The Longest Road (46 page)

“Looks like she's in a big hurry,” Jim said.

“She likes to dance.”

Jim's smile broadened appreciatively. “I'd sure like to dance with her—except I don't know how and even if I did, I'd be scared to ask.”

Laurie made a noncommittal sound. Was Jim making comparisons between her and Crystal? If he was, did he see her, Laurie, as immature and unformed as she found him beside Morrigan? Jim slanted her a quizzical glance.

“Know something, Laurie? I saved up enough this summer to ask a girl I liked out for a movie and a malt. Her dad met me on the front porch. I didn't have notions past maybe kissing her good-night if she'd let me, but he made me so nervous I didn't even try that.” He chuckled at the memory, then sobered. “That girl's daddy didn't look me over half as close as your Mr. Morrigan did. He some kind of kin?”

“No. I'll tell you about it later, Jim. Right now I have to play and sing for another hour or so. If you want to go to our place—”

“I want to hear you,” he said with a look that balmed her feelings. She knew his gaze followed her admiringly as she went to the front of the room and picked up the guitar.

All right, he wasn't a man. But he wasn't an ordinary seventeen-year-old, either, any more than she was. She hoped from the bottom of her heart, as if her own pride and worth were at stake, that he could handle any task Johnny gave him and come back for more.

24

Jim stuck. Inside of a week, he was mixing “soup,” filling torpedoes, and driving the explosives truck. He slept on the floor of the trailer till he got his first paycheck. When Marilys refused the board he tried to pay back, he bought her the biggest box of Whitman's chocolates and a huge basket of fruit and nuts. Johnny had found him some heavy laced boots and an old hat so after his board and room were paid, most of the rest of his check went to California to keep his sister in school.

Of course they invited him for Christmas dinner served mid-afternoon of the holiday, and had a green plaid shirt for him under the tree. After they sang carols and opened presents, Buddy asked, “Remember that tumbleweed we decorated in Black Spring? Boy, does that seem a long time ago!”

“Five years.” Marilys's voice was soft and her hand slipped into Way's. “It was the first happy Christmas I'd had since I was a girl but all of them since have been beautiful.”

Way smiled at her and treasured her hand between both of his. “Before that, I'd plumb lost track of Christmas, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving—holidays don't matter when you're on the tramp.”

“We always had a big tree on the farm,” said Jim. “But we never could afford it out in California. Mom always found a little branch of something green, though, off an orange tree or bush. We'd sing carols, and she'd read us the Christmas story out of her New Testament. Then we'd pop corn and a couple of times, we could afford to make taffy. When Mom and Dad weren't flat broke, they'd buy each of us kids something we needed, socks, shoes, overalls, or whatever.” He lowered his head. “We had a tree and presents after Mom got her job but it wasn't the same, not without Dad.”

They all looked back to times after which nothing could ever be the same. This was Everett's first Christmas away from home. How could he not miss Rosalie and his brothers and sisters? For Marilys, Laurie thought, those days must have been before she met Dub and set off on that long road that had only ended when they found Way chained to the jail trees. Way could be remembering his childhood and those few years he'd had a wife and baby girl.

“We're all here together, and that's wonderful.” Laurie smiled through a haze of tears, reached out to touch Jim's arm. “Some worlds end but if we hang on, another one begins.”

He turned to her, hazel eyes brilliant. “That's right.” He looked around at the others. “You've all helped me start this one.”

Way drew Marilys to her feet and kissed her on the lips. He did that without any embarrassment. “Right now, folks,” he said, “a rumblin' under my ribs allows it's time we started dinner!”

When they had feasted and the dishes were done, twilight was falling. Each Christmas, Laurie had continued to give a gift to her father and mother by helping someone in need. This year, she'd filled a Christmas card with five twenty-dollar bills saved from her earnings. In order to accumulate that much after investing in Way's salvage business, she'd forgone new clothes and skipped movies and hot-fudge sundaes. The envelope would go to the family of a roughneck who'd been crushed a few days ago.

“I'm going out for a little while,” she said, pulling oil her coat.

Jim rose immediately and helped her get her other arm into the sleeve. “It's nearly dark. I'll go with you.”

