32
A LIGHT TAP AT THE BACK DOOR roused Anna Mae. She stretched, trying to wake herself. In the last weeks of her pregnancy, she often grew tired midafternoon. She tried to nap when Marjorie napped, catching a few minutes of rest in the big, overstuffed chair that had been her daddy’s. Pushing herself clumsily to her feet, she plodded through the parlor to the kitchen and to the back porch. Her heart lifted when she spotted Mr. Berkley waiting on the small stoop.
‘‘Mr. Berkley.’’ She pushed the screen open. ‘‘Come in. Dorothy will be so pleased to see you.’’
He grinned and stepped through, sweeping off his hat as he crossed the threshold. ‘‘I made watermelon-rind pickles and thought you might like some.’’
Anna Mae took the jar of jewel-toned rinds. ‘‘Why, thank you. What a treat!’’ Anna Mae suddenly felt the desire to recall things from the past, knowing that soon she would be far away from this home. Pausing in the porch, she shared, ‘‘I remember Mama used to make these before Ben, Jr., left. After he died, though, we never grew melons.’’
He gave a solemn nod. ‘‘Yes, honey. I know.’’
She smiled fondly. Of course he knew. He knew most everything about her family. With a smile, she headed into the kitchen.
He followed her. ‘‘Girls napping?’’
‘‘Marjorie is. Dorothy’s out in the barn, playing with Ol’ Smokey.’’ She laughed lightly. ‘‘I wanted her to nap, but she’s watching for Jack. He promised a surprise earlier today, and she’s waiting for it.’’
Mr. Berkley didn’t smile. ‘‘A surprise?’’
Anna Mae nodded. ‘‘Yes. He was in a good mood this morning. Came right in the house and visited with me for the first time in . . . well, a while. I’m glad.’’ She remembered the kiss, and she frowned briefly. Then, seeing Mr. Berkley’s concerned expression, she forced a smile to her lips. ‘‘I’m sure he’ll be by here before too much longer. Do you want to have some coffee and visit with me while we wait for the surprise?’’
Mr. Berkley seated himself. ‘‘That sounds good. I’m curious about this surprise, too.’’
They chatted amiably while sipping coffee, and Anna Mae laughed at the stories he recalled about her little-girl years. Listening to him reminded her of listening to her own parents reminisce, and she made a determination that, no matter where she and the girls ended up in the next months, they would not lose contact with Ern Berkley.
As Anna Mae rose to fill his cup, the wheeze of the Model T intruded. She peeked out the window in time to see the car heave to a halt beside the house. Dorothy ran from the barn to greet Jack.
‘‘Jack’s here,’’ Anna Mae said, but Mr. Berkley was already out the porch door and heading around the corner.
Anna Mae watched Jack give Dorothy a large picture book. Her own heart lifted as the child’s face lit with pleasure. Immediately the little girl grabbed Mr. Berkley’s hand and tugged, pulling him toward the house. In moments the three of them came through the back porch, Dorothy calling, ‘‘Mama! Mama!’’
‘‘Shh!’’ Anna Mae stooped over and touched Dorothy’s lips with her fingers. ‘‘Your sister is sleeping. Don’t wake her.’’
‘‘Mama.’’ Dorothy lowered her voice to an excited whisper. ‘‘Look what Mr. Berkley got me. The House That Jack Built. See?’’
Anna Mae took the book and admired it for a moment, flashing a quick smile in Jack’s direction. ‘‘Oh, lucky you. Do you want to go read it now?’’
Dorothy took the book and sent Ern Berkley a hopeful look. ‘‘Papa Berkley, will you read it to me? Please?’’
The old man’s eyes crinkled with his grin. ‘‘I’d be glad to, honey. Want to go outside and sit under the tree?’’
‘‘Yes!’’ The child danced to the door. ‘‘C’mon! C’mon!’’
With a chuckle, Mr. Berkley followed her. He glanced back at Anna Mae and Jack. ‘‘I’ll be out here with Dorothy if you need me.’’
Anna Mae noticed Jack’s face crease into a brief scowl, but when he caught her looking, the scowl faded. He pointed to the parlor doorway. ‘‘Shall we go sit, too? Dorothy got her surprise. Now it’s your turn.’’
Remembering the way he had caught her off guard with that kiss this morning, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone in the parlor with Jack. But Mr. Berkley was right outside. Surely Jack would behave. She nodded. ‘‘All right.’’
