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The kitchen was empty. There was a note chalked up on the wallboard that served for family announcements. ‘Lunch is cold-cuts, in the refrigerator,’ it said. ‘Jon and I have gone to Erwin for supplies.’ Which at least gives me a breathing spell, and maybe time for a nap, she told herself. Strange, that I could sleep for twenty-four hours, and still need a nap!

She snatched a sandwich, and had one foot on the second stair when she heard his voice through the half-closed door of the study. He was talking on the telephone. She crossed her fingers against the bad luck, and shamelessly stopped to listen.

‘Look, George,’ he said. ‘I understand what you’re telling me. She ran the engine without any oil, and all the cylinders are seized up. Yes, I understand that the engine is a pile of junk and will have to be replaced. Yes. A rebuilt engine will be fine. Yes, I know you keep them in stock, and could change one in—how long? Two hours? Oh, my God! Yes, I understand. I’m proud of you, George. Now listen. It’s going to take you at least two weeks to find the right engine for that car. That’s what I said. Two weeks. No, you can’t do it tomorrow. Two weeks. George, you’d better get this right. We’ve been friends for twenty-five years. Two weeks, you hear!’

Katie’s mind told her that she should be angry. That she should storm into the room and accuse him of—of trying to maroon her in his mountains. But her mind had no control over her body. Instead of rushing down the hall and beating him about the head and shoulders, her feet carried her quietly up to her room, where she fell on to the bed and almost immediately dropped off to sleep again. Whatever it was she dreamt that afternoon, she could never recall, but when he peeped in the door an hour later he was surprised to see a beautiful wide smile on her face.

At
four-thirty Katie managed to break free from her sleep spell. In the magical way things seemed to happen in this house, Jon was beside her, just waking up himself. She luxuriated in the comfort as she cuddled, dressed, and changed the baby. When they finally came downstairs everyone else was in the kitchen. Harry was standing by the open back door, holding his arm up to the light. Eloise was sitting at the table, smoking. The number of butts crushed in her saucer indicated she had been at it for some time. Aunt Grace was busy at the oven.

‘And if it isn’t our honoured guest!’ Katie had almost forgotten how shrill and penetrating Eloise’s voice was. She cringed away from the comment.

‘Don’t fool around with that one,’ Harry said. ‘She’s a genuine grade-A photographer.’

‘No, and you’d better not, neither,’ Aunt Grace interrupted. ‘Don’t go funnin’ this girl. She’s got the powers. You be careful!’

‘I’m not funning her,’ he laughed. ‘Got the powers, has she? We’d better step carefully around here. Damn, I wish I knew what’s happened to my arm. ’ He rolled his sleeve up to the elbow.

‘Boils!’ Aunt Grace told him. There was a touch of glee in her voice. She looked at Katie and briefly winked an eye. ‘You have boils, Harry.’

‘Now how in the world could I get boils?’ he protested worriedly. ‘I haven’t been into anything, or eaten anything strange. It could be that cat of yours, Eloise.’

‘What do you think, Katie?’ asked Aunt Grace. ‘Did your gypsy great-grandmother pass along any sovereign remedies?’

Katie strolled over to the door into the sunlight, little Jon riding on her hip. There was an eruption of small blisters in the crease of Harry’s elbow, and she recognised it at a glance. Contact dermatitis, probably something carried on the fur of the cat.

‘It certainly looks like boils to me,’ she commented. ‘There is an old gypsy remedy, but I suppose it wouldn’t work on you. Herb cures only work for those who believe in them, you know.’

‘Don’t give me that,’ he retorted. There was a look of real concern on his face. Good Lord, Katie thought, he’s sensitive to this sort of thing! One minute he’s the domineering mountain man, the next a very worried boy!

‘All right,’ she soothed, ‘we’ll do something about it. Aunt Grace, do you have any of that plain old yellow laundry soap?’

‘Got a lot of it,’ the older woman replied. She was having difficulty avoiding outright laughter. ‘Nobody uses it nowadays, that’s how come we have a lot left over. What do we do?’

‘First Harry scrubs his arm with it. Gently, of course. Then Eloise minds the baby while I go back upstairs to get something.’

‘Not me!’ Eloise waved her off. ‘The only reason you could find to hang around here is as a baby-sitter. Don’t try to pawn that brat off on me. A baby-sitter! Is that the best you can do?’

