by Janice Hanna
“Still, you’re not grown. There is no way Mrs. Hannigan would have done such a thing.” Rena took a couple steps toward the register, but Henry took her by the arm.
“Aw, c’mon, Miz Rena. Have a heart. I stole it from Joe, the barber.”
“W–what?” All the encouraging words the doctor had spoken over her fizzled away at this confession.
“He had it comin’.” Henry’s eyes narrowed to slits. “He’s been really mean to us.”
“Your thieving ways are inexcusable,” she said. “And now you’ve put me in a terrible predicament. We have to go to the barbershop at once and make apologies. But first I have to buy a pouch of chewing tobacco to replace the one you stole. You can pay me back for it by doing extra chores around the house, starting with replacing the boards on the front steps.”
He groaned and slapped himself on the head. “You gonna use me like a slave? That’s what Mrs. Wabash usta do. She used me up and spit me out. Then she left. You gonna use me up and spit me out then take off when that new director comes in the spring?”
“No, but I am going to make you pay for what you took. In the meantime, come to the register with me. I need to buy more tobacco for Joe.”
He shuffled along beside her as she made her way to the front of the store.
She drew in a deep breath and faced the store clerk. “Mrs. Hannigan, I know it won’t make much sense to you—and please don’t ask why I’m doing this—but I have to buy a package of…” She turned and looked at Henry.
He mumbled, “Red Man chewin’ tobacco.”
“Red Man chewing tobacco,” Rena repeated.
Behind her, the sound of children’s voices shook the place. Rena turned and was stunned to discover Oliver standing there with the twins at his side. The twins rambled on about the candies they wished they could purchase but spoke so fast that she could hardly make sense of their words through the heavy brogue.
Next to them, the three brothers, Mikey, Bubba, and Tree, were shoving each other and cursing. Mochni had taken to doing some sort of rain dance that included whooping and hollering. This, of course, had snagged the attention of other shoppers, mostly women who looked terrified.
Rena took a step in the direction of the boys. “W–what are you doing here?”
“We followed Henry.” Tree wiped his runny nose on his shirtsleeve.
“Saw him in the barbershop,” Bubba added. “Going through dumb old Joe’s stuff.”
“You snitch. I’ll get you.” Henry lit into Bubba and knocked him to the floor. This, of course, got Mikey and Tree riled up. They joined the fight on their brother’s behalf, claiming they were going to take off Henry’s head for messing with their brother.
Mochni stayed out of it, as did the twins, who were more interested in scouring the store for things to play with. In the meantime, Henry barreled back hard with his fist and bumped a shelf holding several jams and jellies. The shelf came crashing down on top of the boys, which instantly put an end to their fight.
Mrs. Hannigan stood at the register with her mouth agape. Several customers began to talk at once, many scolding the boys or attempting to shoo them out of the store. Rena hardly had a chance to collect her thoughts before the conversations turned ugly.
She leaned down and spoke to the whole group of them. “Boys—all but Henry—go on back to the house. Take Lilly with you. She is up at the counter near the candy jars. I’ll be along shortly with my purchases.”
“Yes’m.” Bubba wiped his bloody nose, and Tree rubbed his shoulder.
Henry rose, albeit slowly, and limped his way outside the store, muttering something about waiting outside.
Moments later Lilly drew near, looking concerned. “Can I still have my lollipop?”
“Yes, but it’s clear that several of the boys will not be getting any.”
Tree groaned and slapped himself in the head. “Aw, shucks. Look what you done, fellas. Gone and got us in trouble again. And I wanted that candy too.”
They grumbled all the way out the door.
A visible sigh arose when the crowd of children disappeared from view. The adults resumed their conversations, most about how unruly the youngsters had been. Rena couldn’t help but notice their frustration with the children, but who could blame them? She could only imagine what Molly Harris would say, once word of this got back to her. Her “Fresh as a Daisy” campaign would get just the fuel it needed.
