Katie's Dream (22 page)

Juli would be wondering about Franky, I knew. And she wouldn't be the only one. So when the time came to leave, I made my way to the door. George wanted to go too, but I told him he ought to stay. Franky needed him more than the kids at home did right now.

“Most of 'em is fine, sure,” he said. “But Emmie Grace'll be fit to be tied without Lizbeth there. An' it ain't just that. There's the milkin' to do—”

“Your boys are well capable. But I'll check on them. They'll be wanting to know about Franky, anyway.”

I knew Lizbeth was glad to stay. And glad her father was staying too.

I walked outside in the evening sun, expecting to start looking for a stranger headed to Dearing. But Edward was still there, in the same place we'd left him, only he was sitting on the front of his car with a bottle of something and a cigarette. He stood up when he saw me coming.

“I thought you'd left,” I told him.

“You didn't need me in there. But I thought I better stay long enough to see how he's doing.”

It was a surprise, a pleasant one, to find that maybe he cared. “The one leg's broke pretty badly, but he should be all right. He'll be here a while. On bed rest a while.”

He threw his cigarette down in the street. “Was hoping you'd be bringing him right back out.”

“Things don't always work the way we hope.”

“You can say that again, little brother.”

For a moment he looked younger, softer, like the boy who'd shared pickle loaf with me once in the middle of the woods on the edge of Albany.

“What do you think we'd have been like if Mother wasn't a drinker?” he suddenly asked.

“I don't know, Edward. Seems like our choices are our own, regardless of Mother.”

“Yeah. I might expect you to say something like that.”

“What are you drinking now?” I asked him, knowing I was risking his anger.

But he didn't seem upset. “It ain't alcohol, if that's what you mean. I ain't stupid enough to pull out any of that out here in the open. It's Pepsi-Cola. You ever have one?”

“No.”

“It ain't bad.” He took a long swig.

“I need a ride,” I told him. “I can't pay you, but if it's not too much bother, could you take me home? They'll be wanting to hear about Franky.”

Edward was looking down at his boots. “Just you? The rest are staying?”

“Franky can't go. And they'll let immediate family stay with him. That's all. I'll have to tell our pastor and friends about this so they can check in on them.”

He lifted his eyes and gave me an uncomfortable look.

“I know it was an accident,” I told him. “You weren't watching, but I know you didn't mean to.”

“Well,” he said with a sigh. “Good of you to say it. Thought maybe you'd think I did it for spite. The little hammer boy was trying to run me off yesterday. Brave little cuss.”

For a moment his words rankled me, as I thought about him laying his hand on Juli and Franky having to rush to her defense. Why had he come back again today? He'd never even bothered to explain.
Lord,
I prayed just to calm myself,
maybe he's trying to be different. Maybe. At least he's not being so hateful right now.

“I didn't hurt him on purpose, Sammy,” he said. “If there was anybody out there I'd want to hit, it'd be you.”

There was no great malice in his eyes. No laughter.

I wasn't sure the reason for such a confession, or how to respond to it. “Well,” I finally said, “I guess I'll walk downtown. There's bound to be somebody over there heading back to Dearing.”

“Get in the car, you fool,” he told me. “I'll take your sorry hide home. And you don't have to pay me a cent.”

I got in. But I knew we were in for a face-off. I knew that whatever was eating at him was bound to come out when we were alone.

It took a while—most of the ride we sat in stony silence. But as we passed close to Delafield, he finally started talking.

“Sammy, your wife knows what you did,” he said with a smirk. “She's just being such a sweet little Christian that she doesn't want to look at it.”

I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want to talk. But here it was. “She knows everything I do. I tell her everything.”

“Sure. Maybe now. But not before, I'd bet. And the poor thing's trying to tell herself how wonderful you are—”

“Will you shut up?”

“This is my car, little brother! I don't shut up unless I feel like it. What do you think, huh, about her callin' you a good provider?”

