THE HOMEPLACE

by Gilbert, Morris

  “That’s just the way it is. We’ve got to work and make a hundred dollars a month in addition to what it takes to live on.” Lanie had told her siblings the whole story, and now she said briskly, “And I have to tell you something else. I’m not going back to school. I’m going to stay home and take care of Corliss and the house—and try to think of some ways to make more money. We’ve got maybe four months, and by that time we have to find a way to make the payment.”

  Cody stared at her and swallowed hard. “I . . . I don’t think we can do it.”

  Maeva stood up and glared at him. “Sure we can do it! I ain’t afraid.”

  Lanie put her arm around Maeva. “You’re a tough egg, Maeva, and I think that’s what we’re going to need from here on out.”

  C H A P T E R 16

  As Lanie walked toward the courthouse, the sights and smells of spring surrounded her. The birds had come back from wherever they had been, and their morning twitter and clatter, their shrill cries and whistles came to her as she made her way along the streets. The crabapple trees in many yards flung out pink and white flowers toward the sun, and the hawthornes and the wild haw trees put little white flowers out beside their brittle thorns and sent a sweet scent with the wind.

  The chill of winter had faded from the earth, but the Depression that gripped America with an iron grasp seemed even worse. Leaving school had brought an ache to Lanie’s breast that no one knew about. She made light of it, but more than once at night she cried herself to sleep, for she loved learning and school itself. But the note payment hung over the family like a dark cloud. They had just enough money to make two more payments and then, despite cutting every expense and all of their efforts to make money at odd jobs, a shadow larger than a mountain loomed over them.

  All of them had tried to make extra money selling eggs, chopping wood, cleaning up at the Sentinel. But in Fairhope, two stores had already closed their doors, and men were out of work, so there was little opportunity for children to make money.

  Lanie reached the courthouse steps, nodded and spoke to Billy Henderson, the county clerk who went to her church, then entered the building. She had been here only twice before, both times with her father. It was an old building and smelled of old wood and paper and sweat and perfume. She turned down the hallway and went to an office at the end of the hall. Stepping inside, she saw Fred Stevenson bent over a desk writing something. “Hello, Mr. Stevenson.”

  “Hello, Lanie.” Mr. Stevenson was a tall, lanky man with an engaging grin. He had two children about Lanie’s age, and she asked about them, and he answered. Then she said, “I’ve got to have a driver’s license, Mr. Stevenson.”

  Stevenson blinked with surprise. “Well, you have to be sixteen, Lanie.”

  “I’m sixteen years old today. March thirteenth.”

  “It’s your birthday?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Fred ran his hands through his hair. “I think you still need an adult to vouch for you if you’re not twenty-one.”

  “Just any adult?”

  “Well, it’s usually somebody in your family, but in your case somebody from church might do. The pastor maybe. Here’s the form.” Fred opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Just have him sign it at the bottom, then bring it back here.” He hesitated. “Can you drive? You have to pass a driver’s test and a written test too.”

  “I can drive,” Lanie said.

  Dr. Oscar Givens stared over his spectacles at his young colleague. The fact that he had to delegate much of his work to Dr. Owen Merritt was a hard pill for the old man to swallow. He had handled the health of his patients in Fairhope for years without help, and it galled him that he could not do what he once could.

  “Did you go by and see Harriett Rumpler?”

  “Sure did, Doctor. Nothing serious, just gas,” Owen said cheerfully. He sat opposite the older man, his fingers laced behind his head, smiling. At first Doc Givens had been critical of everything he did, and at night he insisted on going over the history of every patient that Merritt treated. Merritt survived, however, and learned to respect Givens in the process. His elder was not up on the modern techniques, which could not be expected, but underneath his crusty exterior was a deep love for the people he treated. Merritt answered Givens’ questions and finally, when the old man ran down, he said, “Something interesting from England. A fellow named Alexander Fleming.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “He’s a doctor at Saint Mary’s Hospital in London. He developed something called penicillin. According to all I hear it’s pretty much a miracle drug. It destroys the staphylococci. You know what that would mean, Doctor. Why, we’d save lots of patients if we could kill off those varmints.”

  “They’re always coming up with some miracle drug. I don’t believe a word of it until I try it myself.”

  “I think it’s going to work. Fleming has a good reputation. I just wish we had a stock of that new penicillin right now.”

  It aggravated Givens that his assistant had time to read a great deal about new developments. He himself relied on the old tried-and-true methods.

  “Something else. There’s a doctor at Harvard named Levine. He did a study and found out that sixty out of a hundred and forty-five heart attack patients have high blood pressure.”

  “And the others who died don’t have high blood pressure. You can make statistics say anything you want to.”

  “I don’t know, Dr. Givens. I’ve noticed that people with high blood pressure seem to have more heart trouble than others. Something to think about.”

  The door opened, and Nurse Pickens stuck her head inside. “Lanie Freeman’s here. Do you want to see her?”

  “Sure, Bertha, send her in.” Merritt got up, but the old man, favoring his leg, kept his seat. Lately he managed to come to the office and work half days, though his injury prevented him from making outside calls.

  “Hello, Lanie,” Merritt said. “Are you sick? Some of your family maybe?”

  “No, sir, we’re all fine, but I’ve got to get a driver’s license, and Mr.

  Stevenson says an adult has to sign my application. I was wondering if you would sign for me.”

  “Why, I sure would. You got it with you?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s right here.”

