Katie's Dream

by Leisha Kelly

  Before we left, he promised Katie he’d try to find her grandmother. But he didn’t promise me anything at all. And he left me no choice but to take Katie back home with me. Of course, she was all right with that; but I wondered if it was really best for her. The closer she attached herself to me and to Julia, the harder it would be for her when the time came for her to go.

  I crossed the street, holding Katie’s hand again. It was getting sticky hot. Sweat had my shirt damp already, and I wished I had money in my pocket to buy the girl an ice cream and take something home to Julia and the rest.

  At least Julia wouldn’t be upset about me bringing the child back. She’d almost expected it. And I didn’t know how to insist on anything different.

  We were nearly to the truck when Hazel Sharpe and her nephew rounded the corner by the Feed and Seed, evidently on their way home from somewhere. I groaned inside, hoping they didn’t see us. Or at least didn’t pay us any attention.

  But Hazel headed straight in my direction just as fast as she could walk. I didn’t want to listen to her today. I didn’t want her putting one word in on all this.

  “Well, Mr. Wortham!” she was calling. “You with Barrett’s truck again! I declare you drive it more’n he does. Is he gettin’ rent?”

  “I help him when he needs it, Miss Sharpe,” I acknowledged with a sigh. “We have an agreement.”

  “Well, that’s neither here nor there,” she breezed on. “But I better tell you what Ella Cole says. Somewhere our pastor’s wife got the cockamamy notion that your Juli can start up a church choir. And she didn’t even come to me about it! Me, the piano player!”

  “I’m sure she consulted her husband, Miss Hazel.” I couldn’t help smiling a little at her ridiculous conceit. As if no one was supposed to do anything without consulting her first.

  She crossed her arms impatiently. “I want you to tell that wife a’ yours that our church ain’t had a choir for forty years, and if it ever has one again, they’ll have to have my help! There’s no sense her even startin’ otherwise. Loretta Crenshaw lef’ me in charge a’ the music when she was on her deathbed, and I’m the only one knows how to go about such a thing, anyhow.”

  “As far as I know, Juli knows nothing about this yet.”

  “That’s why I’m tellin’ you! Ain’t you listenin’? You tell her that when Juanita Jones comes around, she needs to come and talk to me. How they gonna have a choir without the piano player? I never heard a’ such a thing!”

  I smiled at her. “Are Pastor and Mrs. Jones at home? Maybe you need to discuss this with them yourself.”

  “If she don’t have the courtesy to come to me, I ain’t gonna darken their door!” Miss Hazel huffed. “It’s not my job to go runnin’ over there every time they don’t think somethin’ through! You just tell Juli to tell her she can’t be goin’ around steppin’ on toes like this. There’s got to be order in a church! When you got music already put in place, you don’t go shovin’ it aside to start up somethin’ else with somebody who don’t know what they’re doin’. An’ Juli don’t know what she’s doin’! She’s never led no choir, has she?”

  “No, ma’am. She hasn’t,” I said, trying to step past her toward the truck.

  “See what I mean? It’s the confoundest thing I ever heard! What is that Juanita thinkin’, anyhow?”

  I tipped my hat. “Miss Hazel, I really must be going. But I’ll tell my wife what you said.” I wondered what Juli would think. I could imagine a shrug of her shoulders, her quiet smile. She knew Miss Hazel better than I did, and handled her better than anybody I knew. Since Emma Graham, at least.

  “I hope you tell her. Don’t be forgettin’.” She stopped, suddenly staring down at Katie. “Now, look here. This ain’t George Hammond’s girl.”

  I winced inside. “No, ma’am—”

  “It ain’t your Sarah neither. I’d know her ’cause she looks like her mama. So who are you, child? Speak up! What’s your name?”

  Taken by surprise, Katie backed up a step, squeezing my hand. I didn’t blame her for being scared. This bent old lady was formidable, even for grown-ups. But the child managed to get her head together enough to whisper her name. “Katie. Katie Wortham.”

  “Wortham, you say?” Hazel’s head shot up. “What kin is she?” she demanded. “I never heard tell of this!”

