Earthly Vows (12 page)

Fern pushed up from her relaxed posture and looked at him. “I saw the way those people catered to you yesterday, Jeb. They
were all but saluting when you walked in the door. Church in the Dell has been a hard church to pastor, I know that. I’ve
wanted you to give up, at times, but you didn’t. You stuck it out and over time, you’ve done some good. But this city church
has you reeling from all of the attention they’ve shown you and I’m not ignorant of that either.” She slipped her feet out
of her good shoes. She had a pair of white cotton socks in her pocketbook. She dug them out and pulled them onto her feet
over the stockings. “You need time to clear your head, Jeb.”

“My mind is clear. This is the place for us, Fern. We’ve found the Welbys’ kin and a place to start over.”

“Claudia Drake is a mess. You aren’t suggesting that she is prepared to take in Angel and the kids, are you? She can’t feed
what children she does have.”

“You heard the guy at the Skirvin. I found her some work. Even Henry said I had made a good connection for her, had one of
his church members get some material to give Claudia. The girl lives right outside Oklahoma City, for heaven’s sakes. If we’re
there, we can check on them, help them out. We can have it all, a new congregation, better pay, and give the Welbys back their
family.”

“Life is not that easily fixed, Jeb.”

“Until now, it wasn’t.”

“You’ve made up your mind, so what else is there to talk about?”

“There’s more to tell. The pay is really good, Fern.

You can stay at home if you want.”

“I teach because I want.”

“I know. The Coulter girls choose to work. You’re like your daddy. But you won’t have to, that’s all I’m saying.” Donna sighed
and stretched out her arms. Fern peered around the seat. “You finally awake?”

“I think you need to listen to Jeb, if you ask me,” she said. “I never knew what you saw in that scrubby little town, Fern.
You never did fit the bill for a small-town preacher’s wife.”

“I liked you better asleep.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Jeb.

“Not that I ever saw you as a preacher’s wife either,” said Donna.

They drove past several little towns. Around noon, a red-and-blue light flashed ahead, an advertisement for hot-plate specials
from inside a diner window. Jeb offered to buy Donna’s lunch, obliged to an ally.

Myrna called the Welby children and Claudia and her brood in for a noontime meal. Abigail took her meal in her room. That
troubled Angel a tad. She hoped that with Claudia’s family showing up, that they weren’t wearing out their welcome. “Is Miz
Abigail feeling poorly?” she asked Myrna.

“Oh, she is fine, girl, don’t trouble over it. Sometimes since Mr. Coulter passed, she likes to take her meal in her bedroom.
She and Mr. Coulter used to take tea out on the patio outside her room. Wouldn’t surprise me if she sits out there to think
about those times.”

The table was set up family-style with bowls of vegetables set in the table’s middle section. Myrna made beans with ham and
fried potatoes. She added two leaves to the table after Claudia showed up. Ida May carried a large bottle of ketchup to the
table. She had been running errands all morning for Myrna in the same manner she had for either Angel or Fern back in Nazareth.
Myrna took to Ida May as affectionately as all of the other women at Church in the Dell.

Willie and Darrell, Fern’s young nephew, came inside panting, their faces gleaming with sweat. They ran hoops all morning
down the hill from the pasture. Myrna made them remove their berets.

Claudia sat holding Thorne as the girl wanted nothing to do with the baby chair Abigail kept for her grandchildren. John sat
near Angel. She tied a rag around his neck and asked him if he liked potatoes.

“Corn bread is right out of the oven and I see Ida May has put butter on the table already.” She cut the round of corn bread
into triangles and served it on a platter. “You all can bless your food and eat,” said Myrna. She had already fixed a plate
for herself. She excused herself from the family and carried her plate into her quarters, right outside the kitchen.

Angel asked grace. She made Willie draw back his hand. “Hand the corn bread platter first to Claudia, Willie. Serve company
first.”

Claudia accepted the serving plate. She served herself and handed the platter to Ida May. Angel got up and served her sister
with beans and potatoes, since her lap was full of Thorne. Claudia smelled the food, her eyes closed. “I haven’t seen potatoes
in years. Nor ham in the beans, nor piccalilli relish, nor onion slice.” She blew on a piece of potato, dipped it in ketchup,
and held it in front of Thorne’s mouth. “You’ve done good by your brother and sister, Angel. I couldn’t have done no better.
Fact is, I probably wouldn’t have done near as good.”

“It’s because of Jeb and Miss Fern.”

“And the good people at Church in the Dell,” said Willie. He waited for the bread platter to return from around the table.
He forked corn bread onto his plate. “Everybody gives up a little of what they have and it ends up enough.”

Darrell watched Willie shovel potatoes into his mouth. His laughter dribbled out of him, a nervous squeal.

“Truth is, Bo had a good job. We had enough, more than some, maybe not as much as others. But what he didn’t drink up, he
gambled away.” Angel gave another cooled potato cube to John. “In spite of that, I never thought he’d be the type to up and
leave,” said Claudia. “Granny told me once that she saw meanness in Bo’s eyes. It took some time to see things as she saw
them, but she was right.”

Angel buttered her bread and broke off a corner for John. “What are you going to do, Claudia, get a job?”

“How am I going to do that? I can’t leave these two behind.”

“Bo ought to be horsewhipped,” said Willie. Angel asked Ida May to fetch the iced-tea pitcher.

She said to Claudia, “Have you ever heard from Daddy?”

“Not since he sent you off with Lana.”

“You knew about that, then?”