I looked over the rolling fields beyond the road. Edward was driving slow now. Maybe he liked that I was stuck having to listen.

“Don't feel like talking, huh? That's all right. I'll just tell you what I think.” He glanced my way, and I could feel my stomach tighten. “That little old lady was the good provider. You got yourself a real farm. All that land. I never stole anything that big in all my life! Never could talk as smooth as you, I guess.”

He was egging me on, I knew he was, trying to get me upset. But why? I didn't plan on saying much of anything in response. What would be the use? He'd only believe what he wanted to. And God knew I hadn't stolen a single thing from Emma Graham. God knew how hard it had been for me to receive the gift when she offered it. I hadn't even been able to, not completely. Not until she died.

“You're really something, that's all,” he continued. “Never seen a better liar. Not in all my life.”

“I haven't lied, Edward.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

“Your turn's up ahead.”

He glanced at me and laughed. “Too much a coward to belt me, aren't you, Sammy? You need the ride and you're not knowing if I might pound you into the ground if you try anything.”

“What are you talking about?”

He turned the corner, suddenly looking more like my father than I ever remembered. Something about the set of his jaw. “I s'pose you're mad about yesterday,” he said. “Hard telling what your wife and that little boy told you. Guess I'm some awful villain.”

I hadn't expected him to want to talk about it, or to push me for a reaction. But he was right. I
was
mad. “You could try telling your side.”

“Why bother?” His words came out hard. “You wouldn't listen. Wouldn't matter what I said.”

“Yes, it would. At least Julia told me you didn't hurt her.”

“What do you think? Do you think I would?”

“I haven't seen you in a long time. We haven't talked. I don't know what's motivating you right now.”

“That's pretty! Oh, Sammy, that's rich! You know good and well I came here telling the truth, don't you? You know all about it.”

“No. I don't.”

He stole one glance at me and stopped the car so suddenly that I was thrown forward and had to catch myself against the dash. “What are you doing?”

“Just you and me,” he said real slow. “I figured we could quit the games. There's nobody else to hear. It's not going to hurt you to tell me the truth.”

“I have.”

“Hogwash! There's no way Trudy was lying. How could she tell me your name?”

“I don't know, Edward.” I felt like getting out of the car and walking away, but I had to at least answer the charge and let him know I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. “It does look like you're telling the truth, so far as you know it. But so am I.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No,” I sighed. “I'm not sure if anybody would.”

He looked at me pretty straight. “Then why bother? Admit it, Sammy. Would it hurt you that much?”

“It didn't happen. That's all I can say. Except that I wish you'd hear me. I don't know her at all, and now I have to figure something out for that little girl. You could help, if the woman said anything else about Katie's father or any of their relatives.”

I saw the fire in his eyes. So much like our father's. Quick and destructive. Except that with Edward, the anger was a bit easier for me to understand.

“You want to know what she said? That's easy! She said you were thin, dark haired, almost as tall as me. Pretty smooth to talk to and not bad looking. But ugly as homemade sin when you found out she was pregnant. You roughed her up over it, then didn't come around no more till a couple of times after the kid was born, just to make trouble. And I was mad, Samuel, 'cause I used to think you were different than that! I guess I was fooled as much as everybody else.”

I took a deep breath. I couldn't answer it all. I could only hope for a way to show that it wasn't me. “Did she say what town?”

“Harrisburg, you idiot! You called me a jackal, but at least I know a good thing when I see it. I'd have kept Trudy if I could have! But she wouldn't trust no other Wortham 'cause of you. And you already had a good woman! Get out of my car!”

“What?”

“Get out!”

I got out, thinking he would roar off down the road without me. And maybe it would be for the better. There was no way to convince him, and he was too hot. I'd seen it before. He was too mad at me to stay in control. Just like Dad.

But he didn't drive off. He jumped out of the car without even opening the door on his side. He walked around the front to face me. “You're a fool, Sammy! You don't deserve either one of 'em! Do you beat Julia the way you did Trudy?”

