The Longest Road (47 page)

“Dub says we've got to name our first boy after him,” Johnny said and grinned. He looked so puffed up that Laurie wanted to jab him.

For once, she wished he would go, and was glad when he did. Escaping to her small room, she threw herself on the bed and wept stormily into her pillow, thankful that her sobs were muffled by the phonograph.

In the back of her mind, never quite acknowledged, hope must have lurked that Crystal would tire of Johnny or he'd get fed up with her. This sealed it, though.

Head throbbing, Laurie went to the bathroom and cupped cold water to her swollen eyes. Back in her room, starting to hang up her coat, she remembered the small wrapped object Jim had slipped in her hand as he said good-night. She'd put it in her pocket. Now, taking it out, she untied the gold cord, unwrapped the tissue, and opened a little box engraved with the name of the town's finest jeweler.

Inside was a dainty gold filigree heart on a chain. No note but it said enough. She had done nothing to encourage Jim but a stab of guilt mixed with her annoyance, regret, and yes, the pleasurable sensation of knowing she was important to a young man as enterprising as Jim. He'll get over it, she told herself, but she revised the decision she'd made right after Johnny's shattering revelation.

She wouldn't begin accepting Jim's invitations to the movies. That wouldn't be fair. She never could love him. But she wasn't going to mourn after Johnny, either. She was going to start dating.

Johnny and Crystal were married on New Year's Day, 1941. They were on their honeymoon when Marilys kept stealing worried glances at Laurie as they walked to work one morning. “Honey,” she said in a hesitant manner. “You didn't get in till after two this morning.”

“We drove to Woodward to a dance.”

“That's late hours when you have to work next morning.”

“I can manage.”

“Can you?” Marilys stepped in front of her, compelled her to stop. “Laurie, sweetheart, what are you doing? All this time you've never gone out with a man. Now, except for the evenings you play at the hotel, you're out every night till at least midnight.”

“You and Way used to worry because I didn't date,” retorted Laurie.

“This isn't dating. This is—” Marilys shook her head. Her deep blue eyes delved into Laurie's as she caught her hands. “Dear, you started this right after Johnny said he was marrying Crystal. Well, he has. Running wild can't change that.”

Flushing, Laurie started to break loose but the love and concern in Marilys's eyes melted her. Going into the older woman's arms, Laurie gave her a hug. “I haven't done anything wrong, darling! Haven't even kissed anyone but Matt Sherrod, and him only at the door.”

“Way says that Sherrod has such a hot temper that he has trouble keeping a crew together in spite of his being a top-notch driller.”

“I'm not his crew.”

“He's got a name with women.” Marilys still frowned. “Besides, he must be close to thirty.”

“Well, that should tickle Johnny. He thinks Jim is lots too young.”

“If you're doing this to make John Morrigan jealous—”

“Jealous? When he's got Crystal?”

Marilys gave up. “All right, honey. Just don't hurt yourself.” She paused, then reached for Laurie's hands. “Don't get mad but—things do happen, If you—well, if you need any help, promise you'll tell me.”

If I get pregnant, you mean
, Laurie would have flashed back angrily except for knowing that when Marilys was a girl and needed rescue, there had been none. So, as gently as she could, Laurie said, “I promise. But please, Marilys, try not to worry.” She grinned. “I hate beer, don't like the taste of anything stronger, and I choke when I try a cigarette.”

“I'm glad you do,” said Marilys, with feeling.

A tool pusher Laurie liked to dance with moved to Texas. One driller stopped asking for dates and she thought it was because she wouldn't kiss him, even on their fourth date. Jim seldom came around. When he did, he watched her with such misery that she tried to fend off guilt by getting angry. It wasn't her fault he had a crush on her. Why didn't he take out some cute fifteen-year-old and behave like the brother Laurie wished he were?

Without knowing quite how it happened, she was soon dating no one but Matt Sherrod. The driller was tall and rangy with eyes that were electrically blue in a thin, sun-browned face. His long, straight nose gave him an eagle look. They went to movies and respectable places where there was dance music. He never had more than two beers or one bourbon, always drove her straight home, always kissed her just once at the door.

