Dunaway's Crossing (12 page)

Ahead, lights shone in the Barksdales’ dining room, and Cal’s heart sped with worry.
Maybe Penny still setting the table
, she thought as she jogged to the yard and around to the back door. She took the steps two at a time and pulled the screen door open to knock, but the wind blew the screen door and slammed it against the door jamb. Before California could open it again, Penny pushed it wide. “Why in the world Mr. Ferguson send you out this time a day?”

She stood aside, allowing California into the Barksdales’ warm kitchen, which smelled like cooked onion. Cal shook off the temptation of the fireplace. “He didn’t, Penny. I come to see Mr. Barksdale. He eating dinner yet?”

“Just sit down.” Penny gave a quick nod.

California’s heart sank as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Should she ask Penny to interrupt him?

“What’s wrong with you, Cal? You look like you stepped in ants.”

California’s eyes burned as she tried to hold back tears, but her throat went tight and her chin warbled. Penny wrinkled her brow, took California’s arm and led her to the fire place, pushing down on Cal’s arm so she’d sit in the maple rocker. California couldn’t speak without tears flowing.

“It’s Matilda. She bad sick. I got to talk to Mr. David. I need him to call a doctor for me.”

“That ain’t gone do no good. Dr. Washington ain’t got no phone.”

What did Penny think? That Cal had gone silly?

“I been looking for Dr. Washington two days,” Cal said. “Left messages, but he ain’t come, and nobody know where he at.”

Penny put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “You mean you want Mr. David to call Dr. Arnold?”

California nodded. “I wouldn’t ask, but she real bad off. I’m fraid she gone die.” The tears flowed again, and California pulled the kerchief off her head and blew her nose. Her face burned with embarrassment, but she didn’t know what else to do.

Penny’s face softened. She bit her lip in reluctance, showing her fear of angering Mr. David with an interruption. Thank heavens Miss Lavinia called her in.

Through the door, Miss Lavinia’s voice revealed her slight irritation. “What’s the commotion in there?” Penny’s and Mr. David’s voices were muffled, impossible to  make out. Cal breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t yelling at Penny. A chair scraped against the floor, and more than two footsteps approached the door.

Miss Lavinia glided in wearing her beaded blue dress. She always dressed for dinner, like she was going to a party. Her poofy gray-blonde hair framed her face, like a halo. California hoped she’d be an angel of mercy tonight.

“California, what’s wrong?”

“I need your help, Miss Lavinia.” Cal stood as she spoke. “Or Mr. David’s help. My sister Matilda’s real bad sick. Can you call Dr. Arnold for me? Please?”

Like Penny, Miss Lavinia asked why Cal didn’t call Dr. Washington, and Cal wanted to slap her lights on.
She know better than to think I ain’t tried that
. Stuffing down her exasperation, Cal relayed what she’d just told Penny a few minutes before.

Miss Lavinia’s shoulders drooped a bit as she tilted her head, talking to California the same way she’d talk to a child. “Well, I heard the flu was going around. You saw Bea Dot through that last spring. Just keep her warm and give her plenty of hot tea. She’ll be fine.”

Hot tea my foot
, Cal wanted to say, but she knew better. Miss Lavinia took California’s arm and tried to lead her to the door, but California shook Miss Lavinia’s hand away and stood firm.

“No, you don’t understand. I ain’t talking bout no fever and chills. Tilda can’t hardly breathe. She all gurgly like she got water in her chest, and she starting to turn blue.”

Miss Lavinia’s face contorted like she’d just seen a dead animal on the road. “Blue?”

“How can a black woman turn blue?” Penny asked.

“I can’t explain it, but she blue in the lips and fingers. She can’t breathe, Miss Lavinia. Please call Dr. Arnold.” California leaned forward, her palms together as if in prayer.

Miss Lavinia put her hand on her forehead, and Cal wondered what was so confusing about calling a doctor to treat a sick person.

“If you call Dr. Arnold, he’ll come. He won’t do it for me, but he’ll do it for you.” Inside, Cal prayed her heart out.
Please call the doctor. Please
.

