Yellow Mesquite (11 page)

“Mama?”

The screen opened a little. A woman Harley assumed was Sherylynne’s mother eased her head out, tilted up to one side, mouth open. Harley was surprised that she looked older than he expected, her face small, hard, knotty.
 

“What in the world…?” she began, her little red face blooming into a smile of surprise. She stepped down from the porch onto the concrete step, arms open.
 

“Mama, it’s so good to see you!” Sherylynne said, clasped in the woman’s little birdlike grip.
 

“Sherylynne, honey…” her mother began, taking a half-step back, clutching Sherylynne’s upper arms, looking her up and down, her eyes wet.
 

Sherylynne stood back, half turning to Harley. “Mama,” she said, voice breaking a little, “this is Harley that I wrote you about. Harley, this is my mom.”

Her mother’s expression fell just a shade as she took him in. “Martha Riley,” she said distantly, offering her hand.

Harley stepped up alongside Sherylynne and shook her mother’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said. He could see she was sizing him up.

“Harley…yes…” Her mother looked briefly from one to the other. “Well, now. Y’all come on in.” She took another look at Harley, then they followed her inside the screened porch and on into the living room.

“I was just about to make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but I’ll thaw out some catfish and make us all a nice dinner.”

“No, no,” Sherylynne said. “We picked up some burgers and fries in Orange. They might need heating up a little by now.”
 

“Oh, you needn’t a-done that,” her mother said.

Sherylynne glanced toward the hallway leading off the kitchen. “Farrell shipping?”

“He’s prob’ly going through the Panama Canal about now,” her mother said with a little nervous giggle.
 

“Are you doing okay here by yourself?” Sherylynne asked.

“Oh, yes. My brother, Willard, he comes by now and then. He’s the one brought the catfish. He does that.”

“I wish you’d get a telephone.”

“Well, you know. Farrell says they cost too much, all the calls and whatever.”

“He still picking up jobs, hanging out at the union hall in Orange?”

“And sometimes Beaumont and Lake Charles, yes.”

“I’ll bring the food in,” Harley said.
 

“Can you carry it all?”

When he returned, Mrs. Riley directed him to the kitchen where he set the two bags of burgers and fries on the Formica table. “I’ll get the Cokes. They’re warm, though.”

“Cold burgers and warm Cokes,” Sherylynne said, smiling. He saw she was watching him, more relaxed now, the light of affection in his eyes.

“Not to fret,” her mother said. “I’ll fire up the oven and get out the ice.”

When they were well into their burgers, Sherylynne said, “So. You got my letter about the under-age form?”

Mrs. Riley stopped eating. She glanced one to the other, then lowered her gaze. “Yes. I got it.”

“You didn’t answer back.”

Mrs. Riley laid her half-eaten hamburger back on her plate, a furtive glance at Harley. “Honey, you didn’t expect me to agree to you marrying somebody I never even seen?”

“I respect that,” Harley said quickly. “I wouldn’t let my daughter marry some guy I never met, either.”

Her mother studied him from her slightly lowered face. “You seem like a nice-enough young man, but I don’t know anything about you.”

Harley set his own burger back on the plate. “Yes, ma’am. That’s one reason I was looking forward to meeting you. So we could get to know each other.”

“We’re hoping to get everything done in the morning and get back to Dallas before night,” Sherylynne said.

“Well, I couldn’t help you, even if I wanted to.”

“What do you mean?” Sherylynne said.

Her mother fingered the remains of her hamburger, turned it over on the napkin, turned it back. “Farrell said I wasn’t signing no such paper.”

“What?” Sherylynne said, her voice rising.

“You know how he is,” her mother replied.

“Yes,” Sherylynne said. “I know how he is all right! A sorry son of a bitch is what he is!”
 

Her mother gasped. “Sherylynne!”
 

Harley was shocked, too. He stared as Sherylynne in open-mouthed surprise.

“I don’t care!” she shouted. “He’s sorry as the day is long, and you know it!”

Her mother drew herself up, chin trembling. “He’s a good Christian man, and he brings home regular paychecks! That’s better’n your own daddy did!”

“My own daddy’s dead. You shouldn’t talk about him like that.”

“Sherylynne, you don’t know nothing about it.”

