The Longest Road (48 page)

Both cats were black as ravens, except for a small white fluff on Runcible's front. He had a long, sinuous tail and golden eyes. Winks looked part Manx with a sleek, small head and lynxlike raised hindquarters. Her stub tail could twitch every bit as eloquently as Runcible's appendage. Since Runcible hissed at her attempted groomings, Winks's thwarted motherly instincts were lavished by her tiny rough tongue on any convenient human hand.

On her first night in her airy new room on the second floor, Laurie woke to a sudden pressure on the mattress. Something nestled at the back of her legs. There was a muffled thud and another body curled against her feet.

In her longing for a pet, she'd always wanted a dog, but soon she wouldn't have traded. Like the cat in Kipling's
Just So Stories
, Runcible and Winks walked by their wild lones, but when she was in the house or yard, they were usually
there
, observing. It was companionship that neither made demands nor accepted any.

Mrs. Barnes and her lawyer husband, dead ten years ago, had raised five children in the big house. After her daughters and son had collected the family antiques and sentimental treasures they wanted, the house still had enough furniture, not only for the Field-Kirkendall part, but once assorted bureaus, beds, chairs, and stands were cleaned of their shrouds of dust and brought down from the attic, for the three east wing bedrooms as well. Two drillers and a tool pusher were so eager to rent them that they helped move in the reclaimed furnishings. They would share the bathroom added on to the small side veranda where they had their own entrance, so the family would scarcely know they were there.

In the attic, Laurie found a graceful wicker bedstead and chest. She painted them ivory to go with the claw-footed gilt-trimmed dresser and what Marilys called an armoire. It was the first time she'd ever had a large private mirror, and now she had two, the one on the armoire almost full-length. Two big windows and a french door opened to the balcony. The age-yellowed net curtains shredded when she washed them. She made new ones of filmy heaven blue, and searched stores till she found the exact same shade in an oval rug to put by the bed with its freshly laundered dust ruffle under the bird quilt. The phonograph was in the big living room where Marilys could play it, too, but Laurie's books were in the shelf next to the bed, and Mama's cedar chest and New Testament were on the dresser. Laurie thought it the most perfect room any girl could have, and the house the most wonderful house with its stairways, hidey-holes, and spaciousness.

“I can't really believe this place belongs to us,” she confessed to Marilys, and added hastily, “or will, as soon as the rent pays it out.”

“I can't believe it, either.” Marilys returned Laurie's hug and smiled her dimpled smile. “I bet we'll believe it, though, by the time we get through scraping off the old paint and putting on some new! All those curved posts and casement windows and porches! And when we get through with the outside, I'd sure like to paper inside.”

“We can paper a room at a time,” Laurie said. “Stop for a while when we get tired. It'll be fun.”

To her, and, she suspected, to Marilys and Way, it was a joy to work on their home, have a home to work on. If only Mama and Daddy could have had anything half as nice! That regret was the only one to taint Laurie's delight except for knowing that she'd never share this house—or any other—with Johnny. Could she have been with him, she'd gladly trade for a boom-town tent.

25

She was playing the guitar at the hotel one Friday night in August when Johnny came in, face begrimed, still in stained work clothes. Speaking under the applause, he said hoarsely, “Can you come over to the hospital, Laurie? Jim Halsell's hurt.”

At the piano, Marilys had heard. Rising, she asked the question Laurie couldn't choke out. “What's wrong?”

“Gas forced a nitro charge back up the hole. I yelled that it was coming in time for everyone to run before the derrick blew up, but Jim's leg got pinned under a length of girder.” Johnny wiped at his sweating forehead. “Jim'll live, but he may lose the leg.”

“Go on, Laurie.” Marilys gave her a gentle shove. “I'll play till closing time and then come by.”

“Jim doesn't want us to call his mother,” Johnny said, as he whipped the truck through alleys and side streets to get to the hospital faster. “Says he'll talk to her himself when he knows about the leg. He's one gutsy kid. I wish—” Johnny slapped the wheel as he pulled into the parking lot and stopped.

Laurie jumped out in the same instant. Johnny caught her arm. “Don't run. It won't make him feel better for you to rush in like he's dying.”

“Did—did he ask for me?”

