by Glen Krisch
"I guess I won't drop by his room, then. It would be hard on him knowing he'd have to turn it down for the sake of his health." He left for the next name on the invite list.
Returning to the truck, he had to admit to himself that a stronger reason kept him from inviting Jasper Cartright. He simply couldn't bear to face a man who had always been a model of vitality relegated to a sick bed. He finished the loop through town, feeling confident in his improving driving skills, crossing off the names as he went. He didn't find Dr. Thompson in his office and assumed he was either caring for Jasper Cartwright or off on some other house call. He made a mental note to double back to Thompson's office as long as it didn't get too late.
So, only Cooper's name remained. His mom had been selective in who she invited. She had omitted Louise's parents. They wouldn't accept even if they were invited, so it was no skin off his nose. Plenty of other people from town weren't on the list, people who they didn't associate with. Hank Calder was too abrasive to have a good time at a potluck, while his daughter Thea was a complete snoot. But the absence of Greta's name bothered him the most. He checked his pocket watch. Since he was making good time, he headed to her tree house.
"Mom sent me out to invite people to a potluck this coming Saturday."
"But you came here." Greta didn't have any of her famous cornbread awaiting his arrival. She seemed surprised to see him.
"Of course, to invite you and Arlen."
"But your mom didn't ask you to invite me, did she?"
Jacob felt panicky. Could he tell her without hurting her? "Uh, no. I suppose not."
"I appreciate you coming here, Jacob. Most times people forget about Arlen and me, which most times is for the best. Sometimes it feels like people come over, hear whatever I have to tell them, then disappear until the next time they need to hear about my visions."
"I don't do that."
"Oh, I wasn't talking about you. You or your brother, or most the other kids in town. It's the adults who can live without me until they're desperate enough to climb those steps to knock on my door."
"Will you come?"
"I bet you thought it would be a good idea if I should just show up, maybe have your mom and me talk, is that it?"
"Well, if I talk to her about you coming, maybe she'll change her mind. I bet it was just a mistake, leaving you off the list."
"It wasn't no accident, Jacob. You're mom's no fool. Even if you asked and she changed her mind, she wouldn't want me to show. She doesn't want discussing of things when she's not ready to listen. No, it's better off. Next week you come by and we'll talk about what a nice time everyone had."
During the drive to Cooper's house, Jacob was angry with his mom. He wanted Greta at the potluck. More importantly, he wanted Greta and his mom forced in a situation where they might talk. Even Arlen could be entertaining at times, that is, for him being a nitwit bastard and all. Jacob was in such a foul mood he barely enjoyed the bumpy trip on the lightly-traveled dirt road to Cooper's.
He walked up to Cooper's wrap around porch. After repeatedly knocking on the door for more than minute, Jacob was ready to give up. Cooper was probably just not home. But Jacob wanted him at the party. It would be his first opportunity to be around him since that day at Greta's. The first time he could observe him and figure out his role in finding Jimmy.
Jacob was halfway back to the truck, resigned to having missed out on seeing Cooper, when the front door opened.
"Yes?" Cooper said, poking his head outside. At first sight, he appeared to have aged twenty years. When he noticed Jacob, he opened the door and stepped out, closing it before a single ray of sunlight could warm the floor inside. He brushed the white plaster dust from his clothes and hair, just now realizing how dirty he was. With most of the dust shaken off, his age reverted to normal.
"Hi, Coop. I was just stopping by to invite you to a potluck at our house."
Cooper blinked, as if just opening his eyes from a long slumber. "Potluck?"
"Sure. Everyone brings a dish, kinda like a big picnic."
"Okay."
Jacob waited further questioning, but Cooper simply stared at him vaguely, and seemed distracted. He glanced over his shoulder at a front window, but for just a second.
Jacob looked to where Cooper's gaze had fallen, and he would've sworn he saw movement coming from inside. Someone stepping out of sight, maybe, behind the sheer curtain. Or it could've been a breeze billowing the lightweight material.
But those windows are painted closed, Jacob thought, curious.
