Valley So Low (14 page)

“Good,” Granny said. “Then let’s eat so Harry can get cleaned up.”

Chapter Eleven

Maude noticed Uncle Fred shied away from Harry at the supper table but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the lice or the odor.  The sour stench emanating from Harry and his garments wilted most of Maude’s appetite.  She recognized the rank smell of the jailhouse but she didn’t enjoy it permeating her nose.  Although Harry claimed to be hungry, she noticed he ate little enough and when he pushed back his bowl, he wrinkled his nose. “Guess it takes a fella a little time to get back on his feed,” he said. “I ain’t ate much for most of two weeks and I guess my belly’s shrunk.  It’s good, though.”

In the brighter illumination of the big oil lamp, Maude saw what she hadn’t at the jail—how weary Harry appeared and how haggard he looked with harsh lines cut into his face.  He seemed awfully pale beneath the grime, but anyone would be white and wan after an ordeal in jail.  “Let me clean up the dishes,” she said. “Why don’t you go ahead and shave, then I’ll warm water for your bath and help you with your hair.”

“I’ll be glad to lend a hand,” Granny said. Maude scrutinized the old woman.  Fatigue was evident in her face and had since Granny’s bout with the flu, but they’d worked hard doing laundry too. She started to reject the offer and changed her mind.  Granny loved Harry too, and wanted to do what she could. “I appreciate it,” she said. “If you want to get the soap and lard ready, maybe Uncle Fred could fetch the tub.”

Once the dishes were clean and put away, Maude filled the big galvanized tub about half full of water, then added hot water from the stove.  Harry shed his dirty clothes and Granny snatched them before they touched her clean kitchen floor.  She carried them outside with an extended arm. Harry watched her go. “What’s she gonna do with them now?”

“She vowed she’d burn them,” Maude told him.

“Good riddance to them,” Harry replied with a small grin. “I don’t know what I’ll wear, though.  All my clothes are at the farm.”

“Granny picked out some near worn-out overalls, a shirt, and long johns from Uncle Fred’s bureau,” she told him. “Go ahead and get in while the water’s warm.”

Maude handed him a bar of Ivory soap and a nubbin of homemade lye soap. Harry used a faded rag to soap up and scrub hard.  While he washed, Maude combed out his hair and then coated it all with grease.  The slick fat coated her fingers and the sensation made her skin crawl, all the more after she caught sight of a few lice on the move.  “Are you sure this’ll work?” Harry asked.  “It should,” she said. “I’ve seen it work fine.  The grease smothers the lice and then I can comb them out.  Then I’ll wash your hair good.”

Although some folks vowed the grease needed to stay in the hair all night, Maude had seen it work in a matter of hours.  With fingers crossed and hoping for the best results, she helped him scrub until the bathwater turned dark with dirt.  Long after both Granny and Fred retired for the night, Maude combed out the grease.  Dead bugs and nits were thick in the lard and she wiped away each comb full onto rags which would have to be burned.  It took a long time to get all of them removed but once she felt confident she had, Maude began the arduous task of washing the grease away.  It took a long time, along with Ivory soap, but she managed to get Harry’s hair clean.  He dressed in the hand-me-downs and sat before the kitchen fire, shivering until his hair dried.

Once it did, Harry took her in his arms and kissed her for a very long time.  He held her so tight she struggled to breathe but Maude didn’t complain.  In respect to Uncle Fred’s household, he didn’t grope and they didn’t make love.  When they went to bed, Maude retreated to the small back bedroom and Harry, as Granny directed earlier, bunked in one of the other rooms.  Before they parted, he kissed her one more time.

“Tomorrow, we’ll be married,” he said. “And we’ll go home soon as we can, fetch George, and get back to living.  Good night, honey.”

Maude clung to him a few more seconds. “’Night, Harry,” she told him. “I love you.”

“Aw, Maudie, I love you too.”

With her heart bursting with joy and her mind overflowing with plans, Maude slept little.  In the early morning hours, she realized she had nothing decent to wear to her wedding.  The one dress she’d worn when she left home was one of her better housedresses but it wasn’t fancy, and the one she’d borrowed from Granny looked too homely for a wedding.  Poor Harry lacked anything but his uncle’s castoffs. 
We’ll be a ragged pair but a happy one.

