Song of Life

by C. L. McCullough

  This Saturday morning, Lila’s Cut and Shear had a good attendance. Several women who thought they were in the know had decided they needed a trim and every one of them brought an offering of food to pay for the news they hoped to get. Emmaline Harris refused to get under the dryer. She had problems hearing under that thing and so she sat at Raylene’s check in desk with a big cup of coffee and an even bigger cheese danish, quite willing to let her hair air dry, quite unwilling to miss a single word.

  “Were you actually there?” she asked Brenda Hall, her eyes bright with anticipation.

  “There? Hell, I served them,” Brenda retorted.

  Brenda was a well-liked woman, but her biggest asset was her waitressing job at Mimi’s. She overheard a lot there, usually not much of interest or importance, but every once in awhile she hit the jackpot, as she had last night.

  “I can’t believe Sunny was out on a date with her handyman.” Miss Ida Mae Ratcliff sniffed. She was as thin as her brother Ennis was fat, her hair a muddy gray she wore pulled back tightly in a French twist. More than once she’d lamented God’s sense of humor, giving her brother that gorgeous silver hair and leaving her with what looked like old dried mouse turds, as she’d once put it.

  “Now, I can’t say it was a date exactly,” Brenda cautioned. “They was having a meal, is all. But I have to say Sunny was dressed like she was on a date. Haven’t seen her in a skirt in years.”

  “She’s a heathen.” Miss Ida sniffed again. “If she went to church like a Christian should–”

  “What else was she wearing?” Crystal McLaren asked eagerly.

  “Shelitha, you’re gonna rub my scalp off!”

  “Oh, sorry Miz McGregor.” Lila’s eldest, earning money to buy her prom dress by washing hair in her mother’s establishment, quickly rinsed Bea McGregor and folded a small towel around her head. Both of them kept their ears tuned to the main conversation.

  “Well, she had on the prettiest top. Don’t believe I’ve ever seen it before. Cut sorta low, real tight sleeves, and y’all–she had on heels!”

  “No. Sunny? She ain’t been outta sneakers since high school,” Crystal exclaimed. “Sounds like she was putting some importance to it, don’t it?”

  “A handyman’s a handyman. Ain’t no way around it.” Miss Ida frowned at her image in the mirror. “Lila, can’t you do something about the tightness? It’s giving me a headache.”

  “Honey, if you’d only let me cut your hair–”

  “No. It’s not fittin’ for a woman my age. Just like it ain’t fittin’ for Sunny to be sparking with her handyman. Ennis says he’s a shady character.”

  “Ennis is an idiot, we all know that,” Crystal scoffed. “He come out to check on the shooting at our place. Didn’t even look around, not for footprints, or spent shells, or any kind of evidence, just asked George who he’d been having words with. Now I ask you, have you ever known George to have words with anybody?”

  “George is a right peaceful man, as we all know,” Miss Lila soothed her.

  “Lord, Ida, you get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Emmaline asked. “You’re as sour as clabbered milk.”

  “Wish she’d clabber,” Bea McGregor muttered. Shelitha earned a frown from her mother when she couldn’t stop giggling.

  “Do you want to hear this or not?” Brenda asked loudly.

  “You know we do, Brenda. Go on then, tell us what happened,” Emmaline begged.

  “Well.” Brenda held up a hand and examined the bright red polish Raylene had just applied. “She come in, looking all pretty and excited, and I said to her, I said, ‘Hey Sunny, haven’t seen you in here in a coon’s age. Thought you’d forgotten all about us.’”

  “And what did she say?” Bea asked eagerly.

  “If you all would quit interrupting.”

  “Sorry, Brenda,” Bea said. “Won’t happen again.”

  Brenda had a short conference with Raylene regarding appliques. Finally she made her choice and looked around at the other women.

  “Oh, she just said she’d been keeping busy, and she’d like to introduce me to her friend, Cas. That’s what she called him, her friend.”

  “Strange name that. Cas. Don’t believe as I’ve heard it before,” Emmaline said thoughtfully.

