Pearl (21 page)
‘‘The base of a kerosene lamp.’’
He sniffed his fingers. ‘‘That’s what stinks—kerosene. Why’d you go and hit me like that?’’
Ruby stared at Charlie and shook her head. Was this the same man who attacked her upstairs? Who nearly scared the life right out of her? She raised her hand to her aching cheek. Yes, the same man, and he . . . She caught herself before she began spewing her thoughts out and drowning him in them.
‘‘We was just havin’ us some fun.’’
That did it.
‘‘Fun! Fun! You might have been having fun, but I abhor your kind of fun. If that was the way you treated the other girls, I wish some bear had mauled you a time or two and then told
you
that he was just having fun.’’ Carrying deadly venom, her words bumped into each other, jumping out to lacerate and hopefully poison the man who now held his head up with shaking hands.
‘‘Come on Jed, I think it time you be on your way.’’ Charlie nudged the man with his foot.
‘‘But I need a bed and a bath.’’
‘‘Not here, you don’t.’’ Ruby’s eyes narrowed. ‘‘And if I never see you again, it will be far too soon.’’
‘‘But . . . but . . .’’ Jed slowly rose to his feet, still swaying enough to need a hand on the newel post. ‘‘Cricky, but you cracked me a good one.’’
Ruby stepped back and shuddered as his smell moved with him.
Had I had a gun, I would have shot him. I might have killed a
man. Is this something of what Cimarron felt?
She watched the man stagger to the door, and only after it closed behind him did she sink onto a chair. Her cheek hurt, her teeth hurt, her heel hurt from slamming into him, and she felt as though she’d been rolling in the mud and it might never wash off again.
‘‘Now I know what real hate feels like.’’
‘‘I hate to say this, but Jed Black is not a bad man. Well, not usually anyway.’’
Ruby stared at Charlie like he’d lost his wits. ‘‘How can you say that after . . . after . . . why, if you hadn’t come, he’d have . . .’’ She scrunched her eyes shut. ‘‘Ouch.’’ She cupped her hand over her cheek.
‘‘He’d been drinking some of William’s rotgut. Goes crazy when he does that.’’
‘‘And that excuses his behavior?’’
‘‘No. Just explains it. You ask Belle or one of the others.’’
‘‘Charlie Higgins, right now I could tar you with the same brush I’d want to use on him.’’ She spun so quickly her skirt flared, and she headed for the kitchen.
‘‘What happened to you?’’ Cimarron stopped so quickly her wash bucket sloshed.
‘‘Jed Black.’’ Ruby dipped a cloth in the bucket of water by the stove and held it to her cheek.
‘‘Oh my . . .’’ Cimarron set her bucket down. ‘‘He didn’t try to. . . ?’’
‘‘Oh, he did, but Charlie pulled him off, and I bashed him with a kerosene lamp. Tell Charlie he can go clean up the kerosene. I most surely won’t.’’
Ruby stalked from the room, stormed up the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Opal, and threw herself across the rope-strung bed. When the tears came, they threatened to never quit. Along with the questions. Had she done something to provoke the man? And the impossible rage.
Lord, I want to kill that
sorry excuse of a man
.
Chicago
Pearl bid her students good-bye for the final time. Little Esther gave her a hug, her eyes filling with tears.
‘‘You the best teacher.’’
‘‘Thank you.’’ Pearl fought the burning behind her own eyes. ‘‘You learned so much this year. I am more proud of you than I can say.’’
‘‘Thank you for the picnic. That was the bestest day of my whole life.’’
Pearl blinked and looked toward the ceiling, all the while patting the little one’s back. ‘‘You keep reading this summer, so you come back to school all ready in the fall.’’
‘‘We don’t got no books.’’
‘‘You can read those here at the school. You know where the library is.’’ Pearl tipped the little girl’s face up so she could smile into her eyes. ‘‘There are always books there. And’’—she stroked back the flyaway hair—‘‘you got a book from the relay race.’’ All the prizes given away on play day were books, tablets, and pencils in the hopes that the children would use them during the summer. This had been another one of Pearl’s gifts to the school in the name of her father. She had decided long before that one of his charities—he was known in the community as a generous man thanks to the efforts of his wife and daughter—would be the schoolchildren.
She turned the little girl toward the door. ‘‘You better run now so your mother won’t worry.’’
‘‘Yes, ma’am.’’ She took a step, then looked over her shoulder.
‘‘You’ll be here when school comes again?’’
‘‘Ah.’’ Pearl thought quickly. ‘‘As far as I know.’’ She hadn’t told a lie. At the moment she had no idea what was going to happen, but then God never did tell His people in advance. Neither did her father, though she had some strong suspicions on that score.
‘‘Bye.’’ Another step and a stop. ‘‘Can I come to your house again next year?’’
‘‘I don’t know what all we will do next year, but you will be in the next grade, remember?’’
‘‘Yes.’’ She didn’t look happy at that thought.
‘‘God bless.’’ Pearl kept smiling in case Esther looked back again. But when the outer door closed, she sank down at her desk and stared around the classroom. Her mind flipped back to the evening after the picnic. Her father had been pleasant until he’d gone out in the backyard to check on his roses. He returned to the house where she and her mother were having tea in the sunroom.