“I got his letter, the last one I ever got.” Angel and Willie exchanged glances. Angel said, “So he told you that Lana was
bringing us to your place.” Claudia stopped crumbling corn bread over her beans. “If you knew we were on the way, why’d you
leave?”

Willie asked. “I shouldn’t have said nothing,” said Claudia. “So you and Bo up and left after you knew we were coming to live
with you?” Angel asked. “That’s a fine howdy-do, Claudia.” Willie put both wrists on the table, his gaze resting accusingly
on Claudia.

“You don’t understand how things was with us. Bo wasn’t good with John and then we had little Thorne on the way. I knew he
wouldn’t be good to either of you.”

“We could have starved, Claudia,” said Angel. “Ida May was sickly. You knew all of that and you left us behind. Even Daddy
did better by us. At least he wrote to tell you we were coming.”

“That was a bad time,” said Willie. “After Lana took off with a salesman, we hitched a ride with a crazy woman. She stole
everything we had and left us out in the rain.” He described that night well, not leaving anything to the imagination.

“I was scared,” said Ida May.

“So was I,” said Angel. “I thought we’d all been left for dead.”

A tear trickled down Claudia’s cheek. She set Thorne on the floor, brought the napkin to her face, and sobbed.

Angel, Willie, and Ida May stared at one another and then at their oldest sister.

“I made the wrong choice,” said Claudia. “I should have picked you. I was afraid that I couldn’t make it without Bo.”

“You were right about that,” said Willie.

“Willie, don’t make it worse than it is.” Angel wiped the sheen from John’s mouth.

“When you got the letter from Daddy, is that when you decided to leave?” asked Ida May. She set the tea pitcher on the table.

“It wasn’t exactly like that, no. Bo had gotten a telegram with a job offer to work for the railroad near Oklahoma City. I
told him about Daddy’s letter and that you would be on the way soon. I asked if he would let me stay behind and wait for you-all
and then send for us. He told me that if I didn’t leave then and there with him, that I’d be on my own. He knew he had me.”
She refilled her tea glass. “He gave me almost no time to pack up our belongings. We left the next morning before sunup.”

“You could tell,” said Angel. She paused for a second or more before saying, “I don’t blame you, Claudia, for what you did.
It’s hard to know what to do when you got no one to call.” She gave Willie a look.

“I even tried to write you a letter, Angel. But he tore it up, burned it in the cookstove,” said Claudia. She wiped her eyes
again.

“Angel’s right. I won’t hold it against you,” said Willie. “So you married a louse. You made a mistake.”

“It wasn’t always like that between me and Bo,” said Claudia. She blew her nose into the napkin. “We made a few memories,
the two of us. But it never accounted to much, not like the times I had with you-all.”

Ida May scooted her chair away from the table. She walked up beside Claudia and threw her arms around her.

Claudia kissed Ida May’s cheek. She hesitated as if she needed time to form her next sentence. “There’s something I need to
ask you, Angel.”

Angel rested her face in her hands and nodded at Claudia.

“I’d like to ask you to come and stay with me until I get back on my feet. If you watch these two, then I can find a good
job.”

“Claudia, you couldn’t feed all of us,” said Angel.

“Not Willie and Ida May, I couldn’t. But with you helping out, I could see to our needs.”

Ida May withdrew from Claudia.

“Don’t get in a huff, Little Sister. I’d send for you and your brother soon as I could,” said Claudia.

“Angel’s got school to finish,” said Willie. “Miss Fern’s got her studying to become a teacher.”

“They’s no time for that, Willie. We got to think about Thorne and little John now.”

Angel stiffened. “Willie’s right. I want to become a teacher.”

“Welbys help out their own, Angel. You need to learn that now, get your feet on the ground.”

Angel helped John to the floor and gave him an extra bite of potato to suck on. She asked Ida May to help her clear the table.

“I’m asking you to think about it, Angel. I’m tired of our family being strung out all over the country. It’s time we put
back together what Momma and Daddy let fall to pieces.”

Angel gathered the plates into a stack and carried them into the kitchen. She called Myrna out of her room and told her, “I’ll
help you with the dishes.”

Myrna said, “You’re a guest of Miss Coulter. You don’t have to bother.”

“Not really a guest, Myrna, when you think about it. Jeb and Fern will be married soon. We’re almost family, aren’t we?”

“You’re right, girl. I should have thought of that already.”

Jeb drove down the road and up the Coulter drive. The car undulated over the hills and dips in the drive. Fern slid her feet
back into her shoes.

Ida May came running down the hill. Her red face gleamed and her dress tail was hiked up in back as she ran. Jeb slowed and
opened his window to ask her, “Need a lift, Littlest?”

“Claudia is taking Angel away, but we can’t go. I don’t want Angel to leave, Dub.”

Donna opened the back car door and invited Ida May inside. She was ripe; the potent sweat of a girl was no different than
a boy’s. She told Fern about going to church with Miz Abigail and about the new calf in the barn.

“Who told you Claudia was taking Angel? Taking her where?” asked Jeb.

“I heard them say so over dinner. It made Willie mad. He wouldn’t play with me.”

Fern let out a breath.

Jeb pulled underneath the oak behind the house. He got out and opened the trunk for the women, setting their suitcases out
for them. Fern picked up the largest case. “I guess you got your second wish,” she said.

Abigail came out onto the back porch. She smoothed her hair with her fingers and then smiled at her girls. “Ida May, I wondered
where you were off to. You spotted them before me. That girl’s got eyes, eyes, I tell you.”

Donna pulled out a pack of smokes.