Cast a Road Before Me (6 page)

T
he following morning, across town, two middle-aged women stood in a sweltering kitchen, canning green beans. Tackling the task together made the hot work more enjoyable, and the opportunity to gossip was just too good to pass up
.

“You hear Jessie Callum’s back in town? Got here yesterday.”

“Eva must be happy.”

“Sorta sad too. ‘Cause once she leaves again, it’ll be for good.” The woman stood at her sink, expertly popping beans as her eyes wandered occasionally over the rolling farmland out the window. In the distance, formidable and smoky blue, rose the Appalachians
.

“I like Jessie. So dainty and sweet.”

“And one strong girl, after all she’s been through.” The woman glanced at her neighbor, who was carefully placing canning jars and lids into boiling water with a long pair of tongs, face shiny over the heat. Steam wafted from the stove and hung like a damp, hot cloud, making both women sweat. “She got that job she wanted, you know. Plus she’s bound and determined to volunteer in that poorhouse where her mama worked her fingers to the bone. Least that’s what Eva tol’ me.”

“Well, Jessie’s always wanted to go back to Cincinnati, anyway.”

“I know. I suppose we should be happy for her; she’s come a long way. I do feel sorry for Eva and Frank though. Havin’ to see her leave Bradleyville for good, an’ all.”

Her friend laughed. “If I know Eva, she’s schemin’ already to keep that girl in town.”

A
unt Eva stuck her head around my bedroom door. “Well, Jessie, it’s time for some visitin’, what do ya say?”

I straightened up from making my bed. “Good grief, I only got here last night.”

“And this is Saturday,” she responded. “Everybody’s home from work. People know you’re here. They’ll be expectin’ to see you.”

“Oh, brother.” Under Aunt Eva’s persistence, I knew claiming fatigue would get me nowhere. But I really didn’t want to see anyone just yet. Thomas had managed to schedule a meeting with Blair Riddum that morning, and according to Aunt Eva, who’d probably been on the phone since dawn, the town was holding its collective breath. It felt as though a cloud of doom had descended. I did not relish the thought of conversations about the sawmill problems.

“Don’t you want to wait by the phone to hear what happens?” I asked.

“Oh, heavens, no!” My aunt fluttered a hand in the air. “Sittin’ around and waitin’ will drive me plumb crazy. Look at your uncle—he rode into Albertsville with a neighbor, sayin’ he had to
go to the big hardware store. Pshaw. He doesn’t need anything he can’t get right here in town; he’s just full a worry and had to find somethin’ to do.”

“He didn’t look all that worried.”

She plopped onto my bed with a sigh. “You don’t know your uncle as well’s I do. He always
looks
calm, but he’s worried, all right.” Automatically, she leaned aside to fluff up my pillow. “And so am I, which is why I got to keep busy too.” The pillow still wasn’t quite right, so she punched it twice with her fist as she continued. “That’s why I thought you and I could go see some folks.”

A vague irritation washed over me. “Who do you want to visit?”

Her face brightened, the pillow forgotten. I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head as she geared up for my social re-entrance into Bradleyville society. “Let’s see. You must drop in on Estelle Matthews. Little Celia’s dyin’ to see you again; it’s been since Easter. And you haven’t seen baby Kevin yet. ‘Course,” she tapped her cheek, “that requires takin’ a present, so we’ll have to stop by the dime store.”

What a natural she was, I thought. Undeniably in line with social etiquette. But I knew her too well. Time it right, she knew, and we’d hit the Matthews’s house just about when Thomas arrived home from his meeting. She’d be the first to hear. The Matthews’s was the
last
house I wanted to be in that morning.

“And you know who else?” she continued. “You need to get over to the Hardings’ and see Lee’s sister, Connie; you remember her. Poor thing—not six weeks from her due date and without a husband. I’d say she’s well rid a any man who’d run off with a neighbor girl, but she still pines for him. She’s what, two years younger than you? I’m sure she could use a friend.”

Lee’s house. A second hidden agenda—and the other household directly involved with the mill situation. For an irrational moment I pictured myself retorting to Aunt Eva that I wanted no part in her machinations. But, of course, I couldn’t say that. “I don’t know. I thought I’d pick a pattern to start making a dress.”

