Caleb's Wars (12 page)

Randall looked disgusted. "Jeez, Caleb! When he ain't around, plain ol' 'Davis' is good enough for him."

"
More
than he deserve," Pop added. "I'll allow he done us a favor, but some so-called favors ain't worth the cost."

I waited. Pop was working himself up to say something ugly.

He turned to me. "So, how's it feel to be rubbin' shoulders with somebody who'd just as soon kill your brother as look at him? It warn't enough to go runnin' to the white man for a job. Only you could of found a place where you got to breathe the same air as one of them Nazis."

"That ain't fair!" Randall exclaimed.

Pop ignored him. "You get to listen while that Hun talk about all the fun he had shootin' Allied soldiers?"

I could answer this. "We don't talk about anything. He can't speak English."

"Course not! If Hitler has his way, all of us be speakin'
German
before it's over. I bet your new friend know how to pull a trigger and use a bayonet, though."

"It ain't Caleb's fault," Randall said. "Lay off him, Pop."

"Don't you tell me what to do! This is between Caleb and me, so you can shut up."

"Frank, please!" Ma said.

Randall stepped between Pop and me. "I don't mean to disrespect you, but it ain't Caleb's fault that Lee Davis'll do anything to save himself a buck—even deal with our enemies. And don't forget: Caleb ain't the only one got to be around 'em. Anybody from Toad Hop workin' for Davis this summer is gonna have to do the same. You don't blame
them.
"

"They ain't workin' for Davis to spite they own father. Caleb had him a decent job, but he warn't satisfied with that." Pop shook his head at me. "I hope you real pleased with yourself. You wanted to spend your summer with the white folks, and now you got your wish. And you got yourself a Nazi, too."

"Oh, Pop, quit it," Randall exclaimed. "We all know how you feel about it. Why can't you let it go? Just forgive him."

"So now you preachin' at me!"

"No, sir. Just tellin' you the truth. Tellin' you what Ma and the rest of us are thinking."

"I see. Now you know what everybody be thinkin'. They must teach a bunch o' stuff in the army they didn't teach back in my day. Like how to read minds."

Ma touched Pop's arm. "Let's not fight. Mr. Lee came out here with
good
news. Just think, Frank. A radio! And an iron. And electric lights in every room. No more kerosene lanterns!"

"I hope Davis can deliver the goods. Be nice if
some-thin
good come out o' all this mess."

I had to agree.

***

Maybe Ma talked some sense into Pop that night, because he didn't go on grousing about me working at the Dixie Belle with Andreas. For his part, Andreas was the same the next day, and the next. He did what he was told and looked for more work, too. When I watched him peeling potatoes, mopping the floor, or enjoying a plate of food next to me in the back alley, I couldn't imagine him wanting to kill Randall or any American soldier, or even firing a rifle. I tried to imagine him a Nazi, a cold-blooded killer, but I couldn't.

I reckoned I should hate him, but I couldn't do that either. After all, he hadn't done anything to me. I prayed about it. When I opened Grandpa's Bible one afternoon, I came to the place where Jesus said we're supposed to love God with all our hearts and souls and minds—and our neighbors as ourselves. In one way Andreas wasn't a neighbor, but in another way he kind of was.

Betty Jean seemed to be reading from that same page, because she was nice to Andreas. Not Voncille. She hated his guts. I heard Betty Jean tell Voncille she thought Andreas was handsome, and Voncille let her have it.

"I can't believe what I'm hearin'!" she cried. "You're an American, ain't you?"

"Yes, ma' am.

"And he's a German! One of Hitler's killers. They've overrun most of Europe! And you know what they do when they take over a place."

"No, ma'am."

Voncille must have whispered something, then she said, "That's right. Women, young girls—girls like you. And you stand there and tell me you think he's good-lookin'? Wake up, Betty Jean! If he makes one move toward you ... I wish he'd give
me
a reason to fix him. Just bein' in the same room with him makes me sick."

"Why do you stay here, then?" Betty Jean wanted to know.

"'Cause jobs are hard to come by! And when the war is over and they ship this Andreas and all the rest of 'em back where they belong, I hope to still be working here. The tips ain't bad, when you come right down to it. Understand?"

