Skip Rock Shallows (15 page)

Tern Still balanced a dinner plate and a full cup of coffee as he took a seat at a sawhorse table. The community supper was in full swing. Landis Blair manned the huge iron skillet suspended over an open fire while various women ladled side dishes from an abundant supply.

Tern felt a little guilty for not bringing anything. He could have picked up a couple loaves of light bread or something from the company store. He hadn’t intended to come, but Mrs. DeWitt was busy putting her kitchen to rights following the storm. There’d be no supper at the boardinghouse. A man had to eat. He was bushed after a day repairing roofs and glazing windowpanes. It wasn’t too bad, though. Only three buildings were a total loss, and half a dozen others needed patching, like Lilly’s place, where the roof was rolled up like a scroll. He and Elbows and another guy had put it to rights. When the other men moved on, he’d stayed to rehang the door, which he found in the backyard of the James place. It was crazy how the wind had taken the door but left the screen.

He forked up a bite of the best coleslaw he’d ever tasted and considered what a mistake that had been—being there by himself with even the essence of Lilly. It reminded him of the first time he’d gone into the kitchen after his mother died. There was her apron on a peg behind the door, there the shoes she wore to the garden, there the sweet-potato vine she’d started in a fruit jar, winding lushly down the window. He remembered taking the fruit jar from the sill and hurling it against the wall. The crumpled vine had lain on the floor like a silent reproach.

Once the doors were secure, he’d gone inside Lilly’s house to open the windows and find a doorstop. Without the benefit of fresh air and sunshine, mold would soon take over. The room was stripped. He supposed Mrs. James had come for Lilly’s things. Still, he could feel Lilly’s presence, and he couldn’t help but linger for a moment. He wished he were a praying man. Maybe that would give him some comfort.

“Father God, maybe You could give me just a little something to ease the ache in my chest,” he’d started reverently, the words choking like dry dust in his throat. Why would God answer such a selfish request? Besides, it had been too long. Too long? It hadn’t ever been. He supposed he’d never prayed. Not even standing beside his mother’s grave when the preacher exhorted them to turn to the Lord in their time of need. He’d turned, all right—turned and walked away.

The window by the door was swollen shut. He’d struck the frame several times with the heel of his hand and shoved it open. The doorstop was just inside the door. It had some sort of fancy frilly covering that was soaked through, but the sun would dry it. He propped the door and stood on the stone stoop wondering where to go next—maybe he should check out Number 4, see if it was flooded. He hoped not.

A bit of something caught his eye. A ribbon—a long white ribbon rippled breezily from the wind-whipped snowball bush beside the porch. Tern retrieved it. It was Lilly’s; he was sure of it. That day in the store when he’d first come face-to-face with her, her hair had been caught up with a white ribbon. He’d looped the length of silk around his fingers, making a tight package, before he slipped the tiny bit of comfort into his jacket pocket.

A woman with a big bowl of good-looking potato salad brought him back to the present. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said as she spooned a dollop onto his plate.

Elbows jostled him as he slid onto the bench. “So, Joe, did ye check out Number 4?” he asked around a mouthful.

“Not yet,” Tern said, scooting over to give room. He couldn’t believe he was getting used to the aggravating banty rooster of a man. Just went to show . . .

Elbows bit into a hunk of corn bread. Butter greased his chin. “Think we’ll be working it tomorrow?” he asked.

Tern surveyed the sky. The setting sun lit up the horizon with a blaze of color. “Red sky at night . . .”

“Sailors’ delight,” Elbows chimed in, punctuating his every word with his fork. Flakes of fish dropped like snow onto his shirtfront. “Red sky in morning, sailors take warning. Say, did you find that little lady’s door?”

Tern’s eyes followed the direction of Elbows’s pointing fork and saw Lilly Gray just a stone’s throw distant. He thought Mr. James said she’d gone off with a party of men to help some real sick woman. But there she was with Paul Hamilton. He looked different somehow, but Tern couldn’t put his finger on what the difference was.

