He slowly mounted the steps, then opened the screened door on to the porch. It was more crowded than usual: Mary-Love sat on the glider with Early Haskew next to her. Sister was on the swing with a little girl beside her. And on the other glider, the one with the chenille blanket thrown over it, sat James’s sister-in-law Queenie Strickland and Queenie’s son, Malcolm. Malcolm was picking the threads out of a chenille rose. James had not seen any of the Stricklands since his wife’s funeral.
“James, I’m so glad you could get away,” said Mary-Love. “Queenie came all the way from Nashville to see us!”
Queenie Strickland, who was short and dimpled with bobbed hair that was dyed a shiny black, jumped up and barreled her way toward James, crying out, “Oh, Lord, James Caskey, don’t you miss her!”
“I do, I—” But he could say no more, for Queenie had grabbed him around his narrow waist and squeezed the breath right out of him.
“Genevieve was the light of my life! I am miserable without her! I came down to see if you were dead of grief yet!” She released James for a moment and pointed to the glider. “You remember my boy, Malcolm, he was prostrated at his aunt’s funeral, say hello to James Caskey, your sweet uncle, boy!”
“Hey, Uncle James,” said Malcolm sullenly, and managed at that moment to pick a hole through the chenille spread with his thumbnail.
“And that’s my preciousest girl, Lucille, who came down with mumps on the day our darling died and wanted something desperate to come to the funeral but I wouldn’t let her even though I had to put her in the hospital in order to get down here in time and one nurse told me she had never heard a child carry on the way that child carried on ’cause she couldn’t come to her Aunt Genevieve’s funeral!”
Lucille appeared to be about three years old, so she could not have been more than two when Genevieve died. That seemed very young to show such a great interest in the obsequies of even one’s closest relatives. However, as if on cue, Lucille burst into tears in the swing, and pulled away with beating fists when Sister attempted to put an arm around her for comfort.
James drew back from Queenie, who had lifted her short arms with the apparent intention of embracing him again. He felt distinctly as if he had fallen into a trap. He looked from Queenie to Mary-Love, as if wondering which of them had been responsible for laying this snare in his unobservant path.
“Well, Queenie,” said James after a moment, “did Carl come down here with you?”
Queenie clapped the flat of her hand against her breast, as if to still the sudden beating of her injured heart.
“You have wounded me in speaking of that man!” cried Queenie, staggering backward and waving her other hand carefully behind her to make certain she did not trip over anything.
James stood very still, and was almost certain that he had just stepped into a second pitfall.
Queenie staggered all the way back to the glider, and fell into it heavily. She sat on Malcolm’s hand, causing the boy to squeal. He made a great show of his difficulty in extricating his hand from beneath his mother’s bulk, then wiggled his fingers to see if they were broken. When he judged them whole, he bunched them into a fist and punched his mother’s thigh, but she took no notice at all.
“Mr. Haskew,” cried Queenie, “I am sorry!”
“It’s all right,” said Early automatically, though neither he nor anyone else had any idea why Queenie Strickland should beg his pardon.
“You are not family,” said Queenie in explanation. “You should not be burdened with the Strickland family troubles.”
“You want me to go inside?” said Early amiably, already getting to his feet.
“You sit down,” said Mary-Love in a low voice. Then she said more loudly, “Miz Strickland, if you are gone talk family trouble, then I would suggest that you send away these children. I don’t particularly want to hear Strickland family tribulations myself, but I certainly don’t feel they are fit for the ears of your little boy and your little girl.”
“I will not!” cried Queenie. “These children know as much as I do! They have suffered as I have suffered! Has your father beat you, Malcolm Strickland?” she said, turning to her son as if in cross-examination.
“I’ll beat him!” cried Malcolm belligerently, and he punched his mother’s thigh again.
“Has he touched your pretty angel face, Lucille Strickland?” said Queenie.
Queenie’s daughter, who had only just subsided from her previous eruption, suddenly threw her hands up to her face and burst once more into loud sobbing. Sister attempted to draw her hands away, but Lucille wailed so loudly that Sister allowed the tiny hands to snap back into position, so that at least the cries were muffled.
