Tenderness (3 page)

On down the road she found Mrs. Bailey barefoot in the garden with only a dirty stocking covering the toe that had been a
bloody mess a few days earlier. Jesse persuaded the woman to soak her foot in a washpan of warm water, then liberally doused
it with iodine and put a bandage on it. A half hour later she took her leave with a jar of dill pickles and a glass of chokecherry
jelly that had been carefully sealed with beeswax. The poor but proud hill folk never sent the doctor or his nurse away empty-handed.

When Jesse reached the Lesters’ neat little house set back in the woods, Granny was sitting in a bent-willow rocker on the
front porch with the ever-present snuff stick in the corner of her mouth. Before she got out of the buggy, Jesse could see
that the goiter in Granny’s neck was larger than when she and the doctor had visited a month earlier.

The house Grandpa Lester had brought Granny to as a bride was four rooms now—the original two in front and the two across
the back that had been added when the family increased. The porch was narrow and was sheltered by the sloping roof of the
house. The two front doors stood open to allow the breeze to circulate.

“Now ain’t ya just as pretty as a buttercup.” Granny spat snuff juice in the small tin can beside her chair before she spoke.

“Hello, Granny,” Jesse said, coming up the two steps to the porch. “Isn’t this a lovely day?”

“It’s as sightly a day as I ever did see. Come sit a spell.”

“Thank you, I will. How are you feeling?”

“As good as can be expected with this devilish thin’ growin’ in my craw.”

Jesse noticed that Granny’s eyes had started to bulge and that she was short of breath.

“How’s Grandpa?” Jesse asked while trying to think of a way to bring up the subject of the trip to Knoxville.

“Fair to middlin’. The boy come and helped him put his tobaccy in the shed.”

“One of your boys came home? How nice! The one from Huntsville or the one from Atlanta?

“Neither. Ain’t one of ‘m goin’ to dirty his hands with tobaccy. They be too high-toned fer that.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you had but the two.”

“We don’t.” Granny cocked her head to listen. “That’s Mr. Lester comin’ in.” Although everyone called the couple Granny and
Grandpa, they called each other Mr. and Mrs. Lester.

The bald-headed old man in the patched overalls came through the house and out onto the porch.

“Howdy,” he said to Jesse, then held up two dead squirrels by their bushy tails.

“Looky here, Mrs. Lester. They was on the back step, shot through the head like they is, ain’t no doubt ’out who left ’em.”

“The boy.” Grandpa nodded and Granny said, “Well, clean ’em, Mr. Lester, so the doctor can have squirrel for his supper.”

“Oh, no,” Jesse said quickly. “I’d dearly love to take them, but I’m afraid they’d not keep in this hot weather. I want to
stop and visit with Mrs. Frony on the way home.”

“Well, now, reckon there’s somethin’ to what ya say. Mr. Lester, didn’t ya say them vines was making taters? Go dig her a
mess to take home.”

“Grandpa,” Jesse said as the old man started to leave, “Papa sent some ointment for your hemorr—for your piles.” She bent
over the gaping top of the leather bag she had brought from the buggy and took out a flat, white tin. “Did sitting in the
warm, then cold water, help?”

“Some,” Grandpa said without looking at her. He took the tin. “Thanky.”

Because Jesse knew he was embarrassed, she said nothing more. When she was alone again with Granny Lester, she broached the
subject of the operation.

“Granny, your goiter is going to keep growing. It’s beginning to affect your eyes and your heart. Have you given any thought
to going to Knoxville and having it removed? Papa says it’s not a complicated operation, and seventy-five percent of the patients
get along fine. Of course, it depends on a person’s general health, and you seem to be fine otherwise.”

“I thought ’bout it oncet.” Granny spat snuff juice out of her mouth. “I ain’t goin’. Ain’t leavin’ Mr. Lester here all by
his own self. When it comes my time and the Lord calls me to the pearly gates, I’ll go. There ain’t no two ways about it.”

“You may leave Mr. Lester alone for quite a few years if you don’t have the goiter removed.”

“Fiddle-faddle. He’d not get along a winter without me. When ya get old yore supposed to die and that’s that. Hot, ain’t it?
Have a fan, it’ll stir the breeze.”

