“I’m sure you can,” Maggie replied. A long silence fell between them. Evy took a last bite of her sandwich and brushed the crumbs off her fingers. Then she spoke casually.
“You going to the fair on Sunday?”
Maggie raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”
“It’s a lot of fun,” said Evy. “Last thing we do before winter sets in. Over at the grammar school. They have tents, and there are rides and contests and stuff.”
“Sounds nice,” said Maggie listlessly. “It’s probably great for the kids.”
“Everybody likes it,” Evy assured her.
“Well, maybe,” said Maggie. “I’d probably feel funny. I don’t really know anybody.”
“You don’t need to know people,” Evy protested.
“I don’t know,” said Maggie. “I guess I’m just feeling a little shy.”
“You could always help out,” said Evy. “That would be one way of getting to know people.”
Maggie watched the girl as she ate a cookie she had fished out of her bag, wiping her mouth methodically and thoroughly chewing every bit. Maggie doubted that the fair was fun for the girl, despite what she said. She could not imagine Evy having fun. Still, she felt a sudden warmth toward the colorless girl for her suggestion.
“What sort of help do they need?” Maggie asked gently.
“Well,” said Evy, “I’m working in the bakery booth. They can always use pies for the bake sale.”
“I guess I could bake a pie,” Maggie offered.
“You can help me sell in the afternoon,” Evy said.
Maggie smiled at her. “That sounds like a good idea. I think I’d enjoy that. Thanks.”
“That’s all right,” said Evy. “Well, I guess I’ll get back,” she said, throwing her lunch bag into a can under the counter. “I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll be out soon,” Maggie said.
Satisfied, Evy picked up her jacket and gave Maggie a wave as she left.
A few hours later, Evy stepped through the door to Jess’s office and gently closed it behind her. She stared fixedly at Jess, who was running his hand absently through his hair as he scribbled on a sheet of paper. He looked up to see her standing there.
“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in.”
She kept her eyes fastened to his face. “Grace said you wanted to see me.”
Jess motioned toward the chair by his desk. “Well, don’t look so alarmed. I just wanted to talk to you.”
Evy stood beside the chair. “I thought I must have done something wrong.”
Jess smiled at her. “You’re a real worrywart sometimes, you know it?” he teased her gently.
A pleased smile tugged at the corners of Evy’s mouth. She dropped into the chair.
“Actually,” he said, “I called you in here to compliment you.”
“You did?” Evy raised her eyes to his. Their cool blueness had dissolved into a smoky gray haze.
Jess nodded.
She smiled at him. “I knew you weren’t mad at me.”
“Mad at you? My dear young woman,” said Jess with a briskness that made Evy giggle. “On the contrary, I am your servant.”
“You are?” Evy asked, trying to stifle her giggle by putting her fist in front of her mouth.
“I certainly am,” he said sternly, and then he directed a menacing glower at her which made her laugh more uncontrollably.
“Get a hold of yourself, girl,” he ordered as tears of laughter gathered in her eyes. He extricated his handkerchief from his pocket and waved it at her. “Here you go,” he said. “You’re awfully silly today.”
“I’m sorry,” Evy gasped. “I don’t know what was so funny.”
Jess grinned and accepted the balled-up cotton square back from her. “It’s good to see you laugh. Sometimes you seem so worried.” After a pause he spoke gently. “How’s Grandma?”
Evy shrugged and lowered her eyes. “She’s okay.”
“Listen, Evy, if I can ever help you out in that department, I want you to let me know, okay?”
“Okay,” she said softly.
“Like I said, I owe you one.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Well, yes I do,” Jess insisted. “I heard from Maggie how nice you were to her today. How you invited her to help out with the fair and all.”
“Was that what you meant?” the girl asked, stricken.
“Well,” Jess floundered, seeing her disappointment. “I think it’s a wonderful thing to help someone out when they need you. I’ve always known that you were that kind of person. Now, Maggie’s new here, and she’s had a hard time adjusting. I just wanted you to know that I think you did a very kind thing.”