  I wanted to tell her Katie was my brother’s, or just make something up and tell her anything. But I couldn’t lie. And just to say he brought her wouldn’t be enough. I sighed, thinking on how many people would hear about this now and the kind of twist Hazel Sharpe might put on my words. “Miss Hazel, I’m not sure if she’s kin. We’re hoping to find out.”

  “What kind of riddle is that? Wouldn’t you know if somebody’s kin? Normal folks would!”

  I could only sigh again. “We need to go.”

  But Hazel wouldn’t let me by so easily. “You’re hidin’ something! Sure as I’m alive!” She grabbed Katie’s arm, making the poor girl jump. “Who’s your daddy, girl? You can tell me. You must know who your people is. Who’s your daddy, girl?”

  Little Katie shook, and tears welled up in her eyes. She looked at me, and the tears started to fall. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know!” Miss Hazel exclaimed. “My, oh my! What do you mean—”

  “That’s enough!” I surprised myself, being that abrupt. But Miss Hazel had no business talking to a child that way. No matter what she’d think of me, I wouldn’t have it. I picked Katie up, out of Hazel’s grasp. “She’s staying with us for a while, until we find her family,” I explained. “That’s all there is to it. I’ll give my wife your message.”

  I set Katie in the truck, and Miss Hazel stood there and watched as I climbed in too. Herman gave me a sheepish sort of nod. I always wondered what he thought of his aunt’s ravings.

  “There’s something mighty strange about this,” Hazel declared.

  “Maybe so,” I told her. “But if a child came your way, you’d have to help her, wouldn’t you? That’s what we’re doing, and we’ll do our best.” I started the truck.

  “You’re a strange one, Sam Wortham.”

  I tipped my hat. “Have a good day.” Then I backed away from the curb and drove off. Julia always said the best way to handle Miss Hazel was to be as sweet as possible. I didn’t figure I’d been that, but at least she wouldn’t be able to say I wasn’t civil.

  I called my mother’s building from the telephone at Charlie Hunter’s service station. I didn’t know what to say about all this, only that I needed to ask her myself if she or Jimmy knew anything about Trudy Vale, and to let them know our sheriff might be asking too. I had to wait a long time while the gentleman downstairs went up to see if she was in. And when my mother finally came, she sounded awful. She said she didn’t know who I was talking about and it wasn’t right for me to give the sheriff their names. We didn’t talk long. We never did.

  Charlie didn’t charge me for the telephone call. The sun was getting high, but Katie wasn’t hungry and neither was I, so I traded Juli’s muffins with Charlie for a little gas. Maybe someday Barrett would tell Miss Hazel that I hadn’t brought his truck home empty.

  SEVEN

  Julia

  Sarah and I were snapping the beans for dinner when we heard the roar of an automobile coming up the road. Samuel, I hoped. I wasn’t expecting anybody else. But I looked up to see Edward’s roofless old car coming up our lane and nearly dropped the bean bowl. I should’ve listened to Samuel’s concerns. Now what was I to do?

  I stood as he parked his car across Emma’s golden irises. He jumped out, waving his hand as if I’d be thrilled to see him.

  “Samuel at home?”

  “No. But he’ll be home pretty soon.”

  He started in my direction. “I didn’t mean to cause you no trouble last night.”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t figure out why he’d come back. I would’ve thought he’d be glad just to move on once he’d gotten Katie to us
and had a chance to make Samuel uncomfortable.

  “Can you spare me something to drink? Gettin’ mighty parched on this dusty road.”

  I handed Sarah my bowl of green beans and told her to take them inside and stay. “I hope water from the well’s all right,” I said to him, heading toward the bucket and dipper.

  “Still don’t have no lemonade?” he asked with a smile.

  “No. Nor anything else, unless you want some strawberry leaf tea. Or coffee again, but we’re almost to the last of that.”

  “I never heard of strawberry leaf tea,” he said, coming closer. “That something you make yourself?”

  “Yes. You want some?” I didn’t want to refuse anyone a drink. It wouldn’t be right. But he was making me more and more uncomfortable, just looking at me, just walking in my direction. I wished Samuel were home, or even Robert or one of George’s big boys.

