Walking Across Egypt

by Clyde Edgerton

  Mattie asked if anybody wanted a second helping of dessert. She wanted everybody to be full and satisfied. This had been the most unusual day—strange, full, brimming, yet sad—and had just about worn her out with all the strange bright sparkles and dark fogs. She couldn’t keep up with all that had happened. She had hoped Wesley could be touched by his visit to the church, could have listened carefully to the sermon. Then he ended up running away from the law in Harvey Odum’s maroon car.

  She needed to have a long talk with him. To show him what it said in the Bible about stealing, if that was, in fact, what he’d done. “Who needs a little more dessert?”

  “We got to get out of here,” said the sheriff, standing. This could go on all day, he thought. Got to get untangled from all this.

  “Well, I’m glad you-all could come by,” said Mattie.

  Robert looked at her. She’s crazy, he thought. I’ll have to call Elaine. Mama will have to get a checkup, some kind of mental checkup.

  “It was mighty good,” said Larry, standing. “Let’s go,” he said to Wesley.

  “Where does he go next?” asked Laurie.

  “To the station.”

  “I need to call my uncle,” said Wesley.

  “We’ve got to go now,” said the sheriff.

  “I’m allowed one phone call. The law allows me one phone call.”

  “Go ahead.” I’m never going to get out of here, ever, he thought.

  Wesley dialed Lamar’s number. “Lamar, they got me . . . Mrs. Rigsbee’s. Yeah . . . Yeah . . . By the police station or somewhere, and then back to the RC, I guess.”

  XI

  Everyone except Robert and Laurie had left.

  Laurie was in the bathroom. She sat on the commode, looking at the space heater. What a strange meal, she thought. Robert certainly has an unusual family. Wesley seemed like he wanted to stay.

  Robert sat at his place at the kitchen table. Mattie finished clearing the table.

  “Do you want me to help you with that?” Robert asked.

  “I’ll get it. You sit still.”

  “Mother, I need to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead,” said Mattie. She was gathering up the tablecloth.

  “Have you been feeling all right?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “I just wondered if . . .”

  “What?”

  “I just wondered . . .”

  “I just feel bad about that boy having to go back to the RC and all. I feel sorry for him.”

  “Well, that boy don’t feel sorry for you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Well, he . . . he, he’s a thief, criminal, juvenile delinquent.”

  “I still feel sorry for him. Having to sit in that place and can’t get out.”

  “That’s the best place for him.”

  “He’s never had a chance to hear the Gospel.”

  “What’s that going to do for him?”

  “Robert!” Mattie stopped and stared at her son.

  “He’s got as good a chance as anybody else to get the Gospel. They probably got Gideon Bibles all over the RC.”

  “Nobody ever loved him.” Mattie held the tablecloth so no crumbs dropped out, and started for the back door.

  “If they did he probably stole their car.”

  “Well. I don’t know what to think.” She stepped out into the backyard and shook out the tablecloth. Back inside, she said, “Matthew says—”

  “Mother, I know what Matthew says.”

  “No, you don’t. Not in a long time.”

  “Yes, I do. I listened to what Matthew said for twenty-three years.”

  “Well, you don’t know what I’m fixing to say. I found it in Carrie’s concordance while I was sitting in church today. ‘Whatso ye do unto one of the least of these my brethren you do also to me.’ And ‘Whatso ye do not do to one of the least of these ye do not do unto me.’ It was Jesus talking about people in prison. In prison. Wesley is certainly one of the least of these my brethren.”

  “I’ll say.” Robert sipped his coffee. “You’ve already done for him, Mama. You’ve already done I don’t know what. Doesn’t the Bible say when to stop?”

  “No. Not that I know of. I’ve got to wash those dishes.”

  “I’ll dry.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “No, let me help.”

  “I just. . . ,” said Mattie.

  “Anybody home?” said Pearl from the back door.

  “Come on in,” said Mattie.

