Lee’s house. A second hidden agenda—and the other household directly involved with the mill situation. For an irrational moment I pictured myself retorting to Aunt Eva that I wanted no part in her machinations. But, of course, I couldn’t say that. “I don’t know. I thought I’d pick a pattern to start making a dress.”
“Well, you need to go to the store then anyhow. You can see what the dime store right here’s got, maybe avoid a trip to Albertsville.” She glanced at her watch. “Come on, we can manage to visit both families if we get a move-on.”
My eyes closed. “What do you think will happen in the meeting?”
She regarded me, her expression changing. “You’re worried ‘bout this too, aren’t you?”
I lifted a shoulder.
“Well, honey, don’t worry too much. Everybody listens to Thomas, you know that. Even Blair Riddum.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
She smiled, then eyed me critically. “You certainly have lovely skin. And that high-cheeked face a yours has always been perfect. But perhaps you ought to comb your hair, put on a touch of lipstick. Lee might be home, you know. I’ll fetch my purse.”
I rolled my eyes as she flitted happily out my bedroom door.
We were at the dime store before 9:30, waiting for Gladys Winchet to arrive and unlock its doors. At 10:00 I was still dallying in the baby section, an impatient Aunt Eva at my side. I was vacillating between choosing an infant sleeper or a soft green blanket for Connie’s baby. A sweet blue and white outfit for Kevin Matthews was already tucked under my arm. Finally I chose the sleeper.
“Jessie, you must tell me all about your graduation!” Gladys Winchet exclaimed as we paid for the presents. To Aunt Eva, she whispered, “Heared anything yet?”
Aunt Eva shook her head, but importantly informed Miss Gladys, “We’re on our way over to the Matthews’s right now.”
Numerous people stopped us, hailing me with effusion and pumping my aunt for information. I was glad to see the townsfolk again, that familiar Bradleyville stability washing over me like warm rain. But the constant invitations to chat, normally welcomed by my aunt, were now driving her to near frenzy as she shooed me out the door and back into her old tan Buick. “Gracious,” she exclaimed, hefting her purse onto the seat, “it’ll be a wonder if we ever get off Main Street!”
We stopped at home to wrap the gifts. When we finally arrived at the Matthews’s, Thomas was still at his meeting. Not a good sign, but none of us wanted to say so. Miss Estelle and William Matthews greeted me warmly, while six-year-old Celia threw her arms around me in unabashed adoration. Celia was a striking child—blond-haired, serious beyond her years. At times, she carried an air of sadness that I could not quite define.
“Celia,” I said, pointing out the front window, “did you make all those designs out there?” Aunt Eva and I had been amazed at the chalked artwork on the front sidewalk. Almost every inch of it was covered in multihued hearts and flowers.
She stilled. “Yes.”
“They’re absolutely beautiful! Are they for something special?”
Her eyes slid away from mine. “I colored it for Mama when she brought Kevy home from the hospital. It was a present.”
I ran my fingers over her hair, feeling its silkiness. “You must have worked a long time. I’ll bet your mama really liked it.”
“Mmm hmm,” she replied distractedly. “Want to see my brother?”
Proudly, she showed me baby Kevin, sleeping in a small crib in his mother’s room, one tiny fist against his cheek. Back in the living room, she clamored to open my gift herself, already pulling at the ribbon on the brightly wrapped box.
“Celia!” Miss Estelle’s voice was sharp. “Mind your manners or go to your room.” Purposely, she took her time unwrapping the gift, ignoring Celia’s impatient jiggling. “Oh, Jessie, it’s so sweet.” Her fingers smoothed over the blue and white summer outfit. “He can wear it to church tomorrow.”
Miss Estelle was a pretty woman, with light brown hair and satin skin. Her features may have been delicate, but an undeniable strength resonated beneath those smooth pores. She donned herself in simple dresses, her hair in a bun, but no doubt about it, she wore the pants in the Matthews family. Her control extended over her family’s speech; no bad grammar allowed. Her husband worked as an accountant in Albertsville and was one of the nicest, quietest men I’d ever met, often holding up his hands in mellow contrition when Miss Estelle decided he’d overstepped his bounds. I often thought she reined her husband in so sternly to make up for the fact that she could do nothing to stop her father’s shenanigans or his war stories, which he loved to recount. Not to mention that Thomas spoke like any other long-time resident of Bradleyville and was proud of it.
