Runny03 - Loose Lips (39 page)

Julia peeked in at her, Nickel by her side.

“Momma,” Nickel whispered, “should I sing to her?”

The child, an early riser, would crawl into bed with Juts and Chester to awaken them with “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” She made up rhymes in her pleasant voice about Yoyo, Buster, birds, caterpillars, and horses, ending with “Morning, glory!”

“No.”

“But Momma, why is she asleep? It’s not bedtime.”

“She’s tired.”

“Is Maizie tired, too?”

“Yes, Maizie’s not quite herself.”

“Is Doodlebug tired?” The Boston bull swept his ears back and front when Nickel mentioned his name.

“Yes,” Juts, irritated, answered. She grasped Nickel’s hand and led her away from the porch and into the kitchen. She’d made a gallon of potato salad, cole slaw, and biscuits for her sister. The food was cool enough to put in the refrigerator. Every time Juts visited she coveted Wheezie’s new refrigerator. She was still using an icebox.

The sound of slippered feet announced Maizie.

“Time for another pill?”

“I’m not swallowing any more of that shit,” Maizie defiantly replied, then noticed Nickel. “Sorry, Nicky. I used a bad word.”

“I know a bad word.”

“You do?”

“Doily.”

“That’s not a bad word.” Maizie opened the refrigerator door and a light went on inside, the latest in convenience. She pulled out a jug of lemonade. “Anyone?”

“No, thanks.” Juts leaned against the counter.

“Nick.”

“No.”

“No, what?” Juts said sternly.

“No, thank you.”

“That’s better.”

“Maizie, the doctor wants you to take your pills until you’ve used them up. It won’t be much longer.”

“You’re right, it won’t.” Maizie seized the pills, tossing them down the sink.

Juts reached her hand into the drain, too late. She controlled her temper. “I guess Dr. Horning will write another prescription. I’ll call him.”

“Don’t. I’m not crazy. I took my clothes off, but I’m not crazy.”

“I take my clothes off,” Nickel stated.

Indeed, she did. On hot days Juts allowed Nickel to run barefoot in shorts and no shirt.

“Nicky, why don’t you go”—Juts glanced out the window; it rained harder—“into the parlor. Aunt Wheezie has some pretty picture books.”

“I know.” She’d memorized each of them.

“Aunt Juts, I don’t care if she’s here. I’m not going to fly off the handle.”

“The doctor said we shouldn’t ask you too much. Build up pressure or something. I don’t know.”

“You know what happened?” She placed the empty lemonade glass on the counter. “I woke up and couldn’t see anything. My eyes could see but I couldn’t. Just a blank.”

“I guess everyone feels that way sometime or another.”

“I don’t have a life, Aunt Juts.” Her throat constricted. “Blank.”

“Of course you do,” Juts replied.

“You know what? I look at Mother and I think, ‘Am I going to look like that? Am I going to act like that someday?’ Blood tells. Scares me so bad I can’t see straight. Nicky’s the lucky one.”

Nicky, head cocked like an inquisitive bird, observed her, brown eyes alert.

“I hope so.” Juts worried, though. What if Nickel turned out like
her
mother or her unseen father? What if her own influence evaporated, leaving no more trace than a whiff of perfume?

“Aunt Julia, what’s there to live for? I don’t want to live and die in this one-horse town. I don’t want to be like my mother or my sister. Guess I don’t want to be like Dad, either. It’s so small. Everything is so small.”

“I figure wherever I am, that’s where the world is.” Julia meant it, too. “What happened to you up north?”

“What happened to me here?” Maizie ruefully replied. “Nothing. I guess I thought my life was going to be like a movie or something. Not this.”

“Be patient,” counseled she who rarely was.

“Why? For what? I don’t even have a boyfriend. What am I going to do until Prince Charming arrives?” Her light blue eyes clouded over. “Mother wants me to be a nurse or a teacher. A nurse? I don’t want to change bedpans, and take old men’s pulses, or give strangers a bath. I don’t want to touch people I don’t know. Mother thinks it’s respectable and I can play my piano in my spare time.”

“What about teaching?”

