The Widow's Choice (6 page)

Alona got out of the car while the men opened the back of the truck and started unloading the furniture. Alona and the boys each grabbed one of the lighter boxes and took them into the house.

The front door opened into a living area that was barely large enough to contain all her furniture. A door on the far side of the living room led directly into a bedroom, and the third room straight back at the rear of the house was a combination kitchen and dining area. Alona had looked at another house in the same row, and they were identical. This one was cleaner than the other one, and at least the roof didn’t leak.

Hodges brought in a floor lamp and set it down. “I’ve already scheduled a work day for the men of the church, Alona. We’ll put some new paper on the walls, lay some new linoleum. It’ll look nice.”

“Thank you, Pastor,” she said quietly.

The boys had not seen the house before and were now making their way back into the living room after conducting a quick tour.

“Where’s the rest of the house?” Tim asked, a pleading look on his face. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“I’m afraid that’s all there is,” Alona told him, putting her hand on his shoulder. “The bathroom is out back.”

“This is a crummy place!” Zac concluded after his tour.

“Shut your mouth, Zac!” Tim said. “This is our home. Don’t be talkin’ bad about it. It’ll be fine, Mom.”

“Thank you, Tim. The pastor said the men are going to come over and paper the walls and put down some new linoleum, so that’ll help dress it up a little bit.”

Alona had the men put her things in the bedroom, and the boys would sleep on cots—two in the living room and one in the kitchen—that they could fold down and put out of the way during the day. When everything was unloaded, Alona thanked the men who had helped and the pastor.

After the men drove away with the empty truck, Alona looked around at their sparse surroundings. It took all of her strength to say cheerfully, “Well, boys, we’re going to make this place something to be proud of. You just wait and see.”

****

Later that week the sun was low in the west, and Alona was cooking supper. The boys had gone over to the playground, since the house had no yard. When a knock sounded at the door, she opened the door to a scruffy-looking man wearing faded overalls and a pair of heavy brogans. “Yes, what is it?” she asked the man.

“My name’s Alvin Scruggs. I’m yer neighbor three houses down. Just come by to welcome you an’ see if you need any help.”

“Thank you, Mr. Scruggs.”

“Oh, Alvin’s fine. What’s your name?” He wore no shirt under his overalls, and his arms were wiry and covered with thick hair. He was as sorry a specimen of a man as Alona had ever seen.

“I’m Mrs. Jennings. You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got something on the stove. It’s going to burn.” She turned and went back to the stove and took the skillet off, and when she
did, she heard the door slam. She went back into the living room to make sure he had gone and was dismayed to see that Scruggs had come inside and was grinning at her. “Like I say I just come by to offer my help. A widow woman like you needs a man.”

Alona did not want to make any enemies, but she had an instant distaste for Scruggs. “Thank you, Mr. Scruggs. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to the kitchen.”

Scruggs took a step closer and winked at her. He grinned, exposing twisted teeth stained by tobacco and snuff. “Reckon a good-lookin’ lady like you needs a man. Too bad you lost yourn, but I’ll be around.”

“I think I’ll be all right. Thanks for coming by.”

“There’s some pretty rough fellers around here, but I’ll be careful that they don’t bother you none.”

Scruggs took a step closer, and she smelled the rank odor of his body and his breath. His eyes were burning, and Alona knew exactly what was on his mind. “It’s all right. I don’t need a man. I’ve got Buddy.”

“Buddy? Who’s that?”

“Buddy!” Alona called, and at once the big collie came bounding into the room. “Buddy—guard!” At once Buddy’s hackles rose and he shot to the man, baring his teeth and growling a deep growl.

“Hey! Does that dog bite?”

“He’ll take the throat right out of you if I tell him to, Scruggs.”

“Well, that dog won’t always be here,” he said, balefully backing toward the door.

“No, but if he’s not, I always keep this.” Alona reached under a sofa cushion and pulled out her thirty-eight. “I keep this loaded. I’m not a real good shot, so my husband told me to just keep pulling the trigger until it’s empty. He said I’d hit something that way.” She lowered the gun and fired a shot ten inches from Scruggs’s foot.

“Hey, you crazy woman! You wanna kill me?”

