Deliver Us from Evie (13 page)

She sang,

“
I would not live without thee
,

not a day
,
not a day.

I need thy strength to help me
,

all the way
,
all the way.
”

I loved that voice of hers.

But I never could forget Mr. Kidder’s voice, either.
The man’s in charge…. I hold you responsible
,
Parr.

D
OUG WAS HOME FOR T
he summer.

The last day in June, there was a benefit dance over at County to raise money for the coach there, who needed a kidney transplant. They’d opened the school especially for it.

I was getting dressed, picking Angel up at seven.

Doug had come up from the farrowing house as Dad was upstairs showering, and he waited until the water stopped running.

Then he called in at him, “We need a vet, Dad.”

“
Now
?”

“Right now! How long since Doc Rothwell’s been over here?”

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s great. What’s he running, some kind of fire-engine practice?”

Dad opened the bathroom door. “I call him when I need him.”

“That’s what I mean. You call him when the fire’s already started. You seen those new barrows and gilts?”

“I was in the nursery not an hour ago.”

“Well, they’re in trouble. They been in trouble awhile.”

“They’re fine,” said Dad.

“No way. They got something.”

“You come back here hot from your college, you haven’t been paying attention here, and you tell me—”

Doug didn’t let him finish. “I tell you they’re sick.
I’ll
call Rothwell if you won’t.”

“You’re not calling anybody!” I could hear the fear in Dad’s voice, though. I could hear him stamping out into the hall. “What do
you
know?”

“I know a lot more than you do!”

“You don’t know
anything
!” That was all we needed, sick pigs, and Dad couldn’t stand hearing it.

Then Doug said, “It’s your farm. I don’t give a damn if you want to let them
all
die. Let them! I try to tell you something, and if you don’t care to hear it, you give me a fight!”

“It’s your farm too,” Dad said.

“We’ll talk about that. I’m calling Rothwell.”

“Talk about what?” Dad said.

That was the start.

Rothwell got called, but while they were waiting for him to come from King’s Corners, Doug blurted out that he’d changed his major … and his plans.

I didn’t stick around to hear the rest of it.

That was the advantage of wheels.

You could just take off.

The first drops of rain started as I was heading toward Floodtown.

When I got there, Mr. Kidder was standing outside the trailer, under the tin overhang, looking up at the sky.

“You see that bank of black clouds, Parr?”

“It doesn’t look good, sir.”

“You be careful tonight. I think it’s going to come down hard just about the time you’re leaving that dance.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re leaving at ten forty-five, Parr.”

“The dance will go on until midnight, sir.”

He ignored that. He said, “Unless it’s really coming down. Then leave before quarter to. I’ll expect Angel home at eleven thirty, earlier if the storm’s heavy.”

I was standing there under an umbrella, listening to the rain on the metal roof of the trailer.

Angel appeared in the doorway.

“Get her home safe and on time, Parr.”

I said I would.

I meant it, too.

There was nothing then to make me think that wouldn’t happen.

K
IDS WHO CAME TO
the County dances usually came in groups, boys together, girls together.

There were some couples like Angel and me, but Angel was the only one from King’s Corners.

We didn’t hang out with a crowd, so it was a while before the gossip drifted down to us.

It was Spots Starr who came up to us at the punch bowl.

By that time the thunder was crashing above us, and the rain was pouring down on the gym roof.

“Where’s your sister tonight, Parr?” Spots asked me.

“She’s in New York City every night now. Why?”

“My dad’s been looking for Patsy Duff. They got back from Kansas City this afternoon and then she took off.”

“Well, she hasn’t been near our place.”

“Oh, we know that,” he said, as though he was working in the sheriff’s office. “Mr. Duff thought Patsy was just going for a drive in the Porsche. Then he saw she’d taken all her luggage with her, still packed.”

“I thought she was going to Europe,” I said.

“So did he,” Spots said. “She was supposed to leave for France Fourth of July. Then pffft!” He smiled with his perfect white teeth. He smelled of aftershave.

I shrugged, but my heart was racing. “She’ll probably show up in time.”