“Well, you need to go to the store then anyhow. You can see what the dime store right here’s got, maybe avoid a trip to Albertsville.” She glanced at her watch. “Come on, we can manage to visit both families if we get a move-on.”

My eyes closed. “What do you think will happen in the meeting?”

She regarded me, her expression changing. “You’re worried ‘bout this too, aren’t you?”

I lifted a shoulder.

“Well, honey, don’t worry too much. Everybody listens to Thomas, you know that. Even Blair Riddum.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

She smiled, then eyed me critically. “You certainly have lovely skin. And that high-cheeked face a yours has always been perfect. But perhaps you ought to comb your hair, put on a touch of lipstick. Lee might be home, you know. I’ll fetch my purse.”

I rolled my eyes as she flitted happily out my bedroom door.

We were at the dime store before 9:30, waiting for Gladys Winchet to arrive and unlock its doors. At 10:00 I was still dallying in the baby section, an impatient Aunt Eva at my side. I was vacillating between choosing an infant sleeper or a soft green blanket for Connie’s baby. A sweet blue and white outfit for Kevin Matthews was already tucked under my arm. Finally I chose the sleeper.

“Jessie, you must tell me all about your graduation!” Gladys Winchet exclaimed as we paid for the presents. To Aunt Eva, she whispered, “Heared anything yet?”

Aunt Eva shook her head, but importantly informed Miss Gladys, “We’re on our way over to the Matthews’s right now.”

Numerous people stopped us, hailing me with effusion and pumping my aunt for information. I was glad to see the townsfolk again, that familiar Bradleyville stability washing over me like warm rain. But the constant invitations to chat, normally
welcomed by my aunt, were now driving her to near frenzy as she shooed me out the door and back into her old tan Buick. “Gracious,” she exclaimed, hefting her purse onto the seat, “it’ll be a wonder if we ever get off Main Street!”

We stopped at home to wrap the gifts. When we finally arrived at the Matthews’s, Thomas was still at his meeting. Not a good sign, but none of us wanted to say so. Miss Estelle and William Matthews greeted me warmly, while six-year-old Celia threw her arms around me in unabashed adoration. Celia was a striking child—blond-haired, serious beyond her years. At times, she carried an air of sadness that I could not quite define.

“Celia,” I said, pointing out the front window, “did you make all those designs out there?” Aunt Eva and I had been amazed at the chalked artwork on the front sidewalk. Almost every inch of it was covered in multihued hearts and flowers.

She stilled. “Yes.”

“They’re absolutely beautiful! Are they for something special?”

Her eyes slid away from mine. “I colored it for Mama when she brought Kevy home from the hospital. It was a present.”

I ran my fingers over her hair, feeling its silkiness. “You must have worked a long time. I’ll bet your mama really liked it.”

“Mmm hmm,” she replied distractedly. “Want to see my brother?”

Proudly, she showed me baby Kevin, sleeping in a small crib in his mother’s room, one tiny fist against his cheek. Back in the living room, she clamored to open my gift herself, already pulling at the ribbon on the brightly wrapped box.

“Celia!” Miss Estelle’s voice was sharp. “Mind your manners or go to your room.” Purposely, she took her time unwrapping the gift, ignoring Celia’s impatient jiggling. “Oh, Jessie, it’s so sweet.” Her fingers smoothed over the blue and white summer outfit. “He can wear it to church tomorrow.”

Miss Estelle was a pretty woman, with light brown hair and satin skin. Her features may have been delicate, but an undeniable strength resonated beneath those smooth pores. She donned herself
in simple dresses, her hair in a bun, but no doubt about it, she wore the pants in the Matthews family. Her control extended over her family’s speech; no bad grammar allowed. Her husband worked as an accountant in Albertsville and was one of the nicest, quietest men I’d ever met, often holding up his hands in mellow contrition when Miss Estelle decided he’d overstepped his bounds. I often thought she reined her husband in so sternly to make up for the fact that she could do nothing to stop her father’s shenanigans or his war stories, which he loved to recount. Not to mention that Thomas spoke like any other long-time resident of Bradleyville and was proud of it.

Aunt Eva settled herself on a small love seat as if she were there to stay. Miss Estelle and Mr. Matthews sat in their respective armchairs. Celia cuddled next to me on the couch.

“Jessie, have you found a place to live yet?” Mr. Matthews asked.