Aunt Eva settled herself on a small love seat as if she were there to stay. Miss Estelle and Mr. Matthews sat in their respective armchairs. Celia cuddled next to me on the couch.
“Jessie, have you found a place to live yet?” Mr. Matthews asked.
“Yes.” Absentmindedly, I smoothed Celia’s hair. “It’s a great one-bedroom apartment in a large complex with a pool. Not too far from my job. I can move in August first, so I’ll have two weeks to settle in before I start working.”
“Good, good. Will you be back in your old neighborhood?”
“Close to it.”
He nodded thoughtfully. Aunt Eva and Miss Estelle exchanged a glance. “No boyfriends hanging in the wings?” he asked.
The inevitable question. I was an old maid by Bradleyville standards. Typically, the town’s young men and women linked up in high school, adhering to strict rules that allowed actual dates only after girls turned seventeen. After graduation, there was always a rush of weddings. Within a year or two most of the brides had babies, their eyes suddenly opened to the wary protection of their own mothers, their minds already calculating future enforcement of the dating rules they’d so hated.
“I didn’t have time to go out much,” I replied.
I answered more questions and posed a few polite ones of my own. Miss Estelle and my aunt took turns surreptitiously watching a clock hanging over the mantel as the hands inched toward noon.
“My, it’s lunch time,” Aunt Eva finally burst. “Where is that Thomas? Got me worried sick, bein’ gone so long.”
“I’m beginning to wonder myself,” Mr. Matthews replied.
“Well, at least your family wouldn’t be touched by a strike.”
Aunt Eva patted her hair distractedly. “I can’t stand to think a Frank in the middle of it.”
“Of course we’d be affected.” Miss Estelle’s tone held an edge. “You think Dad would keep out of it, with his grandiosity? Look at him already.”
“Thomas has a good head on his shoulders,” William put in mildly. “He’d know what to do.”
Miss Estelle closed her eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Well, there won’t be a strike,” Aunt Eva insisted, waving an arm. “God forgive the first man who even spoke the word. Imagine what could happen to this town. Men fightin’, families without a paycheck. It would be awful, just awful. I can hardly sleep at night, thinkin’ ‘bout it.” She craned her neck, looking through the front window. “Where is that man, anyway?”
Not until we were nearly finished eating did Thomas return, the tires of his son-in-law’s car crunching over loose pebbles in the driveway. He mounted the back stairs and entered the kitchen wearily, removing his brown felt hat to run stubby fingers through his white hair. Our questions were silent, displayed in Miss Estelle’s worried eyes, the halt of a sandwich halfway to Aunt Eva’s mouth. He nodded at me and winked but did not smile. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he swiped at his forehead with an arm.
“Got any more a that iced tea?”
“Sure, Dad, I’ll get it.” Miss Estelle moved with efficient grace.
Thomas took his time pulling out a chair, its wooden legs softly scraping across the linoleum floor. He swigged the tea, pla
ced his glass on the table with a click. “Well.” He stuck his tongue between his teeth and upper lip. “Riddum said, ‘No.’”
chapter 9
I shot you; you’re dead!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Hush up you two, you’ll wake up yer little sister. Go outside and kill each other in the yard.”
“Yessir.”
Two small pairs of boot-clad feet rat-tatted across the bare wood floor and down the porch steps. “Lord love ‘em,” their father whispered to himself, turning his beefy face toward the clock. A fly buzzed his head, and he swatted at it with impatience, registering the clink of dishes as his young wife cleaned up after lunch. One-twenty and no word yet. He shot a disapproving look at the telephone as if it were to blame, and, by providence, it rang. Crossing the room in four strides, he snatched up the receiver. Sounds from the kitchen ceased.
“Yeah.”
“Riddum said no deal.”
His lips exploded air. “Why?”
“Said the money ain’t there; he cain’t spend what he ain’t got.”
