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That Wasn't Chicken

By Linda P. Kozar

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Chapter 1—Praise the Lord and Pass the Potatoes
Spinning. The room twirled in circles, like an out of control merry-go-round. The nausea didn’t take long to kick in after that, and I soon found myself knees-down on the bathroom floor, “driving the porcelain bus,” as my best friend Sue Jan was fond of saying.
After a few tentative frantic knocks at the door, Hudson burst into the bathroom, worry in his voice. “Lovita, what’s wrong? I heard—”
But I was too busy tossing my cookies to answer my husband. Hugging the toilet, I tried to answer, but the contents of my stomach had other ideas.
“Oh, honey, you’re sick?” He turned on the faucet and ran cold water over a clean washcloth. Wringing it out, he waited til’ I was done, then handed the cool cloth to me.
Though my stomach was still doing somersaults, I looked up at the chiseled face I adored and whispered “thanks,” forcing my mouth to turn up into a weak smile.
I couldn’t help admiring his masculine jawline, sleek dark hair and gorgeous brown eyes locked onto me—all dressed up in in my favorite green plaid pajamas and a white robe. Without makeup and sporting crazy bed-head hair, I was certain my complexion emanated its own peculiar shade of complementary green.
“You should keep your distance.” I pointed to his navy blue suit. “I-I don’t want your clothes to get all messed up. You’re on your way to work.”
He shook his head. “I don’t care about my suit.”
“But you care about your client. You have to be in court.” I fought back the rising tide of nausea. “That important case you told me about—”
“Maybe you ate something that didn’t agree with you.” He snapped his fingers. “We had those sausages at Sue Jan and Monroe’s last night. They were a bit too greasy for my liking. I’ll bet that’s it.” He put his hand on his chin. “You know, there’s something about the way those things taste. Sure, they’re good, but sort of different. The taste reminds me of something else. Duck, maybe? I don’t know.”
Everyone in town had been raving over the sausages at Sammy’s Smokehouse, a new barbecue place, so Sue Jan and Monroe had the sausage dinner and fixings delivered and invited us over.
“Oh no . . .” With the mention of greasy sausages, my poor stomach couldn’t hold out another second.
I glanced up as soon as I was able.
His brow furrowed. “Oh Lovita, maybe we shouldn’t have gone. You’ve been following a healthy diet for a while. Maybe you shocked your body eating those spicy, greasy—”
Palm to the sky, I pleaded. “Stop. Honey, please, please don’t mention that again.”
“Sorry.” He cocked his head to the side. “I hope and pray you don’t have food poisoning. I’ve come down with food poisoning on a few mission trips.”
I swiped at my face again with the washcloth. “Hudson.”
He grimaced. “Sorry again. I didn’t mean—I shouldn’t have mentioned.” He turned and ran some cold water at the sink and handed me a fresh washcloth. “Can I, uh, can I get you an antacid or some water or something?”
“Hudson.”
“I wonder if you have a temperature?” He opened the medicine cabinet and peered in. “Where’s the thermometer?”
“No, I don’t think I have a temp. But you need to listen.”
Intent on finding the thermometer, I knew his mind was focused on the search.
“I’m really sorry I mentioned that food to you. What was I thinking?” He poked through the contents of the cabinet. “I don’t see the thing. Do you have any idea where it could be?”
I lifted myself to the edge of the bathtub, sat down and sighed. “Hudson, I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you.”
He spun around and came to my side. “What is it? What’s wrong? I should have helped you up. What kind of husband am I?” He knelt down and pressed the fresh washcloth to my forehead. “Tell me what?”
I touched his cheek. “I don’t have a temperature, silly. We’re going to have a baby. ”

* * *
You might as well know that our little town isn’t what it used to be. For one thing, Wachita, Texas is not so little anymore. We’ve had a growth spurt, more like explosion of families moving in and setting up new businesses, and all because the neighboring town of Bentley grew too big for its britches.
To make matters worse, some rich fellows are almost done building some kind of hunt club on the edge of town, though I can’t imagine why those fancy folk chose Wachita, of all places.
