Son of a Preacher Man

by Karen M Cox

  We hadn’t spoken since Thursday when Dad found us in front of the library. Whenever I walked by our usual haunts, she was never there. And now?

  She would hardly look at me, but she sat deathly still, her eyes darting back and forth, as if, like a scared rabbit, she might take off at any time. When I squeezed her shoulder gently, she glanced up and gave me a brief smile, but all during the service she hid behind a mask—not her bad girl mask as I had come to think of it, but a protective mask that shut out the entire world, including me. When we stood to sing, she shared my hymnal, just barely touching the side of the book. When we joined hands to pray, I could feel her pulse flutter against her wrist like the wings of a trapped bird. When she sang, her voice was so soft, I could barely hear her at all.

  Her only genuine smile appeared when Susie began to wail as the water touched her head during the dedication. Dad looked over at us then, his expression full of questions as if he were trying his darnedest to figure us out.

  About half-way through the service, Lily started jumping up and down again, and I leaned around Lizzie and said in a low voice, “Please sit down, gentle lady.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she did sit, and only the rhythmic swinging of her feet indicated that she was ready to run and play outside as soon as possible.

  When church was over, I stood and escorted the two Quinlan girls to the front of the church, so they could stand with their family and greet the congregation. I shook Mr. Quinlan’s hand, and he looked at me and at Lizzie, a bit confused. I congratulated Mrs. Quinlan, and she just gave me a tired smile and a thank you. Jeannie smiled at me approvingly, but Lizzie’s expression was still closed. I took her hand in mine, and she looked up at me.

  “I heard you were leaving with your daddy for Kingston tomorrow.” A flash of sadness appeared in her eyes.

  “Not if I can help it.” I squeezed her hand and turned to walk to the back of the church, leaving her standing there with a shocked look on her face.

  That afternoon, I found myself back at Doc Miller’s office, looking around at a room that, all of a sudden, seemed stifling. I picked up a box and methodically started piling my books and papers in it.

  When he’d returned from church about an hour earlier, Dad let me know he’d changed his plans and would be traveling that very afternoon to Kingston. He expected me to leave with him, but I had other ideas, and it was time to tell him.

  I’d had all morning to consider my situation. If I defied my father and stayed in Orchard Hill, it wouldn’t be right to put Doc in an awkward position with Dad, who was his long-time friend. I didn’t think Dad would hold it against Dr. Miller if he allowed me to stay at my job but living under his protection in his medical office might be pushing it.

  I walked over to the Millers and let myself in the back-screen door after a quick knock on the frame as I’d done so many times in the last few weeks. We ate Mrs. Miller’s meticulously prepared lunch, which, unfortunately, tasted like sawdust to me. Afterwards, over coffee and dessert, I told Doc and my father about my short-term agreement with Mrs. Gardener.

  “If I still have my job with you, Doc, I want to stay until September like we planned.”

  Doc’s eyes widened in surprise, and he sat back in his chair, putting his cup in his saucer. He glanced at my father, who shrugged one shoulder.

  “You’re welcome to continue working at the medical office, of course, Billy Ray.”

  Dad picked up the sugar spoon and twirled it in his fingers for a second, frowning. Marlene’s chair scraped the floor, and she stalked out of the room. Mrs. Miller, Louise, and Charlie all sat there, gaping at me.

  The other reason for me moving to Mrs. Gardener’s boarding house remained unsaid among us out of respect for Mrs. Miller. I wasn’t sure about her or Louise, but the men sitting around the table all knew that, if I was going to stay in Orchard Hill, I needed to put some distance between myself and the younger Miss Miller—especially after what Dad told me last night. If he and Doc were talking about Marlene’s behavior toward me, it must be pretty obvious to everyone. And here I always thought guys were the ones who made unwelcome passes at women, not the other way around! I guess I still had a lot to learn about the world in general and about women in particular.

  Late that afternoon, Dad and I stood by the 1949 Oldsmobile, not meeting each other’s eyes. I dug my toe in the gravel beside Doc’s driveway.

