Where Willows Grow

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  ‘‘He had to!’’ Her vehemence made her chest hurt. ‘‘We need the money. And he isn’t gone to parts unknown. He’s right across Kansas, at a job site in Saline County.’’

  ‘‘Are you sure?’’

  ‘‘Of course I’m sure. Why shouldn’t I be?’’

  ‘‘Don’t you think, if he were there, he’d be answering your letters? You were hurt, Anna Mae, and he didn’t come home or even write to check on you? Maybe he’s moved on, so he’s not even getting your letters. Is it possible?’’

  The question brought her up short. Was it possible? She hated that Jack made her wonder, made her think for even one second Harley might not be where he said he would be, doing what he said he would do, earning money to take care of his family. She pointed to the door. ‘‘Get out of here, Jack.’’

  ‘‘Anna Mae—’’

  She hardened her heart to his pleading look and jabbed her finger toward the door. ‘‘Get. Out. Now.’’ She kept her voice low, but the tone held conviction. ‘‘And don’t come back until you’re ready to apologize for slandering Harley. He’s my husband. I love him. I trust him. He’s out there working at some lonely place so he can provide for me and our girls, and I won’t have you putting thoughts in my head to the contrary. Out!’’

  He had the audacity to chuckle. ‘‘Okay, then. Sorry I made you mad. I’ll go, but I’ll be back tomorrow to see to the chores, like I’ve been doing ever since the husband you love and trust decided to walk down the road.’’

  She still held her finger, aimed at the door, like a pistol. It trembled. ‘‘Sometimes I hate you, Jack Berkley.’’

  He raised one eyebrow, his smile sardonic. ‘‘Be careful, Anna Mae. Hate and love are both fiery passions, and they’re only a hairsbreadth apart.’’

  She picked up an enamel plate from the shelf beside the sink and threw it at him. It clanged off the door as he slipped through and closed it behind him. Marjorie’s startled wail carried from the bedroom, and Dorothy came running from the parlor, her doll tucked under her arm.

  ‘‘Mama, what was that noise?’’

  Anna Mae pointed to the plate, which rolled underneath the table and twirled to a halt. ‘‘Mama dropped a plate, darlin’. No need to worry.’’ She brushed past Dorothy to enter the bedroom and lifted Marjorie from her crib.

  Dorothy padded along beside her. ‘‘You dropped it clear across the room?’’

  ‘‘Yes.’’ The word clipped out. Anna Mae patted Marjorie, bringing the baby’s crying under control.

  For the remainder of the evening, Jack’s comments caused a lingering question to haunt Anna Mae’s mind. While she talked with the girls, cleaned up dishes, and read bedtime stories, it never left her. Even as she remembered her adamant support of Harley’s actions and thought of more things she wished she’d said to Jack, the question whispered through her mind. And even as she lay in bed, her arm thrown across the empty slice of mattress where Harley used to lie, missing his presence with an intensity that hurt, one question hovered on the fringes of her subconscious.

  What if Jack is right?

  20

  HARLEY LEANED AGAINST THE CASTLE WALL, the patch of shade a welcome change from the boiling sun. He stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles, and set the lunch bucket in his lap. Dirk sat beside him, big hands folded in prayer. Harley waited until Dirk opened his eyes before carrying his own spoonful of beans to his mouth.

  Neither man spoke as they ate. It was too hot for conversation. Harley reckoned the heat sucked the life out of a person. Just the act of chewing took more energy than he felt he had left in him. Was it this hot back in Spencer? If so, it would take a heap of watering to keep the garden alive. By now the new baby was probably making Annie awkward. Had she asked Jack to take care of watering chores for her?

  His hand stopped midway to his mouth as another unwelcome picture filled his mind: Jack in the garden with his Annie. He plunked the spoon in the beans and slapped the can onto the ground next to his hip, his appetite gone.

  Why had he asked Jack to step in and help? There were lots of reasons. ’Cause he was the closest neighbor. ’Cause Jack was his friend. ’Cause Jack’s folks and Annie’s folks had been friends for all of Annie’s life. ’Cause he trusted him. So why all these odd thoughts now?

  He remembered Annie’s reaction when he’d told her Jack would be helping out. She’d tensed up—he’d seen it. At the time, he’d just figured she was irritated about his leaving. But now that he really thought about it, he’d seen that reaction at other times when Jack’s name came up or the man wandered over for some reason. She’d never cottoned to Jack. Why?

