Down the Dirt Road (7 page)

   
The truck.

     She had been ignoring Daddy’s truck for almost a week.  It still sat in the drive in front of the house exactly where he had last parked it on the day he gave her a ride home.  She
resisted the urge to throw rocks at it and curse.  Its very presence reminded her that she had been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn’t even noticed that Daddy was dying.
  It couldn’t stay there.  She couldn’t walk by it each day, a constant reminded of his absence.  Maybe tomorrow she would drive it out behind the house; park it by the old tool shed in the corner of the hay field.  Yes, that was what she would do.  It would become a memorial out there, a memorial to the man that had so lovingly cared for it for so many years, believing in its solidarity and refusing to tarnish its reputation by replacing it with a shiny new one.

     “I’m still not OK with you not going to college.”  Momma called to her softly from the shadows.

    “I’ll take some courses at the community college, OK?”  She called back just as softly.

    “OK.  It’s a start.  We will talk about the rest another time.”  Momm
a
’s voice had become barely
more than
a whisper.  There
was so much sadness in her words
, it just about broke Jennie’s heart.

   
“OK, Momma.”  Nothing her mother could say would change her mind.  She knew what she had to do and going off to college wasn’t part of that plan any more.
  “I’m gonna go wash up and grab something to eat.”

     “I’ll be there in a bit, dear.  I want to sit out here with your father for a little
while
.”

     In the days since John Marshall’s death, Elise had taken to sitting on the front porch.  She claimed she felt closer to him.  John loved the outdoors, maybe it did bring the
m closer, her sitting out there like that.  Who was she
to
judge
- didn’t she spend her days in the barn with the animals
?

    The only thing she planned on judging
now
was how cool the water was in the shower
and how comfortable her bed was. 

6.

     The sun was bright and the air was already
hot
and steamy
. 
Even inside the house, everything she touched felt
moist with
the incessant
humidity. 
The cotton of her pink tee shirt was damp against her back and h
er
already wild
curls spring
ing
out in all directions. 
Jennie
had fallen asleep after her shower the night before, leaving her wet hair to fend for itself.  Now as she stood
in front of the bathroom mirror she gathered
the mass that some called hair and knotted it high on her head. 

    Of all the days to oversleep
.  It was half past seven already and she had to get the eggs and milk the cows before she could
even think about
head
ing
into town to talk to her guidance counselor.
  Momma wasn’t too happy with her decision but she knew it was the right thing to do. 
It’s what Daddy would do and she was Daddy’s
girl.

    A loud crash sounded from downstairs.  She ran to the top of the steps.

    “You OK down there Momma?”

     Momma’s voice was faint, pained; but it had been that way for days.  “I’m fine, Jennie.  Just tripped on a chair in the kitchen.  Breakfast is almost ready- you must be
half
starved since you missed dinner last night.”

    “Be down in a minute, Momma.
  I am pretty hungry.
”

    At the mention of food, her stomach jumped into a symphony of groans and growls reminding her how long it had been since her last meal. 
Working in the barn had drained her physically.  Seeing Michael had sucked her dry emotionally.  The long night’s sleep was well overdue
but so unlike her
.
  Five or six hours of uninterrupted sleep was usually more than enough but s
he hadn’t slept through the night since before Daddy died.  She felt oddly refreshed despite the miserably humid heat.  Her
stomach growled again, reminding her to get downstairs and eat something.

    
Momma was standing in front of the stove when Jennie entered the kitchen.  The smell of fresh cooked bacon welcomed her.  It had been days since anything had been cooked in the kitchen.  Mostly they just picked at sandwiches and leftovers brought to them by friends and neighbors.  There was something about a death that made people want to cook.  They had so many frozen casseroles; it would be weeks before they would have to prepare a dinner if they didn’t want to.

     It was amazing, the outpouring of love and support to her and Momma, although no amount of meals or gift cards could make up for what they had lost.

    
“That smells good, Momma.  What has you up so early today?”

    Momma sniffed the air in a dramatic show, wafting the fragrance of frying bacon from the big cast iron skillet on the old gas stove to her nose.  “That does smell good doesn’t it?  I hope you are hungry.”

    “I am absolutely starved.  But, why are you up so early?  I could have poured a bowl of cereal.”

    In the days since Daddy passed, Momma hadn’t gotten out of bed before ten or eleven in the morning, only to settle in for a nap three hours later.
  Yesterday, the day after the funer
a
l Jennie hadn’t seen her until she met her on the porch for lemonade at dusk.

     “I couldn’t sleep.  Every time I close my eyes I see your father walking through the door smiling at me.  I run to him and
he
turns around and walks away, disappearing before I can get to him.  It’s an endless cycle and no matter how long I stay in bed, it won’t end.  It’s like purgatory here on
Earth.”
  She set the tongs she used to flip the bacon down on the counter and turned to face Jennie with red rimmed eyes.  Her body trembled slightly.

    “Oh, Momma, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know.  I just thought you were tired.”

     Momma didn’t need to know she actually thought the opposite
.  Bed was a good place to hide from reality.  In a dark room, curtains closed and windows locked to the outside world, it was easy to pretend that bad things didn’t exist.