“You hear what happened over to Swampy?” Elbows asked.

Tern forced himself to keep his interest on his plate. Someone had served pickled beets, not a favorite, but he ate them anyway. “Uh, no. That’s that polluted creek everyone talks about, right?”

“Yeah, years of mining upstream took a toll on old Swampy. When I was a boy, you could seine there all day and never run out of fish. It was a black bear’s haven.”

Tern bit into a beet. The tart taste made his eyes water. “So what happened?”

“The way I heard it, the doc there and that other doc and Ned Tippen and some other fellows were bringing Mrs. Eldridge—do you know of her? She’s the heftiest woman you ever seen—down the mountain to the clinic. Anyways, the whole company got caught up in quicksand. I heard they had to hitch a horse to Mrs. Eldridge and drag her out of the creek. I knowed her husband—used to work with him. God rest his soul. They’re good folks.”

Tern nodded. He was sure they were. But it was becoming impossible to keep his eyes off Lilly and looking at her sideways was causing a crick in his neck.

“Say, I’m going for a piece of pie. You want some?” Elbows stood and stacked Tern’s empty plate on top of his. “I seen apple, blueberry, and chocolate.”

“No, I’m good,” Tern said. He was glad to be rid of the man.

The music started up before Elbows was halfway to the pie table. Stanley James tuned a fiddle, Ned Tippen brought out a battered dulcimer, and Darrell Tippen balanced a washboard between his knees.
This should be interesting,
Tern thought.

He was about to make his getaway when a girl positioned herself right in front of him.

“I know you. You’re the one that helped save my brother from our crazy cow, Bossy.” She pointed at his chest. “You got beet juice on your shirt.”

Tern blotted the spots with a handkerchief. He was no better than Elbows.

“You want to dance?” she asked.

Tern recognized the indomitable Timmy when he bounced up behind his sister.

“Mommy’s looking for you,” he said with a tug on her pigtail.

“Can’t you see I’m busy? Go away or I’ll swat you one.”

Timmy dodged her hand. “I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble.”

“A likely story, Timmy. Go eat some pie.”

“Pie? I didn’t know there was pie! I’ll be right back.”

“That’s the trouble,” the girl said. “He always comes back.”

Tern felt like he’d been attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes. What was the girl’s name? Janie? June? It was something with a
J
.

“So do you?”

“I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“Do you want to dance?”

Tern shook his handkerchief like he was expecting the bloodred spots would fall to the ground. All he’d managed to do was spread the beet stains and soil his handkerchief. Yeah, that’s what he’d do—go dancing with a girl. Not like that would call attention to himself. “I don’t think so. But thanks for asking.”

“I reckon you’re just going to give up without so much as trying.”

“Excuse me?”

The girl stood on tiptoe and whispered, “I saw you looking at Doc Corbett and I saw her looking back at you.”

Tern looked around as if for help. He had to get out of this conversation. “Young lady, the doctor has a gentleman friend.”

“I know, but he ain’t right for her.”

“And why is this any of your business?” Tern figured he’d finally lost what was left of his mind to be exchanging words with a girl who couldn’t be more than ten years old.

“Don’t you see, if she goes off and marries him, she won’t never come back here. That would be a terrible thing.”

Timmy ran up with a slab of chocolate pie balanced on his palm. A rim of meringue mustached his upper lip. “Mommy says you’d better get yourself over to her right now, missy. She says if you don’t mind her, I get to cut a switch.” He spread his hands wide apart, making his dessert wobble. “And I’m gonna cut a big one—with thorns.”

“You’re silly as a goose, Timmy. Mommy wouldn’t switch me with a thorn tree.”

Timmy’s pie plopped to the ground. “Oh, shucks,” he said. “I’ve got to get another piece.”

His sister shook her head in a see-what-I-have-to-put-up-with? motion and turned her attention back to Tern. “You wait right here.”

Before Tern could take in what she was doing, the Blair girl was towing Lilly his way. Now he wanted to dance. He wanted it in the worst way.

