Cottonwood Whispers (22 page)

Joel let out a snide laugh. “You talk a big talk, girl, but you ain’t never been nothin’ but a nigger-lovin’ brat.”

Luke ripped off his hat and threw it into the road, his eyes lit up with the fire of revenge. “If I’m goin’ to go to jail anyways, I may as well make it worth my while.”

Daddy caught Luke’s arm before it had a chance to come forward into Joel’s jaw, and he stepped square in front of Joel, his large frame casting a shadow over him. “You listen here, boy, and you listen good. You keep away from my family, and you keep away from my home, and you sit at the ready. Because if there’s truth out there about you, I aim to make sure it comes out. You hear?”

The crowd around us was so silent we could have heard a pin drop, and I reveled in the fear that sped across Joel Hadley’s face.

“You just wait,” Joel said with a wobbly voice. “You’ll get what’s comin’ to you.”

Daddy stepped an inch closer to Joel and stood three inches above him. “What’s that you say, boy?”

Joel didn’t say another word. He just stared at my daddy with a look that told us words he wouldn’t voice in front of the sheriff.

It was a rare day that I’d seen my daddy this angry, and I took hold of Luke’s arm, worried about what might come next.

But Daddy did nothing. He just stared at Joel and said, “Sheriff, you be sure to look into what these girls said. And until you got more than that Hadley boy’s face that says Luke committed a crime, he’s comin’ home with us.” Then he stepped away, took me and Gemma by the arms, and steered us all back to the truck.

Nothing more was said by anyone for the rest of the trip. Nothing needed to be said. There were enough worries around for everyone to share, and we all knew full well what they meant. Mr. Poe was still in jail, Nate Colby was still consumed by grief and could come gunning for revenge again, and Daddy’s mortgage was likely nothing but a memory.

Daddy’s pockets were as empty as Joel Hadley’s soul, and there wasn’t a one of us who wanted to voice that out loud. The only sound in the truck on the way home was
when Momma’s silent prayers broke out in an occasional whisper.

I whispered a feeble one of my own. After all, I figured it was the only thing we had left.

Now that the truth of everything had come out, so did Gemma’s true feelings, and she was a mix of guilt and tears nearly every minute. Momma was in the business of making people feel better, and as soon as we got home, she went to work trying to feed Gemma back to her old self. But Gemma wasn’t interested in food. She was only interested in freeing Mr. Poe. I was racking my brain, but I saw no way out for poor Mr. Poe. In my book he had no chance against a respected and powerful family like the Hadleys.

Late that afternoon I found Luke out on the front porch gobbling up some of the “medicine” my momma had fixed for Gemma. I sighed and plopped down next to him on the porch swing.

“Whoa there, Jessie,” he said, checking his shirt front. “You about made me spill your momma’s fruit salad.”

“It’d serve you right.”

He forked the last piece of watermelon into his mouth, nearly swallowing it whole, and glanced at me with wide eyes. “What’d I do?”

“Just look at you. The whole world’s fallin’ to pieces, and you’re sittin’ here like a dog with table scraps.”

“Your momma offered me some.”

“That ain’t the only thing you’ve eaten, Luke Talley. Everythin’ my momma’s meant for Gemma ended up in your stomach.”

“That’s because Gemma didn’t want it. What’d you expect me to do, let it go bad?”

“Fried chicken, ham biscuits . . .”

“Gemma didn’t want them.”

“Boiled eggs . . .”

“Jessilyn!” Luke said in such exasperation I couldn’t help but manage a smile. “You plan on keepin’ an eye on everythin’ I put in my stomach for the rest of my life?”

I tipped my head sideways and smiled at him. “Long as you stay around, I expect.”

He calmed down when he caught sight of my smile. “I ain’t got plans of goin’ nowhere.”

“You best not. I got me enough troubles as it is. Last thing I need is you walkin’ out on me.”

There was a serious look in his eyes, one that I wasn’t used to seeing, and I couldn’t have pulled my gaze away if I’d wanted to. “I ain’t ever goin’ to walk out on you, Jessilyn.”

The sound of my daddy clearing his throat broke the spell, and Luke jumped out of the swing like he’d been fingered by
the law. The swing joggled to and fro when he hopped out, making me smack my head on it. I rubbed the sore spot and examined Daddy’s face for his reaction. He had one hand on his hip, the other leaning against the doorjamb, and he closed his eyes briefly like he needed a minute to get his thoughts together. “Son, didn’t I hear you say you were goin’ to take Miss Cleta’s supplies over to her?”

Luke slapped his hat back on his head but almost knocked it off right away with an emphatic nod. “Yes’r. That’s right.”

He grabbed the sacks that were sitting on the porch and made his way down the steps like a scolded animal, never even giving me a second look, and I watched him run out of the yard and onto the road. He turned right, hurried off about thirty feet, and then stopped dead. I couldn’t help but smile when he turned back around and headed in the opposite direction.

