Down the Dirt Road (5 page)

     “I don’t want to talk to you.  Go away.”  Jennie’s words were firm but her voice shook.

    “You can’t ignore me forever.”

    “I can and I will.”  She turned her back on her former friend and began placing spoons and spatulas into various dishes.

      “Jennie, I’m sorry ‘bout your dad.  I really loved him.”

      Anger consumed her.  Fury turned her vision white, her hands shook as heated blood boiled through her veins.  Her eyes flashed
with anger
as she turned on her ex-best friend.

    “Don’t you
dare
say that!  Don’t you
dare
tell me you loved him!  He was
my
father!
I
love him!  You can’t take
that away from me the way
you took Michael away from me!”

     The wooden serving spoon she wielded sliced through the air like a sword.  Each time she moved her hand, Trisha
flinched as though Jenn
ie sliced through her
with
the
motion.

     “I never meant for any of this to happen.”  Trisha took a step toward Jennie, a hand reaching
out
tentatively to touch her on the arm
again
.  Jennie stepped back, a look of horror on her face.

     “Just leave, Trisha.  You are not welcome here anymore.  It took an awful lot of nerve for you to
show
up
at my father’s funeral
in the first place!  And then to come with Michael…!”

       “I’m not leaving until we talk about… what happened.”  Trisha stood firm, feet planted shoulder width apart, an ‘I mean business” expression on her face.

     “This is not the time
n
or the place, Trish
a
.  Now, just leave.”  Jennie turned her back and continued fiddling with the utensils in the drawer.  There was no way her former friend was going to see the tears in her eyes.

     “This is the perfect time and place!  You won’t
take my phone calls or answer my emails
.
  We have to talk about this.”

      “In case you forgot, my father just
died
!  What makes you think I am even turning the computer on!?  Really Trisha, not everything in this world is about you, you know!  You made a choice.  You chose to sleep with my boyfriend so obviously you weren’t all that concerned about our friendship!  Now that my father is gone, suddenly working things out with me is so important?!  Get out of here!  Go!  I have nothing more to say to you.”

    Tears streamed down Trisha’s face but Jennie didn’t care.  Her former friend turned pale, her tanned skin becoming a pasty white as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling.  And then Trisha collapsed, her head slamming into the corner of the butcher block counter top on the way
to the worn, wide planked, wood floor.

    “Trisha!”  There was no answer as her ex best friend crumpled to the floor in a graceful heap.  Even when she fainted, Trisha managed to do it with style and finesse.  If not for
the
counter top breaking her fall, she would have been as graceful as a swan and Jennie would have questioned her swooning.

    Instead, Trisha looked almost regal in her black satin tank style dress and red sandals.  Her blonde hair fanned out behind her like the feathers on a peacock.  Scarlet liquid that exactly matched the leather straps of her sandals began to run in a tiny river through the golden strands.  Jennie grasped the edge of the counter as her own knees threatened to buckle.  She had always hated the sight of blood and in that moment it was making her extremely woozy. 

   Bracing herself against the counter top, Jennie made her way to the door between the kitchen and the living room.  Pushing against the old style swinging door she called out to the guest
s
gathered in quiet mo
u
rning.

      “Help!  I need help
.  Trisha fainted and now she’s
bleeding!”  Her own knees gave way then as the room shifted sideways and everything flashed
in
a brilliant white.  Strong arms grabbed
her
just before she hit the hard wood floor.

    When she next woke, the room was dim.  She could make out the faint outline of the lamp on her nightstand. 
The familiar fragrance of lavender an
d vanilla filled her nostrils.  Her head ached. 

    How did she get in her room?

    All the memories came back in a flood.  The funeral.  Trish
a
.  The blood. 

    The blood.
  She hated the sight of blood.

    She sat up straight in her bed.  Still clad in the dress she had worn for the funeral, she
even had her flip flops on
.

   
Apparently s
he had fainted. 
She remembered that there
was an ar
gument with Trisha and then
Trisha
fell, hit her head.
She went to call for help. 

  
A light came on in the hallway outside her bedroom.  The door creaked open ever so slightly.  Momma was there, a sad smile on her face when she saw Jennie sitting up in bed.

    “You’re awake.”

     “Yes.”

     “How do you feel?”  Momma took a few steps into the room, closer to where Jennie sat.

     “OK, I guess.  How are
you
, Momma?”  Despite the dark rings under
her
eyes and the red rimmed lids, Momma seemed more fine than she had since before Daddy died.

     Momma reached out and laid a hand on her arm.  “I’m OK.  I’m gonna be OK.  I miss your daddy like crazy but I will be all right.  Elise Johnson was born a survivor.”

    The tears rushed in like a spring flood.  Jennie leaned over and grabbed her momma, hugging her tight for a long time.  Momma just patted her back and reassured her that
they were going to be fine, just fine.
.

    How could
they really be all right?
  John Marshall was the glue that had held them all together.

