Cottonwood Whispers (9 page)

“’Course she followed it up by sayin’ what an awful thing that was of her to say, and the Lord should strike her speechless for sayin’ it.” I bent to pick a nearby violet and twirled it between two fingers. “Then she followed
that
up by sayin’ that the Lord would likely forgive her, though, since she was only near enough speakin’ the truth. ‘Weren’t the Lord who gave her that face, after all,’ she told me. ‘It’s a sour disposition and a greedy heart that gave her face that sorry, crinkled-up look.’”

“There ain’t no more honest soul in the world than Miss Cleta,” Luke said, still laughing. “Lord love a woman like that. She’s got more pluck than all the women in Calloway put together.”

I straightened up tall. “I got plenty of pluck myself.”

“Oh, I know you got plenty of pluck, Miss Jessie. I’ve been on the receivin’ end of it many a time.”

“And you wouldn’t like me as much if you hadn’t been, neither,” I said coyly. “You like havin’ spats with me, and you know it.”

“Well now, I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his chin in feigned thought. “Might be life would get a bit simpler if I didn’t have to put up a fuss with you so much.”

“No sir. You like our rows. I can see it on your face. If I were just some mouse, sayin’ all ‘yes sirs’ and ‘no sirs,’ you’d be bored stiff.”

“But there ain’t no use arguin’ about whether or not I like to argue with you, is there?” he asked with a grin. “Seems
since you’re near about a lady, and you ain’t changed none, you ain’t bound to change now. Seems you’re full of pluck and sure to stay full of it.”

He turned away and picked up an old rag to wipe his hands on. “Still, though . . . ,” he murmured wryly. “Ain’t no one said I can’t put a bar of soap in that mouth of yours every now and again.”

“You just try it, Luke Talley,” I exclaimed tartly, “and I’ll have you tarred and feathered by mornin’.”

“Ain’t no feathers anywhere near here, so I can figure. I reckon I got me a good chance of gettin’ away with it. Heck, your daddy’d probably pay me money for it.”

I reached over and picked up the green paintbrush, wielding it like a weapon, but Luke grabbed my wrist before I had the chance to catch him with it. I tripped forward into him, and for one short but glorious minute we stood there, face-to-face, his hand gently gripping my arm.

I was afraid to blink in case I’d miss anything, so I stood there wide-eyed, my heart beating a mile a minute. The fleeting brilliance of that moment passed when Luke suddenly dropped my hand like it had stung him and stumbled backward, bumping into his worktable.

Neither of us knew what to say. There was a deep silence between us, and even the crickets seemed quieter than usual. I tried swallowing, but my throat was dry, and I backed up a little bit, awkwardly fumbling for my next move.

Luke was just standing there, looking toward the ground at nothing in particular, his eyes never meeting mine.

At length, I managed to speak after twice clearing my throat. “You got paint on your trousers.”

Luke seemed not to hear me for a moment; then he blinked a few times fast and bent his head down to look at his pants. “Ain’t I clumsy,” he mumbled uncomfortably. And then he took advantage of the opportunity to excuse himself from our strange meeting. “Better go scrub it off. I’ll see you later, Jessilyn.”

I watched him as he tripped over a chair and then a tree stump before managing to make it inside his house.

I knew my daddy would want me home before dark, but I still wandered home at a snail’s pace, lost in a daydream.

After all, my smile lit my way home.

Saturday seemed a day like any other day when I woke up. I looked out the window at the pink streaks that were starting to fill the sky and glanced over at Gemma still sleeping in her bed. She had tossed and turned until very late last night just as she had done many nights of late. I watched her there and felt the sadness of our strained friendship, hoping this day wouldn’t bring more pain than I already felt.

As was common for me of late, my first thoughts were of Gemma and my second thoughts of Callie. True to his word, Luke had taken me to the hospital on Thursday night, but we hadn’t had any news of Callie since. I decided to head down the road in search of some.

Old Joe Callahan was fixing Miss Cleta’s roof when I passed by, and he waved a hello to me.

“Out awfully early this morning, ain’t you, Miss Jessilyn?” he called.

“Same for you, Joe.”

“You know Miss Cleta. She’s got to have things done soon as they need doin’, and she’ll bother you till she gets her way.”

Miss Cleta came out onto the porch, letting the screen door slam to with a clang that made old Joe jump up on that roof.

“You talkin’ about me again, Joe Callahan?” she hollered.

Joe grabbed his hammer back up good and quick. “No’m, I ain’t,” he lied, before his words were drowned out by the sound of his hammering.

Miss Cleta, her hands squarely on her apron-covered hips, nodded at me with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Come on in for some banana bread, Jessilyn. Ain’t nothin’ else for a morning like this but some banana bread.”

“I don’t want to take up your time, Miss Cleta.”

“It ain’t takin’ up my time. Just the same, I have somethin’ to talk over with you.”

