BLACKWATER:The Mysterious Saga of the Caskey Family (29 page)

The Caskeys were uncomfortable. Sister would not look at Queenie Strickland, but stared instead at the little girl sitting beside her. Occasionally she attempted to whisper a word or two of consolation. Mary-Love sat stolidly with her arms crossed over her breast and stared at Queenie as if in disbelief that any civilized woman should so disgrace herself. Now and then she glanced up at James reproachfully as if the whole business were his fault. She rather considered that it "was, for it was through his marriage that the Caskeys were connected with such a woman as Queenie Strickland. James stood exactly as he stood when he had first stepped onto the porch. He did not know what to do and had no idea what to say and was cognizant of every thought going through Mary-Love's head. In his heart he agreed with her—it was all his fault. All that he might do then was to get the business over with as quickly as possible.

"So you've left Carl, is that what you're saying, Queenie?"

"Of course!" cried Queenie, rising to her feet and apparently preparing to rush James once more. He held up his hands and waved her down again. She fell back onto the glider, but not before Malcolm had another opportunity deliberately to stick his hand beneath her so that he again might have the pleasure of squealing and of administering another punch to his mother's thigh. "Did you want me to stay with him?" cried Queenie. "Did you want to see me beat down into the ground by that devil-man's heavy hand?"

"Oh, Ma, I'd beat him!" cried Malcolm, now administering a volley of illustrative punches against his mother's leg.

"Well," said James, after a moment's thought, "where is Carl?"

"Is Carl Strickland in Nashville?" cried Queenie wildly, jumping up and down on the glider. "Do I know? He may be. He may not be. Does Carl Strickland know where
I
am is a better question. He does not. Or if he does,
I
am not the one who told him. I put my bags and my darlings in the back seat of a car and I drove directly to Perdido, Alabama, without a license or ten dollars to my name."

Sister looked up quickly at this mention of money.

Queenie was suddenly quiet. She looked around the porch and when she continued her manner was greatly subdued.

"Do I have a place to go? is another question you might well ask, James Caskey. And what would the answer be, Malcolm Strickland? Would the answer be 'yes'? No, it wouldn't. Would the answer be 'no,' Lucille Strickland? Yes, it would. The Stricklands— except Carl Strickland—are without a roof for their heads. Their automobile is broken down in front of the Perdido town hall, blocking traffic, and will never move again. The Stricklands—except Carl Strickland—don't have the ready cash to purchase themselves a box of rotten apples sold by a colored boy on the side of the highway."

James Caskey collapsed onto the glider between Early Haskew and Mary-Love. For several moments no one said anything, and all that could be heard was the sobbing of Lucille, which had begun anew when her mother had addressed her with the rhetorical question. Ivey Sapp could be seen through the kitchen window that looked out onto the porch, unabashedly watching all that was happening.

"Why exactly did you come to Perdido, Miz Strickland?" asked Mary-Love in a cold voice.

"You have got to call me Queenie! You just got to! I came to Perdido because of James. I don't have any family. I had Genevieve, and she was all. We were Snyders. All the Snyders are dead. Except my brother Pony Snyder. Pony went to Oklahoma. Married an Indian girl. My darlings here have got fifteen, twenty little Indian cousins now, I hear. But I couldn't go live with Pony. They don't have anything. I don't even know what his Indian wife's first name is. Would I raise my darlings on an Indian reservation?"

"I'd shoot 'em, Ma!" cried Malcolm.

"I know you would, darling," said Queenie indulgently, brushing her son's hair with an affectionate hand. "But I was thinking about all those times my sweet sister stayed with me, and I'd say to her, 'Genevieve Snyder'—I never did get used to her married name, and I guess I'll always think of her as a Snyder—'why are you staying here with me when you've got the best husband in all the world pining away for you down in Perdido? Why aren't you with him?' and she'd say, 'I don't know, 'cause you're right, he's the best man in all the world, he'd do anything for me or for you or for your children. I guess I just love Nashville too much for my own good.' That was her problem, she loved Nashville. I never saw a girl take to a city the way Genevieve took to Nashville. She couldn't be happy anywhere else in the world, I guess. So she told me if anything ever happened and I needed help to come down here and speak to her husband James Caskey, and when something happened—something truly awful—I got in my car and here I am."

