Persuasion, Captain Wentworth and Cracklin' Cornbread

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  “Of course.” She stood up and followed him down the hallway into the last room. The young mom sat in a straight chair, the baby sleeping on her lap.

  “Kaniesha, this is Lucy Crawford. She’s helping out around here.”

  Kaniesha nodded, but didn’t say anything. It was clear that Kaniesha didn’t want her in the room, but since Jem had asked, she felt as if she should stay.

  “You said you needed to use the restroom. Lucy could hold Tina for you while I get the nebulizer set up.” He was unwrapping tubes and plugging in a machine while he talked. He clearly thought Kaniesha would jump at the chance.

  Lucy saw her debate the idea, chewing on her lower lip. “Fine,” she finally said. “If I didn’t have somebody kicking me in the bladder, I could wait a bit longer, but . . .” She scooted forward on the chair, lifting her arms.

  Slipping her hands under the little girl’s sleeping form, Lucy lifted her close and gently stepped away. Kaniesha stood up with a groan. “Oh, man. I never should have drank all that water. They tell you to drink eight glasses a day, but my eyeballs are floatin’ and I’m livin’ in the bathroom.”

  Lucy moved to the side so Kaniesha could pass, and she waddled from the room.

  “Go ahead and sit down. This will take just a moment,” Jem said, bending over a tiny canister and squeezing in clear liquid from a plastic packet. He attached a purple alligator mask to a large tube and gently slipped it over Tina’s head. She moved a little, but stayed asleep. Jem flipped a switch, and the low hum of the machine filled the office and white steam filled the mask.

  Lucy shifted in the chair, hoping the baby wouldn’t wake while her mom was in the bathroom. The mask would be scary enough, but a stranger might be much worse.

  Jem sat on the swivel stool and scooted toward the baby. He positioned his stethoscope in his ears and placed the flat piece against Tina’s chest.

  Lucy froze, surprised by how close he was. Their knees were almost touching, and Lucy was suddenly aware of every breath she took. She thought of how long ago she’d eaten lunch and hoped her stomach didn’t growl. She glanced up, noting how he’d never really been able to tame that cowlick in the front and how his dark blond hair grew every which way. His hands were so sure, so gentle. He lifted the baby’s shoulder and listened to her back. His head was bowed, just inches from Lucy’s. She could see where he’d shaved and the tiny scar over his right eyebrow where he was snagged by his cousin’s fishhook that last summer before college. He’d jokingly told everybody he’d been in a fight, but Lucy had known better. Jem wasn’t the fighting type.

  Lucy dropped her eyes to Tina’s little face. Her eyelashes were long and curled up to touch her lids. Lucy wondered if the baby’s father had long lashes, or if she’d inherited them from some other family member down the line. She touched the soft skin of the baby’s arm, marveling at the milk-chocolate color, the impossible smoothness.

  “Could you turn her a bit, so I can listen on the other side?” Jem asked. Lucy nodded and carefully maneuvered Tina to her other arm. Jem leaned close, listening.

  Lucy’s mama had said she was as dark as her daddy by the time she’d passed her first year. She wondered if her babies would be like her and her daddy, or like her mama and her sisters. Of course, it all depended on the father. Lucy’s heart contracted a bit at the thought. In her mind, the only man she could see fathering her children was Jem. Maybe they would have his height, or that smile that went up on one side, or his love of science.

  Jem scooted away to the desk to write down some notes, and Lucy wanted to kick herself. Jem wasn’t marrying her and wasn’t making babies with her. Some girls put a lot of thought into a future spouse, but Lucy had never been that girl. It was probably because Rebecca was getting married. Being in a wedding always made the women want to jump on the marriage train and start decorating a nursery. Lucy wanted to give her hormones a talk. She was young, not even thirty. There was plenty of time for marriage and babies.

  It was a remainder of former sentiment; it was an impulse of pure, though unacknowledged friendship; it was a proof of his own warm and amiable heart, which she could not contemplate without emotions so compounded of pleasure and pain, that she knew not which prevailed.

