by Leisha Kelly
“That was the worst fire I ever seen,” she said once she got close. I saw her look one way, then the other, checking to see if anybody was in sight, but I didn’t say anything at all, just set the squash at the end of one row and started to pull weeds out of the bed where we’d planted more late lettuce. Only four or five plants came up, and they didn’t look good anymore. Maybe the rain would help.
“Lester didn’t come.” Rorey said the words quickly, as though she was afraid somebody else would sneak up and hear. “He didn’t even come, Sarah. You didn’t say nothin’ to nobody, did you?”
I just looked at her. Why did she care about that so much, after people had got hurt? Why wasn’t she telling me she hoped my dad would be just fine?
“You didn’t, did you?” she pushed.
“No,” I said, hoping only one word wouldn’t betray the anger I was suddenly feeling. No, I didn’t tell! I screamed inside my head. But I should, you selfish thing!
“I watched for him,” she went on. “But he must’ve known Franky was gonna be watchin’ too. Maybe when they fought yesterday Franky told him he’d watch. You think so, Sarah?” She paused, waiting for my answer.
“How would I know?” I turned my eyes back to the lettuce bed. Go away, I told her in my mind. Leave me alone.
“Anyway, I seen Franky go out there. I seen him go in the barn. And that’s when the fire started. That’s when everybody heard Franky yellin’ an’ wakin’ people up. He was in the barn for a while, an’ I saw the smoke. It musta been his doin’.”
“I don’t think he’s said that,” I told her.
“You shouldn’t care what he says,” she answered right back. “He might try to blame Lester or anything, just to keep his own self out of trouble.”
I just stared at her for a minute. I might have replied somehow, I don’t know what. But her pa came out the back door of the house right then. I was hoping he was just getting some air, going to check on his animals or something. I didn’t want him coming over and talking to us right then, that was for sure.
He glanced our way a minute, and I felt kind of swirly-sick inside, thinking he might somehow yell at Rorey for some kind of an explanation or at me for not saying something sooner.
But what he did next was far worse. He turned his eyes toward the woodshop door, took two or three steps closer, and then hollered as loud as he could for Franky.
Oh no, I thought. He’s going to blame Franky just like Robert did. He’s going to rail on him right now.
I was glad Mr. Hammond hadn’t come over and talked to us. I was glad he hadn’t heard what Rorey had just got done telling me. But maybe he’d already heard. Maybe she’d started that kind of talk in the night, before we even got over to the fire.
“Franky!” Mr. Hammond bellowed again, and I felt something tighten inside of me. Rorey walked away. I don’t know why, but she went straight back in the house. She was out of sight before Franky came out of the woodshop. Usually Franky was quick when somebody called. But not this time, and I didn’t blame him. He had what looked like a new-carved chair rocker in his bandaged hand, and he looked his pa straight in the eye.
For a moment they were both silent. Franky spoke first. “You need me for somethin’?” he said kind of quiet. “I got me an’ Mr. Wortham’s orders to fill.”
I guess it was the wrong thing to say. Mr. Hammond looked like he could shoot sparks right out of his ears. “Franklin Drew Hammond, I know ’bout your dad-blame orders! That don’t mean you ain’t got the time if I call you, you hear me?”
I didn’t remember ever hearing Franky’s whole name shouted out like that, so I knew this was bad.
“Yes, Pa,” Franky said, standing as still as he could.
I prayed just a little. Maybe Mr. Hammond wouldn’t be too hard on him. If he had started the fire like Rorey had said, it was surely just an accident. But maybe she didn’t really know how it all happened. She hadn’t actually seen the fire start. Had she?
The awful swirly feeling was growing in my stomach, and words jumped in my head sudden. How do you know you can trust what she tells you?
No! I argued with myself. She wouldn’t lie. Not to me! Would she?
Mr. Hammond was talking, and his voice sounded low and mean. “I told you to tell Mr. and Mrs. Wortham you was sorry. But you didn’t, did you?”
“I’m sorry he got hurt,” Franky said, starting to turn away.
“That’s not what I said!”