  “I’ll be back in Orchard Hill sometime in late August. Will you be returning to your aunt Catherine’s with me after that?”

  I set my mouth in a line. “I’ve committed to work for Dr. Miller until school starts the week after Labor Day.”

  Dad let out a resigned sigh. “I’m leaving you with misgivings and a heavy heart. Alvin says he will look out for you, but—”

  “I’m where I need to be, sir.”

  “I’m still astonished that my son would so blatantly disobey his father.”

  Remembering the words in Lizzie’s note, I replied, “Your son honors his promises as his father taught him, and so honors his father.”

  “Then for heaven’s sake, think before you make promises of any kind. Don’t take an oath that will bring you to ruin.” He cleared his throat. “I expect you to temper your friendship with Miss Quinlan.”

  I said nothing because there was nothing left to say.

  “I will pray for you to see the right path, Billy Ray.”

  “Thank you, sir. So will I.”

  There was no handshake, no father and son embrace, no “God bless you and keep you.” He simply got in the car and drove away. I had not felt this alone since the hours before my mother’s funeral. But I had brought it on myself, I suppose, by calling down my father’s cold judgment and his disapproval.

  After he disappeared from sight, I stood for almost ten minutes, staring at the road. I was reminded of the first time he left me at Aunt Catherine’s after Mama died. Back then, I had a strong urge to run after the car, but I didn’t because he told me I had to be a man. That little boy’s impulse returned like a rush of wind, but now I was a man in truth, and it was time to make my own way.

  Chapter 11

  After Dad left, I turned and walked over to the back porch of the medical office to pick up my suitcase. I’d return for the books later.

  Charlie came barreling down the steps with his dad’s car keys in hand.

  “Hey, Billy Ray! You don’t think I’d let you carry all that stuff over to Adalia Street on your back, do ya? Come on. We’ll load up Dad’s car, and I’ll drive you over.”

  “Thanks.” Charlie Miller really was a good guy, a true friend.

  He stepped up on the porch and grabbed my box of stuff. “Mom says you should still come over for meals. She’ll never forgive herself if you go hungry.”

  “Tell her I appreciate that, and I’ll be sure to let her know ahead of time if I can’t be there.”

  “Marlene’s in her room sulking because you’re leaving.” He shook his head. “Don’t know what gets into that girl sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could say this had nothing to do with her, but—”

  “Shoot, Billy Ray, you got nothing to be sorry about. It’s not like you encouraged her or anything. A blind man could see how that was gonna go. I suppose she thought having you right here close meant you were hers for the taking. She just neglected to get your consent beforehand.”

  I tried to think of something meaningful yet kind to say and came up with zilch.

  “Hey, I’ll miss having you right next door too”—Charlie went on—“but we’ll still get to see each other a lot. I’m at the Quinlans’ most evenings anyhow.”

  I wondered if Lizzie would still see me. I hoped so, but I wasn’t going to speak for her. “Why don’t you ever invite Jeannie over to your house?”

  “I would, but Marlene and Louise aren’t very nice to her.”

  “It’s your home too, Charlie. You should be able to invite your girl to visit.”

  “There
’s just so much upset and ill feeling when they’re together. Jeannie doesn’t trust Marlene because of what happened with Lizzie.” He shrugged. “It’s easier to go out some place in town, or over to Jeannie’s house.”

  Maybe it was easier in the short run, but if Charles was serious about Jeannie Quinlan, he should set his sisters straight about how he wanted them to treat her. But I guess he would have to figure that out for himself.

  We loaded up the car and turned out of the driveway.

  “I heard Dad telling Mom why you were leaving. She didn’t understand at first, and she was wondering if we’d upset your father.”

  I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

  “I know. Dad told her the reverend really wanted you to go back with him, and you thought if you stayed in the office, it might make bad feelings between them.”

