Veda: A Novel (7 page)

I stayed on in Salem for the rest of the summer while Raymond followed crops. I got his letters regular as clockwork, each one sayin he was broke, the job he was on had ended, and he was movin on to some other place. And always, of course, the weather.

October 1, 1941 (Wed) [Max 64°, Min 43°.] Changeable and unsettled with light showers. I arrived at Troutdale today, found a room and then hunted up a job in the gladiola bulbs for a Mr. Burris. He has a house where I can live while working.

I tore Raymond’s letter open and shook it. Nothin. I was really hopin for some money this time. His folks were feedin us, but the kids were growin like weeds and they needed shoes and clothes. Disappointed, I plopped down on a stump in the yard and started to read. He had been sick, he said, so he couldn’t work. Said he used what money he had for stomach medicine and a place to sleep. Christ, what’s goin to become of us? I kept readin, skippin over the weather report, lookin for some glimmer of hope. Then there it was. “…a new job in Troutdale … keep me busy for several months … a house as a part of my compensation.” I read it again to make sure. He went on to say it was a nice area, beautiful country, on the Columbia River. I didn’t care about none of that. What I cared about was the job. And the house!

“My boss will drive me to Salem and move our household goods for us. Have everything packed and be ready to leave on Sunday.”

I grabbed Rosalie and whirled her round and round. She didn’t know why her mama was happy, but she giggled and hugged me anyway. I started packin up right then and there. It didn’t take me no time at all.

Raymond and his new boss pulled into the yard in a battered blue truck, and we were loaded up in minutes. Mr. Burris was a stocky older man. Real friendly with the kids. Teased Rosalie and put Bubby up next to him on the seat sayin he could help him drive. I could see right off he was a good man, willin to come all the way down to Salem, almost fifty miles, to git Raymond’s family. And provide us a house, rent-free. I couldn’t git over how lucky we were.

Mr. Burris talked while he drove, pointin out things, tellin us about his family and his business. After a time, he pulled the truck over to the side of the road and we got out. I’d brought sandwiches and a jar of milk for the kids. We had a little picnic and then we walked around to stretch our legs before goin on.

I was thrilled with the house, and Dorothy Burris turned out to be ever bit as nice as her husband. She come over with a big box of clothes and toys left from when her children were little. Said to let her know if there was anythin she could do to help me. Said she would be more than happy to drive me to town whenever I needed to go.

I wrote about it to Mama. How nice the Burrises were. How much I liked the house. My folks had sold the Cave Junction place and moved to Grants Pass. I missed them and wanted to see their new place, but for the first time since I got married it wasn’t ’cause I didn’t want to be where I was. We were better off than we’d ever been. Raymond had work. We had a house. I had my own kitchen. There was no Myrtle or Mrs. Oliver naggin at me, and I was really enjoyin my kids. They were beautiful, both of em. Smart and funny. Specially Rosalie. She made me laugh a dozen times a day.

Except for a few rides to town with Dorothy, I kept pretty much to myself, but it felt good knowin we had neighbors that would help out if we needed somethin. Mr. Burris, once in a while, would come by to ask how we was gittin on. He always stood awhile, visitin, bein friendly. One time Raymond seen me talkin to him and spent the whole night in a snit. Said I was flauntin myself. Said he seen me laugh and demanded to know what we were talkin about. I told him we was just visitin, that was all. I knew it upset him, but it wasn’t like he thought. I told him Mr. Burris was a nice man and I wasn’t goin to run and hide ever’time he come around, that as long as we was livin in his house and he was payin Raymond’s wages, I was at least goin to be neighborly.

.

14

October 23, 1941 (Thurs.) [Max 57°, Min 40°.] Fair and cool all day with last evening’s high cold wind from Mt. Hood’s glacier continuing all day attaining an average velocity of from 25 to 35 miles per hour. A brand of weather to which I am unaccustomed, I worked in the bulbs in spite of the wind.

R
AYMOND WASN’T HAPPY
with what the job turned out to be. Mr. Burris expected him to work even when the wind blew, and if there was anythin Raymond hated, it was wind. But that wasn’t what ended it.

Dorothy had give me a ride to town and seen how I was tryin to stretch the grocery money. She asked if her husband wasn’t payin Raymond enough to feed his family. I told her that wasn’t it. I said Mr. Burris was real generous, it was just that after Raymond paid our tithe to the church it left me short. I should of kept that to myself. She went right home and told her husband.