  “Obviously a nickname or some such. Now hush, Emmie, and let Brenda continue on,” Crystal scolded her.

  “He seemed real nice,” Brenda admitted. “Shook my hand and all, said he hoped to be in more often. Then he asked what I’d consider the best booth. They wanted a little privacy. They had important things to discuss regarding his work schedule. Well, I might have fallen for that if Sunny hadn’t gone all pink. Had this funny little smile on her face too. Anyway, I took them to that corner booth, the one that looks like a capital C?”

  “Oh, I was going to ask if he sat beside her or across from her, but I guess that answers my question. Ain’t no sides to that there booth.”

  “Nope. They didn’t act all lovey dovey or anything like that. When I brung them the menus I heard him ask what she wanted him to work on tomorrow. And she said most folks took weekends off and he should find himself something to do for pleasure. And he said–”

  She pointed out a crooked applique to Raylene. Poor Raylene was having a difficult time of it, because Brenda liked to use her hands when she talked and Raylene was paying more attention to what Brenda was saying than to Brenda’s hands.

  “He said what?” Ida asked impatiently. “Quit making a production out of this, girl, and get to the point.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Well, he said it was too soon for the pleasuring he was wanting, he had some wooing to do first.”

  “Oh my Lord, he didn’t. Did he really? Oh my Lord.” Emmaline fanned herself vigorously with a magazine, patting her chest as if in great distress. “Well, you know I saw them down by the river, coming out of that cottage. I have to wonder…you reckon that’s a trysting place for them?”

  “Lord, Emmie, you been reading too many romance novels!” Crystal scoffed. “You ought to know Sunny better than that. This Cas has only been here a couple of weeks. Sunny has a sterling reputation. You got no call to be putting on her what ain’t there.”

  “You’re right,” Emmaline said, shamefaced. “But still, I’m going to keep my eye on that there cottage.”

  “You do that, Emmie. It’ll keep you out of trouble.” Miss Lila smiled to take any sting from her remark. “There you go, Ida, all washed and dried and put up just as you like it. See you next week?”

  “If you think I’m leaving in the middle of all this, you’re plumb crazy, Lila. What I say is, if that Sunny had been tending to her church duties, as she should be, there wouldn’t be any question at all of her morals.”

  “It’s been stickin’ in your craw for years Sunny don’t attend church regular. Can’t see what difference it makes myself. Look at Mac Lawrence. At church every Sunday, goes to prayer meetings, and comes on to any female he meets, young or old. Been caught with his fly down at least twice that I know of. I have to wonder about his confessions. Old hypocrite.” Crystal made a face as she finished tearing down Mac’s character.

  “As I was saying,” Brenda raised her voice, looking miffed at losing the attention. “They ordered–he had the burger plate, she had a chef’s salad and after I brung it to them, I only had a couple of chances to hear what they were saying.

  “You remember that old summer kitchen Jim glassed up years ago? Well, she wants it finished. She don’t want a hot house like Jim planned, she wants a conservatory. Thinks the guests will like it.” She paused and considered. “They might, they just might. Anyway, she wants him starting on that, and he said he would Sunday.”

  “Be better off in church,” Miss Ida muttered.

  “Maybe he’s got his own church, Ida, you ever think of that?” Lila said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lila. How can you have a church without four walls and a roof? And a priest to keep you honest.”

&nb
sp; Miss Lila shook her head and didn’t bother to reply. No sense beating her head against a wall, and Ida’s head was pure stone. It would take an act of God to change her opinions and Lila didn’t consider herself in that category.

  “So it was just a business dinner?” Bea asked, looking disappointed.

  “That’s what it sounded like. He did hold her hand a spell though. They acted real conscious of each other, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, it’s so romantic,” Emmaline sighed.

  “It’s so dangerous,” Miss Ida commented. “Y’all are forgetting Wayland.”

  There was a short silence, broken only by Shelitha starting the washing machine. Lila’s Cut and Shear ran through a lot of towels.