‘‘Whoever trampled the ground out there? Looks like a herd of wild horses ran through.’’ His brushy eyebrows nearly met in the middle.
‘‘Ah . . .’’ Pearl glanced to her mother for support.
‘‘We had guests today, dear.’’ Amalia set her teacup back in its saucer. ‘‘Would you like some tea?’’
‘‘No! You know I don’t like tea, that insipid stuff. What were the ladies doing, having footraces?’’
‘‘Ah, you could say that.’’
‘‘Something is rotten in Denmark,’’ he muttered as he headed back outside.
‘‘I better tell him.’’ Pearl started to rise but stopped when Amalia laid a hand on her arm.
‘‘Sometimes the less said the better.’’
They heard his growl before he reentered the room.
‘‘And sometimes not.’’ Amalia’s one cocked eyebrow reminded Pearl that the two of them could handle Mr. Jorge Hossfuss, at least most of the time.
‘‘There were children out there.’’ He held up a small sweater.
‘‘Yes, dear. Some of my friends do have small children.’’
Pearl watched the exchange, fascinated by the calm of the woman she was starting to think of as her mother versus the belligerence of her father. She sipped her tea, forcing the liquid past the lump in her throat.
When he left, she set her teacup down, a slight rattle at the joining betraying her agitation.
‘‘I should have searched the garden better before we left.’’
‘‘Mr. French should have too.’’
‘‘I think I’d rather just tell him and get it over with.’’
‘‘We neither lied nor did anything morally wrong. It’s just that at times I save him increased agitation by not telling everything.’’ ‘‘Isn’t that a bit dishonest? After all, he says we must always be honest and tell the truth.’’
‘‘Did he ask me whose sweater that was?’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘Would you say those were friends here at the picnic?’’
‘‘Well, they weren’t enemies.’’
‘‘Exactly. And were we building goodwill in the community?’’
‘‘Yes, I suppose so.’’
‘‘And doesn’t he tell us to build goodwill in the community?’’
Pearl felt a smile tugging at her cheek muscles.
The smile carried her through the dismantling of her classroom and the loading of her things into the carriage brought around at her request that morning.
‘‘That be all, miss?’’ the driver asked as he settled the last basket.
‘‘I just need to talk with Mrs. Fredricks for a moment, but if you are in a hurry, I can walk home.’’
‘‘No, I’ll wait. Mister will be late tonight.’’
Pearl returned to the now quiet building and made her way to the school office.
‘‘I take it you are all moved out?’’ Mrs. Fredricks looked up from the books she was counting.
‘‘Yes, and here is my key to the storeroom.’’
‘‘You’ll be back in the fall?’’
‘‘God willing.’’
And if I don’t hear anything good from my application
. As if that could happen.
‘‘Are you planning anything special this summer? I could always use another hand with the girls.’’ Girls were invited to learn needlework, sewing, and cooking skills during the summer months, while the boys had the opportunity to plant and dig in the garden, learn woodwork, and repair tools. Sometimes they helped with the upkeep of the settlement house when there was money for painting and repairs. Mrs. Fredricks could make a nickel squeal.
‘‘I-I’m not sure. Ah, things are . . . are . . .’’
Here you are stuttering
like a schoolchild. Tell her of your application
.
‘‘Well, once you know, I would greatly appreciate any time you can give us.’’ Mrs. Fredricks turned to answer a question from another teacher who had just come into the room.
Pearl waved and, after shutting the door carefully behind her, glanced up at the cross on the wall. She gave a slight bow and made her way back to the waiting carriage. Somehow it seemed that she was saying good-bye.
On the drive home she pondered the feeling. She should be exhilarated, another year was finished, her students had done well, and she had a good man who insisted on courting her, boring though he be.
Several days later her father announced there would be a small social at their home the following evening. ‘‘I have an announcement to make, and I want our closest friends to help us celebrate.’’
‘‘Have you sent out invitations?’’
‘‘No. That is your province, my dear.’’ He turned to Pearl. ‘‘I expect you to help make our guests welcome and take some of the burden off your mother’s shoulders.’’
‘‘I-I see.’’ She glanced to her mother who raised her eyebrows in slight question marks also. ‘‘Do you have a list of those you’d like us to invite?’’
‘‘You know who they are.’’ He ran off a few names from his business world, from their church, and from the other homes in their region. ‘‘And of course, Mr. Longstreet.’’
Pearl nodded. Of course. And here she’d thought to not include him.
The house sparkled the next evening. Extra flowers, including lilies from the hothouse, scented the rooms. Inga outdid herself in her domain, and Pearl’s mother had even hired musicians.
Pearl dressed early and moved gracefully from room to room to make sure everything was perfect. She pulled a wilted blossom from one bouquet and took it to the kitchen to throw in the garbage. ‘‘You look most lovely, Miss Pearl,’’ said Mr. French, the head butler.
‘‘Thank you. Is there anything else I need to see to?’’
‘‘Everything is in order. I have already ascertained that. You and your young man can enjoy the evening along with the others.’’
He’s not my young man. Whatever gives you that idea?
But Pearl kept the thoughts silent. Was there something going on here that she was unaware of?