“Carl Strickland,” said Queenie in a low, awful voice, “laid his hands on my body. My dress covers the bruises. I would not have you see them for the world. If I had stayed with that man, people in Nashville would have held my name dog-cheap. I will reveal to y’all the greatest mistake that I ever made in my entire life. I will say it out to you, even though there is one of you here who is of no relation whatsoever...” Here she gazed at Early Haskew, and then glanced over the porch in a general sort of way. “I got into the wrong pew with that man.”
The Caskeys were uncomfortable. Sister would not look at Queenie Strickland, but stared instead at the little girl sitting beside her. Occasionally she attempted to whisper a word or two of consolation. Mary-Love sat stolidly with her arms crossed over her breast and stared at Queenie as if in disbelief that a civilized woman should so disgrace herself. Now and then she glanced up at James reproachfully as if the whole business were his fault. She rather considered that it was, for it was through his marriage that the Caskeys were connected with such a woman as Queenie Strickland. James stood exactly as he stood when he had first stepped onto the porch. He did not know what to do and had no idea what to say and was cognizant of every thought going through Mary-Love’s head. In his heart he agreed with her—it was all his fault. All that he might do then was to get the business over with as quickly as possible.
“So you’ve left Carl, is that what you’re saying, Queenie?”
“Of course!” cried Queenie, rising to her feet and apparently preparing to rush James once more. He held up his hands and waved her down again. She fell back onto the glider, but not before Malcolm had another opportunity deliberately to stick his hand beneath her so that he again might have the pleasure of squealing and of administering another punch to his mother’s thigh. “Did you want me to stay with him?” cried Queenie. “Did you want to see me beat down into the ground by that devil-man’s heavy hand?”
“Oh, Ma, I’d beat him!” cried Malcolm, now administering a volley of illustrative punches against his mother’s leg.
“Well,” said James, after a moment’s thought, “where is Carl?”
“Is Carl Strickland in Nashville?” cried Queenie wildly, jumping up and down on the glider. “Do I know? He may be. He may not be. Does Carl Strickland know where I am is a better question. He does not. Or if he does, I am not the one who told him. I put my bags and my darlings in the back seat of a car and I drove directly to Perdido, Alabama, without a license or ten dollars to my name.”
Sister looked up quickly at this mention of money.
Queenie was suddenly quiet. She looked around the porch and when she continued her manner was greatly subdued.
“Do I have a place to go? is another question you might well ask, James Caskey. And what would the answer be, Malcolm Strickland? Would the answer be ‘yes’? No, it wouldn’t. Would the answer be ‘no,’ Lucille Strickland? Yes, it would. The Stricklands—except Carl Strickland—are without a roof for their heads. Their automobile is broken down in front of the Perdido town hall, blocking traffic, and will never move again. The Stricklands—except Carl Strickland—don’t have the ready cash to purchase themselves a box of rotten apples sold by a colored boy on the side of the highway.”
James Caskey collapsed onto the glider between
Early Haskew and Mary-Love. For several moments no one said anything, and all that could be heard was the sobbing of Lucille, which had begun anew when her mother had addressed her with the rhetorical question. Ivey Sapp could be seen through the kitchen window that looked out onto the porch, unabashedly watching all that was happening.
“Why exactly did you come to Perdido, Miz Strickland?” asked Mary-Love in a cold voice.
“You have got to call me Queenie! You just got to! I came to Perdido because of James. I don’t have any family. I had Genevieve, and she was all. We were Snyders. All the Snyders are dead. Except my brother Pony Snyder. Pony went to Oklahoma. Married an Indian girl. My darlings here have got fifteen, twenty little Indian cousins now, I hear. But I couldn’t go live with Pony. They don’t have anything. I don’t even know what his Indian wife’s first name is. Would I raise my darlings on an Indian reservation?”
“I’d shoot ’em, Ma!” cried Malcolm.