  “Wayland,” Brenda said soberly, all delight in discovering new romance gone. “He’s a sneaky devil, all right. You heard about Darryl up to the Carolina?”

  “Old news, Brenda,” Miss Lila replied for all of them. “Are you all thinking what I’m thinking? That Wayland put him up to it?”

  “For all the good it did him,” Brenda said. “You mark my words, he’ll be coming up with something else. It’s his nature. Damn weasel. I have to say I’ve felt for Sunny having to put up with him.”

  Everyone nodded in sympathy.

  The small bell over the street door tinkled. Heads turned to see who was coming in. Backs straightened and faces strove to appear innocent when Martha entered.

  “Hey, Martha, how you doing today?” Miss Lila asked with a smile. “You wanting the usual?”

  “Doing fine,” Martha replied. “What you all talking about today?”

  “Nothing.” Emmaline opened her magazine and began reading diligently. The other ladies seemed tied up in their own conversations and only Brenda grinned back at her.

  “Town’s as dead as George’s cow, and that’s pretty damn dead.” Brenda laughed.

  “You’re going to hell, young lady, for all that bad language you use,” Miss Ida commented, although not with any great feeling. She rose to her feet. “Reckon I better get going. What do I owe you, Lila?”

  “Same as you did last week,” Miss Lila said.

  “Well, I got some news.” Martha beamed. “Sunny finally went out. I been nagging her forever she needed to get out and have some fun, and she finally did it.”

  Miss Ida sat down again.

  “Come on in, Martha and tell us all about it,” she said, with what could only be called a grin.

  * * * *

  Up at the Crossroads, Cas ignored Sunny’s suggestion of a day of rest and plowed under what remained of the back garden. He wanted to get this finished, because tomorrow he planned on starting on the plant room she wanted.

  Sunny was out of town, making her monthly visit to Jim’s Aunt Ruth, the last of the true Douglases. She’d married and moved to Johnson City, and although widowed now, had never shown any inclination to move back to her roots. Sunny liked her a lot and it was no burden to her, she’d told Cas, to make the trip and spend the weekend. They had a lot of fun together.

  Cas missed Sunny, which was strange because in the course of their duties they never saw that much of each other. Just knowing she was gone gave him an empty feeling, and since she’d said she’d be back late Sunday night, it would probably be Monday before he saw her again.

  He smiled as he remembered their dinner. It had been obvious the whole diner was taking an interest and he could practically see their waitress’s ears growing. So he’d given her something to make it worth her effort. Sunny had said with resignation that he’d surely put the cat amongst the pigeons, the whole town would be buzzing and to watch himself, because it wouldn’t take long for Wayland to hear of it. Cas had been feeling too lighthearted to worry about Wayland.

  He maneuvered the small tractor to begin another row. The smell of freshly turned earth surrounded him; birds of several species followed behind him dining on the delicacies the plow turned up. He was everyman, working his living with his own hands. He could feel the contentment rising inside him.

  And soon Sunny would be home again.

  Chapter 13

  Cas gave himself the indulgence of a lie in that Sunday morning, sleeping late enough that he once again put together a makeshift breakfast in his kitchen. It wasn’t nearly up to Reese’s standards, but it filled his belly and anyway, the breakfast shift was over up at the Inn.

  He was in no hurry. In his own way, he was taking a day of rest; puttering in the proposed conservatory would be relaxing after the battles he had fought with the mountain wilderness. After the garden had been plowed under, he had disked until the soil looked like the finest brown sand. At one corner was a truly astonishing pile of rocks, laboriously pulled from the earth one by one and set aside to be used later for a rock garden.

  Up at Jake’s Hill, the front of the old house was vine free. He had told Sunny there wasn’t much more he could do to the outside of the house itself, but he was eager to get started on the inside, already planning to refinish floors and upgrade as best he could the antiquated kitchen. Sunny still insisted the inn came first and he didn’t know when he would get back to the homeplace. The inn took up a lot of his time.