Franky faced his pa again, and I thought him brave for looking straight in those angry eyes. “We’re all sorry, Pa,” he said. “Ain’t nobody would’ve wanted such things to—”
Mr. Hammond jumped forward, grabbed the chair piece in Franky’s hand, and threw it hard on the ground. I was scared. Kirk came up, but he didn’t interfere. I thought about getting Mom. I’d never seen Mr. Hammond beat his kids or nothing like that. But I’d never seen him look like he was looking at Franky now.
“I ain’t havin’ it! I ain’t havin’ you lie to me—”
“I didn’t set the fire, Pa,” Franky stammered. “An’ I ain’t—”
“I never said you’d do it of a purpose, boy! But you’s the clumsiest—”
Franky tried to get away, but his pa grabbed him by both arms. “I tol’ you to ’pologize! Not come over here an’ get yourself all babied by the doctor! Look at you! Fixed up like you got somethin’ broke on you! Gettin’ attention on yerself so they wouldn’t go blamin’ you—ain’t that it?”
I almost couldn’t stand hearing all this. I’d never seen Franky angry. But there was something strange in his eyes, and it scared me as much as his father’s behavior. I started for the house. I had to get Mom. She’d know what to do.
Before I got there, Franky broke away from his father. He turned back to the shop for a second but started off toward the timber instead.
“Don’t you turn your back on me!” Mr. Hammond yelled.
But Franky didn’t stop. He couldn’t run good with his limp, but he was moving pretty fast. I half expected Kirk to chase him. But he didn’t. Their pa didn’t either.
“Go on, then!” Mr. Hammond yelled. “Get! I ain’t got no more to say to you anyhow! You done cost us more’n we can even figger.”
I didn’t get to the porch. Mom was coming out, and coming out fast. Maybe Rorey’d fetched her. That was my first thought. But then I knew she hadn’t. She wouldn’t. Mom had come on her own, after hearing all the ruckus.
“How can you yell at him so?” she demanded. “Loud enough for the world to hear, and you’re not even thinking what that boy’s going through!”
“I don’t much care—”
“You need to care! You need to stop and look at yourself. Franky wouldn’t hurt a fly! He would no more lie to you than the man in the moon. Why can’t you see—”
“It’s you that don’t see, Mrs. Wortham.”
I couldn’t listen to no more arguing. I might’ve run into the house, but Robert was standing in the doorway looking fierce.
Robert. He ought to be Franky’s friend. But he was believing Mr. Hammond. I knew he was. And believing Rorey too. They were all believing Rorey. Suddenly I knew it. She’d started this blaming. She’d turned attention away from herself. I was suddenly so mad I could hardly see straight.
Instead of the house, I went running for the woods after Franky. Somebody ought to tell him that his word meant more than dust in the breeze. Mom would. I knew she would. Eventually. But Mr. Hammond had her attention now.
I wondered if I’d find him. I didn’t know how far he’d go. His pa wasn’t even giving him a chance. His pa wasn’t even thinking. Or listening.
I went around a wild rosebush and saw Franky up ahead of me, sitting under a pin oak and staring into the trees. He didn’t look up when I stopped in front of him. I didn’t know what he’d think of me following him. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I knew I ought to say something.
“Are you all right?” I finally asked.
He
still didn’t look at me. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? What are you doin’ here?”
“I didn’t think your pa was being fair. He don’t know what happened.”
Franky sounded mad. “What difference does it make to you? You don’t know neither.”
Almost I said I did. But he was right. Just because I knew Rorey had planned to be in the barn didn’t mean she caused the fire. I didn’t know what to say. I thought maybe Lester had done it, and I figured Rorey knew the truth. But she was my very best friend. I couldn’t just come out and blame her until I found out for sure. “All kinds of things can happen,” I said. “Your pa didn’t have to blame you.”
“He knew I was awake. I guess it stands to reason in his mind.”
“Why were you awake?”
“Heard a noise. Was goin’ out to check when I seen the fire.”
I stood quiet for a minute. “That’s all? You don’t know how it started?”