Yes, ma am.

"All right, then. So don't let me hear you say another word about him. There's only one thing he wants from you, and he'd be happy to kill you after he got it."

Andreas, a killer? A rapist?

***

Randall's leave was going by fast, and I wasn't seeing him much. The Dixie Belle took my days, and Randall went to Tick's after supper to keep out of Pop's way. Two nights before his leave ended, I reminded Randall what we'd agreed on, and when we were sure the folks were asleep, out the window we went.

"So what do you want to do?" Randall asked me. "This is your night."

I couldn't think of much; just being with my brother was enough. "We could go swimming."

"And freeze our asses off, this early in the spring. But if you want to, I'm game. What else?"

"Could we get something to drink?"

"A Coke? Sure thing."

"Not that. Something ... stronger."

"You mean liquor? You tryin' to get Pop to kill me? 'Cause if he finds out, that's just what he'll do."

"He won't find out, not if we're careful."

"Now you sound like me. What happened to that scared little brother I used to know?"

"How about some cigarettes?"

"Jeez, Caleb. Why not? And I got another idea, too."

Randall led the way around the back of Toad Hop and out into the country, toward Tick's. As we approached, I could hear jazzy music and the sounds of people talking and laughing.

"You stay here. This won't take long."

When Randall came back, he had a brown paper sack. "I got us some good stuff. Real smooth. You'll like it."

"Great. Let's go to the pond. Nobody'll be around."

"Not yet. We got something else to take care of first." With that, he started off again.

"Where we going?"

"Rose's."

My heart started to pound. "For real?"

"It's your time. You want to drink, smoke—just like I was doin' by the time I was your age. Only one thing left. Time you had yourself a woman. How about it?"

"I guess so." I wasn't really sure, but I couldn't let Randall know that. "All right."

"That's it! Nothin' to be nervous about. Rose'll treat you good."

I really wanted to turn around and head back to Toad Hop. But I wanted this other thing, too.

We came to the back of Rose's place. Light shone through the curtained windows of her cabin. I was sweating.

"Come on. She's home. I'll introduce you."

I followed him through the shadows of the tall pines. It was so dark I couldn't see much, and that's why I bumped into Randall when he came to a sudden stop.

"Goddamn it," he muttered.

"What?"

"Look for yourself."

Stewart Davis's red roadster was parked in front of Rose's place.

"Come on! We don't want nothing here. Not now."

"Wait a second." I pushed past him so I could get a better view of the yard. It was quiet, nobody in sight. I took my clasp knife out, flipped open the blade, and hurried over to the car. The blade pierced the right front tire like a hot knife through butter. It did the back tire just as good. In a few seconds, I was back with Randall, and now I was the one pulling him into the woods and safety.

He didn't speak until we were far away from Rose's place. Then he stopped and faced me. "God, Caleb! Why'd you do that?"

I felt like telling the world. "He had it coming!"

"I been into some crazy stuff in my day, but you just beat the hell out of anything I
ever
done. Do you know what'll happen if he finds out who cut his tires?"

I had impressed my big brother, the soldier. "He won't find out. He won't tell anyone, if he can help it."

"You're right about that. I wish we could be there when he finds he got
two
bad tires! Look like he's gonna have a long walk home and a lot of explainin' to do when he gets there."

I enjoyed imagining how Stewart would try to get himself out of the mess I'd made for him.

Back in Toad Hop, we sat on the dock at Hale's Pond. The bourbon was good, a lot smoother than Mr. Artie's nasty moonshine. We were quiet, sipping from the bottle, smoking our Lucky Strikes, and watching for shooting stars, like we used to do when we were kids.

"Let's have that swim," Randall suggested. He stood up and started to undress. In a moment, he was in his drawers. "What you waiting for?"

I got to my feet, and for a second I felt lightheaded.

"Steady. Take a deep breath."

My head cleared, and I stripped to my drawers, too.

"Ready?"

I wasn't sure. The night air felt cool and the pond water was inky black.