“Seems that boy done forgot how to get around these parts,” Daddy murmured. Then he looked at me and said, “Jessilyn, ain’t you got somethin’ to do with your time?”

“Yes’r.”

“Then you best up and do it.”

“Yes’r.”

I got up and followed Luke’s hasty path down the steps. “I’ll go get the laundry off the line.”

Daddy nodded and, with a loud sigh, made his way back into the house. When I was turning the corner by the kitchen, his voice floated out to me even though he was trying to be quiet.

“Sadie, I done thought I had me a few more years before I had to worry about them two takin’ a shine to each other.”

I skidded to a stop and leaned back against the house to listen.

“Now, Harley, either you’re blind or you already know that girl of ours took a shine to him long ago.”

“But she’s just a girl!”

“She ain’t no girl no more, and you know it.”

“But that boy . . . he’s . . . well . . .”

“He’s what? He’s a good man. And he won’t go doin’ nothin’ we don’t approve of.”

“That right?” Daddy argued. “I just found those two on the swing makin’ eyes at each other. What d’you say about that?”

“You ought to know a little somethin’ about makin’ eyes at a girl.”

“You weren’t no seventeen years old when I made eyes at you, Sadie.”

“No, you’re right.” I heard Momma plunk something down onto the counter. “I was sixteen.”

I smiled at Daddy’s silence. He knew Momma had him over a barrel again, and I walked to the laundry line on clouds. I knew if my daddy saw something in Luke’s way toward me, then there really was something there, and nothing short of pure calamity could ease my elation.

Gemma found me there a few minutes later, a clothespin in my mouth, Momma’s good stockings hanging from my hand. “You daydreamin’ or did a rattler get you?”

Her voice jarred away my pleasant thoughts like she’d shut a door in my face, and I frowned at her to express my displeasure. “Can’t a girl have a little peace and quiet now and again?”

“It’s finally fixin’ to rain,” she said simply, ignoring my complaint.

“Good. We need it.”

“So . . . maybe instead of standin’ here with your head in the clouds . . .” She gave a nod at the laundry basket.

“Oh.” I looked at the sky, and the fat gray cloud above us plopped a raindrop in my eye just to prove Gemma right. I grabbed the laundry basket while Gemma pulled the things off the line. After a minute I said, “I didn’t have my head in the clouds.”

“I guess that’s why I caught you standin’ here all pie-eyed with no work done.”

“If I’d had my head in the clouds, I’d’ve known it was about to rain, wouldn’t I?” I flashed her a challenge with my eyes. “And I ain’t never been pie-eyed in all my born days.”

Gemma opened her mouth to say something, but whether it was my nasty glare or the sudden cloudburst that shut her up, she never uttered the words that had sat on the tip of her tongue.

I took off running as best I could with my arms full of the laundry basket and got beat by Gemma, narrowly squeezing through the door she let slam back at me.

Daddy was staring out the kitchen window, and he turned
to grin at us. “Got a couple drowned rats in here, Sadie. Best get out the traps.”

“Land’s sake, Jessilyn, I sent Gemma out to you so you
wouldn’t
get caught in the rain.” Momma dabbed at both of us with a dishcloth before realizing it was futile. “What were you daydreamin’ for?”

“I wasn’t daydreamin’,” I repeated yet again, even though I was lying through my teeth. I let the basket drop at my feet with a thud. “I was just thinkin’.”

“Thinkin’ and daydreamin’ are near about the same thing, ain’t they?” Gemma asked just to get under my skin.

For days like this, Daddy had hung a line in the kitchen, letting one end lie free, coiled in a circle on the counter until we needed it. I picked up the loose end, strung it across to the far doorway, and wrapped the end around the hook that Daddy had put there. I slid the basket beneath the line and started hanging the wet things. “Near as I can figure, you’d be best off helpin’ me string these up instead of comin’ up with smart things to say.”

Gemma sighed and grabbed a pair of dungarees and two clothespins. I heard the front door slam shut and glanced at Daddy. “Someone’s here.”

“Just me,” Luke called. “Can’t come all the way in ’cause I’m soaked through.”

“Heavens, you’ve been caught in that gully washer?” Momma called back. She ducked under the line and peered around the corner, her mouth turning up when she caught a glance of Luke. “Well, you can’t stay like that, for heaven’s
sake. You’re a sight! Harley, get the boy some of your clothes.”

“No, ma’am, I won’t put you out like that,” Luke said breathlessly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ain’t no man goin’ to catch his death under my roof.”

“Sadie, it’s ninety-five degrees in here. I ain’t figurin’ a man can catch anythin’ in this heat.” Daddy took two strides out of the kitchen, paused for a look at Luke, and headed up the stairs. “Son, you can’t stand there in a puddle till this rain stops. I’ll get you some things.”

