Down the Dirt Road (13 page)

      “Nothing.”  She replied hurriedly.  “I just have to go is all.  I don’t like leavin’ Momma home by herself for too long.”

      Grayson followed her eyes toward the couple standing across the street from them.  “Oh.”

      “I’m sorry.  I really do have go.  Thanks for the company and sorry ‘bout lunch.”  Jennie was already
halfway to the parking lot where she had parked Momma’s car that morning.  She tried very hard to convince herself that the disappointment in Grayson Jennings eyes was because she had wasted a perfectly good desert and had nothing to do with her blowing him off
.

     By the time she reached her car, she was practically hyperventilating.  The vision of Michael and Trisha all happy and wrapped up in each other wouldn’t leave her mind.  She leaned her head against the steering wheel and will
ed
her heart to slow its tumultuous rhythm. Her hands shook as she tried to plug the key into the ignition.

    The price she paid for thinking it was OK to be happy for a little bit.

   Poor Grayson, she had left him sitting there alone and probably feeling really foolish.  Well, maybe it was for the best anyway. 

 
She was a waste of his time, emotionally unavailable. 
 

 
Damaged goods.

Besides, men were trouble.  How did she know Grayson Jennings wasn’t a dog like Michael?  Best to just concentrate on taking care of things at home.  After she
went to her interview on Tuesday, her days and her nights would be full anyway.  There wouldn’t be anytime to spend with good looking wanna be cops with crooked smiles.

     By the time she turned onto the rutted, dirt road that led to her home, she had talked herself down from everything except the deep sadness that still lingered over seeing her
former
best friend and her first love together. 

11.

    The rest of the weekend was uneventful.  Jennie busied herself around the yard, weeding the vegetable garden, picking berries and taking care of the animals.  The emptiness in the barn where Bessie had once spent her time made her sad but she pushed all her active emotions to somewhere deep within her gut.

    She only saw Momma once as they passed in the hallway Sunday evening.  Jennie was on her way to the kitchen to make dinner, Momma was on her way back from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and a box of crackers.

    At least she was eating something.

    Unlike Jennie who was still thinking about the lunch she walked out on at th
e Labor Day festival.  Grayson was so easy to be with, she felt so relaxed for the short time that they spent together.  But right now she had to focus on taking care of business.  She had promised her father she would take care of Momma and keep the farm going.

    As long as the interview went well, she could be employed by the end of the day.  Then there would be no time for Michael, Trisha or Grayson Jennings and his incredible chocolate eyes.

   For the first time all summer, there was a steady, drenching rain.  Her curls were wild and out of control as usual- on the one day she wanted to look put together she couldn’t even get them to stay in a knot at the nape of her neck.
  Finally giving up, she grabbed an umbrella and made a break for the car.
  It was time to focus on what was important.

   So why did she strain so hard to get a good luck at the faded black pick-up truck that passed her in town?  Was it because the driver had deep chocolate eyes and a smile that
could stop ships?  Of course not.  She was just being cautious, checking her mirrors, right?

    Forcing all thoughts of Grayson Jennings out of her mind, she prepared herself for her very first job interview.  By the she presented herself at the front desk, her confidence was high.  It waned a little when she found herself seated at the end of a long conference table facing three very imposing individuals but they were kind to her, first expressing their condolences over her father and then easing into the grueling list of questions about experiences, interacting with co- workers and handling situations such as racial bias and sexual discrimination.  But, after the longest two hours of her life she was offered a j
ob on the line.  Beginning the next morning at five she would be trained to make paper, just like her father had done for the better part of twenty years.

     Momma was actually sitting on the porch when Jennie pulled up in front of the house.  The sun had been working hard to make an appearance but the sky was still overcast.  Tree branches hung heavy with water over the drive, large drops splashing on the windshield as Jennie made her way
along the gravel and parked close to where her mother sat sipping sweet tea.  She was dressed in white linen pants and a baby blue top that accentuated the deep ocean blue of her eyes. 

    
Momma is dressed?  In something other than black?

    Was she expecting company?  Jennie didn’t remember anyone calling the day before.  Maybe Momma was just finally feeling better.  Then why did her hands shake so much as they lifted the glass of tea to her lips?

     A bull frog croaked loudly from somewhere in the field beyond the driveway.  The marshy land was home to many amphibians
.  As a child
,
she and Daddy would explore the marshes together, marveling at the beauty of the wildlife.  Her heart ached for those days, long gone forever.

    “Hi Momma!”  She called up to the porch.

   “Good morning, Jennie-girl. 
Where have you been so early?”

   “Interviewin’ at the paper factory.  Remember, Momma?  They called on Friday?”

“I told you Jennie,  you need to go to college.”

“And I told you, Momma, I will.  The community college is just twenty minutes away- I hear they have some great night programs.”  She had only actually heard about one program, the criminal justice tract Grayson was on but that was enough to keep her statement from being a lie, right?

    “Oh, Jennie.”  Momma sighed as she sipped her tea.

     “In case you care, I got the job.  I’ll be making money Momma, you don’t have to worry about a thing now.”

   
“Oh, there will still be plenty of worries
, sweet pea.”  There was a hint of humor in Momma’s words, something that actually pleased Jennie.  Maybe they really were going to be OK eventually.