Cooper put a hand to his mouth and let out a harsh cough. "Sorry, I'm replastering the hallway leading upstairs."
Jacob turned from the window, drawn away from further wondering. Once again Cooper was quiet but impatient, and Jacob remembered why he was here. "It's this coming Saturday, at noon. It'll be fun."
"Okay. I'll be there." Cooper nodded then moved to shut the door. He looked up, as if something had just crossed his mind. "Beans."
"Beans?"
"Tell your mom I'll bring a pot of baked beans. I have a family recipe." He nodded once again and closed the door, leaving Jacob standing alone.
His thoughts returned to the shifting movement from the corner of his eye and Cooper's odd behavior. The only explanation that came to mind was Ellie's fear of ghosts wandering the halls of Cooper's house. The Reverend and Mrs. Blankenship. He gave the house one last glance, but it was as still as a photograph. Realizing how ridiculous he was for even considering the idea, he climbed inside the truck and headed home.
12.
Dr. Thompson was the first person to arrive the day of the potluck. During the week, Jacob's mom had run into the doctor while finishing up last second errands for the get together. He had almost begged off coming--what with the health of a few of his patients a concern of his--but his mom could be quite persuasive. By the time he pulled up in his Packard, the last of the damp morning fog had burned away, and it looked like it would be a fine day for the festivities. For his contribution to the potluck, the doctor brought along a crateful of homemade mulberry wine, his specialty.
"A little early in the day for this, I suppose," Thompson said to his mom.
"Nonsense." She stood at the cook stove stirring spices from her garden into a pot of boiling water. On the counter next to her were piles of cut vegetables and early potatoes. A freshly plucked chicken was in a baking pan on the kitchen table. "The glasses are in the cupboard next to the icebox. We're here to enjoy ourselves," his mom said, then turned to Jacob. "Can you bring in another armful of wood for the stove? I don't want to run short with everything that'll need warming."
His mom had run Jacob ragged with chores for today. He was tired, but it was his price to pay for all the wonderful food.
He went to the lean-to just outside the backdoor where they stored the stovelengths. Loading his arms with what he hoped would be more than enough fuel, he heard approaching voices. Girls' voices. He had little time to react when, quite suddenly, Louise and Mary Wilmot appeared from around the corner of the house. Just that quickly, Jacob was stuck facing Mary Wilmot. Louise didn't seem to notice him, not if her dour, preoccupied expression was any indication, but Mary's eyes seemed to brighten when she noticed Jacob standing by the door. He was trapped.
He didn't know how it happened, but the logs tumbled from his arms. There they were, at his feet, and he hadn't even moved to cause them to fall. He felt like running off to hide.
"Cripes," he grumbled, bending over to pick them up. He could feel his ears flaring red.
He expected the girls to laugh at him, but they kept quiet. But then the world seemed to shift beneath him. His stomach flipped and he felt a sudden pang of anger toward Jimmy for not being here to protect him.
Mary hurried over to his side and kneeled right alongside him. "Let me help you."
Jacob stood and placed a single log across his forearms, his palms facing the sky. Mary went about stacking the rest of the stovelengths in his arms
. Louise stood nearby impatiently tapping a foot. Jacob's mind began to cloud, his reasoning cogs grinding to a halt. He didn't know what to do. As Mary bent over, her blonde braids fell forward, carrying along a clean and flowery smell. He came close to dropping the growing stack again.
Mary grabbed the last spindly log. When she stood to place it atop the pile, the stack was nearly to his chin. This older girl he hardly knew--who liked him, but who didn't know he knew--was shorter than him. The crown of her head reached the bridge of his nose, and when he looked down the slight difference in their heights, all he could do was offer a silly grin.
Louise, growing more annoyed with the passing seconds, cleared her throat.
It was like a spell was broken. Jacob, still smiling, turned to the door, but was unable to open it with his arms full.
"Uh, Mary?"
"Yes, Jacob?"
"Can you get the door for me?"
