Tuesday night, Lee and I went for a drive after supper and couldn’t decide whether to hold each other or fight. I couldn’t blame him for his testiness. Within a few days he would lose me and perhaps his job while his unwed sister was having a baby whom he must support. By the time we reached our knoll and had spread out the blanket, I was close to tears. Three nights ago we’d held each other; now our impending futures hulked between us like monsters in the night.
We ended up fighting. He told me bitterly that the whole thing was silly. No one was making me go. My obstinacy was costing us both dearly, and for what. He said I was selfish and unkind, and he wished he’d never met me. We stormed across that hill and that blanket, throwing frustrated hands to the heavens. I knew everything he said was true. I also knew I had to go, that years of planning could not be cast aside—even for the whims of love.
“A whim! Is that what you call this?” His voice was tight.
“No, Lee.” I sank dejectedly onto the blanket, head hung. “I said love.”
He held my face with both hands. “I say love too. And let me tell you what love does. Love stays where it’s returned. Love seeks to make the other person happy. Stay in Bradleyville, Jessie. Marry me. I’ll build us a big house. My mother will love you like her own daughter. Connie already loves you like a sister. You’ll be an aunt to her baby. As for work, Miss Alice wants to retire; you could buy out her shop. Work when you want to. Work around havin’ your own babies. You’ll be near your aunt and uncle, near Thomas. You can watch little Celia grow. And we can be together.”
“You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you,” I replied with an edge.
He held my gaze.
“And what about my dreams, my life? What about the city I long to return to? What if I get restless here as your wife, resentful that I had to give up all my plans? If you love me so much, come to Cincinnati with me.”
“I can’t, Jessie. I got family here to take care of.”
“And what if you didn’t? Would you go then?”
He withdrew his hand, rubbed his forehead.
“See. You wouldn’t. Because it’s not you. Your way of life is here, and you know it. But imagine losing both your parents by sixteen. Imagine having to go live in a place that’s just the opposite of what you’re used to. You didn’t even make it past Albertsville, for heaven’s sake. You would always want to come back, and as soon as you grew up, you’d do just that. So don’t judge me. Don’t say you don’t understand, because you do.”
“All right, Jessie!” He threw out his arms. “You win! I can’t talk ‘bout this anymore, because I just want to get up right now and hit somethin’!” He swiveled his head away, jaw set. We sat in silence, his shoulders carved against the sunset like stone. I picked blades of grass and let them fall on the blanket, green on yellow.
“We better get back,” he said finally, his words ragged. “Connie might need us.”
I couldn’t stand his being angry with me. “You worried about work tomorrow?” I asked softly.
He snorted. “Thought you were doin’ your best not to notice.”
“Oh, Lee.”
“Since you asked, yes. I’m worried. Your idea of puttin’ things off till August bought you the time you wanted. Now that you’re about to go, I got to think ‘bout facin’ a strike. And you don’t have to tell me again you don’t approve a such things.”
Tears bit my eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“You won’t be around to see it.”
“Lee, don’t.”
He ran a weary hand over his face. “I’m not gonna get hurt, Jessie. Things could get real tense, and if we’re outta work long, I don’t know how half the town’ll eat. But my gut says it won’t last long. If we don’t work, Riddum’ll lose a lot more money than if he’d givin’ us a raise.”
“But it’s not just a raise, is it.” I pushed hair away from his forehead. “It’s the way he treats you.”
“Yeah,” he replied, looking at me pointedly. “He’s selfish.”
My fingers stilled. I pulled them away. “Well, let’s go check on Connie.” I gazed into the distance, watching the twinkle of Bradleyville. “But let’s promise no matter what happens before Saturday to come back here one more time.”
“Sure. One more time.”
It was a promise we would not keep.
chapter 30
A professor at college once told me of her mother’s lingering, painful death from cancer. She’d thought she was prepared to see her mother’s final breath, had even planned songs to be sung at the memorial service. Yet when the moment of death occurred, she was shocked to the very core of her being. It may have been imminent, but it wasn’t supposed to happen then. Not in that moment, on that day.
