Sweet Everlasting (2 page)

“Yes, all right,” she faltered, thrown off her stride. “Well. Good-bye.” Ty opened the door for her, and she sailed out with her nose in the air.

The girl was sitting on the floor cross-legged, cradling the dog’s head in her lap. Tyler squatted down beside her, changing a grunt of pain into a hum of doctorly speculation just in time. “Is your name Carrie?” he asked. She nodded.

“I’m Broom!”

“Hello, Broom. I’m Dr. Wilkes.” He reached out a hand to scratch the dog’s ears, murmuring, “Good dog, Shadow’s a good dog.” The long nose was dry and hot with fever; the bright eyes rolled toward him in a feeble panic. A quick touch told him its ribs were broken. “Hold his head,” he told the girl, and bent down to press his ear to the side of the dog’s chest. Its lungs were filling with fluid. “What happened to him?”

Carrie ducked her head.

“Did Artemis do it?” Broom asked her. She wouldn’t look up. “Artemis done it,” he said positively.

“Who’s Artemis?”

“Carrie’s pa.”

She glanced up then, but Tyler couldn’t read the expression in her eyes. Unusual eyes, troubled, the color of the sky before a violent storm. She’d thrown off her shawl, revealing reddish-blond hair tied back in an artless, disheveled knot. Her clothes were poor and patched, painfully neat, country-plain. But she was pretty, and her long, fine-boned face looked intelligent.

“Where do you live, Carrie?” he asked. Her cloudy eyes darkened; an awkward moment passed, and then she put her fingertips to her lips. She was about to explain her handicap to him—somehow—and he wondered with a stab of regret what had made him ask her the question, any question, when he’d known she couldn’t answer.

But Broom spoke up for her. “Lives on Dreamy. Carrie and her pa, they live up on Dreamy.”

“Do you? It’s beautiful there,” he smiled, hoping she would smile back. But she only nodded in agreement. He laid his hand on Shadow’s grizzled muzzle. Even though his touch was light, the dog let out a weak, fearful snarl. “I’ll keep him overnight if you like,” he decided. “He won’t suffer. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Her,” Broom corrected. “Shadow’s a girl dog.”

The distress in Carrie’s face lifted at once; she put her fingers on Tyler’s wrist, just for a second, and her mouth curved in a wisp of a smile. Her silent gratitude moved him. He and Broom clambered to their feet at the same moment, constrained by the same refinement of feeling, when she bent her head to Shadow’s and put her lips on the old dog’s temple in a soft kiss. Then she rose, too, in a long, fluid movement at odds with her graceless clothes, blinking back tears.

He told her to come back the next day, and she nodded and thanked him again with her eyes. He stood in the doorway as she walked out to the road and climbed up on the seat of the wagon, settling her worn skirts around her. “Bye, Doc!” called Broom. Carrie waved, a wan, forlorn twitch of the hand that matched her good-bye smile. She gave the mule a light slap of the reins, and they started off, Broom trotting alongside.

Tyler watched them to the corner at Broad Street until they turned east and disappeared. The low twilight sky looked mean and menacing; the wind blew a gust of sleet in his face. How far up High Dreamer Mountain did the girl have to go? Dreamy, the locals called it; he could see its pine-dark silhouette off to his left, hazy with distance and the milky swirl of snow. He shivered and went back inside, where it was warm.

I
T SMELLED LIKE A
big snow coming. You could tell by the sky sometimes, but this late in the day you could only tell by the smell. Carrie took a deep breath of damp air, feeling the prickly frozen pinch in her nostrils. The juncos and tree sparrows had been singing all afternoon, and that was another sure sign a storm was coming. How did they always know? She’d had enough of snow, enough of winter, but the sparrows’ music had lifted her heart a little today in spite of everything—for a bird singing on a dark day was a special blessing, and God parceled those out in February pretty sparingly.

“Shadow’ll get well, Carrie. That new doc, he’ll fix her up, so don’t worry, okay?”

She nodded, pulling on the reins to slow the mule down so that Broom wouldn’t have to walk so fast to keep up. She put her ice-cold hands between her knees, wishing she’d brought her mittens. But she’d left home too fast this afternoon to think about anything except Shadow.

“He’s nice, ain’t he? And a good doc, too. Ain’t he, Carrie? Did you see how he touched Shadow? So soft and everything? Remember, Carrie?”

