Diary of a Wildflower (11 page)

After
a while I say, “I should go in and see if I can help with dinner.”

I
go to the kitchen where I find Jewel is beside herself with excitement.

“He
is soo…oo cute, Lorie!  Where did you find him?”

“In
the house of the Lord,” I say, and we giggle.

“You
look like a bluebird,” Bea says.

I
offer to finish frying the squash.

“No,
no, no,” says Bea.  “You’ll get grease on your dress.  Go out there
and stay with your company.  Me and Jewel will get dinner on the table.”

I
do as she says.  As soon as Eddie sees me at the door, he starts playing
Five
Foot, Two. 

During
dinner I sit beside Eddie and find that I can barely eat.  But Eddie eats
enough for both of us.  He shovels it in like it’s his last meal. 
And he can’t say enough about how
good it is.

He
turns to me and asks, “Can you cook like this?”

“No,
Bea and Jewel are the cooks,” I say.

“For
a girl her age,” Dad says, “Lorie is as good a cook as you’ll find.”

I
am so surprised I nearly choke.

“That’s
true,” Charles agrees, and so does everybody else.

Oh,
I see.  They are all captivated now, and want to make sure Eddie will come
back.

“My
mama don’t cook much,” Eddie says.  “She’s sickly.”

“Sorry
to hear that,” Bea says.  “What’s the matter with her?”

“First
one thing, then another,” Eddie says.  He looks at the radio in the corner
and changes the subject.  “Nice radio.”

“Wanna
hear it?” Daniel asks.

“No,
that’s okay,” Eddie says.  “Maybe next time.”

Next
time?  Jewel’s eyes meet mine, and she grins.  Talk about a
charmer.  I have found one for sure.

After
eating, Eddie turns to me and says, “I’m partial to old places like y’all got
here.  Wanna give me a tour?”

“Yeah,
take him to see the garden,” Charles says.  “There might be a ripe
watermelon.”

“Maybe
he’d like some tomatoes to take home,” Bea says.

“Show
him the new calf,” Dad says.

“Yeah,
I’d like to see a baby calf,” Eddie readily agrees.

“Y’all
go on,” Bea says.  “Me and Jewel will clean up the kitchen.”

As
soon as we’re out of sight, Eddie says, “You look like a magazine cover.”

Then
he takes my hand, holds me at arm’s length and makes me turn slowly for
him.  He whistles through his teeth, and I feel my face grow warm.

We
visit the new calf first.  We say how pretty it is.  We go see the
garden.  He says what a nice garden it is.  I don’t check the
watermelons.  I know I’m not going to carry one back to the house, and I’m
not going to ask Eddie to carry it either.  I tell him we have tomatoes in
the kitchen that he can take home if he wants them.  He says his mama will
be tickled.  She loves fresh tomatoes for breakfast with pork chops and
scrambled eggs.  I say that sounds good.  We do some more chatting
about absolutely nothing as we walk by the spring and the willow.

“What
is Seasons like?” I ask.

“Real
nice.  I grew up
there.”                  

“Is
it a big town, small town, or what?”

“Real
small, but bigger than Deep Bottom.”

“Deep
Bottom is not a town,” I say.  “It’s a wide place in the road with a church,
a school and a store.”

“Seasons
has a lot of stores.”

“Why
would you move from there to here?”

He
does not answer me.

“Well,
I thought you would never run out of things to say!” I tease him.

He
grins at me.  Then he clutches my hand firmly and pulls me into the
enchanted forest where the sleeping beauty waits for the kiss of the
prince.  Once we are well hidden by the trees, Eddie brings me to a halt,
and runs his hand down the length of my hair.  My scalp prickles.

“So
soft,” he says.

I
stand still while he puts those big hands around my waist just as I fantasized
in church. Then he pushes me against a tree, pins me there with his weight, and
lowers his face to mine.  I can feel every part of his body.

The
thought flies through my head that this is the spot where Trula picked me up
from the ice to haul me home that day so long ago.  Such an odd thing to
remember right now.  Then there comes a hiccup in time, a tick without a
tock.  It places me back in that day as a little girl again, cold and lost
in the frozen forest.  I am looking at that bank of ice on the
ridge.  But this time I don’t see the sleeping beauty there.  I see
something else.

