Casteel 1 - Heaven (12 page)

I felt hollow inside, beset with worries far too heavy for my years; when I gave it more thought, I realized there was many a girl my age with a family of her own. Still, those girls didn't desire a college education as I did. They were happy to live out their lives being wives and mothers, and living in shacks, and if their men beat them once a week, they thought it their due.

“Heaven, aren't ya comin?” Tom asked as he readied himself for school.

I glanced again at Grandpa, at Our Jane who was feeling poorly. She'd barely tasted the best breakfast we'd had in weeks.

“You go on, Tom, with Fanny and Keith. I can't leave Our Jane when she's not feeling well. And I want to see that Grandpa doesn't just sit and rock and forget to walk around.”

“He's all right. He can take care of Our Jane.”

I knew, even as he said that, he didn't believe it; he blushed and bowed his head and looked so miserable I felt like crying again. “In a few days we'll all adjust, Tom. Life will go on, you'll see.”

“I'll stay home,” Fanny volunteered. “An I'll take kerr of Our Jane an Grandpa.”

“A perfect solution,” Tom agreed happily. “Fanny's not ever going to finish high school. She's old enough to do somethin simple.”

“Okay,” I said as a test. “Fanny, first you'll have to give Our Jane a cool bath. You'll have to see that she drinks eight glasses of water a day, and make her eat a little food off and on, and walk Grandpa back and forth to the outhouse, and do what you can to clean up and keep this place tidy.”

“Goin t'school,” stated Fanny. “I ain't no slave t'Grandpa, ain't no motha t'Our Jane. I'm goin where t'boys are.”

I might have known.

Reluctantly Tom backed toward the door. “What should I tell Miss Deale?”

“Don't you tell her Sarah ran off and left us!” I flared hotly. "You just say I'm staying home to help out with all there is to do when Grandpa's feeling bad

and Our Jane is sick. That's all you tell her, understand?"

“But she could help.” “How?” "I don't know how, but I'll bet she could think

of something.“ ”Thomas Luke, if you hope to reach your goals

in life, you can't go around begging for help. You rise above all difficulties and find your own solutions. Together you and I will see this family through, and find ways to stay healthy. You say anything you have to say to keep Logan and Miss Deale unaware that Ma has walked out on us . . . for she might come back any minute, once she realizes what she did was wrong. We wouldn't want to shame her, would we?"

“No,” he breathed, appearing relieved. “She sure could come back once she thinks more about how wrong it is to go.”

He took Keith's right hand, and Fanny took Keith's left hand, and off they set toward the school, leaving me standing on the porch with Our Jane in my arms. She wailed to see Keith trudging dutifully toward school, while I longed to be there with them.

First thing I did after bathing Our Jane and putting her into the big brass bed was to hand

Grandpa his whittling knives and his pieces of prime wood. “Whittle something Granny would like, say a doe with big sad eyes. Granny had a special liking for doesdidn't she?”

He blinked once or twice, glanced at the empty rocking chair he refused to use even though it was the best one, and two fat tears slid down his wrinkled cheeks. “Fer Annie,” he whispered when he picked up his favorite knife.

I turned my attention back to Our Jane, and dosed her fever as I thought Granny would have done, with herbal medicine, and then I set about doing all that Sarah used to do before she turned on us.

Tom seemed stricken when he came from school to see if Ma had returned and found she hadn't. “I guess it's up t'me now t'be the man in t'family,” he said, as if overwhelmed by all he'd have to do. “Won't be no money comin in if somebody doesn't go out an make it. Yard jobs are hard t'find when ya don't have t'right equipment. Stores don't give away food staples, an what we got won't last nearly long enough. An we sure could all use new shoes. Heavenly, ya kin't go t'school wearin shoes without toes.”

“I can't go to school, shoes or not,” I said tonelessly, wiggling my toes that stuck out of shoes

much too small, so I'd had to cut them. “You know I can't leave Grandpa alone, and Our Jane isn't well enough to go back to school. Tom, if only we had money enough to take her to a doctor.”

“Doctors kin't help what she's got,” mumbled Grandpa with his head bowed low. “Somethin inside Our Jane don't work right, an ain't no doctor kin give her what she needs.”

“But how do you know that, Grandpa?” I chal- lenged.

“Annie had a youngun once, same as Our Jane. Put him in a hospital, they did. Cost me an Annie all our savins . . . an didn't do one bit of good. Sweetest boy I eva had up an died on Easter Sunday. Tole myself he was like Christ on t'cross, too good an too sweet fer this mean ole world.”

There went Grandpa talking just like Granny, when he'd never said much of anything when she lived. “Grandpa, don't say things like that!”

“No, Grandpa,” put in Tom, holding fast to my hand. “Doctors can save people from dying. Medicine gets better year by year. What killed your son doesn't have to kill Our Jane.”