“I don’t want to, Mr. Scruggs, but if I were you, I wouldn’t come back here. I’m very nervous, and there’s no telling what I’d do if you startled me.” She lifted the gun again, and as she did, Scruggs yelled again and then backpedaled out. He hit the screen door, making it slam open, and fell down as he backed off the stoop. Alona followed him out onto the stoop, still holding the gun. “Good-bye, Scruggs. Don’t come back.”

He got up, cursing her and shaking his fist. Buddy started for the man, but Alona called him. “Buddy, come back!” She laughed and said, “Either Buddy will be waiting for you or this thirty-eight will.”

“Say, that done my heart good, Alona.”

Alona turned to see Judy Doakes, her next-door neighbor, coming. Judy was a heavyset woman, short and built like a barrel. She had a red face and merry black eyes, and the two had become fairly close in the last few days.

“I wish you’da shot him.” Judy laughed. “He pulled the same thing on me and I guess every woman in the row.” She had a loaf of bread in one hand and a jar in another. “Here. I baked some bread, and this here’s some strawberry preserves. I want to officially welcome ya into the neighborhood.”

“Why, thanks, Judy. I smelled the bread while it was baking. Come on in and we’ll have a cup of coffee.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Judy sat down and kept up a running conversation while Alona made the coffee. “Don’t bother callin’ the owner to fix anythin’ that breaks. He takes the rent and that’s all he does. My man Jim will help you if you have any problem.”

“That’s sweet of you, Judy, but I hope I’ll be able to handle most things.”

“Good for you, then. Good for you.”

Alona set a cup of coffee on the table in front of Judy and sat down with her own.

“Well, this ain’t the best place in the world to live. My kids are rough, but they’re good-hearted. If they give you or your boys any trouble, you tell me and I’ll wallop ’em good.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

“I’d like to invite you to church tonight. We’re Pentecostal folks. I always say we’re Pennycost at any cost.” She laughed at her own wit. “It’s just a few blocks away. Take only five, ten minutes to walk there. Them meetings get plumb excitin’ sometimes.”

“I’d be glad to go with you tonight, and maybe you’d like to come to our church sometime. I’m Baptist.”

“Maybe I’ll do that, though I am pretty used to the way we do it at my church. My bunch gets kind of rambunctious.” She got up to leave, saying, “Thanks for that mighty good coffee. I’ll meet you out front at six forty-five tonight. Meanwhile, you keep that pistol handy, and I’m glad you got that big ol’ dog. If Scruggs comes back, just shoot him. Nobody’ll miss him.”

Alona walked to the door with Judy and bid her good-bye, then went back to the kitchen. She picked up the gun, which she had left on the table, and swung the cylinder out. She pulled out the empty shell. “I guess five shots would be enough if I had to use it.” She laid the gun down, then leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table. She put her head down into her hands and began to tremble. She had never had to threaten anyone in her entire life, and she was just now realizing how close she had come to shooting the awful man. “I hope I never have to do anything like that again,” she whispered.

****

Alona heard the boys come in the front door. She was standing at the kitchen stove, and their voices were filled with excitement, especially Zac’s. “Ma,” he yelled, “we’re rich!”

Alona laughed, for this was typical of Zac’s overstatements. When the boys came rushing in, she saw their eyes were glowing. “I’m glad to hear we’re rich. I hear it’s better than being poor. How did we get so rich?”

Zac could barely keep still as he told his mother the news.
“Ma, we found out that old man Jimmerson is buying bottles,” he cried. “We went collectin’ them, and we sold him a bunch of ’em. Look, we got two dollars and ninety cents.”

“Jimmerson! Why, that old man is a bootlegger!”

“I don’t care what he does with them bottles,” Zac said loudly. “It ain’t our business. We got the money and that’s what counts.”

“That’s right, Ma. We need every penny,” Tim said anxiously. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, I’m not mad, but just don’t do it again. You don’t have to now.”

“Why?” Carl asked. “We always need money.”

“Well, I was going to wait until we sat down for supper, but I guess I’ll tell you now. I got a job.”

“A job! What kind of a job, Mom?” Tim asked with apprehension.

