by Karen M Cox
“No, Dad.”
“Well then…” His voice drifted off.
“Actually, now that I think on it, there is something I want to ask you.”
His guard went back up immediately. “What is it, Son?”
“What makes some people mean?”
“Mean?”
“Yeah, not evil or horrible, but just a little bit—I don’t know—mean?”
“I think people can become mean for a lot of reasons—pride, jealousy, selfishness, greed… Wait, are you talking about the Quinlan girl? The dark-headed one? I saw her leave with Jeannie and you boys.”
I nodded.
“Ah. Well, I don’t know for sure about Miss Quinlan, of course, since we barely know her. I do wish Tom Quinlan had been more faithful about bringing his family to worship service these last few years. Those girls ought to have been brought up in church. Perhaps life would be different for the lot of them.” Dad rubbed his chin, deep in thought for a second. “But back to your question—think about this a moment. What does a wounded animal do if you approach it?”
“It snarls at you. It growls.”
“And if you try to help it?”
“It might bite,” I answered, anticipating the obvious place he was taking this analogy.
“That’s right. Now a beloved pet, like a dog or a cat, might let its master help it—maybe—because it’s known the kindness of its master’s hand. The master pets it, feeds it. But the wild animal has never known that kindness, so it is very likely to bite anyone that gets too close.”
“I understand.”
“Not that well-loved house pets don’t bite their masters, because you and I both know that sometimes they do, even if the master has been kind.”
I waited.
“From what I’ve seen and heard, Lizzie Quinlan is acting a lot like one of God’s wounded, wild creatures—one who may not know the kindness of the Master’s hand, which, as a minister, distresses me. You should show her Christian compassion, witness to her.”
“I thought that’s where you were going with this.”
He smiled very briefly; then he sobered. “Just remember, the wounded don’t always recognize kindness for what it is. They might try to bite you regardless of your intent. Be careful, Billy Ray.”
I straightened up and closed the armoire. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ll see you at breakfast.” He stood and patted me on the shoulder. “Goodnight, Son.”
“Goodnight.”
After Dad left, I turned the little fan on my dresser to a low hum, undressed, and lay on top of the covers, hands folded behind my head. A cool, damp breeze fluttered the curtains and drifted over me. As my body cooled off, so did my angry thoughts. In their place, shame flared up as I remembered the rude comment Lizzie Quinlan overheard me say to Charlie. I wish I’d never uttered those words. They were beneath me. It bothered me to know that I was guilty of repeating gossip. Lizzie might be wounded, but it seemed to me she really didn’t want to hurt anyone. Perhaps I should practice a little more compassion in these situations, like I’d been taught. I wondered, though, what had happened to make her as prickly as a porcupine. Then I wondered if perhaps she was too injured to ever recover, even under the best kindness others could offer her.
Thankfully, the next day was cooler. A breeze blew all morning, chasing white clouds with gray centers across the sky. We walked into the church, sitting atop a little knoll on the outskirts of town. It looked like almost every other church on Dad’s circuit—white clapboard exterior with chipped paint revealing gray, weather-beaten wood underneath. One simple, stained-glass window adorned the front, and a few plain windows were scattered along the sides. Inside, an aisle divided the dark wooden pews down the middle. The floor was the same dark wood with a burgundy aisle-runner, frayed at the edges, leading the way to the altar. The pulpit was a rich, golden brown, pock-marked and marred but heavy and eternally solid. I remembered how it issued a deep, reverberating thud whenever my dad struck it with the palm of his hand during his sermons.
The Quinlan girls were lined up in the second to last pew. Jeannie was the leader of the crew in the absence of their parents. Next to her were two younger girls—Carla looked to be about eleven or twelve and Lily was about six or so. Lizzie sat at the other end of the younger two Quinlans, bookending them in conjunction with Jeannie. I stole a couple of looks at her. Her curls hung down around her shoulders, the sides pinned back with some kind of hair doo-hicky that girls use. The dress she wore was simple, modest, but stretched tight across the bosom like her gingham shirt was yesterday. Her lips were still painted that red color. It looked almost garish in the morning light and against that prim, little dress. Our eyes met once before church began, but after giving me a long, serious look, she turned her head, and I couldn’t attract her gaze again. Not that I was trying to, of course.
