Music Of Home

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  “You can borrow mine tonight,” Drusie said.

  Clara brightened. “I—I can?” Just as quickly her smile evaporated. “But Drusie, you don’t have but one dress, do you?”

  Drusie remembered that she had dropped off her green dress at a local seamstress’s shop to have a ribbon reattached. The shop had long since closed. “That’s okay. You can wear the fancy dress. I’ll just wear what I’ve got on.” She looked down at her red gingham dress. While clean, flattering, and serviceable, the frock didn’t compare to anything with sequins.

  “That won’t look right, with one of you in sequins and the other in something so plain,” Archie said.

  “I don’t care.” Drusie’s voice came out with more defiance than she intended. “We ain’t gonna let nobody get us down. Somebody don’t want Clara to go out there in her good dress, and she’s just about succeeded. But I don’t care if I have to wear rags—Clara’s gonna look like a million bucks.” Drusie crossed her arms and rooted her foot to make herself look as rigid as possible.

  “You said ‘she,’ ” Archie noticed. “You think you know who did this?”

  “I have an idea—June,” Clara said.

  “June?” Archie laughed. “I don’t think she’d do that.”

  “You don’t, do you?” Elmer guffawed. “Then you don’t know much about women, Archie. She’s been madder than a bull in a pen ever since you brought Clara here.”

  Archie shot Elmer a dirty look. “Aw, June must have caught us in a honey cooler.”

  “Honey cooler?” Drusie queried.

  Archie shuffled his foot. “You know—a kiss.”

  “So there’s been more than one?” Drusie blurted.

  “Never mind that.” Clara’s cheeks blazed, a sure sign that “honey coolers” had been the rule of the day with them.

  Drusie wished she had kept a closer eye on her sister, but if Clara was determined to kiss Archie, Drusie could do little to stop her.

  “Before we got here, were you and June a couple?” Clara asked Archie.

  “No. As far as I’m concerned, she’s just another canary.”

  Drusie turned to Elmer. “Do you think June had reason to think otherwise?”

  “Aw, you see how women act around Archie. He draws the ladies like bees to honey. But I never saw him treat June different from anybody else. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll swear on the Bible.”

  “You don’t have to go that far, Elmer,” Drusie said. “Archie, you better not be playin’ my sister for a fool.”

  “I’m not. I swear. You can bring me a Bible, too, if you want.”

  Drusie discerned more from Archie’s plaintive expression and clear tone of voice than from his willingness to swear on the Bible. “Okay. But if you are, you’ll be answerin’ to our pa.”

  “Considering what a good shot he is with that rifle of his, I know I don’t want to cross him.” Archie’s half grin conveyed levity, but Drusie knew he was serious. He drew his watch from his pocket and glanced at its face. “It’s getting late. Elmer and I had better take a powder so you girls can get dressed.” With that, the men exited.

  Clara gave Drusie a light embrace. “I’ll never forget you for doin’ this.”

  “I hope you’ll never forget me anyway,” Drusie joked.

  Clara’s gaze met Drusie’s. “Are you mad at me for not tellin’ you about Archie and me?”

  “You was afraid I’d tell Pa and you’d have to go home, warn’t you?”

  “I was. Are you gonna tell him? Archie said if he found out, that would be the end of the tour.”

  “I don’t care half as much about this tour as I care about you. Do you really think Archie loves you?” Drusie searched her sister’s face. “I know we all grew up together, but Archie is a little older than you, and as adults you haven’t known each other all that long.”

  “I do think Archie loves me. I—I know he does. But you know somethin’—I cain’t think about marryin’ him until his heart softens toward the Lord more. I think he got mad at God for takin’ his parents so long ago, and he ain’t been back to the Lord since.”

  “Nothin’s too big to handle with God’s help, but I can understand why a little boy would get mad and confused over such tragedy. But he’s a grown man now, and it’s high time he changed his outlook.” Drusie stared at the wall but didn’t think about the faded yellow paint. She could only feel sadness at Archie’s loss and say a quick, silent prayer that his heart would change. Her prayer led her to express an idea. “Clara, maybe you can be the one to lead him back to God.”