“I know that release form is between you’n me. Not him!”

“Well…I’m sorry about that,” her mother said, withering a little, settling back into her chair.
 

“Mrs. Riley,” Harley said impulsively, “Sherylynne’s pregnant.”
 

 
Sherylynne’s stared, her mouth open, cheeks pale beneath her freckles.
 

Mrs. Riley seemed to shrink, withering before his eyes. “Oh, dear Jesus,” she whispered, so faint and raspy he barely heard.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Harley said. “Just trying to make clear why we need that release form.”

Mrs. Riley turned on Sherylynne, tiny, red-rimmed eyes glossing over. “I should’ve known!
Pregnant
!” She started to get up from the table, but her legs failed and she sat back down. “Dear Lord,” she whispered, leaning forward, face cupped in her hands, “what’re we a-comin’ to?”

Sherylynne turned on Harley. “You didn’t have to be so, so
blunt
!”

“Sorry,” he said. “But I don’t know how to soft pedal something like this. The fact is, here we are, off down here in Louisiana, and as far from being married as last year! Any suggestions?”

He was mad, he realized, not at her, but at the situation they were in, at her mother’s stubbornness.

“Would you’ve signed that paper if Farrell hadn’t objected?” Sherylynne asked.

“If I’d a-known you was pregnant? Of course I would.”

“Why?” Sherylynne said bitterly. “You afraid I might move back here to live with you? Not married and with a baby?”

Her mother drew a sharp breath. “Sherylynne, honey, please. Don’t talk like that.”

“Mrs. Riley,” Harley said, “I’ll be good to Sherylynne, try to make her a decent living and be a good father.”
 

Sherylynne looked at him, her expression softening.

“You working then? You got a job?” Mrs. Riley asked him, eyes narrowed.

“Yes, ma’am. I work for Dallas Power & Light, but I’m thinking of going to work in the oilfields out around Midland. I can make a lot more money and Sherylynne wouldn’t have to work.”

Her mother narrowed her gaze further. “You’re not a job-hopper, are you?”

“I don’t think so. This is the only job I’ve had since leaving home.” He took a deep breath. “Mrs. Riley, if you’re willing, I’ll get a room, then pick you both up in the morning. We’ll go back to Orange, get that form signed, then Sherylynne and I’ll bring you back and head for home.”

Sherylynne’s gaze shifted between them, one to the other.
 

“Actually,” her mother said after a moment, “there’s a little motel just up the road a piece.”

“You agree then?” Harley said.

Sherylynne got up; she stood over her mother and kissed the top of her head.
 

Her mother tilted her face up. “I just pray I’m doing the right thing.”

“I don’t think he’ll want to stay in that little motel,” Sherylynne said.

They both looked at her. “Why not?” her mother said.

“Well…I don’t know…” She shrugged. “It looks so dumpy. There’s nicer places just across the river in Orange.”

“I’ll stay here,” Harley said. “I’m sure it’s cheaper.”

“Well, then, it’s settled,” her mother said, appearing to relax a little. “In the meantime, we can visit, get to know each other.” She looked at Harley, a grim hint of a smile. “You
do
seem like a nice young man.”

“Thank you.” A long silence settled over the room. Harley glanced about. “Well, here we are. You got anything you need done around here? We’ve got the afternoon. I’m pretty handy.”

“Handy?” her mother said, her gaze drifting in thought, “I
do
have a hinge coming loose on that back door.”

The screw holes were wallowed out. He packed them with steel wool and the screws held, good as new.
 

Sherylynne appeared to relax as Harley and Mrs. Riley became more comfortable with one another. They told stories of their growing up days, his in dry West Texas with farmers and ranchers, Mrs. Riley’s on a bayou near Alexandra, Louisiana. Her mother seemed to enjoy telling about growing up in a family of hunters, fishermen, and sawmill workers.
 

Harley offered to take them to dinner that night, but her mother insisted on frying the catfish.
 

“Mrs. Riley, that’s the best meal I ever had,” he said. Her mother smiled. Sherylynne glowed.
 

Afterward, Harley said goodnight to Mrs. Riley. Sherylynne walked him to the car. “You
are
coming back?” she said.

Harley gave her a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”
 

She laughed uneasily and kissed him goodnight. He got in the old Ford and left for the Cypress Motel over on the highway.