"Watch out!" Randall shoved me and I hit the water hard. My head went under, and for a moment I couldn't figure which way was up. But I came to the surface, shivering. And there was Randall on the dock, laughing. "How's the water?"

"You danged fool! That wasn't funny."

"Yeah, it was. Nothing like some cold water to sober you up."

"I'm not drunk!"

"Just tipsy." Then he jumped in. "Man alive, it
is
cold! Ooowee!"

"Told you."

He swam to me and grabbed me around the chest. "Let's see how strong you got since I been gone."

I fought back, trying to get away, but his arms were like iron. Nothing worked until I remembered to tickle him. He always hated that.

"Hey! No fair."

I broke away and tried to swim, but he caught my leg and started to pull me back. So I went for him. We wrestled and fooled around like we were kids again. Randall dunked me good a couple times, and I splashed water in his face, which he hated, and we wrestled some more.

Then we floated on our backs and rested. The water didn't feel cold now; it felt great. Above us, the stars were bright.

"Let's dry off," Randall suggested. The air felt chilly on my skin, and I wished I had a towel. Randall drank again and offered me more, but I'd had enough.

"I got somethin' to say to you," Randall told me after another Lucky Strike. "If anything happens to me—"

"Don't!"

"Just listen, okay? If somethin' happens to me, Pop and Ma are gonna need you."

"To do what?"

Randall lighted a match and watched it burn. "To be the kind of son they always wanted."

"
You're
the son they want, not me. Pop's proud of you."

"You think so? After I run off and enlisted?"

"You'd have been drafted anyway."

"I know, but I was desperate to get away. Away from Pop. All we ever done is fight."

"And now he won't leave me alone."

"Since I been gone, I've figured somethin' out. Pop
needs
someone to fight, but it ain't really you or me he's mad at. It's white folks, but they're too strong for him. So he takes it out on us."

"It's not fair!"

"Don't I know it! Wish I had the answer. But Pop's been mad at the world his whole life."

"How long's he gonna hold it against me for working at the Dixie Belle?"

"Who knows? Don't take this the wrong way, Caleb, but I'm kinda glad he picks on you instead of Ma. She puts up with enough even without that."

"I don't know what to do."

"You could quit the restaurant and come back and work with him. That might help."

"And let him win? Uh-uh!"

Randall put his hand on my shoulder. "Pop needs you."

"Like hell! He doesn't need anyone unless it's someone to bully."

"That ain't true and you know it. If somethin' happens to me, he'll need you and Ma real bad."

I turned away. "Stop talking that way! Nothing is gonna happen to you. It can't."

"I used to think that, too. But then they had us write our wills in camp. Somehow, that made it real. Look at me, Caleb."

I turned around and faced him.

"I could be killed, and we got to accept it. It's hard for the folks to think about it, so you're the lucky one."

"Gee, thanks."

"Sorry, man. But I'm glad I got you to hear me out."

That made me feel good, even though I hated this conversation.

"So think about coming back and working with Pop."

"Maybe, if he starts treating me right."

Randall touched my shoulder again. "Promise me you'll think about it."

"All right."

"Fair enough. You want some more to drink?"

Now I did, and we passed the bottle.

"Get up," Randall told me.

We faced each other, and he put his arms around me. I held on to him, and we didn't speak, because no words were enough.

Randall let me go. "Put 'em up!" Before I could move, he slapped me lightly on the cheek. "Lemme see if you'll turn the other one." He laughed, and I did, too, and then we boxed. He landed a couple good ones on me, and I got him on the chest.

When we'd had enough, both of us panting, Randall threw his arm over my shoulder. "I love you, Caleb, and I know I can count on you, no matter what."

Of all the things Randall had ever said to me, that was the best.

W
E WERE UP
early the morning Randall had to leave. Ma was silent as she served breakfast. Afterward, Randall went to our room to get his duffle bag. I followed him and sat on my bed, trying to think of something to say, but my mind was empty.

Ma came to the door. "All packed?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She looked at the list in her hand. "Razor and shaving soap?"

"Uh-huh."

"Clean underwear, socks, toothbrush and toothpaste, sewing kit, foot powder..."

Randall laughed. "You checked it all yesterday!"