  An ugly idea struck. Could it be, all along, Annie had harbored feelings for Jack? Maybe her reaction was her way of fighting those feelings.

  Harley didn’t like the way his mind was running. He turned toward Dirk, ready to ask Dirk to pray for somebody else to come along who could help out at the farm, but Dirk was leaning back against the rough rock, his eyes closed and mouth slack. Napping. Harley didn’t have the heart to wake him.

  Facing forward again, he wondered: should he go home? Only a couple more weeks, he’d have his third paycheck. He could go home with money in his pocket, at least. He’d earned enough to cover the tax bill for the year—no need to worry over that anymore. Maybe he should just take that next check and go home.

  ‘‘Hey, Harley, thinkin’ about home?’’

  The question took Harley by surprise. He jerked around to find Nelson at the other end of the wall, enjoying the shade and a thick sandwich of roast beef on white bread. Harley’s mouth watered at the sight of that sandwich.

  ‘‘Why you think that?’’ he asked, his gaze on the roast beef.

  Nelson laughed. ‘‘The look in your eyes an’ the beans in the pot. A man who don’t eat must have somethin’ more important on his mind. So . . . you thinkin’ of home?’’

  Harley wasn’t interested in engaging in a conversation with Nelson. He shrugged in response.

  Nelson nodded as if Harley had said a mouthful. ‘‘Yeah. Thought so.’’ His voice boomed out, impossible to ignore. ‘‘So, you a family man?’’

  Dirk stirred. Harley resumed eating while he contemplated giving Nelson an answer.

  ‘‘How many kids?’’

  Harley guessed Nelson wasn’t going to let the subject drop. He sighed. If he answered, maybe the man would go away. ‘‘I got two kids, two girls.’’ A knot formed in his throat as he thought of Dottie and Margie getting bigger there on the farm without him. And the new baby, too, making Annie grow bigger. ‘‘ ’Nother baby comin’, too.’’

  ‘‘That so?’’ Nelson sounded genuinely interested. ‘‘Think this one’ll be a boy?’’

  Harley felt his lips twitch as a smile threatened. A boy would be nice. Somebody to show how to plant and plow and care for animals . . . Annie seemed to be thinking girl, but who knew? This one could be a boy, couldn’t it?

  ‘‘Yes, sir, must be tough to be here when you got a wife, two little girls, and a new baby comin’ at home.’’ Nelson’s tone turned thoughtful. He took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed with his jaw working back and forth, his gaze aimed outward. Swallowing, he kept his gaze away from Harley. ‘‘Now, me, if I had somethin’ like that at home, I wouldn’t be miles away. I’d stick close, where I could take care o’ my own.’’ Choking out a chuckle, he finally sent a cocky look in Harley’s direction. ‘‘But that’s me.’’

  Harley didn’t answer. Kept his jaw clamped shut on the angry words that wanted release. Nelson didn’t have any business telling Harley what to do. Harley was taking care of his own the best way he knew how.

  Nelson popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and heaved to his feet. ‘‘Gonna go get a drink. See you fellas later.’’ He ambled away.

  Dirk squinted at Nelson’s retreating back, then looked at Harley. ‘‘You makin’ friends with Nelson?’’

  ‘‘Nah.’’ Harley lifted the bean pot a
nd took a bite. The beans were nearly tasteless, but he needed something in his stomach. ‘‘Can’t imagine ever bein’ friends with that man.’’ He took another bite, then admitted, ‘‘Funny, though, how he was talkin’ about just what I had been thinkin’.’’

  Dirk raised his eyebrows. ‘‘Oh? What’s that?’’

  ‘‘Goin’ home.’’

  Dirk offered a slow-motion nod. ‘‘I can see why you’d want to go. Got good reasons.’’

  ‘‘Good reasons?’’ Harley nearly barked the question.

  Dirk blinked, his expression innocent. ‘‘Well, sure. Annie an’ your little girls. Those’re good reasons to go home.’’

  Harley made himself relax. He needed to quit reading things into every comment; of course Dirk wouldn’t suspect anything about Jack. ‘‘Yeah . . . Yeah, I got good reasons.’’

  ‘‘I’d miss you,’’ Dirk said, lifting his broad shoulders in a shrug, ‘‘but I’d understand if you was to leave. And I guess that would make an opening for that friend of Nelson’s.’’