Tom stared at me with wide, frightened eyes as we readied ourselves for bed after a meal of more

fried taters, more sausage, and biscuits and gravy, and apples for desert. All the energy drained from his eyes. “What are we gonna do, Heavenly?”

“Don't you worry, Tom. You, Fanny, Keith, and Our Jane will go to school. I'll stay home and take care of Grandpa, and do the wash, and cook the meats. I know how,” I finished defiantly.

“But it's you who loves school, not Fanny.”

“Don't matter. Fanny's not responsible enough to stay home and run things.”

“She acts that way on purpose,” said Tom, tears in his eyes. “Heavenly, no matter what you say, I am gonna tell Miss Deale. Maybe she can think of some- thing that will help.”

“No! You can't do that. We've got our pride, Tom, if we don't have anything else. Let's save something we can cherish.”

Pride was important to both of us. Perhaps because it was something free, something that made us feel important. We, Tom and I, had to prove ourselves to the world, and also to ourselves. Fanny wasn't included in our pact. Fanny already had proven herself untrustworthy.

Coping . TOM HURRIED HOME EACH DAY TO

HELP ME WITH THE wash, with the floor scrubbing, with taking care of Our Jane; then he'd chop wood, always he had to chop wood. Sometimes we all ran about madly, trying to round up hogs and pigs that had escaped our frail fence rails, our chickens which were one by one being killed off by bobcats or foxes, or stolen by vagabonds.

“Did Logan ask about me again today?” I quizzed when I'd missed three days of school.

“He sure did. Got me after school and wanted to know where you are. How ya are. Why ya don't come. I told him Sarah is still sick, an Our Jane, too, an ya had to stay home an take care of everybody. Boy, ya never saw anybody look so unhappy as he did.”

I was happy to know that Logan really cared, and at the same time I felt angry to be so mired in our troubles. With a pa who had syphilis. With a stepmother who ran out on her responsibilities. Oh, life wasn't fair!

I was angry at the world, at Pa most of all, for

he'd started all of this. And what did I go and do but turn on the person I loved most. “Stop saying yer instead of yourand ya instead of you!”

Tom grinned. “I love you, Heavenly. Now, did I say that right? I appreciate what you do to make this a family . . . did I say that correctly? I'm glad you are what you are, different from Fanny.”

I sobbed, turned, and fell into his arms, thinking he was the best thing in my lifeand how could I tell him now that I wasn't wonderful, special, or anything but a cynical, hateful person who hated my life, and the man who'd made it what it was?

Two weeks after Sarah left I just happened to glance out a front window and there was Tom trekking home with more books, and beside him was Logan! Tom had broken his word and told Logan of our desperate situation!

Instantly I went on the defensive and ran to the door, blocking both Tom's and Logan's entrance. “Let us in, Heavenly,” ordered Tom. “It's mighty cold out here for you to stand there in the way like a human wall.”

“LET EM IN!” shrieked Fanny. “YER LETTIN OUT T'HEAT!”

“You don't - want to come in here,” I said

hostilely to Logan. “City boys like you would shiver with disgust.”

I saw his lips tighten with surprise; then came his voice of calm determination. “Heaven, step aside. I am coming in. I am going to find out just why you don't go to school anymoreand Tom's right, it is cold out here. My feet feel like ice.”

Still I wouldn't move. Behind Logan Tom signaled wildly for me to stop acting like a fool, and let Logan in. “Heavenly . . you'll waste all our wood if you keep holding that door open.”

I started to push the door shut, but Logan forced me backward and entered with Tom close behind him. It took both of them to shove the door closed when the wind was so strong behind it. For a lock we had a board that dropped down and secured the door as a latch.

His face cold and red, Logan turned to me apologetically. “I'm sorry I had to do that, but I no longer believe Tom when he says Our Jane is sick and Sarah isn't feeling well. I want to know what's going on.”

He had on dark glasses. Why, on a dull gray winter day when the sunlight was frail and hardly existent? He wore a warm winter jacket that reached

his hips, while poor Tom had only secondhand sweaters, worn in layers that at least kept his upper torso warm, if not his bottom half.

I stepped aside, resigned. “Come in, Sir Logan, said the maiden in distress, and enjoy what you see.” He stepped closer, turned his head, seeming to

peer around, while Tom hurried over to the stove and began to warm his hands, his feet, before he even bothered to take off a few sweaters. Fanny, crouched as close to the stove as possible, was not about to give up her place or her bed pallet, though she did set about combing her hair in a big hurry, and she fluttered her long black lashes and smiled at Logan invitingly. “Come sit here with me, Logan.”

Tom ignored her, as did Logan. “Well,” said Tom cheerfully, “this is home to us, Logan.”