      “I start tomorrow.  Working on the line, just like Daddy did.  I’m pretty sure they gave me some special
concessions fro being John Marshall’s daughter but it doesn’t matter.  I have a job now.”  There was no hiding the pride in her voice, even if she wanted to.

      “That’s wonderful Jennie-girl.  My baby has grown up quite a bit since…in a short amount of time.”

     A tense silence f
ell over them.  Momma was right;
it seemed a lifetime ago that Daddy had stopped to give her a
ride.
  But, mourning period or not, life went on around them and Jennie for one couldn’t spend any more time ignoring it.  Apparently neither could Momma.

    “Momma are you expecting guests?”

     “What?  Why?”

     “Well, you are awake for one.  And all dressed up fancy.”

   Momma laughed.  “All dressed fancy?  You are a funny girl, Jennie.”

     “But you are.  You have to admit the last week hasn’t been done in high fashion.  Are we getting’ company?”

     
“No.  Well, your Uncle Tommy is gonna be droppin’ by.  Says he has some papers for me from takin’ Bessie.”

 
      Uncle Tommy was dropping by?  For that Momma got out of bed and prettied up?
  Would Uncle Tommy come alone?  The thought surprised her as did the mental image of a very handsome Grayson Jennings causing a slight fluttering in her chest.

   
What was she thinking?  She had no time in her life for any sort of messiness and relationships were just…well.,
messy.  T
he broken heart she was still nurs
ing was enough mess for her right now. 

     “Well, tell Uncle Tommy I said hello.  I got some work to do out back.”  There was no sense in pressing Momma further.  Daddy was only gone a week, Uncle Tommy was more than likely a comfort to her since they had both loved the same man in some way.  Mourning was as individual as the sunrise; no two were ever alike just as no two people experienced loss the same way.
  As long as Uncle Tommy came alone, he could visit any time he liked.  Daddy would have been pleased to know that someone was able to get through to Momma.

    The crunch of gravel on the road told her Uncle Tommy was arriving so she hurried into the house to change out of the only dress she owned, the black sheath she had worn to bury Daddy.  It seemed oddly fitting to her to wear it to the interview at the company where he father once worked.  The company that had probably been the death of him in the end.

     Taking care of the animals took much less time than it had a few days ago.  She was starting to get into the swing
of things.  After picking whatever peas and tomatoes were ripe she headed out into the hayfields to see how tall they gotten.  Daddy’s only cash crop was the hay.  He quickly discovered as a young farmer that corn and wheat weren’t his thing but hay was easy and there was a market for it- farm animals had to eat.  After one very tough and bank breaking season, Daddy took the job at the paper mill and focused on subsistence farming and hay bales. 
    
The grasses were tall, almost to her waist.  Pretty soon she would have to harvest them.  Running the hay baler scared her.  All farm equipment made her uneasy, so many things could go wrong and so many horrible injuries could occur.  Two years ago, Jimmy Johnson in her algebra class lost a leg when his daddy’s
International
hit a boulder and through him from the seat. 
A chill washed over her at the thought of all the blood that must come with losing a leg.
  She would just have to find someone who knew what
they were doing to teach her to run the machine.

    Two hours after leaving Momma on the porch, Jennie headed back inside to
get dinner started and prepare for her first day of work.  Light laughter filtered in from the front
of the house, Momma’s laughter.  She tip toed to the front room and peeked through the edge of one of the chambray curtains.  Momma and Uncle Tommy were still sitting in the matching rocking chairs, drinking sweet tea and talking and laughing.  Momma looked so happy and relaxed, more happy or relaxed than she had in years. A flash of anger hit Jennie and she stomped her way out onto the porch.

    “Momma!”  She snapped just a little too sharply.  “It’s almost time for dinner.  Do you want to lie down for a bit before we eat?”
    Momma and Uncle Tommy eyed each other, a touch of humor
and something else an
infuriated Jennie couldn’t quite place.  “
Well,
Momma?”

    “Simmer down, Jennie-girl.  Uncle Tommy was just getting ready to head on out.  I’ll be into the kitchen to give you a hand in a few minutes.”  There was obvious dismissal in Elise Marshall’s voice, her tone firm and authoritative.  Jennie turned on her heel and stormed off.

  
What was
wrong
with her mother?  She was acting like a silly school girl ransacked by puppy love!

    Oh wow
!  Was that how she had
acted when she was with
Michael?
Yuck!
That was downright embarrassing!
  Of course, she was only seventeen.  Momma was a grown woman who was
supposed
to be mourning the loss of her life’s love.

   
The more she thought about Momma giggling out there on the porch with her deceased husband’s brother, the madder she got.  Had her mother no shame?  And Uncle Tommy?  He couldn’t wait a year or two before hitting on his dead brother’s wife?

   
The anger and frustration clamped down on her chest.  She had to get out of there.  She ran out the back door and around the front of the house.  Ignoring her mother’s calls, she ran down the driveway and onto the dirt road she had spent an entire lifetime passing along by bus, on foot, in Daddy’s dreadful pick up truck.

     No one had touched Daddy’s truck since the last time h
d
e drove it on the day that he died.  It sat in the driveway as a memorial to the man that owned it.  A week’s worth of dust covered the windshield.  Every time Jennie thought she might move it, park it by the barn maybe and out of the
center of the drive, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.  And so it sat, strong and bold and a constant reminder of the man that would never again drive it.