Finding Bluefield (8 page)

“This is no place for a fine woman like yourself to be hanging about. If I were you, Mrs.…” he paused for Nicky to answer. When she didn’t, he continued. “If I were you, I’d let that boy pick up his stuff at work.”

“Thank you, sir. That’s a good idea.”

“You go on home now. I doubt your husband wants you driving around here.”

Nicky picked up her bag and headed for the door. “Thanks again,” she said. Once outside, Nicky grabbed hold of the banister and made her way down the stairs.

“Can I help you carry your bag, ma’am?”

Nicky turned to find the child’s voice. She hadn’t noticed the girl sitting on the porch bench. “Sure,” Nicky said. She handed the girl her snacks.

The girl followed her down the steps to her car where she opened the door for Nicky. “Why you want Leroy?” she whispered.

“You know Leroy?”

“Maybe.”

“I heard he got hurt.” Nicky closed the door.

“You that woman who got him in trouble?”

“No.”

“Is that his baby?”

“No.”

“You a doctor?”

“No.”

“Then how you going to help him?”

“Do you know where he lives?” Nicky said.

“No.”

Nicky took a slow, deep breath. Getting in and out of the car so often was tiring her.

“Would you like those snacks?”

“Why?” the girl said.

“Give me a second.” Nicky looked through her bag and found a twenty-dollar bill. She found a used envelope on the floor mat and stuck the twenty in it. She wrote Leroy Ellison on the outside and handed it to the girl. “This envelope is for Leroy,” Nicky said. “You make sure he gets it. You keep those snacks and pop for your trouble.” The baby kicked and Nicky winced.

“You all right? You’re not having that baby now are you? I’ve seen that look on my sister.”

“I’m fine. Please make sure Leroy gets this.”

“I will,” she said. Then she ran off through the adjacent lot, turned behind the shed, and disappeared.

Nicky started her car. It took her a few minutes to find familiar roads and make her way out of town toward home. As the road narrowed to two lanes and fewer and fewer houses interrupted the landscape and the dirt became visible, she began to relax. Along this part of the road, the old houses had been kept up; few new ones had been built.

As Nicky downshifted into second and turned onto her driveway, it began to drizzle. The smell of the fresh rain made her smile and she walked slowly from the car to the house. She opened the screen door, and let herself into the mudroom where she hung her jacket on a hook, sat on the bench, and kicked off her muddied shoes. In the kitchen, she noticed the time. Barbara was sure to be worried. She grabbed the phone and called Barbara at the hospital.

“Where were you?” Barbara said. “Why didn’t you call? I checked downstairs to see if you went into labor.”

“I’m fine,” Nicky said. “I was in town and I didn’t realize how late it was or I would have come by the hospital. I stopped by the diner and Lucinda told me that Leroy got beaten, so I tried to find him.”

“You know where he lives?”

“I asked around the North End, but no one would tell me where he lived. I wanted to see if he was okay.”

“And if he wasn’t, what would you have done?”

“Can you check to see if he was brought in last night? Get his address for me?”

“People were talking about how this group of blacks and whites were out registering voters and that they got beat real bad.”

“The ER will have his address.”

“No one was brought here. You know that,” Barbara said.

“I’ll have to go back and look for him.”

“Don’t go anywhere; don’t do anything till I get home,” Barbara said. “Don’t worry me like this. Did you forget that you’re pregnant?”

“Not even for one second.” Nicky hung up the phone and put a kettle of water on the stove. She leaned her back against the counter and watched the water boil. Outside, the much needed rain had stopped. A false hope. Through the window over the sink, she saw her unplanted garden. She hadn’t gotten to it yet. When the baby was out, she would plant a garden and she would bring him out on the dirt with her. Nicky’s father taught her to tend the eating garden. You come from a people who work the earth, he told her often. Dust to dust. There is no more noble an undertaking, no more crucial a task, no more satisfying an occupation. Soon, Nicky thought, soon my baby will be a part of this land, and he will work this earth, and then he too will be part of this place, this history, this patch of earth.

When the water boiled, Nicky carried her tea upstairs and ran the bath. While waiting on her tub to fill, the phone rang.

“Nicky Stewart?” a man’s voice said.

“Who’s this?”

“I got the envelope.”

“Leroy?” Nicky said.

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

“I need a favor.”

“What is it?”

“I need a ride.”

“Sure,” Nicky said, sitting down on the bed. “Where?”

“Richmond.”

“That’s two hours from here,” she said.

“Yes.”

“I’m pregnant,” Nicky said.

“I know.”

“I mean, I’m almost due and I’m not supposed to go that far from the hospital.”

“It’s a bad idea. I’m sorry to have bothered you,” Leroy said.

“Wait.” Couldn’t they ask someone else, Nicky thought? But I did offer help. I’ll get Barbara to come along with me.

“Are you there?”

“I’m thinking,” Nicky said. “When would you need to go?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Nicky said. “Where would I meet you?”

“At the First Baptist.”

“I’ll be there by eleven.”

“If you decide you can’t drive me, I’ll understand.”

“I’ll be there.” Nicky hung up the phone and got into the tub. She slid her head under water and wet her hair and thought about swimming. It’s just a ride, she thought, he’s just asking for a ride. Okay, it would be bad if people found out. So, she figured, they better not find out.

“Leroy called,” Nicky said over dinner. “He needs a ride to Richmond.”

“He called you?” Barbara drank some wine.

“I told him to.”

“When?”

“When I was at the church, I gave the minister my number in case he needed anything. I didn’t think he’d need a ride. I thought he might need some money.”

