Nazareth's Song (20 page)
“Not foreclosure papers. The bank’s buying out the Hoppers to help them out of their worries. You going to eat that ice cream, or you want me to eat it?”
“Beck says his granddaddy paid for that place years ago. How much Mills give them for that place? It must be more than a hundred acres or so. You telling me the Hoppers are in the money now?”
“So to speak.” Jeb did not know how to answer Angel.
“Beck must not have known about it.”
“No way for the boy to know about it. Until today, the Hoppers didn’t know.”
“Wonder what the bank will do with that land? Windstorms have about blown everything away that was useful. At least that’s what Beck told me.”
“Not my business. But Mills wanted the Hoppers to be on their way. Asa tried to burn down the whole town, Angel. It’s best they move on, find a new life.”
“So you’re helping Mills give them the boot, skedaddle, hit the road, Jack.” Angel’s sarcasm drew the eye of the soda jerk.
“Until Beck talked you into running off, I’ll admit I wasn’t keen on the idea. To tell you the truth, I can’t wait for that boy to leave and never come back to Nazareth.”
“That’s what Jesus told people—one wrong move and you’re out!”
“Eat your ice cream.”
“It’s not the kind I like. Ice cream shouldn’t be green.”
Jeb caught the eye of the soda jerk. “Could you please find something large enough to fill this girl’s mouth?”
“Chocolate, please,” said Angel.
“I’ll check on the Hoppers when I get back, Angel. I don’t want them to starve any more than you do.”
“It’s not their bellies that troubles me, Jeb. It’s that land. They’ve just lost their souls to Horace Mills. They’ll never be the same. Horace will up and sell off their place to someone that don’t know how Beck was born out by that stream when his momma was setting bait for trout. Or how Asa proposed to Telulah under that apple tree near the barn. Bankers like Mills never stop to think that you can’t put a price on a body’s history.”
Jeb shoved aside his ice-cream dish. Angel slid it next to hers and mixed his remaining vanilla scoop with her chocolate.
“You always have to be so smart, Angel?”
“I like it mixed. Not just vanilla alone.”
J
eb meandered down stretches of country roadways dotted by sharecropper shanties until the main city roadways came smooth beneath the truck tires on Old 67. The country road gave way to Asher Avenue. Little Rock had long strings of streetlights connecting uninterrupted along the main arteries, including all the way down where Asher eventually connected with Main Street and city stores like M. M. Cohn, Blass, Scotts, Woolworth’s, McLellan, and the S & H Store. Montgomery Ward and Pfeifer Brothers’ Department Store lined the downtown streets with winter temptations. But Jeb pulled the truck up to the corner of Asher and Mablevale Pike where a man leaned against a light pole sipping coffee and catching up on the front page of the
Gazette.
Jeb slowed alongside the curb and asked, “We’re trying to find Elm Street. Have you heard of it?”
The man drew up his mouth and said, “You might try pulling into the filling station on this here block. I’m kind of new, but I know of a feller by the name of Gunny runs the place, and he’s lived h’yere all his life.”
“We could use another tank of gas anyway; thank you kindly,” Jeb answered.
The corner station had several customers waiting for fill-ups or tire checks and several Fords in the two oil-slathered bays. Jeb picked up a Little Rock map and let the attendant help him find Elm, which was only three blocks away. He bought two moon pies and handed one to Angel.
“I need you to help me find your Aunt Kate. When I pull onto Elm, you tell me when you see the address 2019. We should be there shortly.”
Angel had not said much in the last half hour.
“I think your aunt will be happy to see you.”
“I hope so. All I know about her is what Momma used to tell us. She hasn’t seen me since I was young. According to the map, we’re to turn left on this next street. That’s Elm. The way I figure it, not too many kids in our family have had good come to them. The only ones still with their momma is Aunt Kate’s kids. I got an aunt and uncle down in Louisiana that parted their ways, and we never heard what happened to any of them. Somehow Aunt Kate’s done good by her own, and they manage to get by. Maybe this is the best thing for me and Willie and Ida May.”
“Little Rock’s a bigger place. Maybe the schools are good too. Not that you could do better than Fern Coulter for a teacher.”
“She’s not my teacher this year, but she’s done well by Willie and Ida May.”
“I couldn’t get the boy to read, but she’s got him reading and writing too.”