Though patently meretricious, Queenie Strickland's speech achieved its desired effect. James Caskey was persuaded to assist her and her children. Their meager baggage was carried into his house by Bray, and later in the afternoon Grace Caskey was introduced to her younger cousins. By way of greeting, Lucille smeared chocolate onto Grace's dress and Malcolm punched her in the stomach.

For the first time in a long while James had dinner served at his own table instead of eating at Mary-Love's. Roxie came back from Elinor's for the evening to cook for them. James had no wish to inflict Queenie and Malcolm and Lucille on the rest of his family. He even took the precaution of sending Grace next door to Mary-Love's, and Mary-Love promised Grace that she could stay for as long as those awful people remained with her father. Over the meal, James said to Queenie, "You sure you want to stay in Perdido? You really think the three of you could be happy here? Here where you don't know anybody?"

"Well, we know you, James Caskey. Who else do we have to know? And now we have been properly introduced to the main part of your family, even though I counted more of'em at the funeral, I'll probably get to meet 'em all in time, so who else could I want? Lucille and Malcolm are happy as pipers."

Lucille and Malcolm drummed their heels against the rungs of their chairs.

"All right," said James Caskey wearily, regretting that he had ever mourned his loneliness in that house, "then tomorrow I start looking out a place for you to live."

"A place?" cried Queenie, swiveling her head all around, but managing to keep her eye firmly on the gravy boat that she was tilting over her rice. "What is wrong with right here? You have room—all the room in the world! We could have moved our whole entire house inside your front parlor, James Caskey—that's how much room you have."

James thought he caught the glint of another trap hidden in the fallen leaves in his path. He stopped stock-still, looked about for alternate routes, and at last said quietly, "No, Queenie."

"James Caskey, you—"

"I will look you out a place to live. I will pay for it, and I will take care of you—within certain limits—for Genevieve's sake. But I cannot let you stay in this house with Grace and me."

"You are lonely!" cried Queenie. James realized, in something of a panic, that he could see a very large trap indeed, just a little farther on in the forest.

"I have Grace!"

"Your darling girl is a tiny child! She cannot keep you company the way I could! We could be a happy family. You have lost your wife—my darling Gene vieve—and I have lost a husband, that heathen rapscallion Carl Strickland, I'm ashamed to bear his stinking name! I'm ashamed to have my darlings wear it through life! It's my one comfort—"

"Queenie," said James, interrupting, "you can stay here tonight. But tomorrow I will find someplace else for you to live."

"James Caskey, I know why you are doing this. I know why you are turning me out of your home."

"Why?" he asked, very much puzzled.

"Because darling Malcolm broke that itty-bitty piece of glass this afternoon, he just wanted to look at it, he thought it was so pretty—I did, too, I said, 'Malcolm Strickland, put James's thing back where it belongs and don't you pick up anything in this house ever again,' and he said, 'Ma, I won't ever pick up anything of Uncle James's ever again as long as I live.' I tried to fix it, but those pieces just wouldn't all fit back together again."

James Caskey didn't have the heart to ask what had been broken, and for the next week he was reluctant even to glance at his shelves of beautiful things for fear he would discover which piece the child had destroyed.

"That's not why," he said to Queenie. "I didn't even know about... the accident."

"Ohhh! Then why did I say anything!" cried Queenie involuntarily. "James, we could be so happy!"

But James, displaying uncharacteristic fortitude, would not be persuaded, and next day he bought outright the house next to Dr. Benquith's on the sunny side of the low hill that rose up west of the town hall. It was a merciful ten-minute walk, at the least, from there to the Caskeys' houses, and Queenie was so round and roly-poly that everyone figured that she wouldn't often go to the physical exertion of making that journey. Queenie and her children slept in that house that very first night on rollaway beds appropriated from Mary-Love's storage rooms.

Mary-Love, once she was convinced that James had accepted the blame for having lured Queenie Strickland to Perdido, set out to make the situation as easy as possible for him. She saw to the furniture in one day's shopping in Mobile, thus demonstrating, if anyone had ever doubted, the extent of her procrastination in obtaining the furnishings for Oscar and Elinor's house.

