“But, Will—”
“You listen now, Elly, ‘cause I haven’t got a whole lot of time to convince you. Miss Beasley, she’ll be your friend. You’re gonna need a friend, and she’s fair and honest and smart. If you need help you go to her and she’ll help you or find somebody else who will. Promise, Elly?”
He held her lightly by the throat. Beneath his palm he felt her swallow.
“I promise,” she whispered.
He forced a grin, made it teasing, the way he knew she needed right now. “You got your fingers crossed under them covers, missus?”
“N–no,” she choked, releasing a laugh that was half sob.
“All right. Now listen.” He wiped her cheek dry and said what needed saying. “I got to tell you this before I go. It might not’ve been fair of me to ask Miss Beasley, but I did, and she told me about how your mama she never was married, and how your family locked you up in that house when you were a little girl, and all the rest of it. Elly, how come you never told me?”
Her gaze dropped to his chest.
He lifted her chin with a finger. “You’re as good as any of them down there—better. And don’t you forget it, Mrs. Parker. You’re bright, and you got a pair of real bright boys, too, you hear me? You got to go down into that town and show ‘em.”
He could see she was on the verge of big tears. “Aw, Elly, honey...” He wrapped her close and rocked her. “This war is gonna change things. Women’re gonna have to do for themselves a lot more. And for you, facing town might be part of it. Just remember what I said. You’re good as any of them down there. Now I got to ask you something, all right?” Once more he pressed her away and studied her eyes. “Do you own that house?”
“The one in town?”
“Yes. Where you used to live.”
“Yes. But I ain’t goin’ in it.”
“You don’t have to. Just remember, though, if an emergency comes up and you need big money for anything, you can sell that place. Miss Beasley’ll be able to help you. Will you do that if something goes wrong and I don’t come home?”
“You’re comin’ home, Will, you are!”
“I’m gonna try, darlin’. A man with this much waitin’ for him’s got plenty to fight for, don’t you think?”
They held each other and willed that it should be so. That when Lizzy took her first step he’d be there with his arms outstretched, waiting to catch her. When summertime came and the honey was running he’d be there to see after the bees. And when autumn came and the sourwood tree changed to scarlet he’d be there to join them beneath it.
“I love you, Elly. More’n you’ll ever know. Nobody ever was as good to me as you. You got to remember one thing always. How happy you made me. When I ain’t here and you get low, you think about what I said, how happy you made me, feedin’ me quince pies and giving me three little babies to love, and making me feel like I’m somebody special. And remember how much I loved you, only you, the only one in my whole entire life, Eleanor Parker.”
“Will... Will... oh, God...”
They tried to kiss but couldn’t; their tears got in the way, filling their throats and thickening their tongues. They clung, legs braided, arms pulling as if to protect each other from tomorrow’s separation.
But it would come. And it would take him and leave her and nothing they could do or say would prevent the sand from running out.
CHAPTER
15
They said goodbye under the sourwood tree. Donald Wade coasted down with one knee in the wagon; Thomas rode the scooter. Will and Elly followed, he with his few possessions in a brown paper bag and she carrying Lizzy P.
When they stopped beneath the outspread branches, his wrist rested on her shoulder. Instead of looking at her, he squinted at the sky.
“Well... got a good day for it. Can almost feel spring comin’.”
“Not a cloud in that sky.”
Why were they talking weather when there were a dozen more urgent feelings tumbling through their hearts?
“Donald Wade said just yesterday he seen a nest with some speckled eggs in it.”
Will put his palm on Donald Wade’s hair. “That right, kemo sabe?”
“Three of ‘em, down by the Steel Mule.”
“You didn’t touch ‘em, did you?”
Donald Wade wagged his head hard. “Uh-uhhh! Mama said.”
Will went down on one knee and set his sack in the wagon. “Come here. You too, Thomas.” Thomas dropped the scooter and both boys stood close while Will looped his arms around their waists. “You always do what your mama says, all right? I’m countin’ on you to be good boys.”