In the same way, I was unprepared for worse news from the mill—but then it happened a day early. Even with talk running rampant, I told myself we need not really worry until August first. Until then, there was hope. It was my way of dealing with the anxiety.
Suddenly six weeks of immersion in self-concerns, of denial, came to a screeching halt on that Wednesday afternoon. And after that, nothing was the same.
According to plan, Lee and Uncle Frank were supposed to meet with Blair Riddum after work Thursday. The two of them discussed the meeting at length, planning how to negotiate. Thomas was to be on standby; one phone call and he’d beat it double time to the mill. I’d agreed to drive him. But as it happened, Blair Riddum called the two men into his office Wednesday and told them he’d made his decision. He’d watched the men for six weeks, he said. He’d tried to find a way to be generous. But they simply weren’t pulling their weight. A solemn-faced Uncle Frank told Aunt Eva and me at supper that he’d felt his heart sink to his toes.
“Let me tell you two somethin’,” Riddum had continued, pacing his cluttered office. Accounting books were strewn across his heavy, pocked desk. Outside the grimy window, Uncle Frank could see men waiting, tense and silent. Word had spread quickly about the impromptu meeting. “I was raised up yonder in Appalachia.” Riddum jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Didn’t have nothin’ ‘cept an old carcass-lookin’ dog as starved as us kids. Slept on a pile a blankets in the corner; hunted for our supper. My daddy was steel-eyed mean, and that’s when he was sober. I left that godforsaken place when I was fourteen without lookin’ back, and I’ve pulled my own way up ever since. And that’s why,” he pointed a finger at Lee, “that’s why I won’t be pushed into doin’ somethin’ I don’t wanna do. This is my mill. I sweat to save the money for it, and I work longer hours here than anybody. I stay in this hole of an office long after everybody else’s gone. So I’ll run it the way I please. I wasn’t scared a my daddy, and I ain’t scared a y’all. If you don’t like it here, y’all can work someplace else, the whole bunch a ya. And that’s all I got to say.”
When Uncle Frank finished his retelling, even Aunt Eva was silent. If my uncle’s heart had been in his toes, mine had just drained out my feet. I knew Lee must be furious. I wondered what he would do.
“So,” Uncle Frank said grimly, “there’s a meetin’ tonight at the school gymnasium. We’re gonna talk about what to do. I imagine the whole town’ll be there, since it’ll affect everybody. I heard Bill Clangerlee’s even closin’ the IGA early.”
Aunt Eva’s hand was at her throat. With trembling fingers she reached to squeeze Uncle Frank’s wrist. “I’ll be right there with you, Frank.”
I looked at my plate. My beef pot pie was barely touched. “I have some packing to do,” I said quietly. “Picked up all the extra boxes I need today. So I guess I … better do that.” Glancing up, I tried to smile. Uncle Frank nodded solemnly.
“Aren’t you goin’ to be with Lee?” Aunt Eva’s voice held more than a tinge of disapproval.
I lifted a shoulder. “What would I do?”
“Be with him. Stand by him durin’ this hard time. He’s got important decisions to make.”
“Those decisions won’t affec
t me, Aunt Eva,” I replied levelly. “I’ll be gone in a few days. And besides, I can’t make up Lee’s mind for him; he’s gonna do what he’s gonna do.”
“I can’t make up your uncle’s mind for him either, but I’ll still be there.”
“Now, Eva—”
“Now, Eva, nothin’, Frank, not this time; I got a right to talk too, you know.” Her voice rose. “And I can’t keep quiet any longer. I’ve watched her come home night after night from bein’ with Lee and go right to her room to pack. And Jessie, I love you like my own. But I don’t like to see you playin’ with people’s lives.”
I stared at her, bristling. “I am not ‘playing with people’s lives.’”
“Yes, you are. Lee’s in love with you; you know that. And you’ve also known from the beginning you wouldn’t be turned away from leavin’. So you shoulda let him be. You shoulda let Connie and Wilma be too. Instead, you got ‘em all lovin’ you and needin’ you in their own way, especially now. But you don’t care ‘cause you’re leavin’ in three days.”