She remained in bed until she caught the aroma of coffee and frying bacon wafting upstairs.  Maude dressed and headed downstairs after peeking into the other room to see if Harry still slept.  The empty bed, already made, sent her downstairs in a hurry, eager to see her groom.  She found him at the kitchen table, coffee in hand and a smile for her.

“Good morning, Maudie,” Harry said. “Sun’s shining for your weddin’ day. I’ve always heard happy’s the bride the sun shines on.”

“I am.” Maude stepped behind him to pour a cup of coffee as Granny entered the kitchen. “And you shouldn’t see the bride before the wedding, neither,” the older woman fussed although she wore a smile.

“We’re finished with bad luck,” Harry said. He stretched out his hand to Maude and she took it but invisible cold feet scampered down her back.  His cheerful words seemed to tempt fate and she didn’t like that much. “Sit down and have some biscuits and gravy, honey.”

Her stomach twinged at the idea. “Oh, I can’t. I’m too nervous to eat,” Maude told him with a little laugh. 

Granny added her suggestion. “Then go upstairs and get ready.”

Maude glanced down at her dress, plain but clean.  None of the patches were evident. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.  I don’t have much else to wear but this.”

“Come with me. I’ve got something fine for you to wear.  It’s borrowed and blue.”

Curious, Maude caught Harry’s eye but he shrugged.  Whatever surprise Granny might have, he must be as unaware as she.  Dutiful as a daughter, she followed the old woman back upstairs.  Maude hesitated in the doorway of the bedroom.  Back on the farm, she’d been in and out of the room Granny and Granpa shared often, but here in Fred’s home, shyness seized her. “Don’t dawdle,” Granny said.  Maude advanced a few steps.  The familiar furniture stood in place, the cedar chest Granpa built for his bride rested beneath a widow the same way it had at the farm.  “Take off your old dress and put this on.”

She pointed to a lovely gown spread across the bed.  Fashioned from fine linen, the dress boasted hand-tatted lace.  Maude touched the light blue fabric.  “It’s pretty,” she said.  It was also a few years out of date, no more than six or eight, she guessed. “Where’d it come from?”

“It’s Rose Mae’s weddin’ dress.  I borrowed it from her husband.  She always thought a lot of Harry and called him her favorite cousin.  I thought she’d be pleased to think his bride wore her gown.”

“I’d be proud to,” Maude said. She wouldn’t go to her wedding, such as it was, in rags after all.  Half an hour later, she gazed at her reflection in the dresser mirror.  Granny did her hair in braids, then pinned them around her head like a crown.  The old-fashioned style suited both Maude and the dress.  “You’ve got something old, borrowed, and blue all in one,” Granny remarked. “And I bought you this string of fake pearls at the notions store so you’d have new.”

She fastened the necklace around Maude’s neck and produced an elaborate hat.  It matched the dress in style and age so Maude realized it must also have been Rose Mae’s.  At Granny’s direction, Maude wrapped a soft white shawl around her shoulders.  “Without it, you’d freeze but you look pretty anyway. Wait till Harry sees you.”

When Maude came down the stairs with slow tread, Harry waited at the bottom.  The look in his eyes seared deep into her soul, admiration and love combined with wanton desire.  She couldn’t look away from his eyes and didn’t realize until she reached the third step from the bottom he’d changed clothes too.  He wore a black suit jacket over a pair of denim pants and a white dress shirt.  Comb tracks remained where he’d tried to comb order into his hair.  The black eye he’d suffered before Christmas had gone and the last of the bruises were so faint she had to squint to see them. “You’re a beauty,” he said when she reached him. “Let’s go get hitched, honey.”

Although cold, the January day sparkled with bright sunshine as they walked the few blocks down to the courthouse. Few people were out and about, kept home by the flu or fear of it. Maude noted more than a few black wreaths hung on the front doors of homes where someone died and realized many must be from the flu.  A number of stores were closed up tight. Harry coughed, hard, several times and she wondered if he’d caught cold while in jail. Or maybe he’d taken a chill while sitting in the tub so long while she combed the lice from his hair.  Either way, she decided she’d dose him with some honey when they got home.

