Rain

by Michael Mcdowel

  “Sister,” said Lilah, “I cain’t believe it. I’m gone ask Miriam.”

  “If you do, she’ll deny it. She won’t give me the satisfaction of saying I was right. But one of these days you’re gone walk in from the school, and your Daddy is gone say, ‘Lilah, honey, Miriam and I have just run off and gotten ourselves married.’ You see if he doesn’t.”

  “I still don’t think so.”

  “Don’t you want those earrings?” Sister flicked a bony finger against the bob on Lilah’s left ear. Lilah winced.

  “Yes, ma’am. Course I do.”

  “If Miriam becomes your mama, you’ll get those when she dies. You’ll be heiress to a fortune in gems.”

  Lilah looked very doubtful about Sister’s predictions. Miriam called out again.

  “I got to go,” said Lilah, pulling away.

  Sister smiled knowingly and let go of Lilah’s arm. Lilah ran out of the room. Miriam waited in the hallway and snatched the bobs from Lilah’s ears and dropped them into her pocket. “Elinor’s gone kill us,” she said to Lilah, “so let’s get a move on.”

  In Perdido’s opinion, Billy Bronze had insufficiently mourned the death of his wife. Frances Caskey drowned in the Perdido one stormy night in the spring of 1956. Billy had been away at the time. Desultorily, the Perdido was dragged, above and below the junction, but Frances’s body was not recovered. Elinor had told Billy of her daughter Frances’s death: “She went out, Billy, the way she always did. But this time she just didn’t come back.”

  Billy said, “It certainly wasn’t like Frances to go off and drown herself. I never knew anybody who could swim better than she could. It stormed that night, you said. Maybe she got hit by lightning.”

  Billy’s grief was quiet. He went to work as usual, his routines were unaltered, his appetite was unaffected, he never seemed distracted at odd moments. He slept alone at night now, and that seemed the main difference in his life. Perdido saw this apparent unfeelingness in Billy, and thought ill of him for it. Yet the Caskeys stood up for Billy. With a quiet word or two here and there, Elinor and Queenie reminded the town just how distant Frances had been in the last few years of her life, how she had begun to ignore both husband and daughter, how she had seemed to care for nothing but the river.

  Billy, though he may have been alienated from his wife, certainly remained on good terms with the rest of the family. That relationship was unchanged by his wife’s death. He remained in the house with his mother- and father-in-law, Elinor and Oscar, and gave no thought to moving anywhere else. When Oscar pointed out that some trouble might arise from the problem of Frances’s body never having been found, Billy only asked, “What sort of trouble?”

  “Well,” said Oscar uncomfortably, “in case you wanted to get married again…”

  “Married!” laughed Billy. “Who on earth am I supposed to get married to, Oscar?”

  “I don’t know,” said Oscar, “but there might be somebody, someday. I don’t see it, I admit, but it might come about. Someday.”

  Billy laughed again. “Elinor wouldn’t let me.” And he shrugged an intelligible shrug, signifying, and I wouldn’t want her to, either.

  Billy’s relationship with Miriam in these first two years of his widowerhood was the same as it always had been. They were as friendly, as intimate, and as businesslike as ever. It had never occurred to anyone, until it occurred to Sister, that there might be the possibility of a marriage between Billy Bronze and his sister-in-law. Lilah had no strong feelings about what the consequences of such a union might be, but had vague thoughts that they might be bad. So she went to her grandmother, and said, “Is Daddy gone marry Miriam? And if he marries her, does that mean I automatically get her jewels when she dies?”

  “Where on earth did you get such an idea?” Elinor asked her granddaughter.

  “From Sister. Sister says it’s just a matter of time before Daddy and Miriam run off together. Are they gone live over here, or are they gone live next door?”

  Elinor said, “I don’t want to hear another word about this. It’s not polite.”

  “Not polite?” asked Lilah, bewildered.

  “Not polite,” Elinor repeated, and for a time that was an end to the question for Lilah.

  But not for Elinor. Elinor went to Oscar, and asked, “Have you heard anything about Billy marrying Miriam?”

