

They say you never get a second chance at a first impression. When you meet new people, they pretty much make up their minds about you in less than a minute. No wonder commercials no longer bother to tell clever stories or offer testimonials. They know you are not going to take the time to listen and observe, to compare and evaluate. So they shout, tout and get out.
That's the reality of things these days. We are living in a shout-tout-and-get-out world. The clock is ticking. Impress me, or don't waste my time. One minute. That's a lot of pressure for a person like Bernadette, who in all probability hasn't actually made up her own mind about herself, about who she really is and, most importantly, about who she is capable of being.
"So, what do you think about Jake?" I asked Bernadette the next day as we stood in the side lot of the old drive.
In my brilliance and, frankly, my desperation to save the day and grant Bernadette that most unlikely of gifts---a second chance---I had suggested that those who had showed up for our first council meeting should form into two subcommittees.
It made sense, really, because by the time we got all the spilled papers cleared away and the introductions over with, Jan had to leave to pick up her husband from physical therapy. And because Jake and Chloe seemed to hit it off, and Gloria continued to snap at her daughter, and that still-red-headed terror Gallina Roja kept scratching around trying to find out if Jake was the marrying type, we weren't getting any work done....
And by work, I mean matchmaking, of course. I took it upon myself, as the chairperson, to tip the scales a little bit in Bernadette's favor. And to divide the group up according to their interests and abilities. Really.
You see, Jan and Chloe were on the side of closing the place down. Gloria had all those complaints to share, and Gallina Roja? I have my own mother-in-law, thank you very much. I did not need to deal with somebody else's while trying to conduct my first-ever action council.
So Maxine, the Reverend Cordell, Bernadette and I took charge of the side of making the flea market more community-friendly. It's not my fault that that also fit in with my goal of making the Reverend more Bernadette-friendly.
We all agreed that our first step should be to go over and eyeball the premises on a non flea market day. Which led me to be standing by Bernadette the next day, asking, "So? What did you think of him?"
"Jake?" Bernadette fidgeted for a few seconds with the humongous ring of keys she'd picked up from the man who owned the drive-in property. Then she gave me a sly look---half teasing, half warning that I should tread lightly. "What is there to think about him?"
Tread lightly? Had the girl not spent any time in my company? Besides, I'd seen the look in her eyes when Jake spoke to her over the mess she dumped at his feet Wednesday. Not love at first sight, but something even more powerful. She liked the guy. They clicked.
Something in her gaze said, "I know neither one of us is perfect, but I don't mind if you don't." Hope, and the acceptance of someone, flaws and all---if there was ever anything more powerful than lightning-bolt love, that was it.
But Bernadette had a bad first impression to overcome, and one did not do that by treading lightly.
"The Reverend Cordell." I waved, big and bold, at the man unfolding his long legs from a nondescript compact car under a big old pecan tree. I went so far as to reach up on tiptoe to extend myself and make sure he saw me---us. I don't know how he could have missed us, of course, Bernadette's cumbersome white service van and my big old truck being the only vehicles parked in the flat expanse along the side of the drive-in. "So what do you think?"
"About...?" she said, and I just knew she was playing coy.
I pointed, shielding the gesture from the man's view with my body.
"Oh, about Jake." Bernadette said the man's name as if she'd said it before. A lot. Over and over. The way someone does when they practice for a chance meeting---a much-anticipated and intricately planned for chance meeting, that is. "I like him fine."
She turned toward him and raised her hand to wave, too. Then, seeing that he was preoccupied with trying to clean up those sad old shoes, she dropped her hand to her side. She let out a low breath and chewed her lower lip.
If I'd let her, she would have stood right there and talked herself out of any kind of a chance with the fellow. Oh, no, not on my watch. I gave her shoulder a nudge. "Go welcome him out here."
"Me?"
"Well, you are the tour guide du jour, aren't you?"
She looked at me, then at the old concrete Satellite Vista Drive-In sign, then at the keys in her hand, and a slow smile worked its way across her pretty face.
"Go."
