Mittman, Stephanie (23 page)

He
raised his eyebrows and waited for a nod from Mr. Webb.

"But,"
the minister continued, "I am convinced that this is an isolated incident.
Perhaps your furnace was somehow modified by your uncle before he left the farm
to you, Mr. Eastman? While you were still in Johnstown, with your family?"

There
was something about the way he emphasized
family
that caused Noah to
lose track of the conversation momentarily. It was almost as if Winestock were
sending a message meant just for him. His tone seemed to hold a note of
warning.

"There
is always that chance," Noah conceded, backing down only slightly. He
might be making something out of nothing, but he couldn't see that it was worth
the risk to ignore the possibility.

"I
got hogs to ship," Mr. Webb said. His face turned scarlet and he looked at
the ground. "Not today, of course. But I best be gettin' on home."

"I'm
sure we all have better things to do than stand around this cellar,"
Winestock said.

"I
got Sissy's dinner waitin'," Bart said, his mouth almost watering.
"Not that Willa ain't a great cook, mind you. But Sissy insists on makin'
Sunday dinner. She sure is one for tradition." He put his arm on the
minister's back and asked if he was joining them, adding that Sissy had
promised them a ham, which meant sweet potato pie and pickled beets as well.

The
pickled beets seemed to do the trick, but it didn't escape Noah's attention
that the man needed to be bribed.

"A
man of God takes the flock that is given him," Miller said between bites
of ham. "And we leave the judging to the Lord. Still, a man is a man, and
he can't help but feel more compassion for one member of his congregation than
for another." He looked around the table. Annie supposed he was searching
for someone to agree with him.

"That's
true," she said, trying to spear a piece of bright-orange sweet potato
with her fork. Willa had helped with the potatoes, making them the way her
mother had taught her. Apparently, the Leemans liked their potatoes on the hard
side. Afraid that Miller would think she had lost her ability to cook, she
said, "Have you tried the potatoes? Willa made them."

"These
here are potatoes?" Ethan said. "I thought they was rocks. I was
gonna excuse myself and go look for a chisel."

"Eth!"
Annie scolded when she saw the defeated look on Willa's face. "I brought
you up with better manners than that. Apologize to Willa, please."

"I
was just funnin'." Ethan defended himself. "You're one of the family
now, Willa. You shoulda heard some of the things I've said about Sissy's
cookin' over the years. You remember them disks you made that Blue kept
buryin'?"

Annie
nodded. They were her first attempt at a new kind of biscuit, and she had
thought they were pretty good. But the dog had gone wild, ripping them off
Ethan's plate and running with them to the yard, only to dig a hole and drop
the biscuit in and run back for another. "I guess they were pretty
awful."

"You
were learnin', that's all," Ethan said kindly. "No one comes out
perfect to start, Sissy. You came a damn sight closer than the rest of us,
that's for sure."

"I
think, Ethan, that we can do without the profanity, don't you?" Miller
said, responding only to Ethan's use of the word
damn
and not to his
praise.

"Pardon,
reverend," Ethan said. "But a curse ain't as bad as a lie,
right?"

Miller
put the tips of his fingers together as though in deep thought. He looked at
Annie, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then closed it. She wished
she could read him better, know what he was thinking, what he was about to say.
Risa and Charlie did it all the time, finishing each other's sentences, having
whole conversations and coming to decisions without more than half a dozen
words exchanged, and those were usually, "But don't you?" and
"It's all right."

"A
lie is a terrible thing," Miller said at last, as though coming to an
important conclusion. "But it is not our place to call out the liar. It
says in Timothy that when, in the latter times, some shall depart from the
faith, they may speak lies in hypocrisy, but their conscience shall be seared
with a hot iron."

As
always, he warmed to his subject, but this time as he spoke he seemed to burn
rather than simply warm. He struck the table with his fist and raised his voice
until Annie was afraid the dishes in her cabinets might crack. With the shaking
of his head, his hair flew out of its neat fashion and stood away from his
scalp, giving him the appearance of someone who had just awakened from a bad
dream.

Annie
and her brothers sat staring at him, stunned. His face was a mottled red and
his hands were shaking. His voice still echoed in the room.

"Boy,"
Ethan said finally, "I sure won't be profane around here anymore!"

They
waited for Miller's reaction, each of them uneasy. Annie had never seen him so
agitated, even during the course of Elvira's illness. Bart was looking between
her and Miller as if something were wrong between them. Ethan seemed to feel
the outburst was all his fault, and Willa was attacking her potato with a
knife, sticking the point in, pulling it out, and sticking it in again.

"My
potato is excellent," Miller finally said, as though his outburst had
never taken place, although the natural color was only now returning to his
face and his breathing becoming even. "One can't expect to cook like Sissy
Morrow overnight, or someone else might win a ribbon every now and then."

"Let
me get you some more," Annie said quickly, rising from her seat and
grabbing up the serving platter. "There's plenty in the kitchen."

"You
feelin' all right now?" Annie heard Bart ask Miller as she pushed through
the kitchen door. "You been upset since church, seems to me."

Annie
stood by the door and listened.

"It's
Eastman," Miller admitted. "Imagine the nerve of that man trying to
impugn the reputation of an honest hard-working man like Elmer Wells."

Annie
snorted. Elmer Wells was no more honest and hard-working than Wilber Gebney,
the town drunk. In fact, before he was put into the furnace business by his father-in-law,
Elmer Wells
was
the town drunk.

"Noah's
just worried about the people in this town," Ethan said, jumping to his
defense. "He don't stand to make a penny, nor too many friends, goin'
around checkin' people's furnaces, but he's willin' to do it because that's the
kind of man he is."