Mr. Burris jumped down from his truck, and started yellin at Raymond. “Jesus Christ, man, the reason I don’t charge you rent on the god-damned house is so you’ll have money to spend on your family. Buy groceries. Buy clothes for your kids. Get that pretty wife of yours a new dress. If you’ve got money to give away, I’ll damn well start chargin you rent.”

Well, Raymond wasn’t goin to put up with nobody takin the Lord’s name in vain like that, so he says, “I quit! I won’t stick around and work for a man who uses that kind of language.”

“Fine, quit if you want,” Mr. Burris said, “but you ain’t draggin Veda and them babies along while you look for a new job. You leave them here until you find work and a decent place to live.”

Raymond didn’t argue, he just turned around and went in the house. I stood there and watched my world fall down around me. This was the first good job Raymond’d had and I was so happy when he got it. Now he’d gone and quit without givin me and the kids a thought. Tears stung my eyes. Raymond already had it in his head there was somethin between Mr. Burris and me, and I knew I should refuse Mr. Burris’s offer to stay, but I had the kids to think about. It was clear that Mr. Burris, who barely knew me, cared more about us than my husband did. Raymond left the next mornin, vowin to send for us as soon as he found work. Swore he wasn’t goin to leave us with a “blasphemer” any longer’n he had to.

October 30, 1941 (Thurs.) [Max 60°, Min 38°.] Mostly clear all this a.m. following the coolest morning we have had this fall, becoming hazy and cloudy this p.m. but remaining quite cool until late. I left the Burris place this a.m. and I have found a job picking up potatoes. I will be getting 40 cents an hour instead of the 30 cents I was getting from Mr. Burris. I expect to start tomorrow.

Landin a job that paid better was sort of like thumbin his nose at Mr. Burris, but I wasn’t dumb enough to think the ten-cent difference made up for losin the house. Then after crowin about the better wages, Raymond wrote to tell me the weather was bad and he wasn’t gittin much work after all.

The dollars dribbled in from Raymond a few at a time, always with a letter sayin he was barely makin enough to keep himself fed and he couldn’t see his way clear to find us a place to live. I knew how lucky I was we had a roof over our heads, but I needed money to buy groceries. I decided to ask Dorothy Burris if she had some work I could do.

When I seen the little bit of ironin, I knew she was just bein charitable when she said she couldn’t keep up. Raymond could say what he wanted about the Burrises, but I thought they were the most Christian people I ever come across. Instead of thinkin themselves better than other people the way Raymond did, they helped folks out. Like givin Raymond the job in the first place. Givin us a place to live. Carin about us. I thought a lot about that, and about what bein a Christian meant. Was Raymond bein a good Christian by turnin down work in order to keep the Sabbath? By despisin folks that used tobacco and alcohol? By quittin a perfectly good job ’cause his boss blasphemed? Wasn’t providin for his children somethin a Christian ought to do?

Me and the kids started spendin a couple mornins a week in Dorothy Burris’s kitchen where I felt safe and welcome. While she made bread or pies, I ironed. I sprinkled the pieces with water from a Coke bottle and rolled em up. Then, pullin one piece at a time from the basket, I’d run the iron over it till I had it all perfect. I liked the hiss of the hot iron and the sweet, hot smell of steam. The radio would be playin and I’d lose myself in the back and forth rhythm. Smoothin, foldin, pressin, and foldin again. Rosalie got up on a stool beside Dorothy to help roll pie dough, and Bubby played on the floor with lids. Ever since Mr. Burris held him behind the steerin wheel of his truck, Bubby’s favorite game was pretendin to drive.

“Mithter Burrith is a blathphemer,” Rosalie blurted out one mornin. I stopped halfway up the side of a pillowcase, my face on fire, and tried to think of somethin to say. I couldn’t git after her, she was just repeatin what she heard.

“I’m so sorry,” I said to Mrs. Burris. “She’s just… Raymond didn’t… I mean… What he meant was…”

Dorothy wiped her hands on her apron and set down. She looked at Rosalie for a long time. Then she started laughin. She laughed and laughed till there was tears rollin down her cheeks.

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15

December 7, 1941 (Sun.) [Max 48°, Min 37°.] Clear, fair and cool all day with chilly east-to-northeast wind, Clear and colder at night and still, wind has moved into the north so we will probably have a hard freeze before morning, Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, this morning.