  Harley scowled. ‘‘Friend of Nelson’s?’’

  Dirk nodded. ‘‘Yep. Heard him askin’ the boss about it yesterday. He’s got some friend from town needin’ work, but Mr. Peterson said the crew’s full. Only way he could hire another’n is if somebody up and left.’’

  So that was it. Harley nodded, his brows low and lips puckered. Nelson was trying to make Harley homesick enough to leave so somebody else could get his paycheck. Well, it wouldn’t work. This job belonged to Harley. It was the only security his family had right now. He chomped another bite of beans, determination filling him. He’d stay on ’til the task was done. Nelson wasn’t going to run him off. And neither were these ridiculous worries about Jack with Annie.

  Jack poured the remainder of the water on the tomato plants, then headed for the shed to put the bucket back where he’d found it. So far, despite nature’s best efforts to destroy Anna Mae’s garden, he’d managed to keep the plants alive. They looked sad, and they weren’t overflowing with bounty, but there were beans, cukes, and tomatoes to pick every day, so at least her family wouldn’t starve.

  He glanced across the yard. Anna Mae sat under the weeping willow on an old patchwork quilt that she’d spread out on the grassless ground. A chuckle found its way from his chest. Seeing her there took him back about a dozen years, to when she was still a young girl and he was bent on tormenting her. It was always the best way to get her attention.

  She’d been under the tree, like she was now, only with a book in her lap. He’d sneaked up behind her and stuck a garden snake under her nose. My, how she could shriek! And she ran faster than most girls, too. He could still recall the exhilaration of the chase, her bare feet pounding behind him, his laugh not quite covering her threats to get even. When he was sure she was right on his heels, he’d spun around, captured her in his arms, and planted a kiss directly on her surprised mouth.

  He touched the side of his head, remembering how the clop she gave him had made his ears ring. But it had been worth it. Ah, she’d always been a feisty thing. He thumped the bucket on the shelf, then remained hidden in shadow, enjoying the opportunity to secretly observe her.

  She was so graceful looking with her feet tucked to the side, her skirt smoothed over her knees. Her soft smile as she watched Marjorie bang a rag doll on the quilt made his heart thud with desire for her to look at him in that same way. Anna Mae’s beauty was eye-catching, even with the obvious rounding of her belly showing the growth of Harley’s child inside of her.

  As he watched, Dorothy scampered to her mother’s side. The little girl held out a cluster of wilted wild flowers, and Anna Mae took them with a smile, lifting them to her nose and making a great show of inhaling their fragrance. Suddenly she jerked upright, an expression of surprise on her face. Jack took a hesitant step forward, worry striking. But Anna Mae caught Dorothy’s hand and placed it on her stomach.

  Jack watched the child’s eyes grow wide, her smile huge, and his worry faded. Dorothy’s giggle carried across the yard to Jack’s ears, stirring a longing in his soul to be a part of the circle the mother and children created. What would Anna Mae do if he strode across the grounds, pulled aside those drooping branches, placed his hand on her belly to feel the movement of her child, and kissed her while the babe kicked inside?

  He snorted. He knew. She’d smack him good, for sure. Rubbing his chin with one finger, he contemplated doing it anyway. Might be worth it. It had been a long time since he’d stolen a kiss from Anna Mae.

  Only the remembrance of her throwing that plate at his head three weeks ago kept him planted in the shed. Even though he’d come faithfully each day to see to the milking, egg collecting, and gardening, and had carted her to church each Sunday, she hadn’t softened toward him. But she’d have to set her anger aside here pretty soon. Her tax deadline was coming up. She’d need him to take her to the county courthouse to pay that bill. And since she didn’t have the money to cover it, he’d have to step in and help. How could she stay mad at somebody who saved the farm for her?

  She couldn’t. Jack was banking on that.

  Anna Mae kept an eye on the shed where Jack had disappeared a few minutes ago. What was he doing in there? It didn’t take but a second or two to put the bucket away. He must have found something out of place. She wished he’d emerge so she could say what needed saying and be done with it.

  Her throat felt tight, knowing she’d have to talk to him. The past weeks had been so awkward, with him showing up, caring for things like nothing had happened. But after what he’d said, everything had changed. She couldn’t look at him without wondering if he was right about Harley. His words had plagued her constantly, creating a knot of tension between her shoulder blades that never went away, not even when she prayed. She had no desire to approach Jack, but what choice did she have? There was no other way to get to Hutchinson except to walk. And she couldn’t do that.