Eddie
begins kissing my throat as he slides one hand up under my dress.  With a
shiver I drop back into this warm July day.  I manage to place a hand on
each of his shoulders and shove as hard as I can.  I dislodge him enough
to extricate myself from his trap.

“What’s
wrong?” he says.

I
look up at him.  He’s a foot taller than me.

“You’re
a jumpy little thing, ain’t you?” he says with a grin.

“This
does not feel right,” I mumble.

“What? 
What’s not right, honey-bunch?”

“This. 
You.  Me.  It feels all wrong.”

His
brow wrinkles up.  “Don’t you want a kiss?”

I
can only shake my head and start back toward the house at a brisk walk. 
He follows.

“What?”
he says.  “You mad?  You want me to go now?”

“Yes,
you should go”.

No
sooner said than done.  Eddie retrieves his guitar and says goodbye. 
Bea hands him a paper poke with tomatoes in it.  Everybody tells him to
come again soon.  He does not reply.  I walk with him as far as
Willy’s Road.  There we pause, and he looks down at me with an expression
of anger and bewilderment.

“Opal
may hear about your being here,” I tell him, “but she will not hear it from
me.”

He
turns and leaves without saying goodbye, and I walk back to the house.

As
I come to the porch, they are all still there.  Dad is standing at the top
of the steps with a look on his face that I know well, and have come to dread. 
What is
he
mad about?

“You
look like a floozy in that dress,” is what he says to me.  “You git up the
stairsteps right now and take it off.  And if I ever see you in it again,
I’ll take a switch to them naked legs.”

August, 1928

As
summer winds down, Bea, Jewel and I work hard at canning the bounty from the
garden before it rots on the vine.  We put up what seems like tons of
pickles, green beans, butter beans, corn and tomatoes.  Then Daniel and
Clint come in with three buckets of blackberries, the last of the season. 
We can some of them and use the rest for jam.

Toward
the end of the month Charles, Daniel and I take Abe and the wagon to Call’s to
buy our winter supply of dry goods.  On Gospel Road we see two cars
hauling strangers.  I know they are going to Uncle Ben’s for some
mysterious purpose, but who knows what?

In
the evening my two favorite people, Samuel and Jewel, are with me in the garden
cleaning out some of the vegetable beds to make room for winter greens and
sweet potatoes.  Samuel is not getting much done, as he starts coughing
every time he bends over.

Finally
I say to him, “Why don’t you sit down over yonder and rest?  Jewel and I
can do this.  You obviously don’t feel well.”

“I’m
all right,” he says.

Not
a minute later he has another coughing fit, and without a word, he does what I
suggested.  He sits down by the edge of the garden.

“Now
that I have your attention,” I say to him, “will you please tell me what’s
going on at Uncle Ben’s?”

He
glances at Jewel.

“I
know how to keep my mouth shut,” she says.  “Tell it.”

“It
makes no difference now,” Samuel says.  “The word is out.  Do y’all
know what prohibition is?”

Jewel
shakes her head no.

“I
do,” I say.  “It means that alcohol is against the law.”

“That’s
right,” Samuel says, “and Uncle Ben is involved in the illegal liquor trade.”

“What! 
Uncle Ben sells liquor?” I say.

Jewel
stops digging and leans on her hoe.  “He’s making moonshine?”

“I
don’t know if he’s making liquor or just stocking it and selling it, or
both.  At any rate, that’s why he fixed the road – to make it more
convenient for people to get to his ‘business establishment’.  This is
common knowledge.”

“If
it’s common knowledge, why don’t he get arrested?” Jewel asks.

“Pay-offs,”
Samuel says.  “That’s how it is everywhere right now.  You share your
profits with law enforcement, and they stay out of your way.”

“I
can’t believe it,” I say.

“What
part?  The part about Uncle Ben selling it, or the law not doing anything
about it?”

“Both. 
I can’t believe all this has been happening right here on Starr Mountain, and I
didn’t have a clue as to what was going on.”

“You’re
naïve.”

“I
am not as naïve as I used to be,” I say.

“Since
Eddie Johns?” he says, and gives me a knowing smile.

“I
thought he was real nice,” Jewel says peevishly, “and Lorie ran him off.”

“I
saw him and Opal together,” Samuel says.  He watches my face for some
reaction.

“She
can have him,” I say.  “He’s a fickle beau.”

“There
is talk at the mine about Eddie and his family,” Samuel says.

“What
are they saying?”

