by Anita Higman
When the two of them had gotten settled with mugs of hot cider, Franny said, “Now, please, tell me, what’s on your mind?”
Noma took a sip of the cider. “After I left the diner, well, I got fired from one of my cleaning jobs.”
“Oh no. What happened?”
Noma gathered her hands into a knot. “Well, the lady who let me go, Miss Alice, she got it into her head…as awful as it sounds…that I was after her man. Her husband was almost old enough to be my daddy, so I don’t know how she could get a thing like that stuck in her head. But facts don’t matter much to Miss Alice once she gets going. Mm–mm–mm.”
“How could she accuse you of such a terrible thing?”
“Well, those words came pretty easy to her. Rolled right off her tongue.”
“But where was her proof?”
Noma sighed. “Miss Alice’s husband don’t stay at home much, and when he does come home, he’s usually tipsy. And yesterday he came home drunker than a saloon skunk. I tell you, it was a sight to see him staggering and stumbling about, knocking things over. Expensive vases and knickknacks and such. Anyway, I was upstairs dusting, not making any noise. Miss Alice doesn’t approve of me singing or humming while I work, so I was quiet. But I was also keeping an eye on her husband, just to make sure no harm came to him. Then I saw him teetering at the top of them stairs. He was about to fall down a long flight of steps. He woulda surely broken his neck. Just before he fell I grabbed his arm, just to steady him. That’s all I did.”
Noma shook her head. “That’s all I did. But it’s not what Miss Alice claims. She says I was encouraging him to…well, I will not fill the air with her words. They’re lewd, and they’re a lie before the Almighty.”
“But what did her husband say? Did he take up for you at all?”
Noma cupped her fingers around the mug as if trying to take in its warmth. “Miss Alice’s husband, he said nothing in my defense. He just went on to bed to sleep off the whiskey.”
“That is so malicious.” Franny’s eyes stung with mist. “But you still have your other cleaning jobs, right?”
“I still had enough work, but all the other ladies are friends with Miss Alice, you see, and when she told them…well, they believed her. And so, that was the end of me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“They all fired you without even letting you defend yourself?” Franny moved her mug away, but she really wanted to throw it against the wall.
Noma nodded. “I begged them not to let me go. I said I’d clean their houses for half the money. I thought they’d have mercy on me since Christmas was coming and all. But they said if I showed up for work again, they’d call the police.”
“Surely there’s something we can do about this.” God, why does life have to be riddled with so many injustices?
Noma touched one of the little printed flowers on the sleeve of her dress. “It was enough that you were here to listen to my story. To be believed and understood…well, that means more to me than money.”
“I know what you mean. To be believed is meaningful and necessary. But I’d still like to do something. They should be forced to do what is right.” Franny tugged on her apron until the well-worn fabric tore. “It’s so hateful, what they did.”
“Justice is always gratifying. Yes. But it would be hard to stay in a place where you know you’re not wanted. Folks like to feel welcome.”
“Oh, I agree. I do.” Piece by piece Franny put a workable plan together in her mind. “I know a place you would be very welcome: here on this farm.” She knew it was no longer her farm, and yet she knew Charlie’s mind well enough to know that he would want Noma to stay until she could get a job.
Noma looked at Franny, her eyes watering. “Your charity, your generosity, is appreciated, but I can’t accept it. I could only consider staying under one condition, which is what I came to ask you both. I thought since you had a farm to run, maybe you needed someone to cook and clean for you. And maybe help with the chores. I don’t need much money, only a little food and a place to rest my head. I could be happy just to be around folks who make me feel like I’m human.”
“Actually,” Charlie said as he opened the screen door, “that sounds doable.” He held up his hand. “I promise I just heard the last part. I know you’re in some kind of need, but whatever it is, I think we’re in need of you more.” He sat down at the table. “Franny and I would like to hire you with full pay. It’s the only way we’d agree to your idea.”
Franny gave him a rosy smile.
“I’m going to be buying a small business in town,” Charlie said, “and we’re going to need some extra help with the workload out here.”
“Yes, that could work very well.” Franny clapped her hands together.
They both looked at Noma, who seemed surprised at what Charlie had said. Then she smiled up at the heavens and nodded at them both. “Thank you.” Her eyes shone with tears. “Such good news today.”
“I’m glad.” Charlie stuffed his hands into the pockets of his overalls, looking quite happy. “Glad it’s all settled, then.”
“And I have a nice place for you to sleep,” Franny said. “I’m in the back bedroom, and Charlie sleeps in a little apartment above the tool-shed. So you may have my parents’ old bedroom.”
Noma drooped a bit. “I’m sorry to start out so contrary, but I don’t feel it’s right, taking your parents’ room. Do you have another place for me? I don’t need much.”
“Well, there is a small bedroom in the attic, but it’s not really fixed up very well, and—”
“That would do me just fine.”
“All right.” Franny reached out to Noma and squeezed her hand. “But the minute you change your mind, you’re welcome to the other room.”
“Thanks be to God. He’s given me a place to work.” Noma rose, picking up the mugs from the table.