Mind you, I’m not complaining, except for the fact that I can barely keep up with who’s who and what’s what any more. When Sue Jan’s husband, Monroe, got elected mayor last year, she thought of the perfect motto to promote Wachita, “Little town, big dreams.” Now our town isn’t so little, and our big dreams are turning into big nightmares.
“Earth to Lovita?” Sue Jan Madson pursed her melon-tinted lips.
“What?” Startled, my hand upset a glass of iced tea, almost knocking it over.
Her light brown hair, subtly highlighted, was turned under in an attractive shoulder-length bob. No more Crazy Cherry Reds or Yam-tastic hair colors for her. Sue Jan was well on her way to looking and dressing the part of a politician’s wife.
She reached over and snapped her fingers. “Wake up, Ita. There’s a yummy plate of barbecued brisket in front of you and you’re lost in space. That little one in your tummy needs to eat, you know. The doctor said so.” She accentuated that thought by taking another bite of brisket and smacking her lips.
“So that’s really how you told him?” Jolene leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table.
“What?” I squinted.
Jolene McNulty, one of the hairstylists in our shop, had invited us to dinner to celebrate her son’s new job. Zane had finally scored a regular job as a barbecue chef at Sammy’s Smokehouse, one of a handful of brand new eateries in town. Landing in and out of trouble over the years, the boy had given up life on the shady side for a more conventional means of earning a buck. Jolene and her bank account couldn’t be happier. Things had gotten so bad over the years she’d figured bail money into her regular budget.
So in spite of the beauty shop being the busiest it’s ever been, we decided to close up a bit early and support her. I took a second to admire Jolene’s hair—a gingery shade, with medium brown undertones. Better than the bleached bone color she used to favor. And she’d given up the fake bake, Oompah Loompa tan too. Wonder of wonders.
Sue Jan nudged me. “Silly, she’s asking you about how you told Hudson you got a taco in the oven.”
Jolene choked down her laughter.
I folded my arms. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
She shrugged and kept on eating. “Sure it does. We live in Texas, don’t we?”
No use wasting time trying to make sense of Sue Jan’s logic.
I turned to Jolene. “Yup, that’s how it happened.” I sighed. “The whole plan we came up with about giving him a bunch of little gift bags filled with clues after his birthday dinner didn’t work.”
“Now refresh my memory. How was that supposed to go down?” Jolene set a freckled hand under her chin.
Sue Jan interrupted. “The first gift was supposed to be a vintage record ‘Shake, Rattle and Roll.’”
“And,” I continued, “The second gift was a candy bar.”
“A Baby Ruth,” Sue Jan winked.
“What about the third?” Jolene’s eyes grew wide.
I smiled. “The third was my favorite—a jar of Prego spaghetti sauce.”
Jolene threw her head back in a hearty laugh. “Good one, Lovita! Good one.”
“Lovita?” Sue Jan snorted indignation. “That was my idea.”
“Oh, sorry.” Jolene shrugged.
“Actually, Jolene, I think Sue Jan wanted to say she found that cute idea on one of those mommy blogs she visits.”
Sue Jan promptly stuck her tongue out at me and turned to Jolene. “But then Lovita got morning sickness and tossed it and lost it.” She tittered. “So much for that plan.”
As if on culinary cue, the three of us, four counting the taco in my oven, dug into our food—a mucho gusto moment.
Sammy’s Barbecue Smokehouse was located right down the street from our Crown of Glory Beauty Salon and Boutique. Though the restaurant was big by Wachita standards, every inch of it was filled with hungry customers. Roasted chicken, sausages, brisket and pork ribs were the specials.
Next to the salad bar, a barbecue station offered pickles, onions, tomatoes, chopped jalapenos, and slices of white bread, as well as big vats of sauce in mild, medium and “atomic.” I smiled. Slathered in enough sauce, the other customers looked like extras in a zombie movie as they gnawed on racks of ribs.
Jolene made a sweeping gesture around the room. “Will you look at all these folks? Zane’s gonna knock their socks off with his good cooking.”
“I agree, Jo.” Sue Jan swiped at her mouth with a fresh napkin. “These are the best ribs I’ve ever tasted.”