“Thank you,” said Evy flatly, the joy vanished from her face and voice.
Jess bit his lip and waited a moment before he spoke. Finally he said, “Did I say something wrong?”
Evy stared at him, wounded but defiant. “I don’t know why you like her so much,” she said. “You don’t really know her. There’s something wrong with her. Anyone can see that.”
Jess frowned as he answered her. “Evy, I had kind of thought, after what Maggie told me today, that you two might be becoming better friends. I mean, the way you helped her and tried to bring her in on the fair and all. I just assumed…”
The girl looked at him steadily. Behind her eyes Jess could see her furiously debating what she wanted to say. When at last she spoke, her voice was harsh. “I didn’t do it for her. I did it for you,” she said.
The girl’s words stung and surprised him, but he tried to mask his uneasiness. “I see,” he said.
When he looked up at Evy he could see that she was stricken, as if horrified by her own words.
“Evy,” he said gently. “Whatever your reasons, it was a nice thing to do anyway. I hope,” he added lamely, “one of these days you two will become friends.”
Evy nodded dumbly. “Can I go now?” she asked.
“Sure, of course.” Jess watched silently as the girl got up and left his office. Then he leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. The day’s end was upon him suddenly. Unnoticed, unobserved, the afternoon light had vanished, and the town was darkening quickly and suddenly, like a Kansas prairie, when out of nowhere a twister appears on the horizon and looms over the land. Jess knew what it meant. It meant that the winter was coming, when the darkness sneaked up on you like that. Still frowning, he slipped on the sweater hanging behind his chair. He felt chilly, and unprepared.
11
In honor of the Harvest Fair, the red brick facade of the Heron’s Neck Elementary School was temporarily divested of its sober, pedagogical aspect. A jauntily lettered banner announcing the fair hung suspended between two far-flung classroom windows. At one end of the flat, tree-studded lawn, a green and white striped tent billowed in the autumn breeze. Under the canvas peaks of the tent, tables from the children’s cafeteria were lined up and festooned with crepe paper. The tabletops were scarcely visible beneath the colorful collections of chipped china, potted plants, piles of books and used clothes. Several women clustered around each cache of goods, sorting and arranging, consulting one another about the visual appeal of the displays they settled on.
Children on bicycles wheeled through the congested parking lot beside the school, while a group of older men in checkered lumberman’s jackets surveyed the scene from their folding chairs at the lawn’s untrafficked edge. The fineness of the day was the observation most frequently exchanged. Wives supervised their aproned husbands in the preparation of steamer clams and cauldrons of lobsters, while they shucked the last good ears of the late corn for the boiling pots.
A small Ferris wheel and several games of chance were set apart on the fieldlike lawn, operated by a group of swarthy strangers who had arrived on the morning ferry as they did each year. The teen aged girls giggled flirtatiously as they loitered nearby, but the men only flashed polite smiles and kept their distance. B
y sundown they would be packed up and gone again, their metal wheel dismantled despite the dismayed protests of the children—the same children who now screamed in terror at its climb.
Holding her pie plate aloft, Maggie threaded her way through the noisy crowd. Children with their faces painted like goblins darted past her, shrieking at one another. Some of the people whom she passed looked familiar to her, although they did not acknowledge her when they accidentally caught her glance.
The spirited bustle of the fair made her feel lonely. Jess had left the house early, to help set up the firemen’s booth, while she set about baking her pie. It had taken longer to brown than the cookbook indicated, and Maggie wondered now how it had turned out. She longed for the sight of a friendly face, and she looked about for Jess, or even Evy. A group of glass vases and china tableware under the tent top caught her eye as she passed by. Maggie stepped over the supporting rope and began to sort through the collection of ancient knickknacks with her free hand. As she shifted her pie from her hand to the corner of the table, she felt all at once that she was being observed. Maggie looked up and saw Tom Croddick peering at her suspiciously. The shopkeeper turned his back on her. Maggie replaced the teacup she was holding on the table and quickly escaped from the shadow of the tent.
