The Waltons 1 (10 page)

The only thing, he finally decided, was to tell her the truth.

VI

T
here were none of the usual subdued sounds of early morning when John-Boy woke up. And instead of the predawn darkness, the sun streamed brilliantly through his window. John-Boy sat up with alarm, his first thought being that he would be late for school. Then he smiled and dropped back to the pillow. It was Monday, but it was spring vacation.

From outside the window he could hear the squeals and laughter of the other children, and then the long screech of his father’s saw cutting down the length of a board. Apparently everyone else had been up for hours. Jenny! he suddenly thought. She was probably downstairs waiting for him. He jumped from the bed and hurriedly dressed.

“Good morning, John-Boy,” Jenny said happily when he came in the kitchen. The table was cleared and the dishes done, and Jenny was helping his mother shell peas. She looked more beautiful than ever in a fresh white blouse and flowered skirt. “Your mother wanted to wake you up, but I wouldn’t let her. She’s been telling me all about how she and your father met each other. Did you know they were childhood sweethearts? I think that’s wonderful.”

Olivia smiled and got out a skillet and John-Boy sat down, not knowing exactly how to respond to Jenny’s bubbling manner. He wondered if she were angry with him and was trying to cover it up. “You should have woke me up.”

“Well, after last night I guess you could use some extra sleep,” his mother chuckled. She dropped three slices of bacon into the skillet and got out the pitcher of milk.

“You didn’t forget about taking me up to Walton’s Mountain, did you?” Jenny asked.

“No, I didn’t forget.” He smiled at her, but Jenny quickly turned her attention back to the peas.

“Are the other children goin’ with you-all?” his mother asked.

John-Boy caught the anxious undertone in her voice. But the last thing he wanted was a crowd of little kids around. He had lots of explaining to do to Jenny, and once that was over he was looking forward to being alone with her. “Well—”

“We’ll be glad to take them along, Mrs. Walton. I think it would be fun. Don’t you, John-Boy?”

While he ate breakfast his mother and Jenny talked about how the Pendletons were planning to redecorate their house. Jenny bubbled excitedly over curtain colors and new carpeting, and how she was going to plant a garden just like the Waltons had out in back. John-Boy ate silently, and neither his mother nor Jenny seemed to notice. When he finished Jenny jumped up and took his plate to the sink, but his mother waved her away.

“Don’t bother with those, I’ll do them. You just get the other children and run along.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Walton. And we won’t stay too long.” She gave John-Boy a fleeting smile and headed for the door.

John-Boy was certain she was angry now. She had avoided looking at him a half dozen times, and her gay manner was far too exaggerated. When he went out the back door she was already talking to the other children.

Mary Ellen, Ben, Jim-Bob, and Elizabeth had dug a huge hole in the backyard, and were now leveling the bottom, scooping out the last of the loose dirt.

“It’s a frog pond,” Mary Ellen was telling Jenny. “When they get a little bigger, we’ll have to dig more holes, of course. We’ll probably need twenty or thirty holes like this before the frogs are big enough to sell.”

“If they don’t all die first,” Erin said. She had her arms folded, peering cynically into the hole.

“They’re not goin’ to die,” Elizabeth said defiantly.

“Don’t pay any attention to her,” Mary Ellen said. “Jim-Bob, get the hose. We’re goin’ to fill her up.”

“How many tadpoles do you have?” Jenny asked.

“Three hundred for this hole. Come on everybody, out!”

Jenny seemed to be absorbed by the operation, and John-Boy watched as Jim-Bob turned on the hose and dragged it over. When the water began gurgling into the pit John-Boy glanced around.

“You-all are so busy I guess none of you wants to go up on the mountain, do you?”

“Can’t,” Ben said matter-of-factly. “Got too much work.”

“We’re not going to be long,” Jenny said. “And we’d love to have you.”

No one seemed to hear her. Jim-Bob looked anxiously at Mary Ellen. “Can we put the tadpoles in yet?”

“Not yet. Water’s still too muddy.”

Ben lifted his dirty hands and turned them over. “Yuuch, I’m all muddy too.”

Jim-Bob moved without warning. The hose whipped out of the pit and, grinning, he swung it toward Ben. “This’ll clean you off!”