“He won't ask for anyone or anything. But Pete's sake, Laurie, anyone with half an eye can see he worships the ground you walk on.”

“That's because of Daddy.”

Johnny's long strides were almost noiseless on the tiled hall floor. “Nope.” He steered her around a corner. “It's because of Laurie.” He paused outside a half-shut door. “Right now you can help him more than anyone.”

As they stepped in, a nurse was removing a hypodermic needle from Jim's arm. Clear fluid from a bottle suspended from a movable rack trickled through tubing to the inside joint of his arm where it was taped in place. Under the sheet, Jim's right leg seemed to be propped up on pillows.

“Dr. Mitchell's going to operate just as soon as he's through with a car-wreck emergency,” the nurse said. “You can stay with Jim till then but don't let him talk much.” She disappeared with a swish of starched white skirts.

“Jim?” Not knowing what to say, Laurie took his brown hand, was shocked. How cold it felt, how nerveless! She closed her other hand around it, hoping to warm the lax fingers.

His eyes opened. Dilated pupils almost blotted out the brownish-green of the irises. His hand tightened. “Laurie. Guess I must have tripped—Stupid. All this trouble—”

“You didn't trip, Jim.” Johnny's voice was gruff. “The end of that damned girder got you.”

Jim's pupils contracted slightly as they shifted to Johnny. “Am I going to lose my leg, Mr. Morrigan?”

Muscles tightened between Johnny's cheekbones and jaws. “Jim, the doc won't know for sure till he operates. He'll save it if he can, I promise that.”

Jim's pale lips went even whiter. “If he can't, tell him not to worry about the bleeding. I'd sooner die.”

“I never took you for a quitter, Jim.”

“I'm not! But I sure won't be a burden on other folks the rest of my life.” He groaned. “There's goin' to be the hospital bill and the doctor! I'm a month ahead on the money I send Mom and Bernice worked this summer stocking shelves in a grocery store, so maybe they can manage till I get back to work. But if I can't work—”

“You can work.” Johnny took Jim's other hand, careful not to disturb the intravenous tube. “Hell's bells, kid, you'll have a job as long as I do!”

“Huh! What use would I be with one leg?”

“You can still mix soup. A truck can be fixed so you could drive. There's wells to check, leases to hunt, all kinds of stuff. You'd earn your check.”

Jim's face took on a bit of color. “Yeah. Guess I could do a lot of things. But I like working in the field.”

“Most likely you could. I've been thinkin' it'd be fun to unlimber my old spudder and try to make some shallow wells—sort of poor-boy 'em separate from the company, you know. Couple of men can do that, takin' their time, closin' down at night.” Johnny wasn't making this up for Jim's benefit; he sounded wistful. “There's not the big rush and rustle there is on a rotary rig. Kind of restful.”

“I sure would like that, Mr. Morrigan, even with two good legs!”

“Anyhow, you don't have to worry about a job, or the hospital and doc, either. I carry insurance on the men who work for me personal, like you do. Even pays your salary while you're laid up. When you talk to your mother, you can tell her those checks'll be along same as ever.”

“That's true? You're not making it up?”

“You wouldn't call your boss a liar, would you?” Johnny growled. “And I wish you'd quit callin' him ‘Mr. Morrigan.' I'm not all that much older than you!”

Jim's deep breath was almost a sigh. He smiled faintly. “Never meant it that way, sir.”

“
Sir?
” exploded Johnny. “Now look here, kid—”

Three nurses came in. “If you and the young lady would step out, Mr. Morrigan,” said the sweet-faced gray-haired one.

Laurie pressed Jim's hand to her face and kissed it. “We'll be waiting. We'll be praying.”

They stood in the hall till Jim was wheeled up the corridor. A ragged breath escaped Johnny. “Let's get some coffee. There's a snack place next to the visitors' lounge.”

Laurie took one look at his haggard face. Always lean, he'd gotten thinner. “You're going to have something to eat,” Laurie ruled. “Let's sit where we can watch for Marilys. She'll be along pretty soon now.” As they went downstairs, Laurie asked, “Do you really have that kind of insurance on Jim?” She couldn't imagine W. S. Redwine allowing it.