“Mr.
Johns lost his job in Seasons because he couldn’t stay sober.  That’s why
they left.  Mrs.  Johns is a drunk too, and the boy is headed that
way himself.  The girl needs rescuing.  Maybe Vic will do that.”

“That
can’t be so!” Jewel says.  “Eddie’s not like that.”

“I
also know that Uncle Ben’s chief supplier in the liquor business is a relative
of the Johns from Bluefield,” Samuel continues.  “He brings a car full of something
every time he comes to visit, and he comes often.”

“That
would be Uncle Arch,” I say.

“Do
you know him?”

“No,
but I know the car.  It’s a shiny blue 1925 Chevrolet Superior.”

“Have
you been in that car!” Samuel barks.

“Only
once,” I say.  “It was the night I went to church with Opal and Vic. 
That’s where I met Eddie and Rose.  They brought me home – all of them.”

“Don’t
ever step foot in that car again,” Samuel orders.

“You
don’t have to tell me that!”

The
wheel barrow is full of debris, and Samuel hauls it away.

On
returning, he says, “What happened with Eddie?  Didn’t you like him?”

“Oh,
I liked him.  I liked him
too
much.  He gave me chills in my
tum.”

Jewel
giggles and Samuel grins.

“So,
did he get too fresh?” Samuel asks.

I
sidestep the question.  “I had a vision.”

Samuel
laughs.  “You mean like a religious experience?”

“Something
like that,” I say.  “In the blink of an eye I saw myself the wife of a
coal miner, pinning clothes on a line, and all these little toddlers, four or
five of them, were hanging on to my dresstail.”

Now
Samuel and Jewel both laugh out loud.

“That
really is a scary picture,” Samuel says.

“It
was terrifying.  I was in despair.  It was too late to choose another
life, and I knew that I was in this mess because I had allowed myself to be
pulled and pushed and jerked around by a bully and a two-timer.”

“So
you ended that little romance before it could get started?” Samuel says.

“Nipped
it in the bud,” say I.

September, 1928

At
our first Saturday class of the new school year, a Mr. Evans, arrives with the
other teachers.  He is younger than Mr. Harmon, but not as handsome. 
He is also married.  With four instructors now, the subjects are divided
according to each teacher’s specialty.  Mr. Evans is to teach all the math
and science and Mr. Harmon will teach all the literature and language
skills.  The two lady teachers will share the social studies and
miscellaneous subjects.

Opal
hugs me and says how good it is to see me again, so I think I can safely assume
she does not know about my episode with Eddie.  Vic tells me he and Rose
are going to marry as soon as he graduates highschool.  Mr. Harmon asks me
how my summer went, and I tell him it was too long and too slow, and I’m ready to
go back to work.

“That’s
my girl,” he says.  “Ready for World Literature?”

“What
great minds will we study this year?”

“We’re
starting with Shakespeare, then Tolstoy and Hugo.”

When
I get home, I find that Samuel is coughing violently.  I make him go to
bed and carry hot tea to him.

“Do
you think it’s bronchitis again?” I ask as I fluff up his pillows.

“No,
it’s the coal dust,” he admits.  “Go ahead and say you told me so. 
I’m quitting the mine.”

“Good!”
I say.  “I just wish you hadn’t waited so long.”

“We’ve
had a little money these past few years, Lorelei.  We won’t have it
anymore.”

“What
good is the money if you lose your health?” I say.

He
smiles.  “You sound more and more grown-up every day.”

“Just
rest,” I tell him.  “I’ll bring your supper when it’s ready.”

Samuel
is sick the whole week, but by Saturday he feels well enough to walk down the
mountain with me on my way to class, to spend the day with Caroline, but he’ll
be home by dark.  He never spends the night at Caroline’s house because of
her position as a teacher.  The old busy bodies watch her like a hawk.

When
my classes are over, I go to Call’s and pick up the mail.  There’s a
letter from Trula, which I read immediately.  She suggests we have one of
our reunions at Roxie’s Park before the weather turns cold.  Good
idea.  I will write her back tonight.

I
take a nickel out of my bookbag and ask Mr. Call for a pack of school
paper.  While he is fetching it for me, I hear the bell on the door, which
means that somebody is coming in.

I
hear Eddie say, “What kind of gum you want, honey-bunch?”

“Spearmint,”
Opal says.  “Get two packs.”