“He ain’t got it ‘cause it’s sittin’ in that fancy new porch a his.”
“Yep.” The voice on the line was heavy. “Lee said Thomas just called; he’s been out there all this time.”
The man glanced up to see his wife standing in the doorway, hands bunching her apron. “Oh, Lord,” he breathed, “what’re we gonna do now.”
chapter 10
The specter of bad news dangling from her like the handbag over her arm, Aunt Eva was undeterred from her plans for our next visit. Uncle Frank had not returned from Albertsville, this determined by her placing a phone call home. “We’d better go ahead and see the Hardings,” she said grimly, pulling her car away from the Matthews’s house. “They’ll need the encouragement.”
I just wanted to go home. I also wanted to tell Blair Riddum off. She glanced at me as we stopped at the light on the corner of Minton and Main. “Lee’s a good man,” she said, as if I’d spoken against him. “Probably five, six years older’n you. He was livin’ in Albertsville till last year, when his mama had that fall. Came back here to take care a her. Blair Riddum snapped him right up for the mill, strong as he is. And in just that short a time, he’s become a real leader down there; that’s what your uncle says.”
I watched the post office glide by through her window. Two elderly men were sitting on the bench out front under the shade of an oak. “I don’t like Uncle Frank being caught between the men and his boss.”
She nodded. “I still think things’ll work out somehow. We’re prayin’ mighty hard, you know. Have been ever since the troubles began. Besides, you know how it is here. People hash out their problems and get on with their business.”
I rested my cheek against a fist and closed my eyes, hoping she was right.
Looking back on it, I’d say the die between Lee Harding and me was cast that warm June afternoon. He was wearing worn jeans and a blue short-sleeved work shirt as his oversized hand held open his screen door. Seeing me behind my aunt, he remolded his expression from distraction to pleasure. “Come in,” he said as a phone began to ring.
Giving no recognition to the auspicious timing of our arrival, Aunt Eva waved him to answer it and leaned over to peck his mother on the cheek. “Now don’t get up,” she clucked, inquiring with forced cheerfulness about Wilma Harding’s hip and insisting that the woman soon would be running around the block. Miss Wilma was tall and stocky, iron gray hair pulled to the nape of her neck. Her eyes were dark, like Lee’s. A black metal cane leaned against her chair. She had a no-nonsense air about her, a radiating strength that made her seem larger than life. When I was younger, I’d found her intimidating.
Lee’s sister, Connie, waddled in, one hand self-consciously resting on her huge abdomen. She, too, was big-built, with long black hair and brown eyes. Her skin was tanned, her cheeks rouged with heat. I had not seen her in a few years and had known her only nominally in high school. “Hi, Connie,” I said, taking her hand. “It’s so good to see you again. I brought you a little something for the baby.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, her eyes moistening. “You shouldn’t have.”
I glanced meaningfully at her stomach with a grin. “Looks like it’s about time you were gathering things.”
“Guess you’re right.” Her gaze fell to the floor. I stood before her awkwardly, wondering if I’d offended her.
“Come, Connie,” her mother prompted. “Sit down and open your gift.”
With a shy glance at me, Connie huffed to the couch and fell into it gracelessly. We all watched as she opened the present, being careful to save the paper. I could hear Lee’s low voice from around the corner.
“Thank you so much,” she said softly, holding up the sleeper for her mother to see. “It’s so cute—” Her words cut off abruptly, and she gazed at the sleeper, rubbing it with a thumb. We all waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, Aunt Eva, Miss Wilma, and I exchanged glances and stilted smiles.
Fortunately, Aunt Eva found something to say. As she and Miss Wilma chatted, I listened half-heartedly. Looking around the simply furnished Harding house, I felt a twinge of guilt at my self-preoccupation in regard to the problems at the sawmill. The morning’s disappointment merely threatened my quiet summer, but their livelihood depended on Lee’s paycheck. Both Miss Wilma and Connie could barely move. What’s more, they both were alone in their own way, one widowed, one abandoned. Given the circumstances, I thought, the bundle of unborn life sending a flush to Connie’s pudgy cheeks could be more a source of fear than joy.
