The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree

by Susan Wittig Albert

  Ophelia pulled up at the gate. When Emma was alive, she had kept up the yard, but now there wasn’t much to it but dirt and weeds and a few straggly flowers along the porch, where a pair of dominecker hens were scratching under the watchful eye of their red-watded rooster. A white goat was tethered beside the fence, thoughtfully nibbling what was left of Emma’s favorite Ducher rosebush—a white China rose, the only white one Ophelia had ever seen.

  Ophelia tootled the horn, and in a few moments Lucy hurried out onto the porch, waving when she saw the car and starting eagerly down the rock-bordered dirt path. But when Ophelia got out and Lucy saw who it was, she dropped her arm and stood still.

  With some wistfulness, Ophelia had to admit that Ralph’s wife was a beauty. She wasn’t more than twenty-two or twenty-three, and her thin cotton dress was buttoned tight across a full bosom and snugged in to a small waist. She was barefoot and her red hair was twisted up carelessly to keep it off her neck, but the untidiness only added to her loveliness, making her look like a child. There was something of the child in her face, too, a welcoming eagerness, even when her visitor turned out to be somebody other than the person she might have been expecting. She was wary, yes, in the way a child is wary of a stranger. But who wouldn’t be on her guard, living out here, with the nearest neighbor—the Spencers—threequarters of a mile away, back toward town?

  Seeing the eagerness, Ophelia took heart. This girl is just plain lonely, she thought. Ralph’s boys might be company, but she’s happy to see anyone who might pay her some attention, break up the monotony of an isolated life. Maybe she would have preferred it to be Jed, but his wife would do almost as well. Of course, she was an optimist, Ophelia reminded herself, but it wouldn’t hurt to start off thinking like this, until she was proved wrong.

  “Why, hello, Opie,” Lucy said warmly. “I wasn’t expecting anybody this morning. So nice of you to come by.”

  “I was just out this way,” Ophelia said, “and I thought I’d stop and see how you were doing.” Of course, if Lucy gave it a moment’s thought, she’d know this wasn’t true. Ralph’s place was at the end of the road, which dead-ended in the swamp just behind that clump of trees to the west. You wouldn’t come this far unless you were coming here. But maybe she wouldn’t think about it. “You okay?” she added.

  Lucy crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Well, to tell the truth, it’s not been any too good the past week. Ralph is away, workin’, and it’s hard, bein’ here alone with the boys.” Her voice was light and soft, like lemon meringue fluff “They’re at school today, and on weekends, they’re off in the woods, huntin’ and fishin’ Mostly, it’s just me, by myself.”

  “And now there’s that convict on the loose,” Ophelia said. “It’s been a whole week. I’m surprised they haven’t caught him yet. Somebody said they all have shaved heads at that farm. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot him.” At the plant sale on Saturday, she’d heard that the dogs had somehow got confused on the scent, some going one way, the others going a different way. In the muddle, they’d lost the trail. They were good dogs, trained bloodhounds, and it wasn’t often that they lost their quarry. But Sheriff Burns was still saying it was only a matter of time before they had the convict under lock and key again.

  Lucy looked away. “I reckon he’s a smart one, knows how to live off the land back there in the swamp. Either that, or he’s gone clean out of the county by now.”

  “You’d think somebody’d see him and turn him in,” Ophelia said. “A colored man with a shaved head wearing a striped prison suit—a dead giveaway, seems to me.”

  “He’s probably wearing Tad Spencer’s overalls by this time,” Lucy said with a little laugh. “Miz Spencer missed ’em off her clothesline, along with Mr. Spencer’s blue work shirt. And he’s not colored.”

  “Oh, really? I just assumed—”

  Lucy let out her breath uneasily. “’ Course, I haven’t seen him, but that’s what they say. Young, too, no more’n a boy. But old or young, I couldn’t take a chance. I was sure glad when Jed came out here and took a hand with Junior and Scooter the Sunday the posse was here.”

  “Oh, did he?” Ophelia felt a vast sense of relief. Of course, that didn’t explain why Jed had told her that it was the sheriff who asked him to come out.

