Should I Revisit the Town of Gulley Branch?

Here’s a scene from a story I found in my computer files that I wrote a couple of years ago. Should I resurrect this story? Let me know in the comments below.

The town of Gulley Branch, a once bustling mill town in South Georgia, lay sleeping as a blue Ford Ranger circled its town square. The damp streets were silent, save for the low rumble of the lone vehicle’s motor as it idled down the road. Bobby Joe Smith had circled the square three times, passing Ben’s Barber Shop, the post office, Aunt Junie’s Southern Buffet, the IGA, Gulley Branch Hardware, and the many empty storefronts lining the street with plywood over the windows. Bobby Joe made his early morning rounds, reminiscing about a different time in Gulley Branch, a time when people respected tradition.

Bobby Joe’s hands, slick with sweat, slipped on the steering wheel mid-turn, causing him to run over the curb in front of the post office. The sound echoed in the empty streets, and Bobby Joe slammed on the brakes. He looked around to see if anyone had heard the commotion. Seeing no one, he wiped his hands on his jeans and decided it was time to head to his destination.

Why was he so nervous? It was normal for a man to swing by Gulley Branch Hardware and buy caulking and roofing tar. It would be normal on any other given Monday, but after the heated debate about the Gulley Branch Baptist’s leaking steeple at the church conference last night, people might question his purchases. This deed needed to be done in secret.

Bobby Joe’s grip tightened on the steering wheel at the thought of the meeting. After the conference, he phoned all his friends to rally support, but no one wanted to talk to him. He had considered them friends until he realized they had fallen under the spell of that silver-tongued Reverend Rutley. The only person who seemed concerned about the preacher’s suggestion to remove the steeple of Gulley Branch Baptist Church was Bill McElroy, who refused to go along with anything anyone ever suggested in a church conference.

Bobby Joe knew the steeple leaked, and he admitted it needed repairing, but to remove it altogether was too far. Had the other members forgotten all the Bar-b-Que plates, churchwide yard sales, and silent auctions it took to purchase it? He and his Betty had donated five hundred dollars of their savings to the project.

As he thought of Betty, he reached over to the passenger seat and gently touched the petals of the bouquet of roses he picked from their backyard garden. Roses were her favorite. Despite the passing of time, the ache in his chest remained just as heavy as before. It felt like just yesterday they had met, and now four years had passed since her death. He breathed out a sigh. After getting the supplies from the hardware store, he would drive to the cemetery and place the fresh flowers on her grave. A ritual he performed every week.

His truck rolled past Aunt Junie’s, the IGA, and headed toward Gulley BranchHardware. A light was now burning at the hardware store. Jeff, the owner, was an old Vietnam Veteran that swore too much for Bobby Joe’s taste, but at least he was an early riser. Bobby Joe would need a ladder, but one was in the storage shed at the church. At least he remembered one being there from his time serving on the Building and Grounds Committee, but who knows Reverend Rutley might have gotten rid of that too.

A car rounded the corner, shining its headlights into the cab of Bobby Joe’s truck. His muscles tensed, and he instinctively lowered himself into his seat. Bobby Joe was new to sneaking around town, and it was all because of that new preacher. Could you still call him a new preacher? He had been there two years. Wasn’t it a pastor’s job to encourage his parishioners to not sneak around town? Bobby had tried to like him, but he wouldn’t leave well enough alone.

After hearing Reverend Patrick Rutley’s plans to remove the steeple at the church conference, Bobby knew he had to do something. Their little church was in danger of being ruined by this young hotshot preacher. Some members had already left because of all his new ideas, but Gulley BranchBaptist was his church. He had walked that center aisle over forty years ago. Bobby Joe and Betty’s children crawled under and practically cut their teeth on the pews that Rutley replaced with chairs. Bobby had seen his kind before, the type who comes to the country to cause chaos and then leave for the city’s greener pastures. They claimed to be following the Lord’s calling, but their actions said otherwise.

No.

He couldn’t allow it. Not at Gulley Branch Baptist Church.

“Bobby, what would Betty think of this?” He asked himself aloud, paused, then answered, “She’d probably call you crazy.” As the ache crept up from his chest to his throat, he felt a lump form. He swallowed hard as his nose burned.

“Betty, I got to save the church. Our church.”