James introduced Oscar and Elinor to Queenie and her children. Something in Elinor's manner, or in her eyes, cowed even Malcolm and Lucille. Malcolm didn't kick and Lucille didn't cry, although when they got home Malcolm showed his mother a bruise on his arm, claiming that Elinor had twisted the flesh there when no one was looking.

Elinor, with the aid of Roxie and Zaddie, ran up curtains for all the windows in Queenie's house, took them over, hung them up, and then went away again without accepting so much as a cup of coffee or piece of cake for their effort.

Queenie didn't have to worry about money, for James Caskey set up small accounts for her in certain stores, and she was allowed to take away what she needed. Once, however, in Berta Hamilton's dress shop, when Queenie pointed out a long coat with a fur collar and wide fur sleeves, Berta Hamilton said pointedly, "Oh, Miz Strickland, I think that's probably not gone fit you too well..."

Queenie insisted on trying it on anyway and, contrary to the prediction, it fit perfectly, and Berta Hamilton was forced to say outright what she had only discreetly hinted at before: "I am not gone put a hundred-and-fifty-dollar coat on Mr. James's bill when you have already spent three hundred and sixty-two dollars in here this month, Miz Strickland."

Queenie fumed, and Queenie fretted, but Queenie went away without the coat. She began to understand what James had meant by "certain limits."

CHAPTER 21
CHRISTMAS

Queenie Strickland found that Perdido was a tough nut to crack. There was no question but that she was better off than she had been in Nashville; she was being taken care of in a more agreeable way, she had a nicer house, and most importantly she had got rid of her husband, Carl. But other things weren't so quick in coming; for instance, friends and acquaintances. No woman who talked as much as Queenie Strickland could get along for any length of time without people, and she was the sort, moreover, who rather wore friends down. She needed a number of them so that she could bear down upon them one by one a little at a time; that way the abrasions she inflicted had time to heal and be forgotten. She wasted no time in building a new circle.

To Florida Benquith next door, Queenie—sweet as sweet could be—sent over a pie for the doctor and scraps for the dog. The next day she asked Florida if she wouldn't mind setting a hem for her with pins, it would only take three seconds. Florida, envious of the social power wielded by the Caskeys in the town, craftily acquiesced to become Queenie's friend. This, she calculated, would either provide a way of becoming closer with the Caskeys if Queenie ultimately proved herself acceptable to Mary-Love and the rest, or else specifically to annoy them in case Queenie turned out to be an outcast. Thus, Queenie gained a foothold, and from it began deliberately to enlarge her circle of acquaintances. For one thing, she joined the bridge group that met every Tuesday afternoon.

There were two bridge clubs in Perdido, the more fashionable convening on Monday afternoons, the other on the following day; at the second, the principal topic of conversation was what had been said, worn, and served at bridge the day before. The first group centered around Mary-Love; the second revolved around Florida Benquith. Elinor Caskey, when she left Mary-Love's house, and would no longer have anything to do with her mother-in-law, had dropped into the second group. She was rather resented there, first because she carried the greatest social weight, and second because she was a member actually by default. But through these Tuesday afternoon gatherings, Elinor and Queenie became acquainted with each other.

In the middle of November, by the chance of the draw, the Tuesday meetings were held on successive weeks first in Elinor's house and then in Queenie's. Though accidental, this exchange of visits assumed the dimensions of a public embrace, and thereafter Queenie and Elinor were considered to be friends. This was a willful—perhaps even mischievous— misinterpretation of the circumstances on the part of Florida Benquith and her circle, but it was a misinterpretation that stuck, perhaps because neither Queenie nor Elinor did anything to deny it.

Somehow, Mary-Love heard of this, or divined it by miraculous clairvoyance, and was disturbed. Mary-Love had no liking for Queenie, either in her person or in her position as Genevieve's sister. She particularly did not like to see Queenie rollicking behind the enemy lines. She began to fear that Elinor and Queenie would join forces and launch a concerted attack against her.

Consequently, at dinner after church a few weeks later, Mary-Love said to James, "It is time to mend our fences."