  “Yes. They were wild to go with the sheriff and the dogs to hunt down the escapees, and I knew I couldn’t keep them at the house for long. So I ran to the Spencers’ and called Jed. I don’t think he raised a finger in anger, but he cert’nly put the fear of God into those boys. They’ve been a little more mannerly to me since.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Ophelia said, and smiled happily, thinking that she was glad. “Jed has always been good with Ralph’s kids. You have any more trouble making them mind, you let him know and he’ll give ‘em a good talkin’-to.”

  “Oh, I will.” Lucy tilted her head. “I’m sorry, Opie. I’d offer you some tea, but I don’t have any. I need to do some grocery shoppin’ when I can get a ride to town. I’ve got some garden coming on out back, so there’s plenty of peas and greens and the like, and I’ll be putting up beans and tomatoes before long and we’ll have okra and corn come summer. But right now, I’m about out of anything other than garden truck and bacon and sausage from that pig Ralph butchered last winter.”

  Ophelia was surprised, then realized she shouldn’t be. “The Studebaker isn’t running?”

  Lucy shook her head. “Ralph is bringing the parts with him when he comes home next time. I could hitch up Junior’s horse, but he’s limping pretty bad on his right foreleg, and I don’t want to risk making it worse with an eight-mile round trip.” She shrugged. “It hasn’t been too bad, I guess. Tea and coffee are what I miss most”

  “Well, for pity’s sake,” Ophelia said warmly. “You can’t go without coffee and groceries, Lucy. Get dressed and comb your hair. I’ll take you into town and bring you back.”

  “Really?” Lucy’s luminous gray eyes opened wide. “Oh, Opie, that would be swell! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate—”

  “You don’t have to,” Ophelia said, shushing her. Doing good was its own reward, she’d always thought. “Did Ralph leave you some money?”

  “Enough,” Lucy replied. “And the hens are laying. I’ve got a couple dozen eggs to trade.” She hesitated uncertainly. “Listen, I’d ask you in, but the place is kind of—”

  “That’s all right,” Ophelia said. “I’ll just wait in the car.”

  “Oh, good. I’ll go and put on a different dress, then. I’ll be just a jiffy.”

  Lucy was true to her word, and startlingly lovely in a yellow print dress with a white collar and piping down the front, her red hair loose and flowing under a ribbon-trimmed felt hat, her gray eyes sparkling with excitement. “It is so kind of you to lend a helping hand,” she said, when she got into the car beside Ophelia. “I sure hope Ralph gets that car fixed soon.”

  When they drove into town, Ophelia made a detour past the Dahlias’ new clubhouse so Lucy could see it. She had invited Lucy to become a member, and Lucy (who confessed that she really was awfully lonely) had agreed. She noticed that Beulah’s beautiful sign was still leaning up against the cucumber tree and made a note to let Liz know it hadn’t been put in the ground yet. Just then, she saw her neighbor walking down the block toward home, her hair freshly curled.

  “That’s Mrs. Adcock, just back from Beulah’s,” Ophelia said, and added, with just a touch of spite, “Let’s wave, Lucy.”

  So they both waved merrily and Ophelia honked the horn. She was gratified to see Mrs. Adcock’s prissy mouth drop open when she saw who was with her. She drove down another block and then up to the courthouse square, which she circled twice, very slowly, waving at Beulah and Bettina, who were walking out of the Savings and Trust, and at Verna, who was just going into Lima’s Drugs. She nosed the Ford into the curb in front of Hancock’s Groceries, next to a dusty old roadster with patched tires and a ripped cloth top.

  Ophel
ia and Lucy went into the store. Mrs. Hancock was behind the counter, and from the way her eyebrows went up when she saw the two of them together, Ophelia guessed that she had heard about Jed and Lucy. Ophelia gave her an extra-large smile.

  “Lucy needs to stock up on staples, Mrs. Hancock. Lucy, where’s your list?”

  Lucy handed over her list. Mrs. Hancock swallowed her surprise and got to work. Flour, sugar, salt, cornmeal, coffee, tea, macaroni, navy beans, two pounds of prunes, a bag of potatoes, three pounds of corned beef, and a couple of cans of mackerel, along with two bars of Fels-Naptha laundry soap, a bottle of Mrs. Stewart’s bluing, a bar of Lifebuoy soap, a bottle of arnica, and some iodine and rubbing alcohol.