With a newfound determination, he parked his truck in front of the hardware store, checked his surroundings, and made his way inside. The old fashion door chime sounded above his head. Startled, he eased the door back.

“Jeff, you open? It’s Bobby Joe.”

Bobby Joe heard some rustling coming from the back room, so he grabbed a basket and helped himself to the aisle marked caulk in big bold letters. The shelf was a mess, but Bobby Joe carefully picked up each tube of caulk, inspecting it to determine if it was the right type to fix the leaks in the fiberglass steeple. Though he never thought of himself as a handyman, he got along. After finding caulk that would work and loading several tubes in his cart, he walked down the aisle to where the sign read “Roofing Tar,” but it was empty. Maybe Jeff had it in the back.

“Hey, Jeff. Do you have any tubes of roofing tar back there?”

“Jeff took the day off.” A female voice replied. “What do you need with tubes of roofing tar, Bobby Joe?” 

Bobby Joe’s heart skipped a beat. He recognized Eleanor Baker’s voice. She was Jeff’s sister, who had lost her husband, and was the most notorious gossip in Gulley Branch. He ducked down an adjacent aisle but decided it wouldn’t do any good to hide when she already knew him and that he was looking for roofing tar, so he stood back up.

 He could lie.

 No. Betty would rollover in her grave.

“Eleanor, I just need roofing tar. And people to mind their own business.” He realized his rudeness and tried to play it off with a grin. The thought of Eleanor mentioning his visit and rude behavior at the store first thing in the morning to his daughter made him break out in a cold sweat. He knew his daughter would not hesitate to call him to the carpet if she found out what he was planning to do.

“There is no need to get snappy. I hope you’re buying it for someone else. I don’t think a man your age ought to be making roof repairs.”  She smiled back.

“I appreciate the concern, but do you have any in the back?”

“Lemme go check.” Eleanor turned and walked through the plastic flaps that served as a door and kept the air-conditioned air upfront.

Bobby Joe waited. Listening to the mouth of Gulley Branch rummage in the back room. He looked out the storefront window and saw the bright sun climbing higher in the sky. More cars were pulling up to the various buildings. The sleepy South Georgia town was waking up. Bobby fidgeted, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Glancing at his watch, he asked, “See any?”

“Hold your horses, Bobby Joe. Looks like Jeff’s got four old tubes. Prolly, ain’t no good.”

“I’ll take them.” Bobby Joe said, trying to hide the tension in his voice.

“All of ‘em?”

“Yes, bring them here.”

“Bobby Joe, are you sure you need four tubes of tar to patch your roof? That seems like a lot.”

“Who said it was my roof?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Bobby regretted saying them.

“Well, whose roof ya’ fixin’?” Eleanor placed her hands holding the tar on her hips and cocked her head in inquisition.

Sweat formed on Bobby’s forehead. Bobby had to tread carefully, or his mission to stop the leak in the steeple would fail before it even began. He fiddled with the basket handle.

“Bobby Joe, are you helping a lady friend?” A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

He struggled to be truthful without revealing too much. Maybe a partial truth. Was that a whole lie? He was helping a lady friend out, right? He knew that every woman who had helped with the steeple project, including Betty, would be grateful for his mission to save it.

Then it hit him.

“Maybe. But like you said, it’s old. I might as well buy all of them, so I don’t have to make another trip here, if one’s dried out.” Bobby straightened his posture and poked out his chest a little. The Reverend’s actions at the church were making him more and more like a crafty con artist.

Eleanor grinned like a donkey eating bramble and smacked on her Juicy Fruit. She bagged the roofing tar and caulk and tapped on the register. The register looked like it belonged in a museum with its metal frame and antique design. It’s mechanical keys and side lever for totaling the sale made a satisfying sound. A relic from a simple time. Bobby Joe always enjoyed checking out at Jeff’s hardware store because it reminded him of years gone by. With the tension eased, they exchanged small talk about Jeff taking the day off to go fishing at Lake Myers. They were finishing up their conversation when the door chime jingled.

Bobby Joe grabbed the paper bags full of supplies and turned around, only to face Reverend Rutley standing in front of him.

Would you like to read more about the Bobby Joe and the characters of Gulley Branch? Let’s talk in the comments.