“My dad bets not.”

“I don’t know anything about it,” I said.

“If we knew, we wouldn’t tell,” Angel put in.

“I know
you
,” said Spots. “I saw you in St. Luke’s last Christmas. You’re from The Church of the Heavenly Spirit.” He was looking all over her face.

“I don’t know you,” said Angel.

“He’s the sheriff’s son,” I told her. And I told him, “This is Angel Kidder.”

He said, “How come you wouldn’t tell if you knew where they were?”

“We
know
where my sister is,” I said. “She’s not missing.”

“How come you wouldn’t tell, Angel?” said Spots.

“Because I’d let them alone.”

“If they were together you wouldn’t tell?” Spots asked Angel. He was leaning down so he could see into her eyes.

Angel shook her head.

“That isn’t what they teach you in your church, I bet.”

“I’m not
in
my church,” said Angel.

Spots laughed. He said, “And I bet there’s no dykes in your church.”

“Why don’t you go see?” said Angel.

“Hey!” said Spots. “You got your ruff up, haven’t you?”

I could tell he liked Angel. He was giving her this lopsided smile, hugging himself, lightning flashing past the windows and he didn’t even look out.

I got Angel back on the dance floor, and he tried to cut in a few times. We didn’t let him.

We sat out all the Paul Joneses, too. We just wanted to be together.

We sat on a pair of folding chairs, trying to believe the thunder wouldn’t come through the walls. It was already drowning out The County Seven, who were sounding the cymbals and drums every time there was another huge BOOM.

“I hope they’re together,” Angel said, and I didn’t have to ask who “they” were. “I’m on their side now, because I keep thinking what if it was us people were trying to stop.”

I told her all about Cousin Joe in Quincy, the way Dad made fun of him. I told her I thought Dad was embarrassed by Evie now that she was out of the closet; it was
that
more than it was morals with him.

“It’s morals with my folks, but I never told them Evie really is one—they’d die!”

“She’s better off gone.”

“I’d hate to be her. I mean, I’m
for
her, and I like her, but I couldn’t stand being that way.”

“When you first met Evie, did you think you’d hate to be like her?”

“I didn’t think about it at all. I never would have wore stuff she wears, but I didn’t think she was that different until the sign went up on the bayonet.”

I took a deep breath. “I put it there,” I said.

“You did not!”

“I’m telling you! I had some beers with Cord, and even though it was his bright idea, I went along with it.”

“You did that to your own sister?”

“I wasn’t thinking about what it’d mean to Evie. I didn’t want to hurt Evie. I just wished I could get rid of Patsy Duff, so things would get back to normal on our place.”

There was a great clatter of thunder and lightning underlining my confession.

I said, “I’m paying for it now.”

“You mean the storm?”

“No. I mean the farm. I’m stuck with the farm.”

The heavens must have liked hearing the truth. I got a few more claps of thunder for telling it.

At ten o’clock the principal at County took a bullhorn and announced the dance was ending because of the weather.

“Be very careful driving home, those of you who have cars. The buses are out front right now, waiting to load.”

We lost the umbrella to the wind on the way to the Pontiac. We were soaked when we got inside.

“This is so exciting, Parr!” said Angel. “Turn on some music.”

She was combing her wet hair and jumping up and down in the seat, and when I stuck the key in the ignition, she put her hand on my wrist.

“Not yet. Let’s just stay here awhile.”

“I got to get you home.”

“We’ve got a perfect excuse.”

“We can’t stay long, though.”

She was reaching for me, pulling me toward her. She whispered in my ear, “I’ve never kissed anyone with the sky lighting up like it is.”

Around us cars were starting, and in the distance there was a roll of thunder.

“It’s going away from us,” I said.

“Don’t you go away.”

I don’t know how long we were there before we heard the DJ interrupt a Billy Ray Cyrus song to say Illinois Route 57 down near Quincy was flooded, and power failures had plunged the area into darkness.

“We have to go,” I said. “Now!”

“You’re no fun, Parr.”

“Didn’t you hear what he just said?”

