After I had some breakfast, I wandered up to the back fields and found Daddy standing there, staring into the distance, his hand shielding his eyes from the brightening sun.
“Lookin’ at somethin’ particular?” I asked, my tone subdued because I hadn’t quite gotten over his display at dinner Saturday night.
He turned around suddenly. “Oh, mornin’, baby.” He paused a minute, seemingly contemplating the wisdom of keeping that nickname for me, but he smiled at me wanly. “I’m just thinkin’.”
“Gemma at work already?”
“Yep.”
“Did you say anythin’ to her about last night?”
Daddy took his time answering my question. “I don’t much like talkin’ about you girls to each other, Jessilyn. You know that.”
“Yes’r. But this time’s different. She’s got me worried.”
“Baby, you ain’t got to worry none.” He paused again and then reached out to tug my ear affectionately. “I spoke with Gemma. We got an agreement between us so this don’t happen again. Okay? Now that’s all I want to say on the matter.”
“Okay.” I followed Daddy’s gaze out to the fields where some dried brown leaves had begun to dot the crops. “In town the other day, I heard Mr. Poe talkin’ about how we ain’t gonna get much rain. He could feel it in his bones, he said.”
“Well, let’s hope Mr. Poe’s bones are wrong.” He pushed his hat back and leaned down to kiss my cheek. “I’ll see you at dinnertime, Jessilyn.”
“Yes’r.” I watched him go, his shoulders low. My daddy always walked tall and proud, and when he didn’t, I knew there was trouble around the bend. Hot and dry was a bad prescription for growing crops, and bad crops meant bad earnings for my daddy. I was starting to think hard about that job I’d talked about getting, only this time I was thinking the money might need to be used for family matters instead of for my own.
My heart was heavy and my face was already dripping with sweat, so I decided to head over to Miss Cleta’s house down the road. She always had sweet tea at the ready, and she’d toss some fruit in it for extra taste. Not to mention that she liked to bake and I could count on getting treats at her house. If I was going to be hot, I might as well be hot and full.
I found her sitting on her porch, and she clapped her hands the minute she saw me. “I was just tellin’ the Lord I could use some company today,” she hollered. “And here some comes.”
“Hey there, Miss Cleta,” I called with a wave. “How’ve you been?”
“Oh, I always get by, Jessilyn Lassiter. You know me.” She waved for me to come into the house, and I followed her inside. To my disappointment, the house didn’t smell like something just out of the oven as it usually did.
“I’ll tell you, this heat is just the end,” Miss Cleta said as she pulled two glasses from her cupboard. “And don’t you know, I had Elmer Poe stop in yesterday, and he said he sees a drought ahead.”
“I know. He feels it in his bones.”
“That’s right. And long as I’ve known that man, he’s never been wrong about the weather. He’s like a walkin’ almanac.” She waved off my attempts to help her and pushed me into one of the kitchen chairs. As she poured the sweet tea, she continued talking. “Now then, that Elmer Poe . . . he ain’t never been quite right since the day he was born. I remember seein’ him a few days after he came into the world. I was only ten years old then, but I could see he weren’t like other babies. Slow, the doctor called him. But that boy’s got a sixth sense, I’m tellin’ you. He knows things other people don’t know. Even gettin’ old and gray as he is, he’s still got more instinct than any of the smart folk in town.”
“I know he does. That’s why I’m worried. Drought means bad things for my family, you know.”
She set a glass in front of me and then put one of her blue-veined hands on my shoulder. “Jessilyn, God’s got you in the palm of His hand. Every one of you. He has His eyes on everythin’. You have faith in that, now.”
I smiled at her, but I wasn’t so sure about what she said. Faith was something my momma and daddy shared. It was something I saw in Gemma and in Miss Cleta. But it wasn’t something I had yet come to know for myself.
I watched her continue to chatter on about this and that while she pulled a tray of small round balls out of the icebox.
“No-bake cookies,” she told me as she set them in the center of the kitchen table. “It’s the only way I can dabble in the kitchen on days like this.”