In the past year, Sue Jan and I had embarked on a regime of diet and exercise. Though our husbands preferred not to give up meat, the two of us had stuck to a part-time vegetarian diet with the goal of losing weight and looking great. Though there were detours at times, for instance, the minute we set foot inside a Mexican restaurant or whenever we visited our favorite Wachita Chinese restaurant, the Wok of Ages, Sue Jan and I stayed dedicated enough to finally fit into size fourteen clothes right off the rack.
When the OB/GYN gave me the baby news, she also recommended a change in diet since my blood was low on iron. Though I’d broken my not-so-firm vegan vow with Sue Jan’s dreaded sausages a few days ago, ugh, the time had come to venture into carnivorous territory again. I lifted a forkful of sliced brisket to my mouth, closed my eyes and began to chew. But the brisket melted in my mouth.
“Ummm.” The tender taste of perfectly barbecued meat hit my tongue like a silver bullet, destroying all aspirations of becoming a vegetarian. “Sooooo good.”
“I knew you’d give in.” Sue Jan winked. “I did too, Ita.” She sat back in her chair gazing at the empty brisket/sausage/short ribs plate in front of her. “Sure, we lost weight eating rabbit food, but face it, you and I ain’t bunnies. I miss eating roast beef and burgers and hotdogs and pork chops and sausages and ham and . . .”
Jolene karate-chopped the table. “You both look so good. Don’t throw it all away.“
Flattered at first, Sue Jan waved at her, “I ain’t no Barbie, but I ain’t big enough to eat hay neither.”
Jolene pleaded. “You too lost enough weight to make two other people.”
Though my mouth wanted to issue a snappy comeback, I knew Jolene was right. Besides that, she meant well. Sue Jan and I had lost enough weight to make two other people. Maybe three. I put down my fork and smiled.
“Thank you, Jo. I’ll accept that as a compliment. And no worries, contrary to what Sue Jan said, I plan on keeping lots of vegetables in my diet after the baby is born. But after a taste of this dee-lishus barbecue, I know I’ve got to add more protein to balance things out. Plus, I have to agree with Sue Jan, I kind of missed eating meat, especially barbeque.”
Sue Jan sniffed. “Jo, this ain’t the first time she rediscovered meat. We had her and Hudson over for dinner and those sausages . . .”
Hand instantly to mouth, I stared at her, hoping she would see my face as pale and drained as it suddenly felt. “Stop—now.”
“But.”
I shook my head. “Don’t mention that again. I-I mean it.” At the risk of offending Sue Jan, I had to stop her. Though I’d shared the truth about missing meat in my diet, I knew there was no way I’d be eating anything akin to a sausage again anytime soon, at least for the duration of my pregnancy. The very thought made me want to hurl.
“Well, uh,” Jolene struggled to save the conversation. “What about Hudson? Is he a-a—whatchamacallit too?” Jolene’s eyes grew wide.
“A vegan?” I wiped my mouth. “No, like I said, none of us are.”
Sue Jan giggled. “I never got used to that word. Sounds like you’re from Las Vegas, or another planet.” She lifted her hands. “Greetings earthlings, I am from the planet Vegan. My head looks like a collie-flower.”
When she and Jolene finally stopped laughing, I answered Jolene’s question. “Hudson would never give up meat and honestly, I don’t think I can either.”
Jolene shook her head. “I really thought you gave it up.”
Sue Jan eyed my plate. “Speaking of meat, Ita, you gonna finish that last little piece of brisket?”
I shook my head, “Go on, you can have it.”
“Thanks.” She speared and inhaled it in the same breath. She pointed her fork at our friend. “That son of yours, Jolene,“ Sue Jan sat back. “If he keeps cranking out food this good, he’ll go far.”
Jolene smiled wide. “Thanks. That means a lot to me. You know what I’ve been through over the years with him. And now he’s got a new job, and a steady girlfriend.” Her voice cracked. “For the first time in a long time, I got a little hope he’ll make something of his life.”
I touched her arm. “Of course he will. We’ve been praying for that boy too long not to get any results.”
Jolene brushed away tears. “Thank you both for all them ‘flare prayers’ over the years. Zane sure needed ‘em.”
