Chapter Nine
Lester Branch’s funeral was held in the sanctuary of First Baptist Church, a closed-casket service, followed by burial in Oak Grove Cemetery in a family plot that had held the remains of Branch men, women, and children for almost ninety years. Lester was to be buried beside his first wife, Betsy.
A couple of days earlier, after Buck and Mabel had returned from the funeral home, Mabel had cried for an hour and then appeared to bury her grief with baking, cooking, and cleaning. She had said to Adah, “My son’s funeral is in two days, and I don’t want no trouble. As far as anyone else is concerned, we’re a family. You act right or there’ll be hell to pay.”
So there was Mabel’s secret. She worked hard to paint a rosy picture to the outside world, hiding the fact that the family was awash in strife and probably always had been. Competition between brothers and wary treatment from the outside world aside, what else was hidden under the farmhouse façade? What other secrets?
Adah wandered through the funeral like a lost lamb. Most of the attendees—church members, businessmen from town and their wives, and farm families from the surrounding area—acted as if they were frightened of something, and no one spoke much to Adah. While some lent comfort to Mabel, Jesse, and Buck, Adah kept her head down, almost shaking. By all appearances she was with the family; they were at peace and she was one of them, for the moment.
It was a glorious afternoon. The skies were a charged blue, and a cool breeze carried the sweet scent of early spring and the surging river sweeping down the wide Ohio River valley. After the service, the funeral procession made haste to the grave site, while above them birds sang. It was the first perfect spring day, and yet a sticky film of perspiration encased Adah.
The cemetery grass was still brown with only a few hints of the green to come. Headstones made of fieldstone, slate, limestone, marble, and granite leaned and reached in orderly rows, along with the occasional obelisk and statue. All of the mourners had dressed in black, even Daisy—Adah had sewn her a black pinafore. Everyone had to walk to the Branch section, where a large rectangular hole had been opened in the ground next to the grave of Betsy Branch.
Betsy’s blue granite gravestone gave the dates of her birth and death, her name, and then simply, “Loving wife and mother.” Lester’s matching gravestone had been ordered but had not arrived yet.
With the Branch family standing together and a gathering of mourners behind them and at their sides, the minister shared his final words on the matter of Lester Branch’s demise and asked Adah to come forward. She moved as if sleepwalking, letting go of Daisy’s hand and stepping up to the grave’s edge.
After her husband’s body was lowered into the ground, Adah tossed the first clumps of crumbling sable-brown earth on the casket, willing time to pass quickly, needing this to be over—this last step in saying goodbye to her husband. Despite her resolve, her hands were trembling so badly that a woman moved forward from the gathering of mourners to put her arm around Adah’s shoulders.
“Tough to lose a husband,” the woman whispered in Adah’s ear. “I lost mine, too.”
Adah turned her head and gazed into the weathered face of an older woman who, although dressed primly, looked capable of kindness. Smile lines tracked her face, and her soft olive-green eyes were surrounded by fleshy lids. The woman had probably once been beautiful.
She had long, tapered fingers like that of a pianist. Elegant fingers, and hands that had seen little harsh sun or hard work. Did this woman own a piano? During the cleanup, more than 2,500 of the estimated 3,200 pianos in the city were found in ruin—only one of the devastating effects of the flood—and would be dumped on the east side of the Illinois Central roundhouse. All that music, silenced.
Adah stood still for a moment under the touch of a human hand. Then, as she looked closer, she recognized the woman. She lived on the same road as the Branches in a large stately farmhouse surrounded by lovely lands. Adah took a step back from the grave, and the woman seemed to instinctively know to steer Adah farther away, that she had had enough. The service was ending anyway.
“Thank you for your kindness,” Adah finally said.
“Of course, of course,” the woman said and took a small step back while still holding Adah’s arm, then glanced at the Branches. Was she surprised that no one in the family had come forward to offer comfort to the wife of the deceased? Was Mabel’s attempt at making them look like a happy family failing?
