Cast a Road Before Me (17 page)

“I don’t know. Pale yellow maybe. Or blue. But then what if it’s a girl?”

“Blue’s always nice.”

“I suppose. Who’d want pink walls anyway?”

We fell silent. I tried to imagine the awkwardness—and anticipation—of seeing her brother.

“Am I bothering you?” Her words were tentative.

“Of course not. And I’d love to come, really. Let me just … finish what I was doing and I’ll be over.”

“Good! Mom’s baked a dessert. Apple fritter.”

I pictured Miss Wilma rocking about a hot kitchen on her bad hip. Timing indeed.

Lee was in the back rooms, working, when I arrived. Well, I huffed to myself, if he couldn’t even take the time to say hello to a guest, I didn’t need to go see him, either. My gaze fell on Connie. She looked terrible. Her hands and feet were more swollen than before, as was her face. She could barely move from the couch. I knelt beside her on the carpet. “You look so hot.”

She smiled faintly. “Heck, it’s 7:30. This is cool.”

“How about if I get a cold washcloth for your face?”

“I’ve tried that,” Miss Wilma put in, “but it just gets warm so quick. It’s hard for me to keep runnin’ back and forth.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here.” I fetched a clean washcloth from the bathroom, then went to the kitchen to search for a large pan, which I filled with ice cubes and water.

“Here.” Kneeling again beside Connie, I dunked the cloth in the water and wrung it out. She placed it over her entire face.

“Aahh, feels good.” Her lips moved under the terrycloth. A few moments later I dunked it again.

“This baby’s got to come soon; this is too hard on you.”

She put her hands over the washcloth and choked on a sudden sob.

“Oh, Connie.” I squeezed her shoulder.

“I’m so scared,” she whispered. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this by myself.”

“You’re not by yourself,” I crooned. “You’ve got Lee and your Mama and me. And Christ.”

Why had I said
that?
The words felt awkward on my tongue.

“But I got no husband. I
hate
Bart. And I
hate
Tammy; I
hate
her!”

Her outburst didn’t last long. Just time enough for Miss Wilma to move to the end of the couch and begin patting her feet. “Oh, darlin’,” she breathed. “Oh, Lord Jesus, help us.”

“I’m sorry,” Connie sniffed into the tissue I’d brought her. “I shouldn’t have said that. You must think I’m a big silly thing.”

“I don’t think you’re silly.” I pushed my knuckles playfully into her arm. “Just big.” She smiled in spite of herself. “I think you’re really strong to be going through this so well. I couldn’t do it.”

“I don’t think I’m doin’ all that well. Mama’s right; without Jesus’ help, I couldn’t do it at all.”

I brushed a strand of hair off her forehead, still cool from the cloth. “I’m glad you found him.”

“I didn’t find him; he found me.” She managed a grin. “The only thing I need to find now is a man.”

Miss Wilma and I laughed, then fell silent. I gazed from mother to daughter, both with their own aloneness, then busied myself, dunking the washcloth. Miss Wilma grew interested in a bird outside the window. Connie covered her face again. From down the hall floated noises of Lee at work.

“Well, guess it’s time for some apple fritter,” Miss Wilma announced, disappointment in her voice.

“I’ll get it.” Pushing away from the couch, I rose. Then, stupidly, stared at nothing out the window. With a sigh, I swept wet hands through my hair. “Actually, could you wait a minute? I should go say hi to Lee.”

Miss Wilma tried to appear nonchalant.

I found him throwing fragments of wood and wiring into a box, sweat running down his neck. For a moment he didn’t know I was there, and I watched him move, shoulder blades gliding under his T-shirt, muscles flexing. The mere sight of him sent sparks through me. My heart quickened. I wanted to feel those muscles, run my hands over them. He turned, though I’d made no sound, and straightened, standing stiffly. We looked at each other, and I saw why he had not called again. He’d hung his heart out on a line, and I had turned away. His vulnerability was now palpable. His expression was guarded, almost defensive. In that moment, I knew my next words would determine the path we’d take while I remained in Bradleyville. I also knew, still, that nothing
could stop my leaving. It would be so much easier on us both to cut things short right now.

“I’ve missed you,” my mouth said.

