Kiss My Grits
September 1950
Hitch and Isla were traveling along a country highway on their way towards Richmond, Kentucky. The top of the shiny red convertible sports car was down, and they were enjoying the beautiful countryside. Tully and Mary Ellen had just bought a new home on a few acres between Lexington and Richmond and the Rats were gathering for an end of summer celebration.
"You seemed to enjoy that breakfast," Hitch was saying to his wife.
"I did," Isla admitted. "I don't know that I've ever sat at a counter for breakfast before, but it was very good."
"You really seemed to like the grits," Hitch commented.
"Again, a new experience. I've never seen a grit before and I'm not sure I exactly know what a grit is. I've heard Tully talk about grits but I've never tasted them before now," she answered.
"I know, you ate mine as well," Hitch teased, and she laughed with him. "Guess we'll have to take some home with us."
As they drew closer to the farm, Hitch pulled over to consult the map.
"About another twenty minutes," he announced, folding the map and pulling back on the road. He noticed Isla had opened the glove compartment and removed a small bottle of Tums.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
"I don't think I should have eaten your grits on top of my own. I overate and my stomach is rumbling a little," she replied, chewing a couple of the antacids.
"I'm not surprised, you don't normally eat a large breakfast. Are you sure you're okay?" he was concerned.
"I'm fine," she assured him. "Just need to let the food settle a bit and not overdo again."
"Well, you know, Tully and Mary Ellen are going to be forcing food on us the entire visit," Hitch warned.
"I know, I'll watch what I eat, I promise," she responded.
A short time later, they pulled up in front of a large farmhouse with a wraparound porch. Tully and Mary Ellen called greetings as Hitch walked around the car and opened the door for Isla. Troy came through the screen door with Liam Pettigrew riding on his back, followed by Moffitt and an evidently pregnant, Pippa. There were hugs and handshakes all around and after a tour of the house, they settled in the living room with glasses of iced tea while they caught up with each other's lives.
"Isla ate her first grits for breakfast this morning," Hitch announced.
"What did you think?" Tully asked with a grin.
"She liked them so much, she ate mine as well," Hitch added.
"I thought they were great at the time, but now, I'm not so sure. My stomach is in knots, and I think the grits are to blame," Isla confessed.
"There's no way grits would do that. They are one of God's favorite foods, right up there with biscuits and gravy," Tully insisted, feigning outrage that someone could malign such a perfect food and Southern staple.
Isla opened her mouth to speak but suddenly leapt to her feet and ran to the bathroom.
"Isla?" Hitch called, preparing to go after her.
"I've got this," Mary Ellen, a registered nurse, said, following her friend. She found Isla kneeling on the floor, in the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, heaving the contents of her breakfast into the toilet. The violent retching continued for several minutes leaving Isla weak and shaking. Mary Ellen helped her wipe her face and assisted her in sitting on the side of the bed. Her face was colorless, and she kept pressing the damp washcloth to her mouth.
"I would definitely say something didn't agree with you," Mary Ellen said, removing Isla's stylish hat from her head. "Let's take off that suit jacket and belt and you lie down for a bit," she continued, unfastening the belt around Isla's small waist and removing the lightweight suit jacket. No sooner was that accomplished when Isla darted again for the bathroom for a repeat round of vomiting.
Eventually, Mary Ellen got her to lie down on the bed with a cool cloth on her forehead. A light knock came to the door and Pippa entered with a cup on hot tea.
"I thought you could use this," she said, handing the cup to Isla who sat up and began to sip the contents. "It's well sugared."
"Thank you," Isla said softly. "I apologize for being such a bother. I don't ever want to see another grit in my life."
"You just finish your tea and try to take a little nap. You'll feel better soon," Mary Ellen soothed.
"I'll let Hitch know what's going on. He's pretty worried," Pippa left to reassure the worried Rat.
"Are you sure she's okay," Hitch asked nervously.
"She'll be fine. I know Tully won't like to hear this, but she thinks the grits took revenge on her system." Pippa reported.
When Mary Ellen and Pippa checked on the patient an hour later, she had awakened and was back to worshipping the porcelain god in the bathroom.
"I'm beginning to think there's more going on here than just a bad reaction to grits," Mary Ellen said, feeling Isla's forehead. "You're a bit clammy but not feverish. Have you been having any recent nausea?"