“I’ll dry up quick.”

“In a month of Sundays. Now, you just stay put, and I’ll find somethin’ for you.”

Momma took a look at me and Gemma and ordered us upstairs. “You too, girls. You’re good and wet. Go get some dry things on, and I’ll finish this laundry.”

We slogged toward the stairs, pausing for our own look at Luke’s dilemma. Miss Cleta’s sacks sat at his feet, wet and soggy. His clothes were soaked through and his hat was weighed down with puddles, hanging over his eyes almost to the lashes.

“Don’t you think you ought to take your hat off at least?” I asked.

“Can’t without soakin’ your momma’s floor.”

“You’re already turning the front hall into a swimmin’ pool,” Gemma said. “May as well take off the hat.”

I gave her a nudge and then walked over to Luke, reaching up to remove the soaking hat.

“It’ll spill, Jessie,” he argued.

“I’ll be careful.” I took the hat in hand, cautiously tipping the sides up, and kicked the door open at the same time as I grabbed the hat off his head, dumping the water on the porch. “See?” I stood next to him and studied his face. His hair was wet and starting to curl like it did when he sweat, and the ends of his lashes were tipped in water drops. He stared back at me for a few seconds before I reached up and pushed his hair away from his forehead. “Your hair’s soaked.”

Daddy came back downstairs in time to see my affectionate gesture and took the last three steps in one long leap, his boots pounding the floor so hard it made Momma’s knickknacks rattle. “All right, son, just take these clothes here and change. We’ll give you privacy.” He took my arm and fairly shoved me and Gemma toward the stairs. “You girls best get on upstairs and get yourselves dried off.” His words came out fast and hurried, his cheeks lit up with flush. “And don’t you come down here until Luke says he’s done, you hear?”

Momma crossed her arms and loudly whispered, “Harley!”

Daddy looked at Momma sheepishly. “I’m just sayin’ . . .”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes before coming behind me and Gemma. “Come on, girls. We’ll get you good and dry and leave the men to themselves before your daddy has a heart attack.”

We made our way upstairs with me pausing to mutter in a whisper, “I wasn’t goin’ to peek.”

“Heaven knows you weren’t, Jessilyn,” she sighed. “Your daddy just thinks funny sometimes.”

At the doorway to our room, Momma rubbed both of our wet heads and smiled. “Best get yourselves dried off and then I’ll fix you somethin’ to eat.” She turned to leave but stopped short and said, “After Luke’s done changin’, of course.” She left us with a wink and pulled our door shut behind her.

I peeled my clothes off and replaced them with a simple blue dress Momma had helped me make. “Can’t believe Daddy,” I mumbled.

“Daddys are careful about their girls, Jessie.”

I tugged a comb through my hair twice and then stopped to look at Gemma with gleaming eyes. “He thinks Luke’s sweet on me.”

Gemma cocked her eyebrow at me. “He what?”

“I heard him talkin’ to Momma today, and he’s talkin’ like he thinks Luke’s sweet on me.”

“Well, there’s your answer. If he thinks that’s true, then he’s goin’ to be extra strict with you.”

I sat down on the bed and held the comb to my chest like I was cuddling a teddy bear. “What d’you think?”

“’Bout what?”

“’Bout me and Luke, of course. You think he’s sweet on me?”

Gemma finished dressing and plopped down next to me, stealing the comb from my hands so she could finish
straightening my knotted hair. “Know what I think? I think he’s almost as sweet on you as you ever wanted him to be, but he don’t know it. Reckon he’s scared to know it. That’s probably part of why he’s stayin’ away some of late.”

My heart did a somersault into my throat, but I managed to say, “Why’s he scared?”

“’Cause part of him remembers you as just little ol’ Jessilyn, the girl he saved from the swimmin’ hole years ago. It’s got to be hard for him to stop seein’ you as a girl and start seein’ you as a woman.”

My eyes drifted off into the corner where there was nothing but a cobweb, and I’m sure my face was painted with wonder. “Oh,” I managed to murmur.

“’Course, besides that, he knows your daddy’s like to shoot him if he so much as looks at you wrongly.”

“But it ain’t wrong to look at me sweetly.”

“Depends on how your daddy sees it.”

“Ouch!” I grabbed Gemma’s hand as she tugged the comb through a particularly stubborn tangle. “That’ll do. You’re bound to yank my scalp off.”

“Just one more tangle.”

I grabbed a handful of sheets to withstand the pain and groaned. “I don’t think my daddy should think that way about Luke. He’s a gentleman, and he ain’t like to step out of bounds with me.”

“All depends on where your daddy sets the bounds. He’s doin’ the same thing Luke’s doin’, tryin’ to see you as more’n his little girl.”

“But it ain’t my fault I’m growin’ up. It ain’t fair of Daddy to keep me and Luke apart just because he’s nervous.”