“And a place to call home,” Franny finished. “But what about your house? Who will watch over it?”
“That wasn’t my home to keep,” Noma said. “I just rented it from my sister, so now she’s going back to live there. And it was her furniture too. All I own is in that bag. And in my pockets.” Noma pulled out the tiny wooden manger scene from her coat pocket and set it on the table. “Over the years, I’ve found that what God sees fit to give me is always plenty.”
Franny had never traveled through life as humbly as Noma had. She wondered what Noma’s life had been like—finding blessing in simplicity and giving in the midst of shortage. And how must Charlie view Noma’s life—was her poverty impossible to imagine from his affluent upbringing?
Henry whimpered from the porch and then barked, stealing Franny from her thoughts. “Henry carries on like that when he hears somebody pulling up in the yard.”
Charlie got up from the table and went out through the screen door.
Franny and Noma followed him onto the porch.
“What in the world…?” Charlie said.
“Who is it?” Franny asked. “Do you recognize the car?” Whoever it was, the person drove a very expensive vehicle.
“It’s my father. He’s come to check up on me.”
Franny’s mouth went dry as face powder.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Charlie didn’t want to wait for his father to come to the door, so he grabbed his coat and headed out to meet him. Franny and Noma followed close behind.
Charlie went around the driver’s side of his father’s Bentley and opened the door for him. “Father?”
“Son?” He tapped his finger on the steering wheel and then got out of the vehicle.
“To what may we attribute your visit, sir?” What was his father doing here? Couldn’t he trust his grown son to run a business even for a few weeks before the inquisition?
“I’ve come to visit my farm.” His father picked up a leather folder off the seat and then smoothed his camel-hair coat. “I wanted to see what you were really up to out here.”
Franny, her usual
gracious self, made the introductions with Noma, and to his father’s credit, he didn’t create any embarrassing moments when Franny introduced Noma as a friend and not as a cook.
“Did you want us to give you a tour?” Charlie finally said to him, although there was little need to ask since his father already scrutinized the terrain with a skeptical eye.
“Yes, and I have a few questions about the operation.” His father tapped his finger on the folder. “I have some ideas for improvements and expansion. It’ll be a lot more work for you, of course, but you’re up for it. Aren’t you, son?”
Sooner or later his father would have to be told about their plans to buy the music shop. Maybe now was as good a time as any. “Well, it’s good that you brought it up, since—”
“I would love to help show you the farm,” Franny said to Mr. Landau, “but I’m sure Charlie would like to spend some time alone with you. I need to get Noma settled in the house. Please excuse us.”
Charlie knew what Franny was up to. He’d have to thank her later. It might, indeed, be better to break the news about the music shop to his father in a more intimate way. The news would still work like gunpowder when he blew, but at least the firework exhibition would be in private.
Mr. Landau nodded to her. “Thank you, Francine.”
Once they were alone, his father didn’t say anything more. He merely marched toward the barn. At least what remained of the barn after the inferno—inferno being his father’s word. Why did he always have to go for the jugular vein? “Wouldn’t you like to change into something a little more appropriate? It’s kind of dusty out here, and you never know when you’re going to step into something…foul. I warn you, it’s a mess that’s hard to clean up.”
He shot Charlie a frown. “I’m fine.” He gave the bottom of his suit vest a jerk to straighten it. Something he did every hour on the hour. Charlie could set his watch by it.
“Are you angry about something?” Charlie asked.
“No.” His father kept walking toward the blackened mess like a pointer to its covey.
The birthmark on his father’s cheek appeared fiery, which was always a barometer of his mood, but Charlie had learned from childhood not to mention the birthmark. Ever.
They both stopped in front of the molten disaster.
His father stood there, stroking his beard. “Have you called the insurance agent?”
“Yes. It’s all been taken care of, Father. It was an old barn, and we’ll get a new one. No one is upset. Franny thinks it’s a blessing.”
“She no longer owns the farm, so I don’t see how her opinion is necessary.” His father seemed to study him. “How necessary has her opinion become to you?”
“Quite.” He wanted to tell his father about his plans to marry her, but he hated to light too much dynamite all at once. They’d be blown to kingdom come.
“Oh? I see. Well, she’s a woman with grit. I’ll give her that.”
Generous of you, Father.
“She is like a rag doll, though…too rough around the edges for decent society, especially in those dime-store dresses of hers, but maybe that can be fixed with some serious—”
“Fixed?” Charlie kicked at a rock he saw stuck in the ground. Instead of loosening it, he stubbed his toe. “There isn’t a thing in the world I would change about Franny.”
“That infatuated, are you? Hmm. I’m glad she doesn’t mind hard work. She’ll be a good helper in this expansion. I’ve been thinking about the fields in particular. Some of the ones that aren’t suited for growing wheat could be used for a large hog farm. A piggery with hundreds of animals.” He opened the leather folder. “Then when the operation is in full swing and making money, we can sell the farm and you can finally come to work for me. I’ve been putting this off for too long, so with these new plans we can speed things up a bit and move forward with our ultimate goal.”
