Mary Ruth Miller
Chilhowee
is a contemporary southern novel set in East Tennessee. The main character, Beth Ledbetter, is an English professor who finds herself dealing with circumstances foreign to her chosen lifestyle. After the drowning deaths of her parents, she becomes something of a detective when she determines she must rescue her grandparents from exploitation and deal with a group of right-wing militia who, under her father’s auspices are trying to establish a headquarters disguised as a boys’ home. Her own professional and personal future are involved.
Family relationships, modern applications of Shakespeare, newspaper reporting, teaching, Alzheimer’s disease, nursing homes, southern churches, good eating, nostalgia, bomb threats, friendships, and career choices–all combine to make this many-faceted novel a good read.
Mary Ruth Miller is a retired college English professor, living now in North Carolina after a career in Florida, Georgia, and Tennessee. Courses in Shakespeare were favorites among the several literature and writing courses she taught. After retiring she has become a world traveler. She also enjoys reading, writing, and attending concerts of classical music. A graduate of Duke University, she has published professional works, but Chilhowee is her first novel.
Chapter Six
Beth and Judy returned to the church in the funeral car with Nathaniel and Kristen, and Bonnie followed in her car.
As they rode, Kristen spoke: "This should've been me and Nat, not Bruce and Allison." She wiped her eyes. Nat just shook his head.
"The ways of the Lord are mysterious," said Beth.
"Life cannot be predicted," commented Judy. "Perhaps it's better that way."
In the fellowship hall the women's group had set up tables decorated with spring flowers and a bountiful dinner --ham, chicken pie, a green bean casserole, four salads, hot rolls with butter, a chocolate cake, two pies (apple and chess), tea (both sweetened and unsweetened), and coffee.
"What a feast!" exclaimed Judy.
"This is what we like to do for families on the occasion of a funeral," Edie Phelps told her. She and Dick served as hosts for the gathering.
All, still shocked by the disaster, sympathized with the older Ledbetters. Kristen was tearful, but Nat had his eyes on the food. Beth, maintaining her composure, introduced Judy and Bonnie to all who hadn't met them. She thanked everyone for coming.
"We wish you still lived here," said Dick. "Your roots are here, y'know."
"Yes, but my work is in New York now. I'll be coming back. It doesn't take long to fly from New York to Knoxville."
"It may take you a while to settle your parents' affairs," he said.
"Yes, I'm beginning to realize that," Beth agreed.
Gradually the friends departed. Beth and Judy drove to the motel in Judy's car, which she had parked at the church. Dick took the Ledbetters back to Shadowlands to rest while Edie remained to clean up. Bonnie followed Beth and Judy.
Judy spoke. "Who was that woman in the slinky black dress at the service? She certainly seemed upset."
"I don't know her," Beth replied. "Perhaps Edie does."
"From what I overheard at the cemetery and when I went to the restroom at the church, there's a lot of talk going on," said Judy. "You may have a lot more to learn."
"By now I think I wouldn't be surprised."
Seated inside, Bonnie began: "Beth, I hate to add any more burdens to those you're already facing. But over at our church and at school I've heard some things about that proposed Chilhowee project your folks were involved in."
"What things?"
"Well, it's supposed to be a home for troubled boys, but from the comments I've heard, there may be a lot more to it than that."
"Oh?"
"I'm now on the board of governors at our church. When one of the project's directors asked us to contribute to the fund drive, he explained that the boys might receive some paramilitary training."
"Paramilitary training? For what?" Judy was curious.
"At first for discipline and as a way to build group cohesiveness. Then for survival."
"Survival?" Beth was puzzled.
"Yes. There're some people around here who're afraid Christians will be persecuted by the government. They see Apocalypse coming and want to be prepared."
"Are they serious? How can they believe such a thing?" Beth asked.
"I've never heard of Apocalypse," Judy said. "What is it?"
Bonnie explained the mindset of some of the people she worked with. "They think the world as we know it is coming to an end. That it's being overpopulated and will be taken over by blacks and Moslems. They think the United Nations will become the ruling power and replace our government. These folks consider our government corrupt. They see signs of danger in such things as growth in the use of computers, even automated teller machines."
"Such persons have vivid imaginations," Judy commented.
Beth could agree that the government was looking after the wealthy class. Still, she was appalled. She had not encountered such a persecution complex in New York. Her university teaching job did not expose her to such.
