Furnace Mountain: or The Day President Roosevelt Came to Town

by Rebecca Patrick-Howard

  Sam wasn’t home. She’d seen him in town with some of the little boys. They’d been running down the sidewalk, sticks in hand, pretending to be knights. People had smiled as they whooped and hollered. It was rare for her to see Sam act like a child and it had given her the incentive to pay a visit to his mother.

  Again, she knocked.

  When Ruth appeared in the doorway, Marianne almost gasped. The woman from two nights ago was gone. In place of her beautifully groomed hair was a bird’s nest atop a listless face. The corners of her mouth were tucked in and drawn; her hollow eyes were corpse-like. Her bedclothes were still on but there was a tear down the front that exposed her pale thigh. She walked slowly, a timid shuffle that made her appear decades older. When she opened the door and allowed Marianne to enter she was acutely aware of the mixture of body odor and grease emanating from the slender body that showed her to a chair.

  “I’m sorry I just showed up,” Marianne stammered. “But I thought you might like a pie for dinner. I’m not much of a cook, but I make do…”

  Ruth stiffly sat down in a chair across from Marianne, self-consciously tugging on her nightgown and tucking her dirty feet under her. “I wasn’t expecting anyone or else I would have been dressed. I…haven’t felt well. I’m sorry.”

  Marianne watched in dismay as Ruth’s eyes filled with water and overflowed. Ruth, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of the fact she was crying. She made no attempt to wipe her face or her nose, although both ran like water down her face.

  “Would you like me to take this in the kitchen?”

  Ruth nodded so Marianne got up and made her way down the hallway. The kitchen, like the front room, was organized and neat. The table might have been worn and the chairs unstable but everything had a place. There were tomatoes warming on the counter and potatoes in a bowl of water in the sink. She placed the pie on the table and left. On the way back to the front room, she passed a bedroom with the door open. A quick peek showed her a messy, unmade bed. Women’s clothing were scattered the floor. It wasn’t the unkempt nature of the room that drew her attention, however, but the smell.

  Embarrassed, Marianne returned to the front room. “I’m sorry,” she apologized softly. “I shouldn’t have come. I just thought…”

  “That we were friends?” Ruth laughed. The sound was coarse and dry and seemed to come from another room.

  “I had hoped,” Marianne replied, feeling small. She inched her way to the door, already feeling anxious. “I don’t have many women to talk to and I thought that since you were alone, maybe–”

  “Maybe I was fixed now? Maybe because I ate a dinner and went into town with Sam and cooked a few dinners that I’m okay? That maybe it’s alright to be around me now because you won’t have to feel uncomfortable?” Ruth spat the words out and stood up with a start.

  “You think I don’t want to feel better? You think I want to be like this? You think I don’t notice the way everybody looks at me? I wish I could be better. I wish I could go out for a dinner and come home and be fixed. I wish I could see the things that my son has done and that feeling proud would be enough to fix me. But it’s not. It’s not.”

  “Sam’s a fine boy, the best really. He’s so bright and such a joy to be around–”

  “I know that!” Ruth shouted back. “I can see that. It’s not about Sam. It if was, I could get better. And how does that make me feel, too? That my own son isn’t even enough for me? I wish he was. I wish. That’s all I do is wish. Nothing. Is. Enough.”

  With that, she turned and fled into her bedroom, the thin door slamming behind her. Through the paper-thin walls, Marianne could hear the sobs, angry, and harsh. She knew those cries because she’d had them herself.

  Shaking, she stepped outside and lightly skipped over the rotting floorboards. Without turning back, she started down the road that would return her to town. She’d been wrong about Ruth. Maybe it was silly but she had thought that maybe they could be friends. What was so wrong with her, though, that not even Ruth had wanted to know her?

  The rejection stung deeply and there is no feeling stronger than that of self-pity.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT WOULD BE visiting Furnace Mountain in less than eight weeks. In two days, it would be the 4th of July. Alice was planning a picnic for Nicholas. They’d spent every July 4th together since she’d known him. This year would be special. Not only would it be the last year he’d probably be here, but if everything went according to plan it would be the year she told him how she truly felt.

  She thought she’d make a potato salad.

  Of course, she hadn’t asked him if he wanted to do anything. It was assumed. What else would he be doing?

  Alice was nervous. Not just because she was afraid that he wouldn’t feel the same way, but because the 4th of July was always the halfway point of the summer. It went by so quickly after that. She was looking forward to starting school again in the fall, in a strange way, because it was her last year. Miss Casteel had asked her about helping with the little ones and Alice thought she might be good at that. She didn’t know how she would be able to sit there day after day and look at Nicholas’ empty chair, but if she had something to occupy her mind with it would make the time go by faster.

  Today, it didn’t matter so much. She was meeting with Miss Casteel and Mayor Dyer and the entire Kiwanis Club to talk about something important. She knew the members of the Kiwanis Club from town, as well as from church of course, but they were generally not men that she would have anything to say to. Robert often mocked them for their self-serving ways and the way he thought they tried to throw their weight around. Alice didn’t know about that. They all seemed nice enough and she had grown up knowing most of them from a distance.