They both nodded solemnly, aware that Will’s leaving was of import but too young to understand why.
“How long’ll you be gone, Will?”
“Oh, a while, I reckon.”
“But how long?” Donald Wade insisted.
Will carefully kept his eyes from Elly.
“Till them Japs’re killed, I reckon.”
“You gonna get a real gun, Will?”
He drew Donald Wade against his thigh. “Tell you what—I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. Now you be a good boy and help your mother with Lizzy P. and Thomas, okay?”
“’Kay.” His voice lacked its usual vibrancy as Will’s leavetaking became real. They kissed. Hard and hearty while the back of Will’s nose stung.
“’Bye, kemo sabe.”
“’Bye, Will.”
“’Bye, sprout.”
“’Bye, Wiw.” Another soft mouth, another hard hug and Will clasped them both, closing his eyes.
“I love you two little twerps—an awful lot.”
“I love you, Will.”
“I wuv you, Wiw.”
He got quickly to his feet, afraid of what would happen if he didn’t.
“I want to hold Lizzy P. one time, all right?” He reached for the baby, held her upright with her feet at his chest. She peeked out from beneath a home-knit cap and a warm flannel quilt. When he put his nose to her cheek she smelled of a fresh bath and powdering. “I’m comin’ back, Lizzy P., you sweet, sweet thing. Got to see them teeth you’ll be sproutin’ and see you ride the schoolbus to town.” He made it brief—a nuzzle and a kiss—because it was too painful. “Here, Donald Wade, you hold your sister in the wagon, son.”
When Lizzy P. was settled in her brother’s lap, Will turned to Elly and took her by both hands. She was crying quietly. No sobbing, only the tears rolling down her pale cheeks.
“You keep them quince ready, missus, ‘cause you never can tell when I’m gonna come traipsin’ into this yard hungry as a spring bear.”
Though the tears continued streaming, she lifted her chin high and affected a discommoded attitude. “Always were a peck o’trouble, Will Parker, you ‘n’ that sweet tooth of yours.”
The tears he’d contained so well could be hidden no longer. They glimmered on his eyelids as he and Elly lunged together in a fierce, possessive hug. He dropped his head and she lifted on tiptoe, each seizing the other while their false gaiety dissolved.
“Oh, Elly... Jesus.”
“You come back to me, Will Parker, you hear?”
“I will, I will, I promise I will. You’re the first thing I ever had to come back to. How could I not come back to you?”
They kissed, feeling cheated out of so much they hadn’t had time for.
“Send me your picture soon as it’s taken, in them fancy soldiers’ clothes.”
“I will. And remember what I said...” He held her face in both hands, looking into her precious green eyes. “You’re as good as anybody in town. Take the boys in, and go to Miss Beasley if you need anything.”
She nodded, biting her lips, then pulled him close, grasping the back of his denim jacket in her fists.
“I love you s–so m–much,” she choked.
“I love you, too.”
They kissed again, tongues reaching, arms clasping, tears falling while somewhere a train r
olled toward Whitney to bear Will away. He forced his wife from his arms and ordered shakily, “Now get Lizzy P. and the boys and y’all sit under the sourwood tree. I wanna see you there when I go ‘round the bend. ‘Bye, boys. Be good.”
He picked up his brown paper bag and watched Elly reach for the baby, swinging away before she’d straightened, striking off down the driveway, blinking to clear his vision, dashing a hard denim cuff against his eyes. He didn’t turn until the last possible moment, when he knew the bend would hide them from his sight. He drew a deep breath... pivoted... and the picture branded itself upon his heart.
They were clustered beneath the sourwood tree, the boys pressed close to their mother as they sat on the sere grass of late winter. Blue overalls, brown boots, curled toes, thick woolen jackets... a green and pink quilt, a tiny face pointed in his direction... a faded blue housedress, a short brown coat, bare legs, brown oxfords, anklets, a long sandy braid. The boys were waving. Donald Wade was crying. Thomas was calling “’Bye, Wiw! ‘Bye, Wiw!” Elly held the baby high against her cheek, manipulating Lizzy’s tiny hand and her own in a final wave.
