of righteousness. Would you mind repeating one more time how she was stumbling into sin?"
Mrs. Jim Bob's nostrils flared, but not so much that you'd notice unless you were watching real close. "Joyce's husband is coaching the baseball team my Jim Bob organized. She wanted her little niece Saralee to play with the boys. I happened to overhear Jim Bob and Larry Joe discussing it, and I felt it my duty to make it clear that we are not going to have that sort of thing here in Maggody. Some folks have been flirting with sin ever since that wicked, wicked lawyer woman came here awhile back and told wives they could stop fixing biscuits from scratch and start wearing the pants in the family. The next thing you know, we were neck deep in murder and destruction and the erosion of our Christian values."
"Let us get down on our knees and pray," Brother Verber cut in smoothly. "Just recalling that unpleasantness has opened the door a crack for Satan to sneak in. Ah, could I wet my whistle before we begin?"
"In a minute." She waited while Brother Verber, who was sliding down the edge of the divan, caught himself and got settled back where he belonged. "There is something else I have to tell you about so you can put a stop to it. Edwina Spitz happened to mention that a few weeks ago she was taking her evening stroll down Finger Lane and halted out by the hydrangeas in front of Eilene and Earl's house to catch her breath."
From the intensity of her stare, Brother Verber was aware that some response was required of him. He tugged on his nose for a minute. "I am most glad to hear Edwina's enjoying good health," he hazarded.
"That is not the issue, Brother Verber. I am going to have to describe a very lurid scene now, and I'd like to think you're clear in your mind that I'm only repeating what Edwina told me, and that she was only repeating what she accidentally overheard from behind the hydrangeas."
"It's clear as spring water," he assured her promptly, sitting up straight and preparing his handkerchief. "It's your Christian duty to repeat this to me. No matter how difficult it is, don't try to spare me by skipping anything, Sister Barbara. Not one tiny thing." Mrs. Jim Bob related the shameful story of Kevin Buchanon and Dahlia O'Neill's disrespectable encounter on the porch swing. Rather than skip anything, she may have embellished it so that he could appreciate just how terrible and depraved and lustful and truly sinful it was.
And he did. She finally took pity on his bright red face and heaving shoulders and went to get him some mint iced tea. When she came back, he'd mopped away most of the sweat and his eyes looked a little less glassy.
"So what are you going to do?" she demanded.
Brother Verber gulped down the tea. His voice still was on the high side as he said, "What do you reckon I ought to do, Sister Barbara?"
"Something," Mrs. Jim Bob replied, her arms locked and her foot tapping away like a woodpecker. "Both of those young people attend the Voice of the Almighty on a regular basis. I know for a fact Kevin has a lapel pin for not missing Sunday school for ten years. Dahlia's granny lets her miss once in a while, but I almost always am obliged to nod to them after services."
"Should I kick them out?" Brother Verber asked, bewildered. "You know, excommunicate them?"
"Excommunicate them out of the church? Of course not! That would not be the charitable, forgiving thing to do, Brother Verber, and I'm shocked you could say such a thing. Who knows what they might do next if they thought no one was minding their behavior, that no one was deeply concerned with teaching them to restrain their lust?"
"I could denounce them from the pulpit, I 'spose. Tell the whole congregation about this shameful scene and ask everyone to pray for their souls right then and there."
Mrs. Jim Bob pondered this one for a second, imagining the two faces when their disgusting actions were aired in front of a good percentage of the town's folks. Reluctantly, she realized Edwina would be in her regular seat at the end of the third pew and would wonder how certain graphic details had crept into the story. "No, we can't have that sort of thing said aloud in the Assembly Hall where God can hear us. We'd be obliged to exorcise the building to get rid of the stench. What you need to do is call them in for premarital counseling, Brother Verber. Instruct them about how decent, God-fearing, betrothed couples behave. Warn them about going to hell for all eternity if they even think about bestial practices that no good Christian couple would ever engage in."
"What if they won't come?" Brother Verber asked humbly, doing his best not to let his mind stray to his study material under his sofa, where bestiality was almost the order of the day.
"You just tell them that if they won't, you'll be forced to try to save their souls anyways by speaking out during the Sunday service. I do believe you can make them understand, don't you?"