Dunaway's Crossing (11 page)

“Thank you,” she said as she placed it on the counter top. She reached for the box of soap powder on the shelf. “The water will be hot in a few minutes. You should get out of those damp clothes,” she said.

“You’re right.” He stepped toward the doorway to the store, then turned to view Bea Dot in the kitchen as well as Netta in the bedroom. Bea Dot poured too much soap into the dish pan. He smiled, then turned his eyes to Netta, who sat at a small table, writing a letter to Ralph, a slight frown of concern across her forehead. Will’s gut flushed with dis-ease at the thought of Netta’s worry for her husband. Then he turned his eyes back to Bea Dot and wondered why she had never even mentioned her own husband back in Savannah.

Bea Dot turned her back to the ledger and leaned on the counter to relieve her aching back and feet. With Will on his mail route, she hustled to assist the flux of customers. California had always said, “All the nuts come out in the rain.” That might have been true in Savannah, but in rural Georgia, everyone came out after the rain, like ants swarming to repair their damaged nest. She hadn’t realized how much effort went into operating a store until she’d taken on the task herself. Now she admired Will’s ability to recognize a need in this rural community and work hard to fill it. The customers who came to the crossing always asked after Will, and their questions spoke of the same admiration for him that she was developing.

She had sold out of coffee and was running low on kerosene. Will would have to make another trip to town to restock, and he’d just come home from Pineview yesterday. She’d mentioned once or twice already that a truck would make his work more efficient, but he’d rejected the suggestion soundly. She knew not to make it again.

Every person so far had tracked in red mud so that Will’s beautiful pine floors looked just like the road outside. At first, Bea Dot occasionally swept up with irritation, but she eventually gave up that battle, hating the idea of the heart pine floors quickly growing dull with wear.

She peered out the window at the rumble of an engine. Several motorcars had passed by, but none had stopped. Customers at the crossing typically arrived on foot or by horseback. Several folks came in asking to call in telegrams. Not knowing whether Will charged for those services, Bea Dot wrote down the messages for Will to call in when he returned. One family had just had a baby. Another—bless their hearts—had lost a son in France. Bea Dot’s chest ached for the heartbroken man who left that message. A third family had canceled a trip to Atlanta. Though she didn’t ask why, she wondered if the flu had any bearing on their decision. Was the outbreak isolated to Pineview? Or had other towns been afflicted as well? Should she and Netta call in a telegram to Aunt Lavinia? She put her hand to her mouth at the next thought: What if Ben caught influenza?

The telephone rang again, interrupting Bea Dot’s musings, so she pushed herself away from the counter and stepped on aching feet to the telephone stand. “Dunaway’s Crossing,” she answered into the mouth piece.

“Bea Dot? Is that you?”

“Yes, yes it is.” Bea Dot frowned. No one who called there knew who she was.

“It’s Ralph calling, Bea Dot.”

“Ralph, it’s so good to hear from you.” Her heart danced with simultaneous relief and excitement “Are you well?”

Netta’s face appeared in the bedroom door, and with her arm Bea Dot beckoned her to the phone. Netta waddled over, anticipation lighting her face. Bea Dot didn’t even hear Ralph’s answer to her questions. “I know someone who wants to talk to you,” she said before Netta grabbed the ear piece and pushed herself in front of the phone, edging Bea Dot out of her way.

“Ralph, oh darling, how are you? I’ve missed you so.”

Bea Dot stepped out to give Netta some privacy, understanding her cousin’s urgency, but also a little annoyed at being pushed aside. Apparently, Ralph had received the letter Will had left for him. Thank goodness he’d called. Maybe now Netta would stop chewing on her lip and sighing into her teacup.

Bea Dot rubbed her lower back as she turned her face to the midday sun. The warmth, combined with the brisk breeze, refreshed her. Her feet still smarting, she stepped over to the log bench in front of the store. “Ooh,” she said as she sat down. Leaning forward relieved her back even more. She stretched out her legs and put her hands on her knees, relishing the welcome ache in her lower back. If this position felt good, would touching her toes feel even better? Could she even do that? She crawled her fingers down her shins, over the hem of her skirt, and across her boot laces until she clutched the tips of her feet. Across her back and down her hamstrings, the tension felt so good that she sat that way for a minute or so, examining a stink bug inching its way into the shadow under the bench.

