Rain (2 page)

"Which one do you want to look in?" asked Miriam.

Lilah pointed to the middle box in the right-hand stack. "This one," she said.

Miriam took a small key from her pocket, and went to a peculiar little chest in the corner of the room. It was as tall as she and as narrow, and had a mirror on the door. Lilah loved this upright chest, for she had never seen one that was anything like it. Inside were a dozen narrow shelves, and on those shelves Miriam kept things no one else was allowed to see. On the top shelf were nothing but keys, hundreds and hundreds of keys that opened God and Miriam only knew what locks. Without hesitation Miriam withdrew a ring of tiny keys from the back, and unerringly inserted one into the lock of the chest that Lilah had chosen. The case opened instantly.

Inside were earrings, jumbled together: bobs in emeralds and bobs in rubies and diamonds; pearl drops in gold settings; tiny golden studs delicately fashioned in the shape of stars, and ships, and horses; fancy antique drops, the like of which Lilah had never known existed, massive with filigreed metalwork and a variety of stones; chaste modern work of single black pearls. Pressing her hands into the box, she was stung with sharp clasps and pins and facets— but she felt a thrill to such pain. It seemed impossible that each piece she picked up had its mate somewhere in the welter of gems, but Miriam assured her that it was so. "I don't buy single pieces," Miriam said, "and I never lose anything, so they're all there somewhere."

"Don't you want me to match them up for you?"

"Why bother?" asked Miriam. "We'd just put them right back in the box and they'd all get mixed together again. Besides, Queenie's probably about to starve to death. Pick out a pair and try them on."

Lilah's ears weren't pierced, so she had to find bobs. She found one of a square-cut massive red stone. "What is this?"

"Rhodolite. It's from South Africa. I bought those on Fifth Avenue in New York in 1953."

Miriam thrust her hand into the box, and in another second she was holding its mate. Lilah wasn't even certain that Miriam had looked. She seemed to have found it by its feel. Miriam clapped the bobs on her niece's ears. They were absurdly heavy, and dragged at the child's lobes.

"How do they look?" cried Lilah, peering into the mirror.

"Very silly," said Miriam. "Now go show Sister— and hurry! My stomach was growling all the way through the sermon this morning."

"I know," said Lilah, scampering out of the door. "I heard it."

Lilah ran down the hall again and entered Sister's room. She went up to Sister's bedside and turned her head this way and that for the jewels to be admired.

"They are precious," said Sister, "and so are you, darling."

"Thank you."

"Miriam never lets anybody but you try on her jewelry."

"She's got so much!" whispered Lilah.

"It's a wonder we can afford to eat in this house," said Sister severely, "with what Miriam spends on that junk."

"It's not junk!"

"It is when she doesn't wear it! That's probably the first time those things have ever been worn since she bought them."

"I have to take them off," said Lilah with a sigh.

"Lilah!" Miriam called from the hall. "We got to get going!"

Lilah started to turn away, but Sister's hand shot out from beneath the light coverlet and grabbed her arm.

"Your daddy's lonely," Sister said in a low voice.

"Ma'am?"

"Your daddy's lonely since your mama got drowned in the Perdido."

"Yes, ma'am..." agreed Lilah tentatively, also in a low voice.

"That was two years ago, wasn't it? Two years ago last May."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm surprised he's not married yet."

"Married? Who would Daddy get married to?" asked Lilah in all surprise.

Sister looked closely at Lilah, and then looked significantly at the door.

Lilah followed that gaze uncomprehendingly.

"Who?" she asked again.

Sister nodded, but wouldn't speak.

"You mean Daddy might marry Miriam?"

"Who else?"

"Daddy's not gone marry Miriam," exclaimed Lilah. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody told me. Nobody had to tell me. Y'all think just because I'm confined to my bed of pain that I don't know anything, that I don't see anything. Well, I do. Queenie tells me everything I need to hear. I have visitors. I have my own eyes, looking out this window. And I have the leisure to figure things out. I am gone be real surprised if you don't have a new mama before long."

"Sister," said Lilah, "I cain't believe it. I'm gone ask Miriam."

"If you do, she'll deny it. She won't give me the satisfaction of saying I was right. But one of these days you're gone walk in from the school, and your Daddy is gone say, 'Lilah, honey, Miriam and I have just run off and gotten ourselves married.' You see if he doesn't."