“You’re not kidding.” Sue Jan shook her head. “No offense, but your boy’s done some crazy stuff. Sometimes he’s crazier than popcorn on a hot stove.”
Jolene’s lips pressed together for a moment. Times like these made me wish Sue Jan had a filter on her mouth. No mother wants to hear that about her own child—even if it’s true.
“But now he’s off to a new start.” I held up my glass of tea. “To new beginnings.”
Eyes glazed with tears, Jolene smiled and held up her glass, “New beginnings.”
Sue Jan clinked her glass into ours. “Ditto.”
High time for a new subject of discussion, the crowded restaurant provided a perfect example. Swiveling my neck in a half-moon scan of the room, I shared what was on my mind. “I was just thinking about how much Wachita is changing.”
Sue Jan took a sip of her iced tea. “Hmmmph, well if you ask me, that’s a good thing ‘Ita. This town was a Podunk, no-where’s-ville before Monroe got elected. Now it’s highlighted on the map and so is my husband.” She looked to the right and to the left. “Can you two keep a secret?”
I shot a glance at Jolene, a slight smile curling her lips. The irony of the question took a few moments to sink in. Everyone in town knew, well, at least everyone in the old Wachita used to know that Sue Jan was incapable of keeping even a simple secret, like a recipe for instance, or a surprise birthday party. So for her to ask us, well . . . ”
“Monroe’s got political perspirat . . .I mean aspirations.”
“Such as?”
She winked. “He’s thinking he might be a judge or maybe run for state representative or-or even for the senate one day.” Sue Jan took a sip of her iced tea. “I know what you’re both thinking. I just finished decorating his office. And it took forever to have that plaster bust of him made in Mexico.”
The plaster bust of Monroe was a subject of conversation around town. Not that Sue Jan cared to know. I tried to tell her numerous times.
The bust looked more like Pancho Villa meets the Lucky Charms leprechaun. Did I mention the artist painted it too? That’s right, in vivid colors, complete with cartoonish hair, rounded myopic eyes and oversized eyeglasses.
I smiled. “Well, I can’t think of anyone in politics I’d trust more, except for—”
“Hudson?” She pointed a red-lacquered fingernail at me. “Course, I knew you’d say that.”
Hudson and Monroe had worked at the same law firm in Bentley until Monroe decided to run for mayor of Wachita to oppose a crooked politician by the name of Wiley Butz. Long story short, Monroe won, the town of Wachita was saved, and even though Wiley skipped town, the law soon caught up with him. The would-be mayor traded his fancy Men’s Wearhouse suits for an orange jumpsuit.
Sue Jan studied my face and gulped. “But, ah, Hudson’s not interested in running for public office, is he? I mean, because, oh sure, he’s be good and he’d probably git elected real easy ‘cause he’s so easy on the eyes and all, and women voters love a politician who’s easy on the eyes. Not that my husband ain’t all that and a bucket of cotton candy, but still . . . ”
“So you don’t think my husband’s as qualified as Monroe?”
Sue Jan sucked in her breath, eyes wild. “Is Hudson gonna run one day?” Her face blanched.
Jolene and I burst out laughing. “No, thank goodness, you know my husband isn’t interested in running for public office. But I couldn’t resist needling you Suey.”
“Lovita Mae Horton Taylor! I oughta read you the riot act for putting me on like that.” She reached for a tissue in her purse and patted imaginary perspiration off her forehead. “You know how stressed out I am these days, what with taking care of the kids and running the shop and being first lady of Wachita an’ all. I’ve had to cut a lot of ribbons lately, opening stores and businesses and whatnot.”
Besides all her mayoral wifely duties, Sue Jan gave birth to twins almost a year ago—a boy and a girl named Marshal and Emma.
Cute as June bugs, the two of them.
And Sue Jan and Monroe couldn’t be happier, but as for the shop, I had no idea what she was talking about. I took care of running the business end of things. Though I guess maybe cutting ribbons to open all the new businesses in town could be exhausting.
“Howdy.” Charla, Sue Jan’s cousin’s daughter, a petite 'lil thing with a pink balloon of bubble gum half hiding her face, sat down. The drinks on the table rattled as the bubble popped—the scent of bubblegum and cheap perfume overwhelming us all at once.