  “I’ve thought of that.” Clara looked down at her skirt. “And I’ve thought of somethin’ else. I cain’t kiss him anymore unless I plan to marry him. It just ain’t right.”

  Drusie sent her sister a knowing smile. “I’m glad Ma and Pa don’t have to be here for you to know right from wrong. I know if God wants you and Archie to be together, you will be. . .someday.”

  “I wouldn’t tell this to nobody else, but I hope so. He hinted that he’d like to marry me someday, but I didn’t do nothin’ to take him up on his offer.”

  Drusie moved to give her sister a hug. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see. Now come on. We got a show to do.”

  Onstage later, Drusie couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as she appeared in gingham while her sister shone in sequins. She surveyed the audience, even though she wasn’t able to see much with spotlights flooding the stage and the people watching them sitting in relative darkness. She did eye a brunette in fur. The woman had been following them lately. She seemed to brighten whenever the men took to the stage. Drusie held back a smile. The men attracted quite a few female admirers.

  Without meaning to, Drusie wondered how many male fans came to see them. She was glad she would never have to find out. Archie made sure they were protected from any bold men who might have been looking for more than an autograph.

  Clara took to the spotlight like a duck to water. She couldn’t remember when her sister had sung with a voice as pure and sweet. Clearly, onstage life suited her. She always approached each new performance with anticipation. Drusie, on the other hand, felt dread. Singing for the folks at home—her friends and family—was one thing. Entertaining strangers made her nervous.

  Maybe I should let her be the star all the time.

  Drusie made a point of observing June, who sat with her partner, Betty, along with the Country Bills, as they awaited their turn. At first the blond wore a triumphant grin when Drusie took to the stage in her plain dress. June’s mouth turned into a red slash as soon as Clara appeared in her stage attire. June puffed with more vigor on her cigarette and glared at her competition. Yes, June was the culprit.

  An unpleasant thought occurred to Drusie. She had no doubt that June was out to cause trouble. Could she have taken her necklace?

  ❧

  Gladdie always made a point of arriving a few minutes before the store’s opening, a fact Mr. Goode had said time and time again he greatly appreciated. As soon as Gladdie entered, Mr. Goode wasted no time in greeting him. “Gladdie, I’ve got some news. It’s time for us to talk.”

  “Be right with you, sir.” Gladdie hung his coat and hat on their customary hook with as much nonchalance as he could muster, contrary to his shaking hands and rapid heartbeat.

  Not one for idle chatter or gossip, Mr. Goode never said he had news unless the message was important. Surely he was about to say that he planned to accept Pa’s offer for the store and that Gladdie would soon be the owner. In his mind, he rehearsed one last time how he would assure Mr. Goode that he would do Sunshine Hollow proud and keep up the fine level of quality and service their customers had grown to expect. He still wasn’t sure he could promise he wouldn’t change the name of the store to reflect his ownership. Surely Mr. Goode would understand Gladdie’s desire to tell the world he was finally his own boss.

  In an uncustomary move, Mr. Goode sat by the potbellied stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. Normally he�
��d finished his morning beverage long before Gladdie arrived. “Have a cup?” Mr. Goode asked.

  “No thank you, sir. I had plenty at breakfast this mornin’.” He didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t imagine drinking or eating anything at the moment. Anticipation had brightened his spirit but dulled his appetite.

  “Sit down, son.” Mr. Goode motioned to the empty oak rocker by the stove.

  “Yes, sir.” He obeyed even though he would rather have stood.

  Mr. Goode took a swig of black coffee. “I suppose I might have summoned your pa in here, but I figured you and I could talk like men.”

  The admission made Gladdie’s heart beat faster than ever. The mention of his pa could only mean one thing—that the store would soon be his. “I can relay whatever message Pa needs to hear. He knows he can trust me.”

  “I know it.” The elder man took another swig slowly. A little too slowly.

  Gladdie wondered why he was so reticent to relay welcome news. Maybe he’s just now realizin’ how sad he’ll be to leave the store forever.