“Why didn’t you ask Ben to call earlier on your behalf?”

Penny put her hands on her hips. “Hmph!”

Was Miss Lavinia sick herself? Mr. Ben didn’t even call the doctor for his own wife.

“He fired me, Miss Lavinia.”

“What? Why did he do that?”

“Cause he Mr. Ben,” Penny said, her chest puffed up like she was ready for a fight.

“When Tilda got sick, I asked him could I stay home and tend her,” Cal explained. “He told me not to come back.”

“My Lord in heaven. That man…” Miss Lavinia shook her head again. She stepped into the hallway to the telephone. With her back to California and Penny, she picked up the phone and spoke into it. “Yes, 32A please. Yes, Dr. Arnold…Yes, I know it’s his home.”

Miss Lavinia eyed California with knotted eyebrows. She bit her lower lip. Then she turned away again. California could tell what she was thinking, that the operator would listen in on the phone call and know she was asking the doctor to see about a black woman.

“Hello, Dr. Arnold. This is Mrs. David Barksdale…No, I’m not sick. David’s fine too. I’m calling for Bea Dot’s girl, Cal…Yes, I know…But Dr. Washington is nowhere to be found, and Cal’s sister is having trouble breathing…”

Miss Lavinia listened for a long time and nodded every few seconds. Sometimes she said, “I see.”

He must be blessing her out
, Cal thought.

Miss Lavinia stiffened her back. “But what will I do if I don’t have Matilda to help me at my Women’s War Guild Monday?”

Bless her heart
. California’s eyes watered at Miss Lavinia’s lie. Tilda had never worked for her, but by asking the question, Miss Lavinia suggested the doctor’s call would be for her as much as for the sick woman. Dr. Arnold might be able to say no to Cal, but he’d have a harder time saying no to Miss Lavinia Barksdale.

“Yes, I’ll tell her.” Miss Lavinia nodded more. “Thank you, Doctor.” She hung up the ear piece and turned toward California, her face showing little promise.

“What he say?” Cal almost stepped up and clutched Miss Lavinia’s arm. Penny stood close by, wadding her apron in her hands.

“He’ll be there first thing in the morning.” Miss Lavinia sighed and stepped away from the phone and back into the kitchen.

California’s heart fell to her feet. She was so shocked she had to force herself to speak. “Tomorrow’s too late.”

Then the tears did come, and Penny took California by the shoulders.

Miss Lavinia touched California’s arm as well. “He knows Matilda needs help. It’s just that he’s already got a list of patients to see tonight, all with influenza. Apparently, it’s more serious than I’d realized. I’m lucky to have caught him at home. He was on his way out again.”

California didn’t feel lucky at all. She blew her nose in her kerchief again.

“He says fluid is building up in her lungs,” Miss Lavinia continued. “You should sit her up and pound on her back. Maybe she’ll bring some of it up.”

California nodded helplessly. How could Matilda cough if she couldn’t breathe?

“He says to keep her room well ventilated,” Miss Lavinia said. “He’ll be there as soon as he can tomorrow.”

California nodded again, feeling like she’d just killed her own sister.

“Penny, please wrap up some leftover dinner for Cal to take home,” Miss Lavinia told her maid.

Penny nodded and shuffled to the stove. Miss Lavinia told California not to worry, that everything would be fine. How did she know that? Her sister wasn’t in bed gasping for breath. Penny returned with a cloth-covered basket and handed it to California, but Cal couldn’t say anything in return.

“Be sure to eat dinner,” Miss Lavinia said. “You’ll need your strength to nurse Matilda until the doctor arrives.”

California eyed the basket like it was a bucket of worms.

“It’s too dark and windy for you to walk home,” Miss Lavinia continued. “Penny, run out to the carriage house and ask Hap to drive Cal home in Mr. Barksdale’s motorcar.”

Penny wrapped her shawl over her head and ran outside. California gave Miss Lavinia a hoarse thank you. Then Miss Lavinia left to finish her supper.