That single kiss, though, was lasting longer. Matt was holding her closer, his mouth was hungry, and she felt his trembling, the sledging of his heart. One morning, when she brought Johnny's breakfast coffee, he scooted back his chair and eyed her sternly.

“Are you getting serious about Matt Sherrod?”

Good grief! If anxious parents were any worse than friends—

“Matt's fun,” she said lightly.

“Is that all?”

She felt blood mount to her face. “I can't see that it's any of your business, Johnny Morrigan.”

His jaw hardened and his eyes flashed green before he took a long swallow of coffee. When he spoke, his tone was even and controlled. “You know it's my business, Laurie. I care about you.”

Then why
, why,
didn't you wait for me? Why did you marry Crystal?
Laurie loved him in spite of that, through that, through her bitter hurt. She had to say honestly, “I like Matt, Johnny, but I don't know him very well. We don't talk much. But he doesn't—he hasn't—” She broke off, coloring even more hotly.

Johnny sighed. “Matt and I keep turning up at the same fields. When I heard he's made it clear around the oil patch that you're his girl, I dropped it in his ear real casuallike that I've known you since you were a kid, that you're sort of my little sister. Since you are, I think you'd better know something peculiar about Matt.”

Laughter bubbled to Laurie's lips. Marilys, without going into details, had recently explained to her that there were men who preferred men and women who cared only for women. “You don't mean he's a fairy?”

Now Johnny reddened. “Not hardly,” he said with a wry laugh. “Matt collects virgins.” When Laurie stared at him, Johnny went on doggedly, still crimson to the tips of his ears. “There's a name for guys like that. They can't seem to get worked up unless they're with a virgin. And once she's not, they lose interest.”

Skepticism overcoming embarrassment—after all, Johnny had started this unseemly if fascinating conversation—Laurie asked, “How does a man know that? Matt's never asked me.”

“He knows.”

“I'm sure I don't see how.” Other breakfasters came in. Going to pour them coffee, Laurie threw over her shoulder, “Thanks for the warning—I think! But I haven't seen any reason to worry.”

That wasn't quite true. Those lengthening, ardent kisses; the hard length of his body molding her closer to him when once they'd kissed good-night at arm's length. She was intrigued with Matt, flattered at his gallantries, and the lightning-flash attraction that often flowed between them at the touch of hands or eyes made her feel desirable, a woman, not a child. But even if he were jealous, Johnny wouldn't lie to her. Maybe she had better cut down on the time she spent with Matt.

Matt had bought a lot of pipe and other supplies from Way. As the salvage business grew, Way was working almost full time at that as well as holding down his pumping job. Marilys and Laurie worried about him.

“Now you've got some stock laid in, we can get by on what Marilys and I are earning,” Laurie argued.

“I don't aim to live off my womenfolk,” Way growled.

“Shucks,” laughed Marilys, kissing him. “We're aiming to live off you soon as you have the biggest salvage business in Oklahoma!”

“That's right,” Laurie said, chuckling. “Think of the deals you could make if that was all you had to tend to!”

Way rubbed his chin. “Well—It would be handy if I could go off hunting for good buys and customers.” He took his wife's hand and held it to his cheek. “You already keep the books, honey. Maybe it won't be too long till the business pays enough for you to work in it full time. Office manager. How does that sound?”

“Terrific!” The office was an ancient railroad car inhabited by a telephone, chair and table, and shelves holding small pieces of equipment. Way had given it a new coat of barn-red paint and Marilys had made curtains of harmonizing striped canvas.

“Remember, I've got a bunch of cousins we can hire as they graduate,” Laurie said. “Not to mention Buddy.”

“He's been good help after school and weekends,” Way praised. “But Laurie, that brother, of yours is headed for the oil field, at least for a while.”

If the army didn't get him first
. At the end of February, Way gave up his pumping job and plunged into the business with a zest that made him act more like he was having fun than working dawn to dusk and sometimes later.

Meanwhile, in that fearsome but distant war across the ocean, Britain's forces in North Africa wrested part of Ethiopia from the Italians. German troops overran Greece and Yugoslavia. The Lend-Lease Act of that March 1941, permitted all-out aid to Britain and other countries battling the Axis powers, Germany, Italy, and Japan. In June, Germany attacked the USSR along a front more than one thousand miles long, laid siege to Leningrad, and moved on Moscow. Hitler and his blitzkrieg seemed invincible, though at least he had given up on a quick invasion and conquest of England.