I wandered into the house, where it wasn’t much cooler than it had been outside, but the smell of the bread took my mind off the heat. Miss Cleta gave no indication of what she wanted to talk to me about for the first little while. She just rattled around in her kitchen, setting out plates and butter. I sat idly by, knowing full well any offers to help her would be rejected since Miss Cleta felt no guest should ever lift a finger and today I was a guest, not her household help. It wasn’t until she was settled opposite me and halfway through her first slice of bread that she murmured a single word.

“You know, Miss Jessilyn, I think you seen a lot of unpleasantness in your short life.”

I looked at her oddly and shrugged. “S’pose so, Miss Cleta. Though it seems near everyone’s gone through the same sadness. People all over the place are losin’ kin and whatnot. Can’t see as though I’m much different from the rest.”

“Well, you know God has a plan for things, don’t you? Out of things that seem bad at the time, good things can come.”

“Yes’m. I’ve seen that before.”

Miss Cleta took one long sip of her tea, then a second and then a third. I could tell she was uncomfortable and unhappy though she was talking fine and pleasant, and there was a sudden tightening of my stomach as I watched her face.

“Miss Cleta,” I said hesitantly, “you got some bad news to tell me, I’d like you to come on out and tell me. I ain’t going to feel any better findin’ bad news out from anybody else, and around these parts, I’m gonna hear about it later if I don’t hear about it now.”

She thought for a moment and looked like she was going to speak; then she thought twice and got up to put the teapot back on. But as she went to strike the match for the stove, she stopped and looked at me, and I could see her eyes were starting to wet.

“Miss Cleta?” I murmured nervously.

“Child, little Callie. She ain’t . . .”

I pushed my chair back from the table, starting to feel suffocated. “She ain’t what, Miss Cleta?”

“Honey . . .”

“You’re scarin’ me!”

“You know how bad she was hurt, Jessilyn.”

“But she was doin’ better, I thought.”

“No, honey. She was just the same as ever all along. The only reason she seemed better is because she didn’t seem worse. But now . . .”

“Now what?”

“She’s gone, baby. Jesus took her home late last night.”

I clutched my chair tightly, my thoughts whirling.

Miss Cleta came across the kitchen to console me, but she only laid a hand on my shoulder, making sure to give me room to figure things out on my own.

“Why would God take a little girl?” I asked, angry and sad at once. “She’s just a little girl!”

“Honey, it’s as I said before. God’s got His plans, and we ain’t the wiser to them. We can’t understand His ways.”

“Ain’t no doubt we can’t. ’Cause ain’t none of it makes any sense.” I got up and paced the room, feeling like nothing was right or familiar. I suddenly felt out of place. “Mr. Poe,” I remembered suddenly. “What’ll they do to Mr. Poe? They’ll string him up for sure.”

Miss Cleta said nothing, and I could tell by her silence that she felt the same as I did.

We stood there across from each other in Miss Cleta’s kitchen, faced off over the seeming unfairness of life. I crossed my arms defiantly and shook my head.

“Honey,” Miss Cleta said, “you got to believe God’s got His reasons, and His reasons are always right.”

“It ain’t right! No’m, it ain’t right!”

Miss Cleta tried to console me, but I backed away. “I’ve got to go,” I mumbled.

“Where you goin’, honey? You want Joe to give you a ride home?”

“No, ma’am. I just got to go somewhere . . . somewhere else.”

Miss Cleta followed me to the door. She let me go without another word, but when I turned down the road away from my house, I heard her say, “Joe, you get on over to the Lassiters’ and tell them where Jessilyn’s headin’.”

But I didn’t want anyone to find me. I just wanted to be alone. I hurried along the road until I was out of sight and then slipped off into the woods.

I stumbled mindlessly over stumps and fallen tree branches until I reached Squalers Pond. I dropped to the ground and stared into the water, watching the reflection of the clouds, without any thought toward time. It didn’t matter to me that Momma and Daddy might worry or that I’d be bitten to pieces by mosquitoes. All I knew was I was mourning the loss of life as it had been as much as I was mourning the loss of Callie.

I’d spent many moments by this pond with her, watching her toss stones into the water in search of a good splash. The memory of her laughter echoed in my head as I mindlessly fingered a rock beside me, closing my hand around it. The thought struck me that Callie would never sit by this pond with me again, and I squeezed the rock hard, hoping the
pain from its jagged edges would cut the pain in my heart. But it didn’t numb it one bit.

I was oblivious to anything else around me until a long shadow fell over me. I looked back to see Luke standing behind me.

“Jessilyn,” he said, “your momma and daddy are mighty worried about you. You all right?”

I hadn’t cried a tear that whole time by the pond, but now I could feel them behind my eyes, determined to come out. It was all I could do to say two simple words in a broken whisper: “Callie’s gone.”

Luke gently pulled me to him and my sobs came in short gasps. “I know, Jessie. And I’m sure sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sure sorry.”

I let myself cry for a couple minutes more before pushing away from him. I looked into his face desperately. “They got Mr. Poe for hittin’ her, Luke. They’ll kill him now.”