Oh, God... God...
Will raised his free hand and forced himself to turn, stalk away.
Think about coming back, he recited like a litany. Think about how lucky you are you got them four waitin’ under a sourwood tree. Think about how pretty that little place is you’re leaving, and what it’s gonna be like to see those boys come runnin’ when you walk back up this road, and what it’ll be like to hold Elly again and know you won’t have to let her go, and how you’re gonna smile when Lizzy P. calls you daddy for the first time, and how you’re gonna have one of your own someday just like her, and you and Elly’ll watch all four of ‘em grow up and get married and get grandbabies and bring ‘em back home on Sundays and you’ll show ‘em the old sourwood tree and tell ‘em all how you marched off to war and left their grandmama and mama and daddies sittin’ under it wavin’ you goodbye.
By the time he reached Tom Marsh’s place, he was calmer. He stood at the edge of their property, looking up at the neat white house, the empty clothesline in the backyard, the stump where the kettle held only dirt, no petunias. A new white picket fence surrounded the yard; he opened the gate, clicked it shut behind him and approached the house with his eyes fixed on it. A shaggy yellow dog came off the porch, barking and sniffing his calves, a half-grown pup, more inquisitive than threatening.
“Hey, girl...” Will bent and scratched her neck. “Where’s your folks, huh?”
When he straightened, a woman had opened the door and stepped onto the back stoop. The same young woman as before, dressed in a trim red dress with a white mandarin collar, shrugging into a white sweater.
“Hello!” she called.
Will approached slowly and removed his hat. “Mrs. Marsh?”
“That’s right.”
“My name’s Will Parker. I live up on Rock Creek Road. Eleanor Dinsmore’s my wife.”
She came down two steps and extended her hand. She was a pretty woman, thin and leggy, with bouncing black curls, cheek rouge and lipstick that made her look sweet, not hard like Lula Peak. “I’ve seen you pass on the road several times.”
“Yes, ma’am. I work at the library for Miss Beasley. I mean, I did. I’m...” He gestured toward town with his hat. “I’m on my way to Parris Island.”
“The Marine camp?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You got drafted?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So did my husband. He’ll be leavin’ at the end of the week.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I mean... well, it’s a heck of a thing, this war.”
“Yes, it is. I have a brother, seventeen. He quit school and enlisted in the Navy already. Mama and Daddy just couldn’t keep him at home.”
“Seventeen... that’s young.”
“Yes... I worry about him so.” A brief silence passed before she inquired, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Parker?”
“No, ma’am. Somethin’ I had to do for you before I leave.” Holding the paper sack against his stomach, Will reached in, pulled out a quart jar of honey and handed it to her. “A few months back I stole a quart jar full of buttermilk from your well. This here is it. Buttermilk’s gone, of course, but that’s our own honey—we keep bees at our place.” Next came the towel. “Stole this green towel off your clothesline, too, and a set of your husband’s clothes, but I’m afraid they’re about worn out—”
“Well, I declare,” she breathed, accepting the honey.
“—or I’d’ve returned them, too. I was hard up then, but that’s no excuse. I just wanted to apologize, Mrs. Marsh. It’s been on my mind a long time, is all, and it bothered me, stealin’ from good people—Elly, she says you’re good people.” He backed away, pointing at the jar. “So there. Honey’s not much, but—well—it’s—” He donned his hat and rolled the top of the sack down tightly, still backing away. “My apologies, ma’am, and I sure hope your husband makes it back from this war.”
“Just a minute, Mr. Parker!” He paused near the gate and she hurried down the walk.
“Give me a minute to let this sink in—nobody’s ever—well, if this isn’t the darndest thing.” She chuckled as if in surprise. “I always wondered where those clothes went.”
