The Tender Years (6 page)

The Davis family had talked about it. Prayed about it. At last they went to see Mr. Marshall. Rett was always welcome to live with them, they told him. They would care for him as long as they were able to do so. But the father had other ideas. He thought it might be best for the boy, who in actuality by now was a man well in his forties, to be in town. He’d heard of a new boardinghouse. He was going to sell the farm, set up a trust fund for his son, and move into town to get Rett settled and used to the new dwelling before his heart gave out.

When the plans were carried out, Rett had chafed at first. Restless and anxious, he paced the one small room that was now their home, and finally his father had realized that he needed to be free. Needed to be able to roam the hills and the woods. He asked the woman who ran the boardinghouse to fix up a lunch for his son, and with that in hand, no matter what the weather, Rett set off each day. “Go ahead,” the father told the boy-man. “Just be sure to come back home at night.” And he always did, returning at the end of the day satisfied and well. Uncle Luke had said that Rett Marshall had the constitution of an ox. Virginia had no idea what that meant, but Uncle Luke always made the comment as though it was a good thing and something to be admired.

The father and son had lived together at the boardinghouse for almost a year before Mr. Marshall’s heart finally failed him. He was gone even before Uncle Luke got there. The loss of his father only increased Rett’s wanderings. But he still came home each night. Hungry and often cold and damp—but content.

His only problem was what to do with his pet crow. It was the only bird or beast that Rett attempted to bring in from the wild. All other creatures he insisted on leaving, healing them and returning them to their natural habitat. But the crow went with Rett wherever he went. It perched on his shoulder or flew on ahead of him. His landlady would not allow the bird to be kept in his room. Rett had to build a cage in the backyard, but he fretted some about the bird being left out there alone each night. Folks said that often when a bad storm came their way, Rett stayed right out there with the bird.

Folks said that the crow was better at communicating than Rett himself. Mostly folks’ remarks were made without meaning to disparage the strange man. But the schoolboys were an entirely different matter. They teased and tested the man sorely. He had become the butt of many of their cruel jokes. Virginia hated it. When she had been younger, she had quickly come to Rett’s defense. At one point she was even known as the
loony lover
. But as she had grown older and understood just how important the approval of her peers was to her, she had stopped publicly defending Rett. She felt cowardly. But she was not brave enough to defy the crowd in order to take a stand against their constant ridicule.

Danny, however, had no such reservations. If anyone said anything cruel concerning Rett when he was within earshot, he was quick to defend the strange man. Virginia felt both pride and chagrin. She hoped that the school crowd would not link her with her younger brother. Yet she did admire his courage. However, she reminded herself that one day Danny would realize that standing up for society’s outcasts came at a big price. She was sure that when that time arrived, Danny, too, would be silent.

CHAPTER 5

H
ave you heard what that long-nose Mrs. Parker is saying now?”

Her green eyes flashing, red hair tossed back with an angry flip, Jenny almost flung the words at Virginia. Virginia had no idea. She didn’t believe that the folks in their small town paid much attention to anything that came from the lips of Mrs. Parker. Leastwise, her own folks chose to ignore it. “Facts are facts,” her papa always said, “and until one has proof, it is merely hearsay.”

But then her papa was an attorney. He didn’t care much about any information that couldn’t be proven solidly enough to hold up in a court of law.

And her mama didn’t pay much mind to Mrs. Parker’s stories, either, but for a totally different reason. She quoted from the Bible about gossiping tongues. Gossip and Christian charity didn’t fit together in her mama’s mind. Family members in the Simpson household were discouraged from dragging home with them bits of neighborhood gossip.

Virginia looked back at Jenny’s flushed face and gave her shoulders a bit of a shrug. She seemed to have been accepted back into Jenny’s good graces, but she had no idea what Mrs. Parker had said and wasn’t particularly interested. Jenny was sure riled up, though, about something.

“She says my pa’s a drunk.”

Virginia did not even blink. It was well known in the town that Jenny’s father was a drinker. Virginia supposed the bit of information would be seen as undisputed fact even in the eyes of her attorney father. But she did not say so to Jenny.

“She says that he comes home and pushes me around.”

Virginia’s eyes did widen some at that, remembering days when Jenny appeared at school with bruises here or there and funny little excuses of how she had bumped into this or banged against that.

“She says that’s why my ma ran off.”

“How did she find out all that?” Virginia asked innocently. An angry glare was her reply.