  Oscar hadn’t heard of it. Neither had Queenie, or Lucille, or Grace, or Zaddie, or Ivey. Elinor called on Sister, and said, “Where did you get such an idea, Sister?”

  Sister leaned importantly back on her pillows, and said with an air of mystery, “I know what I know…”

  “Oscar,” said Elinor, unsatisfied, “talk to Miriam. You’re the only one in this family she’ll listen to.”

  “What difference does it make whether Billy marries Miriam or not?” Oscar asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Elinor conceded, “but we ought to see if we can find out one way or the other.”

  That evening, then, at the dinner table, while Zad-die was clearing before dessert, Oscar cleared his throat, and said, “Miriam, can I ask you a question without your jumping down my throat?”

  “I don’t know,” said Miriam, not one to be trapped as easily as that. “Maybe. Maybe not. What’s the question?”

  “Well…” said Oscar hesitantly, “maybe I should ask Billy instead.”

  Billy glanced at Oscar, then at Miriam, and said, “Ask me, sure. I won’t get mad.”

  “I’ll ask both of you, then,” said Oscar, then hesitated. Zaddie stood in the doorway, stacks of dishes piled high in both hands.

  “Get on, Mr. Oscar,” Zaddie said, ” ‘fore I break every one of these plates.”

  “We’ve been wondering…”

  “Who’s been wondering?” asked Miriam.

  “All of us,” blurted Malcolm, and blushed.

  “Wondering what?” said Billy.

  “Wondering if the two of you were planning on running off and getting married.”

  Billy and Miriam looked at each other in amazement.

  “Y’all have been sitting around the house thinking about that?” said Miriam after a few moments of stunned silence.

  “Miriam and me?” croaked Billy.

  “Sister said it,” cried Queenie.

  “Sister,” said Miriam sharply, “has forgotten that there is another world down at the other end of that hallway.”

  “Then you’re not?” asked Lilah.

  “Of course not,” said Miriam. “That’s the biggest piece of foolishness I have ever heard. Why on earth would I want to marry Billy?”

  “Well, you’re together all the time,” said Queenie. “And Billy’s lonely and sad without Frances. You’re always making trips together anyway, so you might as well be married. Billy wouldn’t marry anybody except a Caskey, and you wouldn’t take the trouble to go after some man that was a stranger to you.”

  “Those are Sister’s ideas,” said Elinor.

  “Well, they are completely wrong,” said Miriam. “I cain’t speak for Billy—”

  “Yes, you can,” said Billy quickly.

  “—but we have never even thought of getting married, and we’re not about to get married now.”

  “I miss Frances,” said Billy, “but I’ve got Lilah here to keep me company. I don’t need another wife. And I wouldn’t think of bringing some woman here y’all didn’t know anything about.”

  “Wouldn’t have her anyway,” snapped Elinor.

  “I know that,” said Billy, “and I’m not about to give y’all up just to have somebody to keep my feet warm at night.”

  So yet another of Sister’s analyses was shattered, and the family was relieved. They weren’t even quite sure why they were relieved, but they were. Zaddie took the dishes out, brought coffee, more plates, more forks, and then came in with a blackberry pie that was hot out of the oven; there was peach ice cream on the side.

  Elinor poured coffee and passed it around. They talked of other things
now, but Miriam was still and silent. She turned her cup around and around in its saucer and looked moodily about the room. Finally, when the conversation flagged for a moment, she glanced up and remarked, “Besides, you know, Billy and I couldn’t get married.”

  “Why not?” said Queenie, whose most fervent purpose in life was to keep conversations going. “Because Frances hasn’t been declared legally dead yet?”

  “No,” said Miriam. “Because I’m already engaged.”

  CHAPTER 73

  Put It Off

  Miriam looked around the table. “Well,” she said after a moment, “isn’t anybody going to bother to ask me who it is? I don’t go off and get married every day, you know.”

  Everyone at the table was dumbfounded. If it wasn’t Billy, then who on earth was Miriam going to wed?

  “Who?” said Queenie at last. “Miriam, we are so happy for you, whoever it is, but…”

  “But what?” said Miriam.

  “But we had no idea,” said Oscar.