It was a hot day, even for the first week of July, and I welcomed the shade of the trees around us, both for their cooling effect and for the way they hid any telltale show of nerves on my part.
She hurried off without a speck of further encouragement.
I shook my head and joined Maxine, who had been sitting in my truck pouting, because she really hadn't wanted to devote this kind of time to my made-up-on-the-spot concerned-citizens' action council. She'd argued that she just wasn't all that concerned, and didn't see why she should have to get her shoes muddy tromping around a place she was going to come to and spend the day at twenty-four hours from now anyway. So I had a hard time this morning getting her to budge from the comfort of my truck.
This truck, now, it's a hoot, if I do say so myself. Maxine calls it the "Mama-mobile," and thinks we should paint it pink and glue acrylic gems all over the hood. David and I bought it to haul shrubs and mulch and landscaping tools and all manner of concrete lawn ornaments that we thought for sure would become a part of our daily life in retirement. Two years now, and I haven't lifted a spade, planted a bush or found a home for a single red-capped garden gnome. But I do love to tool around town, windows down and attitude up, in my beat-up old truck. It's way more fun than a chubby pale-haired lady ought to have. Certainly more fun than Jake and Bernadette were having.
"Young people!" I folded my arms and pressed my hip to the front fender of the truck. "Left to their own devices, I wonder if any of them would ever find one another and start to work on producing the next generation."
"Folks been managing to do it for a whole lot of years without your help, Odessa. I have an inkling most of them just might get the job done, despite your misgivings."
"Some of them." I watched Bernadette, the hem of her bright print dress floating around her sturdy but still lovely legs as she flounced up to the minister.
He stepped back, his hands up, and said something. Probably some lame joke, telling her not to hurt him today.
She stopped short and looked at the ground.
"But those two?" The tableau they made just about broke my heart. "They are going to need all the help we can give them."
"We?" Maxine looked genuinely surprised.
I found it cute that, regardless of how much she likes to tell people she knows exactly what I have in mind and usually wants no part of it, I could still catch her off guard. "You know, Maxine, I have never been one of those women who meddled in other people's lives."
She said nothing.
"You're not going to argue with that?"
"I'm still trying to decide how I got dragged into this we-have-to-help-those-two notion of yours." She got out of the truck and shut the door soundly behind her. "As for you saying you don't meddle in other people's lives...? Well, a statement like that is the kind of thing I'd have to leave between you and the Lord, because..." She winced, looked skyward, then cocked her head and aimed her gaze square at me. "Odessa, there are times when being a sister in Christ and being a woman of good manners just plain clash. For me, that used to happen maybe once or twice in a decade. Now, every day I spend with you, it happens once or twice...an hour!"
"You have issues with me, Sister Cooke-Nash?" A quick glance showed the targets of my matchmaking walking our way, Jake in long confident strides and Bernadette...What was she thinking, wearing those espadrilles out here? I mean, they are too cute for words, but look at the height on those heels and the flimsy ribbons around her ankles! She is going to fall flat on her face. Or worse. I could see the two of them trying to explain how they both got mud-covered backsides! Texas in the summer wasn't usually a wet place, but somehow the whole flea market parking lot and the walkway into the place seemed to remain forever soggy. Bernadette knew that. And she should have taken it into account. "You know, I have my nurse's shoes behind the seat of the truck. Do you think I should get them out and insist she get herself into some sensible footwear before---"
Maxine laughed. "Odessa Pepperdine, you are the most meddlesome woman I have ever met. How can I stand here and listen to you say otherwise and not have issues with it?"
"Fair enough." I laughed, too.
Then I put my hand on her arm and swiveled her around to see what I saw. Bernadette clumping and wobbling along, clutching her skirt for dear life, all the while trying to make light conversation and maintain control over her windswept hair and the cumbersome keys in her hand.
Maxine sighed, and I knew she had begun to see my point.