“Quincy’s miles and miles away.”

“Yeah, well, we’re getting out of here!”

She sat very close, and we started off fine, but we were still outside Duffton when the rain washed across the windshield so hard I couldn’t see.

Angel got very quiet suddenly, and I could feel her leaning forward beside me, as though she was steering the car, too.

“I
never
saw it like this,” she said.

“I have to stop.”

“Just pull over and stop.”

“Where’s over?”

I cut the motor.

“We’re not going to make it unless this lets up,” I said.

“Let’s just wait, then.”

It was eleven thirty.

We just sat there. We talked about the coming Fourth of July picnic out at the county fairgrounds. There was an amateur hour included every year, and I was trying to talk Angel into singing something. Both our families were going. Everyone was. Angel said it was too big a crowd, she’d be too nervous.

After a while we couldn’t think of any more to say. The storm was getting worse. We couldn’t see anything in the pitch black outside.

All I could think about was Mr. Kidder, and what state of mind he’d be in by then.

Whatever Angel was thinking about, it wasn’t exciting her to touch me anymore.

“Daddy’s going to kill me,” she finally said.

“He’s not going to kill
you
,” I said.

We were still there at two
A.M.
when a highway patrol picked us up in a Land Rover.

Spots Starr was with the officer. “I knew you two were back this way,” he said. “I saw you behind the gym when I left, so I knew you didn’t get far.”

They dropped me off before they took Angel on to Floodtown.

“Call me when you get in,” I said helplessly. “I won’t go to bed until I hear from you.”

“T
HAT’S FOR ME,” I
said. The rain was still pounding down.

“We know who it’s for,” said Doug. “He’s been calling here every hour on the hour.”

“This isn’t Mr. Kidder. It’s Angel,” I said.

It was him.

“This entire thing could have been avoided,” he barked, “if you’d left when everyone else did!”

I began a lie. “We left right after every—”

He was wise to me. “I told you it’d be over between you two if you weren’t responsible, so I’m giving you notice that it’s over!”

I could see Mom in the kitchen, cleaning the mud off my good shoes. Our yard and driveway were mush.

“I’m sorry, sir. May I talk to Angel?”

Doug was sitting on the couch with his hands covering his eyes, as though he hurt for me.

“No, you cannot talk to Angel,” said Mr. Kidder. “Not now, not ever again. I warned you, Parr!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but—”

There was a click, then a dial tone.

I put the receiver down.

Mom called in, “Now can we all go to bed?”

Dad was already there.

“He slept all through this?” I asked Doug as we undressed in our room.

“Dad sleeps off depressions. He took my news like a death in the family, went straight to bed after supper.”

“Then he doesn’t know Angel’s father was calling here?”

“He doesn’t even know about Duff’s calls. Mom handled that. Duff’s got an all points alert out on the Porsche. He doesn’t believe Evie’s in New York. He said there was no way Patsy’d drive all that distance. He thinks they’re in St. Louis, or why would she have taken the car? … Mom had to give him Evie’s number, finally.”

“Do you think Patsy’s on her way to Evie?”

“I give up on those two! I got sick pigs to worry about. Rothwell thinks it might be worse than I thought it was. Dad won’t believe it!”

We listened to the radio in the dark for a while, heard a report that the Mississippi had risen over a foot already.

“I hope the levees hold,” said Doug.

“What’ll I do?” I said. “Go over there and try to reason with him?”

“Good God, Parr! Grow up! We’ve got more important things to worry about … like what are we going to do if this weather sticks with us for a while?”

“Why would it?”

“Why
wouldn’t
it? And they’ve been watching that river since April. It was above the technical flood level at Quincy’s lock and dam back then, and it hasn’t budged. Now it’s rising.”

Mom poked her head in the door.

“You two stop talking. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

I said, “Good night, Mom.”

“Good night, honey. Don’t worry, now. Mr. Kidder was just upset. Tomorrow he’ll realize you two couldn’t help that there was a storm.”

“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t know how I was going to tell her about us staying behind the gym while the other cars left.

“Get some sleep, Mom,” said Doug.