Pallbearers and Pit Bulls

Imogen pulled into the parking lot of the Dragonfly Cove Marina. She and her four best girlfriends spent so much time here that they’d become known to all as the Dragonfly Darlings. Under normal circumstances, meeting here meant a day filled with boating, sunshine, floating, and plenty of laughter. But today was different. While she was here to meet Willa and Rae, two of the Dragonfly Darlings, it wasn’t for a recreational day on the lake. They were due at the funeral of their longtime friend, Delia Preston.

The word ‘friend’ wasn’t quite right. But, they’d known each other too long to call themselves mere acquaintances. They had gone to school together many years ago, and each raised families here in the small, southern, lakeside town of Hopewell Springs. They went to church together and were members of the same tight-knit social circle. What word fell smack-dab between friend and acquaintance? Whatever it was, that’s what Imogen and Delia were.

If Delia was somewhere between friend and acquaintance on the meter that measured Imogen’s relationships, then Willa and Rae were on the opposite end, somewhere between friend and sister (much closer to sister). They stood waiting for her on the walkway next to the parking lot. Both of the ladies wore black from head to toe. Willa’s dress was form-fitting. Some would say it left her curves a little too confined for a woman her age. But because she’d kept her figure over the years, she could get away with it. In addition to her slinky dress, Willa wore traditional black lace funeral gloves and a black suede hat with a short veil that hung dramatically over her eyes. On the other hand, Rae wore an understated, knee-length dress with a sweetheart neckline, which wasn’t too dissimilar from Imogen’s.

Imogen waved to get their attention, but neither recognized her in her new Mercedes Benz. She’d never been one to spend money lavishly, but her husband thought it was high time they indulged in a luxury vehicle. She never dreamed she’d like driving it so much, though she’d never admit it. 

Rolling the window down, she hollered out, “Hey, Darlings! It’s me. Get in. We’re running late.”

“Imogen? Is that you?” Rae asked.

“Yes, it’s me. Tom and I bought a new car.” Her friends slid across the fine leather seats, Willa in the front and Rae in the back.

“Imogen, what are you doing in a brand-new Mercedes Benz?” Willa looked around and ran her hand adoringly along the dashboard.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she answered. Her smile was proud as she drove out of the parking lot and down the two-lane road. “Tom said he wanted something top dollar to replace the old Camry. Do you like it?” 

“I love it!”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I hope we make it on time. I wanted to get here sooner. But, I got stuck behind a tractor on state route thirty-three.”

“Oh, settle down, Imogen. If we’d left any sooner, they’d have asked us to help do Delia’s hair and makeup. I don’t know about you, but that’s a job I don’t care to volunteer for.” Willa raised her brows and peered out the window as she spoke.

Rae and Imogen shared knowing glances in the rearview mirror. If Delia didn’t meet the true definition of the word friend to Imogen, then she certainly didn’t hit the mark for Willa.

“We all know you never liked Delia. Why are you even going to this funeral?” asked Rae.

She couldn’t argue. It was no secret the two women never got along. So instead, she said, “Because I am a polite, southern Darling, and we attend funerals.” Then, after a short pause, she added, “Besides, I’m at the age where if I start missing funerals, they´ll start planning for mine.”

It was a perfect morning drive, with pleasant conversation and a beautiful countryside view filled with freshly budding spring trees and flowers. About four miles into their journey, Rae said, “This morning, while I was drinking my coffee, I tried to recall the last time I saw Delia. For the life of me, I cannot remember when it was.”

“Of course you do.” Willa turned beneath her seatbelt. “Don’t you remember the last society meeting when they served us breakfast? Delia sat at our table devouring a huge eclaire. I’ll never get that image out of my head. She looked like a hungry mountain lion hunched over a poor, innocent raccoon. Chocolate frosting smeared all over her lips, and cream filling flung about. Lord have mercy!”

Rae stifled a giggle and admonished her. “Willa, stop that. Be nice.”

“Am I lying?” she asked Imogen. “You remember, don’t you?”

Imogen pursed her lips. She stubbornly kept her eyes on the road and her mouth shut.

Willa continued, “It’s no wonder her heart gave out. By the time most of us reached sixteen years old, we had learned the art of moderation. Not her! She never stopped eating like a teenager. Did you see where they only listed eight pallbearers in the obituary? Now, you know it’s going to take at least ten!”