Erin stumbled, backing away, and Jenny quickly stepped to the side avoiding the spray from Jim-Bob’s wild swinging of the hose. Everyone was suddenly shouting, with Mary Ellen screaming loudest for Jim-Bob to look out for the tadpoles. But the warning came too late. The hose dragged across the jar, and what looked like a million tadpoles suddenly gushed across the dirt and began squirming around in the mud.

“Jim-Bob, you dumb . . . ! Get ’em! Pick ’em up! Fast!”

Then everyone was on his knees in the mud, shouting, scooping tadpoles toward the water in the hole. John-Boy quietly touched Jenny’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

“But shouldn’t we help?”

“No,” John-Boy said. “It’s too crowded already.”

Jenny glanced from John-Boy to the mud, then moved hesitantly away. Mary Ellen’s voice followed them as they finally headed down the road. “How am I goin’ to get rich with you bunch of idiots around? Get the hose back in there, Jim-Bob! Elizabeth! There’s one right by your foot! Don’t step on it!”

From the kitchen window Olivia groaned inwardly as she watched the frenzy of bodies jumping in and out of the mud. In two minutes the six kids were dirtying enough overalls and dresses and socks to keep her scrubbing for the rest of the day. Even Erin and Jason, who professed to have no interest in getting rich with frogs’ legs, were now splattered from head to toe.

But as distressing as was the scene at the muddy frog pond, Olivia gazed even more anxiously at the road where John-Boy and Jenny Pendleton were walking away.

It was obvious what had happened. The other children were too occupied with the frogs to have any interest in going up to Walton’s Mountain. She should have expected as much. But the idea of two maturing teen-agers going off by themselves—

She bit indecisively at her lip and leaned closer to the window in an effort to see if John was out by the barn. But this was silly, she decided. She rinsed the last of the dishes, placed them on the drainboard, and got the dish towel.

When a boy reached a certain age, it was ridiculous for a mother to worry about whether he behaved himself or not. His character was well formed long before the age of seventeen, and he either knew right from wrong, or he didn’t. And there was nothing anybody could do about it. Would she continue to worry and watch out for John-Boy when he was eighteen, or nineteen, or twenty-one? Of course not. At some point she must face the issue courageously, and she must let the chips fall where they may.

And Jenny Pendleton—Olivia chewed lightly at her lip again as she thought about the girl. Jenny was very pretty, and as sweet and wholesome as she could be. But it was also obvious that she was quite taken by John-Boy. When he came down for breakfast she had babbled on and on, as nervous as a cat. But she was a sensible girl. She certainly wouldn’t let things get out of hand with John-Boy.

But what if something should happen? Those things happened so easily. Children might have no intention of doing anything wrong. They might be the finest children in the world, and have the finest of feelings and the best Christian upbringing. But nature was a powerful thing. And subtle. Oh, Lord, it was subtle and devious at times.

Olivia dried her hands, hung the dish towel neatly on its rack, and took a deep breath. It was probably useless to talk to John about these things. She had a good idea what he would say. Still, she had to have a clear conscience in the matter. She fixed a smile on her face and marched as casually as she could out the back door and across the yard.

“John,” she said when he finished cutting a heavy piece of lumber, “John-Boy has gone up to the mountain with Jenny Pendleton.”

He had turned off the saw motor and was smiling triumphantly as he ran his hand over the surface of the wood. “That so? Look at this piece of oak, Livvy girl. You don’t get many oak timbers this size. Likely bring two dollars down in Charlottesville.”

Olivia watched him as he bent forward and sighted along the smooth edge of the timber. It was obvious he had no idea what she was talking about.

“John-Boy and Jenny went up to the mountain alone. I tried to get them to take some of the other children, but they’re too busy with their tadpoles.”

John glanced over at the children. “Yep. Looks like we’re goin’ to have a backyard full of mudholes all summer.”

“John?”

“What’s the matter, Livvy?”

His sudden grin revealed that he knew exactly what she was talking about. Olivia stood perfectly still as he put an arm around her, kissed her lightly on the back of the neck, and moved to the far end of the timber.