Choosing the overstuffed chair, she lowered herself awkwardly onto the soft cushion. Jack stood in the middle of the floor for a moment, sending her an odd look, before crossing to the sofa and sitting on the end closest to her. The silence turned tense while she waited for him to speak, reminding her of times when she and Harley had been at an impasse. The thought brought a rush of sadness and loneliness, and she ducked her head, curving her hands around her extended belly.
‘‘Anna Mae?’’
Jack’s soft voice brought her head up. ‘‘Yes?’’
He sighed. ‘‘I’ve waited for you to come let me know if you were ready for my help. You haven’t come.’’
She nodded slowly. ‘‘I know. I . . . I haven’t known what to say.’’
He sucked in his lips, his brows crunching downward. Finally he nodded. ‘‘I know. I was hard on you. But you have to know I didn’t do it to hurt you.’’ He scooted forward to the edge of the cushion and stretched out his hand. His fingertips brushed her arm. ‘‘Do you believe me?’’
She really wasn’t sure if she believed him or not. Jack had become so unpredictable. She offered no reply. Several seconds ticked by, and he removed his hand, clamping it over his own knee.
‘‘I was hopin’, when I left here this morning, that I’d have some good news when I returned.’’ His voice sounded tight, underscored with frustration. ‘‘You see, I went to Hutchinson to the courthouse. I planned to take ownership of your property.’’
Anna Mae’s eyes widened. ‘‘You put a bid on my land?’’
‘‘Yep. I did.’’ He rubbed the underside of his nose and sniffed. ‘‘I wanted to offer it to you . . . along with me.’’ His hand slipped into his jacket pocket, and when he pulled it out, he held something in his fist. ‘‘I hoped we could combine our properties, put up more oil pumps—the surveyors figure there’s more oil under the ground—and . . . well, combine our lives, Anna Mae.’’
Slipping from the sofa, he knelt before her. ‘‘You know I love you. I’ve said all along I’d take care of you. Will you let me, Anna Mae? I can’t give you back your land, but I can offer you my home and my heart.’’ He uncurled his fingers. A small box rested on his palm.
Anna Mae stared at the box. The gold ring on her finger seemed to tighten as she stared at the box Jack held. How could Jack do this now, with Harley dead less than a month and her belly swollen with Harley’s child? Couldn’t he see how hurtful it was to think she could replace her husband so quickly? Her heart pounded, nearly covering the sound of Jack’s voice.
‘‘I know you’re still mourning Harley, but circumstances bein’ what they are, we can’t wait. You’re losin’ your home. You’ve got no place to go. But if you say yes, you can move in with me and Pop. You and your girls, you’ll be cared for.’’
‘‘You—you really tried to buy my land . . . for me?’’ Anna Mae struggled to make sense of everything Jack had said.
‘‘I tried, but someone outbid me.’’ Jack’s face twisted into a horrible scowl, and for a moment he tightened his fist around the ring box.
Anna Mae thought of the cheerful morning she’d shared with the girls. A lump formed in her throat. Soon someone else would be building memories in her house. ‘‘Do you know who?’’
‘‘I can tell you who bought the place.’’
Jack jerked to his feet and spun toward the parlor doorway. Mr. Berkley stood in the arched opening, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his faded overalls, his weathered face stoic.
‘‘Where’s Dorothy?’’ Jack asked.
Mr. Berkley poked his elbow tow
ard the outside. ‘‘Still under the tree, readin’ her new storybook to that big ol’ gray cat. She’ll be busy for a while.’’ He took a forward step. ‘‘So we can talk freely.’’ When his gaze settled on Anna Mae, she detected a deep sorrow that made her heartbeat pick up in sudden worry. ‘‘You want to know who bought your land, Anna Mae?’’
She licked her lips and gave a hesitant nod.
‘‘I did.’’
Jack’s face turned bright red, and his neck muscles bulged. ‘‘You, Pop? Why would you do that to me? Betray me like that?’’
‘‘Betray you?’’ Mr. Berkley removed his hands from his pockets and took another step into the room, the color in his cheeks rising. ‘‘You’re a fine one to talk betrayal. Why don’t you tell Anna Mae here why she never got any more letters or money from Harley?’’
‘‘Pop . . .’’
The word held an undercurrent of warning that prickled the hairs on Anna Mae’s neck. She struggled to her feet, her gaze on Jack, her heart pounding with trepidation. ‘‘Jack? What’s he talking about?’’