“Willa Monroe!” Imogen gasped. “You’ve been jealous of poor ole’ Delia since our sophomore year of college when you came home to find out she was going with Mike, the mechanic. You’ve carried a torch for him ever since junior high school.”

Willa’s hand fluttered up to the base of her throat. “Jealous? I was never jealous of that tramp!”

Just as Willa was about to explain - in sordid detail - what made Delia a tramp, a loud pop came from beneath the car. Imogen swerved to the narrow shoulder of the road.

“What was that?” she asked, carefully bringing the car to a complete stop.

Rae said, “It sounded like a tire blew. Let me get out and check.” She quickly exited the vehicle and surveyed all four tires.

Willa rolled her window down and asked, “Well, what was it?”

“Exactly what I thought. This tire is flat. Release the trunk so I can get to the spare.”

Imogen complied. Then she asked quietly, “Can she change a flat tire?”

“If any of us can, it's Rae.”

That logic made perfect sense. Rae was the most capable of the three women with a set of tools. They studied her movements in the side mirrors. After a few minutes of digging through the trunk, her head peeped around the edge and announced, “There’s no spare!”

“What in heaven’s name?” Willa and Imogen got out of the car and met Rae at the open trunk.

“Normally, it would be in one of these two places, but there’s nothing,” she pointed out. 

The three of them stood in their funeral clothes on the side of the remote road, staring at the brand-new Mercedes Benz that didn’t have a spare tire. After a moment of baffled silence, Imogen spoke first. “You mean to tell me that Tom and I spent all this money on a luxury vehicle that doesn’t even come with a spare tire?” 

“It looks that way.”

“Well, what are we going to do now?” Perspiration cast a sheen on Willa’s cheeks beneath her hat.

“Let’s see if we have service way out here.” All three Darlings returned to the car to fish their cell phones out of their handbags. 

Rae was the first to see that she didn’t have cell service. Next, Imogen announced the same findings. They both watched Willa continue to dig through her handbag.

“I can’t find my phone.” She frantically whipped items from one side of the bag to the other.

This was a regular occurrence with Willa and something the others had grown used to. She spent more time looking for her cell phone than actually using it. “Will someone call me?” she whined.

“We just said we don’t have….”

“Nevermind. I found it,” Willa interrupted. After reviving her phone, she reported, “No service,” which drew heavy sighs from her friends.

“I could hitch a ride. I was pretty good at that in my younger days,” Willa offered.

“You’re going to hitch a ride out here? From all the cars driving by?” Imogen asked, sarcasm dripping from each word.

“We’re just going to have to walk,” Rae was the reasonable one - the problem-solver. The women gathered their things and got back out of the car.

“We’re going to walk to the church? I’m wearing brand new heels.” Willa was more concerned about ruining her shoes than her feet.

“No, the church is still ten miles away. We’ll have to walk back toward the marina. Surely someone will drive by before too long. Let’s get going.” Imogen was still hopeful they could attend the funeral, even if they were late.

As they started their trek back to Dragonfly Cove, Willa grumbled under her breath, “That Delia. I know she’s looking down on us and having a big ole’ laugh.”

“Come on, now. Delia doesn’t have a thing to do with our predicament,” Rae argued.

“I’d say she has everything to do with it!” Willa fired back. “If not for her, we wouldn’t be out here at all.”

“Willa, you’re only complaining because you’re too hot in that damn hat!”

She balked. “Well, I never… .”

“I don’t know why you think you need a suede hat in this heat anyway, “ Imogen interrupted.  “Nevertheless, if you continue to blame poor ole’ Delia for our misery, it won’t make this walk any shorter. So, enjoy the beautiful scenery. These blooms are the most colorful we’ve had in years. Breathe in the fresh spring air and quit complaining.”

She didn’t move. Imogen had put Willa in her place, and she was stuck there. She eventually came out of it and shuffled to catch up with her friends. The three women walked on the side of the road in silence.

They had been trudging along for about twenty minutes when up ahead they saw the first glimpse of a vehicle headed their way. All three noticed it at about the same time and stopped walking. Rae’s damp hair was starting to curl up into short ringlets. Dark eye makeup slid right off Imogen’s eyelids and pooled just below her lower lashes. And, despite the sweat running down Willa’s face, she refused to take off her funeral hat. 

In a perfectly orchestrated turn of events, the driver who had come to rescue them was Mike, the mechanic in his pickup truck. When he stopped and rolled the passenger window down,  the sound of a deep, thunderous bark lept out to greet them. They all stepped back when they saw (and smelled) Mike’s dripping wet pit bull, Banksie, sitting next to him in the seat. His tongue hung halfway down his chest, drool leaking from his mouth.