  Dorothy sat down on the quilt with Marjorie and danced the rag doll across Marjorie’s dimpled knees, making the baby giggle. Anna Mae touched Dorothy’s hair. ‘‘Darlin’? Would you stay here with Marjorie for just a minute?’’

  Dorothy flashed a quick smile. ‘‘Sure, Mama.’’ Turning back to the baby, she sang, ‘‘Margie-pargie, puddin’ an’ pie . . .’’

  Anna Mae struggled to her feet, one hand beneath her belly, and headed across the hard ground toward the shed. Wind tossed her hair across her face, and she pushed the strands aside, focusing on her destination. A movement near the wide doorway—a shifting of shadows—made her pause for a moment as a chill wiggled down her spine. Pressing a hand to the small of her back, she wondered about the odd sensation. She shook her head, reasoning that the sudden change from shade to sun was making her light-headed, and she pushed her feet to move forward.

  When she reached the shed, she stopped in the slice of deep shade outside the doorway and called, ‘‘Jack?’’

  He emerged from the shadows, a smile on his face. ‘‘Well, hey, Anna Mae. I’ve been organizing Harley’s tools in here, makin’ sure everything still works right.’’

  Her next thought chilled her. Iron tools clanked when used, and she hadn’t heard a thing. She forced the peculiar feeling away and pasted on a stiff smile. ‘‘Thanks. I . . . I need to ask a favor.’’

  ‘‘Anything.’’ The word came quickly and carried an intimate tone.

  Anna Mae took one shuffling step backward. ‘‘Property taxes come due August first, so I need to go into the courthouse and pay them.’’

  Jack scratched behind his left ear. ‘‘And you want me to take you?’’

  She swallowed. ‘‘Yes, please.’’

  He winked. ‘‘Sure, I’d be proud to cart you in to Hutchinson. Let’s see, the first is a Saturday. Probably would be better to pay the taxes early rather than late, so let’s plan to go in on the last day of July. That suit you?’’

  That gave Harley nearly two weeks to get another paycheck to her. Oh, h
ow she prayed the money would be here in time! But if it wasn’t, she’d have to make some sort of arrangement to pay part of the bill now and the rest when his check did arrive.

  ‘‘Anna Mae? You okay?’’

  Anna Mae jerked, suddenly aware Jack had been waiting for an answer. She squirmed. ‘‘Yes. Yes, I’m okay. We can go in that last Friday.’’

  Jack’s grin spread. ‘‘Good. Let’s leave midmorning, and we can grab a bite to eat at a café in town, celebrate getting those taxes paid, huh?’’

  Anna Mae cringed. ‘‘I don’t have money for that, Jack.’’

  ‘‘No problem. My treat.’’

  ‘‘But . . . I don’t have gas money to give you, either.’’

  Jack’s hand crept out, his fingers brushing down the length of her arm. ‘‘Honey, don’t worry about that. Friends do favors for each other. I told Harley I’d cart you around as needed, and that’s what I’ll do. As many times and as many places as you want to go.’’

  To Anna Mae’s chagrin, tears spurted into her eyes. Honey. The endearment washed her in longing for the days when a glance from Harley made her feel cherished and loved. How she wished Harley were here to hold her and tell her she didn’t need to worry—he’d take care of that tax bill and the garden and everything else.

  She turned to go back to the girls, but Jack’s hand on her arm stopped her.

  ‘‘Anna Mae, I want you to know somethin’—and this is a promise. You don’t have to worry. You’ll be cared for. Do you understand?’’

  Woodenly, meeting Jack’s eyes, Anna Mae nodded. Oh yes. She understood perfectly what Jack was saying. She sucked in a huge breath of hot air, jerked her arm free, and ran back to the sheltering limbs of the weeping willow.

  21

  ‘‘I’M SORRY, MRS. PHIPPS, but the law is clear. If you don’t pay your taxes, you don’t keep your land.’’

  Anna Mae wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and blinked rapidly, a feeble attempt to hold back tears of frustration. ‘‘But I can pay some of it now,’’ she said, her voice weak in her own ears. ‘‘And the rest as soon as my husband’s paycheck arrives. He’s got a job—with the WPA, steady work—but for some reason—’’