Oh well. She had no time to worry about that right now. Rena went to work at once, helping Mr. Hannigan right the shelf while Mrs. Hannigan looked on. Many of the jars of jams and jellies were broken, but the ones that weren’t were stacked willy-nilly onto the top shelf. Rena fought the urge to cry as she looked around at the mess.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” she managed at last. “I will pay you for the damaged goods, naturally.” She reached for her purse.
Mrs. Hannigan drew near. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t ask that of you, but those jars were just delivered. Mrs. Ramsey worked for days to get them ready, and she really needs the income they bring. She’s counting on it, in fact.”
“Of course. I’ll cover the cost when I pay for my merchandise.” Rena walked to the register and gazed down at the candy. She’d wanted to surprise the children, but it all seemed so pointless now.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Mrs. Hannigan asked and then offered what appeared to be a forced smile.
“Yes. I need some trim pieces for the dresses I’m sewing. And several cloves of garlic.”
“I have some beautiful bits of lace right here.” Mrs. Hannigan reached under the glass counter and pulled out a tray. “Pick out what you like while I go fetch the garlic cloves.” She disappeared into the back room, but not before making apologies to another customer for the chaos that had just taken place.
Rena kept a watchful eye on Henry through the store’s large plate-glass window while she glanced at the lace pieces. Yes, there were quite a few here that might work. And some lovely buttons, as well. She could almost imagine the girls in their new dresses now.
Mrs. Hannigan returned with several cloves of garlic. “All right. Now, is there anything else you need?”
Rena had just started to respond with a “No” when something occurred to her. “Has the postman gone for the day? I need to check the mail. I meant to come by earlier in the week but have been so busy.”
“He’s already gone, but I can give you your mail,” Mrs. Hannigan said. “You’ve got letters aplenty. I’ve been holding them for you.”
Rena glanced at Henry once again. He’d started gabbing with one of the local merchants. She might as well look over the stack of letters here. Once she got home, the children would be too much of a distraction.
She glanced through them all, smiling when she saw one from Sadie. Another one from Reuben caught her eye as well. Still, there was one envelope that stood out above all others, but not because of the sender. It smelled of honeysuckle.
“Wonder who this one’s from.” She ripped it open and unfolded the letter inside. Her heart skipped a beat as she read:
My Dear Miss Jewel,
Rarely do I think of your name without pondering that most precious jewel of all, the diamond. Each facet sets off its own glow—in much the same way you do, when you enter a room.
Rena’s heart nearly stopped beating as she read those words. The letter began to tremble in her hand. Who had sent this? The words sounded like something Jonathan might say, but did he really have such feelings for her? She read on:
Our conversation in the kitchen has stirred something in my heart I’ve not felt in quite some time. And though I cannot bring myself to speak the words aloud, I now possess feelings for you that I have not felt since my dear wife passed —God rest her soul. If you would allow me to admire you from afar while I work up the courage to speak my mind, I would be overcome with happiness.
Truly yours, Gene Wyatt
The letter now vibrated so violently, she nearly
dropped it.
“Are you all right, Miss Jewel?” Mrs. Hannigan’s voice served as a reminder that she was still in a very public place, one where she couldn’t fully absorb the words in this letter.
“I…I…” Rena couldn’t manage anything else.
“Would you like me to add these to the cost of the jams and jellies?” Mrs. Hannigan held up her items, which she barely glanced at.
“Oh…what? I, well, sure. Wrap them up for me, please.” She fumbled in her purse, coming up with the necessary money.
Henry showed up at that moment, and she shoved the letter into her skirt pocket. To have one of the children find the letter would be humiliating at best. Why, they would have a field day with this!
“We need to go now.” She reached for the package, but Henry took it instead.
“I’ll carry it, Miss Rena.”
“Thank you.” She fumbled with the other mail pieces, finally pressing them all into her pocket. “We’ve got to get home right away. No dawdling.”
“But I thought you said…”
“Don’t argue with me now, Henry. I’ve got to get home, and the sooner, the better.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She wondered at the crooked grin that lit his face but didn’t have time to ask about it. No, only one thing consumed her thoughts at the moment. Gene Wyatt had feelings for her. Feelings he’d openly admitted in the letter she now carried in her pocket.