“Yes.” Absentmindedly, I smoothed Celia’s hair. “It’s a great one-bedroom apartment in a large complex with a pool. Not too far from my job. I can move in August first, so I’ll have two weeks to settle in before I start working.”

“Good, good. Will you be back in your old neighborhood?”

“Close to it.”

He nodded thoughtfully. Aunt Eva and Miss Estelle exchanged a glance. “No boyfriends hanging in the wings?” he asked.

The inevitable question. I was an old maid by Bradleyville standards. Typically, the town’s young men and women linked up in high school, adhering to strict rules that allowed actual dates only after girls turned seventeen. After graduation, there was always a rush of weddings. Within a year or two most of the brides had babies, their eyes suddenly opened to the wary protection of their own mothers, their minds already calculating future enforcement of the dating rules they’d so hated.

“I didn’t have time to go out much,” I replied.

I answered more questions and posed a few polite ones of my own. Miss Estelle and my aunt took turns surreptitiously watching a clock hanging over the mantel as the hands inched toward noon.

“My, it’s lunch time,” Aunt Eva finally burst. “Where is that Thomas? Got me worried sick, bein’ gone so long.”

“I’m beginning to wonder myself,” Mr. Matthews replied.

“Well, at least your family wouldn’t be touched by a strike.”

Aunt Eva patted her hair distractedly. “I can’t stand to think a Frank in the middle of it.”

“Of course we’d be affected.” Miss Estelle’s tone held an edge. “You think Dad would keep out of it, with his grandiosity? Look at him already.”

“Thomas has a good head on his shoulders,” William put in mildly. “He’d know what to do.”

Miss Estelle closed her eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Well, there
won’t
be a strike,” Aunt Eva insisted, waving an arm. “God forgive the first man who even spoke the word. Imagine what could happen to this town. Men fightin’, families without a paycheck. It would be awful, just awful. I can hardly sleep at night, thinkin’ ‘bout it.” She craned her neck, looking through the front window. “Where is that man, anyway?”

Not until we were nearly finished eating did Thomas return, the tires of his son-in-law’s car crunching over loose pebbles in the driveway. He mounted the back stairs and entered the kitchen wearily, removing his brown felt hat to run stubby fingers through his white hair. Our questions were silent, displayed in Miss Estelle’s worried eyes, the halt of a sandwich halfway to Aunt Eva’s mouth. He nodded at me and winked but did not smile. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he swiped at his forehead with an arm.

“Got any more a that iced tea?”

“Sure, Dad, I’ll get it.” Miss Estelle moved with efficient grace.

Thomas took his time pulling out a chair, its wooden legs softly scraping across the linoleum floor. He swigged the tea, placed his glass on the table with a
click
. “Well.” He stuck his tongue between his teeth and upper lip. “Riddum said, ‘No.’”

I
shot you; you’re dead!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Hush up you two, you’ll wake up yer little sister. Go outside and kill each other in the yard.”

“Yessir.”

Two small pairs of boot-clad feet rat-tatted across the bare wood floor and down the porch steps. “Lord love ‘em,” their father whispered to himself, turning his beefy face toward the clock. A fly buzzed his head, and he swatted at it with impatience, registering the clink of dishes as his young wife cleaned up after lunch. One-twenty and no word yet. He shot a disapproving look at the telephone as if it were to blame, and, by providence, it rang. Crossing the room in four strides, he snatched up the receiver. Sounds from the kitchen ceased
.

“Yeah.”

“Riddum said no deal.”

His lips exploded air. “Why?”

“Said the money ain’t there; he cain’t spend what he ain’t got.”

“He ain’t got it ‘cause it’s sittin’ in that fancy new porch a his.”

“Yep.” The voice on the line was heavy. “Lee said Thomas just called; he’s been out there all this time.”

The man glanced up to see his wife standing in the doorway, hands bunching her apron. “Oh, Lord,” he breathed, “what’re we gonna do now.”

T
he specter of bad news dangling from her like the handbag over her arm, Aunt Eva was undeterred from her plans for our next visit. Uncle Frank had not returned from Albertsville, this determined by her placing a phone call home. “We’d better go ahead and see the Hardings,” she said grimly, pulling her car away from the Matthews’s house. “They’ll need the encouragement.”