Gathering her wits, her thoughts in disarray, Adah said, “You live near us, don’t you? I’ve seen you out in front of your house.”
The woman said, “I’m Florence Wainwright, and yes, I do live down the road.”
Adah’s mouth was dry and she was still trembling, but she had to make use of this rare contact with the outside world. “It was so kind of you to come.”
Florence nodded once. “It was the right thing to do.”
Adah had to fight the urge to bite her nails. She glanced around and saw that others were out of earshot for the moment. Turning back to Florence, she said, “May I ask you a question?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “I need to find some work. Would you have any need of help with laundry or mending?”
A frown and a questioning expression rode over Florence’s face. “Well, no. But why do you ask, my dear?”
“I need to keep busy these days. I’m trying to find some laundry customers in the area, people nearby if possible.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s just me and my youngest son now, so not much to launder. I have a man who does the little bit we need done. He’s a good worker, and I have no reason to replace him.”
Adah glanced about. “Would you know of anyone else in the area who might need help?”
Florence finally let loose of Adah’s arm and placed her right forefinger against her chin. “Well, let me think on that for a moment.” She began tapping her chin. “There’s a family up our same road that’s full of kids. I think there’s eight of them, at last count.” She brightened. “Oh, come to think of it, an elderly couple live nearby, too. They’ve sold off the land but still live in the house. Both of them’re getting frail, so you could check with them. See if they don’t already have a laundry man or are willing to switch over to you, especially if your rates are lower. And I just thought of a bachelor man farming on his own, too.”
“I’d be much obliged if you could tell me where to go to meet them. And since I’m new to this type of work, how much do you think I should charge?”
“Well . . . let me see. If you’ll do a week’s worth of laundry for two dollars, that would make your fee dirt cheap, and I’d be willing to bet you’ll get some customers.”
Dirt cheap sounded just right to Adah. “Thank you.”
Florence was staring unabashedly now. “Sure, honey, but are you certain you should be thinking about working at a time like this? Maybe you need to let it all sink in. Take some time to work through it all, get all your sadness out of your system. You have to have some really hard cries, I know. We all reckoned Lester was lost for good a while back, but it still must have been a shock, finding him like that . . .”
A flashback of Lester’s body on the coroner’s table, and a shiver rode up Adah’s arms. She rubbed them as though she could banish memories that way. “That’s exactly why I need to do something with myself.”
The kindness hadn’t left Florence’s face, and Adah found herself mesmerized. Other than the loving looks she received from Daisy, Adah hadn’t experienced a single sweet expression since the Lerners and relief workers had helped her after the flood.
Florence said, “Follow me to my car, and I’ll write down those folks’ addresses for you. I have a pencil in the car.” She turned and started to walk away, and Adah, not caring about the Branch family or what they thought, followed in Florence’s footsteps.
“Will I be able to walk to see the folks you have in mind?”
Once they reached the car, Florence wrote down some names a
nd addresses on a piece of stationery. “Funny thing, I just bought a box of stationery the other day and forgot to take it inside.” She handed over the paper, then stopped and looked at Adah with a baffled expression. “Why would you need to walk?”
Adah shrugged.
“That family of yours has a truck and a car. About the only people in these parts that have two vehicles. Why can’t you use one of them when need be? Don’t you know how to drive?”
Adah hesitated, then answered, “Yes, I learned from my . . . my husband way back, as soon as we got married. I can drive just about anything, I think, but I’m trying to be as little trouble as possible to the Branches.”
Florence stared at Adah for a few long moments, then breathed out, “Well, if that don’t beat all.” She lowered her voice and leaned in. “Though if I lived in that house with those people, I’d want to be as little trouble as possible, too.”