Mary stifled a giggle by pressing a hand to her lips, and then reached over and pushed the door open for him. Jacob went inside, feeling safe within the comfortable smells of the kitchen, away from this girl who made him act like he didn't have a lick of sense.
In no time, everyone else showed up. They all seemed to come in one burgeoning wave. Thompson's mulberry wine filled glass after glass. Other spirits joined the wine--harsh spirits as clear as spring water. The house was all abluster with people exchanging hellos while unwrapping dishes from wax paper or old newspapers. Dishes waited in line for the warmth of the stove or were stacked high inside the ice box. With the heat of the stove, his mom had asked him to open all of the windows. He couldn't help looking out every once in a while, searching and expectant.
For the first time since his disappearance, Jimmy seemed faraway. This made Jacob feel guilty as all get out, but he couldn't help it. He also couldn't help watching Mary flit about the yard as she kept an eye on the children brought along by the neighboring adults. A dozen kids, from barely walking, to a few years younger than Mary, were chasing each other, crying out in laughter and full of merriment. He realized the oldest kids were close to his own age. If they were so carefree and as riotous as any group of kids, why was he so preoccupied with Mary, a girl he didn't even know?
Every time Mary would look toward the window--her tousled blonde hair pulling loose from her braids by the children climbing on her--his question was answered. She was laughing and ebullient. Every time they shared a glance, his chest pulsed with heat and he would break eye contact with her. He still didn't know how to handle this situation. God, he missed Jimmy. He would put everything right.
"We're all done setting up." His mom's voice startled him. He stammered defensively, but she motioned him silent. "We just need to finish up with the food. Why don't you have some fun?"
Next, his mom would say something about Mary Wilmot, and without a doubt this something would be embarrassing. So many people were mingling in the kitchen; Mrs. Nightingale, the town's worst gossip, Miss Sinclair, his grade school teacher, the Nagys enjoying glasses of mulberry wine with their six kids out of their hair outside, and still others all becoming one blurring mass. Jacob felt like jumping through the window to safety.
Before she could get a word out, the front door opened and the Banyon's entered. The crowd swept them in, the women doting on Ellie, commenting on what a pretty dress she wore. Mr. Banyon motioned Jacob over to him.
"Boy, can you lend me a hand out at the wagon?"
Gratefully, he escaped outside, following Mr. Banyon to his mule-drawn wagon. He half-expected to find bottles of liquor in the wagon bed. He'd forgotten about the oak hutch.
Mr. Banyon had wrapped it in old blankets to secure it for the ride over. "Careful now. That's a five-coat finish, and the best I've done so far, if I do say so myself." Mr. Banyon stepped into the bed and slid the hutch to the edge where Jacob waited. It was heavy as blazes getting it off the wagon and through the front door, but hearing the townsfolk's appreciative cries as they set the piece down made it worth the effort.
His mom didn't say anything, at least nothing Jacob could hear. Once Mr. Banyon pulled the blankets away to show off the hutch's golden finish, he explained the whats and the whys of his gift. She hugged him. As they embraced, it looked like she was crying on his shoulder, but then Jacob could tell that she was whispering into his ear, giving him her thanks. Just like that, the townsfolk accepted Charles Banyon back into their fold, and just as quickly, acted as if his years of foolishness had never happened. Cash flowed at a mere trickle within the town of Coal Hollow, but within an hour, half a dozen people solicited his carpentry skills.
With Ellie happy about the drastic change in her father, and the rest of Coal Hollow setting aside their previous impressions of Mr. Banyon, Jacob decided he would withhold his judgment.
13.
Jacob lounged under the canopy of a tall shade tree a ways off from the house after finishing his second supper. The Fowler's house was modest, built for efficiency rather than large gatherings, so three makeshift tables had been set up outside to showcase the day's bounty. The white and red checked tablecloths snapped in the wind. People came, loaded plates, idling like grazing animals.
