There was my sign. My body went numb.
The cashier was trying to get me to pay, but I was aghast. I swallowed hard. “What kind of lamp?” I asked Grover.
“One of them kerosene kind you use in a power out.”
“They don’t know if that was it yet?”
“No, like I said, it was probably lightning. That sure was a wicked storm. My antenna got hit, blew out my cable.”
I quickly paid the cashier and left the store.
When I got to Peaceful Pastures, they were having a Bible class. I walked by the dining room, saw Grandma sitting there, thumbing through the pages of the New Testament. She was sitting next to Earl.
I passed through to the kitchen. Hazel was cleaning out the meat freezer.
“Hi, Fern,” she said, stacking ground round. “Esther’s in there studying Luke. It’s her way of making up for all the trouble she causes around here.”
“I actually came to ask you something.”
“What is it you need?”
“Well, I’ve been wondering about Clem.”
Hazel slammed the freezer door shut, threw her rag in a bin. “What about him?”
“Wasn’t Daddy going to help him read his insurance policy?”
“Yeah, they read it. Doesn’t seem to be any question about it though. Clem was over one night last week, believe it was Thursday.”
“What’s the deal, then?”
“Well, evidently, he still had a ten-year loan left on the station. As long as the cause of the fire turns out to be a natural act or accidental, the mortgage company gets their share, Clem gets his equity. Whenever the case is arson, and there’s no suspicion of the owner, then the same applies. But if there’s any doubt there was foul play on Clem’s part, then the mortgage company gets what’s coming to them, but Clem gets nothing.”
“Well, what have they come up with so far?”
“There’s two theories I’m hearing.” Hazel craned her neck, looked towards the kitchen door.
Mossie had wheeled in.
“Mossie, it ain’t time to eat, go on back out there and join the prayer meeting. I’ll come get you for lunch,” said Hazel. “They’re always wheeling or strolling through back here, and they’ve been told it’s off premises.”
“What are the two theories?”
Hazel frowned at me. “One is that lightning struck something, maybe the cash register, something near the front entrance. They’ve been able to detect evidence of that. The other is that some kerosene lamp was burning, tipped over next to some grease rags, some old towels.”
“So what are they waiting on?” I asked, biting my lip. “To make the decision?”
“Problem is Clem claims he kept that lamp in the garage, don’t know how it got over by the cash register where they found it. The investigators can’t find no traces of breaking and entry, though.”
“Then what’s the holdup?” I could feel myself starting to sweat under my wool sweater.
“You know how those firemen are, especially in this little old town. They’re so pokey, I don’t know how they got down there fast enough to put out the fire in the first place.” Hazel walked over to the dishwasher, loaded some coffee cups and saucers. “Why are you so hard-pressed about all this?”
“I’m just curious.” I paced the tiled floor.
“You look like you’re on pins and needles.”
“I just want everything to work out for him, that’s all.”
“I’m sure it will. He’s supposed to know something before the holiday.” She started the coffeemaker. “We serve coffee and cookies after this prayer meeting breaks up.”
“So he’ll know by Thursday?”
“Supposed to. I’ll tell you this, though.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “There’s some who believe the old guy started it himself just to get the money. Of course that’s a rumor, some folks would say anything just to stir up some trouble.” She looked around. “It would make sense, though, you know, to do something like that.”
The anger inside me was almost instant; my blood was starting to boil. “Clem would never, absolutely never do something like that. He is the most honest man I’ve ever known in my life.”
“What is the matter with you? You came flying in here like you had some emergency.” Hazel stacked cups on a tray, stood in front of me to stop my pacing. “Besides, I didn’t say he did it, I’m just telling you what I heard. Calm down. It’ll all work out for him. Shake it off.”
I stared at the floor.
“Now, Fern, you coming down to the house for dinner Thursday?” she asked, passing through the swinging doors to the dining room.
For the brief moment she was gone, I took a deep breath to collect myself. “I don’t know,” I said when she came back. “Bird says Daddy’s still mad, I’m pretty much fallen from grace. I doubt I’m welcome.”
Hazel tisked. “Yeah, I wanted to bring your grandma home that day, too, but I know what would happen.”
“You’re right about that. Never can tell what’s going to happen at the dinner table in that house,” I said.
“Your daddy is sure a mess. He’s so bitter, sulks all the time. He didn’t used to be like that, you know. Back in West Carrollton, he was always on the go, much more pleasant to be around.”
“It’s been since he lost our farm.”
“I guess that’s it. But life goes on. He’s got to let go of the past. Lord knows I try to. Things could be worse for him, you know. At least he’s got his job, health, his family to be thankful for. This is the time of year to be remembering all that.”
“Has he heard any more about layoffs?”
“No news.” She filled another tray of coffee cups. “I’ve got to get out there. Do you want to have a snack with your grandma?”
“I’ll stick my head in, say hello. But I have groceries in the car.”
“I’ll see if I can feel your folks out about you coming over for dinner. I’ll let you know.”
“Let me know how it goes with Clem, too.”
“Bye now.”
The whole way home, a lamplight kept flickering in my head. The light shone on my weakness, and I realized then, the weight of my sin. That night, I dreamed I burned up in flames.