He suddenly looked even angrier. “If I did, don’t you think I’d tell somebody? Not that they’d listen.”
Rorey had said Franky would try to blame Lester. Rorey didn’t know him very well, it didn’t seem like.
“You oughta go back,” I told him. “They’ll be wonderin’ about you.”
He shook his head. “Your mama, maybe. But she’d be the only one.”
He stood up and started walking away. I wasn’t sure what to say. He looked so awful sad. I wanted to tell him that his pa and all his brothers cared a lot and would wonder too, but I wasn’t sure that was true. They didn’t act like it sometimes. “Lizbeth’ll be coming out probably,” I called after him. “She’d worry if you wasn’t around.”
He was walking away and not talking very loud. So I could hardly hear his answer. “Can’t go far. Got orders to fill. Nowhere to go, anyhow.”
For a minute I watched his back. He was a couple of years older than me but not any bigger. I’d never really thought of him as older, because he wasn’t like his brothers, or Robert either. He wasn’t tall. With his limp, he never seemed quite as sturdy as them. And he wasn’t out of the elementary primer yet.
But he had a job with my dad. And it suddenly didn’t seem right to keep calling him Franky like he was still a little boy.
“Frank?” I called after him. “Where are you going?” He stopped and glanced back. “I don’t know. Just away for a minute. Why are you followin’ me?”
Again, I wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t wait, so I had to run to catch up to him.
“I told you why,” I said when I got close enough. “It wasn’t fair. Your pa ought to listen to you. If you say you didn’t start no fire, that oughta be good enough—”
“Yeah, well it’s not. Not when it’s me talkin’.”
“That’s not right.”
“Maybe not. But that don’t change nothin’.” He turned and looked at me with something fiery hard in his eyes. “You watch. Pretty soon the whole countryside’ll know ’bout this. They’ll think I set the fire an’ now I’m jus’ lyin’ about it. Too clumsy to get things right and too much a coward to own up. You watch, Sarah Jean. There won’t nobody trust me ’fore long.”
He was the only one besides my mother who ever called me Sarah Jean. It might’ve bothered me some other time, but it didn’t then. I wanted to tell him that what other people thought didn’t matter. It wouldn’t, to some kids. But it did to Franky. A lot. He wasn’t much of a kid anymore. Not really. And stuff like trust was important to him. Real important.
That’s when I noticed he was looking pale. “Maybe you don’t unnerstand,” he told me. “I’m used to bein’ a laughin’stock, havin’ lessons read to me ’cause I can’t read ’em for myself. But at least folks figured I was honest an’ good with my hands. I won’t never live this down! ’Specially with your pa so bad hurt . . .”
He sat down, seeming to sink right in front of me. Clear to the ground, but not just that. He looked terrible small all of a sudden. I sat down too, just so I wouldn’t feel like I was towering over him.
I thought I better say something. “Frank,” I started to say but stopped when I saw the turmoil in his eyes.
“Pa don’t believe me,” he said. “Why would anybody else? And there ain’t nothin’ I can do about it.”
I swallowed hard, thinking of Rorey. Had she lied? Or had she just seen Franky awake and assumed it was his fault? I didn’t want to think that she’d cause all this trouble on purpose, but there was no doubt in me about Franky. He wouldn’t lie about this. Not for hundreds of thousands of dollars.
“Maybe your pa’ll change his mind,” I suggested. “He’s got to think on it some. There’s no reason for him not to believe you.”
Franky shook his head. “I guess he don’t need a reason.”
I wondered if he knew what Rorey’d said. I couldn’t help but think on it more. She said she’d seen him go into the barn. But he hadn’t said that. So I asked him straight out. “Did you go in, Frank? Did you go in the barn, before the others woke up?”
He stared at me so stormy, his strange-colored eyes looking like thunderclouds. “What difference does it make to you?”
“I—I’m just trying to understand.”
He sighed, and I realized what he must be thinking. That I didn’t believe him either.