Will turned red to the ears while she seemed pleasantly amused.
“I got no excuse, ma’am, but I’m sorry. I’ll rest easier now that I got it off my chest.”
“Thank you for the honey. It’ll come in handy with sugar being so dear.”
“It’s nothin’.”
“It’ll more than pay for those old clothes of Tom’s.”
“I hope so, ma’am.” He pushed the gate open and the pup tried to slip through. She leaned down and grabbed its collar as Will closed the gate between them.
“I’m impressed by your honesty, Mr. Parker,” she offered, rising.
He chuckled self-consciously and dropped his gaze to the gate while absently fingering one of its pointed slats.
“I appreciated the buttermilk and jeans at the time.”
They studied each other, strangers caught in the backlash of war, considering the possibilities of death and loss, amazed that those possibilities could so swiftly create a tie between them. She reached out her hand once more and he took it in a prolonged handclasp.
“I hope to see you passing on the road again—soon.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Marsh. If I do I’ll give a holler and a hello.”
“You do that.”
He dropped her hand. “Well,... goodbye.”
“God bless you.”
He tipped his hat and headed for the road. Several paces away he turned back. She was dipping her finger into the honey. As she stuck it in her mouth she looked up and found him watching, grinning.
“It’s delicious.” She smiled broadly.
“I was just thinkin’, ma’am. You asked if there was anything you could do and maybe there is.”
“Anything for a soldier.”
“My wife, Elly—she’s got a new baby just two months old plus two others, and she doesn’t get out much. If you should get—well, I mean, if you needed a friend, or someplace to go visit, I know you got kids of your own and maybe y’all’d like to walk up to our place and say hey sometime. Kids could maybe play together, you two ladies could have tea. Seein’ as how your husband’ll be gone, too.”
Her pretty face puckered in thought. “Eleanor... Elly—your wife was Elly See, wasn’t she?”
“That’s right, ma’am. But what they say about her ain’t true. She’s a fine person, and brighter than some who spread rumors about her.”
Mrs. Marsh recapped the quart jar, held it as a bride holds a bouquet and replied, “Then I’ll want to thank her for the excellent honey, won’t I?”
He smiled, gladdened, and thought how Mrs. Marsh’s prettiness went deeper than skin and hair and cheek rouge.
“Enjoy that honey
,” he said by way of farewell.
She raised a hand and waved. “Come back.”
As he turned away they both hoped fervently they’d meet again, felt a vague sense of deprivation, as if they might have been friends had they met when there was more time to explore the possibility.
* * *
The railroad station seemed to be the busiest building in town these days. Two young recruits—one white, one black—already waited with their tickets in hand, surrounded by their families on separate sides of the depot. A troop of Girl Scouts in uniform broke into two factions—the black girls to present the black recruit with a small white box, the white girls to do the same for the white recruit. A contingent of local DAR ladies waited for the train with juice and cookies for any war-bound men who might need a snack. A thin young man in a baggy suit and felt hat interrupted the family goodbye of the white recruit to get a last-minute interview for the local paper. A black minister with springy white curls rushed in to add his farewell to those of the black family.
And Miss Beasley was there, too, dressed in her usual puce coat, club shoes and a hideous black straw hat shaped like a soup kettle with netting. In her left hand she held a black purse, in her right a book.
“So Eleanor didn’t come,” she began before Will even reached her.
“No, ma’am. I said goodbye to her and the kids on our own road, where I want to remember them.”
Miss Beasley shook a finger beneath his nose. “Now you stop talking so fatalistically, do you hear? I’ll have none of it, Mr. Parker!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Will replied meekly, warmed immediately by her stern demeanor.
“I have decided to give your job to a high school student, Franklin Gilmore, with the express understanding that it is a temporary arrangement until you return. Is that understood?” She gave the impression that she’d get any Japanese soldier who dared fire a bullet at Will Parker.