The tall brick edifice loomed up like a storybook castle in the center of the downtown square.  Granny and Uncle Fred accompanied them to serve as witnesses.  As they crossed the broad marble floors, the heels on the button-up shoes Maude borrowed from Granny tapped out a fast rhythm.  They bought the marriage license and asked Judge Reiner to do the honors.  His next court session didn’t begin for another hour so he agreed and they entered his chambers, a dark room smelling of stale cigar smoke and good bourbon.  Maude recalled her first wedding, a more elaborate church affair, but she had no regrets.  She loved Harry and she didn’t need a preacher, a cake, or wedding guests to mark their union.

They spoke their vows facing one another, the traditional words resonating with fullness and meaning for Maude.  Harry’s deeper voice rumbled as he said his promises, and the sound of it touched her like music.  He looks a little pale, she thought, as she focused on his face.  She’d wager he had one of his headaches too.  The fine line between his eyes cut deeper the way it did when his head hurt and because she knew him so well, Maude noticed the slight way he clenched his jaw.  Although they’d made no plans after getting married, she’d hoped they might find a few dollars to rent a room at one of the local hotels.  She’d never stayed in one before and thought she’d like the novelty.  If it wasn’t for the snow, they’d head home to the farm but enough still covered the ground to be treacherous, all the more dangerous out in the country.  The idea of making love under Fred’s roof turned her bashful but watching Harry, reminding herself the ordeal he’d suffered in jail, Maude thought she could wait for loving and let her husband get the rest he needed.

“By the authority given me by the State of Missouri, I pronounce you man and wife,” Judge Reiner announced. “Sir, you may kiss your bride.” Harry took Maude’s hands in his, warmer than usual against her cold fingers, and touched his mouth to her lips.  She already wore his ring and hadn’t seen any need to remove it just so he could put it back.   Afterward, the judge and the two witnesses signed the marriage certificate.  Judge Reiner slapped Harry on the back and said, “I’m glad to officiate at your wedding, young man, instead of sending you to the state penitentiary. Congratulations to you both.”

Several other courthouse officials and employees stuck their heads into the office to offer congratulations.  Maude basked in the warm glow of love and delighted in her new status.  There’d be talk, she imagined, a recent widow remarrying so soon and to her brother-in-law, but she didn’t care.  She accepted Granny’s hug and the kind words of several people but when she noticed Harry seemed distracted, some of her joy faded.  “What’s wrong?” she whispered, pressed close against him so no one else would hear. “I’ve got an awful headache,” he told her with a weak attempt at a smile. “I’m just tired, I guess.  I’m sorry, honey.”

“Don’t be,” she told him. “We’ll go back to Fred’s and you can get some rest.”

They made their excuses and moved out of the chambers.  Granny and Fred followed, pausing to visit with people they knew.  On the way down the stairs toward the exit, Harry came to an abrupt stop.  Then he sat down hard on the steps and put his head down.  Alarmed, Maude almost missed her footing and grabbed his shoulder to catch hold before she tumbled. “Harry?” she asked.

“I had a dizzy turn,” he said, head still down. “My head’s still spinnin’.”

“Are you all right?” He lifted his face toward her and frowned. “I don’t know,” he said. “I feel kinda bad.”

Maude touched his forehead with the back of her hand and winced. His skin burned beneath her touch. “You’re running a fever,” she said. Granny reached her side. “Is he sick?”

Maude nodded. “Well, let’s get him home and to bed.” The older woman’s voice carried none of the panic or fear Maude possessed. “C’mon, Harry, let’s go.”

Although Harry managed to gain his feet and walk out of the courthouse on his own, Maude worried.  The closer they came to Fred’s house, the slower Harry moved, and by the time they entered, Harry drooped like a wilting leaf.  He managed the stairs but with effort, and Maude directed him toward the little room where she slept.  With her help, Harry removed his borrowed garments and in his red flannel underwear made no protest when she tucked him into the narrow bed.  She remembered she wore Rose Mae’s dress and changed back into her faded housedress before she sat on the edge of the bed.  Harry, who’d looked no more than pale earlier, appeared very ill now.  His eyes were shut tight but when she said his name, he opened them.  “Maudie, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to get sick on our wedding day.”

She took his hand in hers. “Don’t be, Harry,” she said. “It’s not your fault.  I promised to love you in sickness and in health.  I just didn’t know how soon we’d face the sickness part, that’s all.  Can you tell me what hurts?”