Small Town Girl (28 page)

Tori climbed up off the floor and leaned over to kiss Lorena’s forehead. Yawning, she crawled into the other bed and snuggled down under the covers. “Good night, all. I’m exhausted. But if you need me, give me a shake.” She barely had all the words out before she was asleep.

“My head hurts, Kate.” Lorena shifted on her pillow.

“I know, but Aunt Hattie says it’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Will I have to go to Dr. Lyens in town and get a shot?”

“I don’t know. We’ll ask Mama in the morning.”

“Okay.” Lorena grabbed Kate’s hand and held it tight. “It’s scary getting hit by a car.”

“I thought you didn’t remember what happened,” Kate said.

Lorena wrinkled up her forehead and shut her eyes to think. After a minute she opened them and said, “I don’t, but that doesn’t keep it from being scary when I think about it.”

Mama heard Lorena as she came into the room with a glass of water. “It was scary, sweetheart. It scared us all.” She put her arm under Lorena’s shoulders and raised her head up enough to take a few sips. “But don’t you worry. One of us will be right beside you all night long to make sure you’re all right.”

Lorena looked at Mama, then Kate. “Did you see Tanner? Was he scared too?”

When Kate hesitated, Mama answered, “He was very scared. And upset. Very worried that you might be badly hurt.”

“But Aunt Hattie says I’m not.”

“Praise the Lord,” Mama said. “I’ve been sending up thank-you prayers ever since you opened your eyes in there on the couch.”

“Me too.” Kate squeezed Lorena’s hand.

Mama patted Lorena’s cheek. “Now you need to close those eyes and get some rest. One of us will be right here beside you.”

“Can I say my name first?” Lorena asked.

“Of course you can, my Lorena Birdsong.” Mama leaned over to kiss Lorena’s nose.

“My name is Lorena Birdsong.”

Kate echoed her as she lifted Lorena’s hand up to kiss the backs of her fingers. “Your name is Lorena Birdsong and you’re my little sister, now and forever.”

“And sometimes called Birdie.” Lorena looked worried
again. “Does Tanner know I’m okay? If he doesn’t, he’ll keep being scared and worried.”

Mama looked from Lorena to Kate and back to Lorena. “Maybe he saw Aunt Hattie after she left here, but in case he didn’t, Kate can go find him first thing in the morning and tell him.”

“Before he goes to work.” Lorena stared straight at Kate. “You have to tell him before he goes to work. Promise.”

“I promise, baby. I’ll go tell him before he leaves in the morning. Now shut those eyes, and Mama and I will sing you a lullaby.”

After Lorena dozed off, Kate and her mother both fell silent as they watched the little girl’s chest rise and fall. A hint of unease settled over them. Kate tried to tell herself it was simply because of their worry about Lorena, but she knew better. Her mother’s unasked questions hung heavy in the air between them.

When Kate’s father came back in the house after walking Aunt Hattie home, he came to the bedroom door but headed on to bed after Mama assured him Lorena was breathing fine. That was what Aunt Hattie had told them to watch. That and if she got sick to her stomach.

They heard him getting ready for bed, but when all was quiet again, Kate said, “I’ll watch her for a while, Mama. If I get sleepy, I’ll come and wake you.”

“I guess that makes sense. I’ll spell you in a couple of hours.” Mama stood up and looked down on Lorena, reluctant to leave. “She’s so precious to me.” She turned her eyes to Kate. “I felt as though it was my body that had been hit when I saw her lying there on the road.”

“But she’s going to be all right,” Kate said.

“Yes, yes she is. Thank God.” Mama turned away from the bed and looked directly at Kate in the dim light. The lights were off in the bedroom but some light filtered in from the
open door to the sitting room. “You should have let him come in, Kate. It was an accident. He didn’t see her.”

Kate didn’t shy away from her eyes. “He was drunk, Mama.”

“Are you sure?” her mother asked.

“I smelled it on him.”

“But he works at a feed store. Some of that feed has a different odor.” When Kate just kept looking at her without saying anything, she went on. “Even if he did have a drink . . .” She let her voice trail off.

“He was drunk,” Kate repeated. “He smelled like drunk vomit. I know what that smells like and I know what it means.”