She nodded again, remembering it fine. She remembered how tired Dr. Wilkes had looked, as if he didn’t get enough rest. Or food, either—he didn’t have enough flesh on his bones for the size of man he was. But mostly she remembered what kind eyes he had once he’d gotten over being angry because she’d brought him a dog. “I’m a doctor, I don’t fix dogs,” he’d scolded, mad as anything. But Shadow was lying beside the warm coal stove in his waiting room, and Carrie bet he was tending to her at this very minute.

Broom’s left arm flew up and flapped in the air awhile before it dropped back down to his side. Like somebody hoisting a flag and then deciding against it, thought Carrie. “Spring!” he burst out all of a sudden, spittle flying. “She don’t like me, Carrie, I can tell! You think she likes me? Did you see that fur thing she had? She put her hands in to keep ’em warm, in that little fur thing. Shadow’s nice and warm right now and the doc’s fixing her. I like the doc, don’t you?”

“Carrie! Hoo-ooo, Carrie Wiggins!”

She turned around on the seat, and waved when she saw Eppy Odell coming out of the yard goods store. Eppy was her best friend; her only friend, to tell the truth, except for Broom and Dr. Stoneman. Hauling on Petey’s reins, she stopped and waited for Eppy to hurry along the sidewalk till she caught up to the wagon.

“Hello, Broom,” said Eppy. She looked plump and pretty in her brown winter coat, like a little mama rabbit.

“Hi, Miz Odell.” Broom backed away, shy as a turtle, not able to look her in the eye.

Eppy gave a little shake of the head to Carrie, which she knew meant,
That boy, I’ll swear.
“What brings you into town so late, Carrie?” she asked.

She started to fumble in her pocket for her notebook and pencil, but Broom found his courage and spoke up for her. “Her dog got hurt, and she took it to the doc’s house, and now he’s curing it.”

“What’s that? You took your
dog
to see Dr.
Wilkes?”

Carrie spread her hands.
I had to,
she wished she could say.
She was hurt so bad, I couldn’t help her myself.

“For goodness sake.” Eppy looked like she wanted to laugh, but Carrie thought the expression on her own face must’ve told her not to. “You mean the dog’s there now?”

“Yeah, the doc’s curing her,” Broom answered, shuffling his feet, one wild wrist flying.

“Well, I declare.”

Carrie put her hand on her stomach and raised her eyebrows, asking Eppy how the new baby was.

“Oh, fine, we’re fine. I saw Dr. Wilkes myself yesterday, as a matter of fact, and he says October. I told him it better be a boy this time, or Frank’ll leave me for sure.”

Eppy laughed, and Carrie smiled, enjoying the sound. Eppy had the best laugh of anyone she knew. And of course she wouldn’t really mind another girl—her fifth—and Frank Odell wouldn’t leave her in a hundred years. Mr. Odell owned the town newspaper, the
Clarion;
except for Dr. Stoneman, Carrie thought he was probably the smartest man in Wayne’s Crossing.

“Carrie, there’s a covered-dish dinner this Saturday in the church basement, and Frank and I want you to go with us.”

She nodded thank you and shook her head no.

Eppy clucked her tongue. “That’s just what I told Frank you’d say. Why not?”

She shrugged, smiled, shook her head again.

“Well, it’s too cold to stand here arguing with you. Where’s your coat, anyway? You get on home, it’ll be pitch-dark before you get there as it is. Have you got a lantern? Go on, and Broom, it’s time you got home, too. I’ll talk to you again, Carrie, about Saturday,” she warned, waved good-bye, and bustled off toward Truitt Avenue.

Carrie slapped Petey into motion and moved on, thinking how grown up and bossy Eppy was to be only twenty-six years old. Most of the time she acted more like Carrie’s mother than her friend, and she guessed that suited both of them fine.

“Is Miz Odell gonna have another baby, Carrie?” Broom wanted to know, jogging along beside her again. “Let’s you and me have one, okay? We could keep it at my house so Artemis couldn’t get it. Want to? Let’s, Carrie, let’s get one of our own. You could take care of it, and I could …” He stopped talking to think, which was rare, and Carrie couldn’t decide if she felt like laughing or crying. Because neither one of them was ever going to get a baby.

All at once Broom stopped in his tracks, and she looked up Cumberland Street to see what he was staring at. Three men were walking toward them, swaggering and laughing, bumping up against each other like overgrown puppies. Even though it was almost dark, she could tell the one in the middle was Eugene Starkey just by the way he moved. She didn’t know anyone else who walked like that, as if he owned the whole town, or maybe the whole world. “Uh oh,” said Broom. “Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh.” He was talking to himself; he didn’t even know she was there anymore.
Run away,
she wanted to tell him,
run away before they see you.

