'Jenny!' a voice hissed from the side of the building.
Jenny turned her head slowly as Laurenda Pitcock hurried over to her. Laurenda had grown up to be big-boned, with a heavy reddish face, the hint of a mustache, and tiny, thin lips. Her hips were large and her bosom full and ripe.
'What do you say we pack a picnic lunch this afternoon?' Laurenda suggested hopefully. 'You, me, and Red Brearer, we could all ride out to the bluff together.'
'Oh, I don't know,' Jenny said lazily, her eyes once again resting on Zaccheus.
Laurenda looked disappointed. 'We haven't seen you for nearly a week now,' she whined reproachfully. 'You're no fun anymore.'
'Things will liven up, Laurenda.'
Laurenda grunted. 'What have you been doing with yourself?'
'Working,' Jenny said truthfully.
Laurenda laughed. 'I thought you hated work.'
'I do,' Jenny said slowly, 'but sometimes there are benefits.'
'Like the new roomer?' Laurenda said in a sly voice.
Jenny glared at her. 'How would you know?'
Laurenda shrugged. 'Word gets around is all.'
Jenny's voice was bitter. 'It better get no further than you. You open your big mouth, Laurenda Pitcock, and I'll open mine.'
'What about?'
Jenny smiled crookedly.
Laurenda tossed her head virtuously. 'Nobody will believe it.'
'Red likes to brag.'
'So? Everybody knows he's always lying.'
'So they do. But everybody will believe me.'
'All right, all right,' Laurenda conceded gruffly.
Jenny smiled at her. 'Get lost, Laurenda. I'm busy.'
'I didn't mean-'
'I'm busy, Laurenda.' Jenny's voice softened. 'I'll see you tomorrow. I promise.'
'Yeah. Sure.' Laurenda backed off, glumly studying the ground.
Jenny pursed her lips thoughtfully as her best friend wandered off. Suddenly she pushed herself away from the fence, left the churchyard, and hurried back to the Good Eats Café. She took the stairs two at a time up to the second-floor apartment she, Elender, and Elizabeth-Anne had shared ever since Elender had bought the building. Quickly she changed out of her Sunday outfit to a cooler, less formal, and more flattering dress. It was printed with a tiny pattern of bluebells and suited her well. She studied her reflection closely in the mirror, then pushed her fingers through her hair, contemplating a new hairdo. Frowning, she let it fall back in place.
She smiled slowly. Today she wasn't going to serve lunch or supper at the café. She would let Elizabeth-Anne do that. Laurenda had unwittingly given her a marvelous idea. Although he didn't know it yet, today she was going on a picnic—with Zaccheus Hale.
Zaccheus heard the tentative knock on the door. He crossed the little turret room in four strides and opened it. His face registered surprise. Jenny was standing there, both hands gripping a large cloth-covered wicker basket she held in front of her.
'Hello,' he said.
Jenny smiled flirtatiously up at him. 'Auntie's letting me borrow the horse and buggy, and I have a picnic lunch all packed. You see, my friend Laurenda Pitcock was supposed to come with me, but she's taken ill, and everything's already prepared and . . . would you . . . ? I mean . . .' She tilted her head and lowered her eyes demurely. 'It's so quiet here, and I hate to have to picnic alone.'
'Well . . .' Zaccheus compressed his lips and glanced behind him. 'Actually, I was just—'
'It would mean so much to me,' Jenny said quickly, her eyes searching his face. 'Please? Just this once? Auntie said it was all right with her, if it was with you.'
He smiled. 'All right. Wait for me downstairs. I'll be right down.'
They drove out through Geron's Fields and headed north along the enormous meandering riverbed, passing newly planted citrus groves and endless expanses of cotton fields. Jenny did the driving and didn't stop the buggy until they came to a small bluff. Far out, they could see the mirrorlike shine of pools of water. The water did not seem to be moving.
'Let's picnic here,' Jenny said softly. 'This is one of my favorite spots. See?' She pointed. 'You can see way into Mexico from here.'
'I'd always expected more from the Rio Grande,' he said slowly. 'I always thought it was a real river.'
'Like the Mississippi?'
'Something like that.'
Jenny nodded. 'I know. But it does get a lot bigger. Especially in spring, when the snows melt up north. A few years ago it flooded and washed away half of Mexican Town.'
