“I wish you wouldn’t do it, Truman. It’s such dangerous work.”
“Now, Alona, it’s all I can find, and we need the money. Don’t worry. I won’t get hurt.”
She did not answer, but her brow was wrinkled as they finished washing the dishes.
After the last dish was dried, Truman hugged his wife tightly and kissed her. “I’ll go out and play with those no-account sons of yours. We should leave about quarter to eleven, I guess. I think the games start at eleven.”
He went outside, whistling as he went, and she watched through the screen door as he ran toward his three sons, grabbed Zachary, and fell to the ground. The other boys plunged into the fray, yelling and screaming, and as Alona watched them, she felt a warm glow. She was proud of her family, but she was worried about Truman working at such a dangerous occupation.
She stepped outside and sat down on the back stoop. As she did, a raucous sound came from the sky, and she looked up and saw an enormous flock of crows passing overhead, filling the sky. Truman pulled himself away from his sons and came over to sit down beside her. “I’ve never seen so many crows,” she commented. “There must be thousands of them.”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be a raincrow summer.”
“A raincrow summer? What kind of a summer is that?”
“You’ve never heard of a raincrow summer? Shucks, I thought everyone knew about that.” He looked up at the sky for a moment, then shrugged. “When you get big flocks of crows like that bunch it means the winter is gonna be bad—lots of rain and cold. My grandma Jewell always said it was a bad sign. She claimed that a raincrow summer meant something really bad was comin’—not just bad weather.”
“Oh, that’s foolish!”
“I reckon so—but the old folks had wisdom that we ain’t got these days.” He turned to face her and saw that she was worried. “Aw, shoot, Alona, you’re right. A bunch of crows, that’s all they are.” He sprang to his feet, pulled her up, and hugged her. “Don’t forget about that reward for winning this ball game.”
Alona smiled, but she looked up at the sky, which was still filled with crows. She didn’t believe in such things, but there seemed to be something evil about the birds as they fled across the sky. It doesn’t mean anything—just superstition! she told herself sternly.
****
The boys sat beside Alona in the stands, cheering and screaming every time Truman pitched. She had learned a little about baseball herself and had come to admire the lazy grace with which Truman threw the ball. He had a deceptive windup that made it look as if he were just going to toss the ball. No matter how lazy his windup looked, when the ball left his hand, it seemed to explode. He had struck out nine men already, and the Mountaineers were leading three to nothing.
All during the game a large boy and a big man, apparently the boy’s father, sat on the front bench, directly in front of Alona and the boys. They were rooting for the other team, and the man’s language was so bad Alona finally had to speak to him. “Would you mind not using such language, sir?”
“If you don’t like my language, sit somewhere else,” the man grunted. The red-faced man with veins in his nose and inflamed eyes had obviously been drinking. His son, who looked to be about thirteen, was keeping up a running stream of invectives against Truman, and finally Zac had had enough.
“You shut up about my father!”
“Your old man ain’t worth spit!” the boy said and turned around. He had small piggish eyes and was fat but muscular too.
Zac, with his hair-trigger temper, threw himself at the bigger boy. It seemed a hopeless contest, but Zac managed to overturn the boy, and the two fell in the dust.
“Beat his head in, son!” The big man laughed.
The boy struck Zac directly in the face, knocking him over backward. The big boy went after him, fists flailing, but as he did, Tim jumped into the fight, and Zac managed to get up, and now he and his brother were both pounding on the boy.
With a curse the big man jumped down and grabbed Tim by the arm, slapped him in the face, and then made a grab at Zac.
“Truman!” Alona yelled, and she saw Truman break from the mound and come flying across the field just as the big man caught Zac in the chest with his fist and knocked him down.
Truman seized the big man and shouted, “You keep your hands off my boys!”