We'd been told we could come out today if we parked along the side, out of sight of the road. That meant we had to walk around the chipped but still impressive screen of the drive-in screen to get to the gate where everyone entered on flea market day. I don't think Bernadette had considered that little hike when she had dressed this morning, and I could just imagine her stomach clenching as she thought about the kinds of things her mother and grandmother might say to her about the foolishness of her choices. I was wondering what I might call out or do to help her along when Jake finally paused and reached down to slip the keys from Bernadette's hand.
She tipped her head up to look into his eyes. There were not many men who stood over her that way, and I could tell she liked the new experience. She said something, glanced down, then lifted one foot and rotated her ankle.
Jake laughed and held his arms up, and I could just imagine him saying, Here, jump in my arms and I'll carry you away.
Then, without making a big deal out of it, he offered her his arm to steady her as they began to walk toward us again.
Big sigh. "I mean, I was never one of those who found it her place to meddle in people's love lives. To try to get everyone neatly paired up and married off."
"Mmm-hmm."
"But I just have this good feeling about Bernadette and Jake."
"A good feeling about..." She put her hands on her hips. "Were you not at the church yesterday? Because I honestly believe that was you I saw there setting up this subcommittee and arranging for us to come out here this warm Thursday morning to take a tour of the place without the distraction of the flea market traffic and vendors."
"What's your point?"
"Did you not see that travesty yesterday? The man thinks the girl is a klutz. And he is not wrong in that thinking."
"Klutziness is no obstacle to love, Maxine." Though it suddenly occurred to me that if she stumbled while hanging on to his arm, and he ended up twisting his ankle or tearing his shirt, it might be an obstacle to other things---like wanting to ever be around her again. Now that would be an obstacle to love. "But I think, once he sees her here in her natural setting---"
"Her natural setting? She's not an exotic bird released into the wild." Maxine flapped her arms a couple times to bring home her point. "She is a never-married bridal-and-formalwear retailer who has a small and a tiny bit tacky booth peddling classy things at a not-so-classy flea market to people like you and me who stop to ooh and aah over them but never buy a thing, Odessa. Seeing her here is only going to cement in the man's mind that she is always out of her element."
"No. You don't think that of her, do you?"
"I think...Odessa, honey, all your good intentions aside, I think that anybody who has that feeble self-esteem and that family of hers will always seem out of her element until she learns to stand up for herself. You want to help Bernadette? You help her do that. Don't try to get her married off to a minister. You of all people know how easy it is to lose yourself in that role."
It was good advice.
I've never been good at taking good advice.
The pair reached us and greeted us. I must have smiled a little too long or too sweetly at them, because after a second or two, Jake glanced down at the arm Bernadette was holding, then at me, and then stuck out his other arm. It had all the markings of saying to me that he wanted to make me feel included, but I knew that to Bernadette it said what everyone from her closest family to the delivery boy who praised her company's name really thought. You are nothing special, girl.
I refused the offer with a pat, then stood back to let them lead the way around to the front of the drive-in.
"Don't you see, Maxine?" I tugged on her to keep her from marching right up and joining the others. "By doing nothing more than getting the Reverend to notice her, and thereby giving herself a chance to decide if she wants to go out on a date with him---just one little date---then she will be standing up for herself. She will show her family she is more than they say she is. And did you hear Mrs. Davenport the other day? All the people she has worked so hard to serve for so long pushed her aside for their own gain. If she doesn't rally against that..."
"They will hold sway over her the rest of her life. And heaven help her if one of them should actually succeed in marrying off one of their candidates to that poor man."
"Salt in the wound," I whispered, my eyes shut tight against the very thought of it. When I opened my eyes again, I could see I'd gotten to Maxine. I'd made my sale, but I hadn't driven it home. "Think of it, Maxine. Bernadette is like Cinderella, and we're her..."
She held up her hand, her expression a clear warning about making that particular comparison. Then she offered a sly smile and her own version of our role in getting this girl her shot at the glass slipper. "Godly Mothers?"
"Tiara Madres." I raised my chin. I could practically feel the delightful weight of the silver band and a hundred crystals winking and twinkling on my head. If we had had coffee cups right then, we'd have clinked for sure and sealed the deal.
Maxine was on board.