I was sitting near the front with Dr. Miller on one side of me and Charles on the other. It had been touch-and-go there for a minute whether I’d have to sit next to Marlene, but under the guise of being gentlemanly, I gestured for the Miller ladies to go first and then waited, out of respect, for Doc to enter the pew before me. That seating arrangement saved my sanity because Marlene couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. And I wouldn’t put it past her to try and give my thigh another squeeze when she thought no one was looking—even if we were in a church pew.
I leaned slightly toward Charlie and whispered, “Why aren’t you sitting with Jeannie?”
“I didn’t know she was coming with her sisters in tow. It’s been ages since they were all here together. Mr. Quinlan stopped coming to church years ago, but Mrs. Quinlan would still bring the girls till about the last three or four years. Now they come sporadically at best when Mr. Collier conducts the service, but the girls are all here today, and Jeannie wanted to sit with her sisters. Their mother is still recovering from the baby, so she stayed home.”
I almost laughed at how much of an expert on the Quinlan family Charlie had become, but he wasn’t finished yet.
“Actually”—he opened the bulletin and folded it back, creasing it so it was inside out—“Jeannie said Lizzie insisted on coming to worship this morning.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s good that both Jeannie and Lizzie are here. Carla will sit quietly no matter what, but Lily needs the two older girls to corral her.”
I didn’t comment further because Dad had begun his sojourn from the back of the sanctuary, which meant the service was about to start. There was a buzz of excitement throughout the congregation. Having the minister in town was a special occasion of sorts. I had the feeling the services led by the lay minister, Mr. Collier, left a lot to be desired.
Church went long that morning, because Dad had baptisms to do in addition to the sermon. People wanted to talk to him after the services too, and after waiting alone in the stuffy church for at least twenty minutes, I decided to go outside for some fresh air.
There was a cemetery out back, a variety of headstones—some new, some ancient and sticking up, snaggle-toothed, above the grass. A lot of people are afraid of graveyards, but I always found them peaceful, except for the one where Mama was laid to rest. That one just made me miss her.
A cluster of trees bordered one side, so I walked around the fence toward the welcoming shade. One of the trees was split in two, all the way to the ground, so I braced my back against one trunk and put one foot against the other. My eyes caught a flicker of movement, and I saw Lizzie Quinlan walking toward me, her skirt whipping around her legs. The warm breeze tossed her hair in a frolicking, chaotic dance around her head and shoulders. Her eyes met mine, but she didn’t look angry, nor did she give off the sparkling fireworks I’d seen when she spoke with Charles and his dad. It wasn’t the sultry, disturbing look from the day before either. Instead, her gaze held the barest hint of a warm glow, like a candle flame flickering in the breeze. I had planned on waiting for her to speak but found myself greeting her first anyway.
�
�Morning, Lizzie Quinlan.”
A shy smile crossed her lips, and she looked down at her shoes. I noticed they were the same shoes she wore to the lake yesterday. “It’s afternoon now, Billy Ray.”
I stayed very still, afraid to make a noise, afraid to move. If I did, I had the distinct impression she’d bolt, and that would be the end of ever seeing behind that hard shell of hers. What I wanted to see there, or why I wanted to see it, I had no idea.
She inhaled and exhaled deeply, straining the buttonholes on her dress to their breaking point. Out in the sunlight, I noticed that her lips didn’t look quite as lurid as they did inside the church.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t speak to me after yesterday. You ran off before I could say anything. By the time I got back home, you and your daddy were gone back to Dr. Miller’s.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I was mad at you.”
