The Unforgiven (16 page)

Jess got out and came around the car to open her door. “Let’s go,” he ordered, holding out a hand to her. “You’ll be late.”

“Good morning, Evy, Grace.” Jess waved jauntily to the two women and continued down the hall to his office.

Grace glanced up at Maggie as she entered the room.

“My car broke down,” Maggie explained. “He had to give me a ride.” Grace grunted and returned to the newspaper she was clipping.

Maggie’s face flamed as she took her seat. She wished she had not made an excuse. It was none of their business anyway. She looked over at Evy, who continued to sharpen the bunch of pencils which she held in her hand.
More lies,
Maggie thought, and shook her head.

“There’s a bunch of stuff on your desk needs filing,” Grace announced. “This morning.”

“I’ve got that story on Ben McGuffey to do. I guess I can do it after lunch,” said Maggie.

“I don’t care when you do that,” said Grace. “Just clean up that filing. That’s your job. Your little story can wait.”

Maggie resisted the temptation to salute her, and she picked up the piles of clippings and pictures. With a glance at Evy, who continued sharpening the pencils without looking up, Maggie retreated to the file room down the hall. It was a narrow room filled with cabinets and shelves of newspapers. Maggie had decided that it must have been the pantry in this house at one time. It was obvious from the fixtures that the art room on the other side had been the kitchen.

Maggie settled herself behind the desk and placed the piles of photographs on top of it. She knew that Grace meant to punish her, but in truth she was glad to be alone.

•   •   •

At noontime, the file room door opened and Evy looked in. Maggie was seated behind a counter, a sandwich in one hand, perusing an old copy of the newspaper.

“’Scuse me,” the girl murmured and started to back out.

“No, no, please come in,” Maggie urged her, putting the paper aside. “Don’t rush off because of me.”

Evy shrugged and came in, closing the door behind her. She was wearing her jacket and carrying her lunch bag. Her pale skin was mottled from the cold.

“How is it out?” Maggie asked her.

“Cold. I wasn’t out for long. I just had an errand to do.”

“Why don’t you join me?” Maggie said, indicating Evy’s lunch bag.

Evy sat down on a stool and laid the jacket across her lap. Then she took out her sandwich and slowly unwrapped it on the counter. She took a bite, her eyes focused on a point on the table just to the right of Maggie’s elbow. A silence fell between them. Maggie blushed at the memory of their encounter the day before and the image of herself, waving a poker at the girl.

“Evy…”

“You know…” They both spoke at once.

“What?” asked Evy.

“No, go ahead,” Maggie demurred.

“It was nothing,” the girl insisted.

Maggie cleared her throat. “I was just thinking about yesterday. At my house. I was wondering if you were still angry with me. I’m so sorry that happened…”

“You already apologized for that,” the girl observed.

“So I did,” Maggie sighed. “I’ve just… I’ve been so edgy.”

“Forget it,” said Evy. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Thanks.”

“You still have more to file back here?” Evy asked.

“Just a few things,” Maggie said, although she had finished her filing an hour before. She had been scouring the files with a kind of morbid curiosity, looking for evidence of her own sordid story, just moments before the girl had arrived. She had found nothing. “These archives are quite impressive,” she said. “Where do you get all these clips?”

Evy’s eyes scanned the room impassively. “We get a lot of different papers. And services send up clips. Grace and I try to keep up to date on them, but we get behind a lot. There’s so much else to do.”

“Well, it’s interesting,” said Maggie.

“You can find out a lot of interesting things, if you have the time to read them.”

“I’m sure you can,” Maggie replied. A long silence fell between them. Evy took a last bite of her sandwich and brushed the crumbs off her fingers. Then she spoke casually.

“You going to the fair on Sunday?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“It’s a lot of fun,” said Evy. “Last thing we do before winter sets in. Over at the grammar school. They have tents, and there are rides and contests and stuff.”

“Sounds nice,” said Maggie listlessly. “It’s probably great for the kids.”

“Everybody likes it,” Evy assured her.

“Well, maybe,” said Maggie. “I’d probably feel funny. I don’t really know anybody.”

“You don’t need to know people,” Evy protested.