  “The boys are always scraping themselves,” Lucy said, at Ophelia’s questioning look, and added a bag of chocolate candy for the kids.

  Mrs. Hancock put everything into cardboard boxes and the grocery boy carried them out to the Ford, while Lucy handed over her fresh-laid brown eggs and paid the rest of the bill in cash. Mrs. Hancock, who was used to the people of Darling putting their groceries on credit, acted almost as if she didn’t know what to do with real money. She stared down for a moment at the bills in her hand, and Ophelia felt sure that Lucy had just made an indelible impression. But then, Ralph had a job and sent money home. These days, not every husband could do that—and some wouldn’t, if they could.

  The groceries safely loaded, Ophelia and Lucy were getting into the car when Jed came out of the diner on the other side of the Dispatch building, with three or four Elks. They stood and talked for a moment, their heads close together, as if they were discussing something troublesome. Then Jed turned. When he saw the two women, his eyes narrowed and his glance slid from his wife to Lucy and back to his wife again in a way that told Ophelia that while there probably wasn’t any truth behind the rumors that were flying all over town, Jed had been wishing.

  Good enough for you, fella, she thought to herself with a grim satisfaction. And then she thought, half-wistfully, Well, I can’t blame you, I reckon, Lucy is a beautiful girl, and young. So very young.

  A moment later, Jed had joined them. “Well, hello,” he said, smiling uncomfortably.

  “Hello, honey,” Ophelia said, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Lucy and I have just been doing some shopping.” She smiled at Lucy. “Nice to have the whole morning for some girl talk.”

  “Oh, yes!” Lucy smiled back, radiantly. “Jed, I can’t tell you how glad I was that Opie drove out to the place and asked if she could take me to get groceries. I don’t think we would’ve starved out there, because the boys can always shoot squirrels and the garden’s coming on. But we were out of flour and cof fee and sugar and just about everything else.”

  Jed gave his wife a small, weak grin. “I’m glad, too.” He turned to Lucy. “Next time you write to that man of yours, you tell him it’s high time he came home and took his wife to get her groceries. Tell him I said so.”

  “Oh, I will, Jed,” Lucy promised, in her lemon-meringue voice. “I surely will.” The clock in the courthouse bell tower struck. “Listen, I hate to rush us, Opie, but I need to get on back. The boys will be coming in from school before long.”

  “Don’t forget, Opie,” Jed said. “I’ve got City Council tonight” They held the meetings at the courthouse, where there was room if any of the townspeople wanted to come. Mostly, they didn’t. “We had a big dinner just now—meat loaf and potatoes. A sandwich is all I’ll want for supper.”

  An hour later, Ophelia was putting the Ford back into the garage. As she came around the house, she saw her neighbor sitting on the front porch in her rocking chair, her lap full of the peas she was shelling. Ophelia waved.

  “Hello, Mrs. Adcock,” she called cheerily. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” She looked up. “Not a cloud in the sky—blue as blue can be.”

  “A tad warm,” Mrs. Adcock replied, with a frown. She tossed a handful of peas into the pan at her feet. “Sun’s been hot all day, seems to me.”

  “Well, I guess a little sun won’t melt us,” Ophelia answered. “Beulah got a good do on your hair,” she said. “Looks pretty.” She was rewarded with a tart smile.

  In the kitchen, Ophelia saw that Florabelle had finished and gone home. She glanced at the clock. It was only three. She needed to telephone Bessie Bloodworth and tell her that she’d be glad to help out with the garden work the next day, morning or afternoon, whatever was best for Bessie. She wouldn’t ask her about that ghost, though. If she did, everybody listening in on the party line would hear it. She’d ask her tomorrow.

  And after she finished talking to Bessie, she’d make some tapioca pudding and open a jar of those spiced peaches she had put up last summer. Peaches and tapioca pudding—Jed’s favorite dessert, to go with his sandwich. It wouldn’t hurt to be a little nice to him, after his disappointment.

  And while she was at it, she’d make some peach cobbler. It was her turn to host the Monday night game of hearts, and the Dahlias loved her cobbler.