Now all we needed to do was find a way to transform Bernadette and elevate her to a whole new status in the Reverend's eyes.
"Anyone up for a hot-air balloon ride?" The young man who stood outside the gate every weekend pushed a large wicker basket upright in a spot smack-dab between the four of us and the entryway.
I caught my breath.
"Sammy?" Bernadette cocked her head, but did not relinquish her gentle hold on the Reverend's arm. "What are you doing here?"
"I asked him." Chloe stepped out from behind the basket, her eyes bright and her hair practically glowing with a new, brilliant streak of orange color.
"Chloe? You weren't supposed to be on this subcommittee." I was torn. On the one hand, I liked seeing her, or anyone, take an active interest in our work but on the other hand, as chair I had set up who would work with who---with whom?---and she was messing about with my plans. I wasn't angry so much as flustered, and I suppose that carried through in my tone when I leaned in toward the girl in the black jeans with the black-and-red pleated skirt over them and a couple of layers of T-shirts. "I thought you understood you were to work with Mrs. Alvarez and Jan Belmont, looking into regulations and the paperwork side of things."
"I know." She shrugged. No, not shrugged. Squirmed, really. She twisted her upper body and ground the ball of her foot against the damp earth as she went on to say, "But you see, this is one of things that really..." She pressed her lips together. I am not sure what she almost said, and the fact that I didn't know made me think it wasn't the kind of language she ought to be using. She must have realized it, too, because she cleared her throat, fiddled with the ring in her eyebrow and began again. "I know Mrs. Belmont doesn't like the hot-air balloon rides."
"But she's wrong to want to try to shut us down." The young man reached up to turn on a valve. A sudden blast of fire illuminated the side of his face.
I stepped back, and Maxine with me. "Chloe, I thought you wanted to see this place shut---"
"A lot of people depend on this place for their livelihoods, Ms. Pepperdine." The girl did not outright deny that she had been on the side of those wanting to see the flea market closed, but she sure didn't seem to want me to say it outright, either. Her eyes darted from side to side, and when the young man dipped his head to tell her to keep talking, she obeyed. "It's not fair to take this place away because some lady thinks she's too good to share the same air with the rest of us."
Another burst of flame underscored her impassioned declaration.
Again Maxine and I stepped back.
Jake held his ground.
Bernadette alone moved forward. "I don't think your being here on a nonmarket day is a good idea, Sammy. There could be problems with insurance, and...Does your boss know you're here?"
"It's all perfectly safe." Sammy neither answered Bernadette's questions nor looked at her directly.
I studied him for a moment. In cutoffs and a T-shirt, without flyers in his hand or the crush of the crowd around him, he seemed younger, somehow. And older, too---or more experienced, to be precise. But just at what I couldn't have said. Leaner and harder than the mental picture I carried of him. I wouldn't go so far as to call him menacing. Yet, when he turned his cocky gaze on me this time, I had the urge to clutch my pocketbook a little tighter.
Don't be one of those people who makes up her mind about someone in less time that it takes a marketing-whiz kid to peddle you a tooth-whitening system. My mind spoke reason. But my skin crawled, just a little. There was something about his being here today, and the way he seemed to have a hold over Chloe, how her story seemed to have changed. Nothing out here felt as it should have.
"So, Sammy agreed to come out here and give a demonstration for y'all." Chloe, too, spoke as if she had not heard what any of us had said and wasn't trying to talk to any one of us in particular. "Mrs. Belmont would run them off if she had her way. It's not fair. You can't make up your mind about something like this if you haven't even tried it."
Slowly the colorful balloon began to billow and grow.
"I have to admit, it is beautiful," I whispered to Maxine.
"So are a lot of things you have no business getting too close to," Maxine shot back.
"Anyone want to climb in? Ms. Pepperdine?" He, this Sammy with the hard eyes and the slippery charms, held out his hand.