Bonnie explained further: "The fund-raisers for Chilhowee are playing not only on people's charity and interest in rescuing boys, but also on people's fears. Even little old ladies with hardly any income are contributing. Having such an institution as Chilhowee in this area they see somehow as a protection for themselves and their values. It would thus serve a double purpose."
"Whew! Chilhowee should be stopped! But how?" Beth wondered.
"Perhaps," said Bonnie, "the newspapers need to get into the fund-raising campaign and publicize what's back of it."
"I don't know how much more I can take," Beth moaned. "Now it looks as though the memorial to Ken was only a part of the scheme."
"It may be that the purpose got out of hand when those paramilitary guys and the right-wing fund-raisers got involved. They're called 'America Always.'"
"Obviously Daddy would have needed more money than he could have raised himself. Then operating costs would be an ongoing expense."
"There you're talking big bucks," Judy commented.
"It's about time for me to go now," said Bonnie. "And you need to get over to Shadowlands."
"Yes. Since we didn't receive guests at the funeral home, this is an opportunity for people to visit with Granddaddy and Grandmother. Many of their friends can't get out at night now. But you will keep in touch, won't you, Bonnie?"
"Sure. Let's get together when you come down again."
"Good. I'll call you. Goodbye."
In the attractive lounge at Shadowlands the staff had set up tables with two kinds of coffee and three different cakes. The potted plants and flowers which Nathaniel and Kristen had received served as decorations. The lounge was a good meeting place with chairs and sofas arranged in groups.
Nathaniel and Kristen sat in opposite sofas, the men tending to speak to Nathaniel and the women to Kristen.
"It sure is too bad your family're gone while you're still alive," said Stewart Hill to Nathaniel. "That's not the way things usually work out." His gnarled hands caressed the grip of his cane.
"No, I reckon not," replied Nathaniel.
"I'm glad Beth came home for the funeral," said Jill Page to Kristen. "She hasn't been here lately, has she?" Jill's gray hair was done up in a bun on top of her head. She was not a member of Bruce's church.
"No, but I'm sure glad to see her. You know she's all we have left now."
"Will she keep on living in New York, you suppose?" asked Letitia Bonn, her well-groomed nails noticeable as she held her coffee cup.
"I think so," Kristen responded. "She has a good job there."
"What about you and Nathaniel?" asked Lillian Tisdale.
"I think we'd best just stay here in Dustu where all our friends are. I don't have any desire to live in New York."
"Good," said Lillian, her warm brown eyes flashing. "We want you to stay here. Beth can come visit you."
"Nat, what will happen to Bruce and Allison's house?" asked Josh Stokes, one of Nat's neighbors and oldest friends in Dustu.
"I dunno. Somebody'll have to see about it."
"When the church gets a new pastor, maybe he'd like to buy it. It's convenient to the church."
"P'rhaps," said Nathaniel.
The socializing continued, cakes and coffee the elements of this communion. Nathaniel did the best he could, even when he did not fully comprehend the conversation. Beth and Judy sat to one side. Joyce Whittle walked over.
"Hello, Beth. You remember me?"
"Of course I do. How could I forget an old neighbor?" Joyce had more gray in her dark hair than Beth remembered, but she had the same white teeth and ready smile.
"Mrs. Whittle, have you met my friend Judy Few?"
"Not yet. You're from New York, Judy?"
"Yes. I teach with Beth at N. Y. U. I came down to be with her until Sunday."
"I know she's glad to have you. Do you have to go back on Sunday also, Beth?"
"Yes, ma'am. But I'll need to come back again during our spring holidays."
"Good. When you get here, give me a call. I'd like to have you over. You too, Judy, if you can come."
"Thank you," said Judy. "I probably won't get back again that soon."
"I'll be glad to call you," said Beth.
"We can have a good visit," said Joyce. "You're staying at the motel instead of at home?"
"Yes, ma'am. I didn't want to stay there and use the folks' things. You know I moved out after Ken's death."
"Yes. And we've missed you. I guess you would feel funny staying at home now."
Beth knew Joyce kept up with everything that went on in the community, and she liked to gossip.
It was five o'clock when Beth and Judy returned to the motel to rest and talk.
"This Chilhowee business has more to it than I first thought," said Beth.
"Looks that way," agreed Judy. "And you haven't talked with the lawyer yet."
"No. Maybe Jeb Holloway can tell me more too. I also want to talk some more with Grandmother."
"Tomorrow, after she and you have rested up."
