Once Upon a Summer (21 page)
When Friday finally came she spent the whole day in the kitchen fussin’ over fried chicken, hot biscuits, and apple pie. The smells that hung in that kitchen were about enough to drive a growin’ boy crazy. I could hardly wait for the supper hour to arrive. I knew better than to hang around underfoot, so I waited on the porch with Pixie until I was called for.
“Josh, come and get ready for supper.”
I walked in, ready to do my usual wash-and-slick-down-the-hair job, but Lou stopped me.
“I want you to wash thoroughly, Josh, and then change to your Sunday clothes.”
My mouth musta dropped open. Sunday clothes on a Friday night? I had never heard of anything so ridiculous. One look at Auntie Lou and I could see that she really meant it, so I didn’t even bother to protest—outwardly. Inside I was fightin’ it a bit. Silliest notion I’d ever heard.
The other men came in and somehow Lou got the same order across to them. We all went to comply—like so many dumb sheep.
I came down feelin’ rather embarrassed. I’d have died if Avery or Willie had suddenly walked in. Lou rushed past me on the stairs, hurryin’ to do some changin’ of her own.
I walked around the kitchen sniffin’ and jest checkin’ to see if there might be a stray bit of something that I could sample. Didn’t seem to be.
The table caught my eye. It was covered with a pure white cloth, and the dishes that were placed on it, I’d never seen before. It was a little late for decent flowers, so a bowl of apples sat in the center of the table.
I was reachin’ for a polished apple when Gramps came out of his bedroom.
“I wouldn’t do that, Josh,” he whispered. “It would spoil your Auntie Lou’s fine arrangement.”
He chuckled jest slightly and gave me a wink, “Took her almost an hour to get that just so.”
Seemed really silly to me to polish and fuss like that over something that tasted just as good without all that trouble.
We men gathered one by one. I think that each one of us felt a little foolish; we stood around self-conscious, hardly darin’ to breathe lest we commit somethin’ unpardonable. We were all relieved to hear Auntie Lou’s step on the stairs.
She came down wearin’ one of my favorite dresses. It was her special blue one and made her eyes look even bigger and bluer. She had left her hair loose and flowin’ around her face and shoulders. A small blue bow secured a handful of it at the back of her head. She looked great. She also looked nervous.
She checked the meal on the stove, she checked the table, she checked us men, then she checked the clock. Five to six— and then we heard a horse clompin’ down the lane. Uncle Charlie got up silently to go meet the caller and care for the horse. Grandpa cleared his throat and rearranged chairs that didn’t need re–arrangin’. I jest stood there wishin’ that I could be cuddlin’ Pixie, which I couldn’t ’cause I’d get my hands dirty. Gramps spoke softly to the flustered Lou.
“Everything looks lovely, little Lou.” I knew that this was to try to reassure her.
I didn’t mean to help the situation any. I jest blurted out what I felt. “I’m starvin’.”
Somehow those two words seemed to break the spell. Everyone laughed, even Auntie Lou, and though she still hurried around with her last-minute preparations, she seemed more her old self.
Uncle Charlie brought in the preacher, who washed his hands after his ride. Uncle Charlie followed suit and then we were finally able to sit down at the table. The preacher was asked to pray; and my mouth wouldn’t let me concentrate on what he was sayin’; it was waterin’ so.
It didn’t seem like the grown-ups were in nearly the hurry to get started that I was. They exchanged comments and fiddled around until I felt like suggestin’ that it would be quite fittin’ for someone to start the chicken.
There were squares of white cloth beside each plate, and I was hard put to know where to get rid of the thing so that I could properly get at my fork. The others took theirs and laid them on their laps, so I got mine out of the way by doin’ that, too.
Finally the food started coming around. It was worth waitin’ for, I’ll tell you that. Don’t suppose anybody enjoyed it anymore than me.
The preacher ate heartily, but I got the funny feelin’ that he might not even be aware of what he was eatin’. Every time I looked at him he was stealin’ little looks at Auntie Lou. He managed to carry on an intelligent conversation with the men-folk, includin’ Lou frequently, but I wondered jest how much of his mind was really on what he was sayin’.
It was a slow, leisurely meal, filled with pleasant talk and laughter. When everyone was so full that there was no possibility of holdin’ another bite of pie or sip of coffee, Grandpa told me to get his Bible. The story was halfways interesting this time—about some Gideon who sent a whole army runnin’ with their tails between their legs, and he only had 300 men to do it with.