  As she walked into the meeting room in City Hall she had little idea as to why she was there and what she was supposed to be doing. She was late, of course, and other than Louella and Miss Casteel she was the only female in the room. The other fourteen attendees looked up and sent her a courteous smile before returning to their discussions.

  “Do you know what this is about?” she whispered to Marianne who was frantically waving a small fan in front of her face, trying in vain to add some much needed circulation to the stifling air.

  “Not a bit,” she whispered in return. She nodded toward Louella. “She does, but she’s not talking. I tried.”

  “I’ve never been invited to a meeting before. Not like this.”

  “Neither have I,” Marianne admitted.

  A few moments later, Homer entered the room. He walked to the head of the table with an uncertainty that even Alice could see and approached the podium.

  “Well,” he began, his voice faltering. “I reckon you’re all wondering why we’re here. And why we’re not waiting until Wednesday night…”

  The fourteen heads bobbed in unison. Wednesday night was their usual meeting and the location of choice was generally the café across from the freight yard.

  “Well, this couldn’t wait. I have some news and I am going to need some assistance.”

  For the next half-hour, they listened in earnest while Homer described the offer from Hartside Morgan. He talked about the promise of jobs, the risk the plant would be taking, and the lucrative possibilities it could bring. As he spoke, Alice surveyed the room.

  It was hard to read their faces. Marianne sat forward, her head cocked to the side, listening intently. Louella sat with a tight smile. She had heard this all before; she was simply there for support.

  The men appeared divided. Some had their hands clasped in front of them and nodded their heads from time to time. Others leaned back in their chairs, smirking with boredom. This wasn’t the first time they’d been promised big changes. It wouldn’t be the last.

  Alice felt her excitement building. She could see the plant just as Homer described it.

  She envisioned the trucks that would carry the building supplies. She saw men toiling outside, h
ammers in hand, looking as busy as they did in town right now. Only, this would be more permanent. She saw men and women getting up in the mornings, packing their lunches, and walking down the road to go to work. She saw boxes leaving the plant and being pushed onto train cars; boxes that were full of overalls and trousers and maybe even other things–all made right there in Furnace Mountain by people she knew.

  There was silence when Homer finished. Finally, a voice spoke up. “Well, that sounds all fine and dandy but how are we supposed to raise $50,000? It might as well as be a million…”

  And then, another voice. “If everyone in town gave ten dollars we wouldn’t have enough and you know as good as I do that most people don’t have a dollar to give.”

  Heads nodded in agreement. For the next fifteen minutes, a heated discussion raged on regarding the logistics of raising such an amount. Anger filled the room, along with overwhelming frustration at the thought of being so close to something worthy. Alice felt helpless.

  “Could it work, though?” she whispered to Marianne. “I mean, if they opened here, would there be jobs?”

  Marianne sighed. “Yes, of course. Not many at first and it’s very risky but it would help.”

  “Who all could they hire?” She didn’t want to say it aloud, naturally, but she was thinking of her father.

  “I imagine that they would be looking for people who are good with their hands and hard workers. People who can catch on quickly.”

  Alice considered this. Robert was very good with his hands. He also worked hard when he set his mind to it.

  Blocking everyone out for the time being, Alice made her way over to the door where there was a table set up with small sandwiches and water. She poured herself some and stood there, watching. Homer looked helpful. He obviously wasn’t getting anywhere with the members of the Kiwanis Club.

  Almost without thinking, she reached for a sandwich and bit into it. As she chewed on the lettuce, cheese, tomato, and chicken, she watched through the window at the people across the street, painting the post office. They laughed and talked to one another, all the while still working. They weren’t getting paid, but they seemed okay with that.

  The chicken was moist and thick and the tomato juicy and sweet. The lettuce crisp. She was reminded of the fact that just two days before she had sent a sack of tomatoes over to Nicholas’ mother. He had complained about not having any and how nobody in town had any good ones for sale. His family didn’t plant a garden. The next day, he had come back with a chunk of cheese for her, courtesy of his mother. She’d been able to melt some of that cheese on tomatoes for supper that night and it made a meal she didn’t usually get to have. Suddenly, a thought struck her.

  Gamely, she walked up to Homer and his podium. “I might have an idea,” she said loudly over the dull roar. He listened while she talked and soon she could see a slow smile spread across his face.

  “Well, why not give it a try?” he asked. “Folks, let’s hear this little lady out. She might be on to something.”

  Nobody looked particularly hopefully as she began to speak but she ignored that and went on.

  “I know that most of us don’t have much anymore, but everybody has something to give. You might have something that somebody else doesn’t and they might have something you don’t Alone, it’s not much. Together, it’s a lot. I think money might be the same way.”

  “But how do we get people to give the money they have?” This, from the head of the Kiwanis Club himself.

  “We don’t just ask for charity,” she reasoned. “When you ask for something outright you don’t usually get it. When you make people feel like they’re doing something good with it and getting something out of it they’re more inclined to give.”