The words unfurrowed his face. In five steps he crossed the room. When he wrapped his arms around me, I didn’t mind that he smelled of sweat and dust. I held him tightly. “Connie wants me to help her with colors,” I blurted into his chest. “She needs so much, and I haven’t done enough for her. Let me help you paint this weekend. Also, I think I’ll make her some curtains.”

He looked at me with gratitude in his eyes. “You don’t have to do all that.”

I pulled back from him self-consciously and gazed around the bare walls. “I think pale yellow would be nice for both rooms, don’t you? The curtains could be sunny and bright, with a matching blanket for the baby. I’m a good seamstress; did you know that? I could make her all kinds of—”

“Hush, chatterbox.” He bent down and kissed me, his lips warm and lingering. I clung to him, barely able to breathe.

Later, over two helpings of highly cinnamoned apple fritter, a radiant Connie and I discussed decorating details, with Miss Wilma and Lee adding ideas. “Everything will be beautiful,” I said to Connie before Lee walked me to my car. “And you will be fine, you’ll see. Also, Connie,” I took her hand, “would you promise me something? When your labor starts, would you call, even if it’s the middle of the night? I’d really like to be with you.”

With tears in her eyes, she promised.

That night in bed, I thought long and hard. The next morning I went to see Miss Alice. How about we strike a deal, I told her. I’d work four or five hours a day if I could use her sewing machine for myself the rest of the time. She was delighted.

L
and sakes, what a week,” Aunt Eva declared Friday at supper as she buttered a roll. “Thomas and Jake spattin’, a July Fourth parade in the rain, and Blair Riddum’s actin’ crazier than ever, accordin’ to folks. You may a been quiet, Frank, but just about everyone who comes into the post office has a tale to tell.” She stirred her tea for no reason, ice cubes clicking. “You and Lee looked awful cute together at the parade,” she added, feigning an afterthought.

Cute
. I’d looked like a drowned rat, with one of Lee’s work shirts drippingly held over my head. The heavens had burst open while I was at his house helping Connie get a pair of her mother’s shoes on. She could not see her own feet. We’d all planned to watch the parade together, but Miss Wilma quailed at the rain, saying she’d seen enough Independence Day parades for one lifetime anyway. Connie would not be turned back; she felt housebound enough to sit through a torrent. The rain soon softened to a drizzle, allowing the parade to begin only a half hour late, which was near-record time. But I was already soaked, having stopped
to help an overwhelmed third-grade teacher mold her amorphous class into marching formation.

Everyone always came to the annual parade, which began downtown and made a beeline up Main toward Route 622. Folks from the country drove in, their cars lining side streets and the two church parking lots. The parade was the same every year, but no one cared. After all, kids were a year older and, one hoped, the town band a year better. A filly too young to show off last year would now be a full-grown mare, with patriotic ribbons braided into her mane, and two previous high school juniors would now wear the senior king and queen crowns.

Despite their latest feuding—which had given the edgy town something to laugh about, just as he had hoped—Thomas and Jake led the parade, waving side by side from one of the town’s two wailing fire engines. Bill Scutch and his family followed in the police car, and behind them fanned a cacophony of sounds and sights, from toddlers to retired school teachers, all decked out in red, white, and blue. A popular favorite was a large group of mill workers wearing wigs and housedresses while pushing IGA shopping carts and pretending to fight over groceries. Connie had to sit down on the curb, she laughed so hard.

“Why aren’t you out there?” I shouted to Lee.

“Not on your life!” He hugged me, grinning.

Remembering the parade, I couldn’t help but smile at Aunt Eva’s remark. It had been sheer fun and a welcome relief from my own conflicts and the town’s as well. I’d felt so
right
standing with Lee and Connie, seeing all the familiar faces of Bradleyville. At that moment Cincinnati seemed as far away as China. All the same, today, after five hour’s work for Miss Alice, I’d started on another dress.

Aunt Eva looked pleased with herself. But when she glanced at her husband, her animation waned. “You haven’t said one thing since ya came home, Frank. You have a bad day?”

My uncle ladled lima beans onto his plate and salted them down. His hair was still wet from a shower, and his shirt pocked with water droplets, as if he’d been too preoccupied to dry off carefully.

“Come on, Frank,” she urged.

Memories of our discussion Monday evening slowed my chewing. Here we were at the table once more, with Uncle Frank looking mighty serious. I braced myself for another encounter.