“I’d kill those brats.”

“Well, you could be a secretary or work in the Bon-Ton, if they’re hiring, I mean.”

Maizie shook her head.

“I want to be a cowgirl,” Nickel chimed in.

“Hush, Nicky,” Juts lightly scolded her.

“I can work!” Nicky proved belligerent.

“I’m talking to Maizie. You butt out.”

Nickel put her hands on her hips. “I am too going to be a cowgirl!” Her eyes blazed. “Me and Maizie.”

“Sure, Nicky,” Maizie appeased her.

“See!” Nickel raised her voice.

“Will you shut up.”

“It’s okay, Aunt Juts. Let’s get out of here. Go for a ride or something.”

“I’ll have to wake your mother.”

“I’ll do it.” Nickel scampered in and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Gobble, gobble, gobble!”

Louise shot out of the wicker chair about as fast as Julia ran into the porch room. She grabbed Nickel by the elbow and smacked her hard on the rear. Nickel winced but didn’t cry. Maizie doubled over with laughter.

“Don’t you ever do that!” Juts wouldn’t let go of Nickel’s elbow.

Louise looked from Nickel to Maizie. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s catching,” Maizie whooped.

“Oh, God, no.” Louise’s hand fluttered at her throat.

“Mother, get a grip. I’m joking.”

“That’s not funny.” Louise, all offended dignity, turned on Nickel. “You’re a naughty girl.”

“Me and Maizie are leaving.” Nickel wrenched her arm free from her mother’s hand and stomped over to Maizie. “Let’s go.”

“Bye.” Maizie took her hand, waved to the sisters, and headed for the door.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Louise sprinted to the front door.

“Let’s go out to the packing plant,” Juts suggested. “Chessy and Pearlie are out there. Maybe they found something.”

“What if it’s bodies?” Louise’s lip curled.

“Neat.” Maizie opened the door.

Louise whispered to Juts, “She seems better. Did she take her medicine?”

“No. She threw it down the drain.”

“What!”

“Louise, let’s worry about this later. She seems better. Accentuate the positive.”

“Let me call Dr. Horning.”

“Call him later, come on.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“She’s not sick. She’s really not.”

“Come on!” Maizie yelled from outside; she and Nickel were already in the car. Nickel bounced up and down on the seat.

“Just a minute.” Louise stepped outside, then whispered to Juts, “If she’s not sick then what’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t have a word for it. She ran into a wall and now she’s got to dig under it, climb over it, or blast right through it.”

“Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Louise caught her breath, mad at herself for swearing. “Really, you get my goat.”

“Better than your lamb.”

Louise grimaced. “What’d she tell you?”

“She’s trying to figure out what to do with her life. That’s not so strange.”

“She’ll get married and have children, that’s what she’ll do with her life, and in the meantime she can earn some money. If she’s a nurse she’ll meet a doctor. That’s the plan.”

“Your plan.”

“Well, Julia, someone has to think for her.”

“Come on!” Maizie shouted, then maliciously added, “Gobble, gobble, gobble.”

Nickel joined her.

“I ought to beat them both silly.” Louise thumped out to the car. “Will you both stop that this instant!”

Julia hopped in on the passenger side. “Dead bodies, here we come.”

Nickel cupped her hand and whispered to Maizie as they headed out the twisting road to the plant, “I’ll close my eyes.”

“What’d she say?” Louise lived in fear that she’d miss something.

“If there are dead bodies she’ll close her eyes.”

“What’s she going to do about the smell?” Juts laughed.

Nicky pinched her nose with her thumb and forefinger, which made them all laugh.

No dead bodies were unearthed at the meatpacking plant. But a room reached by a tunnel had been dug up. Noe and his wife, Orrie, plus Fannie Jump Creighton, Harper Wheeler, Harmon Nordness, Chessy, and Pearlie stood in the cool brick chamber.

Juts walked in. “This is as big as a gymnasium!”

The space was piled from floor to ceiling with cannon balls, grapeshot, cannisters, and cartridges. It was an arsenal.

Louise and Maizie walked in, their mouths hanging open.

Nickel ran to her dad.