“I don’t know,” said Maggie. “I guess I’m just feeling a little shy.”

“You could always help out,” said Evy. “That would be one way of getting to know people.”

Maggie watched the girl as she ate a cookie she had fished out of her bag, wiping her mouth methodically and thoroughly chewing every bit. Maggie doubted that the fair was fun for the girl, despite what she said. She could not imagine Evy having fun. Still, she felt a sudden warmth toward the colorless girl for her suggestion.

“What sort of help do they need?” Maggie asked gently.

“Well,” said Evy, “I’m working in the bakery booth. They can always use pies for the bake sale.”

“I guess I could bake a pie,” Maggie offered.

“You can help me sell in the afternoon,” Evy said.

Maggie smiled at her. “That sounds like a good idea. I think I’d enjoy that. Thanks.”

“That’s all right,” said Evy. “Well, I guess I’ll get back,” she said, throwing her lunch bag into a can under the counter. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be out soon,” Maggie said.

Satisfied, Evy picked up her jacket and gave Maggie a wave as she left.

A few hours later, Evy stepped through the door to Jess’s office and gently closed it behind her. She stared fixedly at Jess, who was running his hand absently
through his hair as he scribbled on a sheet of paper. He looked up to see her standing there.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in.”

She kept her eyes fastened to his face. “Grace said you wanted to see me.”

Jess motioned toward the chair by his desk. “Well, don’t look so alarmed. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Evy stood beside the chair. “I thought I must have done something wrong.”

Jess smiled at her. “You’re a real worrywart sometimes, you know it?” he teased her gently.

A pleased smile tugged at the corners of Evy’s mouth. She dropped into the chair.

“Actually,” he said, “I called you in here to compliment you.”

“You did?” Evy raised her eyes to his. Their cool blueness had dissolved into a smoky gray haze.

Jess nodded.

She smiled at him. “I knew you weren’t mad at me.”

“Mad at you? My dear young woman,” said Jess with a briskness that made Evy giggle. “On the contrary, I am your servant.”

“You are?” Evy asked, trying to stifle her giggle by putting her fist in front of her mouth.

“I certainly am,” he said sternly, and then he directed a menacing glower at her which made her laugh more uncontrollably.

“Get a hold of yourself, girl,” he ordered as tears of laughter gathered in her eyes. He extricated his handkerchief from his pocket and waved it at her. “Here you go,” he said. “You’re awfully silly today.”

“I’m sorry,” Evy gasped. “I don’t know what was so funny.”

Jess grinned and accepted the balled-up cotton square back from her. “It’s good to see you laugh. Sometimes you seem so worried.” After a pause he spoke gently. “How’s Grandma?”

Evy shrugged and lowered her eyes. “She’s okay.”

“Listen, Evy, if I can ever help you out in that department, I want you to let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly.

“Like I said, I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Well, yes I do,” Jess insisted. “I heard from Maggie how nice you were to her today. How you invited her to help out with the fair and all.”

“Was that what you meant?” the girl asked, stricken.

“Well,” Jess floundered, seeing her disappointment. “I think it’s a wonderful thing to help someone out when they need you. I’ve always known that you were that kind of person. Now, Maggie’s new here, and she’s had a hard time adjusting. I just wanted you to know that I think you did a very kind thing.”

“Thank you,” said Evy flatly, the joy vanished from her face and voice.

Jess bit his lip and waited a moment before he spoke. Finally he said, “Did I say something wrong?”

Evy stared at him, wounded but defiant. “I don’t know why you like her so much,” she said. “You don’t really know her. There’s something wrong with her. Anyone can see that.”

Jess frowned as he answered her. “Evy, I had kind of thought, after what Maggie told me today, that you two
might be becoming better friends. I mean, the way you helped her and tried to bring her in on the fair and all. I just assumed…”

The girl looked at him steadily. Behind her eyes Jess could see her furiously debating what she wanted to say. When at last she spoke, her voice was harsh. “I didn’t do it for her. I did it for you,” she said.

The girl’s words stung and surprised him, but he tried to mask his uneasiness. “I see,” he said.

When he looked up at Evy he could see that she was stricken, as if horrified by her own words.