'It seems impossible.'
'I know. If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed it either.' Jenny got the blanket out of the buggy and flapped it out over the ground. 'Are you hungry yet?' she called over her shoulder as she set the picnic basket down.
'I can wait.'
'Good. I can too.' She got down on her knees and smoothed the blanket out.
They sat down, hugged their knees, and looked over into Mexico. The afternoon was hot and lazy, and after a while they lay back, absorbing the sun. Jenny sighed contentedly. She crossed her arms behind her head. 'Where are you from originally?' she asked in an offhand voice.
He opened one eye. 'Oh, all over,' he replied vaguely. 'I travel a lot.'
'That's what I always wanted to do,' she said wistfully. 'But I've never been further than Brownsville.' She shifted and he turned slowly toward her as he felt a finger tracing a line down his chest. Then she suddenly rolled toward him, knelt over him, and clutched him tightly, her fingers digging into his forearms. 'I think I'm in love with you,' she whispered throatily.
He sat up straight. 'But . . . but you hardly know me!' he sputtered.
She flung her arms around his neck. 'That doesn't matter. Oh, Zaccheus, Zaccheus! I just know we're made for each other!'
He studied her face in the sunlight. She wasn't half as pretty out in the stark, unforgiving sunshine as she was indoors, he realized suddenly. Her skin wasn't as smooth and her eyes had a harder, more calculating glint. Still, she was pretty enough, but something about her frightened him. Perhaps it was that she was so brazenly forward.
He could feel her drawing closer toward him until her body was pressed against his. Gently he took her by the wrists and pushed her away from him. He got to his feet. 'I think,' he said slowly, 'it's time we headed back.''
Her narrowed eyes blazed for an instant. Then she shrugged. 'All right,' she said simply. 'If that's what you want.'
'That's what I want,' he said softy.
She got up and watched expressionlessly as he gathered up the unopened picnic basket and blanket and tossed them into the buggy. After he helped her up onto the seat, he went around to untie the horse. Just as he was about to hop up beside her, she suddenly smacked the reins as hard as she could and yelled: 'Giddy-yap!'
Zaccheus jumped back as the horse took off. For a long moment he just stood there, puzzled, one hand resting on his hip, the other scratching his head thoughtfully. He stared after the cloud of dust being kicked up by the receding horse and buggy. ' 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,' he quoted aloud to himself. Then, resigning himself to the long walk back into town, he took off his suit jacket and flung it over his shoulder.
He shook his head sorrowfully. No matter which way he turned, women always seemed to do him dirty. What was it with him? Why did he seem only to attract the virulent and spiteful ones?
Jenny hesitated outside the door of Elender's bedroom and took a deep breath to fortify herself. The dim hallway sconces cast shadows across her face. The generous pink slash that was her mouth drew back over her teeth as she smiled. Then she rapped decisively.
'Come in,' Elender called out clearly. She was sitting in front of her dressing-table mirror, brushing out her hair in the glow of two lamps.
The door opened silently and Jenny slipped into the room. 'Auntie . . .' she said tentatively.
'Yes, dear. Did you have a nice picnic?'
'I. . . I have a confession to make, Auntie,
' Jenny blurted out in a thin, reedy voice.
Elender stopped brushing her hair and peered at Jenny's reflection in the mirror. 'Yes . . .'
Jenny clenched her hands at her sides. 'Mr. Hale went with me on the picnic this afternoon.'
'Oh? I thought you specifically told me you were going with Laurenda.'
Jenny bit down on her lip. 'I was, really I was. But she couldn't go at the last minute.'
'I see. And you asked Mr. Hale instead,' Elender guessed shrewdly, 'after I told you repeatedly that you are not to see any man unescorted unless you have my express permission to do so.'
'Oh, no, Auntie!' Jenny cried quickly. 'It was nothing like that! Honestly! He asked me to go for a walk with him, and since the picnic basket was already all packed, I thought . . . well . . .' Her voice trailed off.
'Well, what?' Elender prodded.