The band struck up an old-fashioned waltz, and next thing Tern knew, Lilly Gray was in his arms.

“Mr. Repp,” she said, “we meet again.”

“Where’s your friend?” Tern asked. He could have bitten his tongue.

“Paul lost his spectacles today and now he has a raging headache. He excused himself.”

“Too bad,” Tern said, guiding Lilly onto the patch of ground that comprised the dance floor.

He was careful to keep a proper distance between them and to hold her lightly. She followed his steps easily. He wished the dance would go on forever.

“You’ve obviously danced the waltz before, Mr. Repp.”

“Please, call me Tern.”

“Pardon me?” Lilly said quizzically.

“Joe, I said. Please call me Joe.”

Lilly cocked her head and looked at him with a puzzled expression. “There’s something very familiar about you, Joe.”

“I look just like a thousand other guys—”

“Perhaps not a thousand,” she demurred. “Are you from here?”

He didn’t have to think about the answer. He was used to deferring attention from himself. “I’ve lived a lot of places. How about you? Is Kentucky your home?”

Her cool gray eyes studied his. “Yes,” she said, “for now. My family lives in Breathitt County. Are you familiar with the area?”

She was getting too close, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie outright to her. He could feel sweat beading his forehead. “Vaguely,” he said.

As the strains of the waltz faded, Turnip Tippen cut in, claiming Lilly for the next dance. Feeling like a coward, Tern took the opportunity to bow out. He could feel Lilly Corbett’s stormy gray eyes on his back as he walked away.

Once out of sight, he blotted sweat from his forehead with his beet-stained handkerchief. Man, he’d almost spilled his guts. What relief it would have been to simply tell Lilly everything. He was nearly sure she wouldn’t betray him, but he couldn’t take the chance. One word could give him away. If the men he worked with found out who he was, he’d be branded as a scab. No way would they understand that he was there to make their jobs safer and more secure. All they would see was that he was a pretty good liar. They’d likely beat the tar out of him or worse. He needed to pull up stakes soon and get out while the getting was good.

Over Turnip Tippen’s meaty shoulder, Lilly watched Joe Repp walk away. Her mind was awhirl and it wasn’t from Mr. Tippen’s fancy footwork. As soon as Jenny Blair deposited her into Mr. Repp’s arms, she’d begun to enjoy the dance. Perhaps she had enjoyed it a little too much.

When the tune ended, Lilly fanned her face in a mock of female distress. “I believe I must sit this next one out.”

In a gentlemanly way she didn’t expect, Turnip Tippen took her elbow and led her to the bench seat beside the schoolhouse. Within seconds, several ladies were waving church fans in her face. She accepted a cold glass of lemonade.

“Are ye ill, Doc?” Tillie Tippen asked.

“Goodness, no,” she replied, hoping Mr. Repp was still about. She twisted the pearl ring on her finger, the antique ring so lovingly put there by Paul. “I’m sure a night’s sleep will put me to rights. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

That set the ladies to talking about the strangeness of a day that began with mayhem and ended with a dance. “It’s for certain sure,” one lady said, “our kind of folk bear up under what can’t be set aside.”

One by one the ladies left, leaving Lilly alone on the bench. She sipped her drink, relishing the sweet-tart taste of it. She saw Armina standing in front of the small band, swaying to the beat of the music. A young man stepped in front of her, obviously asking for a dance partner. Armina shook her head.
Too bad,
Lilly thought.
It would do the girl a world of good to have some fun.

Fun? How long had it been since Lilly had fun? It seemed she’d left silliness behind her when she’d left her home place for Lexington. While medical school was interesting and challenging, it most decidedly was not fun. She had pleasant times with Paul. He could be a funny man, but he was as serious as she was.

Thinking about Paul made her think about his mother. Lilly’s brow furrowed with the beginnings of a tension headache. Why would Paul’s mother think Lilly’s family would come to Boston for the wedding?