Adah had to tamp down the urge to tell this nice woman all of what she’d been enduring. She longed for some sympathy but knew better than to reveal anything. The Branches had to have some friends in the community, and Adah didn’t know whom to trust. Even though Florence seemed nice, it was possible she was a gossip, and anything Adah said to anyone could come back to bite her.
Florence sighed. “Never saw a whole lot to like, truth be told.”
A little burst of triumph. She had been right. Not only did many people steer clear of the Branch clan, they downright disliked them. And Mabel seemed to have no clue. “So why did you come today?”
Florence glanced about. “I’m a neighbor, and I don’t want to get on their bad side. You know, it’s just the way we do things around here. A family loses one of their own, and we tend to gather ’round, no matter what. Even if we’re not the best of friends . . .”
Adah would’ve loved to hear more, but by then she could see that Buck, Mabel, and Jesse were waiting for her, standing outside the sedan with Daisy and looking annoyed. “Well, thank you for the information. I sure appreciate it.”
Florence was studying Adah and tilted her head to one side. “You take care of yourself, now, you hear?”
All Adah could do was shrug again. She had to contain her quivering chin. Her plan had to be carefully, cautiously enacted—appease the Branches by bringing in some money from laundry, wait for the ownership of the farm to be determined, get advice from an attorney in town about both Daisy and the farm, and don’t let anyone know. For now, she had to remain alone in her plight. But solitude had never been a stranger to her. In many ways, it was her best friend.
Chapter Ten
The next day, Adah asked Jesse if she could borrow the truck to go to town and post notices about her laundry services. Which indeed she would do, as well as oh so much more . . .
“Your husband ain’t even in the ground one day, and you wanna go prancing about town?”
Jesse’s attitude no longer surprised her, and he had always been less terrifying than his father. She had even risked defending herself with him. “I’m trying to bring in some money. That way I can pay your parents back for some of the funeral expenses. I heard the casket they chose was costly.”
He harrumphed. “You bet it was costly. They wanted the best for their dead son, or should I say murdered son?”
The word murdered burned through her like a hot staff. But she was learning how to let words fall away and show no expression in response. If they knew for sure, she would be a dead woman. Did they think they could somehow pull it out of her? Was that one of the reasons they were keeping her around? Jesse seemed too single minded to ever give up on an idea, and she wondered if he was even the slightest bit intelligent.
She ignored his question and stood still.
After staring her down for a while and sneering, Jesse finally handed over the keys. “Don’t be gone long. And you best make it worth your while. Don’t come back here with nothing to show for it. Pa expects you to start bringing home some bacon. And I mean real soon.”
“That’s why I’m going to town, Jesse.”
He looked to be searching his brain for a new threat to make but had to settle on one already stated. “Like I said, don’t be gone long.”
Adah took the keys without touching Jesse’s hand. “I wouldn’t dare,” she said and dropped the keys into her pocket.
Jesse let that go. Although there was no tempering toward Adah, he and Mabel seemed to be tiring of the tension they’d created in the house. But Buck, why, he flourished on it. His line of the Branch family had a deep history of slave ownership, and his treatment of Adah reminded her of what it must have been like to be an indentured servant taunted by her master.
If Adah ever had reason to smile, he quickly said, “Wipe that grin right off your face, girl. You best be showing the signs of a wounded woman ’round here.”
Once, she had asked if she and Daisy could listen to a radio program, The Bob Hope Show , on the Blue Network, and Buck had retorted, “We have no time to listen to no programs. Pretty soon, come growing season, there won’t be no time for anything but going to bed after night falls, and you best be prepared to do your share of the work. When your head hits the pillow, you’ll be so tired you won’t know what hit you. That is, if you can still sleep after what you done.”
After she’d gotten the keys, Adah dressed both Daisy and herself in the best of their hand-me-down dresses and then drove away as Mabel labored in the kitchen, making a big pot of stew, and Buck and Jesse disappeared inside the old log curing barn. Often they went inside it for hours at a time, and Adah had no idea what they did in there, since the curing barns wouldn’t be put to use until after harvest.
