Memories of Another Day (50 page)

"Yes. I promised myself I would come back before I went home." I reached into the back seat and picked up my sleeping bag. "I planted flowers/' I said, getting out of the car.

"Eight o'clock tomorrow morning," she said. "I'll be here to pick you up. Don't be late. You promised your mother you would be home in time for the wedding."

Mother and Jack were to be married at our house tomorrow evening. Judge Paul GitHn, to whom Jack had once been law clerk, was coming up from the city to perform the ceremony. "I won't be late," I said, slinging the sleeping bag's straps over my shoulders.

"Do you have everything you need?" she asked.

I smiled. "I've got my toothbrush. It's only overnight, Christina."

I waited until the white Rolls disappeared over the crest of the hill, then crossed the highway and went over the fence and down the embankment on the other side. She had a reservation for the night in a motel the other side of Fitchville. This time I didn't have to search for the path. I knew the way.

It took me less than an hour to reach the small cemetery at the top of the knoll. Betty May had been as good as her word. The flowers were planted neatly around its borders and between the graves, their bright reds, yellows, blues and purples smiling at the sky. I stood there for a long moment. Somehow it didn't seem lonely and forgotten anymore.

I looked down the hill. The naked stalks of the cornfield were dancing in the afternoon breeze. A faint wisp of smoke came from the small chimney of the house, and the pickup truck was still dusty in front of the doon

While I was watching, Jeb Stuart came out of the house and stood on the front steps, looking around. He looked up at the knoll and saw me, his eyes squinting against the sun. I waved to him. His face broke into a grin as he recognized me, and he waved back. I started down the knoll, and he opened the door.

His voice floated back to me on the wind. *'Betty May! Jonathan's back!''

She came into the doorway behind him and stood there, waving and smiling. Something about her looked different, but it wasn't until I drew close that I knew what it was. She was slimmer than when I had left; the big belly was gone.

Jeb Stuart came down the steps and pumped my hand enthusiastically. ''Howdy, Jonathan, howdy."

I smiled at him. "It's real good to see you, Jeb Stuart."

''We been expectin' you like any day," he said. "I thought you might have forgot us."

**No way," I said. I looked past him at Betty May. *'Congratulations. Do I get a chance to kiss the pretty mother?"

*'You shore do," he said.

I went up the steps and kissed Betty May on the cheeks. ''You look beautiful. Is she as pretty as you are?"

Betty May blushed. ''How'd you know it was a girl?"

''I knew," I said. "But you didn't answer my question."

''She shore is," Jeb said. "She's the spit an' image of her maw. Come an' see for yourself."

I followed them into the cabin. It was more like a small home now. There were chintz curtains on the windows, the wooden furniture had been cleaned ^id painted, there was a large ceiling-to-floor drape that screened off the sleeping area from the rest of the house and new hurricane oil lamps were on the table and on the tops of the wooden chests.

Betty May pulled back the drape. "There she is," she said proudly.

The baby was lying in an old-fashioned homemade crib cut from half of a whiskey barrel. It had been painted white and was supported on either end by two-by-fours. I bent over the crib. Her little red face was screwed up monkeylike in sleep, her hands gripped into tiny fists, her almost white hair made it seem as if she were bald. "She sure is pretty," I said. "How old is she?"

"Six weeks now," Betty May said. "She came the day we finished harvestin'."

"It was almost like she knowed not to come until Betty May had finished helpin' with the work," Jeb Stuart said.

"Have you named her yet?" I asked.

"We been thinkin'. But we ain't decided yet. We want to take her down to Fitchville an' get her rightly baptized," Betty May said. "We jes' call her Baby."

I smiled. "That's good enough. I brought a present for her." I went back to the door and unrolled my sleeping bag. Inside it was the box Christina had bought for me in a shop on Worth Avenue. I gave the box to Betty May.

"You hadn't oughter done it," Betty May said.

"Open it," I said.

Carefully she took the paper from the box. "This paper's so pretty I'm goin' to save it," she said shyly as she lifted the cover. Inside was a complete layette —dress, hat, socks, booties, sheets, blanket and pillow, all in pink. Betty May looked at me, then back at the layette. "It's so beauttful. I never seen nothin' like it."

"It's for her to wear at her baptism," I said.

Jeb Stuart had been standing there silently. He touched my arm and I turned to him. "Betty May an' me ain't too good with words, but we want you to know that we're moughty grateful to you, Jonathan."

"That's right, Jonathan," Betty May said. Just then a cry came from the crib. Betty May turned quickly. "It's her feeding time. She's like an alarm clock."