“‘Ask me no questions,'” quoted Johnny with a grin. Stopping by a pay phone outside the coffee shop, he opened the shop door and shooed her inside. “Order whatever sounds good. I'll be in soon as I call Crystal and wash up a little.”

Marilys passed the window while Johnny was gone. Laurie beckoned her in and explained about Jim. “We'll just have to hope,” said Marilys, pressing Laurie's hand. “Matt Sherrod stopped by to walk you home. He said he'd see you tomorrow night.”

“We were going to see Humphrey Bogart in
The Maltese Falcon
,” Laurie said. “I'll have to phone his landlady and leave word that I can't go anywhere for a while. When I have time off, I'm coming to visit Jim.”

“Way and I'll visit him, too,” Marilys said. “Goodness, here comes Johnny. He looks like something the cat would be afraid to drag in!”

“Hi, pretty lady.” Johnny brushed a kiss on Marilys's forehead before he slid into the booth beside Laurie. He seemed too exhausted to eat at first but after a few sips of the steaming french onion soup Laurie had ordered, he devoured it all along with several rolls, slaw, and peach cobbler. When everything was cleared away except coffee, he settled back and grinned sheepishly. “I shouldn't feel better—but I do.”

“Any man feels better after fresh peach cobbler,” Marilys bantered.

Johnny glanced at his watch. “Wonder how long it'll be?”

“I'll go ask the floor nurse,” Laurie had been too nauseated to eat and the coffee had upset her stomach.

On her third trip, the nurse looked up and smiled. “Your friend's in the recovery room. He should be back in his room in a half-hour or so.”

“His leg?”

“The doctor will come in later and explain about that.” At Laurie's anguished cry, the nurse said quickly, “The young man didn't lose the leg and probably won't, but he's going to have a severe limp. It's all right if you wait in his room and see him for a few minutes. Then he needs to sleep.”

The breath Laurie gulped went so deep that she realized she must have been breathing from only the top of her lungs. “Thank you,” she managed at last, blinking back relieved tears. “I'll go tell the others.”

The three of them were waiting when Jim was wheeled in. He smiled at them groggily. “Still got my leg.”

Johnny pressed his shoulder. “You've got a job, too. Nothing to worry about except getting well. Does your mother have a telephone?”

“No, but the neighbors do and won't mind getting her.” Jim grasped Johnny's wrist. “I'll call her myself tomorrow.” The hazel eyes traveled to Laurie. “Maybe you could talk to Mom, too, so she'll believe I'm all right.”

Laurie nodded and touched his cheek. “I'll come in the morning as soon as visiting hours start. You go to sleep now and start getting well.”

“Thanks for coming—for staying. All of you—”

“Hell of a thing if we didn't!” Johnny squeezed his hand. “Sleep tight, Jim. See you tomorrow.”

“You've got work to do, sir,” protested Jim.

“Don't you worry about that. Don't worry about anything. And quit calling me sir!”

Jim's grin was weakly impish. “Yes, sir, Mr. Morrigan.” His eyelids drooped, fluttered, drooped again, fringing his cheek. The visitors went softly into the hall, where they hugged each other. Even Johnny had tears in his eyes.

Matt was waiting for Laurie when she got off work at eight o'clock the next evening. He startled her as she stepped outside, grinding a cigarette beneath his heel.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hello, Matt. Didn't Mrs. Rogers give you my message?”

“No problem.” He smiled down at her. “I'll drive you to the hospital and wait while you see young Halsell. We can still make the second show.”

His tone was pleasant but determined. He slipped his hand beneath Laurie's elbow, guiding her toward his silver-gray Cadillac, which had obviously just been washed and waxed. Laurie stopped.

“I can't go to the movie, Matt. Jim doesn't have any family here. I'm going to stay with him till visiting hours are over.”

“Isn't that overdoing it, baby doll?” His voice was still easy but in the shadows, light flickered in the depths of his eyes, so vibrantly blue in his tanned face. “It's not your fault the kid got hurt.”

How to explain the linkage that ran back to Daddy's friendship with the Halsells and his grave beneath the eucalyptus? Laurie decided not to try. She'd given Matt no reason to believe he had first claim on her time.

“I don't feel guilty, Matt. I
want
to stay with Jim, cheer him up if I can.”