Once Upon a Summer (7 page)
“When?”
“At the table.”
Now Grandpa knew full well how much visitin’ Lou and Jedd had done at the table. I doubt that there was even so much as “Pass the butter.” He gazed up at Lou. She looked back evenly, then rose and crossed over to behind his chair, and in her little girl way put her arms round his neck.
“Oh, Pa,” she said as she laid her cheek against his. “It needn’t spoil anything—honest. I just can’t stand Jedd Raw-leigh, that’s all. But if you—if you enjoy the company of Mrs. Rawleigh, that’s fine. I promise. I won’t interfere; I’ll be as agreeable and as—as—”
He jerked upright and looked at Lou like she’d lost her senses. Grandpa was gettin’ the full message now.
“You think that I—that I—you think that I care in some way fer the widow?”
“Don’t you?”
Grandpa’s face was beet red and the cords in his neck showed up plain.
“ ’Course not!” he stormed. “ ’Course not.”
“Then why—”
“I jest wanted you to—“ Grandpa was trapped and he knew it. He couldn’t let Lou know that he was out to get her married off; he couldn’t lie either. He finally sputtered to a close.
“Jest—jest forgit it. Forgit it all. It was all kinda a mistake—”
“But the widow Rawleigh,” cut in Auntie Lou.
“What about her?” Grandpa almost snapped, and he never snapped at Lou.
“We’re invited there for Sunday dinner.”
“We’ll go as we said.” Grandpa was definite on that.
“But she thinks—“ Lou hesitated.
“Thinks what?”
“Well,” said Lou rather perplexed by the whole new situation, “bein’ a woman myself and seein’, I’m sure she thinks that you
do
care.”
“What in the world would ever give her that idea?” Grandpa huffed.
“Well, you extended the invitation, you talked—alone—for many hours.”
Grandpa swung around.
“Where were the rest of you anyway? Charlie! Where did you disappear to so convenient? You could’ve listened to the account of her goiter operation jest as easily as me. Where’d you get to anyway? And Boy—” But I was already up the steps on the way to change my clothes and get to the woodpile. Thought that it wouldn’t hurt to chop a bit of extra wood; Lou must have used an awful lot in that old kitchen stove in order to cook a meal like that.
The topic of the Rawleighs was not discussed again. We did go there for Sunday dinner as promised, but we didn’t stay late, and Grandpa had given us all strict orders before we left home that no one was to desert the room. We thanked our host and hostess after a rather uneventful stay and headed for home.
Mrs. Rawleigh wasn’t half the cook that Auntie Lou was. Grandpa, more with silence than words, ordered the whole case dismissed.
Mentally I crossed Jedd Rawleigh from my list—a bit smugly, I’m afraid.
T
HE WHOLE EPISODE DID
manage to shake Grandpa up some, and I thought that maybe he’d drop any further efforts— but no such luck. I had gone to bed and was almost asleep when I heard the coffeepot rattlin’ and the murmurin’ of voices from the kitchen. I hiked myself out from under the warm covers and eased my way down the stairs. Sure enough, the two of them were at it again.
“ . . . weren’t either my own fault,” Grandpa was sayin’. “I was deserted, that’s all.”
“Well, the first mistake came by pickin’ on a widder. We
shoulda thought how it’d look. Tongues are still waggin’.”
Grandpa took a swallow of coffee that was too hot. I could
hear him gulping in air to cool his tongue.
“Whole thing was ridiculous. How people could think that I’d be—I’d be—.” He couldn’t find words to express his feelin’, so he jest ended with a “humph.”
There was the sound of Uncle Charlie pursin’ his lips and suckin’ in air and then a long contented sigh after the hot coffee washed down his throat. His chair hit the floor to rest on all four legs again.
“So we struck out,” he said matter-of-factly. “Nobody said that we were gonna git on base first time at bat. We ’xpected that it would take some time and some doin’, so we don’t quit now. We keep on a-lookin’ before some young punk decides to do some lookin’ on his own.
“You see those faces at church? Ya saw what happened last week? That there young Anthony Curtis, without a nickel to his name or a roof to put over his head, walked right up to Lou, twistin’ his hat in his hands ’til he nearly wore out the brim. He asked her outright iffen he could call.”
“I didn’t know ’bout that,” Grandpa replied with concern in his voice.
“We were lucky this time. The guy’s got a face like a moose.
