Pages of Promise (11 page)

Although Jerry had heard Bobby many times, he had never realized what a power this young man had over people when he sang or played. “I guess we didn’t waste money on those music lessons, did we?” he asked Bonnie, who squeezed his hand. He turned and saw the tears in her eyes, and when he turned back to look at his son, there was a wonder in his own eyes.

Bobby came to the end of “White Christmas,” then laughed. He suddenly kicked the piano stool back and said, “Folks, as Al Jolson used to say, ‘You ain’t heard nothin’ yet!’” He began playing some of the same songs but with a beat that most of them had never heard. It was jazz, it was partly the blues of New Orleans, and even when he played “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” it was different. He thundered the bass, his left hand carrying on a steady beat so that everyone in the room began swaying back and forth. He threw his head back, standing at the piano, sometimes his hair falling down in his face, and the powerful beat seemed to rock the old hotel.

Looking around, Amos saw that all of the help had come from the kitchen, and they were swaying and smiling with all their might. “Don’t know what that boy’s got,” he whispered to Rose, “but it’s something.”

Finally Bobby ran his hand up the keyboard and up in the air with a sensational flourish. “Merry Christmas, and God bless us, every one!”

They all got to their feet clapping and crying, “God bless us, every one!” and Jake put his arm around Stephanie and drew her close. She looked up at him, surprised. “This is some family you’ve got, sweetheart,” he said. “I’d sure like to be a part of it!”

The day after Christmas saw the Delight cleared out. Stephanie and Jake drove back to Chicago with Amos and Rose. The Los Angeles contingent included Lylah, Adam and his family, and Mona. They had all gotten the same flight out of Fort Smith. Around the old home place only Jerry, Bonnie, and the twins remained.

Logan felt concerned about Richard, who made some effort to join in the celebration, but there was a stillness in him that troubled some of the family. Logan talked to Jerry, who merely said that since Richard had come home he seemed to have no desire to do anything. Jerry was worried, Logan could tell. “I know he’s still recuperating,” Jerry said, “but he just sits around and stares at things. It’s like he’s not at home, if you know what I mean, Logan.”

Logan came over where Richard sat gazing out the window. “Well, boy, you’re not doing anything. How about lendin’ an old man some help?”

Richard turned and studied Logan, who was wearing his usual faded overalls. “Why sure, Uncle Logan. What do you need? Something worked on?”

“Nah, that old Chevy of mine is runnin’ for a change.” He pulled his straw hat off and scratched his thinning auburn hair. “What I’d like is for you to give me a hand takin’ some fixins over to them young folks that live down in the crook of the river.”

“What folks are you talking about?”

“Oh, it’s a bunch of young folks that took up land over there. I thought I told you about it. They call the place the Vine. I don’t know what that means. Anyway, they’re having quite a struggle of it. They don’t know much about farmin’, and they didn’t get enough put back for the winter, I think. There must be about twenty of ’em, and I reckon they could use some extra.”

“You gonna take some food over?”

“That’s it. I’m gettin’ all the leftovers from Merle. There was a whole turkey left, almost, and bits and pieces of another one. Anyhow, he said to come and get it. It’s them young’uns over there; I hate to think of ’em missin’ out on a Christmas dinner, even if it is a day late.”

“All right,” Richard agreed. He got up, put on his heavy fatigue jacket, and went out to the car.

Logan had hooked a two-wheel trailer to the back of the ancient vehicle. “I reckon we got enough stuff to fill that one up.”

Richard got into the car, avoiding the sharp springs that were breaking through the seat covers, and slammed the door. The old car cranked slowly, laboriously, then burst into a noisy roar, and Logan winked at him. “Hear that thing? I hope we make it back.”

Richard said little on the way to Mountain View to pick up the food, but Logan carried on a rapid-fire conversation pointing out different family homesteads and telling their histories. Richard asked with interest, “You know everybody in this county, don’t you, Uncle Logan?”

“Well, I been here, man and boy, for sixty-eight years.”

“You never left? Never wanted to go away?”

“Oh, I moved off for awhile, farmed a place for a couple years back in the twenties. But it was a poor farm. After your great-grandpa died I came back here. What would I go away to? The big city? Why would I do that, boy?”

“You may have something there.” Richard looked out at the beauty of the countryside, the snow glistening, the firs topped with the crystal whiteness, and nodded. “It’s not a bad place to be.”