36. Out of Line
Sunday evening I got my period and we got our first snowfall. I looked out the bathroom window and saw Birdie walking up the road with Heidi.
“Can you keep her?” she asked, shivering in my doorway.
“What do you mean?” I asked, buttoning my jeans.
“She’s going to get cold out in the snow with her hair still not all grown back.” Birdie pointed to Heidi’s bald spot. “You can keep her in the house for company.”
“Birdie, Heidi’s never been a house dog, she won’t like it being cooped up in here.”
“I gave her a bubble bath in the basement. She’s clean.”
Heidi sniffed around the living room, found me, nudged my hand with her head. Her tail flapped, and her red coat shone like I’d never seen it.
“She misses you, too,” said Birdie.
I sighed, sat down in the only chair. “I guess she couldn’t hurt herself on anything in here, nothing for her to run into but this chair.” I took Birdie’s raincoat, hung it behind the door. “What did Daddy say about it, though? I don’t want to stir up any more trouble than I already have.”
“He don’t care. He never hunts her no more anyway. She’s mine now, he said.”
“I guess it’s all right.” I went in the bedroom, came back with an old sheet to make Heidi a bed. “Here’s a key to the house,” I said. “Let her out to pee after school tomorrow. And don’t lose it.”
Birdie squeezed the key into the back pocket of her corduroys.
“Go put some water down for her,” I said. “Are you hungry?”
“We just ate.”
“Well, I need to eat. Come talk to me in the kitchen.” I opened a can of tomato soup, heated it up on the stove. Then I fixed
a grilled cheese sandwich. “Would you like some ice cream? I have Rocky Road.”
“Ice cream? It’s freezing in here.” She folded her arms, hugging herself.
“I have the heat turned down low to save money. You want hot chocolate instead, then? I have cocoa mix.”
She nodded.
I found her a coloring book and crayons, and set her up on the kitchen floor with a book to use as a surface.
She complained that I didn’t have a TV set for her to watch, but I argued that was too expensive. “I don’t watch TV shows anyway,” I said. In my opinion, she watched too much of it. It was warping her mind.
She colored as I boiled the water, then she got up, opened the refrigerator, browsed. “Can I have that Pepsi?”
“No, Birdie, that’s the one Grandma saved that Elmer opened just before he died. I found it still in there when I moved in. I figured out it’s four years old. That would taste awful, wouldn’t it?” I laughed. “I guess that’s how she holds on to the past.”
“Hazel says to look only forward, not back,” Birdie said, still holding the fridge door wide open.
“And she’s right, now shut that. You’re letting all the cold air out.”
“You don’t have much food in here.”
“I don’t need much.”
“Thursday’s Thanksgiving,” she said.
The teapot whistled.
“I know,” I said. “You get a couple of days off from school, don’t you? That’ll be nice.” I mixed her hot chocolate and ate my sandwich, standing at the counter. I still didn’t have a table.
“Are you coming over for turkey?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Florabelle is, with Daisy.”
“Isn’t Jason coming with them?”
“He can’t get off. Says he’s got to work that day for overtime.”
“He’ll get time and a half, they probably do need the extra money,” I said, mouth full.
“Are you working, too?”
“No, I’m off Thursday and Friday. Long weekend.” I was hoping to spend it with Culler, but I didn’t want to mention him to Birdie, not until everything blew over.
“Then why don’t you come over for dinner?” she asked. “Momma already bought a twelve-pound turkey.”
“She’ll have to freeze a lot of it.”
Birdie slurped cocoa, sulked.
“Did Daddy mention he wanted me to come?”
“He didn’t say it, but you should.”
“We’ll see. I don’t know if he or Momma want me to. They’re both still pretty sore at me for acting out of line last week.”
“Daddy thinks you do stuff on purpose just to aggravate him.”
“You know that’s not true, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“How’s Momma doing?”
Birdie sat quiet a moment, concentrated on the picture she was coloring. “She cries a lot.”
“Has she been sick?”
“No, just depressed over Daddy. He hasn’t talked to anybody but Clem for a whole week. He don’t even turn grace over at the table anymore. Spends all his time in his gun room.”
“How does he treat you?” I asked.
“Okay, I guess. Damn.”
“Bird!” I said, having never heard her swear before.
“I went out of the lines.” She ripped the page out of the book, crumpled it up, and started to cry.
I put my plate in the sink and sat down beside her. “I know it’s hard to be around all that tension in the house. Unfortunately, though, part of growing up is having to try and understand it all. Realize why people act and react the way they do. I had to learn to understand it, I still have to try real hard sometimes, and I am grown up.”
“I wish I could live here with you,” she said softly.
“So do I, but you still need Momma.”
“Don’t you need her no more?”
“Yes, I do. But as I was saying, sometimes things just don’t make sense. I wish I could talk to her, still be there with you all. I just have to try and understand how she feels and wait patiently until she’s ready to forgive me.”
“I don’t like it there anymore. There’s no one to talk to. I miss Grandma, too.”
“When did you see her last?”
“At her pageant.”
