Lila: A Novel (21 page)

He wasn’t there, either. The house was empty. Probably someone had died, or was about to die. Plenty of times he was called away to do what he could where comforting was needed. The last time it happened he came in the door after midnight, grumbling to himself. He said, “Asking a man to apologize on his deathbed for the abject and total disappointment he was in life! That does beat all.” He took off his hat. “So I took them aside, the family. And I said, If you’re not Christian people, then what am I doing here? And if you are, you’d better start acting like it. Words to that effect.” He looked at her. “I know I was harsh. But the poor old devil could hardly get his breath, let alone give his side of things. There were tears in his eyes!” He hung up his coat. “I’ve known him my whole life. He wasn’t worse than average. Wouldn’t matter if he was.” And then he said, “You shouldn’t have waited up for me, Lila. The two of you need your sleep,” and he kissed her cheek and went up to his study to pray over the regret he felt because he’d lost his temper. Anger was his besetting sin, he said. He was always praying about it. She had thought, If that’s the worst of it, I’ll be all right.

She wasn’t warm yet, so she decided to go upstairs and lie down in his bed until she heard him at the door. She’d just slip off her shoes and pull up the covers and wait. She thought it would comfort the child. But the cold of her body filled the space it made under the blankets, a hollow of cold. Maybe that’s how she felt to the child. Winter nights Doll would pull her against her, into her own shape, and she would pull the quilt up over her, and her arm would be around her, and Lila would only feel warmer for the cold that was everywhere else in the world. She was probably thinking of this when she gave that boy her coat, tucked him in. And then he laughed just the way she might have laughed all those years ago, for pleasure that seemed like a piece of luck, a trick played on misery and trouble. Now here she had this child of her own, and maybe it felt the cold. Maybe it feared it was being born to a woman who couldn’t be trusted to give it comfort. Maybe it would have the look that boy had, as if the life in him had decided to cut its losses when it had just begun to make him a man’s body. She thought, Then I’ll steal you, and I’ll take you away where nobody knows us, and I’ll make up all the difference between what you are and what you could have been by loving you so much. Mellie said, “Her legs is all rickety,” and Doll just kept her closer and seen to her all the more. Even Doll said, “If there was just something about you,” looking at her the way other people did because she couldn’t go on protecting her from other people. But Doll always made up the difference the best she could. Lila would, too. And there’d be no old man to say, I see what you’ve done to my child. No old man. It would happen sometime anyway. She pulled up her knees and hugged her belly, and she felt it moving.

The sound of the front door woke her. Boughton was talking with him, and she could hear worry in their voices. Boughton always came along when there might be something difficult to deal with, on a cane now half the time, but still as willing as could be to help out a little. He was there when Mrs. Ames died and the Reverend was off somewhere doing something. Once, after Boughton had gone on through a long evening about the Rural Electrification Act and its implications, the old man said, “He prayed with her. He closed her eyes.” We wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.
We
because Boughton was there, just trying to help out. She heard him saying, “I’ll wait down here a minute, John,” and the old man starting up the stairs alone. What did they think had happened? No, better ask what
had
happened. She’d done something she shouldn’t. She knew half of it and he would probably tell her the rest. She stood up and slipped on her shoes and smoothed her hair and her dress.

When he came into the room, she felt a surge of relief at the sight of him that made it harder for her to do what she meant to do, which was nothing. Stand there and hear him out. She couldn’t leave, now that she’d given her money to that boy. Well, she’d figure a way if she had to. She was thinking, I’m gone the minute he talks down to me, no matter what. And just that morning she’d been feeling so safe.

He spoke down the stairs, “She’s here. She’s fine,” and Boughton said, “Tomorrow, then,” and let himself out. Then the old man said, “That’s true, isn’t it? You are fine?”

She said, “Far as I know.”

He nodded. “Me, too. Far as I know.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “A little winded, maybe.” He covered his face with his hands. A moment passed, and then he patted the bed beside him and said, “Come, sit down.” He cleared his throat to steady his voice. He said, “So. I’ll tell you about my day, if you’ll tell me about yours.”