‘It’s an honest trade,’ Katie said truculently. ‘Can you say the same for yours?’ The light of battle was sparking in her green eyes. The little blonde drew back, as if expecting a physical assault. That’s what I ought to do, Katie told herself. I ought to punch her in the mouth. And stomp her a couple of times. I’ve had enough of this Goodie Two-Shoes business!

Harry interrupted the incipient war. ‘I’m about to die from boils,’ he lamented. ‘At least you could hold the baby, Eloise.’

‘All right, all right,’ the blonde conceded. As soon as she transferred the child, Katie made a dash for her room. In the corner on a chair she found her jacket, and under it the paper bag she had filled on the mountain. She raced back down the stairs two at a time.

‘We need a heavy saucepan,’ she dictated, as she dumped the roots and leaves of the cinquefoil plant into the metal sink and began washing off the dirt. ‘Normally this material should be dried. It’s strong that way. But for now, stick that in the pan and boil it in about two cups of water, Aunt Grace. Give it about thirty minutes on the boil, then soak a clean soft cloth in it and lay it over the boils. Oh, bruise those leaves. That will help to release the strength of it. And do it again just before you go to bed, Harry.’

‘Excellent,’ Harry said in a very self-satisfied tone. ‘While it’s boiling, Katie, let me show you around my land.’

‘But Harry,’ Eloise shrilled. ‘We were going to talk, you and I. You said—’

‘Yes, you’re right. We will,’ he answered softly. ‘While the two witches are gathered around the boiling cauldron here. Come on, we’ll duck into the library.’ Katie stepped back out of the way as he shepherded Eloise out of the kitchen. As he went by he leaned over and whispered in her ear, ‘I see that you and Aunt Grace had a conference this afternoon. How’s the conspiracy coming?’

She tried to dredge up an answer, but only managed to sputter, ‘Oh—you—you’ before he had gone out the door. For some reason she felt—disappointed. A cloud settled over her mind, a cloud of dismal proportions. And it lasted until she had served the supper, bathed and bedded the baby, and turned in herself.

Whatever cloud it was that hung over the house that night, by the early morning of the next day at least Harry was back to normal. He came down to the kitchen, where Katie was feeding Jon, and he was whistling.

‘Better hurry up, girl,’ he chided her, patting her well-rounded bottom for emphasis. ‘The sun waits for no—ah—woman, that is, and I’m off to Atlanta. Is my breakfast ready?’ Without waiting for an answer he pulled out a chair at the table, thumped himself down, and buried himself in the folds of the
Erwin Record.

‘You could help,’ she stuttered, amazed at her own temerity. It was a question she would never have dared raise back home with her brothers.

‘Oh?’ he queried, lowering the paper.

‘Well, you could feed the baby for example, while I cook for everybody else. And then I have to clean the kitchen, lay out the supper, and start the laundry!’

‘Complaints, complaints,’ he laughed. ‘Is that all you’ve got to do, woman? That’s all I hear around here. Complaints!’

‘You really are a male chauvinist, Harry King,’ she muttered under her breath as she started to scramble half-a-dozen eggs in the big skillet. He chuckled at her, put down his newspaper, and started to play the ‘into the hangar’ game that seemed to be the only way to get food down Jon’s throat.

Eloise showed up at seven-thirty, dressed in a sleek green suit, with a suede jacket to match.

‘I have to finish feeding the baby,’ Harry chortled at her, ‘and then clean myself up.’

‘Take your time,’ the blonde woman offered. ‘I just want a cup of coffee, and a few words with Katie, while you do that. We’ll go out on the patio.’

‘Oh, we will?’ Kate muttered under her breath, but Harry was staring at her. He nodded her towards the door. So even though she didn’t want to go, she followed Eloise out on to the flagstones, and took an adjacent chair at her signal.

‘Katie,’ she said, adjusting her skirts to fall neatly, but not looking up at all, ‘Harry and I—well, as you know, we’re going to Atlanta for the weekend, as we usually do. But before we leave, I thought—well, to tell the truth—Harry asked me to tell you a few things.’

‘Harry asked you?’

‘Of course. Last night, late, in my room. You surely are aware that Harry and I are a team? Or are you so young that— no, that can’t be. How old are you?’

‘Twenty-four.’

‘I see. And a very young twenty-four at that, I imagine. Well, Harry is thirty-two, and I’m thirty. And while thirty-two is a nice age for a man, thirty is a death-wish for an actress. It’s a young woman’s game. I started in New York, dropped to Chicago, and now all the work I can get is in Atlanta. After this, I’m only one step from oblivion. You understand?’