Granny handed Jesse a cardboard fan that advertised
ROSADALIS BLOOD PURIFIER
. Bold black print stated that the medicine would
positively cure nervous debility, rheumatism, gout, goiter, bronchitis, consumption. The list went on, but Jesse didn’t bother
to read it. She did notice the claim that many “Physicians and Ministers of the Gospel” recommended the product.

Her cause was lost. Granny Lester would never have the operation. Jesse handed the fan back to Granny, closed her satchel
and rose to go.

Grandpa led Molly around the house to the watering tank. When he returned, a gunnysack half-filled with potatoes was on the
floor of the buggy. Jesse thanked him and exclaimed on the size and the quality of the gift. She waved good-bye and turned
the horse on up the trail.

Granny was taking the quack medicine recommended by ministers of the gospel and had faith it would dissolve the goiter. Ministers
of the gospel, indeed, Jesse fumed. She bet the man who had written the label had invented them—and the “physicians” too.
If the growth wasn’t removed, Granny would be dead by Christmas, if not sooner.

Wade Simmer came out of the woods and squatted on his heels beside the trail. When the doctor’s buggy left the Lesters’ and
turned north, he had cut through the woods in order to reach this place. This was not the first time he had waited for the
buggy carrying Jesse Forbes. Usually he faded into the woods and watched her pass. Today he intended to stop the buggy and
talk to her. What he had to tell her could delay her so long that it would be dark by the time she came back down out of the
hills. That meant he’d have to follow her home to see that nothing happened to her.

Wade cursed himself for not approaching her while she sat on the porch with Granny, but he’d waited too long to meet her face-to-face
to do it in front of Granny Lester’s sharp eyes. Old Granny had been telling him for years to get himself a good woman—as
if
good
women were like apples hanging on a tree just waiting to be plucked.

He had been back at the family homestead for about a year when he had seen Jesse for the first time. What he saw only made
him want to see more. He began to carry a small pair of field glasses with him when it was time for her to visit Granny or
the Fronys’. Just curiosity, he told himself when a little part of his mind told him he was a damn fool. That was about a
year and a half ago. Now he knew her face as well as he knew his own.

Wade had also caught glimpses of the doctor’s daughter in town when he occasionally went down to the post office or to get
freight at the depot. He wondered how she would react to him. Did she think he was the one who was stripping women naked and
looking at them?

Not much that went on in Harpersville escaped Wade’s notice. A couple times a week he went to Ike Spangler’s garage to tinker
with a motor. Ike had told him he was suspected of being The Looker. He’d got a chuckle over that.

Hell, there hadn’t been this much excitement in Harpersville since he was a kid and he and some of his friends had come down
from the hills and hoisted Boyd Harper’s privy to the top of the bank building.

The jingle of harness brought Wade to his feet. Suddenly he was as breathless as if he had run five miles, and it irritated
him. Godamighty. She was only a woman, for Christ’s sake. Then it occurred to him that in his mind he had built an image of
her; not her physical appearance, but what kind of person she was on the inside. And he didn’t want to be disappointed.

Jesse was so deep in thought that at first she didn’t see the man standing in the center of the trail holding a rifle in his
arms. When she did, the first thing she noticed was the scowl on a face that was dark with whiskers, a face that she suspected
would be dark even if he had just shaved. He stood, booted feet spread, as if he were facing an enemy. His brimmed hat was
pulled low over his forehead so that she was unable to see the color of his eyes, but she could tell that they were looking
at her.

She pulled up on the reins, aware that her heart was beating awfully fast. Somehow she knew that this was the notorious Wade
Simmer. If he were The Looker, as everyone in town believed, he’d not harm her here in broad daylight, would he? Her father
wouldn’t have sent her up here if he had thought she would be in danger. She had not known him to make a mistake in judging
a man’s character.

“Hello, Mr. Simmer,” Jesse said calmly, although a mad, frightened dance was going on inside her.

He came slowly to the side of the buggy. From the road, she’d been able to tell that he was a wide-shouldered, slim-hipped
man with long arms and legs. Up close, she could see that his eyes were green with amber flecks and his hair black as midnight.
His jaw was solid and hard and looked as if it had withstood many a barroom brawl.