Charlie placed his fingers on his closed eyelids. He felt a headache coming on. A big one. He’d need some aspirin this time. “I have to tell you something. It’s—”
“As far as Franny is concerned, when the time comes for you to sell, maybe she’ll be tired of the farm…and, well, of you too. Then she won’t be a problem. You’ll both be able to make a fresh start all around.” He snapped his folder shut as if that were the end of the discussion.
Charlie tried to remain calm, but it was getting harder by the second. Instead of inflaming the situation with wrath-filled words, his fingernails ground into his palms. He didn’t know where to start with his father. There was too much wrong with everything that came out of his mouth. God give me patience. I want to honor him, but I can no longer let him rule me.
“Well, say something.”
Charlie stuffed his fists into the pockets of his overalls. “I’m staying in the apartment over the toolshed…but not for long.” He wasn’t quite sure why he’d said the words, but it felt right to do so.
“I know you mentioned that when you were at home. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. You should be in the main house and the hired help should be in the apartment. But what does this have to do with anything I’ve just told you?”
Charlie looked at his father, eye to eye. “My life out here started with a certain plan in mind.” Your plan. “But Franny has changed everything. She’s—”
“Upp.” He raised his index finger. “I realize she’s another one of your girlfriends, but—”
“No, I wouldn’t put it that way.” He straightened his shoulders, knowing he was about to put gasoline on the fire. “Someday I will be moving into the house, but it’s not for the reason you mentioned. If she’ll have me…Franny will be my wife.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
His father’s birthmark brightened. “You’ve come out here and you’ve been mesmerized by this woman. I can see it.”
“I thought you liked Franny.”
“She’s an interesting woman. But we all know interesting women, and we like spending time with them. And eating dinner with them. But it doesn’t mean we have to marry them.”
“I’ve never met anyone like her. Sometimes she’s just Franny, guileless and simple with a heart as big as the moon, and then sometimes she has these spirited moments when she seems almost bigger than life—as if she were, I don’t know, an American icon.”
His father slapped his hand on the folder. “That is the most irrational gibberish I’ve ever heard. She really has you spellbound, doesn’t she?”
“You’re listening, but you never hear me, Father.” Charlie picked up a rock and threw it at a window on the barn. It was the sole remaining windowpane on the last standing wall. The sharp sound of it crashing through the glass felt unexpectedly painful, as if the stone had hit him instead of the barn.
“Perhaps I should remind you that you two are from very different upbringings, different educations, different families, and—”
“Is that why you invited Sylvie to dinner? To distract me from what is different?”
His father made no reply, so that left him with only one correct answer.
“And now that I’m thinking about it, you were probably the one who planted that clock in Franny’s closet the night we all had dinner. You know, the clock that was ready to break when she touched it. You wanted to set her up. Make her look bad. I hope you hadn’t planned on bringing it up while you’re here, because—”
“Look, no matter what you think you see, Francine Martin is just a—”
“She’s just what…a farmer? I was hoping you weren’t going to say that. Farming is hard work and a very honorable profession. She’s smarter than most men I know, and yes, we have different families, but after hearing about Franny’s father and mother I feel a great loss in my life that I didn’t get a chance to meet them. To know them. I’m sure my life would have been richer for knowing them, and I mean richer in the nonmonetary sense.”
“I know what you meant. You don’t have to belabor it.”
Charlie glanced over the debr
is and noticed an old dartboard; it was charred almost beyond recognition. He could just imagine Franny playing the game with her father. They’d been so close. She’d been so fortunate.
“I’d like to see the rest of the farm now.”
“All right.” He knew his father well enough to know the real reason he’d changed the subject: he’d already dismissed the idea of Charlie marrying Franny. Charlie sighed, feeling old for the first time in his life. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Maybe she could win him over. If anyone could, it would be Franny.
“All right. I will.”
“Good.” Charlie nodded.
His father walked off in the direction of the farrowing house. “Then I can tell you both about my expansion plans for the farm.”
Charlie thought he’d wait for dinner to tell his father about the music store. Of course, it meant the meal would be like an undigested bomb in his stomach. He would take no joy in Franny’s cooking tonight.
“By the way, you’ll need to get the barn up soon,” his father said. “I’ll crack the whip with the insurance company—”
“No need for any whips. It’ll be fine.” Charlie would need to change the subject yet again. “Let me give you the rest of the tour.”
They walked around the farm, father and son, side by side, talking about farming issues…and from a distance they might have even looked like a good family team. But in spirit, the chasm between them was big enough to consume the entire farm. Charlie dug his fingernails into his palms. God, I no longer know how to fix this great crack in our relationship.
“I see you’ve hired yourself a cook.”
Charlie kept up with his father’s fast-paced stride. “What?”
“That colored woman.”
“That woman you’re referring to is Miss Noma Jefferson, and she’s a friend of Franny’s and soon to be a friend of mine. She was going to be our guest for a while, but she insisted on helping out. And she needed a job.”