“You told him you couldn’t, right?”

“Not quite.”

“You said yes?”

“I didn’t say one way or another,” Nicky said.

“But you think you’re going?” Barbara began to pace the room. “Do you understand you can’t go? It’s too risky to you and the baby.”

“I understand, but nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“Let’s just start with going into labor.”

“Come with me,” Nicky said. “You still never had ribs from Bub’s. That alone is worth the trip.”

“I have to work tomorrow. Can’t he find someone else?”

“He asked me.”

“People don’t joke about this stuff around here. Remember how everyone knew you went to the march? This is worse.” Barbara walked over and put her hands on Nicky’s shoulders and started to rub. “I like that you want to take him, but you have to promise me you won’t.”

“You’re so attached to this baby,” Nicky said.

“Promise me.”

*

Nicky rolled onto her side, sat up, and rested her feet on the rugless pine floor. After such a lousy night’s sleep, she was relieved to be getting up.

“That baby’s just preparing you, training you so you’ll be ready when he comes out,” Carol-Ann told her in that older sister tone the last time she called.

“Where are you going?” Barbara asked, sitting up and putting her left wrist in front of her nose to see the time.

“My checkup.” Nicky’s toes hunted for slippers.

“Aren’t you early?”

“I move slow. I’ll be late.” She stood up.

“I’ll come for the ride.” Barbara rubbed her eyes with her palms.

“Don’t you have to work?”

“I do. But if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine. Right now I just have to pee. Instead of drinking anything, I should just pour my glass right into the toilet. Save all that effort of moving liquid through my body.”

“Can I make you breakfast?”

“I can’t eat.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” Barbara asked as Nicky returned. Barbara, still in bed, reached over to her night table to get her glasses.

“I’m fine.” Nicky headed downstairs. “I’m just pregnant.”

Barbara got out of bed, grabbed her housecoat, and followed. She kissed Nicky and opened the screen door for her. “Call me,” she yelled through the screen door. “Maybe we’ll have dinner in town.”

“Dinner in town sounds nice.” Nicky turned back to Barbara. “What were you going to make me?”

“What?”

“Breakfast.”

“Cereal. Whatever you want.”

Halfway through the twenty-minute drive, Nicky turned into the Four Corners gas station and shut the engine.

“Hey, Nicky,” Andy said as he approached the car.

Nicky pushed herself up. “Give me a hand will you?”

“How much longer?” he asked, wiping his hands on a clean rag.

“Couple of weeks.” Nicky opened the door, swung her feet around. “But I’m ready now.” Andy took her hand and helped her out of the car. “Could you fill it up? I’m going to get some coffee.”

“I’ll bring the car over,” Andy said.

“Good plan.” She walked across the road to the Four Corners Restaurant, exhaled some smoke, and stepped inside.

“Hey, Nicky,” the waitress called, “you’re looking good.”

“Don’t give her any food,” the cook yelled out as he peeked through the order pickup window. “She’ll get stuck in here like Pooh Bear.”

“That’s enough, Bobby,” the waitress said, laughing.

Nicky covered her belly with her hands. She felt an elbow just above her belly button that used to be an innie that had long since been turned into an outie by the baby. The restaurant was full with farmers. Nicky had known these people her whole life. They knew her father, her mother, and her sister. Like Nicky, they were descendants of the way things have been, white inheritors of a once prosperous and dignified occupation. Nicky’s father had always had their sympathy, losing his wife early, running that farm by himself, having only girls, and then dying young. Maybe that was why they didn’t ask Nicky about the child’s father. Not directly. Or maybe it was because they were farmers and this was the season of planting seeds in the earth and making things grow and the weather had not been kind.

They were talking about the newest government farm plan, the presidential primaries, the young baseball season, and their hopes that their Washington Senators would not lose a hundred games. Again. They were talking about anything but the weather. But Nicky knew their thoughts were on rain. They needed the rain to remain idle. They’d had too much time to prepare things. It was up to the plants now. They simply had to start growing. If the rain came, they would eat more pie, drink more coffee, and worry about flooding. Nicky saw her father in these men, remembered his worry, his patience, his pride at getting food from the earth. Every year it was different, and every year it was the same.

Nicky wanted to sit and listen and lose herself in their small talk, but she was not a farmer and not a man. Maybe someday her son would sit here. Barbara had recently agreed to apply for a job at the hospital at the end of her residency and not force the issue of moving. Nicky was certain that staying in Bluefield would be best for the baby, and she was almost as sure that Barbara would learn to love Virginia the way she did. She lifted her coffee, wedged a copy of the morning paper under her arm, and stepped back outside.

Andy was waiting outside the diner with Nicky’s car. He was holding the door open for her. “Got names picked out?”

Nicky tossed the newspaper onto the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel. “I’ve narrowed it down to a few.” The engine purred.

“What are they?”

“I like to keep them to myself, you know, till he’s born.”

“You like secrets.”

“Don’t start with me, Andy.”

“How’s the pedals?” he asked. He was leaning against the door, checking the space between Nicky’s belly and the steering wheel. Andy had rigged the Chevy’s gas, brake, and clutch with blocks when Nicky’s expanded belly forced her seat back and left her feet out of reach.

“Good. But if the baby doesn’t come soon, you’ll have to move me back some more.” She depressed the clutch and pushed the lever into reverse.

“There is no more.”

“That’s how my belly feels. No more room.”

Andy wiped his hand across the hood. “You call me if you need something, Nicky. Anything.”