“You know who I am,” he said, his eyes holding hers.

“Am I wrong?”

“No. Aren’t you afraid to be out here alone with the one they call The Looker?”

“You’ve heard that? Naturally, they want to believe you’re The Looker because they don’t like you. If Papa thought I’d run
into that revolting excuse for a man, I’d not be here.”

“Your papa is too trusting,” he said drily.

“Is he wrong?”

Time seemed to stop as they looked at each other. Without embarrassment, Jesse looked directly until she was sure that his
features would be imprinted in her memory forever. Wade was a tall man. His face was almost on a level with hers, though she
sat above the wagon wheel. A sudden smile formed on his lips and spread to his eyes.

“Well?” Jesse asked crossly, thinking he was laughing at her.

Instead of answering her question, he said, “I’m not the least bit disappointed.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m glad to hear it,” she snapped. “Now, I must be going.”

He seemed to sigh and his shoulders relaxed.

“I stopped you to ask you to look in on some sick kids— the Merfelds and the Gordons.”

“Of course. Where do they live?”

“Back up in the woods on Downy Creek. It’s about three miles to the Merfelds and two more to the Gordons.”

“All right. How do I get there?”

“I’ll take you.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Simmer. It’s kind of you to offer.”

“You’re willing to go off into the woods with me?”

“Do I have reason for fearing you?”

“Maybe.” He turned his head so she couldn’t see his face.

“Well, I’m not afraid of you. You go to Ike Spangler’s garage. He’s a friend of my little brother, Todd. I’m sure Ike wouldn’t
have you around if you were dangerous.”

Wade continued to stare at her. “Your pa may be a fine doctor, but he hasn’t taught you anything about men.”

“I’ve got to be going, Mr. Simmer, if I’m going to get home before dark.”

“You won’t make it,” he said, placing his rifle on the buggy floor and climbing onto the seat. “But I’ll see you to your door.”

“Thank you, but no. I’m perfectly capable—”

He took the reins from her hands and gave them a shake. “Get goin’, boy—”

“—Girl,” Jesse said sternly. “Molly doesn’t like being called a boy. She’s very feminine and… sensitive.”

Wade saw the defiant look in her eyes, and he suddenly felt light as a cloud.
Sweetheart, you’re sure as hell no disappointment.

Jesse didn’t understand herself at all. Here she was, miles from anywhere with a man most folk considered dangerous. Why hadn’t
she refused to let him get into the buggy? Come to think of it, she had no choice. When he had first walked up to the buggy,
there had been a question mark lurking in the back of his eyes. She wondered what he had been thinking. Had he expected her
to scream or faint? The thought brought the question to her lips. She was unable to hold it back and turned her head to look
at him.

“You thought I’d swoon when you popped out of the woods,” she said accusingly. “I’ve never swooned in my life and I’ve seen
some grisly things.”

“More grisly than I am?”

“Much more.” She lifted her head proudly. She was determined not to let him think she was afraid of him.

Their heads turned simultaneously toward the trail ahead. For several minutes they were silent, both busy with their own thoughts
and each too intensely aware of the other to note how wonderfully cool it was here in the woods. The air smelled sweet and
fresh as they followed the trail cut between sloping, timbered hills.

“Tell me about the Gordon children,” Jesse said, breaking the silence.

“All I know is their pa came down to the mill yesterday and said a couple of them were real sick. He said the Merfeld and
the Foster kids had come down with something too, and if we saw the Doc, to ask him to come over. He’d pay with a sack of
corn.”

“Hmmm. Where does this other family live?”

“About a mile from the Gordons.”

“Where do these children go to school?”

“Coon Rapids.”

“Is that a town?”

“It’s an area.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“No reason to. Not much there.”

Wade could hardly believe he was sitting here talking to her about sick kids and schools. He wanted to look at her. The white
thing that covered her dress brushed against the legs of his duck britches. She was as crisp and clean as a spring morning.
He glanced at her hands in her lap. They were smooth and white, her fingers long, her nails clipped. He wondered how her hands
would feel on his face. Disgusted with himself, he turned his face toward the side of the trail. In all his twenty-eight years
he’d not ever been this interested in a woman. Why in hell did it have to be one that was so… unobtainable?