Auntie Lou set right to work on the dishes. Uncle Charlie got up slowly and picked up a towel. That preacher got a look in his eye that seemed to say that he would have gladly taken Uncle Charlie’s place if he had thought that it would have been proper. Instead, he accepted Grandpa’s challenge to a game of checkers.
The checker game and the dishes were finished about the same time. Auntie Lou removed her apron, gave Uncle Charlie his customary peck on the cheek, and they joined us. The evenin’ went pleasantly enough.
It was nearin’ my bedtime when Auntie Lou put the coffeepot on again. She had some cookies to go with the coffee.
I watched the clock hands move slowly around. It was my
bedtime all right; but when Auntie Lou summoned everyone to the table, I noticed that she had a place set for me with a glass of milk; Grandpa jest moved me on over to the table with a nod of his head.
After we had enjoyed the refreshments and the conversation, the preacher said that he really had to be going. Uncle Charlie offered to get his horse, but he said not to bother—he knew where his Big Jim was. He thanked Grandpa for the fine evenin’, spoke to Uncle Charlie, Gramps, and I in turn (even tickled Pixie’s ear and bid her a good-night), then turned to Auntie Lou.
He took her hand and thanked her for the invitation, said that she was a most gracious hostess and a wonderful cook. Auntie Lou didn’t say much—out loud. Somehow I got the impression that the two of them said a lot more to one another than what was spoken. I couldn’t see Lou’s face, but I did see the preacher’s, and his eyes were sayin’ far more than his lips.
He released Auntie Lou’s hand and left. I waited for her to turn around. It took her a few minutes, but when she did her eyes were still shiny and her cheeks slightly flushed. She had a look on her face that I’d never seen there before as she busied herself clearin’ away the lunch dishes.
I saw Grandpa and Uncle Charlie exchange worried frowns.
“Leave my cup, Louie,” said Grandpa. He hardly ever called her Louie. “I think I’ll have another cup of coffee.”
“Mine too,” said Uncle Charlie.
“Me, I’m off to bed.” Gramps covered a yawn. “All your good cooking makes me as sleepy as a well-fed cat. Great meal, little Lou.”
He kissed her on the cheek and moved toward his
bedroom.
I stirred. Should have known better, but my arm was gettin’ stiff from holding Pixie. As soon as I moved, Grandpa caught it.
“Bedtime, Boy.”
I nodded and got up; carryin’ Pixie with me I went up to bed.
It wasn’t long until I heard Auntie Lou pass my door. She was hummin’ softly. Normally I loved to hear her happy, but something about this bothered me. I tried to find a comfortable way to lay, but nothing felt right. Pixie finally gave up on me and crawled away to the foot of the bed where she could rest in peace.
It was then that I heard the voices from the kitchen. Worried voices—I could tell by the sound. I crept out of bed and down the stairs as far as I dared, avoidin’ the squeaky third step. I sat down against the wall and listened.
“—see it as well as I do,” Grandpa was sayin’.
There was the noise of Uncle Charlie sucking in air before he took a gulp of his scaldin’ coffee, then his chair landed on all four legs.
“ ’Course I see it.”
“I’ve never seen Lou take to a man like thet afore.”
“We knew it was bound to happen.”
“Sure we knew it would happen; thet’s why we been tryin’ so hard to steer her in the right direction.”
“Too late for any steerin’ from us now.”
“Not too late!” Grandpa sounded about ready to pound the table for emphasis. “It
can’t
be too late,” he went on a bit quieter. “This fella’s jest a kid, even if he is a preacher, an’ he has nothin’—nothin’. Did ya see his suit?”
“I see’d.”
“All pressed an’ clean, sure, but so thin ya could walk through it—the best he’s got, too.”
“Ya don’t judge a man by his clothes—even I know thet.”
“Thet ain’t the point! Point is, he can’t
afford
a better suit. My guess is he don’t have enough change in his pocket at any one time to make a jingle. And iffen ya start with nothin’, you sure ain’t gonna add much to it on a preacher’s salary. The man doesn’t even have him a rig to drive—jest a saddle-horse. You wanna see Lou dressed in worn-out clothes, a hang-in’ on, a-straddle a horse?”
“Now hold on,” said Uncle Charlie, and the chair legs hit the floor again. “How’d my
wants
get into this? You know how I feel ’bout Lou. You know what I’d like to see her have. I jest don’t see how you can put a stop to this here thing that’s a-brewin’, that’s all.”
“I’ll have a talk with her.”