Obviously Logan didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

“You really don't need sunglasses in here, Logan,” said I, moving to pick up Our Jane; then I sat to rock her back and forth in Granny's old rocker. The minute I did that, the squeaking of the floor encouraged Grandpa to reach for his whittling and be1 t another rabbit. His eyesight for near work was very good, but once you were six feet away, he couldn't see

much. I suppose I must have looked to him like Granny when she was young and holding a child on her lap. Keith ran to climb up on my lap as well, though he was getting too big and heavy for this kind of cuddling. Still, the three of us together warmed each other.

It was so embarrassing to have Logan here, at our poorest time. I busied myself wiping Our Jane's runny nose, and I tried to put her tousled hair in order. I didn't notice what Logan did until he was seated near the table, and he had his head turned my way. “It's a long, cold walk up this mountain, Heaven. The least you could do is make me feel welcome,” he said with reproach in his voice. “Where's Sarah? I mean your mother.”

“We don't have an indoor bathroom,” I said harshly. “She's out there.”

“Oooh . .” His voice was weak, his face flushed from my frank information. “Where's your pa?”

“Working somewhere.” "I wish I could have known your granny. And

I'm still sorry." So was I.

So was Grandpa, who stopped whittling and looked up, a fleeting shaft of sorrow wiping away the

contentment he'd just found in some memory image. "Tom, I've got my hands full. Would you please

boil some water so we can serve Logan hot tea, or cocoa?"

Tom stared at me with astonishment and spread his hands wide. He knew we didn't have tea or cocoa.

Still, he rummaged about in the almost empty cabinet, and came up with some of Granny's sassafras, giving Logan worried looks before he put the water on to boil.

“No, thank you, Tom, Heaven. I've got only a short time to stay, and it's a long trek back to Winnerrow. I want to get there before dark since I don't know my way like you do, being a city boy.” Logan smiled my way, then leaned forward. “Heaven, tell me how you are. Surely your mother can look out for Our Jane when she's sick. And Fanny's stopped going to school-- why?”

“Oh,” said Fanny, looking more alert, “ya missed me, huh? Why, ain't that sweet of ya. Who else misses me? Anybody been askin where I am?”

“Sure,” Logan said in an offhand way, still staring at me, “all of us wonder why the two prettiest girls in the school stay away.”

What could I say to embellish bleak lives of

hunger and cold? All he had to do was look around to see how poorly we lived. Why did he just keep his head turned toward me, refusing to stare at a room with no creature comforts but those rolled-​up straw mattresses we put on the floor? “Why are you wearing dark glasses, Logan?”

He stiffened. “I guess I never told you I wear contacts. That last fight I had, well, a fist hit me in the eye, and the lens cut my iris, and now my ophthalmologist wants me to keep strong light out of my eyes, and when you favor one eye, you have to favor the other as well, or wear an eyepatch. I prefer the shades.”

“Then you can hardly see a thing, can you?”

He flushed. “Not much, to be honest. I see you as a dim figure . . . and I think you've got Our Jane and Keith on your lap.”

“Logan, she's not Our Jane t'ya . only t'us,” Fanny spoke up. “Ya kin call her jus Jane.” “I want to call her what Heaven calls her.” “Kin ya see me?” Fanny asked, standing up,

and when she did, she had on only her panties with several of Granny's old shawls about her shoulders . . . and beneath those shawls she was bare from the waist up. Her tiny breasts were just beginning to poke out

like hard green apples. Fanny carelessly let the shawl fall open as she rose and sauntered about barefooted. Oh, the shame of her doing that, in front of Logan. . . and Tom!

“Go put on clothes,” ordered Tom, red-​faced. “Ya ain't got enough of anything fer anyone t'notice anyway.”

“But I will have!” screamed Fanny. “Have bigga an betta than Heaven eva will!”

Logan stood to go. He waited for Tom as if he needed help finding the doorwhen it was right in front of him. “If you can't talk to me when I walk all this way, Heaven, I'm not coming again. I thought you knew I am your friend. I came to prove that I care, and I worry when I don't see you for so long. Miss Deale worries. Just tell me this before I go. . . are you all right? Do you need anything?” He paused for my answer, and when I didn't give it, he asked: “Do you have enough food? Wood? Coal?”

“We don't have enough of nothin!” yelled Fanny loudmouth.

Logan kept his eyes on me, not on Fanny, who'd covered herself again and was now curled up as if half asleep.

"What makes you think we wouldn't have

enough to eat?" I asked, pride making my voice haughty.

“I just want to make sure.”

“We're fine, Logan, just fine. And of course we have wood and coal”

“WE DO NOT!” cried Fanny. “We've neva had coal! Wish t'God we did. Heard tell it burns hotter than wood!”