"No," Isla admitted. "I've been working hard, preparing a new ballet, but nothing any different than usual," Isla replied.
"When was the last time your Aunt Flo visited?" Mary Ellen asked.
"What?" Isla seemed confused. "My cycle isn't all that regular, but it's been about six or seven weeks, I think." Slowly Isla realized what Mary Ellen was suggesting and saw Pippa smiling at her as well.
"I'll call a doctor friend and see if we can't get you in to see him this afternoon, so we can know for sure." Mary Ellen left to make a phone call. She returned a few minutes later with Isla's train case and reported,
"He said to come in about 2:30. Rest a while longer while I serve lunch, then put yourself together and I'll tell the guys we're going to drive down to Berea to look at the local arts and crafts. Will you be okay for the drive?"
Isla was still looking dumbstruck. "Do you think this is necessary? I still think it was just the grits." Mary Ellen and Pippa exchanged a knowing look and together said,
"Yes."
Isla appeared following lunch with her makeup and hair in place, ready for an outing with her friends. Hitch immediately held her close.
"Are you sure you're alright? You had me worried."
"It was just some bad grits," she assured him, giving him a kiss.
"There is NO such thing as a bad grit," Tully insisted. "It was probably Hitch's driving on these winding roads that made you queasy."
Before Hitch could take umbrage about his driving, Isla responded,
"It was definitely not car sickness, it was a bad grit reaction." Tully shook his head and started to speak but Isla cut him off, "It's over and I don't want to hear another word about it. I guess grits just don't agree with my city-girl stomach. We'll see you later." They kissed their husbands goodbye and left with Mary Ellen driving. As they pulled away Troy remarked,
"I don't know about you guys, but I think they're up to something."
"Well, that means we can get up to something as well," Tully replied. "How about some target practice?"
The women returned a few hours later with several shopping bags and mischievous grins on their faces. They were clearing away the dinner dishes when the phone rang, and Mary Ellen quickly answered.
"It's for you," she said, handing the receiver to Isla.
"This is Mrs. Hitchcock," she confirmed and listened. "Are you sure?" She listened some more then said, "Thank you," before hanging up the phone. She smiled at Mary Ellen and Pippa as the guys entered carrying dirty dishes from the dining room.
"We'll do the washing up," Moffitt said. "We'll join you on the porch when we're finished. The women hurried out of the kitchen so they could talk in private. A short time later, the guys joined them, and Isla stood up from the porch swing,
"How about going for a walk with me?" she held her hand out to her husband.
"Sure," he answered, taking her hand in his.
"I could use a walk," Troy said, preparing to join them.
"No," Mary Ellen and Pippa cried emphatically in unison. The men looked at them confused, "I want to hear about what's going on in Washington," Pippa hurriedly thought of an excuse while Isla hustled Mark down the porch steps.
As the couple walked, Mark put his arm around Isla's waist.
"Are you sure you're alright? You seemed pretty sick this morning," he asked.
"I am perfectly fine," she assured him.
"Who was on the phone?" he questioned.
"Oh, just someone giving me a message," she shrugged it off.
"Tully's pretty incensed about your getting sick from the grits," Mark informed her.
"Well, it might have been something more than just grits," she said, facing him and putting her arms around his waist. She pulled him close for a long, passionate kiss.
"I would say you are positively feeling better," he remarked, kissing her again.
"Most certainly," she smiled and kissed his ear. "I've been thinking, after I perform this next ballet, I think I'm going to take a break."
"Really," he stepped back to look at her. "You always said you would dance until your body wouldn't cooperate anymore. Are you having any problems I don't know about?" he was concerned.
"No, nothing's wrong," she stroked his cheek. "There's another production that needs my attention. Now where were we?" She kissed him again. Several times.
"A ballet production?" He finally stopped long enough for clarification. "That doesn't sound like a break."
"No, a personal production created by the two of us," she explained.
"What?" He wasn't understanding.
"He or she should premiere sometime next April," she gazed into his eyes to watch his reaction. Slowly she saw comprehension dawn.
"Wait, you're pregnant?" he asked, a smile lighting up his face and she nodded. He pulled her close and swung her in a circle. They exchanged numerous kisses before she managed to say,
"Well, I guess we need to head back. I'm going to have to apologize to Tully about the grits."