“It’s a good job. I’ll be cooking at the Elite Café. Things are gonna be a little bit different around here.”

“How different?” Carl asked quickly.

“Well, when you boys get home from school, I won’t be here. You’ll have to take care of yourselves until I get home. Tim, you’ll be in charge. Maybe I can bring leftover food home for your supper, but it will be late.”

“Oh, Ma, I don’t want you to do work. I’d rather you be here,” Tim said.

“I know you would, Tim, but I have to do it. The money from the quarry has run out. Before long, we’ll have some extra money to buy you all some warm clothes for school,” she said, looking at their well-worn pants that were riding a little too high on their ankles. “You boys will have to help me do some of the housework.”

“I don’t mind doin’ that,” Tim said.

“I don’t either,” Carl agreed.

Alona went over and ruffled Carl’s hair. “Your daddy would be so proud of you.”

“When do you start, Mom?” Tim asked.

“I start tomorrow. Why don’t you go ahead and wash up now, because after dinner, I’m going to the Pentecostal church down the street with our neighbor Mrs. Doakes.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Change of Plans

The calendar on the high counter that separated the pharmacist from his customers had a page-a-day format. Alona read the day’s date: August 2, 1940. Staring at the calendar, she thought back over the past two years since Truman had died. She had assumed that her memories of him would fade as time passed, but that had not been the case. The truth was that as she lay in bed at night, or even while busy at work or at home, she had vivid memories of her life with Truman. She remembered another August second, three years earlier, when she had been at a ball game and had watched Truman throw his blazing fast balls, striking out thirteen batters. The drugstore faded and she could almost hear Truman’s voice as he came rushing toward her after the game, crying,
“I guess we showed ’em that time, didn’t we, sweetie!”
The memory was painful, as all such memories were, but she had learned to live with them.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. Jennings. I’ve got your prescription here.” Mr. Poch put a bottle of pills on the counter and cleared his throat. “Pretty expensive medicine. I’m only charging you my cost. Won’t make a dime out of it. Never mind the tax.”

Alona allowed none of the dismay she felt to show. The amount looked as large as Mount Olympus at the moment, but she reached into her purse and snapped open her change purse. She handed the pharmacist the correct amount. “I
appreciate your helping me out all you can, Mr. Poch. I know you’ve done it before. I wish I could pay the full price.”

“Don’t you worry about that. I just hope you won’t need to have it refilled.”

“This should take care of it. Dr. Grayson said Carl will be feeling better in no time.”

“That’s good to hear. That little guy’s one of my favorites, you know.”

“I know. I appreciate the way you’ve treated me and my boys.”

“You take care, now.”

“Thanks, and you too.” She left the drugstore and walked slowly toward the church, the hot sun beating down on her. She glanced over to see a group of sparrows fighting over a crust of bread on the edge of the street. It was quite a contest, and she shook her head. “Even birds can’t agree,” she murmured. Her thoughts were filled with doubts, and she hated that. Lately she had been struggling against doubt, and it seemed to be a continual effort to remain positive. She repeatedly went over the Scripture verse she had recently memorized:
But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:19.
All your need.
That was a good one to repeat to herself.

She turned the corner and went halfway down the next block and into the church. She glanced into the window of the sanctuary and found the pastor standing at the podium.

She opened the door and asked, “Are you practicing, Brother Charles?”

Pastor Hodges looked startled at first and then he grinned. “Well, hello, Alona. There are some folks in the congregation that say I need more practice. Maybe they’re right.” He stepped down and came toward her. “It’s good to see you. How’s Carl? Is he feeling any better?”

“Not really. But I just picked up some pills for him. Dr. Grayson says his ear infection should clear up in no time.”

“That’s good. It’s still difficult to be patient, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it certainly is. Brother Charles, do you have a few minutes?”

“For you, always. Let’s go to my office.”

The two made their way to the offices. Maylene Strawler, the pastor’s secretary, smiled brightly. “Hello, Alona. How are you today?”

“Just fine, Maylene.”

“Hold all my calls, will you, Maylene?” Hodges asked as he led Alona into his office. “Have a seat.”

She sat down, then smiled wanly. “I feel like I ought to be paying rent on this seat. I’ve been here so many times the past couple years.”