"I still don't think so."

"Don't you want those earrings?" Sister flicked a bony finger against the bob on Lilah's left ear. Lilah winced.

"Yes, ma'am. Course I do."

"If Miriam becomes your mama, you'll get those when she dies. You'll be heiress to a fortune in gems."

Lilah looked very doubtful about Sister's predictions. Miriam called out again.

"I got to go," said Lilah, pulling away.

Sister smiled knowingly and let go of Lilah's arm. Lilah ran out of the room. Miriam waited in the hallway and snatched the bobs from Lilah's ears and dropped them into her pocket. "Elinor's gone kill us," she said to Lilah, "so let's get a move on."

In Perdido's opinion, Billy Bronze had insufficiently mourned the death of his wife. Frances Caskey drowned in the Perdido one stormy night in the spring of 1956. Billy had been away at the time. Desultorily, the Perdido was dragged, above and below the junction, but Frances's body was not recovered. Elinor had told Billy of her daughter Frances's death: "She went out, Billy, the way she always did. But this time she just didn't come back."

Billy said, "It certainly wasn't like Frances to go off and drown herself. I never knew anybody who could swim better than she could. It stormed that night, you said. Maybe she got hit by lightning."

Billy's grief was quiet. He went to work as usual, his routines were unaltered, his appetite was unaffected, he never seemed distracted at odd moments. He slept alone at night now, and that seemed the main difference in his life. Perdido saw this apparent unfeelingness in Billy, and thought ill of him for it. Yet the Caskeys stood up for Billy. With a quiet word or two here and there, Elinor and Queenie reminded the town just how distant Frances had been in the last few years of her life, how she had begun to ignore both husband and daughter, how she had seemed to care for nothing but the river.

Billy, though he may have been alienated from his wife, certainly remained on good terms with the rest of the family. That relationship was unchanged by his wife's death. He remained in the house with his mother- and father-in-law, Elinor and Oscar, and gave no thought to moving anywhere else. When Oscar pointed out that some trouble might arise from the problem of Frances's body never having been found, Billy only asked, "What sort of trouble?"

"Well," said Oscar uncomfortably, "in case you wanted to get married again..."

"Married!" laughed Billy. "Who on earth am I supposed to get married to, Oscar?"

"I don't know," said Oscar, "but there might be somebody, someday. I don't see it, I admit, but it might come about. Someday."

Billy laughed again. "Elinor wouldn't let me." And he shrugged an intelligible shrug, signifying, and I wouldn't want her to, either.

Billy's relationship with Miriam in these first two years of his widowerhood was the same as it always had been. They were as friendly, as intimate, and as businesslike as ever. It had never occurred to anyone, until it occurred to Sister, that there might be the possibility of a marriage between Billy Bronze and his sister-in-law. Lilah had no strong feelings about what the consequences of such a union might be, but had vague thoughts that they might be bad. So she went to her grandmother, and said, "Is Daddy gone marry Miriam? And if he marries her, does that mean I automatically get her jewels when she dies?"

"Where on earth did you get such an idea?" Elinor asked her granddaughter.

"From Sister. Sister says it's just a matter of time before Daddy and Miriam run off together. Are they gone live over here, or are they gone live next door?"

Elinor said, "I don't want to hear another word about this. It's not polite."

"Not polite?" asked Lilah, bewildered.

"Not polite," Elinor repeated, and for a time that was an end to the question for Lilah.

But not for Elinor. Elinor went to Oscar, and asked, "Have you heard anything about Billy marrying Miriam?"

Oscar hadn't heard of it. Neither had Queenie, or Lucille, or Grace, or Zaddie, or Ivey. Elinor called on Sister, and said, "Where did you get such an idea, Sister?"

Sister leaned importantly back on her pillows, and said with an air of mystery, "I know what I know..."

"Oscar," said Elinor, unsatisfied, "talk to Miriam. You're the only one in this family she'll listen to."

"What difference does it make whether Billy marries Miriam or not?" Oscar asked.

"I'm not sure," Elinor conceded, "but we ought to see if we can find out one way or the other."

That evening, then, at the dinner table, while Zad-die was clearing before dessert, Oscar cleared his throat, and said, "Miriam, can I ask you a question without your jumping down my throat?"

"I don't know," said Miriam, not one to be trapped as easily as that. "Maybe. Maybe not. What's the question?"