“I know, and I had all night to think about it.” She closed her eyes briefly and then looked me directly in the chest. “I’m sorry for teasing you and for pretending I was gonna drown myself. I didn’t know about your mama, honest.”
Now, that took me by surprise. An apology was the last thing I expected from the girl who acted so prickly the day before. I paused a minute, but given who I was, what I’d been taught, there was really only one answer—even though it didn’t feel genuine.
“I forgive you.” The words tasted like sawdust in my mouth, false and dry—a rote response to repentant words I’d heard uttered many times before, between many other people.
Then, her eyes darted up to look in mine, and the whole world stopped turning on its axis. I was trapped, suspended by her stare, and frozen in time. It took me a minute to realize she’d kept on speaking.
“I almost lost my mama a few years back. She about near died when one of my brothers was born. I was really scared, ’cause I can’t imagine life without her.”
“I didn’t know you had any brothers.”
She nodded. “Two. That one was stillborn. The other one died when he was three months old.”
“I’m sorry.” That sounded warmer, more like the real me, rather than the dutiful minister’s son.
Pulling my hand out from under my crossed arms, she tugged me along behind her. “Come here, I’ll show you.” She led me to two small gravestones standing side by side. One engraving said “Thomas Quinlan, Jr.” and the other said “Jeremiah Quinlan”.
“Having Jeremiah almost killed Mama. He was the one after Lily. That’s why Doc was so concerned about her when Baby Susie was born last month. Thomas was born after Carla. He died of crib death when I was eight.”
“How old are you now?”
“Old enough,” she answered, a wicked grin spreading across her features. But I kept staring her down, and she shrugged. “I’ll be nineteen in November.”
A little girl’s voice called across the yard. “Hurry up, Lizzie! We gotta go home now!”
“Coming!” She turned to me. “See ya round.”
“Would you like me to walk you home?” What on earth had put that idea in my head?
Her expression turned wary. “Aren’t you riding back with your dad?”
“He’ll be tied up at the church for a while. He’s used to me getting back to wherever we’re staying on my own.”
“I live on Linden Road, so it’s out of your way.”
“I’ll walk you to the turn-off then.”
“Okay.” She seemed almost nervous.
“If you’d rather not be seen with me…” I began, half-smiling.
“Oh no! No. It’s fine if you want to walk me home.” She shrugged. “I was just surprised that you’d want to when Jeannie and Carla and Lily will be there too. I won’t be alone. Usually, fellas aren’t too interested in being with me unless they can get me somewhere by myself.”
“I’m not most fellas.”
“Sure you aren’t.” She shot me an amused look as we started walking toward the road. “I overheard Dr. Miller tell someone that you were going to stay and work with him this summer.”
“Mm-hmm. I’m going to be a doctor, and Charlie’s dad was kind of my inspiration so…”
“Doc is one of the best people I know. I can see why you would admire him. Are you going to medical school this fall?”
I nodded.
“So, you’ll be here all summer?” She turned and walked backwards as she talked.
I smiled, and she stopped in her tracks for a second, staring at me, lips parted. Then she shook her head and kept walking. Jeannie and Carla were up ahead of us by several yards, and Lily was skipping along behind them.
“Charles is nice, like Doc, but those sisters of his are horrid. Hanging around with them won’t be any fun.”
“I’m not actually staying in their house. I’m living in one of the patient rooms at the doctor’s office.”
“Oh, that’s better then. If you were at the Millers’, you might wake up one morning with Marlene curled up in your bed with you. She’s been talking all over town about how she’s got you all to herself this summer and saying that by September, you’ll be hers.” Her words were glib, but I caught a hint of warning under the sarcasm.
I stopped, shocked that even Marlene would make such a forward suggestion. “She’s mistaken. I’m here to work with Dr. Miller, not run around with her all summer long.”
“Oh, I knew she was lying. Her mouth was movin’.” A bitter note crept into her voice.