“I know you would, darling,” said Queenie indulgently, brushing her son’s hair with an affectionate hand. “But I was thinking about all those times my sweet sister stayed with me, and I’d say to her, ‘Genevieve Snyder’—I never did get used to her married name, and I guess I’ll always think of her as a Snyder—‘why are you staying here with me when you’ve got the best husband in all the world pining away for you down in Perdido? Why aren’t you with him?’ And she’d say, ‘I don’t know, ’cause you’re right, he’s the best man in all the world, he’d do anything for me or for you or for your children. I guess I just love Nashville too much for my own good.’ That was her problem, she loved Nashville. I never saw a girl take to a city the way Genevieve took to Nashville. She couldn’t be happy anywhere else in the world, I guess. So she told me if anything ever happened and I needed help to come down here and speak to her husband James Caskey, and when something happened—something truly awful—I got in my car and here I am.”
. . .
Though patently meretricious, Queenie Strickland’s speech achieved its desired effect. James Caskey was persuaded to assist her and her children. Their meager baggage was carried into his house by Bray, and later in the afternoon Grace Caskey was introduced to her younger cousins. By way of greeting, Lucille smeared chocolate onto Grace’s dress and Malcolm punched her in the stomach.
For the first time in a long while James had dinner served at his own table instead of eating at Mary-Love’s. Roxie came back from Elinor’s for the evening to cook for them. James had no wish to inflict Queenie and Malcolm and Lucille on the rest of his family. He even took the precaution of sending Grace next door to Mary-Love’s, and Mary-Love promised Grace that she could stay for as long as those awful people remained with her father. Over the meal, James said to Queenie, “You sure you want to stay in Perdido? You really think the three of you could be happy here? Here where you don’t know anybody?”
“Well, we know you, James Caskey. Who else do we have to know? And now we have been properly introduced to the main part of your family, even though I counted more of ’em at the funeral, I’ll probably get to meet ’em all in time, so who else could I want? Lucille and Malcolm are happy as pipers.”
Lucille and Malcolm drummed their heels against the rungs of their chairs.
“All right,” said James Caskey wearily, regretting that he had ever mourned his loneliness in that house, “then tomorrow I will start looking out a place for you to live.”
“A place?” cried Queenie, swiveling her head all around, but managing to keep her eye firmly on the gravy boat that she was tilting over her rice. “What is wrong with right here? You have room—all the room in the world! We could have moved our whole entire house inside your front parlor, James Caskey—that’s how much room you have.”
James thought he caught the glint of another trap hidden in the fallen leaves in his path. He stopped stock-still, looked about for alternate routes, and at last said quietly, “No, Queenie.”
“James Caskey, you—”
“I will look you out a place to live. I will pay for it, and I will take care of you—within certain limits—for Genevieve’s sake. But I cannot let you stay in this house with Grace and me.”
“You are lonely!” cried Queenie. James realized, in something of a panic, that he could see a very large trap indeed, just a little farther on in the forest.
“I have Grace!”
“Your darling girl is a tiny child! She cannot keep you company the way I could! We could be a happy family. You have lost your wife—my darling Genevieve—and I have lost a husband, that heathen rapscallion Carl Strickland, I’m ashamed to bear his stinking name! I’m ashamed to have my darlings wear it through life! It’s my one comfort—”
“Queenie,” said James, interrupting, “you can stay here tonight. But tomorrow I will find someplace else for you to live.”
“James Caskey, I know why you are doing this. I know why you are turning me out of your home.”
“Why?” he asked, very much puzzled.
“Because darling Malcolm broke that itty-bitty piece of glass this afternoon, he just wanted to look at it, he thought it was so pretty—I did, too. I said, ‘Malcolm Strickland, put James’s thing back where it belongs and don’t you pick up anything in this house ever again,’ and he said, ‘Ma, I won’t ever pick up anything of Uncle James’s ever again as long as I live.’ I tried to fix it, but those pieces just wouldn’t all fit back together again.”
James Caskey didn’t have the heart to ask what had been broken, and for the next week he was reluctant even to glance at his shelves of beautiful things for fear he would discover which piece the child had destroyed.
“That’s not why,” he said to Queenie. “I didn’t even know about...the accident.”
“Ohhh! Then why did I say anything!” cried Queenie involuntarily. “James, we could be so happy!”