She shrugged and sat down beside him. “I been out walking.”

“So I gather.” A longer moment passed, and then he said, “Someone came by my office and told me he’d seen you at the cabin. He mentioned it because the weather was turning bad. So I got Boughton to drive me out there so I could spare you the walk home. But we missed you somehow.”

She said, “Who told you?”

“George Peterson. He’s not in the church. They all know better by now.”

They all knew better than to tell him about her comings and goings. She’d have to think about that.

He said, “You weren’t there, but your coat was, and there was a fellow underneath it. When I saw it, I thought it was probably you under it. I said your name and there was no answer, so I turned it back, and this fellow jumped up with a knife in his hand.” He laughed and rubbed his eyes. “I never had such a scare. Or felt so relieved. I thought Boughton might die on the spot. Then he pushed past us and ran off, and we were just too floored to do anything much but look at each other. We started worrying about where you were and how he got your coat. We couldn’t very well ask him. So we came back here.” He laughed. “Boughton must have been doing forty the whole way. He’s so scared of that car he’s always got two wheels in the ditch, but he was Barney Oldfield this evening.”

She said, “Well, I was just here resting.”

“So I see. But perhaps you could clarify things a little. I’m curious. And I feel as though I owe Boughton the rest of the story. Nothing urgent about it, of course.”

“Part of the time I was sitting in the church, trying to warm up a little.”

He nodded. “I guess that’s how we missed you.”

“And I give him that coat. The use of it. Just for the night. I never thought you’d be out there.”

He nodded. “That was very generous.”

“Well, I didn’t know it would turn so cold.”

“I’m sure he was glad to have it. The use of it. So you walked home in the cold without a coat.”

“I felt sorry for him. A boy like that. He was so miserable he wasn’t even sleeping nights. He thought it was because he’d killed somebody, but I thought it might be that he just wasn’t comfortable. Partly, anyway.”

“Well,” he said. “He’d killed somebody.”

“He thought he probably did. Sounded to me like he did and he didn’t want to be sure of it. It was just his pa. I mean, he wasn’t out looking for somebody to kill. He lost his temper, I guess.”

He laughed. “That happens.”

“He wasn’t going to hurt anybody. All he wanted to do was go back where he come from. So they could hang him.”

“I see. Of course I had no way of knowing that, did I. You can imagine what I thought, finding your coat there. And he was a pretty rough-looking individual, from what I saw of him.” He said, “I have a lot of memories these days. And I have some pretty bad dreams. I talked to Boughton about it, and he said he has them, too. So we couldn’t be very sensible in the circumstances, I suppose. Maybe we could have talked to him if we hadn’t brought so much dread into the situation. Lila, I haven’t wanted to bring this up, but I would appreciate it a great deal if you were very careful with yourself. Just to spare two old men a little wear and tear.”

She said, “I will give it some thought.”

He laughed. “Yes. Do it for my sake. Oh, what a shock I had.” And he lay back on the bed with his arms across his face.

After a while she said, “He had a little sort of bundle with him. Did he take that when he run off?”

“There was something like that lying on the floor. We left it there. Why?”

“Well, it’s just that he’ll likely come back for it.” Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. “If he seen that you wasn’t chasing him, he’s probly already come and gone.”

“I take it you don’t want to talk to the sheriff about this.”

“Wouldn’t be much point.”

He laughed. “If you say so.”

She said, “I’m not much for talking to a sheriff. That’s a fact. But if he turns himself in, they might not hang him. If some law catches him, for sure they will. But he’ll need that money to get home. He don’t have a decent pair of shoes.”

He said, “Now you’re crying.”

“I’m tired is all.” She said, “I was thinking we might bring him here and let him sleep the night at the church. That was before he run off.”

He handed her his handkerchief. “Well, Lila, I’ll talk to Boughton again. I guess we could go back out there. Maybe talk to him this time. You can stay home.” He sat up and stood up like the weariest man in the world, steadying himself against the bedpost. She knew she should tell him not to trouble himself.

She said, “I better go along. He won’t be scared of me. He’ll never come with us. He’d never get in the car with us now. But we could take him some things. If we hurry.”