  He stripped the top sheet off his bed, bundled it and some towels in the middle of the bottom sheet, then tied them together in what looked like a huge knapsack. Since he wasn’t planning on hard, sweaty work, he wore his new jeans and a short sleeved white shirt–a little rumpled, but who would be seeing him? The soft cotton felt cool against his skin as he tucked it in and wished he had a belt. Feeling virtuous, he washed his few dishes and set them to drain dry. Then he fought with his hair, finally gave up in disgust and let it fly about as it would.

  He stepped outside his front door, laundry bundle in hand, to the warm brightness of a perfect mountain day. There was not a cloud in the brilliant blue sky; the air had a crispness to it that he was sure wouldn’t be found in the lowlands. He took in a deep breath and felt at peace, at one with his surroundings.

  It didn’t last long.

  “Cas. Cas Martin.” A familiar voice broke the silence.

  “Morning, Martha,” he said with resignation. “You managed to sneak up on me.”

  “We coasted,” Martha declared, with a hint of a laugh in her voice. “Didn’t want you sneaking out the back door on us.”

  She climbed out of the car and minced over to him, her high heels sinking into the thick layer of pine straw that spread naturally around the cottage. “Drat these shoes! You should put down a walkway for your Sunday visitors.”

  “Don’t usually have that many, Martha. You’re the first. Morning, Jon,” he called to Martha’s husband, who remained behind the wheel as if divorcing himself from his wife’s plans. Jon nodded and flicked a finger at him.

  “What can I do for you, Martha?”

  “You can put down that bundle of dirty linen, and climb in the car and come to church with us.”

  Cas felt his face freeze. “No, I thank you, but I’ll have to say no. I have plans today.”

  “I’m sure you do. You work like there’s no tomorrow, but darlin’, your soul needs a day of rest and church is just the place to be getting it. Besides,” she added practically, “it’s a good way to meet everybody and let them get to know you. Wayland’s been running his mouth and that Darryl too. You need to take some countermeasures, honey. Let the town see you’re an upstanding citizen.”

  “I don’t need to go inside any church to prove that. No.”

  Martha looked distressed, her eyes filling with tears. “I only want what’s best for you, darlin’, I promise. I had it all planned. I can’t stand that they won’t see you–know you as I do, as all of us at the inn do. I was counting on you coming. I had it all planned, who I’d introduce you to, and sweetheart, it just might do you some good.”

  “I don’t have the right clothes,” Cas said desperately. “Martha, don’t cry!”

  “I can’t help it. I know you’re troubled and I just think that being wi
th folk who’d understand and sympathize and help you…well, I reckon you know yourself best. But this is Nevis, not New York City. You don’t need to dress fancy to go in the Lord’s house.”

  “But would the Lord want me there?” Cas muttered, not meaning to be heard.

  “You hush your mouth, young man. Such talk. Were you brought up a heathen? Of course He wants you there.”

  “I don’t think I was brought up at all, Martha.”

  “Then it’s time you learned, Cas,” She rested a hand on his arm. “Come with us. Let us try to help as best we can. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  Cas stood staring down at the river. What would it hurt, just this once? It would make Martha, who had been so kind to him, who seemed to understand him without having to have every i dotted and every t crossed, happy.

  “All right,” he finally said. “For you, I’ll do it for you. Because I love you and you won’t leave your husband and run off with me and I have to show my love somehow.”

  She laughed up at him. “You are a pistol ball, you are. But if Jon ever had to worry about a man, it’d be you, darlin’.”

  “You’re looking very pretty today,” Cas commented as they walked toward the car. He’d thrown his laundry into the house, meticulously locking the door behind him.

  Her cheeks flushed as pink as the rose on her hat. “Why, thank you, honey, one of my going to church outfits.”

  Her dress was of some light pink material, full skirted and belted at the waist. Perched on the tight waves of her hair was a small hat with one large, fake rose waving gently as her head moved.

  “Is that thing a hat?” Cas teased.

  “It’s about all I can tolerate anymore,” Martha admitted. “I don’t know how they managed with all those fancy clothes back in the day, not in this heat. Now quit insulting my hat and get in beside Jon.”