‘‘Nothing.’’ Jack snapped out the word and then grasped Anna Mae by the upper arm. ‘‘Come on. He’s getting old, goin’ over the edge. Let’s get out of here where we can talk in private.’’
Mr. Berkley stepped into Jack’s pathway, his palm against his son’s shirt front. ‘‘You aren’t going anyplace, son, until you’ve told her the truth.’’
The hold on Anna Mae’s arm constricted painfully. She wrenched herself free.
Jack slapped his father’s hand down and growled, ‘‘I’m warning you, Pop.’’
‘‘No, I’m warning you, son. I got the evidence in my back pocket right now.’’
Jack bristled, straining toward his father, his fist clenched. Anna Mae stepped between them, one hand raised to each man. ‘‘Please. I don’t know what this is all about, but I don’t want you fighting with each other. Please just calm down and—’’
Jack grabbed her again and pushed her aside. She cried out, grabbing her belly as a cramp caught her low on the left. Jack whirled on his father.
‘‘See what you made me do!’’ Immediately his expression became concerned as he put an arm around Anna Mae’s waist and guided her toward the sofa. ‘‘Are you all right, honey? Here, sit down.’’ He pressed her into the middle cushion and then sat beside her, holding her hand.
Mr. Berkley, shaking his head, looked on. ‘‘You’re not gonna get away with it, son. I couldn’t let you continue in your sin.’’
Jack scowled fiercely at him. ‘‘Takin’ care of Anna Mae? That’s sinful?’’
‘‘Yes, it is, the way you been doin’ it. Sneakin’ around, tellin’ her lies, makin’ her believe her husband abandoned her while all the while you was—’’
Jack was on his feet and across the room before Anna Mae could release a breath. ‘‘You better keep silent, old man!’’
But Mr. Berkley raised his chin a notch and glared back, equally fierce. ‘‘Or what, Jack? What’ll you do? Can’t be nothin’ worse than I’ve wanted to do to myself, standing aside and letting you go on deceiving her. But no more. I won’t be a party to it no more.’’
Pushing past his son, he crossed the room to stand, shamefaced, before Anna Mae. ‘‘I bought your land, Anna Mae, but I don’t intend to keep it. Soon as I have the title in hand, I’ll sign it right back over to you. Shouldn’t have been taken in the first place, and it wouldn’t’ve been had Harley’s checks got through to you. So your land—that’s my first gift to you. As for the second . . .’’ He reached behind his back and then brought his hand around. He offered her a cluster of envelopes, tied together with dirty white string.
Anna Mae reached for the packet, her hands trembling. When she realized what she held, her jaw dropped open, but she was too stunned for words.
Mr. Berkley nodded, his expression grim. ‘‘The letters you sent to Harley and the letters he sent to you—far as I know, they’re all in there.’’ He glanced over his shoulder at Jack, who remained in the middle of the floor, his expression still angry, but also defeated. ‘‘Found ’em in Jack’s bureau drawer. He’s been keepin’ ’em from you. He oughta be the one to tell you why, but he probably won’t do it. So . . . I’ll try. And when I’m done, I hope you’ll forgive me.’’
33
THE VEINS IN JACK’S TEMPLES throbbed visibly. With his gaze aimed through the parlor doorway, he remained stubbornly silent.
Watching his son, Ern took a deep breath. ‘‘Well, at least tell Anna Mae how much that oil from her property has made and promise to pay her back.’’
Jack spun toward him, his eyes narrowed to slits. ‘‘I never touched one penny of that money! It’s all set aside. I never planned to keep it!’’
‘‘Good. That’s one small right in a heap o’ wrongs. And I intend for Anna Mae to know every one of those wrongs done.’’ Ern crossed his arms. ‘‘You planning to stick around while I tell her?’’
With a thrust of his jaw, Jack made his answer clear.
‘‘Fine, then. Go get her money and bring it over here. I oughta be done by the time you get back.’’
Jack stormed through the parlor door. In seconds, the slam of the kitchen door signaled his departure. Ern sighed, his heart heavy. He turned slowly to face Anna Mae, who sat white-faced and silent in the middle of the sofa where Jack had left her. Ern’s knees felt suddenly weak, and he sank down next to her, allowing his head to droop low.
He sighed. ‘‘Where to begin?’’
Anna Mae touched his knee. Her fingers trembled. ‘‘Maybe start with these letters . . . and how they didn’t reach their destinations.’’
