“Your wife’s expecting, Phillips. You’d better get on back to Piedmont, tend to your younguns, and keep an eye on her.”
The grin stayed on the man’s face, but it was different. Letty knew instantly that he didn’t like being called down in front of her and the other men. He continued as though the doctor hadn’t spoken.
“Name’s Oscar Phillips, ma’am. Ya’ll have to come callin’ on Clara if you’re stayin’ long. It’s bound to be lonesome out at Fletcher’s for a girl like you.”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying. My . . . husband will be coming for me.”
Oscar Phillips looked down at her ringless fingers then back up to her face. Something about the way he looked at her caused a trickle of fear to run up her spine.
“I live at Piedmont. Anybody can tell you where Oscar Phillips lives. Be glad to come fetch ya and . . . Mrs. Fletcher.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell Grandma.”
“I’ll take her, Doc. And without no pay. I ain’t forgettin’ that you spent two days with us when the kids come down with scarlet fever.” Letty’s eyes moved past the man standing close to the automobile and sought the one who spoke. He was older, his hair iron-gray. His bib overalls were worn but clean and patched.
“I’ll be obliged to you.” The doctor turned to Letty. “Get out, missy. You’ll be in good hands with Mr. Pierce. He’s got daughters about your age.”
Letty waited until Oscar Phillips moved back before she opened the door and stepped out on the running board.
“Ya ain’t goin’ to be ridin’ in no fancy automobile, missy,” Mr. Pierce said. “I’ll fetch the team and wagon. I’d as soon get started so’s I can get home afore dark.”
“It’s a long way out there,” the doctor said to Letty. “You want a bite to eat before you go?”
“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”
“Fetch a couple of those apples out of the barrel there on the porch, Lester,” Doc called. He went to the edge of the porch, took the apples, and wiped them on his coat sleeve. “Stubborn as old Jacob, ain’t you?” he muttered and dropped the apples into Letty’s handbag.
Letty was anxious to leave. She held out her hand to the doctor.
“Thank you, Doctor Whittier.”
“Don’t mention it.” He gripped her hand firmly. “Tell Jacob there’s a young doctor setting up practice in Piedmont. It’s a hell of a lot closer than Boley. But I’ll come if he gets word to me.”
“I’ll tell him.”
Doctor Whittier took her elbow to help her into the wagon when he saw Oscar Phillips step forward to assist her. Letty sat down beside Mr. Pierce, turned, waved, and sighed with relief that she was finally on the last leg of her journey.
CHAPTER
4
Letty watched the vanishing hills pick up colors of sun and sky and the prairie of bleached grass stretch into nothingness. The sky had split into layer upon layer of floating white clouds. An eagle appeared and spiralled upward, climbing higher toward the sun until it was only a speck in the vast emptiness.
Oh, to be an eagle to fly high and free. She would fly and fly until she found her beloved. Together they would make a world of their own, a family, out of their love for each other.
A sudden chill set her flesh trembling. Letty clamped her jaws tight to keep her teeth from chattering. It seemed to her that everything familiar was dropping away into the distance behind her, and the more it receded, the more frightened she became. Would she be turned away from her grandfather’s house? If that happened, she would be left with nothing but her own strength and wits to aid her. In all her fifteen years she had never been allowed to think for herself. Decisions were made for her—all except for one. She had chosen to sneak out and meet Mike, and she didn’t regret a single minute of the time she spent with him.
Mike, Mike, where are you?
The air was getting cooler. Letty hugged the shawl around her shoulders. Neither she nor Mr. Pierce had said a word since they left Claypool. In the hills now, the trail was overgrown and full of holes and jagged stones which Mr. Pierce skillfully avoided when possible. The team plodded on. A dead possum lay beside the road, its body grotesquely bloated. A jack rabbit bounded out of a thick growth of sumac and raced ahead of them to disappear in the brush. The only sounds to disturb the silence were the caw of a crow, the jingle of harnesses, and the thump of horses’ hooves. Then from a distance, Letty heard the whistle of a train.
