Face the Winter Naked (11 page)

Not
a day went by that she didn't argue with herself: take Daniel back or kick his deserting
ass out the door? It was useless, because deep in her heart, she knew it was
over between them.

Silent
tears fell, and a short time later, she heard the patter of bare feet on the
linoleum. The side of the bed heaved, the springs creaked as a small sweaty
body climbed onto the bed and snuggled next to her.

"Bobby?
What's the matter, honey?"

"'fraid.
Sleep Mama."

She
gathered her son in her arms. Of course he was afraid, waking in the dark room
he shared with his brother and sister, finding himself alone. "It's okay, honey,
Mama's here."

Sometimes
mothers are afraid, too. These days, everyone's afraid.

Chapter 7

Daniel
stood across the road watching the two-story white house. It wasn't long before
a man in a dark suit came outside and cranked a 1931 Ford Roadster, got the
engine running and climbed inside. He tipped his cap as the car backed down the
long driveway and pulled into the street. But the driver ignored him, stepped
on the gas and left him in a trail of exhaust and grit. He removed his glasses
and wiped his eyes. Picked up his sack, hitched the banjo up on his shoulder
and started across a dry lawn. Giant spirea and a few overgrown lilac bushes
framed the front porch. On the front railing sat a concrete urn with a few
bright but scraggly moss rose blossoms. Everywhere he went, he was reminded of
home. He could almost smell lingering traces of blossoms long dead as he
climbed the steps for the second time since midnight.

A
wooden swing hung by two chains from one end of the porch ceiling. Last night
it had looked inviting. But when he'd sat in it, the chains had protested so
much he'd gotten out again for fear of waking the owners.

Now
the front door was open, the heat of the day rushing into the house through the
screen. A young boy ran past on the other side of the door. He stopped and
stared as Daniel dropped the gunnysack on the porch and carefully placed the
banjo beside it.

The
youngster, about five years old, turned and ran yelling through the house.

"Mama,
Mama, there's an old tramp on the front porch!"

A
dark heavyset woman in a print dress hurried through an arch beyond the front
room. She scowled as she came to the door, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Shush,
Edward, you mama got a headache."

The
child pointed to Daniel. "But Daddy said no more bums, Miss Anna. No more
damn beggars."

Daniel
flinched.
If any son of mine cussed, he'd get a good shellacking behind the
woodshed and his mouth washed out with laundry soap.

But
he put the thought behind him and touched the brim of his cap.

"Howdy,
ma'am. I wonder if you—"

The
maid thrust the boy behind her skirt and sized up the stranger through the
screen. She glanced behind him at the gunnysack, which lay on the porch like a
tired old hound.

"We
don't give handouts. Mr. Cornwallis, he say no more beggars, tramps, thieves,
or preachers."

Daniel,
not to be turned away before he'd stated his purpose, nodded politely.

"That's
very wise, ma'am. They'll eat you out of house and home if you let 'em."

"I'm
glad you understand," the maid replied as Edward peeked out from behind.
"Now you better—"

"Yes,
yes, of course," Daniel said. "I better introduce myself. I ain't no
ordinary tramp or bum, ma'am." He indicated the tools in their various
places in his overalls. "As a matter of fact, I'm just a simple tradesman.
A cabinetmaker looking for work."

She
shook her head. "We got cabinets."

"Of
course you do. But I ain't selling cabinets. I'm not just a carpenter, but an
all-purpose handyman. You got anything broke? I'll fix it for a drop of milk, a
sandwich, or a cold spud."

"No."
She backed away from the door. "Nothing broken here."

"Much
obliged, then. Sorry I bothered you."

As
he turned to go, he kicked the screen door and the top hinge fell out.

"Look
what you did!" cried the woman.

Daniel
removed his cap.

"I'm
sorry, ma'am." He shook his head. "You better have the mister look at
it when he gets home."