“I’ll break your face!” the man yelled. He drew back his fist, but Truman was ready. With the same motion he used on the pitcher’s mound—one that looked almost lazy but was deceitful in its power—Truman delivered a punch to the man’s midsection. It sounded like a bass drum being hit, and the man fell over backward, his mouth opening as he gasped for breath. Truman looked down at him and grinned. “When you get up, I’ll do it to you again.”
By this time the umpire was over there too, shouting, “You’re out of the game, Jennings!”
“Fine with me,” Truman said cheerfully. He stood looking down at the fallen man and then reached over and helped him up. “Let’s shake hands. No sense spoilin’ the Fourth of July.”
The big man was finally regaining his breath in hoarse, agonizing gasps. He pulled his arm away roughly and muttered, “Come on, son,” and lumbered off.
“Well, he didn’t have to be so rude about it,” Truman remarked. “Are you okay, boys?” he asked his sons as he inspected a reddening spot on Zac’s face.
“I’m fine, Dad,” he said.
“Me too,” Tim added.
“All right then. Let’s go get somethin’ to eat.”
* * *
“This here restaurant’s a good one,” Truman said. The family was seated at a table, waiting to order. “You can tell this is a good restaurant by the calendars.”
The boys all looked around. “How can you tell what the food’s like by looking at calendars, Dad?” Carl inquired.
“The more calendars, the better the food in a restaurant. I’ve been meanin’ to teach you boys that. Now, you take a restaurant with no calendar at all on the wall, and you might as well forget that one. The food will probably make you sick. If you got one calendar, it’ll be so-so. But look at this place. They got four calendars. The food’s gonna be great here. It never fails.” He opened the menu, then shook his head. “Sure is expensive to eat in here,” he remarked. “Look at these prices!”
The boys all wanted hamburgers. Truman ordered a barbecued pork sandwich, and Alona ordered a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. The hamburgers were big and juicy, and the French fries, which they baptized in plenty of ketchup, were hot and crunchy. They washed them down with red Nehi sodas, and Truman left a quarter tip for the waitress. “We’re livin’ high, honey.” He winked at Alona. “Now, let’s go see about that movie.”
They walked down the block to the Majestic Theater, where Flash Gordon Conquers Mars was playing. Truman paid for the tickets—ten cents for the boys, twenty-three cents for the adults—and they marched inside. After buying popcorn, they went in and found seats. For the next hour they watched Flash Gordon battle the Merciless Ming, and Alona smiled every time the boys cheered, Truman cheering right along with them. They watched a newsreel showing a man with a silly-looking mustache and Babe Ruth hitting three home runs in one game and then cartoons.
As they left the theater, they could hear that the fireworks were starting. They hurried to find a good place to watch and oohed and ahhed with the crowds of people watching. After the grand finale was over, Tim took his mother’s hand and said, “This was the best Fourth of July ever!”
“I wish every day was the Fourth of July,” Zachary said.
“Well, it won’t be. Back to work tomorrow for me.” Truman laughed and ruffled Zac’s hair.
* * *
As usual, after the boys were in bed and had quieted down, Truman and Alona lay side by side in their own bed, discussing the events of the day. The windows were open, admitting what little hot breeze there was.
“I think the boys are right,” Truman said. “It’d be nice
if every day was a vacation day like this, but tomorrow it’s back to work.”
Alona wanted to beg him to forget about the higher-paying explosives job, to tell him that they could do without the money, but she knew he took great pride in providing for his family, so she held her tongue. Nonetheless, she couldn’t shake her fears for his safety.
For a long time they lay there talking quietly, and finally he rolled over and asked, “What about that reward you promised me this morning?” He reached over and pulled her against him.
She felt the strength of his long, lean body. “That was if you won,” she teased, playfully pushing him away.
But Truman Jennings held her tightly. “Come on, now. Don’t be mean.”
“Well, all right. I suppose you deserve a consolation prize at least.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly on the lips. His arms closed strongly around her, and she clung to him tightly, praying that he’d be with her forever.