Just now feeling like he could move without bursting a gut seam, he couldn't remember a day when he'd eaten more. Fried chicken, lemony-seasoned catfish, roasted potatoes drowned in sweet butter, two slices of tart rhubarb pie, a slice of his mom's peach cobbler, cucumber salad with vinegar dressing, and more side dishes than he could count. Mrs. Nightingale brought along her cornbread, and though widely considered her best dish, Jacob didn't even give it a sniff out of deference for Greta. He had nothing against Mrs. Nightingale, and anyway, he was certain no one would notice his silent protest.
Raucous laughter shook the house. The wine had flowed since noon, and now it was getting on to evening with the sun falling from its highest point. Mr. Hauser had started to play his fiddle--his enthusiasm for the instrument far outweighing any natural ability. Even so, people were stomping their feet to the beat and clapping along. Jacob could see heads bouncing, hair lank with sweat, as people danced passed the open windows.
The kids stayed outside. Some reclined while recovering from too much food, others were tumbling and stumbling their way across the yard, working off their energies chasing one another.
A group of older girls had gathered around Louise, while children under their care played at their feet. Despite her discomfort, Louise seemed to enjoy the attention. She only needed to intimate a need--more cucumber salad, a cool cloth to place on the back of her neck--and one of her attendants would see to it. She had become a local celebrity of a sort. She was an anomaly. A young, unmarried pregnant woman not living with her family or future spouse. Even so, she had been welcomed to her neighbors' bosom. His mom had been right all along.
Three boys were playing a game of marbles in a dirt patch near the barn. Others were splashing in the creek out past their stand of peach trees. From the sound of it, they were hounding bullfrogs out from under the grassy overhang lining the steep shoreline.
Jacob was content right where he was. Everyone seemed so happy, but to him, it felt hollow. He couldn't go along with it any longer; from now on, he would stay out of it. Day in day out he had to nod and agree with his mom about Jimmy's whereabouts. It pained him to celebrate today when his brother was somewhere close. He wished he could switch places with him, no matter where he was or what was happening to him.
Slumping lower at the base of the tree, comfortable and full, drowsiness nearly overtook him. But then he saw Mary Wilmot walking in his direction. Yet a ways away, her delicate hands toyed with a blade of grass. She was alone, and no one else was near Jacob. He was her intended target, he realized. Her intended.
Before she could get too close, he quickly stood and returned to the house. He nodded in her direction without looking, kept walking, his heart beating faster. At the back door, Cooper was leaning against the frame, sipping iced tea.
"That was a c
lose one." Cooper's eyes were clear and contemplative. He seemed to be one of the few sober adults.
"Yeah. I guess."
"Seems like a nice girl."
Jacob didn't say anything. Mary returned to the group of girls. Ellie and a group of the younger ones were playing tiddly winks. Mary looked disappointed at his hasty retreat, but not overly so. Louise sat on a tree stump, rubbing her belly and looking uncomfortable. Mary briefly chatted with her before they turned their attentions to the children playing in the grass.
"My advice, girls are confusing, at any age. Keep a hold of your wits, or one is liable to take possession of them."
Jacob didn't want to talk about Mary, or about girls in general. Not with Cooper. He didn't want to go inside either. As if on cue, his mom let off a loud peal of laughter, and now he certainly didn't want to go inside. He considered returning to the shade tree, but thought better of it.
Cooper took a long drink of iced tea. The melting ice chips clinked as he drained it.
Jacob saw an opportunity and went for it. Maybe he didn't need to leave home to learn about Cooper's role in Jimmy's discovery. The man was standing right in front of him. "Want another?"
Cooper nodded, handing the empty glass to the boy.
As Jacob entered the house, his mother stepped out, her cheeks flushed crimson, the remains of laughter perking the corner of her lips.
"Why, hello, Mr. Cooper."
"Oh, hi, Jane. Nice day. Great food."
"Thanks. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. I just needed some fresh air." She blew a stray strand of hair from her eyes. Her hands were on her hips as she scanned the children carousing across the yard. Seeing her so carefree and relaxed, Cooper could see a glimpse of the girl she was before the responsibilities of adulthood stole the last of her childhood.
A roar of laughter came from inside as the music stopped. Too-loud voices engaging in several conversations at once filled the silence.