He
stuck his cap back on, picked up the gunnysack and banjo, and started down the
steps. Smiling to himself, he placed a foot exactly so on a certain board, just
enough to tip it.

"This
here step needs fixin', before someone breaks his neck."

"Wait!"
Anna called as he started down the walk.

He
turned around.

"You
could fix it," she said.

"Reckon
I could. But you already said you don't need nothing fixed."

Anna
stepped onto the porch to inspect the damage, then went back inside. "I'll
make you a bite to eat while you fix the door and step."

She
disappeared, going back toward the kitchen as Edward ran after her.

"But
Miss Anna, Daddy said no more damn tramps."

"Hush
up, child. You wake you po' mama. She spank you little britches for talking
nasty."

"But
Miss Anna, he—"

"Shhh!
I gotta tell you again, you get the switch."

Daniel
set down his gunnysack. He laid the banjo against it and reached in his bib
pocket. He grinned as he pulled out the nails and screws he'd removed from the
step and screen door earlier.

When
Edward came outside to watch, Daniel said, "You can help me if you want,
sonny." He laid a nail in the boy's hand. "You just hold that there
nail till I want it again. Don't dare let go of it."

Edward
clutched the nail in his fist and climbed up in the swing. "Yes, sir, I
won't lose it."

Daniel
went to work, humming to the squeak of the noisy swing as he reached for his
hammer and screwdriver. He held the door in place and positioned a screw in one
of the hinge holes.

"What's
in your sack?" Edward asked.

Daniel
glanced at the boy.

"Dead
chickens."

Edward
eyed the gunnysack. "What are they doing in there?"

Daniel
screwed the screw in the wood and got another from his pocket, held it between
his lips while he adjusted the hinge some more. He removed the screw from his
mouth to speak.

"They're
waiting for me to pull their feathers off so I can make myself a nice
pillow."

"They
are?"

"Yep.
You holding that nail nice and tight? Don't lose it."

Edward
opened his fist, showing Daniel the nail.

"Good
boy."

He
finished repairing the screen door, then set to work on the step. When he was
done, he turned to Edward.

"You
can gimmie the nail now, Eddy." The boy got out of the swing and dropped
the nail in Daniel's open palm. "And go tell your housekeeper she can
bring my food now."

Edward
ran into the house and through the archway beyond, and in a minute, the woman
came to the door.

"It's
too hot here on the porch. You can eat on the back steps. It's cooler under the
oak."

She
went back through the archway as Daniel retrieved his sack and banjo and went
behind the house to sit on the top step. A blooming columbine grew next to the
steps, again reminding him of home, as did a small garden off to one side.
Nearby stood a white hen house enclosed in chicken wire. A couple of hens pecked
in the dirt.

Anna
came outside from a screened-in porch and handed him a plate with a sliced
tomato, a pickle, a spoonful of potato salad, a roast beef sandwich, and a
dollop of cottage cheese.

"Thank
you," Daniel said. "Looks fit for a king."

The
woman watched him eat. "You mighty thin. When was the last time you
ate?"

He
swallowed before replying. "Can't recall. Maybe last night or two days
ago. Maybe a month ago."

"My
stars!"

Daniel
took a bite of sandwich, then picked up the fork and stabbed at a chunk of
potato dripping yellow with mustard and mayonnaise. He opened his mouth,
shoveled it in and chewed, savoring the sweet pickle flavor.

"After
a while, you forget what time and what day it is. You just follow the dusty
roads, wearing out your shoes, not thinking about food till you almost pass
out."

"They's
lot of folks out of work," Anna said. "I'm luckier than some. Mr. and
Miz Cornwallis give me a home. Got a little room over the kitchen. Miz
Cornwallis is upstairs resting right now. Feeling po'ly she is, and it wouldn't
surprise me she's in the family way."

Daniel
glanced sideways at her. "That right?"

"Mr.
Cornwallis is a banker." She paused a minute. "I shouldn't tell a
stranger, should I?"