  Miriam shrugged. “Neither did I. I just decided. This minute. Y’all want me to get married so bad, guess I’ll have to get married.”

  “Have you told the man?” asked Elinor.

  “Not yet,” said Miriam. “Maybe I ought to do that right now.” She looked directly across the table at Malcolm, who had been silent and wide-eyed through all this, and said, “Malcolm, I accept your proposal.” Then she turned her gaze first to Queenie on one side of Malcolm, and then to Elinor at the head of the table. “Which one of y’all wants to arrange the wedding?”

  Queenie grabbed her son’s arm beneath the tablecloth. “Malcolm!” she hissed. “What in the world do you mean by asking Miriam to marry you?”

  “He is marrying me for my money, Queenie,” said Miriam, unperturbed. “And because I tell him what to do. And ‘cause he loves me, I guess. Malcolm needs somebody to keep him in line, and you’re not always gone be around. You’re an old woman, Queenie.”

  “I know that,” returned Queenie. “But why are you accepting?”

  “Because I probably should get married,” said Miriam. “And because Malcolm is right here asking, and because y’all know that I am not about to put up with somebody who’s gone cause me one ounce of trouble. And Malcolm,” Miriam went on, eyeing her new fiance across the table, “you are gone continue to do just what I tell you to, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Malcolm with a somewhat overenthusiastic grin. “Mama, you are pinching me!”

  Queenie let go of her son’s arm.

  “Queenie and I will take care of the wedding together,” Elinor announced gravely. “Miriam, I think you’ve made a wise choice. We don’t need any outsiders in this family.” As she said this, she placed her hand gently over Billy Bronze’s at her side, as if to reassure him that she did not think of him in that light.

  Lilah, who sat next to her father on the other side, looked up at him and whispered, “Daddy, are you disappointed?” She didn’t mean for anyone else at the table to hear her question, but they all did.

  Billy laughed and put his arm around Lilah. “Lord, no!” he exclaimed. “I’ve got Miriam on my back enough as it is! You think I want to live with her? Malcolm, you’re going to have a rough row to hoe!”

  Malcolm only grinned. “I’m gone be forty next month. Miriam’s gone be thirty-seven in the spring. ‘Bout time we settled down.”

  “Almost too late to have children,” sighed Queenie. “I was hoping for another little grandchild. But, Miriam, if you got started quick—”

  “Queenie, you shut up about children,” said Miriam. “I see one of those things in my house, I’m gone be using its head for a pincushion. Malcolm, don’t you let Queenie put any ideas in your head about giving her grandchildren, because nobody is going to force me into a maternity wardrobe.”

  “Malcolm,” asked Oscar, “where do you and Miriam intend on living?”

  “Oscar, don’t start asking me questions about all this. I just now found out about it myself. You want information, you ask Miriam. Miriam,” he said diffidently, “you thought about where you want us to live?”

  “I don’t know,” said Miriam. “Sister doesn’t have a very high opinion of you, and I don’t know how she’d take you moving in over there. And your mama wouldn’t particularly care to have me underfoot.” Here Queenie began a protest, but Miriam cut her off. “Don’t bother to say anything sweet, Queenie, ‘cause nobody at this table would believe it.”

  “I wasn’t gone ask you to come live with me, Miriam. I was just gone ask you if you had spoken to Sister about any of this?”

  “I have not,” said Miriam. She pushed back her chair. “So I guess I better do that right now. Tell Zaddie to keep some coffee warm. I don’t know how soon I’ll be back.”

  Sister didn’t like it one little bit. Miriam sat in a straight-backed chair by the door and fiddled with the dial on the radio, though she didn’t turn on the set. Sister railed.

  “I thought you were gone marry Billy!” cried Sister. “Billy’s a man! Malcolm Strickland is no good, and has been no good since the day Queenie Strickland set foot in Perdido. I first saw Malcolm at Ge-nevieve’s funeral, and I said to Mama, ‘Mama, that child is gone come to no good.’ It was James and Dollie Faye Crawford kept that boy out of prison. It was you and Billy got him out from behind the counter of a barbecue joint in Mississippi. It has taken all the Caskeys together to keep that boy out of trouble for the past ten years.”