CHAPTER TWO
Wish on a Star
The glow of the Fourth of July celebration was still on the Jennings family as they arrived at church the following Sunday. True enough, although Truman’s team had lost the game, the boys had been thrilled and never ceased talking about how easily their dad had disposed of the big man with the obnoxious boy. Zachary had told the story multiple times, each retelling more dramatic than the last. Even now as they approached the entrance to the church, he was telling his friend Dave the story. “ . . . and bam! My dad popped that big sucker right in the bread basket! You should’ve seen him, Dave! His mouth opened up and he fell over backward and laid there like an ol’ whale rollin’ around!”
“That’s enough of that, Zac,” Alona said. “I don’t want to hear any more about that fight.”
“Fight!” Truman said with mock surprise. “Why, that wasn’t no fight, sweetheart. If it had been a fight, he’d still be there on the ground. I just gave him a little love tap. And you seen me help him up.”
“Yeah, and you heard what he said, Mom,” Zac said, his eyes shining. “I bet it’ll be a long time before he sticks his big nose into somebody else’s business.”
“That’s enough. Go with your dad now and behave yourself in Sunday school.”
“Don’t I always?” Zac said with a hurt look.
“No, you don’t,” Tim said. “You’re always askin’ fool questions.”
“I don’t either ask fool questions! If I ask a question about the Bible, it’s important.”
“Important! The last time Dad was teaching about Jonah and the whale you asked how much the whale weighed.”
“Well, that’s important!” Zac said stubbornly. “If he’s big enough to swallow ol’ Jonah, he’d have to weigh a heap.”
“Come on, boys. We can fight about Jonah and the whale later.” Truman grinned and winked at Alona. “I don’t know if I ever teach these boys anything. They spend most of their time arguing.”
“They learn a lot, Truman.” Alona smiled. “Don’t let them dominate the class—especially Zac.”
Truman pulled Zac away as he tried to launch into an argument with his mother on that issue. Truman taught the elementary-age boys, and though Carl was younger than the other children in the class, he had convinced his dad that he was not about to be in any “baby” class when he could be with him.
Alona went at once to the nursery, where she found the pastor’s wife already busy changing diapers. “Let me help you with that, Betty.”
Betty Hodges, a slight brunette with two boys of her own, shook her head. “We’re going to have to have help. We have every crib full this morning.”
“Well, that’s good. We’ll put them two to a crib if we have to.”
As the two women worked together efficiently, Betty remarked, “I can’t tell you, Alona, how much my husband and I appreciate you and your family.”
Alona looked up with surprise. She had just finished pinning a diaper on a chubby baby, and she picked him up and held him over her shoulder after guarding it first with a diaper. “Why, it’s been our blessing to be here, your husband such a fine preacher and all. I wish he was preaching at the revival next month.”
“Charles thinks that since our congregation hears him all the time, it’s good to have an evangelist in.”
“He won’t preach as good as Brother Charles, that’s for sure.”
Betty laughed. “I wish everybody was as supportive of my husband as you are.”
“Well, they should be!”
Alona served her time in the nursery during the Sunday school hour, then was relieved by Elaine Simmons, who insisted, “You’ve missed every sermon the past three Sundays. Now, you go listen to it.”
“Well, I probably need it, Elaine.”
She left the nursery and made her way to her family in the church. The service had already started, but she spotted them midway down on the center aisle. She stepped in the pew next to her husband, picked up the hymnal, and began singing “The Old Rugged Cross.” She had a beautiful voice and had been urged to sing in the choir, which she had done for a time, but now she divided her time between serving in the nursery and singing in the choir.
She loved the old hymns, and as they sang, she felt her heart lifted up with thanksgiving. Glancing at her boys and her husband, she breathed a prayer. “Lord, I thank you for giving me such a fine family.”
After the offering and the choir anthem, Brother Charles got up and preached for half an hour. As good a preacher as he was, there were some folks who got nervous if the sermon went past noon, so the minister always did his best to finish on time. When he gave the invitation, no one came forward to give their lives to Christ. Brother Charles looked disappointed as always, and after he’d dismissed the congregation, he moved to the back to shake hands with people as they filed out the door.