I
T WAS IN DOROTHY’S KITCHEN
that I heard the news about Pearl Harbor. Me and her set at the table, leanin close to the radio, listnin to Edward R. Murrow and Gabriel Heatter, the hiss and crackle makin it seem like the war was right there in the kitchen with us. I kept thinkin how my troubles were nothin compared to all them women that lost their husbands and would have to raise their children alone. Or the ones plannin to be married that wouldn’t git the chance. I couldn’t git over how awful it was.

Raymond come back to the house a couple days before Christmas, out of work and with just enough money in his pocket for a few groceries. Mr. Burris must of knew he was there, but he didn’t come over. Dorothy did, though, and if it wasn’t for the presents she brought for the kids, they wouldn’t of had none. Raymond told me to send em back. Said he didn’t want his children gittin gifts bought with a blasphemer’s money. I asked him what he thought we were livin on all this time. “It’s Christmas,” I said, “and the kids are keepin these presents. If you take that little bit of pleasure away from em, I’ll never speak to you again.”

January 12, 1942 (Mon.) [Max 31°, Min 19°.] Severely cold again today, also rather cloudy and overcast, with wind, which makes this the bitterest cold spell I have ever experienced and it finds us without fuel, groceries or lights, even without water until 3 days ago.

The new year started off with a blizzard. Electric lines were down and the pipes froze. We were out of wood and the house was so cold I was havin to wrap the kids up in blankets. I begged Raymond to go up to Burris’s and borrow some wood so I could cook, but he paced, slappin his arms, and blowin on his hands, and wouldn’t budge. I was disgusted. He’d been gone for almost two months while we lived hand to mouth, and now he was back actin like a spoiled baby.

“Why in God’s name can’t you at least go and ask?” I yelled at him.

“I won’t deal with a blasphemer,” he said.

I was shakin, I was so mad. His children were cold and hungry and all he cared about was his principles.

“Don’t you care about anybody but yourself?” I screamed steppin toward him. He raised his arm to keep me back, and his hand hit my nose. It started to bleed.

“If you won’t go, I will.” I grabbed his work coat and gloves off the hook and pushed the door against the wind. The Burris’s house was about two hundred yards from our place and the snow was blowin so hard I could barely see. I tried to walk, but I kept fallin. Finally I stayed down and crawled.

“What the hell happened,” Mr. Burris asked when he opened the door, “did you fall?”

“I need to borrow some wood.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said. “He didn’t hit you, did he? Did that little weasel hit you?”

“I’m all right,” I said. “He’s just upset. It’s my fault, I was yellin at him.”

“Like hell it is!” he shouted. “I’ll show that sonofabitch a thing or two.”

“No, please don’t,” I said. “He didn’t do it on purpose.”

Mr. Burris wasn’t listenin. He threw a bunch of wood on a sled and told me to git on. Then he pulled me back up to the house. Raymond was on his knees prayin, and when he saw who was with me, he started scootin backwards. That’s when Mr. Burris grabbed him by the collar, held him up, and punched him. Raymond fell backwards and Mr. Burris turned to me.

“Are you going to be all right?”

I nodded. He turned again to Raymond. “If you touch her again, I’ll see you locked up.”

I built a fire and fixed the kids some supper while Raymond sat, crumpled up like a wad of paper. His lip started to swell, but I was too angry to care. I knew he hadn’t meant to hit me, but he could of said he was sorry. Not just for bloodyin my nose, but for bein such a pitiful excuse for a father.

The storm went on for more than a week, and all the while Raymond paced like a caged animal. When it finally let up, he hitched a ride into town with a delivery truck driver. “I’ll let you know when I find a job,” he said. “And I fully intend to report Mr. Burris’s assault to the police.”

April 12, 1942 (Sun.) [Max 71°, Min 25°.] Clear and warm, a perfect day, the third fine, warm Sunday in succession. This has certainly been a beautiful April so far. I have a new job in Canby, so I have located an apartment and paid a week’s rent on it.

Raymond wrote to say he had a job and had rented a furnished apartment, so Mr. Burris drove me and the kids to Canby. I didn’t like the looks of the town. Canneries, packin plants and railroad tracks. The apartment was in a rundown two-story clapboard with a cattywampus front porch. Rickety stairs leaned against one side of the house, and thick green moss covered the roof like a blanket. Mr. Burris stayed in the truck with the kids while I went to the door.