Too late, she realized the implication of her words. She fumbled mentally for some words to cover her mistake but could think of nothing that would wipe the conversation slate clean again.

It was also commonly known in the town that when Jenny’s pa had too much to drink, he babbled on and on to anyone who would listen to him about the hard luck that life had handed him and the fickle wife he’d had the misfortune of being “chained to” for seven long years. The story varied with the telling. Sometimes he’d kicked her out. Other times he sobbed uncontrollably as he told how she’d up and left him—him and his little girl—to run off with a fella she scarcely knew. Virginia’s folks never allowed such stories to be passed on at home, but Virginia had heard plenty from talk in the school yard. Would have been no problem at all for Mrs. Parker to get enough information to keep her gossipy tongue in business for weeks.

“I hate it!” Jenny was exclaiming. “I’d love to give that old biddy something to
really
make her tongue wag.”

Virginia frowned and shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like the feel of what was in the air.

The conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the school bell. Virginia could not help but let out her breath in relief, but Jenny was not finished. As they hurried toward the red brick building, she still raged on. “I’ll do it, too. I’ll think of something. Just you wait. That ole …” And Jenny used a word that Virginia had never heard before. Something told her that the term would not be accepted in the hearing of her mother and father. She could tell just by the ring of it, even if she had no idea what its meaning was.

“… I’ll put her in her place—just you wait.” And Jenny angrily flipped her red hair back with that familiar toss of her head.

Virginia was glad to feel the hard seat of her desk beneath her as she slid onto the wooden surface. It felt solid and cool. Almost a comfort after the red-hot anger of Jenny and the out-of-control feel that the girl’s flushed face and furious eyes had brought to the early morning. Surely Jenny would not go and do something stupid. Surely not.

But even as Virginia reached for her speller, her stomach knotted. She had the unsettling feeling that Jenny just might, and for reasons she could not explain she also feared that, as Jenny’s friend, she was going to be dragged into it. To try to keep herself apart would mean Jenny’s anger. And Virginia hated more than anything to see those flashing green eyes turned on her with disdain. It was even worse than facing the punishment meted out by her parents.

Virginia cringed.

The days went by and Jenny did not speak about Mrs. Parker again. Virginia began to relax. Perhaps she was safe after all. At least safe where plots of revenge on the neighborhood gossip were concerned.

But Jenny was busy with other plans. Constantly Virginia found herself being pushed in awkward corners and uncomfortable situations. The little crowd of malcontents was going across to the pasture of Mr. Moss to tease his big red bull. They set a trap for Crow Man Marshall’s pet, just to hear him squawk a bit, laughing over who would squawk the loudest—the bird or the man. Virginia had managed to bow out of these escapades with valid excuses. But it was not so easy to say no when Jenny decided they were going to the town’s hardware store to pester old Mr. Lougin. Virginia was told that the man firmly believed all school kids were thieves and that he nearly put his neck out trying to watch them all at the same time whenever they entered his store without the supervision of a parent.

“He thinks anyone under twenty should be kept on a leash,” Freddie Crell sputtered, and ever yone in the group laughed as though it was a great joke.

“Maybe in a cage,” hooted one of the other boys.

“It drives him half mad,” Jenny said with great glee, “just for us to mill about a little and pretend to look at this or that. He breaks out in a sweat and his face gets red. It’s great sport.”

The shouts of laughter seemed out of proportion with the statement, to Virginia’s way of thinking.

She had known Mr. Lougin all of her life and had never seen him agitated in such a fashion. But then Virginia had never been in his store except with a parent or on a legitimate errand for a parent.

“What do we do?” she asked, her voice giving away a bit of her concern.

Jenny laughed her giggling, near-hysteria laugh. “That’s just it,” she finally choked out. “We don’t have to do
anything
.” She managed to get control of her tongue so she could talk properly and went on, her green eyes dancing with the fun of it all. “We just walk in and scatter. Just
scatter.
” She indicated this with a flutter of two small freckled hands. “We scatter and just walk around and look—and he turns into a loony. It’s hilarious. He rushes about, here and there, counting items on the counters where we’ve just been, watching this way, then that—his big ole eyes nearly poppin’ from his head. It’s
hilarious
.”

It sounded mean to Virginia.