Logan looked at his great-nephew, thinking,
That must’ve
been a bad thing over in Korea. A fella could get mighty sick of that.
Something’s wrong with this boy. He’s sad and that ain’t natural for
a young’un his age.

Logan stopped the Chevrolet at the Delight Hotel, and when they went inside, they found Merle had packed up all of the remains of the feast in boxes. “You gonna take this to them young people out by the river, you say?”

“Thought I might. It looks like there’s a lot of it.”

Thirty minutes later Logan was steering the car down a rutted dirt road. “Can’t get through this place in the spring,” he said. “Mire up to the hubs.” He gave his attention to steering, and they came out on a road that paralleled a winding river. “Used to swim in this when I was a boy. Caught some of the finest bass and perch you ever did see, too.” A few minutes later he said, “There she is. Them folks done pretty well fixin’ the old place up.” He pulled in next to a long frame house circled by barns out behind and various outbuildings, the roofs all covered with snow. A curl of smoke went up from the chimney, and as Logan stopped the car, he said, “Don’t have to worry about ’em bein’ home. They ain’t got nowhere to go.”

Richard got out and turned to the trailer as Logan climbed laboriously out of his side of the car. The door of the house opened, and a tall man with sleepy-looking blue-gray eyes and a shock of black hair and a black beard came out to greet them. “Hello, Mr. Stuart,” he said. His accent was not southern but was hard for Richard to place.

“Want you to meet Tom Henderson—and this is my great-nephew Richard Stuart.” As the two men shook hands, Logan said briskly, “Had a bunch of grub left from our party, Tom. Hate to waste it, so I brung it over.”

“Mighty nice of you,” Henderson nodded. He noted Richard’s jacket and said, “The Corps, I see.”

“First Division.”

Henderson studied him carefully and nodded. “You’ve seen some action then,” he said. He turned to say, “Laurel, you think we could use some turkey and fixings?”

A young woman carrying a child came into the doorway and answered, “Yes, Tom, we sure can.” She smiled at them. She wore a long calico dress, faded past all its original color, and a pair of men’s boots. Though she was small, her figure was trim, and her cheeks glowed with health. Richard looked at the child, who was staring at him owlishly. “What’s his name?” he said.

“John. I’m Laurel Jackson.”

She said no more but turned away and moved back inside.

After the groceries were unloaded, Henderson looked at the stacks of boxes in the kitchen and shook his head. “It looks like enough to feed a regiment. But we’ll make away with it quick enough. How about some hot sassafras tea?”

Logan said with an impish grin, “This here’s a California boy. He ain’t never tasted sassafras tea.”

“It’ll be a treat for you, Richard.” The woman called Laurel soon came out of the kitchen with a pot that sent steam upward. Henderson removed some cups from pegs that hung on the wall, and as Laurel poured with a steady hand, he distributed them. Handing one to Richard, he said, “Hope you like this. It’s a cultivated taste, I think.”

Richard sipped the tea and opened his eyes with surprise. “Never tasted anything like it,” he said.

“There ain’t anything like it,” Logan spoke up. Henderson smiled. “Here, you fellas have a seat.”

Logan said, “Why, sure. Like to sit and visit a while. Tell me what you’re plannin’ for crops next year.”

Richard found a cane-bottomed chair that needed some repair, but it held his weight. He moved it over toward the large wood-burning stove and soaked up the heat, listening as Logan and Tom spoke about farming. He watched people moving in and out of the room, apparently going about their business without regard to the visitors. Besides the two young men who had helped bring in the boxes, he saw several younger women and four or five children. The oldest person he saw was a grand-motherly type who came out of the kitchen from time to time and spoke to the younger women in a quiet voice.

Richard sipped his sassafras tea, and once Laurel came over and refilled his cup. “Do you like it?” she asked. Her voice was deep for a woman, especially such a small woman, and she smiled at him shyly.

“Real good,” Richard said.

“You go out and dig the roots to make the sassafras,” she said. “You’ve never done that?”

“No, I’m a city boy. Don’t know beans about farming.”

She hesitated for a moment, then asked, lowering her voice, “You in the army?”

“The marines.”

