by R. K. Latch
He saw the light was still on in the kitchen and he smiled to himself. Gabrielle loved the kitchen and could outcook anyone he knew. She enjoyed baking and often produced some of the finest cakes and pies around. She did this, not for them, as Luthor was not overly fond of sweets, but gave them out as gifts for weddings, funerals, and everything in between.
He pecked on the window and watched her jump, he smiled and walked on to the door. Just as he reached for the knob, the door swung open and there she was, the love of his life, the only love in his life. Nothing could ever be bad in this world as long as she was in it.
“Lou,” she called him as she always did, “You might near gave me a heart attack.”
Luthor kissed her on the cheek and stepped inside. The house was cooler, as there was a fan turning. There was something like warm bread on the air. “Apologies, my dear. I simply could not resist.”
“You’re a mischievous devil,” she said.
“Yes, yes I am,” he said grinning. She stepped back over to the oven. She wore a nice blue checkered red dress with white collars and sleeve cuffs with a pristine white apron. It had lacy edges and not a spot on it. The dress came beneath her knees and her legs on down to her shoes were covered in stockings. Gabrielle had dark blonde hair and it was down, over her ears, the ends curling in a nice wave. She might not be the most beautiful woman in the world, but she was the most beautiful in his world.
“What are you baking?”
“Banana nut bread.”
“It smells wonderful.”
“It does, doesn’t it. I should have made a loaf for you as well.”
“It’s fine,” he said, taking a seat at the small breakfast table inside the kitchen. They had a larger, more formal table and chairs in their adjoining dining room but most often they ate their meals here, close to everything.
She turned from the oven and looked at him. Noticing the serious look on his face, she asked, “What is it?”
“Come sit down,” he said, patting the table. Alarm contorted her face and she moved quickly.
“Did something happen? Were you seen?” she asked.
“No, no. Nothing like that. I just want to talk something over with you.” The concern did not leave her face, but she took a seat next to him. He took her hand into his and started speaking.
He told her everything about his stop in Marigold, about the car acting up but it being nothing more than a loose plug wire which worked itself loose and was easily remedied. He told her about hearing and then seeing the hobo attacking the young boy in the alleyway and him, seeing something of himself in the boy, offering their hospitality. Gabrielle said nothing, only sat there still and listening intently. She was a good listener, preferring to hear everything before asking a question or making any judgements. He loved that about her. Honestly, if was only one of many things he loved about her.
“So, he has no one?”
“I would say not. He looks awful road weary, and I doubt he’s spent a single day in a classroom, but he’s sharp enough and I think, a good kid.”
“He has to be exceptional to survive like that, being so young.”
“I thought the same.” Luthor let go of her hand and leaned back in the wooden chair. “What do you think? Am I being a sentimental fool?” She knew of his youth and knew of his usual aversion to small children.
She considered a moment then said: “I don’t think so, Lou. I’m ready to meet him.” A broad smile now graced her pretty face.
“Good.” Luthor nodded.
+++
Wade was completely and thoroughly worn-out. He chosen not to sit down in either the rocking chairs or the swing, knowing that either would lull him to sleep almost as fast as his backside made contact.
Instead, he walked around on the porch, looking at the wide posts holding up the porch roof and peered out over the yard. He liked the flowerbeds butting up right against the porch and the different colors of the blooms and blossoms. He liked the big wide yard that was more like a park than a lawn.
Never before had he been to a rich man’s home. Mr. Duncan might not call himself rich, but from Wade’s point of view, there was little dispute.
He was uncomfortable here. That was nothing new but as tired as he was, he could see in his mind’s eye Mr. Duncan coming out of the house and telling him that he was sorry, but his wife would just not stand for some wild young, hooligan entering their home. The worst part was he could not blame her. Not at all. Wade was no fool. He had learned much about the world and nothing he’d learned gave him hope. Not even seeing Mr. Duncan driving that fancy car and telling him about his own horrible childhood had given him real hope. Things could change for people, Wade reckoned, but he didn’t think that included him.
He hated that he was so tired. The bright lights of town were just down the road but to think about walking somewhere safe, somewhere hidden as weary as he was now, it was just too much for him to consider.
Wade had to be honest with himself. How had he allowed himself to think that Mr. Duncan, the good Samaritan, would actually come through on his offer? It was just too good to be true. A man he knew along the way had told him people don’t belong where they don’t belong, and nothing could be done about that. That had been a long time ago, but Wade remembered it. He didn’t understand it then, but he did now. There was a difference between when someone told you something and when you knew it. Wade did not belong here, and he knew it.
The minutes dragged out painfully slow.
He heard something. Much like a thud, actually a quick series of them, but low and weak. He listened again, but they did not repeat. He couldn’t imagine where the sound had come from, but it was, he admitted, a little disconcerting.
When the front door opened, it startled him. Even standing, he’d leaned his head against a post and closed his eyes. The slight creak of the door caused him to jump, and he was embarrassed when a pretty woman wearing an apron walked out, followed by Mr. Duncan. He could do nothing but stand there, his cheeks once again growing hot.
