Halley (15 page)

Her grandfather caught her at the edge of the yard. “Hold up, young lady,” he bellowed. “You’re not getting out of my sight. You done proved you can’t be trusted.”

Walking as fast as she could, Halley let him rant until he was so out of breath he could not talk. When they passed the church, Halley saw Theodora Langford’s truck parked off to one side. Theodora had her camera set to photograph the cemetery with its leaning stones and wooden crosses.

“Reckon you aim to turn out like her,” Pa Franklin said, jerking his head toward the photographer.

“I could do worse,” Halley answered, “and it would be a pure relief to quit worrying about what people say.”

Her grandfather made no reply, but by the time they reached the cut off to the Franklin place, he had started preaching again. “You can forget about going to the store anymore,” he said, stopping at the mailbox. He reached in and came out empty handed. Halley rejoiced in his disappointment that the CCC check still hadn’t come.

“You can’t be trusted to go to Belton,” he went on.

“Fine with me,” Halley said.

“You’re not going to the Calvins no more either.”

“Fine.” Halley didn’t want to see the Calvins any more—not after they’d seen her humiliated by both her grandfather and Richard.

When they reached the edge of the Franklin yard, Halley saw her grandmother waiting at the kitchen window. The old lady’s eyes were red and her entire body downcast. For a moment Halley forgot her own anger and embarrassment.

“Don’t fuss on Grandma anymore,” she begged. “I’ll take all the blame.”

“Ain’t you free-hearted?” her grandfather said sarcastically. “You’ll take whatever blame I say. You ain’t the boss around here.” He swung around toward the pasture where Halley suddenly realized Robbie and Golly were running. Robbie had the keep-away rope in his hand, holding it out behind him. The two behaved as though racing the wind, their feet barely touching the ground. Then Golly wheeled about and spotted his master. He halted at once and his tail drooped. Suddenly he was an old dog again.

“How many times do I have to tell that boy to leave Golly be?” Pa Franklin said. “He’s turning my guard dog into a lap pet.” Cupping his hands to his mouth, he bellowed, “You, boy! Git to the house.”

On entering the kitchen Halley saw her mother had returned. Kate was starting supper. With a fresh audience, Pa Franklin found a new burst of indignation. “Your daughter went out strollicking. Good thing I went after her,” he said. “This girl here was hugged up to that boy that puts out the bedspread work.”

“Mr. Bonner’s son,” Halley explained. “We were only dancing.”

Kate said nothing and neither did Ma Franklin.

“Dancing?” Pa Franklin mocked. “Oh, is
that
what they call it now?”

“
You
danced when you were young,” Halley said, “and you raced horses and . . .” She broke off at the sight of her grandmother’s face. She’d gotten her grandmother into deeper trouble. Pa Franklin turned on his wife.

“You been running your mouth,” he said. At that moment Robbie burst into the kitchen and went straight to Halley. Digging into his pocket, he brought out two letters and handed them to her.

Before Halley could look at what she held, Pa Franklin snatched them from her hand.

“’Bout time that CCC check come,” he said, slapping that letter on the table. “What!” he said. “Why’s that Berry woman writing?”

“That’s
my
mail,” Halley protested as her grandfather ripped it open. “Mama, tell him he has no right.”

Kate said nothing.

Her grandfather pulled out a folded sheet of paper and let the envelope flutter to the floor. Halley snatched it up. The return address said Berry Schools! Martha Berry had answered her. Was the answer “yes” or “no”? In her eagerness to know, she forgot her mother and grandmother. She tried to look at the letter as her grandfather read, but he pushed her away.

“Are they going to accept me?” she begged.

Pa Franklin wadded the letter and tossed it into the wood box. “Oh, she wants to accept you all right.”

Halley was joyful. “She does? She really does?”

“That old maid can
accept
you
all she wants and it won’t make no difference. You’re staying right here just like Gid when she wanted to take
him
. You ain’t going nowhere but to the well or the barn. I’ve been entirely too easy on all of you. Well, I’m through being easy. For one thing, that piano is going out of this room.” He looked around as though for some other privilege to take away. His eyes fell on the water bucket. “We need some water.”

Turning, Halley grabbed her letter out of the wood box and then she got the water bucket. Robbie was right behind her as she headed through the dogtrot.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know he would take your letter.”

“Then you’re stupid,” Halley said, setting the water bucket on the well housing and then heading for the main road.

“Please don’t go away,” said Robbie, still right behind her.

Halley turned on him. “Don’t follow me,” she yelled.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. And she didn’t. She only knew she had to get away from this place.