“Yep,” he said, “I guess I could follow ’em up the mountain and make sure nothin’ happens. That wouldn’t be too much trouble. Then I can follow ’em around all day tomorrow. And I can follow John-Boy out there to the Baldwins’ and make sure he don’t touch any of that whiskey.” He grinned. “Or, better yet, we could lock John-Boy up till he’s twenty-one. Come to think of it, maybe that’s what my daddy should have done when I first met you, Livvy.”

Olivia couldn’t help smiling. John was right; at some time or another a few risks had to be taken. But she still ached for reassurance. “Do you really think it’ll be all right?”

“I don’t know. That Jenny Pendleton is a city girl, and from what I hear they’re pretty fast. I sure hope she don’t take advantage of one of us country folk.”

“John, I do wish you’d be serious sometimes.”

He came toward her, grinning. “Sometimes I’m so serious, Livvy, I can’t stand it.” He squeezed her hard and kissed her on the mouth. Olivia didn’t resist and he kissed her four or five times before he let her go.

As she straightened her dress and headed back to the house, Olivia felt some measure of reassurance. In his crazy way, John always seemed more sensible about things like this. Then, as she opened the screen door, she glanced over at the mudhole and felt herself flush deeply. The children were all staring at her, every one of them wearing a silly grin on his face.

To John-Boy, the chance of anything terrible happening with Jenny seemed extremely remote as they walked along the road. She kept well away from him, and her eyes flitted from trees and wild flowers to clouds and distant houses—everywhere but to him. All this was accompanied by a steady stream of chatter that John-Boy responded to with nods and murmurs of assent.

“You’re very quiet today, John-Boy,” she finally said as they started up the side of the mountain.

“I’m not gettin’ much chance to say anythin’.”

She smiled coolly to that. “Yes, I guess I do talk too much, don’t I.”

“I wanted to explain why I didn’t come over last night. And tell you I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to explain,” she shrugged. “In fact I really didn’t expect you at all.”

“But I—”

She suddenly scampered up a steep slope and broke into a run. “I’ll bet I can beat you to the top,” she called, and was gone, loping off into the forest.

John-Boy stood perfectly still for a minute, watching her. The first spring needles were coming out at the tips of the pine branches, and the new green oak leaves were brilliantly transparent in the dappled sunlight. John-Boy watched Jenny duck under branches and then disappear among the thickening trees. He knew she could not keep up that pace for long, and he moved slowly and steadily up the slope.

Five minutes later he was startled by a voice from the side and behind him.

“What’s your hurry?”

It was Jenny. She was sitting on a shaded rock, her chin cupped in her hands and breathing heavily.

“It’s only a half mile more,” he smiled.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was so far. Go on ahead if you want.”

“No, I’d rather go with you.”

She smiled, but quickly controlled it, looking off at the top of the mountain. “All right, let’s go.”

After they had walked another hundred yards John-Boy glanced over at her. “The reason I couldn’t come last night was because I was workin’.”

She made no response, her eyes fixed on the path ahead.

“I wanted to come, and I tried as hard as I could to get away. I’ve been workin’ for the Baldwin sisters. I’ve been tryin’ to earn enough money to buy Mama a washin’ machine.”

Jenny shrugged lightly, as if such information was of no interest to her.

“Anyhow, I didn’t get home till almost midnight. I expect that’s why I slept so late this mornin’. I felt awful about not makin’ it over to see you.”

Jenny was silent for another minute, then looked far ahead. “Is that the top of the mountain?”

“Yes it is.”

She smiled as if to herself and suddenly broke into long strides again. John-Boy kept within ten yards of her this time, all the while wondering what might be going on in her head. If Jenny Pendleton were his sister, Mary Ellen, or Erin, there would never be any doubts over what she was thinking about. Those two never hesitated to let people know their opinions. But Jenny was a complete mystery to him. One minute she talked a blue streak and the next minute she was a sphinx. John-Boy wondered if there was something else he had done that might be disturbing her.

The only things left from the original Walton cabin were parts of the foundation, the old stone fireplace and chimney, and a few rotted logs. As she approached, Jenny slowed her pace, and then moved reverently into the weed-grown site.

“Is this it?” she breathed.

“Uh-huh.” John-Boy moved to her side and stuck his hands in his pockets. He had been here so many times he no longer had any strong reactions to the place. His father had often talked about rebuilding it and moving the family back up the mountain. But the hard times of the Depression had postponed the idea so long it no longer seemed real.