Casteel 1 - Heaven (5 page)

What an ugly face Fanny made behind Miss Deale's back. She groaned, moaned, and made a terrible fuss before Tom hushed her up with his hand over her mouth.

"Perhaps one day you'll all have lunch with

me," Miss Deale said casually after a short silence as all of us watched Our Jane and Keith lick their cones with so much rapture it could make you cry. No wonder they loved Sundays so much; Sundays brought them the only treats they'd known so far in life.

We'd no sooner finished our cones than Ma and Pa showed up in the doorway of the drugstore. “C'mon,” called Pa, “leaving for home nowunless you want to walk.”

Then he spied Miss Deale, who was hurriedly buying penny candy that Our Jane and Fanny were selecting with the greatest possible care, pointing to this piece, that piece. He strode toward us, wearing a cream-​colored suit that Granny said my mother had bought for him on their two-​week honeymoon in Atlanta. If I hadn't known differently, I would have thought Pa a handsome gentleman with culture, the way he looked in that suit.

“You must be the teacher my kids talk about all the time,” he said to her, putting out his hand. She pulled away, as if all my information about his visiting Shirley's Place had killed her admiration for him.

"Your eldest son and daughter are my best stu-

dents,“ she said coolly, ”as you should know since I've written you many times about them.“ She didn't men- tion Fanny or Keith or Our Jane, since they weren't in her class. ”I hope you are proud of both Heaven and Tom."

Pa looked totally astounded as he glanced at Tom, then flicked his eyes my way. For two solid years Miss Deale had been writing him notes to tell him how bright she thought we were. The Winnerrow school was so delighted with what Miss Deale was doing for deprived hill kids (sometimes considered half-​wits) they were allowing her to “advance” along with us, from grade to grade.

“Why, that's a very nice thing to hear on a beautiful Sunday afternoon,” said Pa, trying to meet her eyes and hold them. She refused to look at him, as if afraid once she did, she couldn't look away. “I always wanted to go on to acquire a higher education myself, but never had the chance,” extolled Pa.

“Pa,” said I, speaking up loud and sharp, “we've decided to walk home . . . so you and Ma can leave and forget about us.”

“Don't wanna walk home!” cried Our Jane. “Wanna ride!”

Near the doorway of the store Sarah stood

watching with her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Pa bowed slightly to Miss Deale and said, “It's been a pleasure to meet you, Miss Deale.” He leaned to sweep Our Jane up in one arm, lifted Keith with the other, and out the door he strode, seeming to everyone in the store the only cultivated, charming Casteel the world had ever seen. Not one pair of lips was left together, all gaping as if at a miracle not to be believed.

And again, despite all I'd said to warn her, something admiring lit up the gullible sky-​blue eyes of my teacher.

It was a rare kind of perfect day, with birds flying overhead, and autumn leaves softly falling. I was like Keith, caught up in nature. I only half heard what Tom was saying until I saw Fanny's dark eyes widen with surprise. “NO! Yer wrong. Weren't Heaven that good-​looking new boy was staring at! It was me!”

“What boy?” I asked.

“The son of the new pharmacist who's come to run the drugstore,” explained Tom. “Didn't ya notice the name Stonewall? He was in the store when Miss Deale bought us the cones, an by gosh, he sure seemed taken by ya, Heavenly, he sure did.”

“Liar!” yelled Fanny. “Nobody ever stares at Heaven when I'm there, they don't!”

Tom and I ignored Fanny and her screaming voice. “Heard tell he's gonna be comin t'our school tornmorra,” Tom continued. “Made me feel funny t'way he looked at ya,” he went on in an embarrassed way. “Sure will hate t'day when ya marry up an we're not close anymore.”

“We'll always be close,” I said quickly. “No boy is ever going to convince me I need him more than I need an education.”

Yet, in bed that night, curled up on the floor near Ole Smokey, I stared through the dimness to where I could imagine seeing a brand-​new pretty blue dress, never worn by anyone else, hanging on a wall nail. Foolishly, as only the young can believe, I thought that if I wore beauty it would somehow change the world about me. I woke up knowing I wanted a new dress more than anythingand wondering, too, if that new boy would like me even if I never had anything new to wear.