“My folks would whup me if they ever caught me at it,” muttered Jedd Marlow, who had somehow been tricked into joining the group. Virginia supposed it had something to do with the fact that Ruthie, who was included on some of the escapades, thought Jedd was cute. “I’m not to go in a store unless I got proper business there,” explained the boy.

Virginia was just about to open her mouth to agree with Jedd. Her folks would not take kindly to the idea, either, even though they might think of something other than a whipping to express their displeasure. But before she could even get out a word of agreement she saw Jenny whirl around and give Jedd one of her looks.

“We aren’t doing any harm to nobody. If this wasn’t such a dead town—if the grown-ups were concerned enough to give us something interesting to do with our time—we wouldn’t need to look for our own way of making fun, now would we?”

It was funny with Jenny. She could make her arguments for almost anything sound so reasonable. And convincing. Virginia found herself agreeing with the words. It
was
a dull town. The grown-ups didn’t do much, or supply much, to entertain the young. Maybe it was their fault that young folks had to hatch up ways to fill their free hours.

But Jedd held his ground. He did not even flinch under Jenny’s wrathful glare. He shrugged shoulders that were quickly broadening out in their reach for manhood. “Do what you like,” he said matter-of-factly. “Me—I don’t need to be looking for something to do. Got plenty of chores waiting for me at home. And when I finish them, I’m gonna meet up with some of the fellas for a game of ball.”

Jenny’s glare became more intense. But she was now looking at Jedd’s full back. He had turned and was walking away, totally unperturbed by Jenny’s fury.

“Game of ball,” Jenny sputtered to those who remained. “Game of ball—on a dirty ole sandlot. Don’t even have a decent backstop. And he thinks that’s living.” Virginia almost expected her to spit in the dust. But Jenny quickly cast aside her anger with Jedd and let the glint return to her eyes. “Now, who’s in? Just a little fun with the good man Mr. Lougin.” She emphasized the name of the man, drawing out each syllable and making a face as she did so.

Virginia looked after Jedd. She could hear his whistle as it drifted back on the warmth and stillness of the afternoon spring day. If only she had the nerve to follow suit.

The trip to the hardware store was rather a letdown. Five neighborhood men sat around a large nail keg, checkerboard set out before them as Mr. Telsworth took on Mr. Teigs in what appeared to be a tight match. The others watched, eyes glued to the board, or clucked appreciatively as a brilliant move was made. When the ragtag band of school friends self-consciously entered the store, eyes lifted from the board to focus fully on all the young faces. Even Mr. Lougin himself seemed ready to welcome them if it meant a sale.

“Help you young folks?” he asked good-naturedly as he moved toward them from his spot on an upturned barrel.

Virginia could hear the shuffling of feet. No one spoke. There seemed to be nothing to say. Then Jenny managed to find her tongue.

“We were wondering if you got in any of those six-inch-tall inkwells—like they carry in the city.”

The man shook his head. “No tall inkwells. Have the standard—”

“No, that’s not what we wanted. Tall ones hold more. We just thought …”

“I’ll sure look into it. See what I can do.” Mr. Lougin pulled a stubby pencil from behind his ear and tugged the little note pad from the front of his bib coverall. He gave the pencil a bit of a lick before he put it to the paper to make himself a note concerning tall inkwells.

“How many you thinking you might need?” he asked without even looking up.

Jenny was backing slowly toward the door, her little cluster of followers slowly backing with her. For once she seemed to be losing control of the situation. “Uh … maybe … maybe six or eight.”

Mr. Lougin’s left eyebrow shot up. “Half a dozen.”

Jenny nodded. “They are rather pricey,” she said, her chin lifting as she seemed to recover her haughty spirit. “Pro’bly not many folks in this town can afford them.”

The right eyebrow joined the left, but Mr. Lougin said nothing as his pencil scratched on. “Maybe a dozen,” he muttered to himself as he finished his writing.

The little group backed themselves right out onto the side? walk. Virginia could feel a collective sigh pass through the entire company.

“Six-inch-tall inkwells,” whispered Freddie. “Never heard of six-inch-tall inkwells.”

Jenny gave him a scathing look. “Neither will Mr. Lougin,” she said with a toss of her head. “Not any such thing.”

“You mean—?” Sammie Boycie began the question that he never did finish. Instead, as the light began to dawn he howled at the fun of it. It seemed to lighten the spirits of the entire little group. Jenny tossed her red hair and emitted a delighted giggle. The situation was redeemed. She was back in charge again. The trip had not been a total disaster after all.