  EIGHT

  Verna Tidwell, Amateur Sleuth

  Verna and Lizzy ate their Monday lunch on the courthouse lawn, as usual, under the chinaberry tree. Today, they were joined by Alice Ann Walker, an enthusiastic Dahlia and one of the two cashiers at the Darling Savings and Trust Bank. Alice Ann’s husband, Arnold, had lost a leg in a railroad accident and was now permanently disabled, so Alice Ann was the family’s chief breadwinner. She’d been at the bank since she graduated from high school and was a more-or-less permanent fixture there. A few moments later, Myrtle Suggs sat down with them. Myrtle worked in dress goods at Mann’s Mercantile and did Mr. Mann’s bookkeeping. She brought a cheese-and-bacon sandwich and a hard-boiled egg. Alice Ann had brought her usual peanut-butter-and-grape-jelly sandwich. She had a grape arbor in her garden and made enough jelly to give every Dahlia a jar at Christmastime.

  Since the four of them worked around the square and could see what was going on with Darling’s businesses, their conversation was a little gloomy. Verna (from her vantage point in the probate office) said that property tax collection in Cypress County was down and the county commissioners were wondering where in the world they were going to find the money to fix the bridge over Pine Mill Creek that got washed out in the April rains.

  Alice Ann said that it had been an unusual morning at the bank. “Seems like half the town is taking their money out of their accounts. When I left, there were three people waiting in line.” She leaned forward and added that foreclosures were up and about to go higher, and that if she named names, they would all be surprised at who was about to get foreclosed. But they wouldn’t have to wait too much longer to find out, because the list of properties the bank intended to sell would be in the Dispatch at the end of the month. Everybody would get to read it.

  Myrtle, not to be outdone, said that if she told them who in town was so far behind in what they owed at the Mercantile that Mr. Mann wasn’t letting them have any more credit, they would probably have a big laugh, because it was good comeuppance for some who lorded it over others. But of course that list would never be in the newspaper, so maybe she should just whisper a few names—

  Lizzy said no, she shouldn’t, because things were hard enough for people without having their dirty laundry hung out all over town for everybody to see and point fingers, and anyway, judging from the number of bankruptcies that Mr. Moseley was filing, lots of folks were in the same sad situation. At which Myrtle had the grace to look ashamed and say that she was just having a little fun but maybe it wasn’t funny after all. She changed the subject.

  “Anybody goin’ to the Elks’ picnic on Saturday?” she asked brightly, and the conversation moved on to other things while they all finished eating, then folded up their lunch bags and got ready to go back to work.

  “I wonder where Bunny is,” Lizzy said to Verna as the others left. “You know, I think I actually miss her. I get impatient with her because she’s such a silly kid, but when she’s around,
she keeps us from getting so down in the dumps. She always finds something to tease us about and make us laugh.”

  “I’m curious, too,” Verna said. “First time she’s skipped lunch in quite a while.” Verna agreed with Lizzy about Bunny. Her perfume and makeup and flouncy ways were sort of silly, but it was a youthful silliness that livened you up when you were feeling dark and gloomy. “Maybe she just got busy at the drugstore. I’ll drop in and say hi.”

  Lizzy nodded. “See you at Ophelia’s tonight for hearts?”

  “I’ll be there,” Verna said. “What are you bringing?”

  “Haven’t decided,” Lizzy said. “Cookies, I guess. That’s easiest. I’ll have time to bake after work. See you tonight”

  Bunny wasn’t at the drugstore, as Verna discovered. Her glass display case gleamed and the cosmetics on the shelves behind it were attractively arranged, but Bunny herself was conspicuously absent.

  “Dunno where she is.” Lester Lima was behind the pharmacy counter in the back of the shop, dressed in his usual long white coat, recording a prescription in a ledger. He glowered at Verna over the tops of his gold-rimmed glasses.

  “Really?” Verna asked, surprised.

  “Didn’t come in to work this mornin’. Didn’t let on she wasn’t comin’ in, either. You see her, Miz Tidwell, you tell her that she’s not gonna have a job here if she doesn’t come to work tomorrow, or at least tell me when she is comin’ to work. She’s too flirty, anyhow.” At Verna’s raised eyebrow, he cleared his throat and added sourly, “Likes to make up to the menfolks more’n she should.”

  Verna suppressed the observation that Bunny’s flirtiness was probably good for business, although since Mr. Lima was a Baptist deacon, he likely took a dim view of that kind of advertising.