“Is my grandpa’s place near the railroad tracks, Mr. Pierce?”
“About a half mile, I reckon.”
“If I’d known, I could have got off the train there and walked.”
“Train don’t stop till it gets to Piedmont.”
“How far is that?”
“Five miles, as the crow flies.”
Letty was conscious of the curious glances the man gave her. She forced herself to look straight ahead; her face remained calm, her feelings well bottled up inside her though she had never felt more like crying in her life.
They traveled a long way in silence, covering mile after mile of prairie before the track led them through country sprinkled with groves of oak and elm trees and scattered with little flat-topped hills that rose above the rolling terrain.
“How much farther, Mr. Pierce?”
“Jist a hoot ’n’ a holler now. That’s the Fletcher place yonder.” He pointed toward a clump of trees.
Letty’s heart raced until she thought it would gallop out of her chest. She held her cupped hand to her brow to shade her eyes as she stared toward the farm. After a while she could make out the buildings. The house hunched low by the side of the road, a barn and a windmill behind it. Tension knotted her stomach. Nothing about the place seemed familiar. Why should it? She had been only four years old when she was here. All she remembered of the visit was sitting on Grandma Fletcher’s lap and that Grandpa Fletcher had a white beard.
As they neared she could see that the house was built of rough lumber that had long since weathered to a soft, mellow gray. A narrow porch with a railing around it stretched across the front of the house, hemming in two front doors. The yard, thickly blanketed with large yellow leaves from a maple tree that loomed naked over the house, was enclosed with a paling fence, weathered like the house. A gate hung between two cedar posts. Above and behind the white-oak shingle boards of the roof, the wheel of the windmill turned lazily. The yard surrounding the farm building and house was tidy, the barn and sheds mended. It was not merely a farm; it was a home. The thought charged through the confusion in Letty’s mind.
“Here we are.” The wagon had stopped beside the gate.
Letty climbed down and stood holding onto the wagon. The front door opened. Letty felt an anguished moment of fear and a desire to run. The man who came out onto the porch had a head of thick white hair and a white beard.
“Howdy, Mr. Pierce,” he called.
“Howdy, Mr. Fletcher. Brung ya a visitor.”
“Won’t ya step down and sit a spell?”
“Thanky, but I’d better get on back. Been to the blacksmith in Claypool. How’s the missus?”
“Fair to middlin’. Yours?”
“Mrs. Pierce’s tolerable, thanky. One of the younguns stepped on a nail a while back.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
A flush started at Letty’s throat and worked up onto her face when she realized she was being ignored for the second time that day while men made small talk.
“Give a howdy to Mrs. Fletcher from me and Mrs. Pierce.”
“I’ll do that.”
Mr. Pierce looked over his shoulder to see if Letty had pulled her suitcase off the tailgate of the wagon. Old man Fletcher wasn’t pleased to see the girl: that was sure. Well, it wasn’t his affair. He slapped the reins against the backs of the horses.
“Good day to ya, Mr. Fletcher.”
“Mr. Pierce,” Letty called. “Wait. I want to thank you.”
“Ain’t no need. I done it for
Doc.”
“Well, thanks anyway,” she said lamely. “Goodbye.”
The wagon pulled away. Letty licked dry lips and waited. Her grandfather stood there, making no move to welcome her. She tried to swallow, but her throat was closed with fear. His steady look was so unnerving that she was afraid she would burst into tears. Finally he spoke.
“Well, come on in, girl.”
Letty picked up her suitcase and went through the gate. The old man’s face was well-creased, weather-seasoned. Sharp eyes bored into hers as if he were trying to see into her mind.
“Hello, Grandpa. Do you remember m-me? Letty?”
“Letty who?”
“Letty Pringle. Mable’s youngest daughter.”
“I figured ya was one of Mable’s. Hellfire! Last time I saw ya, ya was ass-high to a duck. Mable’s girl. Well, I’ll be switched. What ya doin’ here, girl?”
The harsh tone of his voice sliced through the last bit of Letty’s control. Unwanted, embarrassing tears flooded her eyes; her lips quivered.