19. A Time to Choose

By the time Halley got to the county road she remembered Theodora. If only the woman was still at the church. She broke into a run. The wintry sunshine was sending long shadows across the road. A cold wind was picking up, making her clutch her coat against her chest. The coat stretched taut across her shoulders, and the frayed sleeves were too short. She blushed when she remembered that Richard had seen this coat. And she had actually thought he was
interested
in her.

“Idiot!” she said to herself. The Calvin girls had always said he was a big flirt, and that meant he tried to charm all the girls. She was nothing special. Why had she allowed herself to think she was? Because, she suddenly realized, she needed to be special to
somebody
. Nobody except her father had ever singled her out and made her feel above the crowd. All it took was a little attention from Richard, and she lost all the common sense she’d always taken pride in.

The church came into sight and Theodora was still there, but not for long. She was taking her camera off its tripod.

“Didn’t I see you pass a little while ago?” Theodora asked when Halley drew near.

Halley nodded. “With my grandfather. I guess you could hear him pitching a fit at me.”

“He’s a minister, right?” said Theodora, opening the door to the house on the back of her truck.

“Yes,” Halley answered, “and he’s against dancing and about anything else that’s fun or that he’s too old to enjoy.”

Theodora slid her camera into the little house. “So you live with your grandparents?”

Halley nodded. “Mama thought she had to after Daddy died.”

Theodora motioned her inside. “Come in out of the wind.”

Halley entered. The room had a narrow bed, a tiny table, and one chair. Shelves in back were stacked with clothing, books, cooking utensils, camera supplies, and food stuff. Boxes of goods were stored under the bed and hung from the low ceiling in bags. Two small windows provided a bit of light. The place smelled of stale cigarette smoke. Except for that and being very cold, however, it seemed the kind of place Halley would like to retreat to when things grew unbearable in the Franklin household.

“Have a seat,” said Theodora, indicating the only chair in the room.

A sudden gust of wind shook the truck and crept in around the door. Halley shivered. “How do you stay in here without heat? And how do you cook?”

“When cold weather started, I rented a room at a boarding house in Belton. As for cooking, I don’t do any more of that than I can help even when the weather’s good, and when I do cook, I do it outside, over a campfire.”

Halley looked at the stack of photographs on the table. She recognized the top one at once. “The rolling store in Alpha Springs,” she said. “There’s Billy Shropshire weighing a chicken and Mollie Freeman frowning at the whole world.”

“Look at all of them, if you wish,” Theodora said. “I’ll get you some light.” She took a kerosene lamp out of a box beneath the bed. From another she took out a globe. Moments later the lamp was lit.

Halley looked at the pictures one by one, pausing long at the people and places she recognized. She studied the rolling store pictures and found Dimple in the background of one.

She came to the revival photos made at the Alpha Springs Methodist Church. There were pictures of Tate Shropshire’s store in Belton. One showed mill workers eating lunch out in front of the store. Another photo showed high school students leaving the big two-story brick building where Halley had planned to study.

She came to a photo of Bootsie smoking a cigarette and smiling up at Stan. Halley thought she could detect the desperate effort the girl was making to win and hold him. You could almost see Bootsie’s vision of what her life would be with this young man. And it was all a lie. Like me when I was dancing with Richard, she thought, and felt her face grow hot.

“Beautiful girl,” said Theodora, leaning over Halley’s shoulder to gaze at Bootsie.

Halley nodded. “She’s married—I mean, going to marry—my Uncle Gid.”

There were pictures of Belton Mill with its high brick walls and the tall fence surrounding it. “Looks like a jail,” Halley murmured.

“Exactly what I was trying to convey,” answered Theodora. “You are perceptive.”

Halley wanted to ask what “perceptive” meant but didn’t want to expose her ignorance. She continued studying the photos. One showed workers streaming in through the gate early in the morning. Another showed them streaming out at the end of the work day, covered with lint. Halley found her mother in the crowd. It must have been right after Kate hired on. Haggard and worried-looking, she had her hair pulled so tightly into its bun that her ears seemed to stand out. For the first time Halley realized that her mother no longer looked that way—not since Bud Gravitt had been calling on her. Now her hair swept halfway over her ears before being pulled back into a loose bun.

Halley forced herself to go to the next photo—a close-up of the gatekeeper. The man’s face was angry and his mouth open. He pointed an accusing finger at the camera. In the next the hand was a fist.

“Some people don’t want to see things the way they are,” Theodora murmured. “They don’t want
you
to see them either. You know, there are things people just don’t see, until a photographer shows them.”