  “So what do you propose, Alice?” Louella asked.

  “I propose that we reinstate the Gingerroot Festival,” she declared. “We don’t have a lot of time but I think we could do it in two weeks. We could invite the entire county, and people from all the way in Lexington! We wouldn’t be raising the money just for the plant, however. We’d be raising it for the depot’s windows. That’s just a little money, right? And if we raised that much, people would be optimistic. They’d think we could do anything. And then we could start on the plant! And maybe if we could show Hartside Morgan that we could raise at least some of the money it would be enough to convince them to come here.”

  “Obviously, we don’t have the means to bring in the Ferris wheel or big items, but I think Alice might have a point,” Homer added. “Tell them what you thought of.”

  She clapped her hands with glee, feeling like a little girl again. “Well, we could charge admission to get in. And there are lots of things we could do for the festival to make it fun. We could have a cakewalk, a dance contest, a band, food to buy, games…” She hadn’t had time to put a lot of thought into it yet, but she could see it in her mind. It could work.

  “Do you really think people are going to want to come and spend money on these things? Much less take the time to work a festival and make things that they won’t be compensated for?”

  “Why not?” Alice asked. “They’re not getting much out of working in town right now but they’re still doing it. And people like to have fun. They still do. We’re not that bad off yet. I’d like to see the festival again. And if we convince everyone that it’s for a good cause we might raise all kinds of money.”

  For the first time in her life, Alice had the undivided attention of everyone in the room. They were looking at her, listening to her, and taking her words to heart. She was important.

  She was also right.

  “I can see this working,” Louella spoke up. “We stopped the festival due to lack of disposable money, but that might have been a mistake. What’s the good of living if we can’t enjoy ourselves? And if we don’t raise the funds we need, we might still benefit. Maybe the company will look at us favorably. We certainly can’t lose anything.”

  Marianne agreed. “I think we spend a lot of time assuming that people don’t care. Alice is right, however. Everyone has a little, whether they know they do or not. When we put everyone’s little together we have something big.”

  By the time the meeting broke up, Alice was in charge of her very first public event. With Louella assisting her, of course. She had the backing of the entire Kiwanis Club, all of whom were intent on doing what they could to help ensure the funds were raised and got to where they needed to be. As it turned out, they were also ready for a change.

  ***

  Sam felt horrible. Things had been looking very good lately. Then, his teacher had tried to come and visit and for the past three days his mother had not left her bed. He didn’t know more than that but it was enough. It was going to be the 4th of July soon. They were having the Gingerroot Festival again shortly thereafter. He had hoped she would get up then and they could eat outside and maybe see the fireworks. There were still people that put them on over the mountain and from their porch they could be seen if the sky was clear.

  It didn’t look good.

  Now, Sam swept the porch and dodged the broken boards the same way that Marianne had. He was embarrassed. He knew their house was mostly clean but there were things he had a hard time doing by himself, like fixing the porch. His daddy hadn’t had time to teach him that. He figured eventually the whole thing would just rot away, one ugly board at a time. Like his mama.

  He was embarrassed by their porch and that feeling was bad enough but there was another feeling that was worse–shame. He was ashamed of Ruth. He knew from what he’d heard Miss Casteel say and how Ruth was acting that she hadn’t been very nice to his teacher. And he loved Miss Casteel. After his mama she might have just been his favorite person. He was ashamed that she had been treated like that. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know about the way his house was. She’d just been trying to be nice to them. It wasn’t even charity when you’re just being a friend.

  In frustration, he swept at the dust and dirt
that clung to the stubborn boards with vengeance. His mama was beautiful. He supposed that a lot of boys thought that about their mamas, but he had reason to really believe it as far as his was concerned. He’d heard people talking about her and what a looker she had been. Had been. Not anymore. The sickness had made her ugly inside.

  Sam began thinking of his life in terms of a “before” and an “after” and his daddy’s passing had been the landmark. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a whole lot of memories of the before. Just a lot of impressions. He wasn’t even sure he could trust those. Maybe he’d been making them up all these years.

  The kicker was, he was ashamed for feeling ashamed. He knew other boys and girls in the world must have it a lot worse but that thought did little to comfort him. He was the man of the house now and it was up to him to take care of everything, but why couldn’t she at least try? He was tired of making excuses for her and ignoring people who felt sorry for him and pretending that everything was okay when it wasn’t.

  The harder he swept, the angrier he got. In a final burst of rage, he threw the broom off the porch and watched it sail through the air. It managed to strike the dogwood tree, shaking it enough to send the birdcage crashing to the ground.

  Well, that was just swell, he thought, as he stared at the splintered pieces.

  The birdcage, which had never housed any birds that he knew of, was the last thing his daddy had made with him. He was sure that it meant something, but he didn’t know what.

  ***

  Robert studied the stack of wood in the barn. He picked up his ax and then set it down and picked up his knife. He looked at it long and hard and then laid it down as well. Finally, he turned back to the wood. His hands were shaking and his legs trembled beneath him.