“Well, ain’t you a nimble thang?”

“Whoop!” Bea Dot almost fell over as the husky voice caught her by surprise. She straightened and shielded her eyes as she looked up at a smiling man towering over her petite frame. At least six feet tall, he was as wide as Santa’s doorway. With wiry blonde hair and a beard to match, he looked exactly the way she’d envisioned Odysseus. His dialect, however, more resembled Huckleberry Finn.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am. I  just ain’t never seen nobody grab they feet like that.”

“It’s quite all right.” Bea Dot stood, her face burning, but not from the sun. Regaining her composure, she replied, “Can I help you?”

The man held out his hand, even though Bea Dot had not offered hers first. “Thaddeus Taylor. I live in the house on the neighboring property. You Miss Netta’s cousin?”

“Yes, I’m Bea Dot Ferguson.” She took his hand, which completely covered hers.

“Pleased to meecha. Will told me y’all was staying here.” He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the area.

“I’m minding the store for Will while he’s delivering mail,” Bea Dot explained. “Do you need anything?”

“Oh, naw, not today.” He waved his big paw like he was swatting away a bee. “Just thought I’d stop by and see how y’all’s doing. I ain’t seen the store since it got up and running. My son Terrence, you know, helped put in the shelving and what not.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Bea Dot replied. “Do come in and see. Netta is talking to her husband on the telephone, but I’ll be happy to show you around.”

He nodded as he followed her through the door. Netta was just hanging up the earpiece. “How’s things in town?” he asked.

“I suppose you should ask my cousin,” Bea Dot said, smiling at Netta. “She has the latest word from Pineview.”

Netta stepped away from the telephone, offering a polite countenance and voice. Still, Bea Dot could tell Ralph had said something to worry her. Netta balled a handkerchief in her fist.

“Why, Thaddeus Taylor, how are you?” she asked. “How is that new baby of yours?” She leaned on the store’s front counter with one hand and put the other behind her back.

“Doing well, Miss Netta, and the baby is fine. Little boy. Named Troy.”

“What a nice, strong name,” Netta said with a faint smile. “Do tell Eliza I’ll look forward to meeting him as soon as I can.”

“I’ll do that,” Thaddeus said.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go lie down.” Netta turned to leave with a stoop in her shoulders.

“Netta, do you feel well?” Bea Dot called after her. “Can I bring you anything?” Did Ralph have bad news? The phone call should have perked Netta up.

Netta held her hand up in refusal as she slowly disappeared into the bedroom.

“She’s close to her time,” Thaddeus said, almost as if he needed to apologize for her. “Bet she’s as tired as a coalman in January.”

“I suppose so.” Bea Dot shook her head in sympathy.

“Well, I’ll be going,” Thaddeus said, turning to the door. “Let you women have some quiet. Tell Will his store looks mighty fine. Mighty fine.”

Just as Bea Dot said goodbye to Thaddeus, two customers arrived. One needed corn meal; the other asked for mouse traps of all things. Bea Dot couldn’t help him with that but assured him she’d ask Will to bring some from Pinevew on his next trip. Eager to see about Netta, Bea Dot almost pushed the customers out of the store.

In the bedroom, Netta sat solemn faced as she rocked slowly and stared out the window onto the lake. Before Ralph’s call, she’d been anxious and nervous, telling Bea Dot how to arrange items on the shelves and sweep the floor. Now she was deflated.

“Tell me about your telephone call.” Bea Dot sat on the end of one bed. She watched Netta’s back as she rocked. Netta remained quiet for so long that Bea Dot wondered if she’d heard the question.

“Netta?”

Netta shook her head slowly. “Mrs. Bradley died last week,” she said quietly. “She was in my sewing circle.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bea Dot’s heart plunged into her stomach. She could have told Netta about that last night.