It was true, Halley reluctantly admitted. Just like she had failed to see how much her mother had changed in such a short time. The next photo was apparently another lunch crowd. Even though the trees outside the mill were bare, some people stood about eating.

“I guess they’re willing to take being cold for a few minutes of fresh air and freedom,” Theodora said.

Halley studied the photo, looking without success for her mother or Bootsie. Then a truck just outside the gate caught her eye. It was Bud Gravitt’s truck, and Bud Gravitt was in it. There was a woman sitting beside him. A pretty, laughing woman who looked so young and happy that for a moment Halley could not believe it was her mother.

Halley felt betrayed and angry all over again. She was angry that her mother could be that happy in the company of a man other than her father. But the anger went further, she suddenly realized. How could her mother be that joyful when Halley herself was miserable?

“I’m so glad for your mother,” said Theodora.

“I’m not,” Halley said. She flipped back through the photographs until they all became one picture of the Georgia mountain people—her people. Seeing the people in Alpha Springs and the people in Belton, seeing farm people and mill people, seeing the ragged schoolchildren and the church congregations through this stranger’s eyes, made Halley see everything differently, made her realize more fully than ever how hungry and poor they all were.

“Why do you do this?” she couldn’t help asking. “Taking pictures like this, I mean? Do you make a lot of money?”

Theodora laughed. “Not so far. But I have hopes.” She grew serious. “This is art, Halley, and artists don’t generally make much money. They have to love what they’re doing. I’m documenting a time and place. You might say I’m doing a history in pictures. Someday a hundred years from now people can look at these and know about these people. That’s better than money.”

“How do your folks take it, you living by yourself in this rolling house and traveling all over?” Halley blurted.

Theodora laughed. “Not too well, actually. Even up where I’m from people expect a woman to do housework, get married, and have babies—you know, stay in her place.”

Halley nodded. “So how do you get away from all that and do what
you
want to do?”

Theodora pondered the question. Then she said, “You just refuse to live the life other people lay out for you. But there’s a price to pay when you don’t go by the rules. Nothing’s fair and nothing’s free. Make up your mind to that.”

Halley laughed. “Oh, I know that already,” she said, reaching into her pocket. “Here’s what I want. It’s my chance for a different life.” She handed her crumpled Berry letter to Theodora. While the woman leaned close to the lamp and read, Halley rubbed her cold hands together. Her fingers were rough and cracked and her fingernails ragged.

“This is wonderful!” said Theodora. “Of course you are going to this school.”

Halley shook her head and swallowed hard. “They won’t let me. My mother, my grandparents. And I’m not old enough to say what I want.”

Theodora put her hand on Halley’s arm. “But you
will
be. If you can just hang on, there’ll come a time when you can choose and they can’t stop you.”

“How long do you plan to be around here?” Halley asked.

“Maybe until summer,” said Theodora. “I’ve got a few more photographs to make. I want pictures of a wedding, a funeral, a newborn baby. And maybe spring planting.”

“Wish I could go with you when you leave,” Halley said.

“You know, I think you’d be good company. But you’re a minor. They’d put me under the jail if I tried to take you.”

“I know. I was only thinking out loud,” Halley said quickly. She stood so abruptly that she rocked the table. The lamp teetered, and yellow circles of lamplight danced across the walls and ceiling.

Theodora stood and put a hand on Halley’s arm. “Let your mother marry again,” she said. “This is what she wants to choose. Don’t take her choice away. Besides, her marrying again could free you.”

Halley folded her letter and put it back in her pocket. “I’ve got to go.” She went out into the twilight and did not look back. She heard the truck crank up a few minutes later, and as she turned by the Franklin mailbox, it passed by her. The horn tooted and Halley raised a hand without turning.

The wind was whipping the apple trees in the orchard. Then she saw a figure standing at the edge of the yard. It was Robbie and Golly was beside him. Suddenly he started running to meet her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, throwing his arms around her. “About your letter, I mean. I didn’t think . . .”

Halley patted him. “I know. But you have to start thinking. I won’t always be here to do your thinking for you.”

“Pa Franklin rolled my piano into his room.”

Halley shrugged. “Well, he wouldn’t let you play it anyway.”

“I drew the water,” he said. “I told them I brought it in for you, that you went to the far room. Only Mama went back there and found out the truth. She didn’t say nothing, but I think she’s mad.”

Well, I can bear it, Halley thought. Theodora was right—there
would
come a time when she could choose and would not have to obey anybody. Her real life—the one she would choose herself—was waiting for her.