It was part of this ritual to do it alone, in secret. “Thanks, Jim, but no one will bother me.”

“Maybe not, but I'd feel better if—”

“It's nice of you, but please—I'd rather go alone.” She smiled at him, tied on a scarf, pulled on mittens, and went out.

Cold nipped her face, chilled her legs in the nylons that had come on the market last year and were swiftly replacing silk stockings because they were cheaper and wore longer. She knew the roughneck's widow lived in a shack south of the railroad tracks close to a supply yard. Her husband's friends would surely have taken up a collection to help with the funeral and expenses till she got a job or went home to her folks, but with three small children, the woman could make good use of the money in the card.

The camp for oil workers, sprawling out from the older town, was just like Sludge Town in Black Springs except in these comparatively prosperous times, there were more trailers and newer trucks and cars. Just about every window showed a brightly lit Christmas tree, and a joyful medley of carols from phonographs or radios mixed with laughter. Laurie prayed that all these people would be alive and safe next year, and that the awful war would have ended, though it seemed to be spreading, getting worse. If America had to enter the fight—

She shuddered. Surely Buddy would escape since he was not quite thirteen, but Everett and Jim and most of the men she knew would be called up unless they asked for exemptions because they worked in the oil field and oil was vital. Johnny might even volunteer, no matter what Dub and Crystal said.

Cold to the heart in spite of her warm bundling, Laurie paused at the shack. That tree must have been set up and ornamented with foil icicles, gilt ropes, and lights before the father died. Two little carrot-topped boys zoomed toy airplanes past each other. A dark-haired woman in a rocker held a girl child of perhaps three who had fallen asleep cuddling a new doll. The woman stared blindly till a whoop from one of her sons made her rouse and shush them.

Three young lives depending on her. It was a heavy load, but just as she'd held Christmas, the mother would have to keep going because of the children. She was pretty in spite of her hollow eyes. With luck, the children wouldn't grow up without a father.
Mama, Daddy—
Laurie thought,
this is for you
.

She tucked the envelope in the screen door, knocked, and ran. That was part of the gift, too, for the person not to know. Hidden by the night, she stopped to watch the woman open the door and find the envelope, whirled at a sound behind her.

Two shadows grappled. “It's all right, Laurie.” That was Johnny's voice. “I was just seein' why this fella was tagging you.”

“Mr. Morrigan!” Jim's voice thinned as if shocked back to boyhood. “Gol-lee! You like to scared me to death!” Jim gulped and swallowed. “Laurie wouldn't let me walk with her so I followed to make sure no one made her trouble.”

“You did right,” Johnny admitted, releasing the younger man. “Laurie, maybe I can guess why you didn't want someone along, but it's not real smart to be out alone after dark.”

“But—”

“Don't argue, kid. No sober man would hurt you, but when a guy's drunk, there's just no tellin'.” He linked his arm through hers. “Come on. I was headed for your place when I noticed a man keeping away from the streetlights and figured he was up to no good.”

Forlornly, Jim said, “You're not mad at me, Laurie?”

She squeezed his hand and laughed. “Of course not. You're the one who almost got clobbered. Come on back and we'll make some fudge.”

“Reckon I'd better not. My landlady said I could use her phone tonight to phone Mom and the kids. I'd better call before it gets late.”

He hadn't released her hand. He pressed it hard and suddenly, transferred from his other hand, there was something in her palm. “Thanks for a real nice Christmas, Laurie. Good night, sir.”

“Mmmf,” said Johnny, without much grace. “Better turn in early, Jim. I'll pick you up at four in the morning so we can shoot that well over by Enid.”

“I'll be out front, Mr. Morrigan.”

He moved away, vanishing in the night. “‘Mr!'” growled Johnny. “He makes me feel like I'm ninety!”

“He's just being respectful. Good grief, Johnny, why were you such a grouch? Isn't he making you a good helper?”

“He is or he wouldn't still be working for me. But anyone with one eye closed and the other half open can see that he's crazy about you.”

“We're just the closest thing he has here for family.” What right did Johnny have to fuss about her friends when he was always bringing that red-clawed platinum cat, Crystal, into the restaurant for Laurie to wait on? Voice rising, Laurie demanded, “Anyhow, if he
does
like me, what's wrong with that? He's a nice boy.”