But someday—someday it’ll be a good-looker and Lou will forgit to look past the face.”
“Did you hear Lou’s answer?”
“ ’Course I did. She said she was awful sorry-like, but she was awful busy gettin’ ready fer the arrival of her grandpa from the east, and after that it would be harvest and all.”
“Good for Lou.” Grandpa chuckled with relief. “She can set ’em down iffen she wants to.”
“That weren’t the
real
reason though.”
“ ’Course not. Like you say, the guy ain’t exactly a good-looker.”
“That weren’t the reason either.”
“No?”
“No.” Charlie paused. “It was Nellie Halliday. Lou knows that Nellie has had a crush on that there Anthony Curtis ever since she was twelve years old. Lou didn’t want to hurt her.”
“Nellie Halliday?” Grandpa chuckled again. “That’s sorta like a moose and a porcupine.”
Uncle Charlie was in no mood to appreciate Grandpa’s humor. “This ain’t gettin’ us nowhere. Let’s get down to business.”
“Who should we try for next?”
“You chose Jedd Rawleigh,” said Uncle Charlie; “how ’bout me havin’ a crack at it now?”
“Fair enough—long as you stick to the list we made up.”
“I’ll stick to the list.”
Uncle Charlie pored over the list, mentally examining each candidate. Grandpa waited.
“Hiram—Hiram Woxley. He looks the most likely man to me of who we’ve got here. Boy, there seems to be a dry spell of first-rate men ’round here.”
“Never noticed it before we started lookin’ fer a proper fella fer Lou. Thought the place was crawlin’ with ’em. Everywhere I go I—”
I left. I’d heard enough.
Hiram Woxley was a bachelor. No worry about a widowed mother there. For all I knew Hiram could have hatched under the sand. He had moved into the area fully grown and already on his own. Never had heard anything about any kin.
He was a decent enough fellow—about thirty, always clean-shaven and neat, quiet yet kinda forceful, attended church regularly, and stayed out of the way of girls and kids. He had a big well-kept farm to the south of town; I was sure that the farm, more than the man, had to do with his bein’ on the list.
I laid in bed a long time thinkin’ about Hiram Woxley. What had I heard about him? Most things ever said about him were good. In fact, I couldn’t right remember any disagreeable thing that I could put my finger on.
I was gettin’ sleepier and sleepier and my mind jest refused to keep workin’ on it when it suddenly hit me—his money! Word had it that Hiram Woxley was tight-fisted. In fact, I’d been in the hardware store one time when Hiram was making some purchases. He tried to argue—quietly but stubbornly—the price of everything that he bought. Heard the clerk say after he’d left that he always hated to see him come through the door. Rumor had it that he would about as soon lose a finger as part with a dollar. Surely I ought to be able to use that to some advantage. I made up my mind before givin’ in to sleep that come Sunday I’d see if I could find some way to sorta chat a bit with Hiram Woxley—that is, if I could get near him. As I said, he wasn’t much for kids.
On Sunday mornin’ I managed to somehow talk Auntie Lou into wearin’ her fanciest dress. It was the one that Grandpa had sorta insisted that Lou buy for Mary Smith’s weddin’ last spring. Grandpa liked to have Lou look her best, and even though she bucked at the price, he finally talked her into it. Auntie Lou did look like a million in that outfit.
When she came down the stairs to leave for church, I saw Grandpa and Uncle Charlie exchange worried looks. I could see that they were afraid with Lou walkin’ around lookin’ like that, some young fella was bound to get ideas before they had a chance to steer things in the right direction.
Lou went on out and I followed her, but I heard Grandpa whisper to Uncle Charlie, “Maybe it’ll be all right. Hiram has eyes, too.”
Uncle Charlie nodded. We left for church.
After the service I headed for the yard to see if I could spot old Hiram. The place was buzzin’. Everyone’s mind was on the fact that old Parson White had informed the church board of his wishes to retire before too long and that they should commence the search for a new man. Every tongue was waggin’. Most people were sure that they could never properly replace the well-loved parson. Sounded as though they would have been content to work him right into his grave. Questions were flyin’ back and forth—not that they expected anyone to have any worthwhile answers. Could they ever find anyone who would fit in as well as Parson and Mrs. White had done, and should they look for a man who gave inspiring addresses or one who understood and cared for the people? They all seemed to assume that you couldn’t have both wrapped in the self-same package.