I followed Jeb outside as she went to the crib. We sat down on the steps. "Everything go all right?" I asked.

"Jes' fine," he said. "The crop was real good. I jes' drew the bead off the mash an' barreled it. There's thirty barrels of top com up there right now agin' natural style m wood. I kin sell it right now fer a hundred a barrel. If n I hold it until next spring I kin git maybe double that or more."

"What are you going to do?"

"I been thinkin' maybe I'll sell off ten barrels. That should take us through the winter, an' next spring sell off the rest."

"That makes sense," I said. I took out a package of cigarettes, offered him one, then held a match for the two of us. "Hear anything more from the sheriff?"

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He shook his head. "Not a word. I thought maybe he'd be comm' on by, but he never did."

''Did he quash that warrant in town Uke he said?"

"I guess so," he answered. "But it don't matter none now. My ol' wife got herself a divorce up at the county seat an' married up with some storekeeper. So I figger when we go into Fitchville to git the baby baptized, me an' Betty May kin git hitched proper."

"It's all working out, isn't it?" I said smiling.

"Yep," he said. "But none of it would have if it weren't for you bein' here when the sheriff showed up."

"That's over now," I said.

"Plannin' on stay in' awhile?" he asked.

"Only overnight. I'm leaving early in the morning. I have to be home tomorrow night."

"Maybe you kin come back for the baptizin'. Me an' Betty May would be right proud if you would be Baby's godfather."

There was a sudden tightness in my throat. "I'd be honored. You just give me the date and I'll be here."

Betty May came out of the door behind us. "I'll have supper ready in a half-hour."

"That's jes' fine." Jeb Stuart got to his feet. "Want to take a quick look at the still?"

I nodded. We followed the almost invisible path through the small forest. It was just as I remembered it. Only one thing was dififerent. The small wooden barrels were stacked neatly against the cords of wood. Carefully Jeb Stuart drew a long tarpaulin over the barrels.

"Don't want the wood to get damp," he explained.

I walked over to the small stream and scooped a handful of water from it and ran it over my face. The water was cool and sweet.

"Next year when I git the money I'm goin' to pipe that water down to the cabin," Jeb said.

"That's a good idea." I walked back to the still. The

daylight was beginning to fade. I saw the shelves built against the wall of the small open shed behind the still. "My grandfather used to keep a gun up there on the top shelf."

Jeb Stuart stared at me. "How do you know that?''

I shrugged. "I just know."

He walked over to the shelves and reached up to the top shelf. "So do I," he said. "But he never had a gun like this."

I stared at the automatic rifle, the clip already locked in place. " Where'd you get a gun like that?"

"A friend of mine was in Vietnam. I bought it fer ten dollars with four clips of ammunition. They's thirty rounds in each of these clips," He held the rifle down and turned swiftly. "Brrrr-p! One quick squeeze kin cut a man in half."

I didn't speak.

"Ain't no hijackers goin' to git this whiskey," he said.

I felt a chill. "Let's go back."

"Okay." He returned the gun to the shelf and we started down the hill.

Supper was boiled smoked cally, greens and beans. Hot com muffins and steaming black coffee finished it off, Betty May apologized. "I'm rightfully sorry we didn't have somethin' better fer supper fer you, but we ain't been down to Fitchville since the baby was bom."

"There was nothing the matter with this supper," I said. "It was real good." I picked up my sleeping bag. "I think I'll get some sleep now. I have to be back on the highway early."

"You don't have to go out in the comfield," Jeb Stuart said. "You kin sleep right here on the floor now that we got the curtain up."

"It's okay," I said.

"No, it ain't," Betty May said firmly. "It ain't summer no more an' the groun' is too cold and damp. You'll catch your death."

"You heard the lady." Jeb Stuart smiled. "You spread your bag out there on the floor near the stove where it's warm."

I didn't realize how tired I was until I crawled into the sleeping bag and the warmth from the stove hit me. I closed my eyes and was asleep before I knew it.

I felt the hand on my shoulder and opened my eyes. Jeb was kneeling over me. I could barely see him in the gray tinge of light just before dawn. He put a finger on his lips so that I should remain silent. I sat up suddenly wide awake.

"There's about five men and a pickup truck about a mile down the road," he whispered.

"Who are they?"

"Dimno. Could be revenooers, could be hijackers. I jes' heered some strange noises an' went to check it out."

"What are they doing down there?"

"Right now, nothin'. They seem to be jes' standin' aroun' an' waitin' fer someone."

"Think it's the sheriff?"

"Could be. I'm takin' no chances. We all movin' up to the still. Ain't nobody but us knows where that is."