  —ANNE ELLIOT

  Chapter Eighteen

  Stroking the soft skin of the baby’s arm, Lucy admired the little ridge of baby fat above the wrist. A few lines started to run through her head, something she’d read that morning. She thought of Jem, his hands, how she’d gripped one of his at the presentation, how he’d held hers so gently a little while ago while he was singing a silly song about peanuts.

  “What are you thinking?” he said without turning his head.

  “I—nothing.” She couldn’t explain she was thinking of what color their babies would be and how she missed the touch of his hands.

  He turned around, a half smile on his face. “You sighed.”

  “I did?”

  “You won’t get sick. If you wash your hands very well and turn your head when she coughs, you can keep most colds from spreading.”

  “Oh, no.” Her face went hot. Did he think she was afraid of this baby’s germs? She felt privileged to be here, holding her. “I was thinking of a George Eliot quote.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Which one?”

  She opened her mouth and for a moment debated whether to tell the truth. She could say anything and he’d never know. But her mind had gone blank and she answered, “The one about friendship, about pouring out your heart.”

  He nodded and recited, “A friend is one to whom one may pour out the contents of one’s heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.”

  She nodded, reveling in the sound of his voice. Memories rushed back, of that summer when they would come out of the poetry slams unable to sleep, unable to stop talking to each other. And now a simple exchange felt too difficult.

  “What made you think of it? The line about chaff and grain together?” His tone was causal. “She said it so well. We’re all made up of chaff and grain.”

  Lucy stared down at Tina, at how her own dark fingers looked against the baby’s skin, how Jem’s light hands had seemed to fit in the picture. She was afraid to tell him because even though the thoughts weren’t hers, speaking the lines would make them hers.

  She took a deep breath. “Knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it.”

  She stopped, the air in the room thick with her meaning. She looked up, holding on to her bravery, and said, “Gentle hands. That part, you made me think of that part when you were examining her.”

  His blue eyes went a bit wider, then he looked down at Tina and said softly, “Thank you.”

  His goodness made her realize how weak she truly was. He was always kind, nothing but kind. And she was afraid to be seen with someone her aunt felt wasn’t good enough.

  He cleared his throat. “I was going to have a Fourth of July party. I would like it if you’d come.”

  Lucy blinked. “Where?” she asked, then was embarrassed by her bad manners. “I mean, yes, that would be fun. I’d like to go.”

  A smile spread over his face. “Good. One of my friends, Lars LeRoux, runs swamp tours down where the Sampit and Pee Dee meet, but he’s taking the weekend off to visit.” Jem paused. “I’m not big on parties, but we’re trying to get a friend of ours to be a little more social. Danny’s had a rough few months and I thought a little fun might cheer him up.”

  “What can I bring?”

  “I think he’ll have ribs from Shorty’s BBQ, but you can bring any kind of horrible vegetarian dish you can whip up out of the garden. We’ll all just suffer through it.”

  She snorted. “You’re on.” Paulette had mentioned some party, but Lucy had tuned her out. She usually watched the
fireworks from the back deck. Now Jem’s invitation had sparked a bright flame of hope inside.

  “I’d rather head down to Tombigbee and hang out at the lake for the weekend, but Lars thought this might be a good way to get Danny out of the house.” Jem’s smiled faded away. “I should tell you while I have the chance that Danny’s wife passed away from cancer last summer.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, wishing there were something better than that tired old phrase.

  Jem nodded. “He hasn’t been out, unless it’s to head out to the pond and go frog giggin’ late at night.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in the front. “I would never force someone to be more social than they want to be, but Danny used to be the party man. He loves people and is a classic extrovert. Lars said that Danny wants to ease back into the world, but he feels as if he’s lost touch with his friends.”

  “I think it’s great that you two are hosting the party for him, and I’d love to come.” She paused. “Although, I’m not much of a wild party person myself. I don’t know how much help I’ll be in bringing him out of his cave.”

  Jem laughed, and she loved the little lines around his eyes. “I know you’re not.”

  She opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She wanted to freeze this moment, when he smiled at her as if they were friends, planning a happy moment together.