She did not know in which direction to turn as she stood in the sunlight, blinking to adjust her eyes. Hazarding a guess, she walked toward the parking lot. Almost immediately she spotted the sign for baked goods. Maggie clutched her pie resolutely and headed in the direction of the banner. As she got closer she could see the table, covered in a faded blue tablecloth. The trays and tins of cakes, cookies, and buns were wrapped in plastic and aluminum. Above the table the sign floated, held aloft by two tomato sticks that had been nailed to the back of the table. Evy stood behind the display, arranging the baked goods the way she arranged her desk at work. The sight of her was oddly reassuring. Maggie smiled with relief as she approached the booth.
“Hi, there,” she said.
Evy started slightly, then greeted her with a broad smile. “Hi,” she said. Evy was not alone at the booth. Behind her a woman was bending over, writing on a note pad.
“I made a pie,” said Maggie, holding out the results of her morning in the kitchen.
“Good,” said Evy. “Just put it down on the table. Wherever it’ll fit.”
Maggie coughed uneasily and watched Evy resume her methodical ordering of goodies. “How’s it going?” she asked.
“Pretty good,” said the girl, indicating a metal cash box filled with change.
“Actually,” Maggie spoke up, “I came by now because you said you might need some help.”
“Oh,” said Evy.
“Do you still?” Maggie asked, fearing a dismissal.
“Yes. Sure.” She gestured for Maggie to come around behind the table. Relieved, Maggie quickly complied. “Alice,” said Evy, addressing the woman behind her who was busily stacking cookies on a plate. “Why don’t you take a break? I’ve got some help here now.”
The woman straightened up and rubbed her back with a grimace. “I could use a break,” she admitted. “Thanks.” She addressed her smile to Maggie.
Nonplussed, Maggie smiled back. “You’re welcome,” she said.
“This is Maggie Fraser,” said Evy. “She works at the paper.”
“Nice to meet you,” said the chunky woman pleasantly as she untied her apron and handed it to Maggie. “I’m Alice Murphy. Here, you’d better wear this.”
Maggie donned the apron as Alice departed her post to plunge into the festivities. Maggie looked around at the piles of confections and spoke to Evy. “What shall I do?” she asked.
“Finish fixing those cookies, and then you can make price tags. Alice has the list on that pad.” Obediently Maggie knelt down and set about her task, while Evy waited on the people who approached the booth. For the most part, Maggie kept to her work. Evy’s conversation with the customers flowed comfortably over her bent shoulders. She paid little attention to what she said, until her attention was caught by a familiar voice. She looked up and saw Jess chatting amiably with Evy.
“Which one of these is yours?” he asked the girl, eyeing the array of baked goods.
Evy hesitated, and then pointed to a mound of chewy-looking bars on a plate. “I made the apricot bars,” she admitted.
“Let me try one,” said Jess, putting a quarter down beside the plate. Evy handed him a bar wrapped in a napkin.
“Mmmmm.… They’re wonderful,” he told her. “Apricot’s my favorite.”
Evy’s shy smile and awkward stance betrayed her pleasure. “You really like them?” she asked.
“They’re great,” he assured her.
Maggie straightened up from behind the table and smiled at him. “Hi,” she said.
“Hey, I didn’t even see you there,” he said. “How ya doing?”
Evy’s face tightened as Maggie returned his smile and nodded.
“Hey, Maggie, you should try one of these. They’re great,” he told her, indicating the apricot bars.
“I couldn’t,” Maggie groaned. “I’ve been sampling the cookies. They look delicious,” she said to Evy.
The girl shrugged off the compliment, looking away from her.
“Well, I’ll buy a couple and we can have them for dessert tonight,” said Jess, putting a dollar down beside the plate. And then without thinking—“Or breakfast even.”
At Jess’s remark, Evy stiffened as if she had been slapped. Maggie felt her own face begin to burn. The awkward camaraderie between her and Evy seemed to have vanished.