“That was a pretty good sermon, Preacher,” Truman said. “Why don’t you give me next Sunday’s sermon, and I’ll polish it up for you and improve on it.”
Brother Charles laughed, for Truman always said something like this. “I’m sure you could, Truman, but I guess I’ll have to struggle along on my own.”
As the Jennings family headed down the church steps, Truman said, “I came to a decision during that sermon.”
“Was it something about the sermon?” Alona asked.
“Yes, I guess it was. He was talking about making decisions, so I decided we ought to go on a picnic today.”
“Truman, you’re crazy!” she said. “What a thing to say!”
“What’s wrong with that? A man’s supposed to take care of his family, so I’ve decided to take us all on a picnic. Let’s stop at home and get some sandwich fixin’s and our swimsuits, and then maybe we can swing by the grocery store and get a watermelon.”
“Well, I don’t think you heard a word of the sermon,” Alona said, not able to restrain a smile. “But a picnic would be nice.”
****
The boys splashed in the cool river, yelling like wild animals. They were wearing shorts, and Alona watched as Truman joined them wearing a two-piece swimming suit. Their collie, Buddy, sat close beside her. He had worn himself out chasing squirrels, and now she reached over and hugged him. “Buddy, won’t you ever learn you can’t catch a squirrel?”
The dog barked and licked her ear.
Alona watched with a smile on her face as Truman picked the boys up one at a time and threw them high into the air, letting them splash back into the river. After they grew tired of that game, Truman led them to a tree with a long vine that hung over the river, and they swung on it like monkeys. When Truman’s turn came again, instead of swinging on the vine, he climbed into the tree and dove into the river. It was a familiar sight, but it still made Alona nervous. She knew Truman would dive from the top of the Washington Monument if he had a chance, but now the boys were copying him and climbing the tree to dive off from higher and higher branches. Zac, like his father, would probably have gone to the top, but Truman told the boy to stay
a little lower. Tim was more cautious. He was not the daring type, and Truman had to urge him to climb a little higher.
Carl took just one dive and then trudged through the water to sit on the shore beside Alona. He threw his arm around the dog and gave him a squeeze.
“Don’t you want to swim anymore, Carl?” Alona asked.
“Hootie doesn’t want to swim.”
“Well, why don’t you leave Hootie with me, and you go swim with your brothers.”
“He likes to be with me all the time.”
Alona merely smiled at this. Carl’s imaginary friend troubled Truman, but it did not bother Alona in the least. When she was Carl’s age, she’d had an imaginary friend named Delores, but she’d grown out of it, as she knew Carl certainly would too.
Carl watched as his dad and brothers switched from diving to seeing who could make the biggest splash with a cannonball. “Hootie, you stay here,” Carl instructed. “I’m gonna go make a huge splash off that third limb.”
“Be careful, Carl.”
“I’m always careful, Mom. You look out for Hootie.”
“Oh, I’ll take good care of Hootie.”
****
That night Alona fixed what she called a Depression supper. The main dish was a chicken potpie, and the dessert was something she called Depression pudding. She mixed up butter, sugar, jam, flour, and milk with a few other ingredients and then baked it. When it was done, she heated up a sauce of brown sugar, water, and cinnamon and served it over the pudding.
One good thing about having hungry boys and a hungry husband was no matter what you fed them, they devoured it as if it were the best food in the world. Alona enjoyed their time together at the supper table, where it was always lively. Her boys were so different from one another. Sometimes they seemed to have been born to different parents. Ten-year-old Tim was very sensitive and interested in artistic things; Zac was fearless, tough, and determined to be a great athlete like his father; and Carl was inquisitive and good at taking things apart, even at the age of six. The kitchen seemed to resound with their arguments and laughter, and afterward they all pitched in to wash the dishes and straighten up the kitchen.
The Widow's Choice Page 2