  Mr. Goode cleared his throat. “I reckon you recall that not too long ago, a couple of men came here to the store and we all went out to lunch.”

  “Yes, sir. They were dressed in nice suits, the kind like my cousin Archie wears.”

  “I know they didn’t look like they belonged here in these parts, and there’s a good reason for that. They don’t. They were here from out of town on business.” He paused.

  “Business?” A sick feeling visited the pit of Gladdie’s stomach.

  “Yep. They were representin’ some buyers from out of town. Buyers of the store.”

  “Oh.” Gladdie didn’t know what to say. Surely Mr. Goode wouldn’t sell the store out from under him. Not when he knew how much he wanted to go into business for himself. Yet when Mr. Goode stopped looking at him, Gladdie knew what had happened. He had accepted their offer.

  “Gladdie, I know you and your pa thought I’d sell to you, and if you want to know the truth, I’d planned to. But none of us shook hands on the deal, so when this other offer came in, I had to take it.”

  “They’re payin’ a powerful lot of money, ain’t they?” Gladdie’s voice registered just above a whisper.

  Mr. Goode nodded. “More than I know you and your pa could ever pay.”

  “But why? I mean, this here store is swell for Sunshine Holler, but it don’t make enough money to impress people from out of town. Does it?”

  “Well, they said that the people they represent want to live here now. They love the mountains and they have family here.”

  “What family?”

  “I don’t rightly know.” Mr. Goode shrugged. “I reckon all will be clear before you know it.”

  Gladdie tried to digest what the storekeeper said, but disappointment clouded his reasoning. All he could do was fight back bitterness and anger. He tensed his hands against the chair rails to keep them from balling up into fists.

  Mr. Goode leaned forward in his seat. “You know I think of you like a son, but I had to take the money. My daughter in Raleigh ain’t rich, and she’ll need whatever the sale of the store brings for the two of us to live. Trust me, she’s grateful. And so am I.”

  “I understand,” Gladdie forced himself to answer.

  “I did look out for you. I told them you’re a mighty fine clerk and that the new owners would be powerful foolish not to keep you on.”

  “Thank you.” Gladdie knew the tone of his voice was like that of a little boy who’d gotten a doll for Christmas instead of a bike, but he couldn’t muster much gratitude, try as he might.

  “I know this is a disappointment for you and your family, and I’m sorry about that. But at least you still have a job. I’m sure they’ll keep you on. And in these tough times, a job is somethin’ to be grateful for.” Mr. Goode finished his coffee and stood. “Now let’s get to work.”

  Gladdie knew he’d seen all the sentiment Mr. Goode would be able to summon. He had to follow his orders. Having to tell Pa that Mr. Goode had sold the store out from under them was bad enough; he didn’t want to tell him he’d lost his job, too. When he heard the news, Gladdie imagined Pa would call Mr. Goode a snake, but other than harbor ill will, there was nothing they could do. Nothing. And Gladdie knew the Bible forbade them even the luxury of hard feelings.

  “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

  Yes, he would have to forgive Mr. Goode whether he wanted to or not. And he would. Surely Pa would, too. . .given time.

  For once Gladdie felt glad Drusie was on tour. He wasn’t ready to tell her yet that they’d have to find a different way to make good in Sunshine Hollow.

  ❧

  “You girls sure pleased the crowd tonight,” Archie praised Drusie and Clara after the show.

  “Oh, Archie! Each show is even more excitin’ than the last one,” Clara proclaimed, looking up into his face. “I never get tired of singin’ for a crowd.”

  “You wouldn’t be just telling me that now, would you?”

  “Oh no! I really mean it!”

  Archie laughed. “I know you do. I was just jesting.”

  Elmer chose that moment to enter. “ ’Scuse me for interrupting, but Al’s feelin’ mighty poorly. He don’t look so good, either.”

  “I thought he looked a mite peaked this evenin’,” Drusie observed.

  Archie scowled. “He’s been telling me he’s under the weather, but I hoped he could hold on. I don’t need him dropping out and gumming up the works.”

  “He cain’t help it if he’s sick,” Drusie pointed out.

  “Yeah, I know. Elmer, have you called a doctor?”