Johnny's laugh was more of a bark. “That's the point. He's a boy. You grew up too fast, Laurie.” His voice roughened. She tripped on a hole in the sidewalk and he steadied her in immediate reflex. “You need a man grown up enough to be a kid with you sometimes but who can still take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. Along with any stray lamb who bleats around for sympathy!” His fingers tightened almost savagely on her wrist. “Damn it, Laurie, I want better than that for you!”

Startled at his intensity, she was at once gratified yet indignant at his concern.
I want a lot better than Crystal for you
. She couldn't say that. In the haughty tone she assumed with importunate men, she said, “Does that mean you don't want me to date anyone without running him by you for approval?”

Instead of squelching him, that brought a chuckle. “Not a bad idea,” he said with rueful humor. “No, to be honest, Way and Marilys can judge a man as well as I can—and I reckon you'd pay more attention to them than you will to me.” He sighed and shoved back his hair. “What worries me about young Jim is that he comes and goes like one of the family. I'm scared first thing I know, he will be.”

“He's just like a—”

“Brother,” Johnny finished. “That may be how you feel, honey, but believe me, it's not what he's thinkin'. I like Jim. He's smart, keeps a cool head, and does more than he's asked. If he was five or six years older—”

“Huh! Then you'd say he was too old and worldly!”

Johnny stiffened. Then he laughed. “I probably would. Come right down to it, Laurie, I guess I'll never think anyone's good enough for you.” His tone softened, warmed Laurie even in the chill wind. “Funny. We only knew each other a day but all those years, I kept remembering you—hoped your Daddy had found a good job and sent for you, wondered if you played that harmonica. I've met hundreds of people since then but you're the one who stayed in my mind.”

“Maybe that's because you were in my mind.” Laurie's mouth felt dry. This was probably as close as she could ever come to telling him how she felt. “I don't know what I'd have done without the harmonica and the songs you taught me. When I played, it made me feel close to you.”

He folded her hand up inside his to completely protect it. “So you worked a charm on me without even knowing the Choctaw words?”

“I don't know. But I always prayed that you were well.” It was very hard to speak. “I always prayed I'd see you again.”

“Well, here I am. Big as life and twice as ornery.” His laughing tone was a caress. “Proves the old saying, kid. ‘Be careful what you wish for—you may get it.'”

I didn't wish for Crystal
. But this closeness, this honesty, was more than she had hoped for. She'd be a fool not to be grateful for what she had of him. As they walked along, blanketed in the night, it was easy to pretend they were the only ones in the world.

Then he said, proudly, “Crystal, she's going to marry me.”

Laurie never knew what she said, how she endured the hour Johnny spent at the trailer. From his jacket, he produced turquoise earrings for Marilys, a silver tie clasp for Way, tooled billfolds for Buddy and Everett, and for Laurie, a gold pin shaped like a guitar.

She thanked him and fetched his gifts from under the tree, a pullover of softest wool she had knitted with help from Marilys in setting in the arms and doing the neck and cuffs, gray-green to match his eyes. Way and the boys had bought him a special compass to fit in his truck. Marilys, undertaking the task of finding something for Crystal, had used their pooled money for a half-ounce of Crystal's favorite French perfume.

While Johnny had fruitcake and coffee, he gave the others his news. Way's jaw dropped. “Boy howdy! Never thought—”

Marilys broke in. “That's—exciting, Johnny. Are you getting married here?”

“Just stopping by a justice of the peace on our way to New Orleans. Dub's blowing us to a honeymoon there.”

Laurie tried not to bad-mouth W.S. around Johnny but it got her goat when Johnny spoke with admiring affection of the man who'd kept them on the run for years, had almost destroyed Way, and even lately had tried to blackmail Marilys. It was a good thing Redwine seemed no more eager to encounter Laurie than she was to see him. Since he never ate at the hotel and was often gone for weeks at a time, she could almost forget what a threat he'd been. Almost. She didn't trust him, never would, but surely he'd learned some lessons and was clever enough not to try to dominate Johnny as he had his son and would have her if he'd had the chance.