“Look at this.” Fannie pointed to the left side of the room.

All the ordnance was stamped C.S.A.

“Now look over here.” Harper guided the ladies.

The ammunition was stamped U.S.A.

“That son of a bitch. What they said about him was true! He sold to both sides during the war,” Juts blurted out. “If only Celeste were here to see this. Her father despised Cassius Rife.”

“Maybe they’re having it out in the great beyond,” Harper Wheeler joked.

“But why worry about this now? Why burn the place down?” Louise asked.

“Who knows?” Harper shook his head. “Insurance. Pearl Harbor provided them with perfect timing. What greedy bastards. They have so much but they wanted more.”

“I called Julius. He said he doesn’t know nothing about this chamber,” Harmon Nordness informed them. “Not doodley.”

Since the Rifes lived on the Pennsylvania side of the line, Sheriff Nordness was the one to make the call.

“Maybe Brutus knew and didn’t tell his sons or only told one.” Pearlie started to think about it “Nah, they both knew.”

“Yeah,” Chester said. “They probably found some of the old man’s papers.”

“Who cares now?” Julia stared at the stuff.

“We do,” Fannie Jump said. “We all do. We grew up hearing stories about how Cassius made his millions, but no one could ever prove it. It was like being a blackbirder, it was so bad back during the war, that’s what Celeste’s daddy used to say. Here it is eighty years later. That’s not such a long time. It’d be like selling arms to Hitler and Roosevelt at the same time.”

“What’s a blackbird?”

“A blackbirder,” Fannie corrected Nickel. “That’s a person who brought slaves over from Africa by boat. Way, way back before this war even. Usually they were sea captains from Boston or New York. They got very rich.”

Nickel smiled. She liked to learn things but she was often confused. Did this mean that a blackbird was a person? Did a person turn into a bird if she was bad?

“I need a smoke.” Harper Wheeler led everyone back out of the room through the tunnel, which was constructed with intersecting arches.

Maizie walked over to him. “Sheriff, I’m sorry I caused you trouble.”

“Don’t you give it a second thought. All forgotten.”

As they emerged back into the rain they ducked into the back part of the packing plant, which wasn’t as badly burned as the front. Harper jovially instructed Noe, “Guess you’ll have to put in the call to Popeye.”

Noe smiled. “No phones here.”

“Got a dispatcher in my car,” Harmon Nordness said.

“Make you a bet,” Harper said to Noe.

“What’s the bet?”

“Bet you that Julius Rife has already hired him some slick fellow from New York City to talk to Popeye for him.”

“That’s no bet. That’s a sure thing,” Juts said.

Louise, Maizie, and Pearlie, happy to see his younger daughter so improved, drove home in their car.

Chessy, Juts, and Nickel piled into theirs. Julia wanted to drive over and tell her mother everything that had happened.

The windshield wipers swooshed. Nickel flattened her nose against the window. “Gobble, gobble, gobble.”

“You stop that!” Juts reached over the seat to swat her.

I
ndian summer lingered, its sweetness thickened by the knowledge that winter would follow. Ring-necked pheasants filled the cornfields, and quail tottered about in low cover; foxes ran everywhere. Juts remembered, when she was Nickel’s age, having once been taken on a shoot with her uncle, long ago deceased. He bred English setters, magnificent gun dogs, and he brought down three pheasants that day. It made Juts cry to see them fall out of the sky, but she didn’t refuse to eat them once on the table.

Seasons triggered memories for her more than specific dates. Songs did it, too. “Red Sails in the Sunset” reminded her of her troubles with Chessy over Trudy. Whenever that song was played she’d snap off the radio.

The brilliant leaves this fall fascinated Nickel, who picked them off the ground to save them. Already she could identify poplars, bright yellow; sugar maples, flaming red; and most varieties of oak, which ranged from a pure yellow to electrifying orange to brown. The willows, yellow now, dropped their leaves over the old well in the backyard. She’d climb effortlessly, her bare feet seeking a place to wedge themselves, and once up she’d sit in the lowest branch. She’d listen to the leaves rustle and once to a mockingbird perched on a limb above her.