I ate quietly for a minute before I said, “Think my daddy’s pretty worried about a drought.”
I could always talk easily to Miss Cleta, and I watched her while she took a long sip of sweet tea, contemplating what she would say.
“Well now,” she began, “seems to me your daddy’s known adversity before and got through it just fine.”
“I s’pose.”
“Not to mention that we don’t know for sure that Elmer Poe’s right with his predictin’. Besides, you remember what I said about bein’ in God’s hand. He’ll watch out for you all right.”
“Maybe so, but I got to find me some work. It ain’t right to be sittin’ around doin’ nothin’ all summer when my daddy’s workin’ so hard.”
“Your daddy won’t like you takin’ work in town, Jessilyn. I can near about guarantee that.”
“But we need money.”
“You think he’d have your momma go out and get work?”
“No, ma’am!”
“Well then, he ain’t gonna want you goin’ out for work, neither.”
“But he let Gemma.”
“Gemma’s a woman of nineteen. And besides that, no matter how much you feel like family, Gemma’s not blood kin. He likely figures she’s got a right to make her own choice.”
I stirred my sweet tea with a spoon to corral a berry and plop it in my mouth. “Momma’s got all sorts of things to do around the house. I ain’t got nothin’ to do all summer. And Gemma, she’s workin’ so much I barely ever see her. She didn’t get home last night until midnight. My daddy was near fit to be tied. I swear I won’t see her this summer at all, and I’ll be bored as can be.”
“You help your momma, don’t you?”
“Yes’m. But that don’t fill my time up much. She insists on doin’ most of it. I expect she thinks I can’t do some things as well as she can.”
“Just stuck in her ways, I reckon. A body can get that way after years of doin’ things themselves.” She refilled my glass. “You know, I don’t think your daddy would take money from you, anyhow. Even if he did let you get work . . . which he wouldn’t.”
“Well, I want some work. Even if Daddy won’t let me give him the money I make, I can at least buy things that I need so he won’t feel like he needs to buy them for me.”
Miss Cleta just sat there in her chair, tapping the table, deep in thought. I ate two more cookies to fill the silence before she spoke up.
“What would you say to workin’ for me?”
“What’s that?”
“I said you might like to work for me. I ain’t no spring chicken anymore. Could use some help with chores. Dustin’ and gardenin’ and such. You know how my arthritis has been actin’ up lately. I could use an extra pair of hands maybe two or three days a week. My dear husband left me settled for a long life, and I could pay you the same as you would make moppin’ floors at the grocery or some other such work.”
“Do you mean that, Miss Cleta?” I exclaimed. “I could work for you?”
“So long as your daddy and momma agree it’s fine.” She folded her hands, a self-satisfied grin spreading across her face. “Yes ma’am. I do believe I’ve come up with a fine idea. I can say it’s been too quiet around here these days. This place could use some livenin’ up. And Lord knows you can liven a place up, Miss Jessilyn.”
“I don’t know I’d feel right takin’ money from you, Miss Cleta. Bein’ neighbors, I ought to be lendin’ you a hand without expectin’ a return for it. I figure Daddy’
ll feel the same.”
Miss Cleta set her glass down so hard my iced tea spoon clattered from the vibration. “Now you see here, Jessilyn Lassiter, I ain’t accustomed to takin’ work for nothin’. A neighborly favor is borrowin’ sugar now and again. It ain’t cleanin’ dusty tables and pullin’ weeds.” She crossed her arms emphatically. “No ma’am. If I want some help around this here house, I’m payin’ for it. And you can tell your daddy that if need be. I’m his elder, after all, so he’ll have to take notice of what I’m sayin’.”
My eyebrows were arched high in surprise, and I sat dead still, not sure how to react.
Miss Cleta took a good look at my face and broke out in that hooting laugh of hers. “Land’s sake, child, you look as if you’d seen a ghost. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before in your life.”
“I don’t suppose I’ve seen you so determined before, is all.”