The woman smiled a beautiful smile and Wade thought it was about the kindest smile he’d ever seen in all his life. Luthor stepped past her and spoke, “Wade, this is Mrs. Duncan.” Wade unsure what to do, did nothing. “She doesn’t see a problem with you spending a few days here.”
Suddenly Wade himself was all smiling. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know these people. People had always been so very bad to him. There was something different here though. Something very different. He did not know how he knew. Only that he did.
Mrs. Duncan put out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. I’d like it if you called me Gabby. Okay?”
Wade wiped his sweaty palm on his trousers, realizing even as he did so that his hand was most likely cleaner than his pants, and accepted her hand. Her skin was cool and smooth, and he liked how her hand was only a tad bit larger than his. The fit was wonderful. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, Gabby.”
She giggled delightfully. Her voice was like music, but not like the music on the radio, but like the music in the mind, leaps and bounds better than anything that could ever be played by a mortal.
“’Wonderful,” Luthor said, putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Come on in, Wade. I’ll show you around.”
Chapter 5
Wade awoke with a start almost jumping clear out of the bed he was in. Disoriented, he looked around, his breathing fast and ragged. Morning light peeked in through a curtained window. Dust motes swam in that golden beam and the light was just enough for him to take in his surroundings.
He was in a simple room, roughly the size of an average motel room. There was the bed he was laying on, a large wide one, bigger than most he’d slept in. The covers and pillows were softer than anything he could ever recall and smelled sweetly of summer air. There was a dresser with a wide mirror atop it. On the dresser’s top, a few framed photographs, of people that he, of course, did not recognize. The room was warm, but only comfortably so. T
here was a small, armless chair covered in a nice, cream-colored fabric. There were two doors. One probably a closet, the other the way out of the room.
He had no memory of going to bed. He looked down and found he wore someone else’s clothes, evident by the cleanliness of the white cotton undershirt hanging loosely on him. Fearful, he looked down and saw that a pair of undershorts covered his lower. Much too big, there was a length of ribbon keeping them in place. He felt a bit better when he checked beneath the shorts and found his own underwear still in place. At least no one had stripped him completely naked.
He lay back on the bed. He was wide awake. As a matter of fact, he was not only awake he felt refreshed and well rested. Wade had slept very well. That in itself spoke volumes. He could hardly remember a night he had not woken multiple times, looking around, checking his surroundings, making sure he was safe. That had not happened this time.
The room was quiet. No sounds, if there were any, penetrated the thick wooden door.
While no noise made its way through, something else did. It was a smell that lifted his spirits and awoke the hunger that stayed with him like a constant, if unwelcome, companion. The smell was a rich mixture of tantalizing aromas. The scents pulled Wade from the bed. His bare feet plodded against the cool hardwood of the bedroom floor. Before he made it to the door, there was a soft knock.
“Wade, darling, are you up?” Gabby’s voice called softly.
He did not answer immediately. He was half convinced last night had not actually happened, despite waking up in a bed with clean bedclothes on. Mrs. Duncan’s voice quickly dispelled his false belief.
“Uh, yes, ma’am.”
“May I come in?” Why would she ask that, he wondered? It was her house after all.
“Sure.” The door opened slowly. She was as pretty as she’d been last night to Wade, if not more so. She’d traded in her blue and white dress for a light yellow one, but other than that she looked just about the same.
“Morning, sleepyhead. Did you rest well?”
“I did. I uh,” he looked down at what he wore.
“Your clothes, I thought they could use a good washing. Luthor’s things were a little big for you but I it looks like it worked out okay.” Then she added. “And don’t worry young man, I didn’t see a thing.” She smiled and Wade felt better.
“Thank you,” he said, meaning it.
Gabby smiled. “Are you hungry? We always have a big breakfast on Saturday mornings.” Wade almost took off in a run, but somehow, he managed to restrain himself. “I would really appreciate breakfast, ma’am.”
“Gabby,” she reminded him. He nodded.
“Yes, Gabby. I’m very hungry.”
“I thought that might be the case,” she said. “Come one,” she gestured with a tilt of her head.
Wade followed her out of the bedroom into a wide hall with plastered walls and artwork, sketches, and paintings, hanging on either side. He did not remember it at all. In fact, most of last night were buried beneath a thick haze. He remembered sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a tall glass of milk and some type of brown bread that was sweet and fruity and good.
They passed a few closed doors and a room, where two sliding doors had been left partially open. On the other side of those doors was a large wooden desk and bookshelves crammed with more books than Wade had ever seen outside of a library. Libraries were good places to go when it was too cold or too hot outside, but you couldn’t stay too long. That was okay, Wade got bored easily and he’d never learned to read.
He continued following Mrs. Duncan until they passed through an archway that opened into a dining room with a long table of highly polished very dark wood. Mr. Duncan, looking decidedly less formal than last night, sat at one end. He looked up from a newspaper and nodded as Wade walked in behind his wife.
On the table there was nothing less than a feast for the ages, Wade saw.