  “Sorry about that,” Kaniesha said, bustling back into the room. “I saw my cousin Jaylene’s girls out there and I thought maybe they were sick.”

  She came close and Lucy transferred Tina’s little form back into her mother’s arms. Kaniesha settled into the chair and said, “And thanks.”

  “Anytime. You have a beautiful baby.”

  Her face softened. “She is. Takes after her daddy.” She pressed a gentle kiss to Tina’s forehead. “It makes me crazy when she’s sick. I’m so glad Dr. Chevy could get us right in. We used to wait for hours because they only had Dr. Stroud.”

  “Now we’ve got more room, too,” Jem said, head bent over the papers on his desk.

  “Right.” Kaniesha’s brows were drawn together. “I didn’t think it was such a good idea to move the clinic here. But it’s worked out fine.”

  “Is it much farther from where you live?” Lucy asked.

  “No.” And her answer hung in the air like an unfinished sentence. Finally she shrugged. “I ran into a Crawford girl once. I wasn’t much impressed.”

  Jem’s head went up and he frowned. “I’m sure it was a misunderstanding.”

  “Probably not.” Lucy sighed.

  Kaniesha shook her head. “Nope, no misunderstandin’. I was working at June Bug Boutique, unpacking the boxes in the back. She came in there, looking for some big vase she needed. I brought it out and . . .” Kaniesha sighed. “There was an extension cord on the carpet. I didn’t see it and lay myself flat out. I tumped that pretty vase right on the tile. Turned it into a hundred pieces.”

  Lucy grimaced. She could imagine what happened next. She didn’t have to know whether it was Paulette or Janessa. Neither of them was overwhelmingly sympathetic.

  “I figured that if she threw a fit, then they’d just order her another. But she needed it right then, and the only way she was gonna get some satisfaction was if Miss June fired me.” Kaniesha shrugged. “I don’t blame Miss June. She needed to keep her customers happy.”

  “I’m sorry that happened. Is there something I can do to help?”

  “Nah, that was a long time ago, before I left school. I got a different job now at Kenny’s Cafeteria. I would rather be unpacking pretty glass things, for sure, but I don’t mind it so much.”

  There was a tap at the door and Leticia poked her head inside. “Lucy, your aunt’s looking for you.”

  Jem stood up, holding the door open. “Thanks for your help.”

  Lucy had the feeling of being shooed away but she just smiled. “Welcome.”

  A few seconds later she spotted Aunt Olympia’s sullen face. She was standing in the far corner of the waiting room, clutching her little purse to her chest. “What are you doing in here?” she asked, loud enough to make everyone turn to look.

  “Come on in the kitchen,” Lucy said, pulling her toward the door.

  “You better wash your hands. I can’t eat anything you touch until you wash your hands. Those people probably have all sorts of diseases.” Aunt Olympia let herself be led toward the hallway.

  Sounds were coming from the kitchen and Lucy could smell something wonderful. “Hello, Mrs. Hardy,” she called as they came in. “Just getting Auntie some sweet tea.”

  “How you doin’, Miss Lucy?” Mrs. Hardy’s dark face shone with sweat but she smiled. “Makin’ your daddy’s favorite dish for dinner.”

  “Chicken-fried steak?” Lucy washed her hands at the sink, noting how much whiter it was when Mrs. Hardy cleaned it. She remembered how delicious chicken-fried steak was, especially with Mrs. Hardy’s special white gravy, but her mama’s early death had robbed Lucy’s ever wanting to eat it again.

  “Chicken casserole with green beans,” Mrs. Hardy said, pointing to a row of condensed-soup cans and a large container of sour cream. “I think he like the way I fry the crackers in a pan after I mash them up.”

  Lucy went to the fridge and pulled out the pitcher of tea, pouring it into two tall glasses. She argued back the part of her that wanted to remind Mrs. Hardy they were trying to eat healthy. Sour cream and fried crackers wasn’t the greatest base for a casserole.

  “I can see what you’re thinking,” Aunt Olympia said.

  “Oh?” Lucy had never learned how to keep her emotions wrapped up tight and they leaked out into her expressions.

