The Storm (18 page)

*

Jaq hung up the receiver. What should she do? She'd promised herself she wouldn't get involved with Molly, and here she was telling Molly she loved her. And she did. But not like Molly thought.

She traced the smooth surfaces of the cool silver bells at the top of the wooden telephone box. She loved Molly the way a man loved a woman, but Molly probably wouldn't understand. The gulf between them was almost as wide as the Atlantic.

Molly obviously believed their love was pure and beautiful
,
the joining of two kindred souls, but
she
didn't feel innocent love. She wanted Molly to caress her with those resilient fingers, like she did when she'd soothed salve on the bruises on her back and legs. If she had the nerve, they'd be lying nude on a feather mattress and sinking into it right now. She'd roll over, unpin Molly's waist-long red hair, and let it cover them like a quilt. Then she'd burrow her face between Molly's breasts and never come up for air.

Damn it. She couldn't let herself imagine such things. She'd be totally miserable.

As she trudged down the long dark hall toward the kitchen, she couldn't get her mind off Molly. She was her friend, a naive married woman with a darling son whom she'd begun to be fond of. How could she tell Molly what she really meant when she'd said, “Love you too”?

The tall, still pines outside the kitchen window circled the house and separated her from Molly and the rest of the world. She said to a fox squirrel perched on the limb of an oak tree, staring at her with bright eyes, “I have to live a lie but I can't lie to myself. I love Molly Russell.” She shook her head and the squirrel jumped to another limb. “But I can't have her, and I'm not sure what I'd do with her if I could.”

*

“You don't say, Ethel. And then they said what? Well, I never. The viper in your bosom. That's right. I certainly 'preciate you telling me. No, I won't let her know I'm on to her. I won't tell a living soul. Thank you, Ethel. We've been friends a long time and I won't forget this. Bye now.”

After she hung up the phone, she flew out to the chicken yard and almost killed a couple of her favorite pullets with flying grain. Then she stomped to the rose garden and deadheaded the roses like she was wiping out a Hun battalion all by herself.

“The nerve of those deadbeat gals, calling me miserable and a devil and saying I'm cranky.” She talked out loud as she snipped roses right and left. Wasn't anybody 'round to hear, and if there was she wouldn't have cared. She was that mad. “Molly knows Ethel listens in and hangs on every word people say and then can't wait to call everybody up and spread all the bad news she can.

“The whole community probably already knows every word those two said, and I bet the little dickenses are laughing behind my back and carrying on to beat the band, bragging 'bout what a fool they've made out of me. If they think they're so smart, they've got another think coming. I'll get their goat, if it's the last thing I do. They don't know who they're fooling with.”

Molly hummed as she rolled out a double crust. The first apples of the season had just come in, and she'd picked a bucketful of the prettiest ones for the two pies she was making. Apple pie was her favorite, and she'd discovered it was Jacqueline's too. As soon as she pulled the treats from the oven, she'd pay her a quick visit. She hadn't seen Jacqueline since Sunday, and because Mother Russell had gone to her weekly meeting, she didn't see why she couldn't do what pleased her.

Her new rolling pin was so much easier to use than the clumsy empty bottle Mother Russell always insisted on. She'd never gotten the hang of it, and when Jacqueline presented her with this wooden rolling pin with a red handle, she felt like she'd received a pair of silk stockings. Except her new kitchen tool was much more useful than hose.

Faster than a bottle, it fit her hands perfectly. She'd seen one in the Sears and Roebuck catalogue, but Mother Russell would consider it a frippery.

To add insult to injury, Mr. James would probably agree with his mother about the bottle, so she'd never mentioned it. How Jacqueline knew she'd wanted one amazed her. Just a lucky guess, she supposed, but she wouldn't take the world for it.

As she greased her hands, she remembered spreading salve on Jacqueline's back and legs when she was hurting so bad. She'd tried to be careful and touch only the injured places, but the side of her hand had accidentally skimmed Jacqueline's undamaged skin. Simply thinking about it made her get even warmer than she already was today with a wood fire built in the oven.