“I’ve got to get back to the firemen’s booth,” said Jess. “I’ll see you girls later.”
“I’ve finished those prices,” said Maggie. “What do you want me to do now?”
“I don’t know,” said Evy coldly.
Just then Grace came waddling up to the bakery booth, breaking the silence between them with her greeting.
“How’s business?” she said to Evy.
“Okay,” said Evy.
“Bobbie make her lemon soup this year?”
Evy laughed thinly. Grace launched into a retelling of the story of an ill-fated lemon meringue pie filling that had not set and swamped the pie plate every time a slice was cut. “She’ll never live that down,” Grace concluded about the unfortunate baker.
Maggie forced a smile but was acutely conscious that Evy was ignoring her. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling excluded from the conversation.
“Oh, look who’s coming,” Grace cried.
Maggie followed Grace’s pointing finger. She saw Sadie Wilson approaching the table, holding the hands of two boys, one dark and one fair-haired.
“These two belong to anybody here?” Sadie joked, stopping in front of Grace.
Grace put a protective hand on each of their shoulders. “What have they been up to?” she asked.
“No good,” said Sadie with a laugh as she turned to go. “They were looking for ya.”
“What’s the rush?” Grace asked her friend. “Have some cake.”
“Ned’s selling squash out of the truck. I gotta help him,” Sadie explained as she started off into the crowd.
“Hi, Mom,” said the older, blond-haired boy.
“Hi,” echoed the younger.
Grace turned to Maggie. “These are my big boys,” she announced proudly. “This is Raymond,” she said, pointing to the larger, blond-haired boy. “And this is Martin.”
Maggie stared down at the two children before her. For a moment she squinted, struggling to place them. Then it came back to her. The children on the dock. The boys who were tormenting the turtle. She looked again in amazement at their innocent faces.
“This is Miss Fraser,” Grace informed them. “Say hello,” she prodded.
Maggie forced a smile. She ran a hand nervously over the mounds of baked goods. “You boys hungry? You want something?”
“Never mind that,” Grace said shar
ply, hoping too late to douse the eager lights in their eyes.
“Sorry,” said Maggie. “I just thought…”
“Maggie baked a pie,” Evy offered.
“We want pie,” the younger, Martin, began to whine.
“What kind of pie?” Grace asked curiously.
“Apple,” said Maggie.
“I want apple pie,” cried the boy and tugged on Grace’s sleeve.
Grace rolled her eyeballs and sighed. “You two won’t want a thing for dinner.”
Maggie wiped her hands nervously on her apron and then lifted up the server to cut into her pie. She remembered the story of the “lemon soup” and fervently hoped her filling held together. Carefully she lifted the two slices out onto paper plates.
“They need forks,” said Evy, relieving her of the two plates and nodding toward a box of plastic utensils under the adjoining table.
Grace and her boys tracked Maggie around the outside of the booth and eyed her as she crouched down and began to hunt under the counter for the plastic forks. “These kids never eat dinner anyway the night of the fair,” Grace sighed. She rumbled in her pocket-book and came up with two quarters. “They’re always full up on junk.”
Thanks, Maggie thought ruefully as she pawed through the box under the table. She located the forks under a pile of paper bags and brought out two of them.
“She found ’em,” Raymond observed.
“Here you go, Evy,” said Grace. She walked around the booth and offered up her two quarters.
Evy, who was standing with her back to them, the plates on the table in front of her, turned and removed her hands from her apron pockets. She accepted the quarters and deposited them in the open cash box.
Maggie straightened up and gave Evy the forks. Evy placed them on the fluted edges of the plates and then pushed the plates toward Raymond and Martin. The two boys grabbed them and began to shovel forkfuls of the pie into their mouths.
Grace examined the other items on the table. “I’d love to have some of this,” she said to Evy, “but Charley says I’m getting a spare tire.”
“Sponge cake’s not fattening,” said Evy.
“I don’t know,” said Grace. “Whose is it?”
The Unforgiven Page 13