“A talk?”
“Yeah, I’ll have a talk.”
Uncle Charlie drew in air again and swallowed some coffee.
The chair protested as he tilted back on two legs again.
“Jest like that, a talk, and the girl will plumb ferget thet she ever saw the fella.”
Grandpa paused. “No,” he finally answered, “no, it won’t be quite that simple; but Lou’s a good, sensible girl. She’ll respect my wishes. Iffen I ask her not to—not to—“ he cleared his throat—“not to return the compliment of his favor, she’ll abide by it.”
“Shore she will. It may nigh break her heart, but she will.”
Grandpa got up and moved to the coffeepot on the stove.
A third cup? He really was upset.
“Aw c’mon, Charlie. Lou isn’t thet far gone. Sure she seems to fancy the young preacher; an’ truth is he appears a right fine boy, but Lou has never been one to chase after fellas and—”
“That’s jest the point!”
“Ya don’t believe in this business of love at first sight, do ya?”
“ ’Course not. But iffen I don’t miss my guess, there’s gonna be some more sightin’ bein’ done; and she’s a gonna look again and again, and then . . . Lou’s never encouraged anyone before, but thet look in her eyes tonight—iffen thet weren’t
encouragement,
then I’ve never seen it.”
There was a pause.
“And ya think she’d hurt?” Grandpa said.
“Sure she’d hurt!”
“Then what do we do?”
The room was silent for an uncomfortable long spell.
“We weigh it. Is the hurt too much to ask her to pay fer her own good?”
Grandpa sloshed some more coffee into both empty cups.
“Maybe not,” he mused, “maybe not.”
“Lou might reckon thet love was more important than fancy things,” cautioned Uncle Charlie.
“It’s hard to pay the grocer with love,” growled Grandpa.
“Yeah!” Uncle Charlie heaved a sigh. “But the funny thing is, love has a habit of makin’ do even when the pickin’s are short.”
“Well I don’t want thet for Lou! ‘Makin’ do’ ain’t enough fer a girl like her.”
“Yeah!”
“I’ll talk to her.”
Uncle Charlie’s chair came down on all four legs again, and I knew that they considered the matter closed. I hugged close to the wall and headed back for my bed.
I had heard all Grandpa’s arguments to Uncle Charlie. Not once had he mentioned the information passed on to him by Deacon Brown. I knew that Grandpa truly did want to be fair to the parson, but I also knew that it was nigh impossible for him to completely forget what he had heard. He loved Lou and he didn’t want to take any chances.
I wanted to keep Lou, too. I hoped that Grandpa’s talk would work. At the same time, I felt afraid. Somehow it looked like Auntie Lou would be hurt. I didn’t want that. More than anything in the world I wanted her happy.
Suddenly I wished that I was on speakin’ terms with God so that I could pour the whole, miserable mess out to Him. I almost envied Willie Corbin. I turned my thoughts around with a firm hand. God probably wouldn’t care anyway. He had never cared about my problems before. I pulled the sleepin’ Pixie into my arms, buried my face against her and cried myself to sleep.
Of course I could, even now, call Grandpa to my room and relate the entire conversation that I had had with the preacher, but if I did that, then maybe he wouldn’t bother havin’ that talk with Auntie Lou after all. I felt all torn up inside. It didn’t seem fair to the preacher for me to remain silent, and yet maybe my silence was all that it would take to keep Auntie Lou. Somewhere down the road, I promised myself, after everything was settled, I’d for sure tell Grandpa jest what I had learned firsthand about the preacher. Surely it wouldn’t really hurt him none if I jest kept quiet for a time.
G
RANDPA MUST HAVE HAD
his “little talk” with Lou. I don’t know what was said. Lou was attempting to be her own sweet self, but I could feel a tension or strain there. Her cheeriness now seemed put on or unnatural, and at times I saw a real wistful look on her face, like she was yearnin’ for something that she couldn’t have.
The next Sunday at church she smiled as she shook the pastor’s hand, but when he attempted to detain her for a minute, she hurried on. He looked puzzled but was hardly in a position to run after her.
We headed into another week. Our weather still did not change.
It had been a strange fall. Everyone would look back on it and remember it for its dryness. All through the late summer and fall, we had noticed the lack of moisture. Even the farmers who were normally noted for their lateness at harvest had plenty of time to get their crops in and get all of their fall work done. Mr. Wilkes’ threshin’ machine had sat idle for many weeks and there were still no late rainstorms.