  As Pearl stepped up from the back step into the den, Laurie returned from the bathroom.

  “How do you do?” said Laurie.

  “What a pretty day out there,” said Pearl. She saw Laurie. “Hello.”

  “This is Pearl Turnage, my sister,” said Mattie. “And this is Laurie Thomas, Robert’s friend.”

  “Nice to meet you. How are you all today?”

  “Pretty good,” said Robert. “I just survived the Alamo.”

  “Dominoes?”

  “I just survived the Alamo.”

  “Oh. The Alamo.”

  “Come on over here, sit down, and eat a little pie and ice cream,” said Mattie. “It has been something. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  “Oh, I don’t need any pie and ice cream. But, my goodness, it does look good. Well, maybe just a little piece of pie.” She sat down at the table with Laurie and Robert. “It’s such a pretty day out there. Oh, before I forget it,” she said to Mattie, “the stainless steels are in. Mr. Crosley called.”

  “Good. But I’ll be pretty busy next week getting ready for the yard sale. Let’s go the week after.”

  “Okay. Any time.”

  “Stainless steel what?” asked Robert.

  “Caskets,” said Mattie. “We went to look, but the stainless steels won’t in yet.”

  “Oh.” I don’t think I’ll follow up on this one, thought Robert, not with Laurie here.

  “No need not to get that done while you can,” said Pearl. “Don’t you think?” she asked Laurie.

  “Oh, yes ma’am.” What is she talking about? thought Laurie.

  “And what was your last name?” Pearl asked Laurie.

  “Thomas.”

  “Ever know a Malley Thomas?”

  “I’ve got a cousin named Malley.”

  “Won’t Malley the one used to play fiddle?” said Mattie.

  “He sure was,” said Pearl. “Him and two others used to play at square dances. Course that would be your cousin’s great-grandaddy or great-uncle or something, I’ll bet. Who were those other two fellows, Mattie?”

  “Leed Stone and, ah, Press King,” said Mattie, setting ice cream and pie in front of Pearl. “Press was the one had asthma so bad he couldn’t sleep in a bed. Had to sleep like he was in a barber chair.”

  “No,” said Pearl, “I think that was Malley. Anyway, they used to play after the ball games they had down at the . . . at the, ah, what was the name of that field down below the Barn field?”

  “Let’s see,” said Mattie. “I can’t remember. What was it?”

  “The fields had names?” asked Robert.

  “You’ve heard me call the names of fields,” said Mattie.

  “I sure don’t remember it.”

  “Oh yes,” said Pearl. “All the fields around where we lived was named.” She spooned pie and ice cream.

  “What were some of the names?” asked Laurie.

  “Well,” Pearl swallowed. “Across the road was the Barn field and then heading down the hill was the one I was just trying to remember. Once you got to the bottom of the hill was the Corner field and then down the path to the mill was the Branch field.”

  “Old man Oakley used to burn the hillside of that Branch field every fall,” Mattie said, “so in the spring, strawberries would grow as big as the end of your thumb. They came back every spring.”

  “What was the name of that field?” asked Pearl.

  “Let’s see . . . I
can’t remember.”

  “All the fields were named?” said Robert.

  “Oh sure,” said Pearl. “Every one.”

  “Just beyond the Branch field,” said Mattie, “you turned off, and back in there was the House field, named after the old lady lived in there, Mildred House. The only way she could kill a chicken was catch it before it got off the roost, hold it between her legs and choke it to death.”

  “Didn’t they used to chop their heads off?” asked Laurie.

  “Chop it off or wring it,” said Robert.

  “Hers was a unusual method,” said Pearl.

  “What was the name of that field, Pearl?” asked Mattie.

  “Well, let’s see. I can’t remember. It’ll come to me. Anyhow, beyond the House field was the Hogarty field, wadn’t it?”

  “Yeah. And let’s see. On the other side of the road was Buzzard field—close to the old buzzard rock, and up from that was the Medlin field.”