“All right. Then you put some things together and I’ll go get Boughton.”

So she put socks and long underwear and a flannel shirt in a pillowcase, and a pair of the preacher’s old shoes. None of it would fit the boy, but it was better than nothing. She bundled a piece of ham in wax paper and put it with the rest, and some apples, and took two wool blankets out of the cupboard. She put on the blue coat, which she found draped on the newel post, and went out to the DeSoto. Boughton said, somberly, “I believe they call this aiding and abetting. I know they do.” He said, “Nobody will have to get out of the car. I’ll honk the horn. We’ll just pull up to the stoop and drop it all out the window. I’m going to keep the car running.”

When they stopped in front of the cabin, Lila stepped out. She called, “Hey. You there? We brought you some clothes and some blankets. I’ll just set them inside here in case it snows.” The Reverend stepped out, too, and gave her a flashlight, and took the parcel, and took her arm. He said, “I’ll go in.”

“No, I will. He’s touchy, all right, but he ain’t scared of me.” She said, “We don’t want to corner him. He’ll get himself in worse trouble.”

He laughed. “We can’t have that, can we. Whatever you say. Let’s just be quick about it.”

She set the things inside the door, and then she swept the flashlight across the room. She said, “It’s still there. His money. He ain’t come back for it.”

“Well, he won’t come back as long as we’re here. It’s good that he hasn’t come back already. This way he’ll find what you’ve left for him.”

“Oh, maybe,” she said. “I don’t know, I don’t.” The old man’s voice was so low and so weary. Then all the way home they were silent. She could feel thoughts passing between the two men, who had grown old in their friendship. She’s going to be a world of trouble, John. And: Let’s see what she has to say before we judge. And: Old men can make foolish decisions. And: Let’s leave that to another time. And: No matter what happens, I’m on your side. And: You are, you always are, even when I’m not. Still, the longer he thought about it, the graver he was. That night she lay beside him, wondering if he ever would sleep. He didn’t take her hand, and she didn’t dare take his. But the child was there. She could feel what must be the press of its head below her rib, the press of its foot against her hip. She thought, Seems like you’re about as strong as you ought to be.

*   *   *

The next morning the Reverend came downstairs dressed for Sunday. She still forgot to pay attention to the days of the week sometimes, but she was pretty sure it was Thursday. He told her once that his preacher clothes helped him remember himself, helped with that worry of his about anger. So here he was, remembering himself before he’d even had breakfast. He said, “Good morning.”

She said, “Morning.” There was nothing to do but wait for him to say what was on his mind. She poured coffee into his cup, so he sat down.

Then there was a knock at the door, and he went to answer it. She heard him talking with someone. When he came back to the kitchen he said, “That was Boughton’s boy Teddy. He’s been out to the cabin already, to leave some things that might have a better chance of being the right size. Boughton is too stove up in the mornings to do much himself, and Teddy wanted a look at things anyway, since he’s almost a doctor. He thought the fellow might be needing his help. No sign of him, though. Everything is the way we left it.” He said, “I’m sorry about that. Sorry we scared him off.”

She said, “Nobody’s fault.”

He was standing there with his hands on the back of his chair, looking at her, tired and serious. She could almost see what he had been like as a young man. He said, “There are people you seem to know the first time you see them. And other people you might spend your whole life with and never really know. That first day you walked into the church, that rainy Sunday, I felt as though I recognized you somehow. It was a remarkable experience. It was.”

“But you don’t really know nothing about me,” she said, since he couldn’t bring himself to say it. She was about to hear those words again: I don’t know you.

He said, “Well, in one sense that may be true.”

“I’d say it’s true.” She wasn’t going to be standing there waiting for it.

“Not in a way I thought would matter. And it doesn’t matter now, Lila. Not really.”

“I guess that’s good, because there ain’t much to tell. I don’t know who my folks were, I don’t know my own last name.”

He said, “I understand that. It makes no difference to me. None at all.”

“Well,” she said, “if there’s something else you want to ask me about, you might as well do it.”