Her blonde hair, cut in an attractive bob, Charla greeted our table with a smile. She had the prettiest white teeth you ever did see. The young woman turned heads wherever she went. But when she opened up her mouth to speak, she might as well have had a hayseed sticking out the side of her mouth. The girl was country to the core.
“Sorry I’m late. She removed the gum from her mouth and wadded it up in a paper napkin. “Took me a while to set Lula Mae’s hair. It’s gettin’ thin as a rake up top her head.”
Jolene ticked her head to the side and yawned. “Hey.” The moment Charla started dating Zane--Jolene had treated the girl like a redheaded stepchild.
Now let me take a moment to clarify things. We took Charla in at the salon mainly because she needed a job and is Sue Jan’s kin, her cousin from the wrong side of the tracks to be exact. But the deciding moment for me was when she told us she’d dreamed of being a stylist all her eighteen plus years of life.
When her whole family moved to Wachita last year, unexpectedly, Sue Jan realized she had an opportunity to help her out. We took her on, but also under our client capes, so to speak. With all the time we put into teaching her what we all know about the beauty biz, Charla was well on her way to becoming a fine colorist and stylist. Now if we could convince her to stop wearing so much of that cheap perfume…
Sue Jan shook her head. “Good old Lula Mae. You sure are right about that. Fixin’ her hair is like trying to tease corn silk.”
Charla pointed and grinned wide. “That’s ‘bout what it was like.”
Her cell phone dinged. Charla picked it up to look. “It’s Zane.” A smile appeared on her face as she typed in a reply. “He’s coming to say how-dee-do.”
“Oh good. I was wondering when he’d show up at our table.” Jolene repositioned herself, eyes toward the kitchen door.
I nudged Charla and spoke in a low voice. “Sooo, things getting serious between you two?”
She bit her lower lip and looked down at the table. In a whisper, she answered. “If he weren’t so jealous all the time—maybe.”
Before I could say anything, Zane raced out of the kitchen, a kitchen towel on his shoulder. Glossy brown hair, parted from the side gave him a handsome pool-boy kind of look.
Though Jolene stood up and held her arms out, Zane had another destination in mind. The first thing he did was lock-lips with his girlfriend. When the two de-puckered, he finally noticed his mama and gave her a hug. But he kept one arm on Charla the whole time. “How’s my two favorite girls?”
“Good,” they answered in unison like the Doublemint twins.
From the looks on their faces, I guessed they didn’t mean to harmonize their reply. A little ‘mama-versus-girlfriend’ friction, perhaps?
“Real good,” Jolene continued, her expression daring Charla to speak. “I’m so proud of you, son.”
His brown eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Well, thanks a bunch, Mama, but it ain’t just me cooking. Jeremy’s in the kitchen too. Boss man says he’s going to pick one of us to be his top chef. He’s watching to see who does the job best and I’m aiming to have him pick me. The top chef gets a big fat raise and a bonus every year. He’s gonna decide after the big barbecue cook-off next month.” His eyes moved to Charla. “I wanna win real bad. That kind of money could change our lives.”
Charla wrapped her arms around his neck. “I know you’ll win, Darlin’. Besides being a great cook, you’re a hard worker—the first one at work in the morning and the last to leave.”
He frowned. “Not no more. Jeremy wised up. He’s pulling out all the stops.”
Jolene gasped. “I thought he was your friend.”
“He is, Mama.” Zane laughed it off. “There’s ‘jus a little friendly competition between us.”
Charla smiled up at him. “Don’t matter none.” She grasped his chin in her hand. “You’re gonna win. I know it.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “I’m already a winner, ‘cause I have you in my life.”
Right in the middle of that tender moment however, something happened—nothing weird, strange or even out-of-the-ordinary or anything like that. A young intern from Hudson’s law firm, a nice fellow by the name of Grant Holmes, came to the table to say hi.
If either of us had known the chain of events that would occur from that chance meeting, Sue Jane and I would have spun our arms like windmills to wave the boy away. Lord knows, if we’d had the chance to keep him and Zane apart, the poor guy might still be alive.

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