I put my hands in my pockets and looked off in the distance.
“Just like a preacher’s son. You won’t talk bad about her, will you? Even if she talks about you first?”
“I was recently reminded how much gossip hurts people. I’m trying to do better.” I wondered if I should say the apology that was on my lips, but she reached over and squeezed my forearm. Her eyes shone and told me she’d just received my sentiment loud and clear, but I said it anyway.
“I was wrong to repeat the rumors I heard about you. I won’t do that again.”
Her voice was sweet and soft, and it warmed a place deep in the pit of my stomach. “Thank you. I’ll try to do better, too, and not tease you anymore.”
We walked a while in silence until we came to the turn off for Linden Road. Her sisters were standing there waiting for her, Jeannie eyeing me with a cool, appraising stare.
“Bye, Billy Ray. I’ll see you around.” Lizzie’s face broke into a bright, happy smile, summoning an involuntary grin from my own lips.
“See ya,” I said as I turned back around, continuing up the road that would lead me back to the Millers’ and a pot roast Sunday dinner.
Chapter 4
Dad left the next day, leaving me in Orchard Hill under Dr. Miller’s tutelage. Our parting this time was like so many previous goodbyes—a heartfelt hug and a “God bless you and keep you.” We had said farewell a hundred times before, during the school years and when I went to college, and we were well practiced at it.
From the very start, I loved working at Dr. Miller’s office. It was one interesting place to be; that was for sure. We saw food poisoning, cuts that needed stitches, a broken nose from an errant baseball, and a case of heat stroke. We took care of them all, except for one man who fell off a roof and broke his arm—we sent him to the hospital in the next town.
I was surprised to discover that not everyone was treated with the medicines that lined the shelves of Mr. Lucas’s pharmacy around the corner. This came to light one morning when I was fetching a chart for Doc.
The front doorbell rang, the door opened slowly, and I realized that the person behind it was having trouble getting in. The bottom end of a cane poked through then stopped. I strode over to the door and gradually opened it so as not to startle the person or make him lose his balance.
But he wasn’t a he; he was a she—a tiny, wizened woman with white hair and a hunched posture. She smelled faintly of liniment and, if I wasn’t mistaken, cats.
“Thank you, young man.” Her voice wa
s thin, and it crackled like yellowed paper when you wadded it up. “That door gets heavier every time I come in. Sooner or later, I’ll just have to wait outside until someone comes in or goes out.” She cackled at her own joke.
“Are you ill, ma’am? Do you need to see Dr. Miller?”
“Ill? Oh no—no more than usual. Just old: ninety-one years old to be exact. I’ve lived out my time, and now I’m borrowing someone else’s.” She squinted up at me. “Who are you, sonny? You look familiar.”
“Billy Ray Davenport, ma’am.”
“Hmm. Do I know your mama?”
I suppressed a smile. Boy, if I had a dime for every time I heard that question! “No, ma’am. I’m not from here.”
“Oh. Could’ve sworn I’d seen you before.” She began to hobble over to a chair, so I took her arm.
“You here to see Doc too?”
“No, ma’am. I work here.”
“You work here?” She sat down with a big sigh and eyed me again. “You’re a little young to be a doctor, ain’t ya?”
“I’m not a doctor. I’m just helping out this summer. What can I do for you?”
“Oh, well then. I’m Mrs. Long, and I’m here for my tea. So just scamper along and get it for me, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Tea?”
“Yes. I’ve brought my money too, so you needn’t worry about that.”
Now I was considerably more confused.
“Your tea?”
“Yes, for my rheumatism. Be quick about it now. I don’t want to take time away from all the sick people.”
I looked around to be sure, but there was no one else in the office. Having no idea what she was talking about, I went to fetch Doc. He smiled and said he’d be out to talk to her in just a minute.
While I waited with her, she asked me again who I was, why I was there, who my mama was, and what was wrong with me. Finally, much to my relief, Doc came into the waiting room.