"You
don't know what kind of man he is," Miller said. "You—we all know
very little about him, really. And what I know, I don't like."

"Neither
do I," Bart agreed.

Annie
knew full well why Bart didn't like Noah. She just hoped he didn't mention
anything to Miller about the way Noah looked at her.

"More
ham," she sung out, pushing her way through the door, "and no more
unpleasant talk."

"Mama
says that disagreeable words make for a disagreeable stomach," Willa said.

"Your
mama never ate a meal with five Morrows around the table," Ethan said.

"Well,
you're all grown up now, and it's time we had a meal without an argument,"
Annie insisted. Her whole dinner was being ruined, and just when she was hoping
to show Miller the benefits of marrying her. If only once Miller would look at
her the way Bart was gazing at Willa.

"I
could use some more water," Bart said, rising from the table. "Anyone
else?"

"Oh,
I'll get it," Willa said, rising as well, the pitcher in her hand.

"Then
let me help you," Bart offered, taking the pitcher from her and extending
his arm.

Now
everyone knew it didn't take two grown people to get a bit of water from the
kitchen to the table, but no one said a word or even smirked or smiled as the
two left the room.

"They
sure do seem happy," Ethan said when they just sat staring at the closed
kitchen door. "Is it as bad living with them as you thought?"

Annie
thought of the extra work Willa made for her. She thought of how little Bart
was able to get done when he had to stop his work several times a day to check
on his new wife. She thought of how her nights were spent, the pillow clutched
around her ears, trying not to hear what they were doing. Her cheeks felt
heated as she thought about the dreams she'd been having ever since Willa had
moved in.

"No,"
she lied. "It ain't all that bad."

"Why
would it be bad?" Miller asked. "Willa's a good woman. I'm sure she's
a great help to your sister."

"Yeah,"
Ethan agreed with a laugh. "Much more help, and Sissy'll need a maid and a
cook."

"Eth,"
Annie warned. "Be nice."

"I'm
always nice, to you," he said and blew her a kiss.

"You
should be nice to everyone," Annie said, then caught herself. Ethan was
too old for her to still be mothering. He was a grown man and deserved to be
treated like one.

"I'm
nice to everyone who deserves it." Ethan defended himself. "But there
are those that don't. Like ol' Ruth Abernathy. That's one mean—"

Miller's
head picked up, and Annie kicked Ethan under the table, effectively shutting
him up.

"It's
hard to know which folks deserve your kindness, son, and which ones don't. It
might seem that Mrs. Abernathy is less worthy of your consideration than Mr.
Eastman, when in fact—"

"Bart!"
Willa cried as they came through the door. "Stop that!" Her face turned
three shades of red as she looked at the minister's fallen jaw. "Oh,
my!"

"They
were just—" Annie began, but stopped when she saw the shocked look on
Miller's face.

"Sorry,
Mr. Winestock. My fault," Bart mumbled, escorting Willa back to her seat
and pulling out the chair for her. When she was seated he squeezed her shoulder
lightly despite Miller's stern gaze.

"Yes,"
Miller said, clearing his throat. "Well."

"Tea
or coffee anyone?" Annie offered, rising from the table. "I've apple
brown Betty."

"I'll
help you," Ethan said, jumping up and nearly upsetting everything on the
table so that everyone reached out to steady glasses and pitchers and the like.

Annie
was tempted to say that his kind of help was the kind she could do without, but
she didn't. Nor did she ask why suddenly, after all these years, he thought she
needed help at all. Instead she just nodded and let him follow her into the
kitchen.

"He's
an old fart, Sissy," Ethan said, once they had come through the kitchen
door and closed it. "You'd be much better off with Noah."

Annie
turned to study her youngest brother's face. There was no bitterness or anger
there, just earnest caring. "I think I know by now what's best for me,
Ethan," she said, touching his cheek and surprised to find such coarse stubble
there. "I've lived long enough to know that no one and nothing is perfect.
Miller can be stuffy at times, but he has a good heart and he is a good
man."

"And
he's got a nice house, Sissy, but no matter how good his heater is, it ain't
gonna keep you warm at night. It takes a man to do that. A man who loves
you."

"Loves
me? Miller loves me. He loves us all. And what do you know about love anyway,
little brother? In all your experience, you think you know what it is?"

"Sissy,
I just want you to be happy." He tried to wrap his arms around her, but
she fought him.

"I
will be happy! I'll be happy just as soon as Miller and I are married and I can
leave this farm and all of you behind me." Her hands went up to cover her
disobedient mouth. "I'm tired, Ethan. I'm tired of pumping water, of
gardening, of taking care of everyone. I'm entitled to some rest, aren't I? Do
you know that Miller's house has a toilet in it? That his'll be one of the
first to have those electric lights? That there is a bathroom upstairs where I
can take a bath and then climb into bed?"

"But
he'll
be there," Ethan said, pointing toward the door. "He'll
be in that bed waiting for you."

She
thought of Miller's white body lying between the sheets waiting for her to come
to him and let him use her. Well, she had liked kissing with Noah, all right,
so there was every reason to believe that she would like kissing Miller just as
much. More, even, since she respected Miller so much.

"That's
the best part," she said to Ethan with a smile pasted on her face.

"You're
still the worst liar I know," Ethan said as he turned on his heel and
walked toward the door. "I ain't hungry, Sissy. I'll be goin' on home
now."

After
living all his nineteen years under the Morrows' roof, how could he think of
Noah Eastman's farm as home?

***

Ethan's
boots clunked heavily on the porch, startling Noah. He hadn't expected him back
for quite a while. He put down the letter from Francie that he had been reading
and went to me door.