Oh, wonder of wonders! Finally! At least one thing was going right today, one very important thing.
Her story was coming true. She could hardly wait to see what adventures the next chapter held. With her head held high, she marched out of the general store and began the journey toward home.
On the first Saturday in December, Gene stopped off at the newspaper office before heading home. He had some business to take care of with Jonathan Brewer. He found the newspaperman seated in a chair outside his office, which was just off the town square. Joe sat beside him, talkative as usual.
Gene greeted them with a nod.
“What brings you by, Sheriff?” Joe asked.
“Wanted to thank Brewer personally.” Gene extended his hand and Jonathan gave it a firm shake.
“What are you thanking me for?”
Gene chuckled and withdrew his hand. “Guess it would be helpful if I told you. That article you ran about the bank robbery in Tushka helped county officials nab the other robber. Someone turned him in, based on your description.”
“Well, it was the least I could do. Glad to be of service.” Jonathan settled back into his chair and gestured for Gene to take the empty chair next to Joe.
Gene took the proffered chair and leaned back, exhausted after several days of dealing with paperwork. Though everything inside of him wanted to dislike Jonathan, he couldn’t help but admire the man.
“Anything else, Gene?” The newspaperman gazed at him. “The reporter in me seems to think you’ve got something else on your mind.”
“Guess I do.” He squirmed in his chair. “I really wanted to come by and thank you for those pieces you’re running each day on child-rearing. At first I wasn’t sure they would help, but I get the point now. Several folks have told me that they’re softening toward the children.”
“Hope it sticks,” Jonathan said.
“I’ll confess, those kids are growin’ on me,” Joe said. He lowered his voice to add, “Like a fungus.”
Jonathan and Gene erupted in laughter.
“I just wrote another article, one that’s sure to set the mayor’s hair on fire.”
“What hair?” Joe asked. “The man’s bald as a billiard ball.”
This got another laugh out of the men. Jonathan passed the paper Gene’s way.
Gene could hardly believe his eyes as he read the well-written piece, which shed light on the children’s plight and the needs at the orphanage.
“This is brilliant, Jonathan. The perfect counter-position to Molly’s ‘Fresh as a Daisy’ campaign, and one sure to turn the hearts of the townspeople to the children.”
“Glad someone thinks it’s brilliant,” Joe said. “And by the way, Mayor Albright already read it this morning and he’s fit to be tied. Says this article is an invitation to dance with the devil, and he refuses to dance.”
“Hmm. Well, I daresay, we’ve been dancing with the devil all along,” Jonathan said. “To my way of thinking, dealing with the problem head-on is a better solution than ignoring it or hoping it will go away.”
Gene had just started to respond when Old Man Tucker approached, looking a bit winded.
“Howdy, fellas.” Tucker tipped his hat.
“Howdy, yourself.” Gene smiled. “What’s new around town this Saturday? I always look forward to your reports.”
“Well, let’s see now. Donald Johnson has the shingles, and his wife, Maybelle, is down with the flu. I heard from Doc Moseley that we might have an epidemic of pinworms goin’ ’round too.”
“Any good news to speak of?” Jonathan asked.
“Well, not exactly good, but I have some interesting news about some goings-on at the general store less than an hour ago.” Tucker leaned against the wall and shook his head. “A real mess.”
“What’s that?” Gene asked.
“Mrs. Hannigan tells me that Miss Jewel came in today. There was some sort of commotion with the children.”
Gene groaned. “So soon? I’d hoped the children would keep things calm for a while.”
“Well, that wasn’t the real story.” Old Man Tucker leaned in close. “Real story is about Miss Jewel. Katie Hannigan says Miss Rena Jewel bought a pouch of Red Man chewing tobacco from her.”
“Chewing tobacco?” Gene and Jonathan spoke in unison.
“Yep.” Old Man Tucker leaned back against the wall, as if he’d just delivered the best punch line in the world.
“I don’t know what to make of it.” Jonathan looked perplexed.
Gene shook his head. Something about this story seemed fishy. “You talked to Mrs. Hannigan yourself?”