  “I’ll take the water, thanks,” he said. “Don’t know about that leaf stuff.” He laughed. “I ain’t used to such potions.”

  I hurried to the well, drew a bucket of fresh, cool water. He was at my side by the time I was done, and I handed him the brimming dipper.

  He drank the water down quickly and filled the dipper twice more. “Boy! That sure is good!” He poured one dipperful over his head, shook like a wet dog, and then laughed when I stepped back from his splatters. “You don’t know what to make of me, do you? Ah, Mrs. Wortham, I don’t know what Sammy told you, but I just love the simple things, sort of like yourself.”

  “Why did you come back?”

  “I needed a drink, just like I said. Don’t know anybody else around here.”

  “Anybody would give you a drink. That’s common decency. You could ask anywhere.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll have to admit—we’re family, you know. Never got a chance to know you before.”

  I started walking to the garden, thinking it best to show him I was busy.

  “How’s Katie getting along? Didn’t see her when I pulled in. Sammy didn’t go and give her up to no county people, did he?”

  I started pulling turnips, every other one to give the rest more growing space.

  “Must be hard for you, finding out the kind of thing your Sammy was up to.”

  That did it. I could abide his presence if I needed to. I could put up with a lot. But not his ugly accusations. “Samuel was up to nothing except being a good father! You’re wasting your breath talking otherwise, because I’ll not believe it.”

  He just laughed again. “That’s pretty naïve, now, don’t you think?” He squatted down in the turnip row in front of me.

  I scooped up all the turnips I’d pulled and turned away from him toward the well.

  “I heard tell you were friendly,” he said to my back. “But you’re not being too friendly at the moment.”

  I stopped and turned to face him. “What do you expect me to be? You come back with nothing but ill words about my husband. What do you want? He’s caused you no trouble. A brotherly visit is one thing, but this is something else!”

  “But it is a brotherly visit. First chance I’ve had.” He shook his head. “You know, I didn’t want to believe it either, but what else are we gonna do? How would some singer woman get his name? Answer me that! How would she be able to tell me the state he was living in at the time, if he never met her?”

  I looked down at the turnips. “It’s just someone else.”

  “With the same name? And he happens to look like Sammy too, huh? She described him to me, and you can see him for yourself in that little girl’s face!”

  I remembered what Samuel had asked me—why is Edward enjoying this so much? I didn’t know. But it was making my head swim and my heart hurt. “Why did you come here? Just to see what he’d say? Or how I’d react? Why are you so glad to be bringing such a claim? Why are you laughing about it?”

  For a moment his eyes were cold, and I wished I hadn’t asked. I didn’t know this man. He wasn’t like Samuel. There was no way I could predict him from one moment to the next.

  Finally he answered, looking somehow distant. And his words came out with bitterness. “Sammy’s a good boy. I used to hear that, you know, all the time. But he was a scared little nothing who ran and hid every time Mother got drunk. I took care of him. I went and stole stuff so there’d be something in the house for him to eat. But I’m the bad one. I’m sure you’ve heard that. I’m trouble. But he’s the Christian, isn’t he? Maybe I came just to teach you a lesson. He’s not so good after all. We’re just alike, him and me. Except he’s livin’ a lie.”

  My heart was pounding at my insides. “If you really knew him, you couldn’t say that.”

  “I know him better than anybody.”

  “No. You haven’t seen him in—”

  “Fifteen years, Missus.”

  “Then you must know a lot has happened in that time.”

  He took a step toward me. “Yeah, you happened.”

  Quick as anything, he reached and put his hand on my arm. At first I didn’t know what to do. But then without another thought, I pulled away, plopped the turnips at the base of the well, and grasped the dipper in my hand.

  “Am I making you nervous, Missus?”

  “You should have a seat under a shade tree,” I told him. “Sit and wait. Samuel will be along before you know it.”

  “You hope so, you mean.”

  “Of course I hope so! His brother’s here, needing to be taught a thing or two about how to conduct himself!”

  He laughed. “You’re pretty. Even prettier when you’re upset. Sammy’s lucky. You wouldn’t think to attach yourself to anyone else, now would you?”