“You put us together; you pushed me to be with Lee!”
“I thought you’d end up stayin’! I know that’s what you should do, and you’re just too stubborn to see it! Jessie, think about the people who love you. This town’s given you a lot. And right now it’s facin’ the worst trouble it’s ever faced. Lee needs you. Your uncle needs you. And all you’re thinkin’ ‘bout is yourself.”
“Come on, hon,” Uncle Frank grasped her arm, “don’t get all worked up now.”
“I have a job to go to,” I retorted, gripping the seat of my chair. “I have an apartment I’ve already paid the first month for. I can’t just back out of all that.”
“Of course you can’t,” Uncle Frank soothed.
“Then why didn’t you just go!” Aunt Eva’s face crumpled. “Why did you come back here in June only to leave us again!”
I searched her face, only then beginning to understand. “Aunt Eva, I didn’t—”
“Oh, never mind!” She jumped up, driving her chair back across the linoleum. “I’ve prayed and prayed for you! I’ve told you time and time again you need to become a Christian, so you can find the peace that I have! But never mind all that, Jessie; just do what you have to do. Don’t worry about us!” And before either Uncle Frank or I could stop her, she fled the room.
We sat in embarrassed silence. “It’s been hard for her,” my uncle said finally, “ever since Henry was killed. You know that. And she’s been under a lot a stress lately, worried about me and all the people she knows at the mill. She’s got a big heart, you know. Plus, facin’ an empty nest—this time for good—is a difficult thing for her.”
I felt about a foot high. “Should I go in to her?”
“No.” He rose. “I’ll go. Can you do the dishes? That meetin’s in half an hour.”
“Sure.”
On automatic, I cleaned the kitchen, pushing away unwanted thoughts. Everything was fine, I told myself; I was fine. I was so very, very fine, I felt nothing at all. By the time my aunt and uncle left for the meeting, I was in my room, door closed. I had not even called Lee.
chapter 31
She was stirring soup on the stove when the phone rang. “Ah!” she cried in anxious surprise, dropping the large spoon to spatter red-brown broth, vegetables, and bits of meat on the floor. From the backyard filtered sounds of her three children playing. Their daddy had sent them outside before telling her the news. She took a deep breath; let the spoon lie. “Hello? Yeah, I heared. I’m scared to death. No, I cain’t go; I got to stay with the kids. Oh, that’s right nice a you; your oldest is a mighty sweet girl. You sure she can manage your kids and mine too? Well, good; I’ll take you up on that. I really wanna be there….”
Across town, a woman was unhooking a load of wash from the line, angrily throwing clothespins into the laundry basket. “You bet I’m mad,” she said loudly to her neighbor across the fence. “I don’t want my husband puttin’ up with this anymore. All our men at the mill have had the patience a Job, but enough’s enough. We been real careful with our money the past month, so I hope the men just tell Riddum where he can go. And it ain’t the IGA! …”
The hardware store clerk had found an old piece of cardboard and was writing with a black marker in large block letters. CLOSED FOR MEETING. His cash register would just have to be balanced tomorrow….
“Please, God.” She paced the bedroom, raking hands through her graying hair. Stay calm, she told herself, stay calm. “After all these years, what’re we gonna do? Who’s gonna hire him three years from retirement? …”
The young woman held up her half-finished wedding dress, sniffling at her reflection. The dress was so beautiful. For the hundredth time she berated herself for not marrying in June. Why had they insisted on saving for two more months? Now what if he lost his job? What then? …
chapter 32
I really didn’t have much to do.
There were my new dresses to pack and a few personal things to put into boxes. But all the clothes in my dresser could stay right where they were. And of course some final items, such as my pillows and bed comforter, couldn’t be packed until the morning of my trip. I’d reserved a small rental truck from Albertsville. Uncle Frank would drive me there early Friday morning to pick it up, and we would pack it Friday evening. I didn’t have a lot of furniture anyway, just two chests of drawers, a nightstand, my bed, a bookcase, and my desk and chair. And my antiquated sewing machine. Thursday was to be my last day at Miss Alice’s. That left me time Friday midmorning for my appointment at Ed Tam’s gas station to change the front tires on my car.