“Posh! I’m an ornery old thing six days out of seven, and you know it.” She used her napkin to wipe up a drop of tea that had spilled when she slammed her glass down. “But I still mean what I say. If you’re workin’ for me, you work for pay. You hear?”
“Yes’m.”
“Well then,” she said with a wave of her hand, “get! Ask your daddy so’s I don’t sit here in suspense all day.”
I hopped up, nearly spilling my leftover iced tea.
“Slow down, now,” she cautioned. “A lady doesn’t go galumphin’ around like that. You just take a slow pace.”
“Yes’m.” I took the last few sips of my iced tea to be polite, placed my empty glass in her sink, and thanked her kindly for her hospitality.
“You just come on down to tell me what they say,” Miss Cleta told me, nodding in response to all the words of thanks I gave her as I made my way to the door. “I’ll look for you, and when you come by, we’ll talk about a work schedule if you get the okay.”
By the time I reached the road, I was about to burst with excitement, and I wanted nothing more than to shoot off like a polecat. But I knew Miss Cleta would be watching me from the porch, and she’d be sure to holler after me to be a lady if she saw me tearing down the road. Instead, I waited until I turned the corner out of sight before I set off at a brisk run. I was breathless and dripping with sweat when I got home.
My heart sank when I saw that the truck was gone. I was stir-crazy, knowing I’d have to wait until Momma came back from wherever she’d gone to ask her about my job. At least it was getting near dinnertime, and she’d be back in time to fix something for Daddy and the field hands. I decided I’d head into the kitchen and get some food started. It couldn’t but help butter Momma up, anyway.
Momma came in while I was putting slices of cold ham onto some of her homemade biscuits.
“Oh, good,” she said when she spotted me working at the counter. “I’m runnin’ late. I was visitin’ with Mrs. Tinker and lost track of the time.”
The mention of Mrs. Tinker made my spine tingle as it did every time. It didn’t matter that Mr. Tinker had been executed for murder four years ago. It was still fresh in my mind, that summer of threats, violence, and betrayal; that summer when my daddy found out his best friend, Mr. Tinker, had betrayed us as a member of the Ku Klux Klan.
“You know,” Momma continued, “there’s somethin’ goin’ on over at the Colbys’ jammin’ up the road.”
“What?”
“Don’t know, and it was too crowded for me to stop and find out. But the sheriff was there.”
“Maybe I’ll run down and find out.”
“Yes, you do that, Jessilyn,” she said. “I’d like to find out if Mae’s all right. You know, she’s awful far along.”
Mae and Nate Colby lived right past Miss Cleta, and I sometimes watched their little girl, Callie, while they stepped out for an evening walk or trip into town. Mae was as pregnant as could be with their second child, one that Miss Cleta insisted was a boy because of how low the baby was set in Mae’s belly. In fact, the last time I had seen her, I stopped to help her dig up a few weeds since she could barely bend enough to grasp them.
There was no mistaking the trouble that surrounded that house today. Once I rounded the corner, I saw vehicles for the sheriff and two of his deputies. I marveled at how drastically things had changed since I’d left Miss Cleta’s only a short time earlier. I spotted Miss Cleta on her porch, twisting a handkerchief in her hands, straining to see the Colby house.
“What’s goin’ on, Miss Cleta?” I called. “Mae all right?”
“Heavens, child, it’s a sorry thing,” she cried tearfully. “A sorry thing!”
Her voice and expression frightened the life out of me, and I ran as fast as I could up to the porch, taking the steps in one leap.
“What’s happened?” I asked breathlessly. “Is somebody hurt?”
“It’s the little one,” she said in a voice that was shaken.
“The baby?”
“No, honey. It’s Callie.”
“Callie? What’s happened to Callie, Miss Cleta?”
“She’s gone missin’,” she said with a sob. “She’s up and gone missin’ and they don’t know where she’s at.”
My heart froze, and I stumbled down the porch steps, determined to find out more.
“There’s a lot of commotion over there, Jessilyn,” Miss Cleta called after me. “You be careful, and come on by to give me news when you find out.”