THE HOUSE WAS
shrouded in a light fog when he returned the next morning, the sun a thin copper disk in the pale vapor above the treetops. Mrs. Riley let him in. She gave him coffee and offered to make oatmeal. He accepted coffee, but passed on breakfast. “We’ll grab a bite in Orange,” he said. Sherylynne appeared after a moment, looking radiant, though her eyes were red, as if she hadn’t slept.
 

It was damp out, a little chilly, the fog evaporating. Mrs. Riley was oddly cheerful, considering the mission, the fact that Sherylynne was pregnant.
 

They had breakfast at a coffee shop in Orange. Afterward, they found the county clerk’s office. They each presented their birth certificates, and Mrs. Riley signed the underage form.
 

“Can we get our marriage license now?” Harley asked.

“Yessir, but there’s a seventy-two hour waiting period before you can get married.”

“Is the license good anywhere? Can we get married in Dallas?”

“Anywhere in the state of Texas. Yessir.”

They drove Sherylynne’s mother back to Vinton. She gave Sherylynne twenty dollars and two old crock platters that had belonged to her grandmother.

Sherylynne hugged her mother. “Mama,” she said softly, “I’m not gonna let you down. You’ll see.”

Her mother dabbed at her eyes. “I just pray I’m doing the right thing.”

The swamps and humidity gave way to high prairie and thinner air as they drove out of East Texas toward Dallas.

Chapter 12

Canned

O
N TUESDAY HARLEY
showed up for work at the
DP&L
truck barn, his mind reeling with the significance of what he and Sherylynne were about to do.
 

Marriage.
 

Every aspect of his life would be changed. His decisions would no longer be just his. He loved Sherylynne, but he wondered if he would have married her if he’d had any other choice. He would, of course, but maybe not at this time. As Sidney pointed out, what about New York and art school?

In silence, he rode under the tarp in back of the sand truck with Berry and Moon to the Hampton pole yard. As always, Pellerd drove.
 

“Missed you yesterday,” Berry said, watching him, expectant.
 

“Thanks,” Harley said, volunteering nothing.

“Boss said you got married,” Moon ventured.

Harley, somewhat taken aback, grinned a little. “Not yet. Just taking care of the paperwork.”

The “boss” was Nick, the job foreman who rode in the A-frame with Chet. Chet drove the truck that maneuvered the A-frame under Nick’s orders. Harley had gotten permission from Nick to take the day off. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Nick blabbed.
 

Soon they were shoveling sand up into the pickup bed. Pellerd took a paper cup and filled it with water from the keg mounted on the side. He fixed Harley with a malicious grin. “We carried you yesterday while you was out knocking off a little poontang.”

Harley paused.
 

“Cajun girls,” Pellerd said, a lascivious grin, “they got the tightest pussy. It’s from eating all those snapping turtles. They get a lock on that thing, and they won’t let go.”

“Let me tell you something, Pellerd. First, you didn’t carry me and you never will. If anybody gets carried around here, it’s you. Second, your scum-bag mouth is getting you close to serious trouble.”

Pellerd took a half-step forward, teeth clenched. Berry and Moon stood back. Harley lifted his shovel like a baseball bat.

“You come on,” he said. “You can whip me, but you’re going to know it first.”

Pellerd hesitated, his grin drying up. “What, you on the rag?”

Harley said nothing.

Pellerd squinted. “The only thing saving your sorry ass is I don’t wanna get fired.”

“You stay off my case and we’ll be fine.”

After a moment, Pellerd dropped the paper cup and picked up his shovel. Berry and Moon looked at each other, then went back to work.

At noon, they ate bagged lunches in the shade of a tree behind a 7-Eleven just off Loop 12. They ate mostly in silence. Berry confided in an aside to Harley that Buddy Denton had filled in for him the day before.
 

Harley was aware of Pellerd studying him, as if he wanted to say something, searching his brain for just what.

They finished lunch. Berry and Moon lit cigarettes. Pellerd crunched a Coke can in his fist, stood up and tossed it aside. “Okay, girls, off of your ass and on your feet, outta the shade and in the heat.” Acting like he was the boss. They climbed into the back of the truck and Pellerd drove them back to the Hampton pole yard to reload.