Luke’s jaw tightened, and I could see in his eyes he knew I was right. “Did you hear any news? Anyone done anythin’ to Mr. Poe?”

“No, but they will. You know it.”

He took me by the arm, his touch kind and gentle despite his angry posture, and we traveled the short distance home without saying a word. When we rounded the corner to home, I saw Daddy leaning on a fence post mopping his face with a handkerchief. The minute he saw us, he straightened up tall and approached us with rapid steps.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asked after one look at my face. “We been lookin’ everywhere for you.”

I ran to him, and though he was hot and sweaty, I let him take me in his arms. “We have to help Mr. Poe, Daddy. He ain’t got no one else.”

“Think we might have some trouble brewin’ in town,” Luke said. “Mr. Poe ain’t likely to get a fair trial now.”

Daddy let me go and gave me a soft push toward the house. “Jessilyn, you run on in and tell your momma you’re back. She’s been sittin’ by the phone hopin’ for someone to call about you.”

I wandered off, but I slowed my pace to hear what they might be saying with me gone.

“Ain’t no good to come from things like this,” Luke told my daddy. “Mr. Poe ain’t got a bad bone in his body, and this town’s bound to treat him no better’n an animal now.”

I stopped at the porch steps to glance behind me, and I saw Daddy shake his head wearily. “I’ll go fetch my rifle.”

Daddy mounted the steps past me, but I turned again to look at Luke. He had pulled his pistol from his waistband and was checking to make sure it was loaded. A chill went down my spine as I watched him there, weapon in hand. I pictured him being threatened by other men with guns, angry men wanting nothing more than to exact vengeance, and my heart began to beat fast and hard so that I could feel it in my throat. I stood there for a minute before I found my feet and ran down the steps toward him.

“Luke,” I called out. “Luke!”

He quickly replaced his pistol and looked at me with worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong, Jessie? You all right?”

“I’m okay,” I stammered breathlessly. “It’s just . . . I wanted to say . . . I want you to be careful, is all.”

He smiled halfway. “I’m always careful, Jessilyn. Your daddy and I are just goin’ into town to check on Mr. Poe. We ain’t really expectin’ a fight or nothin’. We’re just bein’ prepared.”

“Luke,” I said with a shake of my head, “I ain’t no baby no more. Lyin’ to me don’t make no sense. I know people, and I know what they can do when they’re blind angry. Ain’t no use tryin’ to convince me that there ain’t gonna be no trouble. I know better.”

Luke pushed his hat back on his head and looked into my eyes. “I reckon you’re right at that, Miss Jessilyn,” he said, his voice soft but certain. “You ain’t no baby no more, sure enough.”

“’Bout time you realized that.”

“Well then . . . ,” he wondered aloud. “What should I say? I’m used to sayin’ things to make you feel better.”

“You can’t make me feel better all the time, Luke. Sometimes things are just bad any way you slice it. All you need to say is you’ll be careful—and mean it.”

“All right then,” he said quietly. “I’ll be careful, Jessie. So long as you don’t go followin’ behind us when we leave.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t tell me ‘huh.’ I know you, Jessilyn Lassiter. The
minute we’re outta sight, you’re gonna get it into your head to follow behind us.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmured. “Just the same, you listen to what I’m tellin’ you. I can see in your face you’re thinkin’ different than you’re sayin’.”

“Don’t you go tellin’ me what I’m thinkin’. I got me a mind of my own, and ain’t nobody gonna tell me what I’m usin’ it for. I said I ain’t thinkin’ of followin’ behind, and I ain’t.”

He raised both palms in front of himself. “Hey there, don’t get so feisty,” he said, giving me a cockeyed grin. “I’m just sayin’ . . .”

“Maybe you shouldn’t just say. Maybe you should let me make up my own mind, instead of tellin’ me what it is.”

“Every time I turn around, I find you two spattin’ about somethin’,” Daddy said as he made his way down the steps. “Jessilyn, your momma’s already fixin’ some supper for the Colbys, and she’s wantin’ you to fix up a cobbler if you’re feelin’ up to it.”

Just hearing the Colbys mentioned brought my senses back a bit, and I swallowed my frustration at Luke and nodded at Daddy. “Yes’r. I reckon puttin’ my hands to work would help me feel better.” I leaned up and planted a kiss on Daddy’s cheek. “You’ll be careful, Daddy, won’t you? I’m worried there’s trouble comin’.”

“Baby, don’t you worry none. We’ll be fine.”

I nodded without conviction and walked toward the house. Halfway up the porch steps, I stopped to look at Luke.
He was walking to the truck in that familiar loping gait of his, but the minute I turned around, he turned too, walking slowly backward as he peered at the porch. I gave him a sad, halfhearted wave, and he smiled, tipped his hat at me, and disappeared into the truck.

I wasn’t much of a praying girl, but I said a quick one for Daddy and Luke as I stood there in the heat of summer, worrying for the two men I loved most.