“Only a question of
when
we get into it, not
if
,” Way said. That summed up the general feeling.

The family took a big step that summer. “That nice old lady, Mrs. Barnes, who has dinner every Sunday in the hotel and lives by herself with her cats in that big house on Oak Street is going to live with her daughter in Dallas,” said Marilys. “She can't take her cats. She told me if we'd take good care of the beasties, she'd sell us the house, mostly furnished, for a thousand down and fifty a month for a total of four thousand with no interest.” She glanced from Way to Laurie, including Buddy and Everett in the sweep.

“Can we do it? Do we want to try? Even with separate rooms for each of you young folks, there's three rooms in one wing we could rent and more than cover the payments, water, gas, and electricity.”

“Married feller offered us six hundred for this trailer,” said Way. Marilys had surely already asked what he thought. “The salvage business isn't bringing us in money because I've been plowing the profits into more stock and we paid cash for that new truck.”

“I've got eighty dollars saved,” Marilys said. “I expect we could borrow the rest, using the truck and salvage business for security. But Laurie, you have money in the trailer, too. What do you say?”

“I say let's buy the house!”

A chance to have a real home with foundations laid on land that would belong to them? It was a dream Laurie had always cherished, never knowing when she would be able to let herself hope for it. To have it now seemed too good to be true. Laurie had often admired the gracious old house, built by the town's first doctor, with towered balconies and a broad veranda. She'd thought it a shame that it didn't get a coat of new white paint.

Surrounded by an ornamental wrought-iron fence, it set well back off the street, shaded by oaks and box elders. A neighbor's teenage son kept the grass mowed, but irises, daffodils, four-o'clocks, pansies, nasturtiums, zinnias, and marigolds had escaped their beds and borders, rioting as they pleased. There was a garage in back, a graceful wrought-iron gazebo, an overgrown vegetable garden, and that spring, apple and plum trees had bloomed in clouds of pink and white.

Controlling her excitement enough to be coherent, Laurie said, “I've saved almost two hundred dollars.” As well as buying such of Buddy's clothes that he wouldn't pay for out of his paper route and summer earnings—Way insisted on paying him—Laurie insisted on paying half the groceries and utilities. She and Marilys never worked out the groceries precisely, each just paying for whatever they picked up, and Everett put in three dollars a week toward groceries and expenses. Laurie turned to Buddy. “Is it all right with you to put our share of the trailer in on the house?”

“Do I get my own room?” asked Buddy.

“Take your pick,” invited Marilys.

“Then let's do it.”

“You kiddos being underage,” said Way, “I don't reckon your names can go on the deed just yet. But we'll get a lawyer to draw up a paper that'll show you as half-owners and our heirs.” He winked at Marilys. “'Course, my sweetie here is gonna outlive me so she'll need a lifetime estate.”

“You're not getting off that easy,” warned Marilys. “Why do you think I've weaned you down to two cups of coffee a day? You'll outlive me and marry some good-looking widow!” She punched his shoulder in mock outrage. He caught her hand.

“What I really hope is we can go out together or purty close to it,” he said. “But for now, let's talk to Miz Barnes and buy us a home!”

The cats meowed accusingly or plaintively for a week after their mistress tearfully stroked them good-bye. “Cats get more attached to places than to people,” Mrs. Barnes said, trying to comfort herself. “Even if my daughter wasn't allergic to cats, I imagine they'd run away. Maybe you can keep them inside till they kind of settle down.”

Laurie smiled reassuringly into the misted blue eyes. “We'll do that, ma'am. They'll miss you, but we'll take good care of them. They're absolutely beautiful. How do you keep their coats so soft and shiny?”

“I brush and comb them every day.” Mrs. Barnes glowed like a proud mother. “Winks won't keep still long so I have to do a little whenever she'll let me. And I put brewer's yeast in their food. Runcible gets hairballs sometimes so if he starts acting droopy, I give him lubricating medicine the vet prescribed and that takes care of it. Both cats are fixed. I can't abide the way most folks let their cats have poor little kittens that wind up starving or in the pound.”