And I confess, it was tempting. Which, right there, set off all kinds of alarm bells in my head. You see, I learned a long time ago not to worry myself overmuch as a Christian about the things that repel me. But the things that I am attracted to, that appeal to me, that even seem to call to me? Those I knew I should be wary of. Not all of them were wrong or sinful, but I should treat them that way until I knew better. Then again, what could be sinful about going up in a tethered hot-air balloon? "Aren't there permits to worry about? Are you allowed to just..."
"I'll go." The Reverend held up his hand and took a long stride forward, leaving Bernadette behind.
"I, uh..." Bernadette blinked and began to raise her hand, as well. "I guess I might like to try it, too, if that would be okay."
"Maybe Chloe should go, since it is her pet project." The Reverend reached out to the girl in the Goth-ish getup, seemingly totally oblivious to the look of disappointment that flashed over Bernadette's face.
"Sure. Why not?" And just that fast, Chloe seized the door to the big upright basket and jerked it open.
"Do you really think you should do this?" I asked Reverend Cordell, meaning taking the balloon ride, because of my own concerns about safety. Okay, and also asking---in that way women have of asking one thing but meaning another and then expecting the men to pick up on the undercurrent, which they never do so it's really a waste of everyone's time---if he really should pick Chloe over Bernadette.
"You didn't see the grip that kid had on Chloe's arm." Jake leaned in close, a calming smile barely playing over his lips. "If someone doesn't go along with this, I think he might hurt her later."
My stomach turned. I felt ashamed. I'd focused so much energy on trying to set up Bernadette, I hadn't kept an open mind or an open spirit about young Chloe. The girl needed help.
Of course, that didn't mean I'd given up on Bernadette. And, to my surprise, Bernadette hadn't entirely given up on herself, either.
"Is there room...that is, could that thing still get off the ground with one more passenger?" She flipped back her black hair and marched right up to Sammy. Shoulders back and eyes on the balloon overhead, she wet her lips, then glanced at everyone gathered there, one by one. "I am the one giving the tour today, after all. Seems like up in the air is as good a place to start as any."
"What do you think?" Jake moved to put himself between Sammy and Chloe, who were waiting in the basket.
"I think our girl is actually standing up for herself a little," Maxine whispered in my ear, giving the young woman a solid thumbs-up.
Sammy nodded. "No problem. Chloe knows how to work it from in there. That's how safe it is. You'll see. You only go up high enough to see the ground and the rooftops of nearby houses."
"All right, then. Let's go," Bernadette got in, and when Jake joined her, I got the distinct feeling that she would have felt lighter than air even without the basket and the blast from the flame.
"You're a good man, Reverend," I said quietly, then stepped away and tipped my head back.
The flame flared. The balloon loomed above us. It took my breath away, but I still found enough to whisper a little prayer. "Please, Lord, keep these passengers safe. Help us all to know the right thing to do to be of help and service to our fellow man. And let us know that we do not always have the big picture but You do and that is where we will place our trust."
"Hey, I can see the whole lot," Bernadette shouted. "There, see, Reverend Cordell? The number one-ten spray painted on the asphalt? That's where I set up my booth."
"I'm sure it's lovely," he shouted back.
"Mine's next to it." Chloe reached out over the edge of the basket to point. The whole thing rocked, just slightly.
Maxine gulped.
"Do you see anything that might be considered a problem that we need to look into?" Now I was shouting.
"Yeah, like does Odessa have any cavities?" Maxine called up.
I frowned at her.
"Hey, I thought as long as they were up above us and you had your mouth open...Oh, who am I kidding? You always have your mouth open. Lots of time to check your teeth, girl."
"I see a bridge, but it's not the dental kind," Jake called, playing along. "And I see..."
He paused, shaded his eyes with one hand, then said something to the girls. Both of them turned in the direction he had been facing and shaded their eyes, too.
Talk about something piquing a person's curiosity!
"What?" I shouted up, wishing I had overcome my reticence and taken the ride so I could see for myself. "What is it? Is it something our action council should delve into?"
"I think maybe it is." Jake did not look down, but Bernadette did.
"What is it?" I jumped. More a hop, really, as if that teensy bit of extra height would, I don't know...either let me see what they saw or help them hear me better. "What do you see?"