California sat numbly the whole ride home, as if God had abandoned her. When Hap pulled up to Matilda’s house, California got out without saying a word. Not until she was inside did she realize she’d left the dinner basket in the car.

An Oldsmobile chugged past Will’s wagon, churning orange dust over the dry country road. The driver, decked out in goggles and a driving cap, waved a leather-gloved hand as he sped by. Buster rotated his ears, then turned his head slowly, as if taking disinterested notice of a strange, bothersome beast. He continued his slow pace toward the crossing.

“He’s going nowhere fast, isn’t he, Buster?” Will shook his head and curled his lip. People looked silly in their special driving clothes, especially the goggles. If they didn’t go so fast, they’d have no need for the thick, bug-eyed glasses. The Oldsmobile had to have been speeding at least twenty-five miles an hour. Those kinds of daredevils were the same ones Will saw stuck in muddy ditches, their rubber tires spinning in the air, the drivers scratching their heads in confusion. Buster had helped pull two or three motorcars out of ditches already, and some folks in town had suggested Will start a business just for that purpose. But he couldn’t face a job like that. Not after what happened at Belleau Wood.

He rubbed bleary eyes, stretching and yawning in his seat. The nightmare had returned last night, for the first time since Bea Dot and Netta had come to stay. He awoke in the darkness in a tangle of blankets and couldn’t shake the image of the distraught, pale woman with curly red hair, holding up her arms in defense as Will steered the ambulance straight toward her.

He shook his head fiercely.
Stop it, Dunaway
. He rubbed one eye, then the other, with the back of his hand. No need to relive the terror.

At the sound of an engine behind him, Will pulled the reins to the right, guiding Buster to the edge of the road to let the driver pass. To Will’s surprise, the engine slowed, and a dusty Ford truck pulled alongside the wagon. Harley, the undertaker’s assistant, waved for Will to stop.

“What are you doing out here, Harley?”

“I heard you were back in town today.” Harley squinted at Will in the midday sun. “I tried to catch you at Richardson’s store, but I was too late.”

Will leaned forward, elbows on knees, letting Buster’s reins go slack. “I need to get back to the crossing as soon as I can,” he replied. “Some folks waiting for supplies.”

“Weren’t you just in town a couple of days ago?”

“Yep.” Will nodded. “Already running low on some goods. Richardson and I are arranging some standing orders. Maybe he can make some deliveries, too, so I won’t have to go back and forth so much.” Will frowned slightly. “Did you drive all the way out here to ask about that?”

A breeze blew up, and Will turned his jacket collar up around his neck. Buster sniffed the ground and nibbled on a few blades of grass.

Harley shook his head, turning in his seat to face Will better. He fiddled with the gear shift as he spoke. “Pritchett’s overwhelmed, what with this flu and all. His suppliers are too. We’ve got a list of clients who need to schedule funerals, but we don’t have coffins for them.”

The truck shuddered as its engine idled. Will waited a second for Harley to continue. Then his eyes widened as he caught Harley’s point. He shivered. Did the temperature just drop? “You want me to build coffins?”

“Could you?” Harley almost pleaded with him. “You were the first person we thought of since…well…you don’t have any family in town. Most everybody else has a sick one to tend to.”

The reference to no family simultaneously tugged at Will and buoyed him. He stiffened his back as another breeze brushed by. Usually his friends and neighbors felt sorry for him—annoyingly sorry—because his father was dead and his mother had moved away. For the first time, someone saw his solitude as a benefit instead of a burden—if one could call the ability to build coffins an advantage.

“Well, I’ve got Miss Netta and her cousin out at the crossing,” he said, wondering if he could look after the women and help Pritchett at the same time. He turned the reins over in his hands, and when Harley said nothing, Will continued. “Maybe I can help you out.” How could he refuse?

“Thank you.” Harley smiled. “I’ll tell Pritchett you’ll be along this afternoon.”

“Make it tomorrow,” Will replied. “I still have to unload these goods and take care of some other business.”

Will watched Harley turn the truck around, just to make sure he didn’t back it into the ditch. Then he watched the red dust cloud up behind the truck as it drove away.