I
take the paper from Mr. Call, throw the nickel on the counter, and duck out the
back door of the store before I am spotted.  I run around the building and
hurry up Gospel Road.  I am all the way to Willy’s Road before I remember
that when I took the nickel out of my bookbag, I laid the mail down on the
counter and left it there.  I can only hope that Mr. Call is the one who
finds it.  He will save it for me.  I’m not sure what his wife might
do with it.

At
home I find Jewel sitting on the front porch, altering a dress she found in the
charity bag, and Bea is sitting on the steps shelling pole beans.  Charles
and the little boys are lying around doing nothing.

I
perch on the edge of the porch.  “Where’s Dad?”

“He
went to buy a pistol,” Bea says.

“A
pistol!” I cry.  “Where’s the money coming from?”

“He’s
trading the black heifer for it,” Charles says.

“Molly? 
He’s trading a good milk cow for a gun?”

About
that time Dad comes into view walking up Willy’s Road.  There’s something
about his gait that makes me nervous.  By the time he reaches the porch,
there’s no doubt about it.  He is furious about something.  He comes
up to me and throws a piece of paper in my face.  It’s the letter from
Trula.

“Mrs.
Call said she reckons you forgot this.”

Oh,
Lord, Mrs. Call.  And the letter was open, so I’m sure she couldn’t resist
reading it, and of course Dad read it too.

He
glowers at me.  “So you’ve been meeting her behind my back?”

I
could tell him it’s not just me, but I see no benefit in dragging Samuel and
Jewel into this.  I say nothing.

“That
woman has shamed our family,” he goes on.  “And your defiance is a slap in
the face.”

That
woman?  Still he won’t say Trula’s name, even after she has given birth to
his first two grandchildren?  I remain silent.  Bea, Charles, Jewel
and the little ones are watching with big eyes.

“You
go on now, girl,” Dad says, “and you cut me a good-sized switch.”

“What!”

“I
know you ain’t hard of hearing,” Dad says.  “So git going.”

“Aw,
now, Willy,” Bea objects mildly.  “No need for that.”

“You!”
Dad raises his voice and shakes a long, knobby finger in Bea’s face.  “You
stay out of this.  It’s none of your business.”

He
turns back to me and there is so much anger in his eyes I am shaken. 
Still I summon all my courage and speak.  “Dad, I won’t stand still for
your switching like Trula did.”

“I
ain’t in the mood for your sassin’!” he yells.  “If you don’t go cut me a
switch right now, I’ll…I’ll….”  He pulls the pistol out of his pocket.

There
is a chorus of loud protests.

“No,
Dad!”

“Put
it away!”

“Don’t
point that thing!”

“Willy! 
What are you doing?”

He
seems uncertain for a moment as he looks at the frightened faces around
him.  Quickly he turns the gun in his hand so that he is gripping the
barrel instead of the trigger.  “I’ll..I’ll pistol whip you!” he finishes
his threat.

Jewel
starts to cry, then Clint and Lawrence.  The recollection of Trula’s cruel
switching comes back to me in all its horror.  It’s a memory that haunts
me when I wake up in the wee hours.  Like the death of Roxie, it’s a wound
that never heals.  No, I will not let him assault me in any way, not just
for my sake, but for Jewel and my little brothers.  I will not allow such
a memory to haunt them.

Keeping
my voice steady and strong, I say to Dad, “You are the only one who has shamed
our family, with your meanness and your backward ways.  Trula ran away
because of you.  She couldn’t stand you anymore.  And Roxie…Roxie
could have….she could have lived, if only you...”

“Don’t
you say that!” he interrupts me.  “Don’t you dare say that!”

We
are all silent for a moment listening to the echo of his booming voice.

But
I am not finished.  “I heard you praying that morning, Dad.  I heard
you asking God not to take Roxie.  You asked him to take Trula or any one
of your other girls instead.  Why is it that you can’t love
all
of
your children, Dad?”

Now
he is trembling, and his face is white.

“You
have only one use for your daughters,” I continue.  “We are your slaves –
even Roxie, your favorite.  She was only fourteen, and she was worn
out.  She was worked to death.”

“No!”
he shouts, as he takes a step closer to me.  “Take it back!”

I
retreat to a safe distance from him.  “All you had to do was walk up the
stairs
one
time and take a look at Roxie to see how sick she was!” 
Now I am shouting too.  “But you put
me
in charge –
me
! 
And I was just a little girl!”