Her mother pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. Both of them were thinking back to other nights. Nights when Kate’s father had come home after a drinking binge. Finally she said, “I suppose you do.” She stepped over to Kate and pulled her close in a hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” She stroked her hair. “So very sorry.”

Kate shut her eyes and swallowed down her tears. She refused to cry. No matter how wrong things were. She was the middle sister. She fixed things. She didn’t cry.

After a minute, her mother kissed Kate’s cheek and turned her loose. In the doorway, she stopped to say, “Somebody still needs to go tell Jay Lorena’s all right in the morning. You want me to ask your father to?”

“No,” Kate said. “I guess I do owe him that much.”

After her mother went on to her bedroom, Kate wondered if that was true or if she only wanted an excuse to see Jay one more time.
Oh dear Father in heaven
, her heart cried out.
Why did I fall in love with a drunk?
And he’d said he loved her. The words circled in her mind.
I love you, Kate Merritt
.

She grabbed the extra pillow off the bed and buried her face in it to muffle her sobs. Some things couldn’t be fixed.

J
ay parked his car in the usual spot at Graham’s. After he turned off the engine, he sat there, hardly feeling the cold as he kept hearing the thump of his bumper hitting Birdie and seeing her so still on the road. If only he’d been driving a little slower. If only he hadn’t taken Alice to her grandmother’s. If only.

That wasn’t all that was tormenting him. He could hardly bear thinking about Kate and how she had shut him away even before she’d closed the door in his face. He wanted to hold his hands over his ears to block out the awful, final sound of that door shutting him on the outside. But it would do no good. The sound ripped through his mind, destroying every hope and dream he’d let come to life about finally knowing love.

He’d been foolish. So very foolish. He knew better. That kind of love was for guys like Mike. Not guys like Jay. He’d figured that out years ago. But then he’d come to Rosey Corner. He’d been pulled into the circle of the Merritt family and felt how love could be. Birdie had loved him with a heart-rending innocence. Kate had danced with him to what he thought was music of the heart.

Music that screeched to a stop when his brakes couldn’t stop his car in time and he saw Birdie lying there in front of his
lights, not moving. Her smile gone, maybe forever. Then Kate not believing him. Worse, not even willing to listen. What had he said to her? That without trust the music stopped. Without trust they had nothing. Now he had nothing.

His thoughts kept circling around, one sorrow after another. He wanted to be angry at Kate. He wanted to be so angry that he was ready to drive back to her house, bang on her door, and make her listen. But he only felt an overpowering sadness. He’d glimpsed an echo of the same sadness in Kate’s eyes before she closed the door. The grief of saying goodbye forever.

He shifted in the car seat and smelled Alice’s vomit mixed with the sickening sweet perfume she’d been wearing. When his stomach rolled, he got out of the car and went to the pump behind the blacksmith shop. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Alice hiding in the shadows on this night. He pumped the frigid water out and let it run over his clothes. He didn’t care when ice crystals formed on his shirttail. His hands were numb, but he kept letting the water run over him, grateful that Poe didn’t wake and start barking to rouse Graham.

Graham. He pushed the pump handle down one last time, glad Mr. Merritt kept it oiled so it didn’t squeak. He headed back to his car. He couldn’t talk to Graham. Not tonight.

He didn’t have that much up in Graham’s room. A change or two of clothes. The suit. Every bit of money he had was in his pocket. Most of the stuff he’d brought with him to Rosey Corner was still in the car. A few books. A pillow and some blankets for the times he had to sleep in the car. He’d wrap up in one of those blankets and go on down the road. His clothes would dry eventually or, come morning, he’d buy something. He wouldn’t need much. The Army would issue him a uniform. He wouldn’t need clothes. He didn’t need anything.

That was what Rosey Corner had made him forget. That he didn’t need anything. Or anybody.

He was trembling from the cold by the time he got one of the blankets out of the back and wrapped it around him. It didn’t help much, with the wet clothes clinging to his skin. His hand shook so much he had a hard time pulling out the choke. The engine caught and the heater started spitting out lukewarm air. He turned the heater fan all the way up, but his teeth began chattering as he gripped the wheel and started to pull away.

