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Authors: Josephine Bhaer

When Henry Came Home (9 page)

BOOK: When Henry Came Home
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"'Aft’noon," he greeted Henry, his voice quick, though heavy with drawl.

             
"Good afternoon, Mr. McGovern," he returned, crossing the room slowly to open the top drawer of his file cabinet. "I've got your sums right here." He pulled out a file and retraced his steps, sitting down on the other side of his desk, across from McGovern. He handed him the papers. "I've got it all written out there, but if you'd like to go over it we can."

             
McGovern sat forward in his chair, holding the small stack gingerly, as if he were afraid he might involuntarily crumple the papers. "That's all right, Mr. Peterson," he said. "I've had some schoolin' and I read fair enough. I'm in town three days this week—if I got questions, I'll stop on by and ask." He shifted as he spoke, as if itching to be let out for a good run.

             
"That's fine, and you're always welcome here. Anything else you need?"

             
McGovern withdrew a stack of bills from inside his jacket. "N—well—Mr. Peterson, I feel kinda funny askin', but I heard you do other things, besides figures and things."

             
"I can try."

             
"Well—my Georgia, she's goin' back to see her momma, back east I mean. It's way back, though, and Georgia, she's got to spend a few nights over someplace, and then stay at a hotel cause her momma ain't got no room. We—we ain't been east, though, not for years, and I guess I'm kinda fearin' Georgia might get someplace bad, outa necessity like."

             
"When is she going?" Henry knew Georgia, if only in passing. She was as nervous as her husband, though her restlessness truly was anxiety, not just the appearance of it, most likely gained from years of living with such a man. She flustered easy.

             
"Middle of next month."

             
"I can send out some letters, or maybe telegrams, and find her a place to stay. Get her a room in advance, and someone to meet her at the station if you like."

             
McGovern breathed out and grinned, relieved. "That would sure put me at peace, if you could."

             
"I can certainly try."

             
He reached out and shook Henry's hand with a quick up-and-down. "You do that. Ain't nothin' lost if nothin' comes of it." He put down a few large bills. "That's what I owe you plus some towards a room." He tossed on his hat and stood, creasing the papers a little before he remembered and pinned them under one arm. "Thank you again," he said in parting. "I reckon I'll stop in, week after next." He opened the door and was gone.

             
Mary was in the room the next moment, with lunch. She pulled up another chair to Henry's desk and reached out to put her hand in his for a moment before starting in. "I think we'll do fine here," she said. "Just fine."

             
They talked of little things and when Henry next consulted his watch it was well after two. "I better get to workin' or this little place won't be ours for long," he said, somewhat reluctantly.

             
Mary got up. "Grocer asked if I'd choose out some fabrics for him to order this afternoon—think I'll go on over if you're busy." She kissed him. "Want me to get anything out of your files?"

             
"Just—that one, sitting there." She brought it to him and paused at his furtive glance. "There's—I've heard—a production at the theatre house tonight," he said.

             
Mary grinned. "Romeo and Juliet."

             
"Would you like to go?"

             
"Oh, yes! And I promise not to cry."

             
"I don't mind."

             
She spun a circle in the middle of the floor, billowing out her dress lightly. "But I do! I'd feel like a baby." She stopped, and looked at him. "Well, I don't guess that's a bad thing, necessarily." She kissed him again. "I won't be gone an hour."

             
It wasn't five minutes after she left that Henry realized he did need a paper from his file. He paused a moment, his pencil coming to a rest, and looked at it across the room, letting out a short breath that wasn't particularly in irritation. The next instant, he reached for his cane and gripped the side of the desk. He was halfway up when a rap at the door startled him. He sat back, feeling a lancing pain down his side. The upper half of the door was a glass panel, and he motioned for the caller to come in.

             
The handsome man at the door opened it a few inches. "Am I intruding?"

             
Henry shook his head. "No. Please, come in."

             
Mark Rogers—that, as it happened, was indeed the identity of the guest—was a robust, rather handsome man, if aging a little. He entered and offered a hand.

             
Henry took it for a moment and gestured to a chair opposing. "Please, sit down."

             
"Thank you." He smiled easily and settled himself, twirling a silver-tipped cane of his own, obviously meant only for aesthetic purposes, before standing it in a gentlemanly pose between his open knees.

             
Henry's hand rested upon his own leg. "Mr. Rogers—am I correct?"

             
"Yes. I've been looking for you, I suppose you've heard." His voice was of a refined nature; sort of crisp and well-handled.

             
"Yes."

             
He sat back. "Well. I might as well get right to business. You know, of course, that the county board in Hickory runs most of the business for all six towns in the district." He waited a moment for a nod from his companion. "Well, here it is—every town in this county has grown so much in the past ten years, we're looking to start up chambers of commerce in every town, with a mayor, a sheriff, all that. It'll take some time, but we've decided to go ahead and start because it looks like it's going to happen whether we want it to or not, sooner or later. We view it as just another fact of American independence—turning every town over to its own governing, I mean. We
are
a people who rule ourselves." He grinned widely, showing a few crooked but well-placed teeth; they complimented him.