  For a moment I just stared at him. How dare he say such things! Usually I could be just as pleasant as you please. But Edward Wortham had crossed the line. Without a word, I dunked the dipper full and flung the cold spray in his face.

  He stepped back in surprise and then shook his shaggy head the way he’d done before. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement by the barn. Little Franky coming out with a hammer in his hand. Thank God for him.

  “Mrs. Wortham!” the little boy called. “Wanna come see the chair I’m workin’ on? Shapin’ up to be somethin’!” He stopped short and looked at the tall, wet stranger. I’m sure he remembered Samuel’s brother. But I could see the distrust in his eyes just the same.

  “Yes, Franky, I’ll be glad to see it,” I told him. “I’ll come right now.”

  I didn’t know if Edward would follow me or leave. Or maybe even wait under a shade tree like I’d suggested. But he did none of those things. When I turned toward the barn, he started for the house. Franky noticed as soon as I did.

  “Where are you goin’?” he asked.

  “Thought I’d help myself to—”

  “Nope,” Franky interrupted. “If you want somethin’, you should ask polite. Otherwise, you hadn’t ought to be comin’ ’round, ’specially goin’ in the house nor botherin’ Mrs. Wortham, ’less Mr. Wortham’s here.”

  Edward looked at me. “So who’s this spunky kid?”

  “Franky.” I put my hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  And Edward stared him in the eye. “I never seen the like for unfriendliness. All I wanted was a bite to eat.”

  “Did you ask?” Franky looked up at me, as though he might not trust Edward’s answer.

  “No, I didn’t ask,” Edward said impatiently. “Ain’t it your place to offer?”

  Franky crossed his skinny arms, hammer and all. “I don’t know. Mrs. Wortham, ought we give him anything?”

  I didn’t want to. But Emma had fed even the tramps who came around. And somehow or another, this character was my husband’s brother.

  So I let him sit at our table again. I didn’t have anything ready, or my fire lit yet for cooking. But I opened the last jar of peaches, and he ate them all with a chunk of fresh bread and a strip of George Hammond’s rabbit jerky.

  “You serve a strange meal, Mrs. Wortham. I figured countr
y folks to cook up something bigger.”

  “Not at this time of day.” I wasn’t anxious for him staying.

  Sarah played upstairs, but Franky sat and watched the whole time Edward ate. And I kept expecting Samuel to pull in. It was almost dinnertime. I knew I should start my fire in the ring of creek rocks Samuel had brought up for outside cooking. I should put the green beans and the baby turnips in a covered pan over the coals. But I didn’t want this man to take that as an invitation. How would Samuel react when he found out how his brother had talked to me? Maybe I shouldn’t tell him.

  Finally Edward stood up from the table and stretched. Franky stood up too, and Edward shook his head at him. “Ought to leave your hammer in the barn when you come out to greet folks, boy. Liable to be scarin’ people away.”

  “ Some folks needs scared, I figure,” Franky replied with a solemn face.

  Edward only laughed. “What’d you think I was gonna do? Take off with Mrs. Wortham here? And you were gonna stop me?” He kept chuckling. “Stupid brave kid.”

  “You needn’t talk to him like that,” I said. “Franky’s a sensible child and I appreciate him.”

  Edward looked long at me, his dark eyes so different from Samuel’s, and yet, strangely, suddenly the same. “If I was really wanting to make trouble, Missus, I could. I’m not so bad as you think. I sure ain’t gonna hurt you, whether you want to believe me or not.”

  He walked outside, and I watched from the doorway as he crossed the yard to his car. He got in and started the motor and looked up at me. “Almost forgot!” he yelled. And then he threw a little blue bag out onto the grass and sped away.

  Katie’s things. I wondered at him. I wondered if that wasn’t why he’d really come. He was a puzzle. Why he acted the way he did was beyond me to understand. But maybe somehow he was trying to do the right thing, on Katie’s part at least.

  By the time Samuel drove back up, Edward’s visit was all a jumble in my brain. Maybe I shouldn’t speak a word of it. Samuel has been so upset already. Maybe he doesn’t need to know. But of course, I couldn’t explain how Katie’s bag got back.