Finding Home (5 page)

“
Are you
gonna make me stay in bed the rest of my life?”

“
Nope,” replied Phoebe. “After you eat you’re gonna get a nice hot bath.”

Willie-Boy made a face.
“I don’t feel dirty.”

“
You don’t feel sick, either, but you are. Don’t go stubborn on me, Willie-Boy. I’m gettin’ enough of that from the Morgans.”

“
I wanna go fishin’. You said if we got anywhere near water I could go fishin’. There’s water every which way here.”

“
Phoebe!”

“
Maydean, don’t come up yellin’ in my ear like that.”

“
There’s a color television in the living room. It works.”

“
I told you to clean the bathroom, not to go snoopin’ into closets and such!” Phoebe was saving the prying and poaching of the house for herself. She could do it better. She didn’t like Maydean breaking ground first.

“
It ain’t in no closet. It’s sittin’ on a table, big as life. Dorie turned it on. Can I sit with her?”

Phoebe debated silently. She wanted to view the rest of the house.
Just a look-see for now. The place she wanted her imprint on first was the kitchen. If she got her aura set there, why it’d just naturally follow her into every other room. But she had to be delicate about it. If Maydean was in the living room, why it stood to reason, she’d have to look in on her there. To make sure Maydean wasn’t getting into anything she shouldn’t.

“
If you can get Dorie to the kitchen table with her face washed and hair combed to eat some soup then I reckon the both of you can watch television.”

“
If I can’t go fishin’ I wanna watch TV,” announced Willie-Boy.

“
Maybe after a bit I’ll carry you in there,” Phoebe agreed.

“
I can walk.”

Her mouth drew down at the corners.
“You can’t. And that’s a fact. You want to watch TV, I’ll carry you.”

Speaking of carrying reminded Phoebe of the suitcases still out in the truck. It might look alarming if she toted them all in at the same time. She
’d have to condense to get toothbrushes, pajamas and fresh clothes into the house. She picked up the bed tray. “You just let that food go down good, Willie-Boy. A nap won’t hurt you none. After that you can have a bath, fried doughnuts and TV.”

“
You promise?”

“
No. It ain’t our house. I can’t promise nothin’. I’m just sayin’.”

“
If it was our house, would you promise?”

“
If it was our house, I’d let Ma answer your ever-lastin’ questions.”

“
I wish Ma was here. She loves me. I’m her best boy.” His eyes got wet, his mouth began to quiver.

Homesick, Phoebe surmised.
“I got an idea. While you’re restin’ you be thinkin’ of somethin’ to say to Ma. I’ll write it in a letter. Now, I got things to do.” Weighted with the tray and problems needing solving, Phoebe hurried back to the kitchen. Gage Morgan was standing at the stove, peering into the soup pot.

Lor! The good cooking smells worked faster than she
’d anticipated. “You set to the table,” she said, “I’ll fix you a plate.”

Gage lifted his eyes to her, his expression bland.
“This made out of my rotten potatoes?”

Phoebe cleared her throat.
“I cut the bad spots out. They weren’t so bad as I first supposed.”

“
I do my eating in town,” he informed her, seeming to peer beyond Phoebe as if she didn’t exist.

Plans goin
’ awry! Phoebe knew no way a woman could get a man if he wouldn’t sit still. “Seems to me it’d be a fair waste of good money to pay for ready-cooked food in a restaurant when you got home fixin’s in your own clean kitchen.” She began setting the table with the dishes she’d washed. “Your daughter, Dorie, commented she liked doughnuts. I’m fryin’ some up soon’s the batter rises. It’s the least I can do for her, you lettin’ us stay here and all.” Moving around the table, Phoebe kept him in a corner of her vision. “Which is your chair?” She went to the stove, dipped up a bowl of soup. “Where you want it? There’s corn bread, too. In the oven, stayin’ warm.”