What was wrong with her? She squeezed the pie dough into a ball, enjoying its texture, then patted it out and began to smooth it with her rolling pin. The pastry spread so easily. Creating a perfect round, she slipped her fingers under its edges and gently lifted it, cradling it in her hands and flipping it into the pie pan.

Then she peeled the red apples, and the long swirls fell away gracefully to reveal the white meat of each one. Like Jacqueline's skin. She sliced the apples into the pan, stopping occasionally to pop a piece into her mouth. She loved the tart sweetness. Then she sprinkled a precious mixture of flour, sugar, and cinnamon on them, dotted them with butter, and slid her fingers under the second crust and flipped it on top.

Holding the pan in one hand, she trimmed the extra overhanging crust, lowered the pan, and squeezed the crust around the edges of the pie between her thumb and middle finger. A few slits, and it was ready to bake. After she repeated the procedure, she slid the second pie into the oven and went to get ready.

She could hardly wait to see Jacqueline's reaction. She felt as excited as Patrick looked on Christmas Eve when they lit the candles on the tree.

*

“It's so good to see you, Molly. It seems like ages.” Jaq's heart started to dance, like it always did when she was around Molly, though it couldn't manage anything but a boring old waltz.

Molly handed her a pie pan covered with a clean white cloth. “How are you? Feeling better?”

“Yes. A lot. Talking on the telephone isn't the same as actually being together, is it?”

“No.” Molly stared, like she wanted to make sure she was back to normal, then moved forward, as if to embrace her.

Jaq froze, holding the pie pan out in front of her. She loved Molly but didn't want to touch her. She was content to fantasize.

Molly looked a bit hurt but held her ground.

She tried to smooth the awkward situation. “What did you bring this time? I have to peek. An apple pie? So that's why you wanted to discuss pies the last time we chatted on the phone.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Why don't we stay out here on the porch, out of this awful heat? Sit in the rocker while I put this in the kitchen. We'll have a piece later.”

The pie smelled as sweet as Molly, with a spicy dash of cinnamon. Thank God, she could smell again. Just inhaling the same air that Molly breathed made her heart beat a little faster. In her imagination, she wrapped her arms around Molly and hugged her close. She ran her hands through Molly's thick hair and stroked her cheek. She wished she didn't flinch at the thought of anyone touching her, even Molly. But she just couldn't let anyone near her yet. Her bruises had healed but the memory of them lingered.

She still got tired easily and had an occasional headache. But she'd taken Molly's advice to rest. In fact, she'd been lounging in the porch swing reading the newspaper Eric brought her yesterday when he drove to town to sell his last load of tomatoes. He was keeping his word and had been even more thoughtful than usual lately, though she was still skittish around him.

“Did you know we've finally got the Germans on the run? Our boys have made all the difference.” She couldn't keep from touching Molly after all, so she squeezed her hand and Molly returned the pressure. The familiar heat between them hadn't disappeared, though she tried to dampen it.

“I'm so glad, though the War still doesn't seem very real. It's so far away and doesn't have much to do with me, even though Clyde's over there. But I know it's important to you, Jacqueline.”

She'd returned to the swing, so she pushed off in it. If she could keep moving, maybe she'd forget how near Molly was. “We need to show the bullies they can't run over their neighbors and get by with it. Maybe this war
will
actually end all wars.”

“I hope so. Perhaps all our boys can come home by Christmas.”

Looking at the pine forest, she glanced at a few trees that lightning had struck.
They won't all be back
, she thought. And Helen wouldn't be coming home. Neither would Henry.

She shook her head, but the other topic she wanted to discuss wasn't any more pleasant than the one she kept to herself. Together, they'd surely keep her mind off Molly's sweet lips and her encouraging smile.

“I just read about a worrisome new disease,” she said. “The Bureau of Public Health in Philadelphia has sent out a bulletin about something called the Spanish influenza.”

“Really. Why Spanish?”

She looked so cute when she was puzzled.