“I’d hate to see Miss Coulter marry off with that Oz Mills, though. He’d never love her like you do. He loves his own self too much to love someone else the right way.” She pointed to a street sign. “That looked like 2019, Jeb. Turn around.” She got anxious for the first time.
Jeb stopped the truck and backed into a drive between two old houses.
Angel smoothed her hair around her face and pulled a ribbon out of her sack. She tied it several ways on her head before finally making a thin pink bow that fell sideways across the crown of her head.
Jeb read the name painted across the mailbox, “Butto,” and then pulled into the yard. Heavy oaks as old as Arkansas shaded the yards darkly and left shallow ice puddles unmelted. Angel pulled out the envelope again and read the street address several times, counting down the houses until she finally said, “This is it. Butto is my aunt’s last name. I see cousins all over the porch. They look big, don’t they?”
Jeb slowed the truck and turned off the ignition in front of the house. It had a fairly strong roof compared to some of the neighboring houses—a green shingle overhang dotted with sweet-gum balls from the slanting tree.
Two of the children on the porch ran inside. Their shoes flapped against the wooden porch, which heaved even under their frail weight. One big girl with a baby on her hip stared at them.
A woman appeared with the two youngest boys hiding their faces in her tattered skirt. She peered out at Angel, who by now had stepped onto the lawn.
“We’re looking for Kate Butto,” said Jeb.
“I’m her,” said the woman.
“Aunt Kate, it’s me. Angel.” Her voice sounded more shy than usual, not like the boisterous schoolgirl marching the halls of Stanton School.
Angel’s aunt drew in her bottom lip and sighed. “Angel Welby? Thorne’s Angel?” She held out her arms.
Angel ran to her and threw her arms around her.
“I liked not to have known you, girl,” said Kate.
Jeb blew out a breath. “Afternoon, ma’am. I’m Jeb Nubey.”
“After all these years, I still can’t believe it’s you,” said Kate. She looked up at Jeb. She gave him the once-over and then an approving nod in Angel’s direction. “You’re the preacher that’s been carin’ for Thorne’s kids, ain’t you?” she asked.
“The best I know how,” said Jeb.
“You passin’ through town?” asked Kate.
“Mind if we step inside?” Jeb noticed several neighbor women had gathered on the lawn across the street to gawk.
“Effie, go and make some coffee. Matthew, you go clean off the couch for company.” Kate led them into the house.
The children followed Angel, curious about their big-girl cousin. As they walked into the small parlor, Effie cleared the couch by gathering old newspaper into wads.
“The boys sleep here on this sofa every night, so we have to clean things up when company comes.”
Jeb saw bedding strewn down the hallway and around the kitchen doorway. “How many children you keep now?” he asked.
“I got my four and two of my sister’s kids. I landed a job as a nurse’s aide up at the nervous hospital. It’s right up the street on Elm and Markham. It keeps the lights on and beans in the pantry. That, and I can keep an eye on my sister.” She yelled at the boys to back away from Jeb.
“I didn’t know you worked there, Aunt Kate.”
“I do, for a fact, Angel. But she made me promise not to tell you or your brother and sister. If she knew you was here, it would upset her to no end. She has her good moments from time to time and remembers her time with you all. On those days, the doctor says it seems like she could be released at any moment. Then she has a bad day. But you don’t need to hear about such things, Angel. Kids ought not to hear and see the things they do in this day and age, anyway.”
“I want to see her, Aunt Kate.”
“That hospital’s not a place for kids, Angel. People with nervous disease, they don’t have no control over theyselves. Some days I see things that stands my hair on end. I got some good stories, though.”
“Mrs. Butto, is there any way that I could see Mrs. Welby? On Angel’s behalf, that is, so that the girl can finally get some answers about her momma. She’s come a long way.”
“Reverend, can we talk outside?” she asked.
“Jeb, I think I’m old enough to hear this stuff. It’s my momma you’re talking about.” Angel blinked back a tear.
“Mrs. Butto, please speak freely. Angel is fourteen now.”
“You ain’t a baby no more, that’s for sure,” said Kate, eyeing Angel’s height.
“Maybe if all these kids could leave, that would be best,” said Angel.
Kate shooed the children out the door and then closed it behind them. “Drat if it hasn’t turned cold.” She sat next to Angel on the sofa. “You know what it means to restrain someone?”
Angel stiffened.