Hotcakes stacked high, with butter melting and streaming down the sides. Fried ham, enough to feed a family of five, steamed upon a platter. Biscuits, like the ones in the best cafes and a big bowl of wonderful gravy with pieces of sausage floating in it. There was more. Strips of bacon and a steaming heap of grits. A tall pitcher of orange juice, perspiration beading the clear glass and a glass jug of milk sitting beside a silver decanter, no doubt holding more of the coffee that a small China cup held, the steam soaring upward at Mr. Duncan’s side.
Wade’s mouth watered with enough force to give Niagara Falls a run for its money.
“Wade, have a seat before it gets cold,” Mr. Duncan said, setting the paper to the side. He waved to a seat to the right side of the table where a setting had been placed. Across the table from it, there was a duplicate setting, Mrs. Duncan’s.
Wade took a seat. Gabby took her spot at the table as well. As she filled her plate, Mr. Duncan looked up once more from the newspaper. “It’s okay, Wade. Eat as much or as little as you want. But what you don’t eat, will probably go to waste. And waste is no good thing. Is it?”
“No, sir.” Wade said.
Wade, at first, tried to use any manners that he could remember or recall seeing affected by others, but his hunger won out and he just dug in with a vigor reserved for those that were rescued from a deserted island, awaking from a long come, or a child, taken in from the streets could do.
That meal, that wonderful, delicious, amazing meal, was a very fine thing for Wade. The adults talked as Wade ate. The looks of delight on their faces were clear. They spoke of things that did not concern him and he was glad, as he could not answer as his mouth was never empty of food, even when he gulped in great swigs of juice.
He ate way past full, thinking this day here, this random Saturday in June, was the finest day of his life.
+++
After breakfast, Luthor left Wade and Gabrielle to run a few errands before the day got away from him. After taking care of an issue in the garage, he pulled the car out and pulled onto the street. The Duncan’s’ house was within the town limits of Farmington, Mississippi, but only barely so. It was actually the last address this side of town and beyond Luthor’s property line, the land opened up to the farmland that brought the county of Winchester its enviable prosperity.
The Champion drove well since he’d discovered the root of last night’s hesitation and stutter. He eased down Grace Street leading to the very heart of town. Once there, he parked and walked about making his various stops, carrying his purchases in hand.
He stopped by Ray’s Hardware, went right to what he wanted despite Ray following behind trying to make conversation. Usually, he would humor the old man but with his bad habit of complaining about the war effort spoken in his awful stuttering speech, Luthor had neither the time nor the inclination for it today.
After the hardware store, he ducked into to Greesly’s and picked up a hen and some sides for Gabrielle. After the way Wade sucked down breakfast this morning, they’d decided something more substantial than their Saturday evening dinner was called for. Luthor had watched the boy the whole time. Another man might have been repulsed at the untoward way the boy had taken to the food, but not Luthor. No, he understood very well how someone could eat that way. It had been many years ago, but he had known that gnawing pain of never enough food to ever get your fill. Hunger was more than discomfort; it was a madness that overtook you that could only be cured by either food or death and nothing else in the world would quell its rage.
Luthor enjoyed the way Gabrielle had taken up with the boy. He had expected it. She really was a remarkable woman, but had she not accepted the boy, Luthor would not have gone against her. It was fortunate, especially for young Wade.
Folks spoke and waved as Luthor made his way from shop to shop. He was a well-known figure in town, and it seemed as if no one could pass him by without speaking or at least acknowledging him. It was good for business but so very tiring. As he was weighting himself down with his purchases, he had no desire to stop in the middle of town and ca
rry on a conversation with anyone about anything. Still, he played his part. It was not only expected but also prudent. He had to appear the even-tempered even jovial man that everyone thought him to be, whether he felt that way or not. In truth, he rarely did outside of his house away from Gabrielle.
He had one more stop to make after the five and dime. When he finished there, with the help of a friendly but efficient sales lady, he was glad to be headed back to the car. He loaded everything in the back and passenger seat of the car. The trunk, while roomy, was reserved for other things.
When he pulled back up at home, he was relieved. While getting older, he was still in good shape and the burden of parcels had not been intolerable, his patience with social niceties it seemed was getting thinner with each passing year.
+++
After breakfast, while Luthor was away on errands. Wade settled in helping Gabby with the cleanup and dishes. He had two obstacles, however, to overcome before doing this.
One, he was full. Stuffed. His belly was huge and bloated and he had a real fear that should he bump into something slightly sharp, it would burst like a balloon. This was not a bad thing. Quite to the contrary. He had eaten his fill and he could not remember doing so, to this extent, in the memory of his life. He could not imagine ever being hungry again. Though, he knew he would be. That was the thing, all good things went away and the bad things in life flooded in to replace them once more. For now, he found himself drowsy and lazy, even after sleeping through the night in a bed made for a prince and not the pauper he was. He would, as he did all things, work through it.
The other issue was, he simply did not know what to do. To say his short life was unconventional would be a grave understatement. Most of his time had been spent in mere survival and the actions of a household were all but unknown to him.
Gabby saw his confusion after he’d collected the dishes from the table and scraped any and all scraps out the back door for a few stray cats she liked to feed.