That made him remember Kate’s teeth chattering when they’d talked Sunday night. It was almost impossible to believe that was only last night. The world was crashing down around him. The country was at war. He’d have to go wherever they sent him to fight. Kate was lost to him.

He couldn’t drive like this. Not with his bones feeling like they were going to shake out of his skin. He needed to find a way to warm up first. The forge in the blacksmith shop would be warm. Mr. Merritt kept the fire banked there all the time.

The shop wasn’t locked. This was Rosey Corner. Doors didn’t have to be locked. Jay stripped off his wet shirt and pants to hang on the end of the forge. Then he wrapped back up in the blanket and stared at the red coals. He thought about Kate’s father showing him how he bent the iron. How he had to heat it until it was white hot and then hit it with his shaping hammers. A wrong hit and the iron had to go back in the fire to be heated and shaped again.

A wrong hit. That’s what had happened to him this night. Everything wrong that could go wrong. Or maybe the wrong hit had been way back in September when he hadn’t headed on up to Chicago as he had intended. Instead he’d looked at Kate and let Graham talk him into staying. Now he had to go back in the fire. He supposed he would be literally going into the fire after he signed up with the Army. Maybe he’d die in the first battle. Plenty of soldiers did. Soldiers had already died. Maybe even the hayseed that he’d let sock him at Mike’s wedding.

He stared at the glowing embers until his eyes blurred. He had to go to war. He’d known that ever since Kate’s father had turned the radio on the day before. Mike would probably have to go too. Even the pimply faced kid who was in love with Kate’s little sister might end up fighting if the war went on long enough. The president’s speech had made it clear they were in for a long struggle.

But he had almost convinced himself he might be able to take Kate’s love with him. He’d offered his love to her, but she’d shut the door on it. Graham had told him to give Kate a chance to love him. Jay had never been very lucky when it came to games of chance. Graham had no way of knowing that. He was simply playing matchmaker. An odd role for the old bachelor to take on.

Up above him, Jay heard Poe doing his snuffling bark in his sleep. Graham said the old dog did that when he was dreaming about chasing raccoons. Either that or complaining about the floor being too hard. Now the old dog could have his cot back.

Jay’s pants were steaming a little and it was obvious he hadn’t washed out all of Alice’s vomit. Needed soap for that. He felt the material. Not dry, but he’d stopped shaking. He could stand to wear something a little damp, and he needed to be gone from here before Rosey Corner woke up with the sun. He was pulling on the pants when he knocked over a bucket. Above him, Graham’s bed creaked. Jay froze. If the noise woke Graham, he might come to investigate.

Jay halfway wanted him to, so he could tell him goodbye. And thanks for a good autumn. Painting Mrs. Harrelson’s house in the sun. The kindness and the wisdom. At the same time, he couldn’t bear to look on another face this night that might register disappointment. In him. Even so, Jay should tell him thank you. He fastened his pants and looked around for something to write on. He didn’t see anything, but he
remembered noticing a stub of a pencil in his car just last week.

He didn’t bother with putting on his damp shirt. He just pulled the blanket tight around him and made his way back out of the shop, taking great care not to knock over anything else. He should have brought in his flashlight. He’d picked up one that had a button he could push down a few times to give him light for five minutes or so. At the car, he pumped up the light and found the pencil. He tore the back leaf out of the book he’d been reading.
The War of the Worlds
by H. G. Wells. Kate’s father had loaned it to him last week. He hadn’t finished it, but that didn’t matter now. The light dimmed and he pumped it up again.

For a minute, he sat with the pencil poised over the paper. So much to explain. So many reasons to say thanks. But maybe it would be better to keep it simple.

Graham. Something bad happened. I hit Birdie with my car. She was hurt. Hoping not bad, but not sure. You can ask Kate about it tomorrow.

Jay stopped writing. He didn’t want to write anything else, but he owed Graham more words than that. So he put the pencil tip back on the paper and wrote the rest as fast as he could.

I gave Kate the chance you told me I should, but guess it was too late. She didn’t give me a chance back. Thanks for letting me borrow Poe’s bed for a spell, but it’s time I moved on. Got a war to win.