But James, displaying uncharacteristic fortitude, would not be persuaded, and next day he bought outright the house next to Dr. Benquith’s on the sunny side of the low hill that rose up west of the town hall. It was a merciful ten-minute walk, at the least, from there to the Caskeys’ houses, and Queenie was so round and roly-poly that everyone figured that she wouldn’t often go to the physical exertion of making that journey. Queenie and her children slept in that house that very first night on rollaway beds appropriated from Mary-Love’s storage rooms.
Mary-Love, once she was convinced that James had accepted the blame for having lured Queenie Strickland to Perdido, set out to make the situation as easy as possible for him. She saw to the furniture in one day’s shopping in Mobile, thus demonstrating, if anyone had ever doubted, the extent of her procrastination in obtaining the furnishings for Oscar and Elinor’s house.
James introduced Oscar and Elinor to Queenie and her children. Something in Elinor’s manner, or in her eyes, cowed even Malcolm and Lucille. Malcolm didn’t kick and Lucille didn’t cry, although when they got home Malcolm showed his mother a bruise on his arm, claiming that Elinor had twisted the flesh there when no one was looking.
Elinor, with the aid of Roxie and Zaddie, ran up curtains for all the windows in Queenie’s house, took them over, hung them up, and then went away again without accepting so much as a cup of coffee or a piece of cake for their effort.
Queenie didn’t have to worry about money, for James Caskey set up small accounts for her in certain stores, and she was allowed to take away what she needed. Once, however, in Berta Hamilton’s dress shop, when Queenie pointed out a long coat with a fur collar and wide fur sleeves, Berta Hamilton said pointedly, “Oh, Miz Strickland, I think that’s probably not gone fit you too well...”
Queenie insisted on trying it on anyway and, contrary to the prediction, it fit perfectly, and Berta Hamilton was forced to say outright what she had only discreetly hinted at before: “I am not gone put a hundred-and-fifty-dollar coat on Mr. James’s bill when you have already spent three hundred and sixty-two dollars in here this month, Miz Strickland.”
&nb
sp; Queenie fumed, and Queenie fretted, but Queenie went away without the coat. She began to understand what James had meant by “certain limits.”
Chapter 21
Christmas
Queenie Strickland found that Perdido was a tough nut to crack. There was no question but that she was better off than she had been in Nashville; she was being taken care of in a more agreeable way, she had a nicer house, and most importantly she had got rid of her husband, Carl. But other things weren’t so quick in coming; for instance, friends and acquaintances. No woman who talked as much as Queenie Strickland could get along for any length of time without people, and she was the sort, moreover, who rather wore friends down. She needed a number of them so that she could bear down upon them one by one a little at a time; that way the abrasions she inflicted had time to heal and be forgotten. She wasted no time in building a new circle.
To Florida Benquith next door, Queenie—sweet as sweet could be—sent over a pie for the doctor and scraps for the dog. The next day she asked Florida if she wouldn’t mind setting a hem for her with pins, it would only take three seconds. Florida, envious of the social power wielded by the Caskeys in the town, craftily acquiesced to become Queenie’s friend. This, she calculated, would either provide a way of becoming closer with the Caskeys if Queenie ultimately proved herself acceptable to Mary-Love and the rest, or else specifically to annoy them in case Queenie turned out to be an outcast. Thus, Queenie gained a foothold, and from it began deliberately to enlarge her circle of acquaintances. For one thing, she joined the bridge group that met every Tuesday afternoon.
There were two bridge clubs in Perdido, the more fashionable convening on Monday afternoons, the other on the following day; at the second, the principal topic of conversation was what had been said, worn, and served at bridge the day before. The first group centered around Mary-Love; the second revolved around Florida Benquith. Elinor Caskey, when she left Mary-Love’s house, and would no longer have anything to do with her mother-in-law, had dropped into the second group. She was rather resented there, first because she carried the greatest social weight, and second because she was a member actually by default. But through these Tuesday afternoon gatherings, Elinor and Queenie became acquainted with each other.
Blackwater: The Complete Caskey Family Saga Page 24