“Before we came out here, Mr. Bradley came to the house looking for Ralph. He told me Ina was sick, but I thought she’d had a bad cold. If I had only known, I would have sent for Ralph right away.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Bea Dot said. “How could you have known the flu would be so severe?”

Netta kept rocking.

“And Edith Gentry died too. She was the organist at our church. Now her husband is in the hospital.”  Netta turned toward Bea Dot as much as her body would let her. “I thought Ralph was calling us to come home.” Her eyes pooled, and her face pinked. “He was calling to tell me not to worry if I don’t hear from him for a while. He has so little time for telephone calls.” A brief sob escaped from her lips, and Bea Dot took the handkerchief from the night stand and handed it to her cousin.

“But he’s all right, isn’t he?” A flash of frustration shot through Bea Dot. Why did Ralph tell Netta all that bad news?

Netta nodded as she cried into her hanky. Then she took a deep breath and blew her nose. Another minute went by before she spoke again.

“I’m so silly,” she said. “All this time I was worried about him getting enough to eat and getting enough rest.”  She huffed a cynical laugh. “I actually thought Ralph had sent us out here because I was so cautious about the baby.” She rubbed her round belly. “It never occurred to me that he was afraid for our lives.”

“I’m sure he didn’t want to alarm you.”

“Bea Dot, what if Ralph gets sick himself?” Netta’s chin quivered. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”  She wrapped her arms around her middle as if she were lifting a huge ball. “I can’t raise this baby by myself.”

Panic simmered behind Netta’s eyes, and Bea Dot kneeled next to Netta’s rocker and clutched her hands.

“Stop thinking like that,” she said with as much authority as she could muster. “Ralph is counting on you to be brave. He’s doing everything he can to protect himself.” At least she hoped he was. “All of that effort will be for naught if you drive yourself to an early labor with all this worrying.”

Netta straightened, to Bea Dot’s relief. Thank goodness she’d struck a chord.

“You’re right.” Netta inhaled, then sighed. “I must pull myself together and stop behaving like a scared child. Ralph deserves better.”

“That’s the right attitude.” Bea Dot tucked a wayward blonde lock behind Netta’s ear. Then she rose, her knees creaking from kneeling on the hard wood floor. “Maybe you should lie down for a little while.”

“I have this layette to finish,” she replied, shaking her head. “Then I must write to Ralph. A letter from me will do him good.”

Bea Dot smiled, hoping Netta realized the blessings of a husband who returned her love. She sighed and walked tiredly to the back porch, where she lowered herself heavily into one of Will’s rocking chairs, as if she’d absorbed all the weight of Netta’s fears. What if Ralph took sick? What then? And even if he stayed well, how long would this outbreak last? What about all the people coming in and out of the store? Could they bring influenza to the crossing? Would Netta give birth out here in the country? Would Bea Dot have to deliver the baby?

After urging Netta to stop worrying about what ifs, Bea Dot couldn’t help imagining them herself. A chilly breeze whisked through the pines, and Bea Dot shivered. The lake had lost its calming effect. Instead of the soothing laps of the waves, she heard only the repeated rhythmic sound, black, black, black.

Unable to listen anymore, she returned indoors, back to the store front. She shuffled through the telegrams to be called in, the canceled trip, the death announcement. She let them drop to the table.

She wanted Will to come home.

“This old coat wrapped round me tight as Dick’s hat band,” Cal muttered into her chest. She shrugged her shoulders and lowered her head against the bitter October wind. The gusts blew through the tattered wool coat, and the front of her skirt pushed through her legs giving her the appearance of wearing pants. “This chill come up sudden, like God say,
Summer over! Here come fall.
”

Daylight dimmed as she hustled up Jones Street, hoping to reach the Barksdale home before dinner. Mr. David hated to be interrupted while he ate.

“God, don’t take my Matilda,” she muttered on her way. “I done lost my baby. Done lost my mama. Even Miss Bea Dot gone away. All I got now is my Tilda and her two girls. Don’t take ‘em now.”