“What kind of cake did you make for tonight, Sis?” Joe asked.
“Spice cake, and you stay out of it.”
As soon as supper was over, the family scattered. Jill and Julie hurriedly cleared the table and washed the dishes. The neighbor women were sure to come into the house and Julie wanted the kitchen to be tidy. Her father came out of the bedroom wearing a clean shirt and a clean pair of overalls.
“You going to town?” Julie asked when he went to the wash dish and dampened his hair.
“Naw. Got splattered up with manure today.”
She glanced at him. He was carefully parting his hair down the middle. It wasn’t like him to take such pains with his appearance and especially for a ball game. Julie wondered what her father was up to.
“Jason, tie up Sidney or put him in the barn.”
“Ah, Papa. Sidney won’t hurt nothin’. He likes to chase balls.”
“Mind what I said, son,” Jethro cautioned sternly.
Julie emptied the dishwater and hung the pan on the porch. When she returned to the kitchen, her father had gone out to the front of the house and, with Jack’s help, was placing an old wooden door on the sawhorses to serve as a picnic table. Every family would bring a dessert of some kind to eat after the ball game. There would be coffee for the grown-ups and milk for the children.
Clem and Pete Birch had adjoining farms and, with their families, arrived in one wagon. The women and children were sitting on bales of hay in the wagon bed. They were a lively, happy bunch. Between the two brothers they had six boys, three girls and both wives were expecting. After they piled out of the wagon, Clem unhitched the team and led them to the grass that grew alongside the lane. Pete was short and husky, Clem tall and thin.
Farley and Helen Jacobs had a girl and two boys. Ruby Jacobs was Jill’s best friend. The two giggling girls vanished into the house.
Joy was anxiously waiting for the Taylors. Besides their two sons, Roy and Thad, they had three girls. Their little Sylvia was Joy’s age. When they arrived the little girls paired off and went looking for mischief.
Ruth and Wilbur Humphrey were the last to arrive. They had five boys and two girls, ranging in age from seventeen to two years old; their twelve-year-old twins, This and That, had bright red hair and faces full of freckles. Their real names, Thomas and Thayer, were known to only a few people outside the family.
Ruth Humphrey, with her two-year-old on her hip, carried a dish wrapped in a tea towel to the picnic table, then came to the porch where Julie sat with the other women. A woman somewhere in her thirties and a girl about six or seven years old were with her.
“Hello, everyone. I want you to meet my sister-in-law, Birdie Stuart. She and Elsie have come to stay with us … for a while.”
Julie got to her feet and extended her hand. “Glad to meet you. Come on up and sit down. When the game starts we can take some quilts and sit on the grass. Hello, Elsie.”
The shy child bobbed her head but didn’t speak.
The Humphrey girls yelled, “Come on, Elsie. Let’s play on the sack swing.”
The child shook her head and moved close to her mother. Birdie Stuart was a woman with hazel eyes and thick blond hair cut in a stylish bob. She had a lovely light peaches-and-cream complexion and full rounded breasts. She seated herself carefully on the edge of the porch after dusting it off with her handkerchief.
“Do you enjoy baseball, Mrs. Stuart?” Julie asked, trying to make the woman feel a part of the group.
“I don’t know. I’ve never watched a real game.” She spoke with a soft southern accent.
Julie laughed. “This is far from a real game. There’s plenty of horseplay, and at times the rules are stretched a bit.”
“Well, glory be,” Grace Birch exclaimed. “Here comes Evan Johnson. What’s a
Johnson
doing here? You never see him out anywhere, not even at church.”
“The boys invited him to come play ball.” Julie tried to keep the irritation out of her voice.
“Oh, well, of course. Guess you can invite anybody you want to your place.”
“He came to eat some more of Birdie’s custard pie or I miss my guess. Howard took him one for fixing our bailer.” Ruth winked at Julie, making her wonder if Ruth was trying to make a match between her sister-in-law and Evan. Birdie Stuart must have been five or six years older than Evan, but Julie guessed that it wouldn’t make all that much difference if they took to each other.
“He’s not much on visitin’. Leastways that’s what Pete says. He met him on the road and all he said was howdy.” Iona Birch, standing at the end of the porch, placed her hand on the small of her back and stretched.
“Come up here and sit in the swing, Iona, and rest your back.” Ruth Humphrey set her small son on his feet. “When are you due?”
“I figure in about six weeks. I’ll be big as a barrel by then. The marshal was out at the Johnsons’ today,” Iona announced after she had settled into the swing. “I wonder what that nasty old man’s been up to now.”
“I know what it was,” Helen Jacobs said. “He’s been hanging around outside at the revival meetings, drinking, talking loud and nasty. My, my. I don’t know how he’s lived as long as he has. Twenty years ago, he’d have been lynched for pulling some of the stunts he’s pulled. Folks now put up with most anything.”
“Has anyone ever found out why Evan came back?” Ruth asked.
At the mention of his name, Julie’s eyes turned to where Evan was playing catch with Joe. Most of the men were wearing overalls. Evan wore khaki-colored britches and a blue-and-white- striped shirt. He impressed Julie as an alert man who had a purpose for everything he did. Had he come to the ball game because he thought Birdie Stuart would be here with the Humphreys?
“A lot of gossip is goin’ around. Some think he lost the money his grandpa left him and he had to come back. I don’t think that for a minute. Amos Wood is falling all over him. There’s got to be money involved for Amos to give a Johnson the time of day.” This came from Helen Jacobs.