I shrugged my way through it all. It meant nothin’ to me. Some of the older boys were beginnin’ to question this whole idea of church and why any red-blooded, adventure-seekin’ boy needed it anyway. It was more for old folks and kids. I thought about it sometimes, too. Anyway, it sure didn’t bother me none who the old man was who stood up at the front in the black suit and read from the Book. Guess one could do it ’bout as well as another.
I found Hiram over near the fence with some of the other single fellows. It wasn’t hard to figure out the game that was goin’ on. It was “ogle-the-girls,” or whatever you want to call it. As each of the girls made an appearance she was rated. The fellows gave their ratings with grins, elbows, nudges, and comments. Everyone there seemed to understand jest how the system worked.
I stood there quietly, knowin’ that they’d feel me too young to join in if they should notice me. Their full attention was on the church entrance as they waited for another candidate to make her appearance. In the meantime I inched my way cautiously a little closer to Hiram Woxley.
One by one the girls appeared and were judged by the fellows. Finally I saw Auntie Lou’s head appear above the crowd on the steps. By almost a miracle it seemed that the whole crowd cleared around her as she stopped to chat with the parson’s wife.
The sun was shining right down on her, reflectin’ a shimmer of light on the curls that fell to her shoulders. Her eyes were shining and even from where we stood you could see the blue of them. She was smiling—a beautiful, typically Auntie Lou smile, full of warmth and pleasure in living. Her dress was beautiful, but as I looked at her, even I could see that she would have been pretty even if she’d been wearin’ a feed sack.
Every guy around me seemed to hold his breath, and then as she moved on they all let it out at once. “Toad” Hopkins threw his hat in the air and let out a whoop. Shad Davies bellowed, “Whoo-ee!” while Burt Thomas and Barkley Shaw started to punch each other in the ribs, grinning like they were plumb crazy. Things finally settled down some.
“Wow,” said Joey Smith, “some looker!”
I figured that it was time to make my presence known. I took a big gulp of air.
“Well, she oughta be.” I tried hard to sound real disgusted.
“Coulda bought me all the fishin’ gear I’ve a hankerin’ for and a .22 rifle, too, for the money that her outfit cost my grandpa.”
I didn’t hang around to see what effect my words had, but pushed my way through the knot of fellows as though the thought of it all still made me mad. I figured I had at least given old Hiram something to be a-thinkin’ on. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t; I didn’t know, but I’d keep workin’ on it. Bit by bit a fella should be able to get the message across that a wife could end up costin’ a man a powerful lot of money. I was bankin’ on the fact that Hiram Woxley would want to be good and sure that she was worth it.
U
NCLE CHARLIE HAD FULFILLED
his duty in gettin’ the invitation to Hiram Woxley all right, but he was not able to make it for the next Sunday’s dinner. It seemed that there were others in the area who saw Hiram as a good prospect for their daughters. He had agreed to grace our humble home with his presence in two Sundays. I was glad for the breathin’ time.
I said nothin’ at all to Lou about the stir that she caused when she left the church—saw no reason to. Lou wasn’t the kind that would let it go to her head, but still I felt that it would serve no good purpose for her to be a knowin’.
Grandpa had been keepin’ a sharp eye on the south field, and on Tuesday he decided that it was ready to put the binder to it.
I loved harvest time, even if I knew it meant school again soon. Our school always started a little late to give the farm boys a chance to help their pas. When we did get back to class, the teacher worked us like crazy to get us caught up to where we should be. We really didn’t mind the extra work. We were glad for a chance to have the late summer and early fall days.
With Grandpa and Uncle Charlie now in the fields all of the chores fell to me. That was all right, though I was pretty tired some nights. A few times I could hardly wait for Grandpa to call, “Bedtime, Boy,” but I always managed to hang on.
I felt that with Hiram Woxley expected in a week-and-a-half, Uncle Charlie and Grandpa had no other immediate plans for Auntie Lou, so I kinda relaxed and let my thoughts go to other things.
I figured that it was about time for the fish in the crik to really start bitin’. I was anxious for a chance to get a try at them. I kept my eyes open for a break in my work that would give me a little fishin’ time.
Lou was busy, too. There was stuff from the garden that needed preservin’, and hungry men to feed every day and lunches to fix for me to run to the field, plus all of her usual household chores. She didn’t seem to mind it, though, but like me, she was good and ready for bed come nightfall.