'Auntie,' Jenny began in a tiny voice, then trembled and hugged herself with her arms. 'It was horrible! Horrible! He . . . he tried to kiss me! He . . . he put his arms around me and felt—'
Elender dropped the hairbrush and it fell on the dressing table with a clatter. She spun around on the stool and faced Jenny, her eyes glittering darkly. 'If— and I use that word very judiciously, Jennifer Sue Clowney—if indeed Mr. Hale tried to kiss you, well . . . I doubt that he's to blame. You are. As far as I can see, he's a perfect gentleman. You did not have my permission to go on a picnic with him. And worse yet, you've been throwing yourself at him in the most disgusting, unladylike manner I've ever seen. I don't know what's come over you, but let me warn you, young lady.' She wagged a severe finger. 'I am not blind!'
Jenny's face burned scarlet.
'I suggest,' Elender continued quietly, 'that you cease trying to throw yourself at Mr. Hale . . . and that goes for any other man who happens by. One more problem like this and I'll see to it that you never leave this house again!'
'I'm not a child anymore!' Jenny retaliated in a truculent voice. 'I'm eighteen years old. You can't lock me up!'
'We'll see.'
'I'll run away! You'll never find me!'
'Stop it!' Elender shouted suddenly. Then her voice dropped. 'Don't be so childish. '
'Maybe I wouldn't be so childish if you stopped treating me like one.'
Elender sighed wearily. 'We'll talk about that some other time, Jenny, when we aren't so hot under the collar. For the time being, off you go to bed. You've a long day ahead of you tomorrow.'
Jenny looked at her quizzically. 'I do?'
'You do.' Elender tightened her lips. 'Since you blatantly disobeyed me, you'll serve both the lunch and supper shifts tomorrow. And every day for the next fourteen days.'
Jenny's jaw dropped. 'But, Auntie!'
'This way,' Elender said in a chill voice, 'you'll have no choice but to stay out of trouble. Good night.'
There was no doubt that Jenny was dismissed. She mumbled something under her breath.
'What's that?' Elender said sharply.
'I said good night, Auntie.' Jenny slipped glumly out of the room.
When she was gone, Elender turned back toward the mirror and picked up the hairbrush. Slowly she resumed brushing her hair, staring at her reflection but not seeing it.
The girls have changed, she caught herself thinking sadly, and then frowned. No, they were not girls any longer. They were women. Jenny was eighteen and Elizabeth-Anne was two years younger, but they both stood on the very same threshold. How much longer would either of them—especially Jenny—listen to the voices of those who were older and, presumably, wiser? Not, when it came down to it, she thought bleakly, that she was any wiser than Jenny. Her own past, indeed Jenny herself—her flesh and blood which she dared not embrace publicly or even privately—proved that. She could not be, for much longer, the arbiter of Jenny's and Elizabeth-Anne's social lives, hearts, and futures. She could try to guide them a little longer, nudging them in the direction she thought best, but she knew full and well that that time was finite, that the end of her influence was fast drawing near. A young woman's heart was, after all, a very delicate thing: no rhyme or reason could sway it.
It was then that she heard other knocks, this time on the parlor door down the hall. Slowly she lifted her head, then got up, pulled on her embroidered robe, and went out into the parlor. She opened the door. 'Mr. Hale!' she said with surprise.
Zaccheus held his boater against his chest. 'I'm sorry to bother you, Miss Clowney,' he said in embarrassment. 'Especially at this late hour. But I was hoping we might talk for a moment.'
'You're no bother at all. Do come in.' She led the way into the small parlor. 'Have a seat, Mr. Hale.' She watched as he sat down on the settee; she took a seat on one of the tufted chairs. 'Now,' she said. 'What can I do for you?'
Zaccheus cleared his throat. 'It's about your niece, ma'am. Miss Jennifer.'
A veil seemed to drop down over Elender's eyes. 'Yes?'
'She asked me to go on a picnic with her this afternoon.'
'I know that.'
He nodded. 'Miss Clowney, I don't know if it's my place to say this, but . . .' He tightened his lips and studied his folded hands.
'She tried to make advances at you?'
It was his turn to look surprised. 'How did you know?'
'I could see it coming. Jenny is very brazen. You see, for her, life here is very dull. You must excuse her, Mr. Hale. I assume you behaved as a gentleman.'
He nodded and smiled bleakly.
'Thank you for telling me,' she said warmly. 'Now, I think we'd better forget this unfortunate incident.'