“Well,” he said slowly, cutting into a chicken breast, “it’s been a long two weeks since Lee and I talked to Riddum.”

That was it. Aunt Eva eyed him expectantly, eyebrows raised. The longer his silence, the farther over her plate she leaned.

“And?” she burst.

“I want to eat my supper, Eva,” he replied mildly. “Then we’ll talk.” Aunt Eva seemed taken aback, but acquiesced. She was suddenly very interested in her meal. Uncle Frank ate another bite of chicken, then looked at me. “You been workin’ hard, huh.”

“Yes. Lots of alterations for Miss Alice, plus I started making myself another dress. I’ve got to make Connie’s baby stuff next. And, by the way, I called my apartment manager and told him I’ll be there August third.”

“That’s good. You still excited about goin’?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Aunt Eva cut her chicken with great care, offense at my remark hovering about her like a fog. “You goin’ out with Lee again tomorrow night?” she asked after a moment.

“I don’t know. We’ve got all that painting to do. And I have to take Connie into Albertsville to choose fabric for the curtains.”

“That Lee, he’s worked so hard on those two rooms. One thing you can count on, he takes good care a family.” She looked at me pointedly.

Supper finished and the dishes cleared, Aunt Eva decided she’d waited long enough to hear from her husband. “All right,” she declared, setting a piece of carrot cake before him. “You’ve had your supper.”

Uncle Frank took his time tasting the dessert. Then he put down the fork, splayed his fingers on the table. “Eva, I don’t want my words repeated around town, you hear? I work closest to
Riddum, and my opinion might carry too much weight. I don’t want to be the one to start an out-and-out fight.”

I slid a look at Aunt Eva. “Heaven’s sake, Frank,” she huffed, one hand against her neck. “‘Course I’ll keep quiet.”

He held her gaze for a moment to show he meant business, fingers drumming silently. “All right then.” He shifted in his chair and looked upward as if searching for words.

A warning bell sounded in my head at his trepidation. Only then did I notice that Uncle Frank’s smile lines cut more deeply into his face, that his forehead was more furrowed. Where had I been the last two weeks? Self-absorbed, that’s where, and then I’d begun to spend my spare time helping Connie. It was all well and good to help a friend in need, but Uncle Frank was
family
. How difficult it must be for him, I thought, caught between his boss and the men. My problems paled beside his.

Rising, I slipped my arms around his shoulders. “It’ll be okay, Uncle Frank. If anybody can do what needs to be done, you can.”

After a moment he pulled away with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Thank you, Jessie,” he said gruffly.

We exchanged a smile. I pulled my chair close to his and sat down, a hand on his arm. Aunt Eva looked on in consternation, fingers rubbing her neck.

Uncle Frank absentmindedly pushed his dessert plate away. “Blair Riddum is a power-hungry man,” he began. “I think his ego was mightily stroked by becomin’ owner of the most important business in town. Everybody looked up to him, all knees bowed, so to speak. Now that power is being threatened by his own employees. And nobody likes him anymore, with good reason. Mentally, that man has broken with Bradleyville and its people. My feelin’ is, I don’t think he’ll change a thing come August.”

I leaned back in my chair, a slow dread creeping through my veins. Everything was supposed to work out. I didn’t want to drive away from Bradleyville afraid for my uncle and the town. And Lee. Thinking of him in the midst of an angry mob scared me to death.

As if reading my mind, Uncle Frank turned to me. “Lee’s right in the thick a this, you know.”

I locked eyes with him, a silent knowledge flowing between us, both revelation and warning. In that moment I realized he knew more about my feelings for Lee than I’d known myself. And I felt the suction of an impending storm.

I squeezed his arm. “It’ll be okay,” I whispered, feeling no reassurance.

S
weat dripped between her shoulder blades as she busily polished a pew in the sanctuary. Her knees were sore and her arm ached, but hers was an important task. She and her covolunteer had been at it for two hours, sprucing up the Baptist church for its midsummer cleaning. Too many sweaty thighs had dulled the wood. Another hour and the place should be shining
.

“You heared anything yet ‘bout a weddin’ at the Methodist church?”

“If you’re talkin’ ‘bout Jessie and Lee, you best forgit it. Eva says the gal’s still plannin’ on leavin’.”