    Finally Jennie sat back and swiped a hand across her wet eyes.  Momma handed her a tissue which she promptly used.  When Jennie was finally calm, Momma looked her deep in the eyes.

     “Sweet pea, you wanna tell me what happened in that kitchen today?”

     “Nothing.  Trisha tried to talk to me, I told her to get out.”

     “
How did she get hurt?
”

     “I didn’t do anything!  She fainted!  Hit her head on the counter!  I had nothing to do with it!
  I am mad at her but I would
never
hurt her!
”

    Her voice rose with every word.  How could her own mother think she would do such a horrible, terrible thing?

     “Calm d
own, Jennie girl.  I am not say
ing….”
     “That’
s exactly what you are
saying, Momma!”  Jennie interrupted, pacing the bedroom floor.
   “How
could
you, Momma?  Is that what everyone else thinks?”  She stopped pacing in front of her dresser and studied her reflection
in
the mirror.  And then a horrible thought dawned on her.  She spun around and faced her mother, horror in her eyes.  “Oh my God, Momma! 
Is
that what Michael thinks?”

    “Calm down, sweet pea!  You gotta calm down!  It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks.  All that matters is what you and Trisha know.”

      Her knees buckled and she crumbled to the floor by the bed.  Dropping her head on her arms atop the patchwork quilt she let out a moan.  “Oh my God, Momma.  That’s exactly what everyone thinks!  Oh, no!  This is absolutely
terrible!  How could anyone think I would hurt my best friend?!”

    
Ex-best
friend

     She was angry at Trisha, but Jennie was
n’t
violent!  How could her friends, her family, her neighbors think that she would assault Trisha over… over… over some
boy
?  Sure her heart was broken but she didn’t wish harm on Trisha.

    
Just spontaneous combustion…

     Momma patted her back and pushed her wild, unruly curls back from her damp forehead.

    “It’s OK, sweet pea.  No one thinks you would deliberately hurt Trisha, baby girl.”

     “I
s…
Is Trisha OK, Momma?  Is she at the hospital still?”

      “Her mom called a little while ago.  They are going to keep her overnight, try to figure out why she fainted.  And keep an eye on that head injury…just to be sure.”

     Jennie dropped her head onto her arms again and studied the pattern of the patchwork quilt for a moment or two
before she spoke again.  Momma sat
by her bed
quietly
looking as sad as Jennie had ever seen her.

    Damn it, Daddy!  Why did you have to go and die?!

   
Momma stood up and smoothed the skirt of her black dress.  “Why don’t you go splash a little cold water on your face and come help me in the kitchen?  We have a lot of food to pack up and put away.”

     Jennie didn’t answer right away.
  The last place she wanted to be was in the kitchen but Momma needed her.  From now on it was just the two of them.  The
y would have to help each other-
they were all they had.  When she went to college Momma would be alone.

   
Momma would be all alone.

    When she went away to college.

  
 
How could she even think about leaving  Momma?

   Sadness enveloped her as the truth settled in firmly. 
She wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long time.  Momma needed her here, on the farm.  There was no way Elise Marshall could take care of everything on her own.  She never even went in
to the barn!  How would the cow
get milked?  And the eggs collected?  And the horses fed and
mucked?  No, Jennie couldn’t go anywhere.  Not now, not in
a year when she graduated and not next fall when college started.

     Her destiny had changed and she couldn’t do a thing about it.

    Maybe her
destiny had always been out of her control.  Maybe she was meant to spend all her days on this damned farm.  Alone and sad, for all the rest of her days.

    Well, if she was destined to die here then she might as well get started.  That food was
n’t
going
to
get itself wrapped up.

    She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and rose to her feet.  “OK, Momma.  Let’s go clean up.”
    

4.

    The heat and humidity returned in full force the day after Daddy’s funeral.  Jennie mopped at the sweat on her brow with one of Daddy’s red kerchiefs he always kept on the
work
bench in the barn.  It was as if the rains had come
and gone
to remind them that life could change in the blink of an eye.  One moment you’re nursing a broken heart, th
e next your heart is being ripped from your chest as you mourn the loss of your father
and the moment after that there are still chores to do and animals to feed
.

  
One of the horses whinnied and the other neighed in response.  From somewhere beyond the walls of the barn a rooster crowed.  Even at the crack of dawn it was ridiculously hot.
  Jennie cursed softly under her breath.
  This had to be the most miserable summer ever. 

   The cow
needed milking.  She grabbed the old metal milking bucket and headed
out to the corral where the cow
grazed.  There was nothing so sweet as fresh cow’s milk, chilled almost to freezing, still frothy with cream.  From the time she was a toddler, Daddy had always let her help him milk the cows.  Old Bessie was her first friend.  Her big brown eyes even now looked sad, as though she knew
Daddy wouldn’t be coming out to see her anymore.  Jennie rubbed the side of Bessie’s head and patted her on the flank.  “I miss him too, girl.”