  “You think we’re not feeding Willy right.” Aunt Olympia’s face was triumphant. “Tell her, Mrs. Hardy. Tell her what we had for lunch yesterday when she was at work.”

  “I made baked potatoes for Mr. Crawford and he enjoyed them real well.” Mrs. Hardy stirred the crackers in the pan and nodded. “Fresh-baked potatoes.”

  “With a little butter?” Lucy was going to have to eat crow if her daddy ate something like that and didn’t complain.

  “Not even any butter. I just hollowed out the potato mash, filled it with pulled pork and topped it with chow chow.”

  “See?” Aunt Olympia took a sip of her tea. “That has all the food groups. The bun was real soft for soppin’ up the sauce, too.”

  Lucy dropped into her chair. “Chow chow doesn’t really qualify as a vegetable. It’s a condiment.”

  “Of course it does. Cabbage, green tomatoes and peppers are all vegetables. We usually put potato chips on there, but this had a nice crunch to it, too.”

  “There ain’t nothin’ like a big, juicy pork butt rubbed with sugar and spices. Mmmm-hmmmm,” Mrs. Hardy added.

  “Look at that.” Aunt Olympia pointed a bright-red fingernail at the glass door that led to the deck.

  Lucy turned in time to see a group of kids circling Hattie, each reaching out to pet her fur.

  “Zeke fed her chitlins and I don’t think we can convince her to leave.” Lucy had to smile at the way the kids all wanted to pet her at the same time.

  “What? No, not the cat. I was lookin’ at that woman. Can you imagine? Who in their right mind has all those kids? No wonder she’s at the free clinic.” Aunt Olympia clucked her tongue. “And I hate that we can see them running up and down our steps.”

  “We could cover this door, I suppose.”

  “Then we wouldn’t have any view at all! Lucy, sometimes I don’t think you have a lick of sense.”

  She’d heard those words before but had shrugged them off. For the first time those words didn’t settle in as they should have. Lucy felt them drop one by one into her heart, and they didn’t fit.

  “I think I have more than a lick, Auntie.” She stood
up. “I’ve got to get back to the clinic. I’m volunteering there on Thursday afternoons.”

  Aunt Olympia’s mouth dropped open, but Lucy didn’t wait to hear what would come out next. She had somewhere to be.

  “You look the very opposite of relaxed,” Lars said. He had his feet propped up on the deck railing, a beer in his hand and a hat shading his face. “This is supposed to be fun.”

  “It is. I am.” Jem checked the BBQ ribs one more time. “Maybe I should have got some chili-slaw dogs from Shorty’s. Everybody loves those.”

  “Buddy,” Lars said, dropping his shoes to the deck with a thump, “sit yourself down and stop fussing. You’re reminding me of my aunt Glynna with all this temperature takin’ and foil tuckin’. This food is fine. As soon as the wife gets all her dishes out here, we’ll start eating.”

  Jem settled into one of the deck chairs and looked out onto the acre of land that Lars had reclaimed from the kudzu. Guests were wandering in and out of the kitchen area, introducing each other, greeting old friends. A few had walked to the end of the yard to look at the goats. Jem blew out a breath. He wanted everything to go right. It was just a barbecue party but he felt as if maybe it could be something more. If she came at all.

  “So, who’s got you all tied up in knots?”

  “Nobody.”

  Lars stared at him, eyes hidden behind his dark glasses.

  Jem let a few more seconds pass. “I invited a girl.”

  “No kidding.” Lars took a sip of beer and motioned with his other hand. “Angie was asking me where your girlfriend was.”

  “I don’t have one,” Jem said. Lars’s wife was plugged into the gossip. She probably had heard something about Regan and her habit of running her hands up his ribs when he couldn’t defend himself.

  “Sho-o-ore.” Lars made the word last several syllables longer than it needed to be. “And you wear nice shirts to every barbecue.”

  Jem smoothed the front of his shirt. “Nothing wrong with looking good. You should try it. I’m sure Angie would love it if you didn’t look like a river rat all the time.”