Whatever it was, Adah frankly didn’t care. The more moments without them the better.
The sun was already tracking downward through a cloudless sky, but a chill in the air reminded them that winter had not completely come to an end. As Adah drove out of sight of the farm, a compulsion entered her. She could just keep driving. Past the town, out of the county, or across the river at the nearest bridge, into another state, into obscurity, and start a new life with a new name, Daisy as her daughter. Both of them away from the Branches.
But that would amount to kidnapping, a federal offense that would put even the FBI on her trail, and with that thought the urge left slowly, like a dying flame. Better to seek a legal course.
In the truck Daisy said, “Where are we going?”
Adah glanced sideways at the girl. “To town.”
“Why?” This was one of Daisy’s newest words.
“We’re going to talk to a man, but it’s kind of a secret.”
“Why?”
Adah debated with herself about what to say, but if she managed to talk to an attorney on this day, Daisy would be with her and would hear anyway. There was no way to hide it from her. Besides, she wanted to give the girl some hope. “We’re going to talk to a man about helping us go back to our old house, just you and me.”
Daisy sat up taller in the seat. “Me and you?”
“Yes. Would you like that?”
Daisy nodded and then broke into a sunshine smile. “Can I get some candy? Oh puh-lease, Mama.”
“Listen, sweetie. This is important, what I told you. For now, it’s our secret, okay?”
But Daisy was already gazing beyond the window, awed by the outside world they rarely got to see.
In town Adah parked and enacted her cover story by placing handwritten notes on church bulletin boards and grocery stores that had reopened. By then the town was in full rebuilding mode with most businesses in various stages of restoration, some already completed. The sound of hammers against nails, the scent of sawdust, stacks of lumber and glass, and plenty of men working told the story.
How were some of the businesses able to rebuild so quickly? And then came an idea. Probably these buildings had been insured by their owners. Could Lester have taken out an insurance policy on the farm? And if he had, would the other Branches know about it? And if so, would they
even tell her? Doubtful.
One more thing to consult the attorney about.
Despite her spinning thoughts, she somehow noted everything around her: the way the more prosperous people in town walked using longer steps and a more languid posture, the way the purveyor of buttons touched each one he set out on his cart as if it were a precious stone, and the way the owner of a diner swept the street just outside, looking for potential customers like an eagle. All these glimpses of life beyond the Branch farm she collected like gifts.
Since she’d found the money, she had seen herself as a new shoot of spring grass beginning to emerge from the cheerless, frozen earth. She had been reborn with a new purpose. But she had to conceal her smile.
A few women whom she was acquainted with from church, wearing smart hats and street clothes, spoke to her, saying, “Sorry for your loss,” “He’s in heaven now,” “If there’s anything we can do . . . ,” and so on, all of which reminded Adah to appear solemn and move slowly. She was supposed to be mourning her husband.
At first, she had hoped for customers she could walk to, but now that she’d been allowed to borrow the truck, she was aiming to broaden her search. Being able to drive away from the farm had brought on a feeling of reprieve. After finishing her postings, she crossed Main Street, holding Daisy’s hand, and headed for an attorney’s office she had spied.
Something twitched in the far corner of her vision: a man crossing the street a discreet distance behind her. She slowed her steps, then stopped for a moment to gaze inside a dress-shop window and stare at a black evening dress with a silk overjacket, then daring a glance behind her. Yes, there was a man following her and not doing a good job of keeping himself hidden.
Jesse! He must have driven the sedan and been trailing her through town. Why? Despite having no clear answer to that question, there was no doubt that her plan had been foiled. She couldn’t be spotted going into an attorney’s office. The Branches would then know too much. They would certainly figure out at least part of what she had hoped to accomplish there. During all of the time she’d been with them, the legal ownership of Lester’s land and house had not been mentioned. Nothing since Buck had said your farm and your house .
The River Widow Page 9