That would have to do. He scribbled his name, folded the paper, and walked back to the steps before he could change his mind and stuff the note in his pocket instead of leaving
it for Graham. He laid it on the bottom step with Mr. Merritt’s book on top.

Poe barked a few times before he got back around to his car, and Jay had the feeling Graham was standing at the window watching him leave. He didn’t look back to see. Once a decision was made, it was better to not look back.

He did slow down as he passed Kate’s house. The lights were off. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. He should have looked to see if the uncle’s car was in his garage. They might all be at the hospital. Birdie might be fighting for her life. All because of him. He’d have never hit her if he hadn’t swerved to miss the dog. The dog he’d taken to her to win some favor from Birdie, but Kate too. It had worked. Kate had danced in the moonlight with him. But then life had sucker punched him. He ought to be used to it by now.

For a crazy moment, he thought about stopping the car out on the road and sneaking up to the house to peer through a window. Just to see if they were there. To see if Birdie was all right. Her motionless body down on the road was in front of his eyes again. The dog whining and licking her face. Her eyes staying closed. Birdie was never still. Always running to meet him. Always ready to laugh at whatever he said.

His leg got stiff, and he almost lifted his foot up off the gas pedal. Almost. But he turned his eyes back to the road, mashed his foot down, and sped past. What if her bed was empty? Stopping wouldn’t change anything. Maybe it would be better to not know. To let the door crash closed completely on Rosey Corner. No need trying to shove it back open a crack.

By the time he got to Louisville, he was almost warm. He pulled in behind the first clothing store he saw to wait for the morning. His bones ached with weariness, so he grabbed the pillow and the other blanket out of the backseat and tried to find a comfortable position. He shut his eyes and wished
for sleep, but it did no good. The minutes dragged by, each seeming an hour long.

He began to wish he was drunk the way Kate had thought he was. So drunk that he couldn’t feel anything. So drunk that he’d be sleeping even if the car seat was hard and his neck was in a crick.

He’d never let himself get that drunk. He had downed a few from time to time, but he’d never wanted to be the guy on the floor begging somebody to pour another drink in his mouth. He wanted to know what was happening. To be sober and ready for whatever might be coming down the road. But he’d been sober tonight and what good had it done him? Done Birdie? So why not reach for the oblivion of alcohol?

That was no real answer. He could almost hear Mike’s preacher voice telling him that. And then telling him to look for answers with the Lord. Maybe he should. Maybe he should be reaching his hand up toward heaven. A man going to war where he was only a bullet or a piece of shrapnel away from meeting his Maker.

He shut his eyes and tried to think of a prayer, but nothing was there but Kate. Kate staring at him, telling him he was drunk. Telling him to go away. Saying goodbye. What had she told him the night before? Perfect love knows no fear. Or something like that. What about anger? Did it know anger?

At last the gray light of dawn began to creep into the car with him. Out in front of the store, traffic picked up as people headed for work. Jay got out of the car and pulled on his wrinkled shirt. His ice bath the night before had done little good. The shirt was still streaked and smelly. Anybody seeing him would probably agree with Kate and think he’d been on a drinking binge. He blew out a tired breath. He didn’t care what anybody thought. At least nobody he hadn’t left behind in Rosey Corner.

The sky was overcast and the air was frigid. It seemed right
that the sun was hiding. He hoped it wouldn’t start snowing. He couldn’t bear snowflakes falling down around him this morning. They’d pull up too many memories. Memories he was going to have to put behind him.

The storekeeper gave Jay a hard look when he arrived to open up, but when Jay explained he was looking to buy something new before he went to sign up for the Army, the man’s frown faded away.

“Well, come on in and we’ll get you fixed right up.” The round little man led the way in through the back door of the store, where he yanked his fingers free of his gloves, shrugged off his overcoat, and took off the brown felt hat. He smoothed down his gray streaked hair before he unhooked a tape measure from a nail beside the coatrack and draped it around his neck. Its metal ends bounced against his knees as he made his way around boxes in the back room to plug in a hot plate.

“How about a little tea? If you’re a coffee drinker, I must apologize since I don’t keep coffee in the place.” His eyes narrowed on Jay again. “Or perhaps you’re wishing for something a wee bit stronger.”

“I’m not a drunk,” Jay said. “Even if I look like it.”