“I’ll take you up to visit her soon. I promise. Now, here, color another picture. And don’t worry about staying in the lines. It’s okay to go outside them sometimes, can’t always be perfect.”
Birdie nodded, sniffled, started to color. “Daddy still hates Grandma,” she said, choosing a crayon.
“No, he doesn’t. It’s just that some people don’t know how to let go of their anger and forgive. That’s something else you have to learn growing up.”
“There’s too much.” She had the sobs. “I’ll just stay little.” A tear splashed on her picture.
I hugged her close. We sat huddled together, listening to the soft snow fall on the rooftop.
I looked at the stove clock; it was nine-thirty. “It’s a school night,” I said. “Let’s get you home. Tell you what, if I can’t make it Thanksgiving for some reason, you can come up later that night, after dinner, spend the night with me.”
“The whole night?”
“The whole night, anytime you want.”
This invitation seemed to satisfy her, so she stood up, put her picture on my refrigerator. It was two rabbits, hiding in a hollow from a bear. She’d colored the bear black, written “Daddy” beneath it.
37. Straying The Flock
Someone brought in a black sheep with anthrax, and I had to burn the carcass. When the farmer carried it in, the sheep was convulsing and burning up with fever. It only lived another fifteen minutes.
I knew humans could get the disease by exposure to infected animals, and I tried to stay away from it when the old guy brought him in. He suspected that the sheep had strayed the flock and eaten some contaminated grass somewhere. Our doctors advised him to bring the well ones in for vaccination.
Wearing gloves and a mask, I took the animal back to the crematory. This was the part of the job I hated, but just lately, I’d been getting used to it. Everything had to die, I told myself, and what we were doing at the clinic was trying to delay the inevitable.
But now the furnace, or any fire, made me think of Clem’s dilemma. I was so bothered, wondering what the investigators would define as the cause of the fire. As the flames sizzled inside the oven, I could hear in my head the workbench, the supply shelves, the tool rack, all of it crackling in flames. I could smell the rubber burning from the tire pile. I could see Culler’s bare chest, aglow in the lantern light.
I waited until the bones were few, crushed and sacked them. I would wait and see what the fire chief determined, then I would have to come forward. I owed it to Clem.
When I got home that evening, Birdie was sitting on my front stoop with the mail. She carried it up from the house every day. Heidi was running around the yard, leaving tracks in the snow. You could see her breath fog the cold air.
“Did the phone company show up?”
Birdie nodded. She was bundled up in a red wool coat that used to be mine.
We kicked the snow off our boots and went inside.
“Here,” she said. “It’s from Transylvania University.”
With my coat still on, I opened the envelope. It was a letter of acceptance; I could begin taking classes in the spring.
“Bird,” I said, beaming. “This is real good news.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a letter saying that I can attend their school. That means I can take a class that would help me learn more about what I do at the animal clinic.”
“Will you have to move there?”
“I don’t know.” I hadn’t really thought about that. Lexington was over an hour’s drive. “I’ll worry about that later. Do me a favor, though, don’t tell anyone. I mean no one. I want to keep it a secret just fo
r a little while, okay?”
She nodded.
“Good girl.”
Birdie hadn’t taken her coat off and turned to go. “I have homework,” she said. “We have a spelling test tomorrow, then no more school until Monday.”
“Do you want me to make flash cards?”
“I’ll do them.”
“Well, all right then, don’t miss any of them.”
“Bye, Heidi,” she said, petting her. “Go lie in your bed.”
Heidi obeyed her, made her way to her sheet, curled up and sighed.
“Fern?”
“What, Bird?”
“Don’t come Thanksgiving. Daddy says no.”
Her words stung, but I didn’t want her to know. I looked at Heidi in the corner and spoke. “Then you just come up that night like we planned. Spend the night. Heidi would like that.”
She nodded, closed the door.
My eyes watered as I changed into jeans and a sweat shirt. I had never spent a holiday away from my family before and wasn’t ready to do so. I felt so estranged, so alone, but I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself. I had made a mistake and would have to suffer the consequences.
Maybe I could cook my own Thanksgiving dinner, invite Culler and Connie over to celebrate. I would call and tell him the news. I had not talked to him and really needed to. I wanted the comfort and wanted to discuss some of the things I’d talked about with Hazel, about taking things slower. But I had made up my mind not to mention the lantern, not until everything was settled.
I picked up my new phone and dialed his number. His roommate answered, said he expected Culler any time now from class. I gave him my new number, told him to have him call me as soon as he got in. I knew he’d be happy about the acceptance letter. He’d be proud of me for trying, in the first place.
I made myself an omelet and tried to read a book to keep my mind off Clem, off the sheep, off fire, off Daddy, off everything.
The house was chilly, and I turned the heat up some, but the frosted air seeped in through the floors. Cinder blocks supported the house two feet off the ground. Although I was cold, I was almost thankful for no fireplace.
At ten o’clock, Culler still hadn’t called, and I was getting tired. I wrapped the blanket I’d been lying on around me, walked outside with Heidi. Once out, she just stood there in the snow, with a blank look on her face. I tried to coax her to go, as long as I could stand the cold, then brought her back in. She ran straight to her bed and curled up, shivering.
Natural Bridges Page 20