  “Malcolm’s not a boy anymore, Sister. Malcolm’s gone be forty years old next month.”

  “And what does he have to show for it?”

  “He doesn’t need anything to show for it. We’re all rich, and perfectly capable of taking care of him. He’s a lot of help around here, you know. He does lots of things that need doing. He keeps the roof in repair. He goes out and buys light bulbs. Why, he was in here last week, killing a bat that came down your chimney. You were glad enough to see him then.”

  “Oh, he’s fine when it comes to killing bats,” said Sister sarcastically, “But I don’t know that that’s much of a recommendation when it comes to marriage.”

  “I’ve met plenty of men who weren’t even that much use,” Miriam said. “At any rate, it doesn’t really matter to me what you’ve got to say about it, Sister, ‘cause I’ve made up my mind to marry Malcolm. And that’s what I’m gone do.”

  “When did he ask you?” said Sister after a moment. Curiosity had got the upper hand over displeasure.

  “Last week. Last month. Last year. Malcolm’s been asking me to marry him for ten years. Malcolm brings me my mail in the morning, and says, ‘Good morning, Miriam. Will you marry me?’”

  “They why did you all of a sudden say yes?”

  “Because I looked at my birth certificate the other day and I saw how old I was and I thought, It’s about time, Miriam. And one day, I walked in here, and I saw how old you were, Sister.”

  “How old I am!”

  Miriam nodded. “And I thought, Someday Sister’s gone die, and then I’m gone be left all alone.”

  This casual observation about her mortality shocked Sister into a horrified silence. When she finally spoke her voice was weak and she was not at all to the point. “Miriam, will you please keep your hands off that radio. You are driving me crazy.”

  Miriam dropped her hand from the dial and then continued, glancing out the window as she spoke. “I’ve never lived by myself. I got to thinking what it would be like to be in this house all by myself. And I don’t think I’d like it. I’d probably go crazy. And I’m much too busy to waste my time going crazy.”

  “So why didn’t you just wait till I was dead before you got married?” said Sister. “Then you wouldn’t have to deal with Malcolm until you had gotten me out of the way.”

  Miriam laughed. “Oh, Sister, you don’t bother me anymore. And neither does Malcolm.”

  “I don’t think I want Malcolm Strickland in this house,” said Sister. “His tread is t
oo heavy.”

  “Then we’ll move in next door with Queenie and leave you here alone.”

  “No!” shouted Sister, suddenly panicked. “Miriam, why don’t you put off the marriage for a little while?”

  “Till you’re dead?”

  “No,” answered Sister, calming a bit, “just till I’m used to the idea. Just for a little while, Miriam. I’m confined to this bed. It’s so hard for me to change. I cain’t even think of you getting married. You’re still my little girl.”

  Miriam turned from the window and smiled.

  “What are you laughing about?” demanded Sister.

  “At you. You’re trying to get me to put off my wedding, just like Grandmama tried to get you to put off your wedding to Early.”

  “Mama was right! See what a mess I made of it? If I had listened to Mama, I’d be a happy woman today! So you ought to listen to me, and put this wedding off. Just for a while. Just till you’ve thought about it some more.”

  “No,” said Miriam easily, walking toward the door. “I’ve made up my mind, and that is that.”

  And that was that. The ability the Caskeys had to astonish Perdido seemed inexhaustible. The announcement of the engagement of Malcolm Strickland and Miriam Caskey was a source of vast wonder in the town. Previously there had been two local theories when it came to the question of Miriam’s marriage. Half the town thought she would marry Billy Bronze, and the other halfcvas certain she would never marry at all. That she would marry Malcolm Strickland was a possibility that had occurred to no one. The only satisfactory explanation Perdido could come up with was that Malcolm had raped Miriam, and that she was pregnant.

  Miriam wasn’t a woman for long engagements. She announced that the wedding would take place two days after Christmas, a date she chose for the practical reason that her calendar was clear for the holiday and the few days on either side of it. “I have no intention,” Miriam told her mother, “of calling up people in Houston and New York to rearrange my appointments just because I’m getting married.”