Logan

Stonewall . TOM, FANNY, OUR JANE, KEITH, AND I

HAD HARDLY HIT the schoolyard on Monday morning when Tom was pointing out the new boy, the very one he'd spotted staring at me in church. Wien I turned to look toward the ball field where the boys were already playing, my breath caught. He stood out from all the others, this new boy in better clothes than the valley boys wore. The morning sun behind him put a sort of fiery halo above his dark hair, so I couldn't really see his face that was in shadow, yet I knew from the way he stood, tall and straight, not slouched like some mountain boys who were ashamed of their height, that I liked him right from the beginning. It was silly, of course, to like a complete stranger just because he had a certain kind of confidence that wasn't arrogance, only visible strength and poise. I glanced at Tom, and knew why I immedi- ately liked a boy I'd never seen before. Logan and Tom both had the same kind of natural grace and ease with themselves that came from snowing who and what they were. I looked again at Tom. How could he

stride so proudly beside me when Ito was a Casteel? I longingly wished I had his poise, his

confidence, his ability to accept, though I might have if I'd had my father's loveas he had.

“He's staring at you again,” whispered Tom, giving me a sharp nudge, causing Fanny to shrill in her too-​loud voice, “He is NOT starin at Heaven! He's starin at ME!”

Fanny embarrassed me again. But if that new boy heard, he didn't show any signs. He stood out like a Christmas tree in his sharply creased gray flannel slacks and his bright green sweater worn over a white shirt and a gray-​and-​green-​striped tie. He had on regular Sunday hard shoes, polished to a shine. All the valley boys wore jeans and knit tops, and sneakers. No one, ever, came to school dressed up as Logan Stonewall was.

Did he see us staring? He must have, for suddenly, alarmingly, he came our way! What would I say to someone so dressed up? I tried to shrink into my shoes. Each step that brought him closer put panic in my heart. I wasnt ready yet to meet anyone wearing gray flannel slacks (something I wouldn't have known if Miss Deale hadn't once worn a gray suit to school of the same fabric; she was always

trying to educate me on fabrics, clothes, and such). I tried to scurry away with Keith and Our Jane before he saw the shabbiness of my worn, colorless dress with the hem half out and my scuffed, almost soleless shoes, but Our Jane resisted.

“Don't feel good,” she wailed. “Wanna go home, Hey-​lee.”

“You can't go home again,” I whispered. “You'll never finish first grade if you stay out sick all the time. Maybe I can bring you and Keith a sandwich this noonand some milk.”

“Tuna fish!” Keith sang out happily, and with thoughts of half a tuna fish sandwich, Our Jane let go of my hand and with slow small steps entered the classroom where all the first graders seemed to have funall but Our Jane.

I hurried after my two charges, but not so fast that Logan Stonewall didn't catch up in the hall just outside the first grade. I turned to see him shaking hands with Tom. Logan was good-​looking in the kind of way I'd seen in books and magazines, like someone with years and years of cultured background that had given him what none of us in the hills hadquality. His nose was slender and straight, his lower lip much fuller and more shapely than his upper one, and even

from six feet away I could see his dark blue eyes smiling warmly at me. His jaw was squarish and strong, and a dimple in his left cheek played in and out as he smiled my way. His demeanor of assurance made me feel awkward, afraid I'd do and say everything wrong, and then he'd turn for sure to Fanny, and if she said and did everything wrong, it wouldn't matter. Boys always fell for Fanny.

“Hi there, stranga,” greeted Fanny, skipping forward and smiling up into his face. Fanny had never bothered to accompany Our Jane or Keith to their respective classrooms before. “Yer t'best-​lookin boy I eva did see.”

“That's Fanny, my sister,” explained Tom.

“Hi, Fanny. .” But Logan Stonewall didn't do more than glance at Fanny. He waited for Tom to introduce me.

“And this is my sister, Heaven Leigh.” There was so much pride in Tom's voice, as if he didn't see my shapeless ugly dress, or think I had any reason to be ashamed of my shoes. “And that small girl who's peaking out of the first-​grade door is my youngest sister, who we call Our Jane, and across the hall, that amber-​haired boy grinning at us is my brother, Keith. Go sit down, Keith; you too, Our Jane.”

How could Tom act so natural around a boy as citified and well dressed as Logan Stonewall? I was all aflutter with excitement as those smiling sapphire eyes looked at me as I'd never been looked at before. “What a pretty name,” said Logan, his eyes meeting mine. “It suits you very well. I don't think I've ever seen more heavenly blue eyes.”