“Well, no.” Old Man Tucker scratched his head. “Not exactly. I heard it from Donald Johnson, who heard it from the mayor’s wife, who heard it from Molly Harris. If’n you don’t believe me, ask Mrs. Hannigan. She’ll tell you. Miss Jewel bought a pouch of Red Man chewing tobacco just a short time ago.”
“There’s got to be some mistake.” And then from across the street, he caught a glimpse of the very person they were talking about. Rena Jewel, looking quite fetching in a new dress.
“Well, there she is.” Old Man Tucker let out a whistle. “And don’t she look perty today? Don’t look the sort to be chewin’ and chawin’, now, does she?”
“No.” Gene took a couple of steps toward her but stopped, unsure of what he would say to her if given the opportunity. After all, the story he’d heard was just a rumor. Besides, Henry was with her. No point in dragging the child into the woman’s sin…if indeed it was a sin.
Still, what kind of woman chewed tobacco? Certainly not a good, upstanding one…one who had claimed in her original letter to be temperate in every way. On the other hand, if she’d purchased the chewing tobacco for one of the boys, they had an even bigger problem on their hands, didn’t they? Surely she would never do that…right?
Old Man Tucker gazed at Miss Jewel with a look of admiration in his eye. “I daresay there’s a lot about that woman we don’t know. She’s a mystery, that one. But I aim to figure her out.” He quirked a brow. “And speaking of figures, she’s got a nice one, don’tcha think?”
Gene found himself too preoccupied to respond. Miss Jewel was, indeed, a mystery. Why would a woman—a genteel, Southern woman—be buying chewing tobacco?
He didn’t have a clue. But he made it his mission to find out.
Chapter Sixteen
TIPS FOR DEALING WITH UNRULY YOUNG’UNS—Folks ’round these-here parts call me Old Man Tucker. Ain’t never understood the name, what with me only being sixty-seven and all. Do
n’t they know “old” is a long way off? Guess some folks is ready to spit nails over my letter to the editor at that-there Atoka County Register. Cain’t blame me. Jonathan Brewer brought up the subject of the children from the orphanage, and I just gave him my mind. What was left of it, anyhow. Said my piece. Folks ’round here know how I feel about the children, anyway. I’d be just as happy if Mayor Albright picked up that orphanage and moved it to another city. Then, for once, I could sleep at night without wonderin’ what those kids was gonna do to me the next day.
—James Tucker, Farmer
Rena spent the next twenty-four hours trying to come up with recipes that would include garlic…and trying to make sense of the letter she had received from Gene. Neither effort seemed to be paying off, particularly the issue of the letter. On Sunday morning before church she read it over and over again, just to make sure she had not misunderstood its contents.
No. There was no denying the obvious. The man had declared his feelings and would be waiting on a response. But how would she go about it? And what would she say? Why, she barely knew him, after all. Sure, they’d had that one conversation in the kitchen, but how could she declare her affections after one chat?
The children were quiet that Sunday morning. Suspiciously quiet. They came and went from Sunday school, their behavior better than ever before. Why this made her nervous, she could not say. She should be celebrating the fact but could not seem to relax.
Seeing Gene in church did little to calm her nerves, particularly when she noticed his anxious demeanor. He clearly had something on his mind. She could tell from the way he stared at her. The whole thing made her a bit uneasy. Thank goodness Jonathan and Jenny distracted him. Otherwise, she might’ve had to face him on the church steps in front of the whole congregation. She made it back to the house in time to serve the garlic-ladened stew, which the children hated. She felt so bad about it that she offered them sandwiches after the fact.
Just as the meal ended, a gagging sound startled her. She looked over to see Oliver hunched forward, clutching his belly. Rena rose and rushed his way just in time to see him lose the stew all over the dining-room carpet. She flew into action, racing for the kitchen to fetch dishcloths to clean up the mess. From inside the kitchen she heard the sound of children’s laughter. A quick peek back inside the dining room clued her in to the fact that he wasn’t sick at all. He’d hidden a hot water bottle under his shirt. The little stinker had planned the whole thing. He had perfect timing, considering the awful stew. She had to give it to him.