“I seen the fire,” he said real slow. “I yelled for Pa an’ the rest. But I didn’t wait. I run to save what animals I could. But the fire was already goin’. I led the horses, but Teddy got ’way from me, jumpin’ kinda wild. They was scared, all of ’em. I unlatched what gates I could to let everythin’ else go out, but I couldn’t get ’em all. Didn’t think there was time to go back in. I shoulda kep’ watch on Berty, shoulda figured he’d do somethin’ like he did. He loves them cows. I’m sorry what happened to your pa. But it was God’s grace for ’em to live. It was smokin’ awful bad . . .”
He got up. He just stood for a minute. Then he started limping away again, toward the pond.
What he’d done started sinking into me. He’d risked his life to save what he could of his father’s livelihood. Then he pretty much risked himself all over again, helping to save my dad. And his pa didn’t even care. Wouldn’t even hear it.
“Frank!” I called after him again. “I believe you.”
He stopped. He turned just a little. He didn’t smile. But I thought I might have seen just a little less weight pressing him down.
13
Julia
I almost wished I could hog-tie that George Hammond and make him listen. How in the world could he treat his son so badly? I didn’t care who started the fire. Even if Franky had been the one, that was no excuse for such yelling and carrying on. It was just an accident.
George went walking into the barn to check on his surviving horse. I let him go, though he should have been following Franky into the timber to apologize. He’d always been too hard on Franky.
I was glad Sarah had gone. It surprised me a little because she didn’t usually say much to any of the Hammond boys. They were just Rorey’s brothers to her, never gaining any special attention. Her sense of justice must have been aroused. Maybe she was as mad about it as I was.
“Mom, do you want me to call Sarah back?” Robert suddenly asked me. “No sense her running off too. All he’s gonna do is pout.”
I turned and looked at my son, almost speechless. Why was everyone tearing Franky down today? Why wouldn’t they give him a chance?
“I ought to send you after the both of them,” I said. “You need to think about this, Robert. You need to consider whether it’s right to condemn someone with no evidence at all.”
“There is evidence. Besides his pa’s word. There’s a witness, Mom.”
“What witness?”
“Rorey. She seen him. He set the fire. Going in the barn with a lantern. That’s how it happened. And it almost got Dad killed. So I don’t think nobody’s being too hard on him.”
For a moment I couldn’t answer him. If the question came dow
n to Rorey’s word or Franky’s, which would be believed?
“Robert, you know I can’t prove right now what happened. Does it really matter? It was an accident either way.”
“It matters, Mom. Because he won’t own up. It ain’t so hard, forgivin’ an accident, but he’s tryin’ to lie his way out. An’ that makes him no more’n a yellow-bellied coward. I think that’s what’s got his pa so riled.”
“Rorey could be mistaken.”
“He was up, Mom. He said that himself. He was in the barn. There ain’t no other way.”
I looked at my son, thinking of him in the woodshop with Franky a couple of Christmases back. They’d worked so hard together on a little truck for Berty. I’d thought that would be the beginning of a greater friendship between them. “Franky is no liar, Robert. You should know that.”
He shook his head at me. “I don’t know nothing right now.”
He walked away. And I felt like screaming. Yesterday I thought our lives were coming along so very well as we gathered for a birthday feast. How could we so soon be shaken into pieces?
I almost headed to the woods myself after Franky and Sarah, but little Georgie was yelling over something, baby Rosemary was fussy, and somebody else was driving up our lane. They’d be all right, I decided. Sarah and Franky both had good enough heads on their shoulders. Maybe they’d talk it out and come to the sensible conclusion that other people’s unpleasant attitudes didn’t matter to a hill of beans.
It was the pastor coming. My spirits lifted a bit just recognizing his car. And when I noticed that Juanita was with him, I felt even better. She was a blessing to have around. She made herself helpful in so many ways. Just as good, George would surely listen to the pastor, even if he wouldn’t listen to anyone else.
I walked to meet them, thanking God for giving us their friendship. Juanita waved before the car even stopped.
“How is everyone?” Pastor called as he parked beside the rosebush.
It was hard not to answer with a flood of tears. “Samuel’s hurt, and George has run Franky off, blaming him for the fire.”