“The farm was Evan’s mother’s. It appears that she left it to Walter ’cause he’s still there. Why in heaven’s name would she do that? Mrs. Yerby said Evan was thrown out of the army for something he did in France.” Grace closed her mouth with a snap, signifying her disapproval of the man.
“How would she know that?” Ruth Humphrey asked.
“Mrs. Yerby knows everybody’s business in town. Ask her anything and she’ll give you an answer.”
“Looks like they are finally going to get down to business and choose up sides.” Julie thought it was time to change the subject.
Jethro came from the side of the house. “I’ll carry out chairs if you ladies want to watch the game.”
“I’ll take them, Papa,” Julie said.
“I can do it. You bring a quilt, Sis.”
Jethro picked up a chair in each hand and carried them out to the shade of the oak tree. He returned quickly and picked up two more. By then the women had come down off the porch. He walked alongside Birdie Stuart and her little girl. Julie couldn’t hear what he said, but he was smiling first at the woman and then at the child.
Glory be
! Her papa was flirting with Birdie Stuart. She was the reason he had put on a clean shirt and overalls.
Julie was a little taken aback by the discovery. Her father had not shown the slightest interest in a woman since her mother’s death. She had assumed he never would. But she realized that he was only forty-two years old. He had been twenty and her mother eighteen when they married. Nevertheless, it shocked her to think of her father bringing another woman into the family.
Without being obvious, Julie paid close attention to Birdie. She was quiet and soft-spoken and didn’t appear to be paying more than normal attention to Jethro. Julie didn’t think that she was a woman who would take to the hard work on a farm. Her hands were soft, her nails shaped and buffed. Her clothes were of good quality, indicating she had been well provided for. Julie wondered if she would be able to dress chickens, make head-cheese, wash overalls …
Feeling a little unsettled by her discovery, Julie went to the kitchen for another chair. Iona Birch was still in the swing on the porch.
“I’ll get a cushion for the chair, Iona, if you want to come watch the game. We’ll sit in the shade.”
“I think I’ll stay here for a while. I canned beans today. The girls help, but they’re not like having a woman around. Lucky Ruth, to have Mrs. Stuart to help her.”
“Ruth said Mrs. Stuart came to live with them. Is she a widow?”
“She just appeared on their doorstep and told them that her husband had died. Wilbur hadn’t seen her in fifteen years. He didn’t know that she was married or that she’d had a child. She said that her husband had been a traveling man and they had lived in many different places. What could they do but take her in?”
“If she’s always lived in the city she may not be happy living on a farm.”
“She’s looking for a man to take care of her,” Iona said bluntly. “I mean that she and Ruth are looking. Ruth thinks Evan Johnson would be a good catch. She’s heard that he has a house in St. Joe and won’t be hanging around here for very long. I think she’s hoping that Evan or someone will marry Birdie and take her and the girl with him.”
“How does she plan to accomplish this?”
“She’s working on it. Started with the custard pie.” Iona laughed. “Just watch her.”
“Sounds to me like she’s not too happy having a sister-in-law in the house.”
“She’s got her hands full over there without having extras piled on her. From the looks of Birdie Stuart, she’s not too fond of hard work.”
“The game’s started.” Jill and Ruby May came around the corner of the house on the run. Jill threw the words back over her shoulder. “Jack’s gonna pitch.”
“Game’s started.” Joy came out of the house on the run, her friend Sylvia Taylor behind her. “Mama, the game’s started.”
Julie looked quickly at Iona Birch and saw the puzzled look on her face.
“She does that sometimes when she’s around other children who are talking about their mamas. She’s asked me where
her
mama is.”
“Poor little thing,” Iona said sadly. “It’s a good thing she has you, Julie.”
Regardless of their age, everyone who came to the neighborhood ball games played if they wanted to. The men and the older boys were wonderfully patient with the younger players and divided them between the two teams. Julie was pleased to see that Jason was on Jack’s team.
She sat on the quilt beside Myrtle Taylor and watched anxiously when it was Jason’s turn to bat. Jack was set to run for him if he hit the ball. Pete Birch pitched. Jason swung and missed the first pitch but gripped the bat with determination. When Pete threw another ball, Jason’s bat connected. The ball soared over the head of the outfielder and landed in the bushes that grew along the edge of the field. Knowing there was plenty of time for Jason to reach first base, Jack stepped aside so Jason could run.
With a victorious grin lighting his freckled face, Jason ran as fast as he could and stood proudly on first base as Evan came to bat.
“Hit a homer, Mr. Johnson,” Jason called.
On the first pitch Evan hit the ball far out into center field. Jason ran the bases. Yelling encouragement, Jack urged him on.
“Come on, Jason! Run! You’ll make it!”
When Jason crossed home plate, Jack caught him up and swung him around. The boy was so excited he failed to notice that Evan, running slowly along behind him, was forced to stop on third base.
“Did ya see that, Joe?” Jason yelled. “I made a score.” When his excitement cooled down, he ran down the sideline to where Evan stood on third. “That was a whopper of a hit, Mr. Johnson.”
“You didn’t do too bad yourself.”
“Mr. Taylor’s comin’ up to bat. He’s a good hitter. We’ll be ahead if you can get to home base.”
“Then you’d better hang around and tell me when to go.”
“You bet.”
Julie’s heart swelled with joy for her little brother, who tried so hard to be like other boys in spite of his crippled foot. He had been only six years old when their mother died. Not much more than a child herself, Julie had tried to fill the void.