Gage stared at her with a catlike stillness about his lean, hard frame. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that Phoebe was right. He
’d waste both time and money going out to eat. Even so, the girl’s insouciance was insupportable...on the other hand, he hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in months.

Phoebe watched his mouth alter shape, losing its hard stern line as if to smile. She opened her mouth to speak, but Gage walked on through and out of the kitchen into the house proper. She put the bowl on the table. Dipping up another cup of soup, she stood at the sink sipping on it. The best she
’d ever made, she thought, staring out the window. This time no mindscape of visions came to her. No pictures of Ma or Pa or Erlene. The best-tasting soup she’d ever made sank like lead into her stomach.

Chair legs scraping the linoleum intruded upon her thoughts, grated on her nerves. She turned to chastise Maydean who had the bad habit of yanking chairs about and had to bite her tongue to keep the words from flying out.

Gage Morgan had taken his place at the table and was pulling the brimming bowl of soup toward him. His cap of dark curly hair had been wetted and combed, his hands washed. Phoebe approved. It showed he had respect for the cook. A body on the alert for such could do a lot with respect, reckoning her alertness to be greater than if she’d been anticipating the effects of a double dose of castor oil.

“
You like corn bread?” she asked, speaking up to cover the sudden quaking of nerve endings that were stimulating excitement in parts of her best ignored.

“
Sure do.”

Phoebe sliced two generous pieces and put great dollops of butter on each.
“Didn’t know about tea,” she said. “There’s ice water or milk.” He chose water. Once he was eating steadily, she left him alone. Most men didn’t like to be bothered when eating. Pa was like that. He hated having to swallow fast so as to make room for words.

She checked the plumpness of the sweet dough and set grease to heating in an iron skillet, moving from sink to pantry to stove as if being in his kitchen was the most ordinary of things. She fried a test batch of doughnuts. When they were nicely browned she drained them on paper and sprinkled them with sugar.
“Some folks aren’t up to sweets directly they’ve eaten,” she said. “Which is it with you?”

“
I’ll try one.”

She placed several on a plate. Gage ate them every one. Phoebe was proud to bursting. She had to turn away lest he see the happiness overtaking her.

“You folks on welfare or what?” Gage asked.

Phoebe spun around. Her jaw dropped.
“Welfare! I ain’t. We ain’t. Were your ears plugged when I told you Hawleys don’t take to charity? We’re workers.” She felt like thumping him on his back to get the doughnuts up.

“
Don’t get riled,” Gage said, feeling mellow on account of his full stomach. “I was just curious.”

“
That kind of curiosity ain’t polite.”

He arched a brow.
“You’re in my house. I don’t know you from Johnny Appleseed. For all I know you could clean me out the minute my back’s turned.”

Phoebe puffed up.
“I come from good Christian stock. We ain’t never stole so much as a nickel. For people, you won’t find none better than a Hawley.” Her look dared him to counter the truth of that.

“
Where exactly do you come from?”

“
Cottontown. Up north. Afore we got to Cottontown Hawleys worked in paper mills in Alabama and Florida. Afore that Hawleys worked in sawmills, afore—”

Gage rolled his eyes and held up a hand. Phoebe clamped her mouth shut.
Talkin’ too much. It was nerves, sure as sunup ‘n sundown.

“
Where were you headed when we had the fender bender?”

“
I was headed for work,” she said adroitly. “Like as not the folks won’t save my job, seeing as how I’ve been held up.”

“
You can use the phone in the living room to call if you want,” Gage offered.

“
Better not. It’d be long distance. Thank you for offerin’.” She put another batch of dough to frying. “I could write ‘em, though. If you got a stamp I could buy.”

“
There’s some in my desk.”

Phoebe didn
’t know where his desk was. But it seemed he was giving her free reign ‘n trust to hunt it up. “I set Maydean to cleanin’ the bathroom. You mind if I sponge Willie-Boy off? I’m worried he’ll take to gettin’ feverish if I don’t. And if you’ll tell me where you keep your wash tub, I’ll rinse out the sheets off the bed in the mornin’. Leave ‘em fresh, like we found ‘em.”