“Oh!” She thought that over, and then something passed in her eyes, and Richard could not tell what it meant. He looked down at her hand and saw no ring there, and for the rest of the visit, he watched to see if any of the young men came near her.

Logan got up and reached for his coat, which he had tossed on the floor beside the door. “Got to get goin’.”

“Thanks for the Christmas bounty,” Henderson said. He shook hands with Logan, then with Richard, saying to the latter, “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Good to meet you, Mr. Henderson.”

The three men went outside, and Henderson stood in front of the house until the Chevrolet chugged out of sight. Logan was mystified by the group. “Can’t figure out what they’re doin’ here. They’re sure not farmers, and I’m havin’ a hard time figurin’ out who’s the wife to who.”

“That woman, Laurel. I don’t think she has a husband.”

“What makes you think that?”

“No ring on her finger.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice.” Logan swerved to dodge a pitted hole in the ground and said, “Pretty thing, isn’t she?”

After a long silence, Richard said, “I didn’t notice.” He did not see the smile that touched Logan’s lips, nor could he read the thoughts of the older man.
Well, he ain’t too shell-shocked to
notice a pretty gal, and that’s good
.

Back home, Logan shut the engine off then turned to face his nephew. “I been thinkin’, Richard. How’d you like to stay on for a spell?”

Richard turned to look at him, his eyes widening with surprise. “With you, here?”

“Why, sure. You ain’t got a job to go to, do you?”

“Well, no, I don’t.”

“It appears to me like you could use a bit of peace and quiet.” Logan’s eyes sized up the young man shrewdly, and he said, “I could use some help around the place a little bit. You and me could go huntin’ over in the hills. You’re a sharpshooter—might get us a buck. I’d appreciate the company.”

Richard said, “You know, I think I might like that, for a while, anyhow.”

Logan reached over and slapped the young man’s shoulder. He saw Richard wince, for the wound had not fully healed. “Oh, I’m sorry, boy. I forgot.”

“It’s okay, Uncle Logan.”

He lifted his hand and arm and flexed the fingers, saying, “Almost well now. Are you sure I won’t be in the way?” he asked.

“Why, shoot, boy. You see how much room we got in the house, and me and Annie just ramble around that old place. Pick any room you want upstairs. Don’t even have to come down and talk when you don’t want to. I figure me and you could have a good time together.”

Richard said no more, but later that day he found his parents while they sat at the table drinking coffee. He sat down across from them and said, “I think I’d like to stay on here for a little while. Uncle Logan’s asked me to, and I think I might like it.”

“Might be a good thing,” Jerry said quickly. He had not talked with Logan about this, but the idea seemed good. He knew that Richard was tight as a spring wire, and he knew that there was nothing like the quiet of this rural farm to calm a person’s nerves.

Bonnie agreed, saying, “You know I’d rather have you at home. But it might be good for you to stay here for a couple of weeks. We’ll go on back, and when you get ready to come home, you can fly in.”

Richard nodded. “I’ll stay then. Maybe I can be of some help to Uncle Logan on the place here.” He smiled at them, seeming to relax more, and when Jerry was alone with Bonnie he said, “I think it’s a good thing. He can unwind a little bit, and when he gets over the war, he can come home.”

Stephanie had moved into an apartment with three other young women the previous spring. She felt her presence at her grandparents’ home was creating too much extra work for her grandmother. The day after she returned with her grandparents from the Christmas get-together in Arkansas, Jake arrived at the apartment unexpectedly.

“Jake! What are you doing here?” Stephanie gasped, answering the door in her bathrobe and slippers.

“I came to talk to you.”

“Now? It can’t wait until tomorrow? I’ll see you at work.”

“No. Some things can’t wait. Can I come in?” He slouched against the door frame, but there was an intensity in his eyes that confused her.

“Is it something about work?”

“Why don’t you go get dressed,” he quipped. “And put something over your head to cover up that messy hair.”

Glaring at him for a moment, Stephanie said, “Well, come on in. There’s coffee made in the kitchen. You’ll just have to wait until I change.”

When she came out a few minutes later, she found him in the tiny living room reading the paper, his feet propped on the coffee table.

He put down the paper and smiled at her, but there was tension in his face. He rose and walked over to her; something in his attitude made Stephanie stiffen. She put her hands on his chest as he reached for her and said nervously, “Now, wait a minute, Jake! What’s this all about?”