“I've got black eyes,” shouted Fanny, stepping in front of me to block his view. “Anybody kin have blue eyes . . . like Heaven's. I like yer color blue betta.”

“Cornflower-​blue eyes, Miss Deale calls the color of Heavenly's eyes,” informed Tom with evident pride, “and there isn't another girl fer ten miles around with eyes that same shade of blue that I call heavenly blue.”

“I believe you. . .” murmured Logan Stonewall, still staring at me.

I was only thirteen; he couldn't have been more than fifteen, or at the most sixteen, yet our eyes seemed to cling and strike a gong that would resound throughout the rest of our lives.

It was only the school bell ringing.

I was saved from having to say anything by the bustling scurry of kids rushing to their homerooms

and seating themselves before the teacher came in. Tom was laughing when he sat behind his desk. “Heavenly, I never saw you turn so many shades of red. Logan Stonewall is just another boy. Better dressed than most, and better looking, but only another boy.”

He wasn't feeling what I was feeling, yet he narrowed his eyes and stared at me in an odd way, until he turned and bowed his head, and I bowed mine.

Miss Deale came in, and before I could figure out what I'd say to Logan when next I saw him, it was lunchtime. I had to keep my promise about the sand- wich and milk. I sat at my desk as all the others left for lunch. Miss Deale looked up. “Why, Heaven, do you want to speak with me about something?”

I wanted to plead for a sandwich to give to Keith and Our Jane, but somehow I just couldn't. Standing, I smiled and hurried out, staring at the floor of the corridor, just praying to find a quarter . . and that's when Logan's gray shoes came into view. “I waited for you to come out with Tom.” He looked earnest even as his eyes still smiled. “Will you have lunch with me?”

“I never eat lunch.”

My answer made him frown. “Everybody eats lunch. So come along, and we'll have hamburgers, shakes, and french fries.”

Did that mean he was going to pay for my lunch as well as his own? My pride reared high. “I have to take care of Our Jane and Keith during the lunch hour . . .”

“Okay, they're invited, too,” he said nonchalantly, “and I might as well include Tom and Fanny, in case you're thinking of them.”

“We can afford to pay for our own lunches.”

For a second he didn't seem to know what to say. He shot me another quick glance, then shrugged. “All right, if you want it that way.”

Oh, gosh . . . I didn't want it that way! But my pride was as high as any mountain in the Willies.

He walked beside me toward the lower-​grade classrooms. Any moment, I thought, he'd regret his invitation. Both Our Jane and Keith were waiting near the first grade, each seeming terribly anxious before Our Jane came flying into my arms, half sobbing. “Kin we eat now, Hey-​lee? My tummy hurts.”

About the same time, Keith began jabbering about the tuna fish sandwich I'd promised. “Did Miss Deale send us another one?” he asked, his small face

bright and eager. “Is it Monday today? Did she send us milk?”

I tried to smile at Logan, who was taking all of this in and looking thoughtfully at Our Jane, then at Keith. Finally he turned to me and smiled. “If you'd rather have tuna fish sandwiches, maybe the cafeteria will have a few left if we hurry there.”

There wasn't anything I could do now that Keith and Our Jane began running toward the cafeteria like foxes on the scent of chickens. “Heaven,” said Logan with earnestness, “I've never allowed a girl to pay for her own lunch when I invite her. Please allow me to treat you.”

We no sooner entered the cafeteria than I could hear the whispers and speculationswhat was Logan doing with the crummy Casteels? Tom was there, as if Logan had invited him earlier, and for some reason that made me feel much better. Now I could smile and help Our Jane sit at a long table. Keith crowded as close to her side as possible and looked around shyly. “Everybody still want tuna fish sandwiches and milk?” asked Logan, who had asked Tom to go with him to help bring back our lunches. Our Jane and Keith stuck to their preference, while I agreed to try the hamburger and cola drink. I looked around while

Tom and Logan were gone, trying to see Fanny. She wasn't in the cafeteria. That gave me another worry. Fanny had her own ways of gaining a meal.

All about us, people kept whispering, not seeming to care if I heard or not. “What's he doing with her? She's just a hillbilly. And his family has to be rich.”