Gage moved to the door.
“There’s a washer and dryer in the storeroom off the back porch.”

“
Washer and dryer? You mean electric?”

“
Electric,” he said, studying her hard for a moment.

Lor! Phoebe was thinking, dirt and
all, the house was a treasure trove of good things. A color television, a refrigerator with a light, a no-work washing machine, a pantry filled with food. “God has sure been good to you,” she said.

“
I could debate that. You cook whatever you want for supper.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Appreciate you cleaning up the mess.”

From inside the screened door, Phoebe watched him step off the porch and onto the path to the welding shed. Cook whatever she wanted for supper! If she was the swooning type, she reckoned she
’d’ve done it right then. She didn’t know what time Gage Morgan figured on eating supper, but it was plain he meant for her to be in his house to cook it. And tight-fisted as he was, he had manners, thanking her like that. Of course, the way he inspected and commented on a woman’s body was scandalous. But a woman of virtue could lift a man out of wicked thoughts. Like as not a woman of virtue could coax a man to keep all his thoughts above the neck.

Phoebe counted herself among the most
virtuous of women that God ever had a hand in creating. Absolutely. She had never once dropped her drawers for a man. Never would either, unless...well, she would never be so stupid as to thwart the course of true love.

She went onto the porch and stared up into the noonday sun until a kaleidoscope of colors blocked out true vision. Prudence, temperance and fortitude swelled within her. Being noble was doing God
’s work, certain, she thought. Ma would be so proud.

“
Whatcha doing standing out in the sun like that, Phoebe? You know it makes your freckles pop out.”

What with feeling so fine spirited, Phoebe didn
’t like being reminded of earthly flaws. “I was prayin’ over your food, Maydean, so you won’t choke to death. The way you gobble I figured I’d better get as close to God as I could.” Dorie was on Maydean’s heels. Her face and hands were clean, her hair brushed into some order. The smell of fried doughnuts worked wonders. “Dish up soup for yourself and Dorie. Afterward you wash dishes. Dorie can dry.”

“
I hate doin’ dishes. I’m tryin’ to let my fingernails grow.”

“
If you’re worried about your nails, Maydean, soon as I can lay my hands on a pair of pliers, I can pluck ‘em out.”

“
I’m goin’ to tell Ma how mean you been bein’ to me.” She thrust out her lower lip.

Phoebe eyed Dorie who was listening hard. She didn
’t want much mention of Ma and Pa and Erlene just yet. “We’re G. G. Morgan’s guests. Proper manners require us to wash up. Do a nicely neat job of it and I won’t make you help me with the washin’. You can watch TV with Dorie and Willie-Boy.”

Maydean kept her pout, but moved to the stove. Satisfied, Phoebe went to inspect the washer and dryer.

The laundry room had
its own dusty four-paned window. Daylight streaming through revealed a copper-colored washer with a matching dryer. Long-dirty clothes and linens were piled atop both machines. Phoebe tsk-tsked. Along the opposite wall was another chest of white enamel. A Sears and Roebuck freezer. Phoebe put her hand on it and closed her eyes. It was empty no doubt. She lifted the lid and felt a blast of cold air. She opened her eyes and looked. Full!

There were packa
ges upon packages labeled flounder and steak, whole chickens with plump thighs and breasts. Ground beef, stew meat, green peas, lima beans, ice cream.
Ice cream!
Phoebe kept rummaging and looking until her fingers were so cold she had to blow on them for warmth. Lor! A body would never go hungry in Gage Morgan’s house. She discounted the dire manner he had toward women. Her estimation of him went up. Oh! This afternoon while clothes were drying on the line she’d sit down and write home. Ma had been beside herself fretting that she’d have to swallow dignity and Hawley pride to go stand in line for food stamps. And sneak to do so since Pa was so against it. Phoebe could relieve her of that worry. She lifted out a fat chicken to thaw for supper.