Ern nodded. He started with the letters, telling how Jack apparently took them and hoarded them in his bureau drawer. Next he shared how Jack convinced the oilmen to place that pump on her property by assuring them the land would be his in a few more weeks. He finished by telling her about Jack bidding on her land. ‘‘And, honey, I suspect he wasn’t planning to tell you he’d bought it—at least, not at first. I think he really wanted you to have to lean on him.’’ Ern felt worn out by the time he had laid everything out. His heart ached for his son’s deceitfulness.
Anna Mae shook her head. ‘‘I really feared Harley had just left, and all that time . . .’’ She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, still shaking her head in disbelief. ‘‘There were moments when I would get a feeling . . . I can’t describe it, but I told myself I was being silly—that Jack would never do anything to hurt me.’’
Ern took her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘‘Jack did lots of things wrong in the past months, that’s for sure. Hurtful, selfish things.’’
‘‘But why?’’ Anna Mae’s forehead crinkled. ‘‘He told me over and over again that he cares for me. Why would he do all that sneaking around, things he knew would be hurtful, if he cares for me?’’
Ern closed his eyes for a moment and prayed for guidance. Father-instinct made him want to defend Jack, yet he knew he needed to be honest. Meeting Anna Mae’s gaze, he formed his answer. ‘‘Honey, I believe deep down Jack does care for you. You were his first love, and he’s never really let it go. When he saw the chance to have you in his life, he set all reason aside and went after you. It didn’t matter if it was God’s will, or if it was best for you, he just wanted what he thought was best for himself.’’ He paused, swallowed, and finished quietly. ‘‘Jack convinced himself he was doin’ all this for your own good, but it wasn’t. It was for his own good. A body should never get so self-focused that others and their feelings cease to matter.’’
Anna Mae nodded, a pensive look on her face. Her hand still in his, she asked, ‘‘But you bought my land instead?’’
‘‘Yes, I did. Couldn’t let Jack get it. I had to disrupt his plans somehow, and it was the only thing I could think of.’’
‘‘But where did you get the money? I thought Jack owned your property now.’’
Ern allowed a small smile to cr
eep up his cheeks. ‘‘Well, Jack has title to the land, that’s true. But I own the cows.’’ He shrugged. ‘‘I sold off some of my stock to a dairyman from eastern Oklahoma. Enough, at least, to put in a good bid for your place.’’ Her look of dismay brought a chuckle from his throat. ‘‘Now, honey, don’t look so stricken. Old man like me doesn’t need a big ol’ herd mooin’ around, takin’ up his time.’’ He walked to the front door and peered down the road. ‘‘Jack’s been gone more’n long enough to fetch that oil money. I wonder what’s keeping him.’’
Anna Mae pushed to her feet. It looked like it took some effort, with her extra bulk out front. She stood beside him. ‘‘Do you want to go check on him?’’
He frowned. ‘‘I don’t want to leave you right now. You just got quite a shock.’’
‘‘I’m fine.’’ She touched his arm. ‘‘Really, Mr. Berkley. Go check on Jack. He—he may need you right now.’’
Ern gave Anna Mae a gentle hug, his throat convulsing. ‘‘You’re a good girl, Anna Mae.’’ He grasped her shoulders. ‘‘And don’t you worry. I know I’m old, but I’ll do what I can to help you out around here. You won’t be left unattended.’’
Her quavering smile cheered him. ‘‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned since Harley left for that castle site, it’s that I’m never alone. God’s always with me, and He’ll meet my needs.’’
He wrapped her in one more quick hug before heading to the back door. He called a good-bye to Dorothy, waved once more to Anna Mae, and then cut across the pasture toward his home. His heart pounded harder the nearer he got to his old farmhouse. He didn’t know what would happen when he faced Jack. He prayed Jack would ask forgiveness and work to make things right with both Anna Mae and his father.
Jack threw the third suitcase into the backseat of the Model T and slammed the door. He still wasn’t sure where he was going, he just knew he couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t face Anna Mae again, and he had no desire to speak to his father.
As he stomped around the hood of the car, his gaze swept across the pasture, the barn, and the contented cows. For a moment he faltered, his steps slowing. How would Pop get the milking done when his rheumatism acted up? He hadn’t been fully in charge of the chores for over five years. But then Jack set his jaw and hurried the final few feet to the driver’s door.
Where Willows Grow Page 26