“A lot of people died during a big outbreak in Spain earlier this year. The doctors in France always warned us to watch out for communicable diseases, and it's unusual for influenza to occur during the summer. Come to think of it, I had something similar last summer, then had a relapse.”

Molly looked at her with sparkling eyes. “Don't worry. If a disease like that did spread, we're so isolated here at New Hope it would have to look long and hard to find us. Catching the Spanish flu is even more far-fetched to me than the War is.”

She chuckled. Molly could always cheer her up. She lazed in the swing, warm inside and out, while they chatted until it was time to eat some pie. Only the long hours she used to spend with her brothers working on automobiles had ever made her feel more content.

“Would you like to hear a new record Eric brought me from town the other day? The old Victrola in the parlor isn't in very good shape. Eric's brothers must have almost worn the handle off cranking it. But it should be okay for a song or two. Let's go try it.”

Molly clapped her hands like a child. “Oh, I'd love to. I don't get to hear new songs unless I visit Dallas or buy sheet music in town and play them for myself.”

“This one's brand-new and it's called ‘I'm Always Chasing Rainbows.' It's hard to make out the words at first, but I've already memorized them. Just ask if you don't understand some of them.”

Molly whirled the crank and the song filled the air. While she concentrated on the words, Jaq drifted along with the music. She understood what it was like to always chase rainbows and watch clouds drift by. She'd always chased them, and lately she'd seen a lot of clouds. In a way, having Eric hit her was almost a blessing. She'd finally sat still long enough to see that she'd been chasing rainbows forever. As the song said, all her schemes and her dreams had ended in the sky.

Since she was six years old and the Galveston Storm shook her world to pieces, she hadn't found the sunshine. Instead, she'd found the rain. She'd never discovered what she'd wanted, but she'd kept chasing rainbows, hoping she'd eventually find that elusive bluebird.

After the song ended and Molly left, she walked back outside. The more she sat on the porch in that isolated corner of the world and stared at the pine trees, the more she thought Molly might be the bluebird she'd been searching for. Too bad she would always live in a cage, far away from her.

*

By cracky, the mules and the wagon were gone. She shoved Patrick toward the house, then hustled around the yard, picking up limbs the last storm had knocked down and carrying them to the burning pile.

She had to speak her mind out loud as she dragged a stout piece of oak. “This is the last straw. I go try to send comfort to our poor boys overseas, and Molly pulls this stunt. Who does she think she is?”

She threw the wood into a pile and hurried to get a bucket of live coals from the kitchen stove. Molly's rolling pin was laying on the drain board and she snatched it.

Out of the goodness of her heart she'd taken Patrick to the meeting with her so Molly could have a little time to herself, and what did she do? Went gallivanting 'round the countryside the minute she left. Most likely over at that Jacqueline McCade's, laughing at her.

She slung the embers into a pile of twigs and small branches and added the larger branches. Then, as the fire gnawed through them, she crowned them with Molly's rolling pin. She stood there a minute, then wiped her hands clean on her apron.

*

The buggy was already back in place. “Goodness, Gus, I didn't realize we'd stayed so long. The time flew by. Every time Jacqueline and I are together, it's harder to leave. I almost wish something else would happen so I could tend to her. No, I take that back. I couldn't stand to see her in pain again.”

Humming, Molly unhitched the mules and led them to the pasture, then headed to the back door. She passed the smoking remains of a fire but barely gave it notice. Mother Russell burned trash all the time. She hated litter in the yard.

“Patrick, I'm home,” she called as she entered the kitchen. “Did you have a good time today?”

He came running and hugged her around the legs. “Yes, ma'am. I learned to make a whistle out of a willow branch. Listen.”

She was laughing at Patrick's squawks and patting him on the head when Mother Russell sashayed in, tied an apron around her waist, and started fixing supper. “Have a good time wherever you went, Molly?”

“As a matter of fact I did, thank you. Jacqueline caught me up on the news, and I lost track of the time. I took her a pie I made from some of the first apples, and she seemed to enjoy it.”