‘I understand the words,’ Katie said frankly, ‘but not the intent. Come out with it. What do you want to tell me?’

‘All right.’ Eloise laughed that shrill trill that set Katie’s teeth on edge. ‘Straight. Every girl needs a security blanket. Harry’s mine. He belongs to me. He’s a great friend, and a fine lover, but he has this continuous need to fool around. So until I get him to the altar, I have to overlook his playful little interludes. I don’t want you to misunderstand, though. He may give you a whirl, or a one-night stand in his bed, but he always comes back to me!’ The blonde took a deep breath, emphasising her tremendous figure, smoothing down her blouse with trailing fingers to add punctuation to the declaration.

‘Harry’s an all-American boy,’ she continued. ‘I know what he likes, and I’ve got it. 38D, my dear.’

‘I—I’m not in competition,’ Katie stuttered, her mind a whirl of confusion. ‘I’m just here to mind the baby.’ Would Harry have done that? Asked Eloise to brush her off? Why not, she thought. He’s half-boy, half-man. Maybe he would look for somebody to do his dirty work for him.

‘If you are sure you can keep that at the front of your mind we’ll have no trouble,’ Eloise snapped. ‘Better still, we’ll be gone until Monday. Why don’t you get into your little car and be on your way before we get back!’

With that statement Eloise got up gracefully and walked back to the kitchen.

Katie watched her go, measuring the swing of her hips, the set of her shoulders, and feeling a gnawing pain originating in the pit of her own stomach. It’s hard enough to be second-rank, but to have it thrown in your face like that? Lord, what must he think of me? They are lovers, those two. And somewhere in the middle of their lovemaking they had talked—and laughed?—about Katie Russel. Poor Katie Russel. We mustn’t let her get hurt by it all, must we? He belongs to Eloise and surely, sooner or later, they’ll get married! The knife twisted in her wound, and she struggled without hope to master this new feeling, this wild regret. How can you lose something you never had? For a brief moment panic ruled, and then was put down.

‘No one can hurt you when you are part of the land and the sky,’ Grandmother always preached. With leaden steps Kate got up, walked across the patio, and out on to the lush grass of the lawn. She threw herself down flat on her back, settled her hips comfortably, and forced her eyes to watch the parade of fluffy clouds that marched across the sky. Her hands scrabbled at the ends of the blue-green grass. Then gradually she commanded her muscles to relax, and they obeyed. Her stomach slowly ceased to chum, her thoughts cleared as the cloud motion hypnotised her, and she found a fragmentary peace.

An hour later she heard the noise of the car leaving, and a few minutes after that the tentative wobbles of Jon’s steps as someone let him out the back door. ‘Katie? Where are you?’

She raised herself to sitting position, pivoted, and waved to Aunt Grace, still standing in the doorway. Jon squealed as his eyes focused on her, and he increased his speed. She opened her arms to receive him.

‘Katie?’ Aunt Grace came a little way out on to the patio. ‘Harry’s boils have almost disappeared, Katie!

You would have thought he invented that poultice himself!’ All of which was news enough to dream on, and that night she did.

The weekend passed slowly, almost as if it were a slow-motion movie. On Saturday morning Aunt Grace drove her down into Erwin, to buy a few sundries for her wardrobe, a playpen for Jon, and a month’s supply of disposable diapers and skin cream.

‘I used to go on to Johnson City,’ Aunt Grace told her as they started back. ‘But now the downtown shopping is dead, and the highways are loaded with mile after mile of malls and shopping centres. I hate it.’

‘It’s happening everywhere,’ Katie said, trying to bring a little comfort. ‘You should see Cleveland. Do you suppose we could stop at the garage and check on my car?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Aunt Grace said very quickly. ‘They close on Saturdays, it’s a religious holiday, and Harry said if I let you within ten miles of that garage he’d have my scalp!’

‘Well! He’s a—very arrogant fellow,’ Katie snapped.

‘Yes. Indeed he is!’ But the older woman was giggling, and Katie found it impossible not to join in.

The rest of the day was a leisurely rest. Jon was particularly tractable, especially after Kate dumped him into the swimming pool, and let him exhaust himself until naptime. August had slipped into September, and cool winds were blowing, but the shelter of the trees, and the solar heating, kept the pool a centre of enjoyment.

On Sunday they all got up early enough to attend a church service at the Central Baptist Church in Erwin. The rest of the day drifted by, filled with the cool fingers of pine-scented breeze from off the mountain behind the house.