I backed up a step, seeing his doubled fists and cold, hard eyes. I wasn't sure how to answer him, but I opened my mouth and had plenty to say. “No. I don't beat her. I never have. And I've never cheated. Maybe you think I'm like our father, or you wish you could prove me to be. But it's not true. I swore when I was a kid that I'd never be like him. Or like you, either.”

“What was so bad about me?”

“The fighting. The stealing. Only looking out for yourself.”

Without warning, he hit me hard in the face, sending me reeling. I had to struggle to catch my balance against his car.

“Only looking out for myself!” he raged. “I was stealing for you, you lying little weasel! You never cared the trouble I got in, but I was stealing for you!”

I didn't believe it. And suddenly I knew the fire was burning in me too. “Wilford Brink's Model A, Edward? Was that for me? Liquor and tobacco from the store on the corner? Money, jewelry, who knows what else from how many houses, Edward? Ten? Twenty?”

He came at me swinging again, and I tried to block him this time. But I was never the fighter he was. He hit me with his left, in the gut, and I doubled over.

“I wasn't talking about those times,” he insisted.

He stood over me, and I found myself looking at his right arm, in the place where Father's bird tattoo had been. There was no such mark on Edward.
Lord, help us,
I prayed.
Us. Yes. Lord, help Edward.

“I meant before,” he snapped at me. “When you were little. I used to get bread all the time. Those little bottles of milk sometimes too. I'd hide 'em in my shirt and sneak 'em home. Don't you remember? Did you think the groceries just showed up for you like some kind of magic? Or maybe Mother went and bought them with what was left after she paid for her booze? But she was drunk, wasn't she? Stretched out on her bed, if she got that far.”

I tried to breathe deep but could scarcely manage it. He was strong. He'd socked me good.

“Ain't got nothing else to say?” he demanded. “You want to hate me so much you can't tell me thank you, can you? How do you think I got started? Everybody knew I was stealing! Everybody knew I was no good! By the time I got big enough, there wasn't nobody gonna hire me! What else could I do? I wasn't good at nothing but stealing, anyway.” He shook his head. “But it started with food, Sammy. Your food. 'Cause you were a pathetic little whelp, and I couldn't stand to see you cry.”

I looked up at him. I figured, as mad as he was, he'd hit me again, no matter what I said. I didn't care. I was used to him lying like a dog. But I knew he wasn't lying about this.

“Thank you,” I managed to tell him.

My words didn't change the anger in his eyes. “Now you say it! Now you say it, after I come all this way and beat it out of you. You're just trying to get me off your back!”

I swallowed hard, but it did nothing to relieve the awful taste in my mouth. “I'm sorry, Edward. I guess there were things I didn't see—”

“You didn't want to see!

“Maybe not. And I'm sorry.”

I tried to straighten myself, but it hurt. Suddenly I thought of him hitting Katie. Lord, have mercy. Did he even know how strong he was?

“You're pathetic,” he said. “Do you know that?”

I took a deep breath. “What about the pickle loaf, Edward?”

“What?”

“Did you steal pickle loaf once?”

“Yeah, you runt. And I gave it to you.”

“Most of it,” I acknowledged. “I think you had a little.”

He shook his head. “You were sitting in your stupid little campsite, playing you were somebody else. Some stupid little Injun named Gray Bear.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Edward.”

He just stared. Then he laughed. “You're really thanking me?”

“Yeah. I am. Thank you.”

“You already said that.”

“Some things bear repeating.” I pushed myself away from the car and started walking in the direction of the farm.

“Sammy,” he called after me.

“What?”

“Where're you going?”

“Home.”

“You really didn't remember?”

“No. But I'm glad you told me.” I kept walking, aching pretty fiercely.

He followed.

“I don't blame you for the way you went,” I said, knowing he was close enough to hear. “You probably didn't know how to do anything else. I'm sorry I didn't understand it.”