“Good morning, Ladies. I’m surprised to see you out here. I figured you’d be at ole’ Delia’s funeral right about now.” Mike eyed the three women he’d known all his life. By this point in their morning, they were a strange sight to see indeed. His eyes lingered just a bit longer over Willa than was customarily acceptable, an oversight that didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe he had a soft spot for her after all these years.

“Mike, thank goodness you came along.” Willa’s words were exhausted and breathy. But her smile sure wasn’t. She was always happy to see Mike, the mechanic, but today she was elated. “The tire blew on Imogen’s brand-new Mercedes on our way to the church this morning. Could you give us a lift?”

Imogen and Rae stood puzzled by the situation, already trying to figure out how Mike could fit the three of them in his pickup truck, along with Banksie, the pit bull.

“I wanted to go to that funeral myself and pay my respects, but I had some work to do at the marina this morning. I took Banksie here along for some company. He loves the lake. I can’t seem to keep him out of it.” Mike smiled, amused by his dog. That explained why the pit bull was wet and wreaked of lake water. “I’ll be happy to give you a ride to the church. Of course, two of you might have to sit in the back.” He nodded his head toward the filthy bed of his pickup.

The women traded disgusted yet desperate glances. Then, as though they’d previously made a plan for their situation, without speaking, Imogen climbed into the soggy seat beside Banksie. The other two ladies hauled themselves into the bed, which was no easy feat wearing dresses and heels. They situated themselves near the open sliding window separating the two parts of the truck. Mike clumsily put it into drive. As it lurched forward onto the road, Willa held her hat to her head and shouted through the window, “Do you still think Delia doesn’t have anything to do with our predicament?”  Banksie answered with another booming bark.

When they stopped before the church less than a half an hour later, Delia’s mourners were somberly filing out the double doors and making their way to the adjacent cemetery, where a freshly dug grave awaited its newest inhabitant. 

Imogen was the first to bolt from the truck. Politely saying her ‘thank yous’ and ‘goodbyes’ to Mike, she slammed the door and vigorously swished the skirt of her dress. But, the combination of lake water, pit bull drool, and dog hair completely devoured her. There was no escaping it.

Rae and Willa scooched to the tailgate on their backsides and hopped to the ground. In the process, Rae got a run in her pantyhose that ran clear up to her thigh, and Willa nearly broke a heel. Cursing under their breath, they swiped the dirt from their dresses and waved a quick ‘thank you’ to Mike. 

Willa was the first to notice the mourners gawking at them as they made their extraordinary (not to mention overdue) entrance. Birdie and Zel, two more Dragonfly Darlings who had driven to the funeral separately, held embroidered hankies to their mouths to stifle their snickering. So, Willa cleared her throat and held her head high beneath her hat, which sat crooked upon her wind-blown hair. She nudged the other two in their sides. “Ladies, we are making a scene.” Her words hid behind a brilliant, toothy smile.

Imogen and Rae stopped dead in their tracks and immediately adjusted into a proud posture. The three women linked arms and elegantly sashayed to the graveside as though nothing were amiss. 

Just as they reached Birdie and Zel, the reverend exited the church, followed by eight pallbearers grappling to carry Delia’s casket down the front steps to the burial plot. With every belabored shuffle, the boys had to work harder to conceal the painful grimaces of exertion on their faces. When the smallest pallbearer stumbled and nearly went to his knees, Imogen and Rae shot mischievous glances at Willa.

A smug expression spread across her face, and she mouthed, “Didn’t I tell you?”  

The reverend offered a final prayer and led the mourners in a solemn acapella verse of ‘Amazing Grace.’ Friends and family paid their last respects to the two surviving daughters and then scattered in slow motion. 

“Darlings,” Birdie began. “What in the world happened to you this morning?”

“It’s a long story,” Rae answered. “We’ll fill you in on all the details over lunch.”

The five Dragonfly Darlings quietly approached the parking lot when Zel said, “Whatever happened, I’m sure Delia would be touched to know that you made it to her funeral.”

Everyone glanced at Willa, expecting a disparaging remark. 

She paused and considered her words very carefully. “Darlings, I’ve learned two important lessons today. First, don’t waste your money on a Mercedes Benz.”

Imogen arched her eyebrows in hushed agreement.

“And second,” Willa continued. “Never, under any circumstances, speak ill of the dead.”