Lee had snatched up the phone and carried it into the kitchen, its long cord trailing to an outlet beside the chair in which I sat. His muffled voice continued to drone through the wall. “He’s been on that phone ever since Thomas called,” his mother was saying to Aunt Eva. “Phones ringin’, tongues flyin’ all over town. Somehow he’s got hisself smack in the middle. But that was always Lee. Tryin’ to fix everything, you know.” She looked pointedly at me. “Speakin’ a fixin’, he’ll have to show you out yonder. Another month or so and he’ll have the addition for Connie and the baby done. We kept tellin’ him, ‘you don’t got to do that,’ but he insisted, sayin’ a child’s got to have room to grow.”
I glanced at Aunt Eva, but she was the picture of innocence. All the same, I saw right through their none-too-subtle scheming. When Lee reappeared with the phone cradled in his palm, his mother flicked a casual hand in my direction. “Our guest would like to see your handiwork; why don’t ya show her.”
“Uh, sure,” he said. His mother’s intentions were equally obvious to him, and, sensing his embarrassment, I hesitated.
Aunt Eva shot me a look. “Well, go on, you two.” Then, with purpose, she turned her back on me, asking Miss Wilma about the neighbor’s gall bladder operation, and what would that woman and her husband do if things went poorly at the mill. Smiling weakly at Lee, I allowed myself to be ushered out of the room.
Holding my elbows, I walked with him through Connie’s small bedroom, feeling awkward at the ambient intimacy. The room was cluttered with clothes, cloth diapers, and a few bright toys, awaiting small hands. “Crowded, huh.” Lee pointed to an unpainted door, still smelling of freshly cut wood. “I’m addin’ on here.” I muttered my approval. “It’ll lead to a nursery and a playroom. I got the frame up but it’s not Sheetrocked yet.” He opened the door and we stepped into sunlight, Aunt Eva’s chatter fading away. “Mama’s excited ‘bout a grandbaby,” he smiled, “but like most older folk, she needs her quiet. This should keep both her and Connie happy.”
“I’m sure it will.” I leaned against the bare frame and looked around, searching for something else to say. Lee found a hammer on the floor and tossed it into a cardboard box.
“How long you stayin’ in town?”
“Till the first of August.”
“What then?”
I told him my plans.
; He scooted the box with his foot, kicking up dust. “I’ll bet you’re sorry you came back to Bradleyville.”
His perception surprised me. “No. Not sorry for me. Just … sorry for all the trouble people are facing.”
“Yeah. Well.” In the distance, I heard the phone ring. Lee dragged a hand across his forehead and smiled at me ruefully. The barest of dimples shadowed his right cheek. “I’ll let Mom get that.”
“My uncle doesn’t even know how the meeting turned out. He’s still not home yet.”
“Yeah, he is. That was him callin’ when you arrived. I told him y’all were here.”
“Oh! What does he say? What do you say?”
He watched a robin land on a nearby phone wire, cocking its head at us with curiosity. “I say ‘no’ doesn’t mean forever. We got to keep dialogue open with Riddum and at the same time keep tempers in check. Includin’ mine. It’s not just the money anymore; it’s the way he treats us. If he showed us more respect, maybe we could handle the lack of a raise. For the second time.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Things could get ugly.”
“Is that what you want?”
Irritation flitted across his face. “‘Course it’s not what I want. It’s not what anyone wants. But I got a lot to think about. My mother and sister on one hand and a bunch a angry men on the other.”
A protectiveness for my own family rose within me. “What about my uncle caught in the middle? He’s your manager, but he’s friends with you all. He doesn’t need to be dragged into trouble. In five years he could be retiring, and he’ll need his pension.”
Lee’s gaze was steady. “I’ll do everything I can,” he said in measured tone, “to keep from draggin’ Frank into trouble. Okay?”
I started to apologize for my unaccountable rudeness, but the words wouldn’t come. Fact was, Uncle Frank did have more to lose than Lee. At his age, he’d have a much harder time finding another job. “Okay then.” My voice was not as contrite as I would have hoped.
Cast a Road Before Me Page 5