Logan Stonewall drew many an eye as he came back with Tom, both of them smiling and happy to deliver tuna sandwiches, hamburgers, french fries, and shakes, and milk too. Both Our Jane and Keith were overwhelmed by all the food, wanting to sip my shake, taste my hamburger, try the french fries, so I ended up with the milk and Our Jane drank my cola, closing her eyes tight with delight. “I'll buy you another,” Logan offered, but I refused to allow him to do that. He'd already done more than enough.

I found out he really was fifteen. He smiled with pleasure when I whispered my age. He had to know my birthdate, as if that mattered, and it seemed it did; his mother believed in astrology. He told me how he'd managed to have himself assigned to the study hall where I sat each day to do my homework. I always tried to finish it there so I could take novels home instead of schoolbooks.

For the first time in my life I had a real boyfriend, one who didn't presume I was easy just because I lived in the hills. Logan didn't mock my clothes or my background. However, from day one Logan made enemies in our school, because he was different, too good-​looking, his clothes too “citified.” His poise was too annoying, his family too rich, his father too educated, his mother too haughty. It was presumed by the other boys he was a sissy. Even that first day Tom said that one day Logan would have to prove himself. The other boys tried all their silly, but not so harmless, pranks. They put tacks in his shoes in the gym; they tied his shoelaces together so he'd be late to his next class after gym; they put glue in his shoes, and backed away when he grew angry and threatened to beat the culprit.

Before his first week was over Logan was placed two grades above Tom's and my level. By that time he, too, wore jeans and plaid shirts, but more expensive designer jeans, and shirts that came from some place in New England called Bean's. He still stuck out despite the clothes. He was too soft-​spoken and polite when others were rude, loud, and rough. He refused to act like the other boys, refused to use their foul language.

.

On Friday I skipped study hall, much to Tom's amazement. He couldn't stop questioning me as we strolled home in bright September sunshine. It was still warm enough so Tom could dive into the river, clothes and allthough he did pull off his worn sneakers. I fell on the grassy bank with Our Jane cuddled near my side, and Keith gazed up at a squirrel perched on a tree limb. I said without thought to Tom as he splashed around, “I wish to God I'd been born with silvery-​gold hair”; then I bit down hard on my tongue from the way Tom turned to stare at me. He shook his head to throw off the water as a dog would. Fortunately, Fanny had dropped far, far behind as we trudged home, and even from where we were, we could hear her faint lilting giggles coming over the hills and through the woods.

“Heavenly, do ya know now?” Tom asked in the oddest hesitant whisper.

“Know what?”

“Why ya want silvery-​blond hair when what ya got is fine, jus fine?”

“Just a crazy wish, I guess.”

"Now wait a minute, Heavenly. If ya an me are gonna stay friends, an more than just brother and

sister, ya gotta be on the square. Do ya or don't ya know who had that silvery-​gold color of hair?"

“Do you know?” I tried to evade.

“Sure I know.” He came out of the water, and we headed toward home. “Always have known,” he said softly, “since 'first time I went t'school. Boys in the rest room told me about Pa's first city wife from Boston with her long silvery-​gold hair, an how everybody jus knew she couldn't last livin up in t'hills. Jus kept on hopin ya'd neva find out, an stop thinking I was so durn wonderful. Cause I ain't that wonderful. Got no Boston blood in me, no rich genes that's been cultured an civilizedlike you got. I got one hundred percent dumb hillbilly genes, despite what you and Miss Deale think.”

It hurt to hear him say such things. "Don't you talk like that, Thomas Luke Casteel! You heard Miss Deale talk on that subject the other day. The most brilliant parents in the world often give birth to idiots . . . and idiots can give birth to genius! Didn't she say that it was nature's way to equalize? Didn't she say that sometimes when parents are too smart, they seem to use up all the brain fodder on themselves and leave none of it for their children? Remember all she said about nothing in nature being predictable? The only

reason you don't get all the A's I do is because you play hooky too much! You must keep on believing what Miss Deale said about all of us being unique, born for a purpose only we can fulfill. Thomas Luke, you keep remembering that."

“You keep remembering it too,” he said, gruffly, turning to give me a hard look, “and stop crying out in the night to be different than what you are. I like what you are now.” His green eyes were soft and luminous in the dim shade of the piny woods. “You're my fair gypsy sister, ten times more important to me than my whole sister, Fanny, who doesn't really give a damn about anybody but herself. She doesn't love me as you do, and I can't love her as much as I can love you. You're the only sister I got who can put her mind on a star in another universe.” He looked so sad then, making me hurt inside.