“Evy,” he said gently. “Whatever your reasons, it was a nice thing to do anyway. I hope,” he added lamely, “one of these days you two will become friends.”

Evy nodded dumbly. “Can I go now?” she asked.

“Sure, of course.” Jess watched silently as the girl got up and left his office. Then he leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. The day’s end was upon him suddenly. Unnoticed, unobserved, the afternoon light had vanished, and the town was darkening quickly and suddenly, like a Kansas prairie, when out of nowhere a twister appears on the horizon and looms over the land. Jess knew what it meant. It meant that the winter was coming, when the darkness sneaked up on you like that. Still frowning, he slipped on the sweater hanging behind his chair. He felt chilly, and unprepared.

11

In honor of the Harvest Fair, the red brick facade of the Heron’s Neck Elementary School was temporarily divested of its sober, pedagogical aspect. A jauntily lettered banner announcing the fair hung suspended between two far-flung classroom windows. At one end of the flat, tree-studded lawn, a green and white striped tent billowed in the autumn breeze. Under the canvas peaks of the tent, tables from the children’s cafeteria were lined up and festooned with crepe paper. The tabletops were scarcely visible beneath the colorful collections of chipped china, potted plants, piles of books and used clothes. Several women clustered around each cache of goods, sorting and arranging, consulting one another about the visual appeal of the displays they settled on.

Children on bicycles wheeled through the congested parking lot beside the school, while a group of older men in checkered lumberman’s jackets surveyed the scene from their folding chairs at the lawn’s untrafficked edge. The fineness of the day was the observation most frequently exchanged. Wives supervised their aproned husbands in the preparation of steamer clams and cauldrons of lobsters, while they shucked
the last good ears of the late corn for the boiling pots.

A small Ferris wheel and several games of chance were set apart on the fieldlike lawn, operated by a group of swarthy strangers who had arrived on the morning ferry as they did each year. The teen aged girls giggled flirtatiously as they loitered nearby, but the men only flashed polite smiles and kept their distance. By sundown they would be packed up and gone again, their metal wheel dismantled despite the dismayed protests of the children—the same children who now screamed in terror at its climb.

Holding her pie plate aloft, Maggie threaded her way through the noisy crowd. Children with their faces painted like goblins darted past her, shrieking at one another. Some of the people whom she passed looked familiar to her, although they did not acknowledge her when they accidentally caught her glance.

The spirited bustle of the fair made her feel lonely. Jess had left the house early, to help set up the firemen’s booth, while she set about baking her pie. It had taken longer to brown than the cookbook indicated, and Maggie wondered now how it had turned out. She longed for the sight of a friendly face, and she looked about for Jess, or even Evy. A group of glass vases and china tableware under the tent top caught her eye as she passed by. Maggie stepped over the supporting rope and began to sort through the collection of ancient knickknacks with her free hand. As she shifted her pie from her hand to the corner of the table, she felt all at once that she was being observed. Maggie looked up and saw Tom Croddick peering at her suspiciously.
The shopkeeper turned his back on her. Maggie replaced the teacup she was holding on the table and quickly escaped from the shadow of the tent.

She did not know in which direction to turn as she stood in the sunlight, blinking to adjust her eyes. Hazarding a guess, she walked toward the parking lot. Almost immediately she spotted the sign for baked goods. Maggie clutched her pie resolutely and headed in the direction of the banner. As she got closer she could see the table, covered in a faded blue tablecloth. The trays and tins of cakes, cookies, and buns were wrapped in plastic and aluminum. Above the table the sign floated, held aloft by two tomato sticks that had been nailed to the back of the table. Evy stood behind the display, arranging the baked goods the way she arranged her desk at work. The sight of her was oddly reassuring. Maggie smiled with relief as she approached the booth.

“Hi, there,” she said.

Evy started slightly, then greeted her with a broad smile. “Hi,” she said. Evy was not alone at the booth. Behind her a woman was bending over, writing on a note pad.

“I made a pie,” said Maggie, holding out the results of her morning in the kitchen.

“Good,” said Evy. “Just put it down on the table. Wherever it’ll fit.”

Maggie coughed uneasily and watched Evy resume her methodical ordering of goodies. “How’s it going?” she asked.