  “I was worried about that at first, but Doc seemed to understand. And my father certainly doesn’t hold my decision against your father. Dad is nothing if not fair-minded.” Except when it comes to Lizzie. Out loud, I said, “And I think part of him is proud of me for keeping my promise. He wouldn’t have given in so easy otherwise.”

  We pulled up in front of the boarding house, and Charlie turned off the car. Mrs. Gardener came out the front door, waving to us.

  “Let’s get you settled then.” Charlie grinned at me and opened the car door.

  That evening I walked everywhere searching for Lizzie: the library, the laundromat, the Dairy Queen. She seemed to be avoiding me, which hurt more than I cared to admit. She and the buzz of excitement that surrounded her had become a welcome consternation in my life, and I was lonely without her company.

  It was two more days before I finally caught up with her. I heard the gate over at Mrs. Gardener’s slam shut, and my gaze went straight to the window, hoping. There she was, her stride brisk and energetic, wearing her cherry print dress, ponytail as bouncy as ever. An involuntary smile of relief accompanied the pounding of my heart, and I dashed out to the front porch.

  “Hey, Lizzie!” I called, waving like a complete nerd.

  She stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around. One hand was holding a jar of her mother’s tea, and the other lifted slowly to greet me. I couldn’t see her expression, and that drove me crazy, so I vaulted over the porch railing and called out, “Wait up!”

  She stood there, clutching the jar to her chest and looking around, while I jogged across the street. I didn’t run hard or anything, but I was still out of breath when I got there. Squelching the urge to put my arms around her, I put my hands in my pockets instead. “Hi.”

  “Hi yourself. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m staying here.” I pointed to the boarding house. “Didn’t Mrs. G tell you?”

  “Yeah, she told me. Why aren’t you at Doc’s office? It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

  “We were slow, so he let me go early.”

  “Oh.” She turned and continued on her way.

  “How’ve you been?” I asked, as I made to follow along behind her.

  “Fine, thanks.”

  “And your mama? And Lily?”

  A chuckle escaped her, and my stomach turned a flip.

  “They’re fine too.”

  I reached out and clasped her hand. “Lizzie, please wait. I’ve been looking out for you for two days.”

  She stopped, but she kept looking at her feet as she turned to face me. “I been busy.” She huffed and narrowed her eyes at me. “I didn’t come here to parade myself in front of your place, you know. I came for my mother’s tea.” She held it up. “I didn’t think you’d be here this time of day.”

  My heart sank. “Are you avoiding me?”

  She turned and started walking again. “Us being friends is coming between you and your father. I won’t do that. It’s not right.”

  I took her hand again to stop her. “Dad will come around eventually. He really is a good man. And besides, no one tells me who my friends are, remember?”

  She looked away from me and then back, biting her bottom lip in the most enticing way. It made me want to bite her lip, too, and find out what it tasted like. I forced my gaze from her mouth to her eyes. She was uncertain, her expression guarded, but she was softening; I could tell.

  Then I remembered what she said melted her like a puddle on the floor. Even Marlene said it cut a girl off at the knees. Might as well use it to my advantage. So, I smiled at her. I smiled with all the joy I felt when I saw her out the window. And I had her. I could see it in the pink stain on her cheeks and the way her eyes got all dark and round.

  “Dear sweet lord,” she whispered. “Turn that off, will ya? I’m ’bout to go blind.”

  Mischief and triumph rose up inside me and spilled over into my expression. “Not until you say you’ll let me walk you home.”

  She huffed with an unconvincing burst of air, trying to suppress a grin. “Okay, okay, you can walk me home.”

  We said little as we approached the Quinlans’ house. I was content to bask in her presence without any words to distract from our unspoken connection, and I was pretty sure she was feeling the same. When we got there, Lizzie opened the screen door, and I held it while she walked into the dim front room.

  “Mama!” she called. “I’m back!”

  “In the kitchen, honey.”

  Lizzie started toward the back of the room, and I waited patiently. She paused in the kitchen doorway and turned to me with a questioning look on her face.