I stared at my new dresses, thoughts elsewhere. Finally I decided not to pack them yet; the longer they sat in a box, the more wrinkled they would become. Wandering around the room, I found myself standing at my desk, looking at a diagram I’d made for placing furniture in my new apartment. I pictured myself walking through the finished rooms, car keys in hand, home from a day at work. Stacked on the table would be files I needed to go over, each one representing a family I was helping. My boss would be pleased at the wonderful job I was doing. My heart would be full, knowing my abilities and training were finally being used as my mother had wanted. Maybe, if I wasn’t going to the Center, I’d be heading to take a bath, change clothes, and go out with friends. Maybe a date.
Lee’s face shimmered in my mind.
A sigh escaped me. I flicked the diagram out of my hand, and it landed askew on the desk. Staring blankly at the wall, I asked my guardian angel to lead me in what to do. Mom had taught me to be a caring person. She’d also taught me to eschew conflict, but that was a laugh now. Lately, my plans had brought me nothing but conflict.
With resolve, I picked up an empty box and set it on the edge of my bed. Went to my closet for a couple pair of shoes. Tossed them in from a few feet away. Went back to the closet for more. Tried to throw them into the box without crossing the room. Hit it twice, missed twice. I marched over to grab the shoes from the floor and managed to bang my hip into the box, overturning it onto the carpet. I stared at it stupidly. Then, suddenly, I turned on my heel and yanked open my bedroom door. I didn’t bother to turn out the light.
The school gymnasium was standing-room-only when I arrived, every window and door open for muggy ventilation. The parking lot had been full; I’d walked from down the street. I could hear the sounds from where I’d parked: the roar of voices, the calls of children blithely engaged in tag on the playground, an occasional screech from the old P.A. system. Slipping through the main door, I pressed against a back wall, nodding to a few acquaintances. Uncle Frank had been right; practically the whole town was there. I could not see Lee or Aunt Eva. My uncle was on the platform, calling for the crowd’s attention.
The atmosphere was both suffocating and surreal. Was it only three weeks ago that these same people pressed against one another to cheer the July Fourth parade? Now anxiety glowed wanly throughout the crowd, reflected in a lined forehead,
a handkerchief clutched, the nervous swinging of a crossed leg. The metal folding chairs usually occupied by parents proudly watching children in a school play now were filled with mamas nervously hushing babies, fathers grumbling amongst themselves. My uncle seemed so small on the stage as he called again for order. And then, like a final settling of rocks after a landslide, the room grew dustily quiet.
I saw Lee standing near the stage steps, wearing jeans and a red knit shirt. His large hands were up, fingers spread, as if frozen after hushing people to silence. His expression was dark. My insides turned over. Before I knew it, I was on my way to him, trying my best to be unobtrusive, ducking under ranges of view, winding through knots of people. My uncle began to speak, relating exactly what Riddum had said that day, so “everyone could have the straight story.” I barely heard the words as my feet scuffed across the old wooden floor, eyes fixed on Lee’s back. He had not seen me, the gymnasium stretching between us. For no reason at all my heart began to beat harder, as if some terrible thing would happen if I did not reach him. And then, when I was only five feet away, I vaguely heard my uncle ask Lee to join him. I trotted the last three steps and reached out to empty air. Lee was already up the stairs and striding across the stage. I closed my eyes, feeling like a fool, and wilted back against the wall.
“Everyone who wants to, will get a chance to talk.” Lee’s voice boomed across the gymnasium. From the tone of his voice, I knew he was suppressing his anger. “But we’ll each have to keep it short. And we got to keep things orderly.”
With that invitation began a stream of caustic words against Blair Riddum as one man after another aired his grievances. For weeks they’d bottled up their frustrations; now they came tumbling out to ricochet off corners and ceiling and the bobbing of mill workers’ heads. “I say we strike, and we do it tomorrow!” shouted Zach Bulder, whose son was a few years younger than I. “He said it himself; he ain’t gonna change!”
Cast a Road Before Me Page 15