Quickly I spoke. “As you know, Logan, Fanny is a greedy soul and out to get all she can, so ignore anything she says. We're fine, as you can plainly see. I do hope your damaged iris will heal soon and you can take off those dark glasses.”

Now he appeared offended and stayed close behind Tom, who led the way out. “Good-​bye, Mr. Casteel,” he said to Grandpa. “See you later, Keith, Our Jane . . and keep your clothes on, Fanny.” He turned one last time to me, reaching out as if to touch me, or perhaps it was a motion to draw me to him. I sat on, determined not to contaminate his life with Casteel troubles. “I hope soon you'll be coming back to school, Heaven.” And he flicked his hand to include Fanny and Keith and Our Jane. "If you ever do need anything, or just want something, remember my dad has a store full of things, and what we don't

have there, we can get elsewhere.“ ”How nice for you," was my sarcastic reply,

showing no gratitude at all. “Must make you feel grand and rich. . why, it's a wonder you'd even bother with a hillbilly girl like me.”

I pitied him as he stood there in the open door, staring at me, not knowing what to say. “Good-​bye, Heaven. I risked the good health of my vision coming to see you when the sun on the snow up here is not what I'm supposed to seeyet I came anyway. I'm sorry I did now. I wish you luck, but I'll not be coming again just to be insulted.”

O000h, don't go away feeling hurt, Logan. .

please

. but I didn't say those words. I just rocked on and on and allowed him to slam out the door, with Tom chasing after, to see him through the woods where he might get lost, and down the safest trail to the valley, where he'd never lose himself, even wearing those damned glasses.

“Boy, were you hateful to Logan,” said Tom when he returned. "Durn if I didn't feel sorry for him, trekking all this way up here, almost blind, t'meet with a hateful girl who snapped her eyes at him, and lied her crazy head off . . ya know we don't have anything

much. An he could help.“ ”Tom, do you want everyone to know that Pa

has . . you know.“ ”No . . . but do we have to tell him about Pa?"

“We'd have to give some reason why he isn't here, wouldn't we? I guess Logan presumes he's still coming and going, and more or less providing.”

“Yeah, I guess yer right,” agreed Tom, sinking into dialect when he was discouraged and hungry. “Back to t'fishin lines, t'traps, so keep yer fingers crossed.” And with briefly warmed hands and feet, he again left the cabin to search for food. Never could we keep our laying hens when our cooking pot called them to early deaths.

Life not only grew a thousand times more difficult after Sarah left, it also grew impossibly complicated. Pa didn't come home. That meant no money to buy what we needed to keep us going. Our kerosene was so low we had to use candles.

Hours passed that seemed like bits of eternity, waiting for life to begin when Tom came home with Fanny and Keith, and sometimes Our Jane. I wanted to convince myself that Grandpa didn't matter, and I could go to school when Our Jane recovered, and he'd take care of himself just fine. But all I had to do was

look at him a - rid see how lost he was without Granny. “Go on,” said Grandpa one day when I had the cabin tidy but was wondering what we'd eat tonight. It was almost Thanksgiving. “I don't need ya. Kin do fer myself.”

Maybe he could, but the next day Our Jane came down with another cold. “Hongry . . .” she wailed, running to tug on my shiftlike garment. “Wanna eat.”

“Sure, honey. You just go back to bed and rest, and in no time at all, supper will be ready.” How easily I said that, how lightly, when there wasn't anything in the house to eat but some stale biscuits left over from breakfast, and a half-​cupful of flour. Oh, why hadn't I rationed the food we'd had when Sarah left? Why was it I thought Pa would always show up, as if by magic, just when our supplies ran out? Where was he anyway?

“Tom, is it possible to fish after dark?” I asked.

He looked up from his reading, startled. “You want me to go out in the dark and fish?”

“You could also check your rabbit traps.”

“I already checked them before I came home from school. Nothing. And at night, how could I find what I hide so well?”

“That's why you've got to fish now,” I said in a whisper near his ear, “or there's nothing to eat but two biscuits, and I'll be lucky if I can scrape enough lard out of the can to make the gravy.” I was whispering, for if Our Jane heard, or Keith did, there'd be such a clamor none of us could stand it. Our Jane's stomach had to be fed on time or it hurt. Hurting tummy made her wail, and when she was wailing, it was impossible to do anything.

Tom got up and took a rifle down from the wall. He checked it for buckshot. “Deer season just opened, so maybe I kin draw a bead on somethin . . doe or not.”

“Ya mean we ain't got nothin t'eat if ya don't shoot a deer?” shouted Fanny. “Jesus Christ, we'll starve t'death iffen we have t'depend on yer shootin!”

Tom stalked to the door, threw Fanny a hard, long look of disgust, then smiled at me. “Go on, get your gravy readyand in half an hour I'll be back with meatif I'm lucky.”