"Well..." said Oscar hesitantly, "maybe I should ask Billy instead."

Billy glanced at Oscar, then at Miriam, and said, "Ask me, sure. I won't get mad."

"I'll ask both of you, then," said Oscar, then hesitated. Zaddie stood in the doorway, stacks of dishes piled high in both hands.

"Get on, Mr. Oscar," Zaddie said, " 'fore I break every one of these plates."

"We've been wondering..."

"Who's been wondering?" asked Miriam.

"All of us," blurted Malcolm, and blushed.

"Wondering what?" said Billy.

"Wondering if the two of you were planning on running off and getting married."

Billy and Miriam looked at each other in amazement.

"Y'all have been sitting around the house thinking about that?" said Miriam after a few moments of stunned silence.

"Miriam and me?" croaked Billy.

"Sister said it," cried Queenie.

"Sister," said Miriam sharply, "has forgotten that there is another world down at the other end of that hallway."

"Then you're not?" asked Lilah.

"Of course not," said Miriam. "That's the biggest piece of foolishness I have ever heard. Why on earth would I want to marry Billy?"

"Well, you're together all the time," said Queenie. "And Billy's lonely and sad without Frances. You're always making trips together anyway, so you might as well be married. Billy wouldn't marry anybody except a Caskey, and you wouldn't take the trouble to go after some man that was a stranger to you."

"Those are Sister's ideas," said Elinor.

"Well, they are completely wrong," said Miriam. "I cain't speak for Billy—"

"Yes, you can," said Billy quickly.

"—but we have never even thought of getting married, and we're not about to get married now."

"I miss Frances," said Billy, "but I've got Lilah here to keep me company. I don't need another wife. And I wouldn't think of bringing some woman here y'all didn't know anything about."

"Wouldn't have her anyway," snapped Elinor.

"I know that," said Billy, "and I'm not about to give y'all up just to have somebody to keep my feet warm at night."

So yet another of Sister's analyses was shattered, and the family was relieved. They weren't even quite sure why they were relieved, but they were. Zaddie took the dishes out, brought coffee, more plates, more forks, and then came in with a blackberry pie that was hot out of the oven; there was peach ice cream on the side.

Elinor poured coffee and passed it around. They talked of other things now, but Miriam was still and silent. She turned her cup around and around in its saucer and looked moodily about the room. Finally, when the conversation flagged for a moment, she glanced up and remarked, "Besides, you know, Billy and I couldn't get married."

"Why not?" said Queenie, whose most fervent purpose in life was to keep conversations going. "Because Frances hasn't been declared legally dead yet?"

"No," said Miriam. "Because I'm already engaged."

M
iriam looked around the table. "Well," she said after a moment, "isn't anybody going to bother to ask me who it is? I don't go off and get married every day, you know."

Everyone at the table was dumbfounded. If it wasn't Billy, then who on earth was Miriam going to wed?

"Who?" said Queenie at last. "Miriam, we are so happy for you, whoever it is, but..."

"But what?" said Miriam.

"But we had no idea," said Oscar.

Miriam shrugged. "Neither did I. I just decided. This minute. Y'all want me to get married so bad, guess I'll have to get married."

"Have you told the man?" asked Elinor.

"Not yet," said Miriam. "Maybe I ought to do that right now." She looked directly across the table at Malcolm, who had been silent and wide-eyed through all this, and said, "Malcolm, I accept your proposal." Then she turned her gaze first to Queenie on one side of Malcolm, and then to Elinor at the head of the table. "Which one of y'all wants to arrange the wedding?"

Queenie grabbed her son's arm beneath the tablecloth. "Malcolm!" she hissed. "What in the world do you mean by asking Miriam to marry you?"

"He is marrying me for my money, Queenie," said Miriam, unperturbed. "And because I tell him what to do. And 'cause he loves me, I guess. Malcolm needs somebody to keep him in line, and you're not always gone be around. You're an old woman, Queenie."

"I know that," returned Queenie. "But why are you accepting?"

"Because I probably should get married," said Miriam. "And because Malcolm is right here asking, and because y'all know that I am not about to put up with somebody who's gone cause me one ounce of trouble. And Malcolm," Miriam went on, eyeing her new fiance across the table, "you are gone continue to do just what I tell you to, aren't you?"