  “And across from that’s the one we’re trying to think of. It’s where we were when Tom Sikes told you your legs were skinny,” said Pearl.

  “Yeah, and I went running in to Grandma and told her Tom Sikes said my legs were skinny, and she says, ‘Well, honey, they are a mite thin.’”

  “I’ve heard about that a few times,” Robert said to Laurie. “But I didn’t know about naming the fields.”

  “I wish I could remember the name of that one,” said Pearl.

  The front doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” said Robert.

  “It’ll come to us. One of us,” said Mattie.

  “This is very interesting,” said Laurie. “You should have been here earlier, Mrs. Turnage. This has been a very interesting day.”

  Robert answered the door and came back in with Harvey Odum, who had come for his car.

  “It just burns me up,” Harvey was saying to Robert, “stole out of the church parking lot. Hey, Miss Pearl, Miss Mattie.”

  “This is Laurie Thomas,” said Robert. “Harvey Odum.”

  “Howdy, Miss Thomas. And I swear I hadn’t left the key in the car over five times in my entire life.”

  Harvey, a short man, smoothed down his very sparse hair with his hand. He wore a bow tie. Harvey was always in charge of lighting the Christmas tree at church. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in all this, Miss Mattie,” said Harvey.

  “Don’t worry about that, Harvey. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  “I am too. But I’m glad they found the car. Except it does give you a funny feeling—like somebody’s been through your dresser drawers or something like that; hard to explain if you ain’t had something like this happen to you. I hope it ain’t banged up in any way.”

  “It’s out here,” said Robert.

  “That’s a stolen car?” asked Pearl.

  “Well, they think maybe so, yes. By the boy I visited last Sunday.”

  “Your little boyfriend from the prison?”

  Boyfriend? thought Laurie. This gets more strange, she thought.

  Harvey walked out into the backyard. They all followed him.

  Harvey walked around the car, inspecting. “Looks okay on the outside.”

  “Looks like new,” said Mattie.

  “Wonder why he brought it over here? You say you visited him or something?”

  “I know him,” said Mattie.

  Harvey stopped and looked at Mattie. “Is that right? You know him?”

  “He had dinner over here,” said Robert. “Just now.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Well, the sheriff was here, too,” said Mattie.

  “One of the deputies had dinner, too,” said Robert.

  “Just about everybody had dinner,” said Laurie.

  “They were having dinner over here? With the boy that stole the car?!” asked Harvey.

  “He was at church, too,” said Robert.

  “At church? Well, I know he was at church. That’s where he stole my car from.”

  “No. He was in church,” said Robert. “In the choir.”

  “I couldn’t make out who it was,” said Mattie.

  “In the choir? Was that him? I do declare. I wondered . . . I saw the two fellows come in, then leave.”

  “One of them, the young one, is the one took the car,” said Mattie. “It gets kind of complicated.”

  “It does, don’t it. I’m just glad to get my car back.” Harvey bent and looked at the interior. “Looks like he didn’t do it no damage inside, thank God. And there’s the keys.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought he would damage it,” said Mattie. “I think he meant to borrow it and bring it back and leave it here for you to pick up.”

  “He stole it, Mama.”

  “So that was him in church,” said Harvey. “I be doggone.”

  “That’s right,” said Robert.

  “And he had dinner here? He just had dinner here?”

  “That’s right.”

  Harvey got into the car, put his hand on the key. “You some kin to him or something?” Harvey looked up at Mattie.

  “He thinks I’m his grandma.”

  “His grandma?” Harvey kept his hand on the key but didn’t turn it. “You’re not, are you?”

  Laurie, standing behind Mattie, shook her head back and forth.

  “Oh no, but he needs one,” said Mattie.

  Pearl started inside for a dip of snuff.