“I . . . I came to v-visit.”
“Yore Pa know you’re here?”
Letty shook her head.
“Ya run off from home?”
She shook her head again. “Papa th-threw me out. I had no place to go,” she blurted. “I’ll not be a bother. I p-promise.”
The old man growled an unrecognizable word. With his head cocked to the side, he looked steadily into her pleading eyes.
“Warn’t ya prayin’ loud enough to suit the bastard?”
“It wasn’t that exactly—”
“Never mind.” He cut off her words with an impatient wave of his hand. “I’ve had a craw full of that self-righteous, mouthy jackass. Dry up before yore grandma sees ya. Hear? Gimme that.” He took the suitcase from her hand and went into the house. Clutching her handbag to her breast, Letty followed.
The minute she stepped through the door, the feeling of home closed around her. The small house had the smell, the feel, and the look of a place loved by the people who lived in it. Dominating the small room was a huge piano draped with a fringed scarf. A round stool covered with faded blue velvet was pushed up under the keyboard. Two straightbacked chairs, also velvet-covered, and a library table were the only other pieces of furniture in the room.
Jacob set Letty’s suitcase down and went through the door into what appeared to be the heart of the house. It was a long room that spread across the back with a fireplace at one end. A black iron cookstove with pots, pans, skillets, and sundry utensils hanging around it took up the other end. On a line stretched diagonally across the range, dish towels were drying.
These details came only vaguely to Letty’s notice as her grandfather moved past a round oak table to where her grandmother sat in a huge padded chair.
“Looky here who comed to see us, Leony. It’s Letty,” he said with a gentleness that seemed strange coming from such a big gruff man. “Mable’s youngest girl has come a visitin’.”
“Hello, Grandma.”
Grandma Fletcher looked like a child sitting in the big chair with a quilt over her lap. She was a tiny, doll-like woman with snow-white hair twisted in a knot on the top of her head. The skin on her face was as soft and pink as a baby’s. Eyes as blue as the sky sparkled with pleasure. Her lips curved with the welcoming smile Letty had hungered for.
“Well, now. Don’t this just beat all? Bend down, child, and let me get a look at you.” Letty knelt down. Her grandmother reached up, took the hat from her head, and held it in her lap. “My, my, my. Ain’t you just as pretty as a picture.”
Tears began to roll down Letty’s cheeks. She glanced quickly at the big, silent man standing beside the chair. He was scowling down at her. Oh, Lordy! He had told her to dry up. She couldn’t bawl! She just couldn’t. Her reasoning did nothing to stop the tears that flowed. She turned her face away and tried to wipe her eyes with her sleeve.
“The child’s plumb wore out, Jacob.” A gentle hand came up to Letty’s head and smoothed the hair back from her forehead. Letty buried her face in her grandmother’s lap and let the tears flow.
Here was the loving acceptance she had been searching for all her life.
* * *
During the days that followed Letty proved to be a great help to her grandfather. She took over the household chores. The only outside work she was permitted to do was feed the chickens and gather the eggs. After a while Letty began to wonder how Grandpa had managed to take care of his wife, the house chores, and the farm. Letty liked to cook. Although she had cooked at home, she had not learned to make biscuits and pies. Under her grandmother’s supervision she made both and they were surprisingly good. There was an abundance of foodstuff: milk, eggs, potatoes, pumpkins, hams, bacon, deer meat, and also huge tins of flour, sugar, and crocks of lard.
While she worked, she and her grandmother chatted companionably. Leona asked if Mable and Cora were well. Beyond that, the family or the reason her father made her leave home was never mentioned.
Letty had never known a sweeter, gentler person than Grandma Fletcher. Leona had a weakness in her legs that prevented her from standing on them. She told Letty that it was caused by a high fever during an illness about five years ago. Her legs were useless but not her hands. They were always busy. With Letty to fetch for her, she was able to do a number of household chores. She churned, shelled beans, peeled apples for pies, pieced quilts, and crocheted.
As the days passed, Letty would have been almost happy if not for worrying about what her grandparents would say when they found out she was unwed and expecting a child.