“Yes’m,” I hollered back. “I will.” As I ran across the dried grass, I lost my footing here and there, fear making my legs go numb. I had spent enough time with the little girl in her three years on this earth to make me as fond of her as of a baby sister. I couldn’t bear to think of her lost or stolen.
On my way inside the Colby house, I ran into Sheriff Clancy.
“Whoa there, Jessilyn,” he said calmly. “Where you gettin’ yourself to?”
“What’s happened to Callie, Sheriff?” I pleaded. “Miss Cleta says she’s gone missin’.”
“Now why don’t you just calm down. You look like a wild rabbit.”
“But if she’s gone missin’, I want to help. Maybe I can find her. I know where she likes to play.”
He took me by the shoulders and made to steer me down the porch steps. I didn’t like Sheriff Clancy so much, and I certainly didn’t like being manhandled by him. I crouched down to get out from under his grasp and turned to face him.
“Miss Jessilyn, it’s bein’ took care of,” he said. “I done got four of my men out roundin’ up a search party, and Callie’s daddy is already out with some of the men in his family lookin’ round. We ain’t got need of your help just now.”
“How long’s she been missin’?”
“Can’t quite figure on it. Seems maybe she gone off durin’ the night. For all we know, she’s just up and fallen asleep somewhere where we ain’t seen her. Could be all this worryin’ is for nothin’.”
I heard his words, but they didn’t make me feel much better. “I got to do somethin’. Can’t I at least go look?”
He moved his chaw around in his cheek a bit and turned aside to spit. “I reckon you can go on and look anywheres you think a good idea, if that’s what you want. There ain’t no rules about it.”
Through the screen door I saw Mae Colby sitting on the sofa, her face in her hands, shaking with sobs. Her momma was on the sofa beside her, trying to comfort her.
“Jessilyn Lassiter,” Mae’s momma called out. “That you?”
“Yes’m.”
“You come on in here if you please.”
I was as uncomfortable as could be when I entered that house, but the minute Mae saw me walk up in front of her, she took my hands in hers and said one thing. “Help me find my baby, Jessie.”
The way she looked at me gave me chills. I was utterly compelled to help her, and the conviction in her eyes filled me with determination.
“You seen our Callie, Jessilyn?” Mae’s momma asked through tears. “You seen her at all?”
&nbs
p; I shook my head slowly, hating the words I had to say, knowing that they’d steal away some hope. “No, ma’am. I ain’t seen her in three days.”
Mae’s momma put a hand over her mouth to hold back a sob and gripped her daughter more tightly.
“What happened, Mae?” I asked quietly, my voice shaking. “When did you find her missin’?”
“I didn’t find her in her bed this mornin’,” she said in what was more of a moan than anything, her words coming out in hiccups. “I thought she’d gone into the fields with Nate like she does sometimes. We didn’t know till he came back an hour ago without her that she was . . .”
“She’s gone wanderin’ before, Mae.” I peered out the window like I’d see Callie coming up the walk. “Maybe she went to the berry patch like last time.”
“We already looked there,” Mae’s momma said, her voice catching. “We looked near about everywhere. Ain’t nobody seen her since she went to bed last night.”
Mae looked at her momma with desperation in her eyes. “I should’ve checked in on her last night,” she wailed. “What kind of momma don’t check on her baby girl?”
Her momma wrapped her up and rocked her like a child. I looked away, unable to bear the sight of them. “She’s got to be somewhere,” I said to myself. “I’ll go look some of the places we like to play.”
Mae pulled away from her momma’s grasp, gasping for breath. “You do that, Jessilyn Lassiter,” she said determinedly, her fists grinding into the sofa on either side of her. “You go find my baby girl and bring her back to me.”
I stepped back awkwardly as she began to sob again. The sadness of that room was making my feet itch, and I knew I had to do something . . . anything. I turned and ran out past the sheriff, leaping off the porch without using the steps.
Cottonwood Whispers Page 5