  Elmer nodded. “There was a doctor in the house, and he says Al needs to go home. He’s got pneumonia.”

  “Pneumonia!” Drusie said. “This is terrible!”

  “You said it!” Archie blurted. “Elmer, can you see to it that Al’s taken to the hospital? I’ll get everyone here rounded up and see if I can figure out a way to get another harmonica player.”

  “Will we have to cancel the tour if we cain’t find anybody?” Clara asked.

  “No, but your sound really changes without a harmonica. Wonder who we can get now?”

  Drusie didn’t hesitate. “Gladdie is a great harmonica player.”

  “He sure is!” Clara confirmed.

  “That’s swell, but doesn’t he work at a store?” Archie asked.

  “Yes, but I can ask him what he thinks of joinin’ us,” Drusie offered. “He knows every song Clara and I sing even better than we do.”

  “I won’t argue with you on that.” Clara twisted a stray curl. “But won’t that interfere with Mr. Goode trainin’ him to take over?”

  “Well, that’s not a done deal yet,” Drusie admitted. “The last time we talked over the telephone, Gladdie said that Mr. Goode listened to the offer he and his pa made, but he ain’t accepted it as of yet. But once the store’s sold, Gladdie will be tied to it right good. So I have a notion that him takin’ a little break to join our tour for a week or two may be just the thing for all concerned.”

  “Snazzy,” Archie said. “We can stay put while we get you girls new dresses and wait for Gladdie to catch up with us. If we play our cards right, we can make up the time on the road without havin’ to cancel a performance. I can let the radio station know we need to perform in the afternoon instead of morning.”

  All that planning made Drusie dizzy, but she could see that Archie had confidence in what he said.

  Archie directed his attention to Drusie. “Why don’t you use the telephone in the office to call Gladdie first thing tomorrow? You should be able to catch him at the store.”

  ❧

  “You told Drusie you’d do what?” Gladdie’s father was so taken aback that some of the slop missed the pig trough.

  Gladdie made sure to be more careful with his bucket. He didn’t need Pa fussing at him about the pig slop on top of everything else. At least
he’d thought far enough ahead to break the news to Pa while they were busy with chores. With bucket in hand, Pa couldn’t throttle him.

  If he was going to be a man, he had to act like one. Straightening himself, he looked Pa in the eye. “I told Drusie I’m joinin’ the band as a harmonica player. Don’t worry. I won’t run off and marry her or nothin’. I’ll be a gentleman like all the Gordon men are.”

  “I ain’t worried about that. I wonder if you’re just runnin’ away from your problems now that the store cain’t be yours.”

  “I ain’t tryin’ to run away, Pa. I admit that nothin’s been the same since I found out Mr. Goode took a better offer, but I wouldn’t run away. Maybe the timin’ of this whole thing with the band is God’s doin’.”

  The two men headed for the gate, and Gladdie held it open for his pa. The men were quick to exit before any pigs took a notion to escape.

  “So you cleared this with Goode already?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And he didn’t mind?”

  “No, sir. I think he knows in his heart he done wrong. Or not exactly right, anyway.”

  Pa stopped so short that the bucket hit against his leg, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Wonder who this mystery family is?” He snorted. “Probably them Moores.”

  “Hard to say, but I’d like to think they wouldn’t do such a thing.” Gladdie shrugged. “I reckon we’ll find out from Zeb.”

  “Zeb? What’s your brother got to do with this? I know he don’t care nothin’ for cipherin’ and all the other work that goes along with keepin’ shop.”

  “No, but he did say he’d like to take my place as clerk until I get back. I hope that’s okay with you. Is it, Pa?”

  They had reached the barn, and Pa motioned for Gladdie’s bucket so he could store both containers in their proper places until feeding time rolled around again. “I reckon so. You boys have to make your way in the world, and I have to get used to the fact I cain’t hold you here forever.”

  ❧

  A few days after Drusie placed the long-distance call to him, Gladdie caught up with the band. As soon as she spotted the familiar figure she loved emerging from a bus, Drusie ran to him. “Gladdie! I didn’t think you’d ever get here!”