“Hey, Fireman!”

Too late. The two young men on either side of Eugene broke into jerky runs, mimicking Broom, and before he could flee they had him surrounded, with the wagon at his back.

“Hey, Fireman,” Lee Burney taunted him, “you put out any big ones lately?”

Henry Sheffler twitched his arms and waved his hands in Broom’s face, hooting with laughter.

Carrie had seen it so often, suffered something like it herself more times than she could count. She bit her lips, helpless, wanting to shout. Finally she banged her flat hand against the side of the wagon, over and over, until the boys left off tormenting Broom and looked up at her.

“Hi, Carrie,” they said in singsong voices, nudging each other.

Eugene came up behind them. “Evening, Miss Carrie.” He tipped his woolen cap and grinned at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Broom backing away; at the first chance, he whirled around and ran as fast as he could down Broad Street.

“What do you say?” prompted Eugene. “How’s Miss Carrie Wiggins today? You’re looking mighty pretty. Can I go home with you?” They all guffawed.

Carrie slapped Petey’s reins, but Eugene reached out and took hold of his harness, stopping him. “What’re you doing in town today?” he persisted, coming toward her, patting Petey’s rump on the way. “Come on, write me one of your little notes.”

She frowned at him and shook her head, mad, pointing at the mule.
Let me go, Eugene.

“Henry, you and Lee go on ahead, I’ll catch up,” he instructed without taking his eyes off her. That started them to snickering and teasing, but he ignored them. “Go on, I’ll see you at the Duck in a minute. Go on, now.” The “Duck” was the Blue Duck Tavern, where Eugene always went after work. The boys joshed him for a little longer but then they obeyed, as she’d known they would. Eugene was their leader: they always did whatever he said.

When they’d gone off, he moved in closer and laid hold of her right shoe with his hand. “Boys didn’t mean nothing with ol’ Broom, Carrie. Honest. Come on, they didn’t hurt him, did they?”

She pinched her lips together, disapproving. He looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to keep being nice to her or get mad and say something nasty. She just waited, for it always came to that between them eventually, one way or the other.

“Aw, come on, gimme a smile.” He gave her worn old shoe a little shake.

Shame on you,
she told him with her eyes; but he kept on grinning, trying to charm her. She knew there were lots of girls—Teenie Yingling, for one—who thought he was handsome, and she supposed he was in a way. He was tall and strong and brawny, with thick brown hair he parted in the middle and a wiry mustache he put wax on sometimes. When he wasn’t working at the Wayne Tool and Die, he wore fancy clothes that he went all the way to Chambersburg to buy. Eppy said he was “well turned out,” which meant, as far as Carrie could tell, that he spent a lot of time in front of the mirror.

“Guess what, Carrie, I got promoted today. You’re looking at the new turning department assistant foreman.” He stuck one hand through his belt and puffed out his chest. “I’m making more money right now than my daddy made farming all his life, and I’m only twenty years old.”

She smiled and nodded; but she must not have looked impressed enough, because he finally got the belligerent look on his face that she was much more used to. “What’s
your
old man make?” he demanded, surly. “When he’s not falling down drunk, that is. I heard they don’t even let him near the saw anymore at Bone’s Mill, because they’re afraid he’ll cut himself in half, or somebody else. That is one worthless son of a bitch, Carrie, you can’t deny it.”

No, she couldn’t deny it; but she wasn’t going to agree with him, either. She pulled her shawl tighter and gave the reins an impatient shake.

“Whoa, now, not so fast.” He reached for the lead leather again and held it. Stared at it for a few seconds, fingering it, scowling and tongue-tied. Carrie couldn’t have been more surprised when he blurted out, “Will you go with me to the Wolf’s Club social on Saturday night?” And when his face got dark and mottled-looking, as though he might be blushing, she couldn’t believe her eyes. “You could meet me there, or I could come up the mountain and get you, whichever you want. Starts at seven. So, will you go with me?”

She looked down at her hands, then back up at Eugene. Slowly and gently, she shook her head.

“Why not?”

She shrugged, then pulled her notebook out of her pocket! Her fingers were stiff with cold, and it took awhile to write,
I just can’t. Thank you for asking.

He folded the paper up after he’d read it and stuffed it in his coat pocket. She thought he’d turn ugly now, but he said almost kindly, “Nobody’d make fun of you, Carrie. You’d be with me, and I’d take care of you. Come on, you’d have a good time.”