“Your Aunt Kate’s talking about straitjackets and such, Angel.” Jeb decided it was a mistake to allow Angel to stay in the room. “Maybe it’s best we talk later.”
“I’m not stupid. I’ve heard of straitjackets.”
“They had to restrain your momma this morning, Angel. Today is not a good day. Tomorrow might be better. Are the two of you planning on staying in town tonight?”
“Aunt Kate, I’ve come to—”
“See her momma. And we’ll stay until she gets to see her,” said Jeb. “Is there a good cheap room we can rent for the night?”
“Next block down. Follow me outside and I’ll point directly to it.” Kate took them out onto the porch and pointed to a green house with a sign on the door. “Name’s Till Churchill. Good woman. Not the best housekeeper, but she’s got two rooms open, and you all can stay for a few dollars. I’ll have to walk you down and tell her I know you. She don’t rent to strangers. I’d offer you a place here, but we don’t have an inch of space left. Even my oldest girl, Effie, has had to turn the attic into a place to sleep. She got herself pregnant some time ago, and now she’s got a kid to feed.”
“How old is Effie?” Jeb asked.
“Fourteen, same as Angel.”
Till’s boardinghouse rose two stories above a tangle of ivy and neglected climbing roses that had long lost their bloom. Jeb and Angel toted in one satchel and a paper bag of their belongings.
Till walked with a man’s cane and did not look as though she spent much time upright. The frown lines around her mouth gave her a permanent scowl, so when her voice sounded genteel it surprised them.
“These two rooms is all I have left. The others are taken up by boarders. Some work up at the hospital like Kate, others downtown. I once took in men only, but hard times have me taking in whoever has the money to pay. I hope you don’t mind, Reverend.”
“These rooms will be fine.” Jeb placed Angel’s sack inside one door.
“My leg’s gone bad on me, so I can’t clean things up like I used to do.” She opened the door all the way. The coverlet on the bed was sagging onto the floor on one side. Cottony webs undulated from the ceiling, caught in the draft between the door and the ill-fitted windowsill.
Jeb paid the woman and asked if he could pay for an evening meal for the both of them.
“Breakfast is included in the price. For two dollars you can have your dinner thrown in to boot,” said Till.
Jeb ordered two meals and thanked her again. Till ambled down the staircase to tend to supper.
“We didn’t tell Aunt Kate the truth about me, Jeb.”
“We didn’t lie, either, Angel. I think we should give her time to get used to you being around.”
“Effie’s in the attic with a kid in her bed. On top of that, Aunt Kate has a kid sleeping on every square inch of floor, Jeb.”
“I’ll admit it’s not the best of circumstances.”
“I want to go to Momma tonight, Jeb. The thought of her bound up in some hospital makes me sick to think of it.”
“We should listen to Kate, Angel. She works in that place. Let’s have some supper and get some sleep. Tomorrow will bring a better day.”
The sign out on the lawn read “Arkansas State Hospital for Nervous Diseases.”
Jeb yawned as he drove up the drive. He had awakened several times in the night, tossing around on the lumpy mattress. He’d found Angel sitting up against the wall in her room, listening, she had said, to scratching noises behind the boards. Till had cooked a breakfast of cornmeal mash and butter for a morning party of eight, including Jeb and Angel. Two of the borders had been women and the rest men who complained of the Red Cross lines running out of bread.
When he and Angel stepped onto the lawn, Angel said, “They call what Momma’s got ‘nervous disease’ here. I guess that sounds better than ‘the crazy house.’ Effie said we can find Aunt Kate just down the hallway where the nurses’ aides get their orders for the morning.”
“That cousin of yours—Effie—she’s got herself in trouble, Angel. I figure some boy like Beck Hopper sweet-talked her. Now she’s in a fix.”
“There you go, bringing Beck into matters. I’m here, ain’t I? Beck’s a million miles away, Jeb. You can’t blame him for everything.” Angel led the way into the hospital.
A janitor, dark as obsidian, mopped the corridor left of the entry, his sinewy arms reaching out with large circular sweeps. He acknowledged Jeb and Angel with a glance and then returned to his floor duties.
The other corridor was lined with mattresses. A patient lay curled up on each mattress, fetal shaped. At the end of the hallway, some of the mattresses had been stacked eight high.
“They must be low on rooms,” said Jeb.
“I hope they didn’t toss Momma out here like some cat.” Angel walked quickly past a woman who cried like a baby and reached out for her.