             
"Yes," was Henry's comment, again. He flexed his hand. "But what does this have to do with me?"

             
Rogers sat forward again. "Well—can't you guess?" He smiled.

             
Henry shook his head. "I'm not very good with games."

             
"Well, for heaven's sake, man, I and the men over on the county seat think you're a prime candidate for mayor in this little burg!" He stood, hitching up the cane, and poked it at the ceiling. "Like I said, it'll take some time, but the first thing we're doing is organizing elections for mayor. He'll act as a kind of overseer for the rest."

             
Henry frowned a little. "…Me?"

             
"Yes! You're well known—got clients throughout the county, and probably the state, soon enough. People respect you, and you've got education. That's enough credit for any man, and I can't think of anyone better fit for the job."

             
He shook his head. "No."

             
Rogers looked startled. "No? No to what?"

             
"I don't want to be a mayor. I might consider it if there were some sort of council, where a group of people met to make the decisions, but—no. Not mayor."

             
"But that's exactly the point! As mayor, you could set up a town council. That's the idea—there's going to be things like that sooner or later, but what we need now is someone who knows how to set it up, to get it started."

             
Henry shifted. "You know I'm..." he fingered his cane, worn smooth at the handle.

             
Rogers paused. "What? Oh—man, there's a mayor over in Sifter County, name of Tucker, I believe. He's about eighty and he's been bed-sick for years now. Hasn't stopped anyone from voting for him again and again, even if maybe he isn't altogether there. The point is, man, if you think you are fit, then no one's to say you ain't. Aren't. Except with a fair vote."

             
"I don't think--"

             
"Don't say no right now—think it over. Meanwhile, why don't your lovely wife and you join my lovely wife and I at Romeo and Juliet tonight? We've rented a box, and there's more than enough room for four."

             
Henry looked uneasy. "I'm sorry. Stairs... are a problem for—"

             
Rogers waved a hand, ambling across the room to look out the window. "Nonsense. I've got a hired man who could lift a house if he took a mind to." He looked over his shoulder at Henry, and paused a moment. "Well, join us if you like. If not, I'll be in town again on Tuesday and we can talk then. Please, think it over."

             
"I will, although I can't promise much."

             
"Just promise me you'll think it over, that's all I ask. Think of your town's progress."

             
"I will."

             
Rogers nodded politely and slipped out the door.

 

              When Mary returned from the grocer's, she opened the little wooden door and closed it softly behind, although it rattled pleasantly in any case. Her husband was settled back in his chair, a look of deep-set thought across his brow and eyes. She came towards him and after a moment he blinked and looked at her. She smiled and felt his warm embrace. "What is it?" she asked.

             
He looked up at her briefly. "Rogers. He came by."

             
Mary shook her head and tugged at his arm. "This is no good for sitting," she said, giving a persuasive pout. She didn't like the single-person leather chair, at least not for talking, because she had to sit opposite him, or on the desk, like a customer. She tugged him again and they went into the little bedroom and sat side by side on the bed.

             
"He said they wanted to start governments, in each town, at the local level. He—wants me to be mayor."

             
"Oh," said Mary, half-smiling.

             
"You—think it's silly." He paled slightly.

             
She took his hand. "Oh, no, no!" She moved still closer, suddenly, and put her arms around his neck. "I think it's an honor—him wanting you to do it. I just don't know if you want to. Do you?"

             
He looked at his hands. "I don't know."

             
Mary let herself flop back so she was laid out face-up on the bed, crosswise, and laughed kindly.

             
Henry pushed himself back a little and lay down next to her, staring at the ceiling. "Is it just my arrogance?" he asked, almost to no one in particular, or maybe just himself.

             
Mary grinned. "You ain't got an arrogant bone in your body. All you're concerned about is if everyone will be better off with you or someone else. And if it's you, then you wonder again if maybe you aren't just being arrogant."

             
"Everyone—makes themselves out better than they are, inside." He paused. "What do you think?"

             
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I think... you would make an excellent mayor. The best, in fact. But I don't think you should do it unless you want to."

             
"And there's always the possibility that someone else will run."

             
"And if he's the better man?"

             
"I'll drop my name from the ballot."

             
"So you aren't arrogant."

             
Henry was silent.

             
"Got you!" Mary giggled and rolled over to kiss him, but he remained solemn.

             
"There are things... I wouldn't do. Things maybe I'm supposed to do if I want to be mayor."

             
"You can talk it over with Rogers, I guess."

             
"Mary—if I decide—not to do this—you won't think less of me?"

             
She sat up on one elbow and ran a hand through his hair. She closed her eyes, feeling the shape of his scalp. "No. No, Hen, not at all."

             
"Rogers wants us to sit with him, tonight at the theatre. ...He's got a box with his wife."

             
Mary scrunched up her nose, opening her eyes again. "Do we really have to?" Her voice hinted at a whine. "Or will we offend?"

BOOK: When Henry Came Home
5.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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