"Not what," Bernadette answered. "Who."
"Who?" Even Maxine had to get in on that question, and we both hooted it together.
"Jan Belmont." Bernadette enunciated every syllable.
"Is she...What?" I wondered whether I would recognize the woman's car on sight, as they must have with their view of the grounds. "Is she headed this way?"
"I hope not," Jake said.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because it would be a long way for her to jump." His gaze remained fixed in the distance.
"Jump?" I did it again myself, just a small leap for my kind---the old-lady kind. I couldn't help it. This whole conversation made me want to do...something. "Where is she?"
"Sitting on a roof." Jake shook his head.
A roof. The roof. The place from which her husband had fallen and altered the course of both their lives. I didn't know why she would be up there, but I do know that just imagining her in that spot sent chills over my entire body.
"That cannot be good."
Bernadette looked down at me. I couldn't really see her face all that well, but I could see by the way she gripped the side of the basket and the way she no longer seemed intent on standing as close to Jake as possible that the sight had rattled her.
People looked right through Bernadette, and in return Bernadette looked right into people's very hearts. Something about what she saw in Jan just then must have made her put aside her competition with Chloe for Jake's attention and call out a command. "Chloe, get this basket back on the ground. We need to get going."
"On the tour?" Jake asked as the balloon descended.
"I'm afraid this concludes our tour for the day." Bernadette moved into position to get out of the basket first. She and Jan certainly had their differences. Jan wanted to close down the only place on earth where Bernadette found respite and relevance. But what she had seen had moved her to action. "I think Jan really needs our help right now."
"Our help?" Jake asked, holding the curved wicker door open for Bernadette to step out onto the ground.
"I'm going," she said, without any special effort to make herself look graceful as she climbed out and started walking away. "I'd welcome anyone else who wants to come along."
"Anyone?" Chloe called out after her.
Bernadette slowed, stopped, turned around and tipped her head to one side. "Looks to me like Jan needs all the friends she can get. If you think you can be a friend to her now, then you should come. Any of you."
She turned around, took a step, sank espadrille-deep in mud and almost took a nosedive into a puddle.
I gasped.
Maxine clucked her tongue.
Chloe said something to Sammy that I couldn't quite make out.
Jake took a couple long strides and caught Bernadette by the arm. He steadied her there while she slipped out of her shoes.
Chloe caught up with them.
"He's going to offer to carry Bernadette, I just know it," I whispered to Maxine.
"If he does, Odessa, I will carry you." Maxine slapped her hand on my back to get me moving toward the others. "Piggyback, no less."
"Maxine, someday you are going to make a promise like that and have to keep it," I warned.
"But not today, Odessa."
Because Jake did not sweep Bernadette off her feet. Nor did it seem that he had even offered to do as much. He did, however, carry her shoes. When they got to her van, he helped her put them back on, and I may be wrong about this, but I think, when he looked up at her then, it was with a new sense of admiration.
"My plan is working," I whispered.
"You don't have a plan, Odessa!"
"You don't know that, Maxine. I might have a plan. And even if I don't have a plan, God does, and by putting myself in a position for Him to use me in His plans, maybe I will come up with something. Wait and see, is all I've got to say."
Wait and see? In a tout-shout-and-get-out world? It doesn't happen often. People just don't think like that. But Christians should. Bernadette seems to, and the Reverend, too. They say you never get a second chance at a first impression. But for some people, second chances are their only hope. That's part and parcel of the message of salvation. Second chances happen. Because of that, the people who get those second chances are changed people. He who is forgiven much, loveth much.
Bernadette loves a lot. And it shows in her concerns for others. I don't know if the Reverend sees that, or if it matters to Bernadette whether he recognizes the trait in her. She certainly doesn't offer her love as a means to an end. She doesn't do it for what she will get out of it. And for that reason, I pray that the people she encounters will wait and see and not make up their minds about her in less than a minute.
Because the Bernadettes of the world---and there aren't nearly enough of them around, to my way of thinking---understand that the time to give up on another one of God's children is never.