    “It’s OK sweet
pea, I don’t want you worryin’ ‘
bout me.  It’s just gonna take me some time to get through this
.”

    It pained her to see how sad her momma looked.  If only Daddy hadn’t gone to work that morning.  Or if he had just let Momma call Doc Hansen.  What if she hadn’t run into him on the road that morning?  Would she have seen her Daddy one more time before he died?  If Trisha and Michael hadn’t broken her heart, she might have been with Michael, doing something she might regret rather than spending last precious moments with her father as he
gleefully drove his old, broke down pickup over the ruts and ramps of the road.

    For a flicker of a second she thought maybe she owed Michael a big thank you for having sex with her best friend.  It kept her from making the huge mistake of losing her virginity to a lying, cheating bastard.  But more importantly, it prevented her from being cheated out of the last moments of her father’s life.  God’s will was mighty powerful when he wanted it to be.  His methods could be a bit harsh it seemed but He
sure
got results.

   
Momma turned back to the stove and began flipping the long strips of bacon again.  Grease spattered and spit out of the skillet, leaving dark spots on the wood floor in front of the
wide glass
oven
door
.  Jennie remembered when Daddy first brought that
antique
stove home.
  An old, abandoned farmhouse on the other side of town was being demolished.
  Daddy pulled it out of the pile of rubble, loaded it into the old truck and brought it home.  He spent weeks refurbishing it out in the barn and presented it to Momma as an anniversary gift.

   “Can I help you with breakfast, Momma?”

    “No,
Jennie girl, I got it.  You’ve
been
workin’ mighty hard ‘r
ound here lately, I figure the least I can do is put a hot plate in front of you this morning.  What you got planned for today?”

     “
The usual chores.  Milk the cow
, gather the eggs, feed the horses and pigs.  Headin’ into town later this morning.  Shouldn’t be gone too long, the garden needs weeding and
the last of the berries need pickin’.  Gonna be time to do some canning soon, too.”

     “What about school, Jennie?”

      “Come on, Momma, we talked about this last night.  That’s why I’m going to talk to Ms. Burch.  I have enough credits to graduate.  That means I get my diploma, g
et a job and keep things runnin’ ‘
round here.”

     “And give up college?”

     “Momma!  I told you, I will take a class or two at the community college next year.  Right now, I gotta take care of things around here.  Daddy would turn in his grave if I let you lose this place and everything he worked for.”

     “I told you Jennie.  I can hire someone to take care of things.  I don’t want you giving up your life for me.” 
Momma’s voice was as firm as she had ever heard it but that didn’t hide the slightest bit of a quake at the end of each of h
er words.  It just tightened Jennie’s
resolve to do what needed doing.  She had never thought of Momma as frail before but on this day she seemed as small as a newborn in the oversized flowered nightgown and worn slippers.  It didn’t help that the deep black circles under her tired eyes gave her a sickly appearance that Jennie had only ever seen before when her granny was sick with cancer.
  Momma placed a plate of steaming eggs and bacon on the table in front of her that she attacked with a
gusto she had never had for
food before.

     “I’m not going to discuss it with you anymore, Momma.
”  She spoke between bites, resisting the urge to moan too.  “
This is not the time to be making any decisions about money or anything.  Besides, the life insurance won’t last forever and the mortgage needs to be paid.
  I’ll be back before dinner, Momma, but don’t wait on me, there’s plenty of meals in the refrigerator to pick on.  Breakfast was good, thank you.”

      Rising from the table, she carried the plate to the sink and rinsed it quickly before dropping it into the dishwasher.  The dishwasher was the one real modern convenience that Momma had insisted up when they bought the rambling old farmhouse. 

    Her quick departure did what it was intended to do-Momma didn’t say anything else to her as she left the house and headed to the barn.  There was no way of knowing by the dry earth beneath her feet how much it had rained the day of the funeral.  Dust shimmied in the early morning sunlight, coating her damp legs in a fine orange sheen by the time she reached the barn.
 
Heat shimmered in waves levitating a few inches above the ground.

   
Old Bessie brayed quietly when she entered
the barn
.

   “I’m comin’ Old Girl.  I bet
you need a milkin’ this mornin’
, don’t you?”  She spoke quietly but the animal heard her-
if not her words, her soft tone.  S
he brayed again in response and kicked up a hoof.

   
The air inside the barn was hazy and stale with damp heat and dust.  Jennie threw open the large doors and let the sunshine pour in.
  The haze quickly burned away as she
grabbed the old milking bucket
off the rusty nail where it had hung as long as she could remember
. 

   Now that she had done
the chores
a couple of times herself, the process was getting easier.  It took le
ss than an hour to milk the cow
and gather the hen’s eggs.  After slopping the pigs, spreading the chicken, feed and laying out hay for the cows and horses, she headed to the driveway.  Pausing for just a moment to consider cleaning up a little, she decided against it.  The air was as thick as mud, she would just be covered in sweat again by the time she reached the school. 
Besides if things went the way she wanted, this would be her last visit to the small county high school
anyway
.  Who really cared how she looked- or smelled- while she was there?