Fascinated by the love that existed between the two old people, Letty was certain it would be the same between her and Mike. Never a cross word was spoken. Grandpa’s face would soften when he was with his Leona. He lifted her as carefully as if she were a baby when he moved her from the deep padded chair to the one he had mounted on rollers to take her to the other parts of the house. The look of peace and happiness on Leona’s face amazed Letty. It was no wonder Jacob loved her to distraction and was always trying to figure out ways to make things easier for her.
To this home Jacob had brought his bride forty years ago. It bore no mark but theirs. In Letty’s upstairs room was the iron bedstead and the dresser with the cracked mirror they had brought with them. Covering the bed was a patchwork quilt Leona had made from pieces of her dresses and Jacob’s shirts. It was called a crazy quilt because the pieces were put together without a pattern. Each piece of material held a memory, Leona said.
One day during the noon meal, Leona asked Letty if she played the piano.
“I play some but not as well as Mama.”
“We bought the piano for Mable. I taught her what little I knew. She had natural talent and learned the rest by herself.”
“The blasted thin’ was the ruination of her,” Jacob grumbled.
“She played it beautifully.” Leona reached across the table and gave Jacob’s hand a squeeze.
“She taught Cora and me to play,” Letty said. “But she always played for the church service.”
“Damn brayin’ jackass wouldn’t a give her a second look if not for the playin’.”
“We don’t know that, Jacob. You’re a good cook, Letty,” Leona said, trying to change the subject, but Jacob refused to let it die.
“Never could abide a religion made up of don’ts, cryin’, and speakin’ in tongues. Jist all a big show if ya was to ask me.”
“You’ll make some man a good wife someday, Letty.” Leona was just as determined to change the subject.
“If’n a clabberheaded, flimflam of a preacher don’t glom onto her first and fill her head with tommyrot notions.”
“There’s no danger of that!” Letty blurted. “I’ll never, never marry a preacher!”
“Then ya got more brains than yore ma had. She thought he was somethin’ grand standin’ up there cryin’, preachin’ ’n’ havin’ folks put their hard-earned money in the hat when he passed it.
” Jacob speared a biscuit with his fork.
“Now, Jacob,” Leona chided gently.
“She still thinks he’s grand,” Letty said, feeling the weight of her mother’s rejection once again.
“Mable chose the kind of life she wanted. We had no hold on her.” Leona reached for Jacob’s hand again.
“Ungrateful twit is what she is.”
Letty looked up to see her grandma slowly shaking her head at Jacob. After that an uneasy silence fell on the room and it lasted until the meal was over.
As the days passed, the guilt that lay like a stone on Letty’s heart grew heavier. Already her dresses were getting too tight at the waist, her breasts were sore and swollen. More than anything, she dreaded telling her grandparents her secret. Jacob planned to go to town on Saturday. Now that Letty was here, he no longer had to fetch one of the neighbors to stay with Leona while he was away from the farm. Did she dare ask him to mail the letter to Mike’s mother that lay on the dresser in her attic room?
By Friday night Letty’s nerves were at the breaking point. She logically reasoned that if they wanted her to leave after she told them her secret, she could ride to Piedmont with Grandpa the following morning, that is if he could get one of the Watkins girls to stay with Grandma. The Watkinses were their closest neighbors, and the girls had been hired from time to time to help in the house.
After the supper dishes were washed and put away, Letty wiped her hands on the towel and hung it over the stove to dry. The lamp in the middle of the table cast a soft, cozy light. Grandma was braiding carpet rags; Grandpa sat at the table making a list of what he had to get when he went to town. Fearing her grandparents would turn on her as her parents had done, Letty was nevertheless determined not to spend another sleepless night thinking about what she would do if they asked her to leave.
Her throat felt as if it were clogged with a cotton ball. She cleared it and went to stand behind one of the high-backed chairs. A wave of sweat moved across her back and sprang through the pores of her hands and face. She gripped the knobs on the chair as if they were a lifeline and she were being washed away in a flood.
Ribbon in the Sky Page 5