'Miss Clowney?' 'Yes?'
'There's . . . something else.' 'And that would be . . .'
'Your other niece, Miss Clowney. I was wondering if I could have your permission to take her to see a picture show at the nickelodeon?'
'Elizabeth-Anne? Why, how wonderful!' Elender clapped her hands together and beamed with pleasure. 'You don't know what a world of good that would do her! She's had such an unfortunate, painful life, you know.'
'I guessed that.' He paused. 'I was also wondering why she . . . why she wears gloves all the time.'
'You must keep this between you and me, Mr. Hale.'
'I won't tell a soul,' he promised solemnly
'I'm sure you won't. You see, Mr. Hale, when she was very, very young and impressionable, she saw her parents burned to death in a tragic fire. Her own hands were terribly scarred. Even now that they are healed, she cannot bear looking at them.'
He eyed her sadly. ' 'I will never let on that you told me.
'I appreciate that.' Elender got up from the chair and he rose also. 'Good night, Mr. Hale. '
'Good night, Miss Clowney.'
4
Elizabeth-Anne gazed at herself critically in the mirror and stood there frowning while she adjusted her dress.
Her body was rigid and she held her hands stiffly at her sides. What she saw in the mirror did nothing to inspire her. She let out a painful, high-pitched little moan.
He's going to laugh at me, she thought miserably over and over. Or worse yet, he's not going to show up at all. Oh, God, why didn't I just turn him down? And to think of all the trouble Auntie's gone through to try to make this perfect for me. She's done my hair, and taken in this dress so that it fits to perfection. But it's all wasted. Nothing is enough. I don't look good and I don't feel good. Perhaps I'm forever doomed to spinsterhood.
She scowled at her reflection. The white cotton dress with its twin rows of white-fabric-covered buttons tracing two lines from her collar down to her calves; the long puffy sleeves, buttoned tightly at the wrists; her tiny waist, accentuated by the cut of the dress; the wide-brimmed straw hat on her head, its crown wrapped in white ribbons that flowed down her back; the white boots Auntie had lent her and which pinched her toes slightly ('Thank goodness we've the same size feet,' Elender had said)—to Elizabeth-Anne it seemed like a costume. She just wasn't used to dressing up so fancy. Nor was she used to the new hairdo; her wheat-gold hair
was fluffed up and pinned in place and made her head look so much larger, especially with the new hat. Somehow it gave her an air of maturity which she found frightening.
When she heard the muted knocks on the door down the hall, a band of fear suddenly constricted her chest. He was here already! Oh, God! Quickly she snapped the bedroom door shut and glanced around desperately, as if contemplating escape as she heard Elender's brisk footsteps passing her door. But there was no escape.
She was trapped.
Hearing muffled voices, she took a deep breath and held it in her lungs as she heard the footsteps passing her door. Then she slowly let out her breath again. She could hear more conversation, then Elender's musical laughter and the clinking of a glass.
I can't even move! she moaned desperately to herself. My feet feel like they 're encased in lead. Oh, God, why can't the floor just open and swallow me up? Why can't I be dead?
She heard Elender's footsteps again, and then a soft knock came on her door. As Elender pushed it open, she exclaimed, 'You look lovely!'
'No, I don't!' Elizabeth-Anne countered fretfully.
Elender frowned suddenly. 'Oh!' she exclaimed.
'What is it?'
Quickly Elender slipped into the room and shut the door behind her. Deftly she began unbuttoning the front of Elizabeth-Anne's dress.
Elizabeth-Anne looked down at herself. In her nervousness, she hadn't even noticed the collar buckling; she'd missed a buttonhole, and all twenty buttons down to her calves were fastened wrong. 'I'm so nervous, Auntie! Can't I just call it off?'
'Keep still, please.'
'Can't I plead ill or something?' Elizabeth-Anne added quickly, 'I am ill, you know. My stomach is all tied up in knots, and I've been running to the bathroom—'
'It's only your nerves,' Elender whispered gently. Then she smiled reassuringly as she stood back to study Elizabeth-Anne. She nodded to herself with satisfaction. 'Don't worry so much. Mr. Hale is a very nice young gentleman, and he doesn't bite. Now, take off your hat and come out into the parlor. I've made a nice bowl of punch.'
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