I crawled out of the sleeping bag and put on my shoes. I had been sleeping in my clothes. Across the room, Betty May had already wrapped the baby in some blankets.

She turned to us. Her voice was calm. "The baby's ready."

Jeb nodded. "We'll go out th'u the back window. No sense takin' chances, case they got somebody watchin' the front door already."

We moved across the room to the window. Carefully Jeb opened it. "You go out first," he told me. "Betty May will give you the baby."

I went through the window. The crack-of-dawn chill bit into me. I turned and Betty May gave me the baby.

A moment later she was beside me, and Jeb came through the window as she took the baby back into her arms.

*'Keep youah heads down," Jeb whispered as he reached back into the window and lifted out his long hunting rifle. ''We go out behin' the cornfield an' then up the hill. Follow me."

Bending half over, we began to run behind the cornfield. We reached the edge of the forest just as the gray of dawn cracked the sky and the first pink of the sun came from the east.

We started up the path. I saw how heavily Betty May was breathing and held out my arms for the baby. She shook her head grimly and continued on up the path.

Jeb dropped back to me. ''Y'all go on. I'm jes' goin' back a li'l way to mess the ground up a little. I don' want them trackin' us."

I nodded. He dropped back down the hill and we went on up to the still. At the heavy clump of bushes that concealed the still, Betty May dropped to her knees. "You go through the bushes first. I'll han' the baby to you."

I went through the bushes and turned around. She placed the child in my hands, then came through herself. She took the baby back almost immediately, and we went into the underhang of the Side of the hill against the shelves. She sat down, cradling the baby in her arms.

''Are you all right?" I asked.

She nodded. "Right fine, thank you." She seemed as calm and polite as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. There was a small cry from the baby. She moved quickly, opening her blouse. "She's hungry, poor thing," she crooned. "She wants her breakfast titty."

I watched the baby clamp hungry lips around the flushed, swollen nipple. She began to suck with

smacking, slurping sounds. I felt the tears begin to come to my eyes and turned away. I got to my feet and took a deep breath. Beauty seemed so out of place in this morning.

There was a sound in the bushes and Jeb Stuart came through them. He paused for a moment, looking down at Betty May and the baby, then reached up to the top shelf and took down the automatic rifle he had shown me yesterday. He broke away the clip, checked it, then locked it back on the rifle. He glanced at me. ''It's the sher'f.''

''Sure?" I asked.

He nodded. "I saw his private car. He's not up here on official business."

"How do you know that?"

"He ain't in uniform. An' if he was bringin' reven-ooers they would have picks an' axes with 'em. He come here fer the 'shine." He reached up to the shelf and took down three more cartridge clips and shoved them into the pockets of his shirt. "I knew it was too good to last," he said bitterly.

"Maybe he won't find us," I said.

"He'll fin' us," he said flatly. "He come all prepared. He brought the dogs with 'im. When I saw that, I didn't even bother coverin' the tracks."

I looked at Betty May. She was still feeding the baby, seemingly oblivious to our conversation. I turned back to him. "What are they doing now?"

"They was walkin' up the road to the house when I started back here," he said.

"Maybe if I went down and talked to them?"

"They'll kill you. They all got guns, an' they come here for that hundred-forty proof, not talk."

"Why don't you just give it to them, then?" I asked. "It's not worth losing your life over it."

He met my eyes. "You don't know 'em, Jonathan," he said softly. "They take that 'shine, they cain't afford to leave no one 'live to point a finger at 'em."

The sound of the sheriff's voice through a bullhorn echoed in the hills. *'Jeb Stuart. This y'ere's the sher'f. Y'all come outta that there house with youah han's up ovuh youah haids an' no harm'U come to you an' Betty May."

Jeb had turned to listen; now he turned back to us. *'It'll take him ten minutes to fin' out we're not there. Then he'll turn the dogs loose. You take Betty May an' the baby an' go over the back of the hill to the highway. I'll stay here an' keep 'em busy."

Betty May had been Hstening after all. "I ain't goin' 'thout you, Jeb Stuart."

''You'll do as I say, woman," he said sternly.

"You cain't make me," she said firmly. "A woman's place is with her man, no matter what."

The bullhorn rang through the hills again. "Jeb Stuart, you got two minutes to come outta there or we goin' in after you."

"They wouldn't dare," I said. "They have to be bluffing. They know there's a baby in there."

"They don't know nothin'," Jeb Stuart said. "We never went down to town after she was bom, so she was never registered in City Hall. Outside of us, nobody even knows about her. As far as they are concerned she was never bom." He paused for a moment. "An' even if they did know, it would make no difference to'em."