Anna's
face and underarms were damp with sweat. Daniel thought her heavy bosom was
likely miserable with prickly heat. LaDaisy always complained about the rash,
but a sprinkle of cornstarch brought relief. He wondered if the maid knew about
the cornstarch; if she didn't, it wasn't a stranger's business to tell her. He
was a handyman, not a peddler of home remedies.

She
fanned herself with the tail of her apron and sat on the step watching him eat.

"Whew,
hot, ain't it?"

"Fixin'
to storm."

"Where
you go when it storms?"

"Find
me a barn or a shed to stand in till it passes."

"We
don't get many bums around here," Anna said. "The missus, she told me
not to coddle 'em or they'll keep coming back. But sometimes I don't listen to
her."

"Well,
I ain't no bum."

"Tramp
or hobo, then, they's all the same.

"Nope.
Not neither one." Daniel ate some tomato, then shined his plate with a
piece of bread from the sandwich. "I'm an honorable man looking for work
to care for my family."

"Excuse
me." Anna rose and went inside, returning with a tall glass of lemonade.

"Here."
She watched him drink almost half a glass before coming up for air. "You
got children? How many? You divorced?"

Daniel
handed her the empty plate and wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve.

"Nope.
Got the best wife a man could want and three little ones."

Young
Edward skipped around the corner of the house and tackled an old tire swinging
from the oak.

"How
they making out with you gone?" asked the woman.

Daniel
shrugged. "I ain't there to find out, but better than I am, I hope."

"Why'd
you leave?"

Daniel
considered the question. "I reckon that's personal, ma'am." He rose
and stretched. "Thank ye for the dinner. It'll tide me over till I get to
the next weed patch."

"
Weeds?
You eat weeds?"

"Yup.
Dandelions and other greens."

"Be
careful what you eat," she said. "You might get poisoned."

"Nah.
I only eat what the animals eat. Take cows. Cows won't eat something that'll
hurt them."

"You
should go back to the city, find some work there."

Daniel
shouldered the banjo and grabbed his gunnysack.

"Been
to the city already. There's no work. None."

"But—"

"Why
did you feed me?" he asked. "The boy said his daddy don't like bums—which
I ain't, of course. But why did you feed me?"

"You
fixed the screen door and step. Besides, my mama always say not to turn no
tramp away. Don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Cause
I asked."

"So
you did." She sat thinking. "She say a tramp could be Jesus in
disguise."

"Is
that right?"

"The
Bible say when the Lord returns, he'll come like a thief in the night and we
won't recanize him. Suppose I turn away a beggar and it's really Jesus?"

Daniel
smiled. "I never thought of it that way. It's a nice compliment, but I'm
pretty sure I ain't Jesus." He started down the steps and she called him
back.

"Wait."
Anna stepped back inside and reappeared in a minute. "Here. Take this for
you work." She held out a few coins.

"It's
mighty nice of you," he said. "But you already paid me with food. I
can't take your hard-earned money." He eyed the money, almost licking his
chops with hunger for it.

"Go
ahead. Take it back to your family."

"Well."
He held out his hand and she dropped the coins in. "God bless you, miss.
I'd best be going now."

"If
you got a lick of sense, you'll go home. No decent man leaves his family and
roams all over creation."

She
stood on the top step as he reached the ground and turned.

"Yes,
yes, I will go home."
When I get enough money.

After
she went back inside, Edward ran up to him.

"Will
you come back to see us again?"

"Well,
now, I don't know." Daniel's bowels rumbled. "Say, can you show me
where the privy is?"

Edward
squinted up at him. "We got one in the house, but tramps can't go in
there." He pointed down a brick path. "Over there. It's for the
outdoor workers that cut the grass and weed the vegables."

"You
don't mind if I use it—?"

He didn't
wait for an answer, but hurried down the path and disappeared inside the
outhouse—a two-holer, one for the mister, one for the missus. A brand new
privy, from the looks of it, freshly dug.