  Harvey cranked the car. “I tell you, this steering wheel feels dirty, somehow. Know what I mean?” he said to Robert. He put the gear shift in reverse and started backing away. “Well, I’ll be seeing you all.”

  “Harvey!” called Mattie.

  Harvey braked the LeBaron. Mattie approached his window. “The boy’s in right much trouble. If you can find it in your heart not to press charges, I’d appreciate it. I’m trying to get him to turn around.”

  “Turn around? Well, Miss Mattie, I’d have to, ah, think real hard about that. He deserves the right punishment is the way I see it.”

  After everyone left, Mr. O’Brien, the preacher, called Mattie. He wanted to know how Mattie was holding up after the kidnapping; would she press charges, and what could he do? Mattie told him there wasn’t a kidnapping, there wasn’t a thing he could do, but if he wanted to come around one day during the week she’d fix him a little something to eat and talk about it. She might feel like talking to him about it. Or maybe he could come to the yard sale at Pearl’s on Saturday. She had a pretty busy week in front of her with the canning she needed to do, along with getting ready for the yard sale.

  Mr. O’Brien said he might do that, but if she needed him before then to be sure to call. Then he said a short prayer over the phone.

  Mattie liked Mr. O’Brien all right, but not as much as the former preacher, Mr. Bass. Mr. Bass would come in your house, sit for a while, stand up, walk into the kitchen and go in your refrigerator without asking. And you wouldn’t hold it against him one bit.

  At 9:30 Mattie sat down at the piano and played “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” “This Is My Father’s World,” “There Is a Fountain,” and “To a Wild Rose.” She stood, sat back down, played and sang “Shall We Gather at the River,” then “Victory in Jesus.”

  Sitting at her dresser, she squirted Jergens lotion onto her hands, rubbed them together. She noticed for the first time in a long time how her fingers were bent, the little ones mainly. She tried to straighten one. It looks like they would hurt, she thought, but they don’t. She thought about Wesley. He was better off because of her. One reason Jesus wanted you to minister to those kind was that you couldn’t lose. Next, she rubbed Pond’s onto her hands and then onto her face while she looked into the mirror. She pictured Wesley back inside the RC. He might tell somebody that he stayed with his grandma over the weekend, that he ate Sunday dinner with her.

  Why in the world were her own children so reluctant to get married? What had she done wrong? Should she have taken them to movies showing people in love, happy marria
ges and all that? All this psychology. Well, there was no need to think about it. She’d done all right. They were good children. Never been in any trouble. They had jobs. She’d done all she could in keeping them clothed and fed and mothered, and she’d kept a husband clothed and fed, and sometimes mothered. She’d done a good job with all three.

  She finished rubbing the Pond’s onto her face. Tomorrow she’d have to start a week of collecting things from around the house for Saturday’s yard sale. Or at least making some decisions about what she was going to have to take, take in Lamar’s truck. She needed to call him. It was late, she’d call him tomorrow.

  As Mattie was drifting off to sleep, the phone rang. It was Elaine.

  “What in the world happened, Mother? Alora called and said there’d been a raid and I don’t know what all—with this criminal in the house.”

  “There won’t no raid. It was just a mess, a sort of a mess, with the nephew of the dogcatcher. Didn’t you meet him? Saturday?”

  “Oh, yes. I met him. Do you need me to come by?”

  “No, everything’s fine.”

  “Alora said they might charge you with aiding and abetting a criminal. She said he was an escaped convict.”

  “No, he’s just from down the road at the RC. You knew that.”

  “Well, I’ll come by Tuesday. Does Robert know?”

  “He was here. Brought a young woman with him, but we didn’t get much of a chance to talk. I wish you could have met her. She was real nice.”

  “Maybe I’ll get a chance. Look, I’ll come by Tuesday. I want to hear all about what happened.”

  “Okay. You come on. You can help me decide what of yours to take to the yard sale Saturday.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  “Bye.”

  The phone rang again. It was Carrie. “Did he do anything to you, Mattie?”