  “Don’t you want to come in?” Her expression was guarded, and suddenly it occurred to me that she might take my reticence as unwillingness to be in her family’s home. That wasn’t it at all. Aunt Catherine and Dad taught me to wait until invited to come in past the entryway, but I sensed that in this house, that might be taken as rudeness.

  “I won’t disturb your mother?”

  She shook her head and gave me an impish smile. “You afraid of my mama, Billy Ray?” Her eyebrow lifted in another one of her compelling challenges.

  “Why no, Miss Quinlan, not in the least.”

  She gestured with her hand. “Come on in then.”

  I followed her into a kitchen with unfinished floors, a long, rough-hewn table with benches up and down the sides, and scratched appliances that had to be at least twenty years old. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, but surprisingly clean white curtains hung at the window over the sink. Mrs. Quinlan was standing there, breaking green beans into a stockpot.

  “You remember Billy Ray, don’t you, Mama?” Lizzie said, leaning over and kissing her mother on the cheek.

  Mrs. Quinlan turned around, surprised. I nodded my head. “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

  “Oh, hello.” Mrs. Quinlan’s soft voice sounded thin. I don’t know that I had ever seen the woman healthy and strong, but then she’d just had a baby.

  “Here’s your tea.” Lizzie set the jar on the counter. “Where is everybody?”

  Mrs. Quinlan turned back to her work. “Your father’s out at the barn. Jeannie took Lily outside, so she wouldn’t wake the baby again. I swear that child is wound up tighter than a spring. Carla’s hiding somewhere with her nose in a book, as usual.”

  Mrs. Quinlan ran some water over her green beans and put them on the stove. “Is this young fella stayin’ for supper?”

  I hesitated—was that an invitation? I looked to Lizzie for a clue, but her expression gave me none. I looked back at Mrs. Quinlan and realized with shock that she was counting potatoes as if she were worried there wouldn’t be enough.

  “Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am, but I can’t stay. Maybe some other time,” I added to let her know I wasn’t dismissing her.

  “All right, then. At least get the boy some iced tea, Lizzie, honey. It’s hotter than blazes this afternoon.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She walked to the cabinet and picked out a tall glass. I watched, fascinated, as she drifted across the room to the refrigerator and got out a pitcher. She humme
d while she filled the glass and brought it over.

  “Let’s go sit on the porch, shall we?”

  Her smile beckoned, and I wondered absently if she was aware of what her smile did to me. The next thing I knew, we were in the glider on the front porch, sitting together, me pushing the glider back and forth with my foot and sipping on the best sweet tea I’d had in ages.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

  “Didn’t you want any iced tea for yourself?” I asked her, determined not to sink under the spell of her flirtatious banter.

  She leaned over and covered my hand, holding the glass with her own. Keeping her eyes on me, she brought the tea to her lips and took several successive drinks. She guided the ice-cold glass to her neck and rested it against her collarbone, closing her eyes while a contented purr escaped her lips.

  “Mmm. That hits the spot.”

  I swallowed hard.

  Her eyes popped open and twinkled with affectionate amusement. Without looking away, I brought the glass to my lips and tipped it back. I was promptly assaulted with a clunk of ice cubes. Drops splashed on my cheeks and nose. Narrowing my eyes at her, I wiped them away.

  “You drank it all.”

  She laughed—a sweet, sultry laugh, and took the glass from me. “I’ll get you some more.” She started toward the door, but I caught her hand.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ve had my fill.”

  She shrugged and set the glass down on the porch rail. Leaning against it, she fixed me with a warm, sparkling look. I stood up, stepping almost close enough to brush her with my chest, and rested my hands on the porch rail, one on each side of her, thinking that would take that smug smile off her face. I was learning for the first time not only how much fun it was to be teased but also the enjoyment of teasing back.

  “I should get back to town.”

  “Oh?” Her voice was a tad breathless but otherwise betrayed no effect of my nearness.