  Givens watched as Merritt took the paper and signed it. “How’s that baby sister of yours doin’? She getting over the croup?”

  “Oh, yes, Dr. Givens. She’s fine. We’re all doing real well.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. You hear from your daddy pretty often?”

  “Yes, sir, and I’m going to visit him. That’s why I need a driver’s license.”

  “You going to drive all the way down to Cummings? That’s a long drive,” Merritt said. He held the paper a minute and said, “What kind of car does your daddy have?”

  “It’s a Model T.”

  “You know that’s a long trip for a young woman. The car might break down.”

  “I’ve got to go, Doctor. They won’t let prisoners have any visitors for the first three months. That was up the day before yesterday. I’ve just got to go.”

  Merritt reached into his pocket, pulled out his billfold, and took out a bill. “Going to be expensive. You’ll probably have to stay all night in a hotel there, and then there’s gas. Maybe this will help.”

  Lanie stared at the bill and shook her head. “I couldn’t take it, but thank you.”

  “Don’t be foolish.” Reaching out, he took Lanie’s hand, opened it, put the bill inside, and then closed her fingers. He winked at her. “You can cut my grass if I ever get any grass to cut. When you come back, stop by and tell me about your visit.”

  Maeva surprised Lanie after supper when she said, “We’re gonna have a party.”

  “A birthday party!” Cody grinned. “Davis and me are gonna make ice cream, and Maeva made a cake.”

  “And Annie’s coming. She said she’d bring something to eat too.”

  “I’d
hate to eat anything she cooked, dirty as she is!” Maeva sniffed. “Might poison me.”

  “Don’t you say a word,” Davis warned. “She’ll do the best she can.”

  Annie arrived thirty minutes later, and she received a big welcome. Maeva whispered, “Why, I think she’s even had a bath and washed her dress!”

  Annie did look somewhat better, at least cleaner. She had brought a paper sack full of oatmeal cookies, and Lanie made over them a great deal. “These are the best cookies I’ve ever had in my life!”

  Annie offered a rare smile at that. “My ma taught me how to cook.”

  “I got my license today, and I’m going to see Daddy tomorrow, Annie,” Lanie said. “I’ll take him some of your cookies.”

  Annie stared at Lanie, then said, “Tell the poor feller I feel for ’im.”

  “I’ll tell him.” Lanie winked at Annie. “You keep an eye on this bunch while I’m gone. No telling what they might get into without me here to watch them!”

  Maeva stared at her, then laughed. “I reckon we’ll be fine. And you tell Daddy the next time we’re all comin’ to see him!”

  The next morning, when Lanie walked out of the house, Sheriff Jessup was sitting in a cane-bottomed chair on the front porch. He was wearing his uniform and looked roughly handsome. “Why, hello, Sheriff. What are you doing here?”

  “The doc and I figure you might need a mechanic along. I’m gettin’ tired of workin’ so I thought I’d take the day off.”

  Relief washed over Lanie. “That would be nice. I wouldn’t know how to fix the car if it quit.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m for. Besides that, it won’t hurt to have a little official push to get you in to see your daddy. Come on. Let’s get started.”

  The Cummings Prison Farm was not at all impressive. Set in the middle of flat Arkansas delta land, the prison consisted of long buildings that looked like barracks surrounded by barbed wire fences.

  At the entrance, a fat officer with small, piggish eyes glared at Lanie.

  “You’re supposed to write and get a permit to see an inmate.”

  “I didn’t know that, but I need to see my daddy.”

  “You got to have a permit.”

  Pardue stood behind Lanie. “Reckon I’d better talk to Warden Gladden about this.”

  “You know the warden?”

  “Oh, yeah. Me and him’s old buddies. We used to hunt together in the hills just outside of Jasper where we grew up.”

  “Well, you can ask him. I can’t let you in without a permit.”

  “Where’s his office?”

  “Right down that hall.”

  “Come along, Lanie. We’ll go get us that permit.”

  Warden Potter Gladden was happy enough to see his old friend. He was a tall, rangy man with clear blue eyes and a ready smile. “Glad to see you again, buddy. How about stayin’ over for a few days, and we’ll go out and get us a couple of bucks.”

  “Reckon I’ll have to come back for that, Potter, but this little lady here needs a permit. She didn’t know you had to write ahead. I’d appreciate it if you could help her out.”

  “Nothin’ easier. Who is your daddy?”

  “Forrest Freeman, sir.”

  “Oh, yes. He’s doin’ well.” Gladden got a paper, scribbled on it, and handed it to her.

  “Warden, could I sometimes bring my brothers and sisters so Daddy could see all of us?”

  “Well, it ain’t regulation, but seeing as you’re a friend of this ugly galoot here, I guess I’ll have to say yes.”

  “Thanks a lot, Potter,” Pardue said. “I appreciate it. I’ll come back next time and we’ll get them bucks.”

  Pardue and Lanie walked down the hall and gave the paper to the fat guard, who shrugged. “I’ll bring him in. You can wait in there. Coffee, if you want it, over on the table.”

  Lanie grew nervous as she waited. She was somehow frightened too. Pardue realized she was tense. “I’ll just stay long enough to say hello to your daddy, and then I’ll let you two visit.”

  Ten minutes later Forrest walked in. He wore a faded khaki uniform of sorts and had evidently been working, for his hands were grimy and he was covered with sweat. As soon as he stepped inside, Lanie flew to him. “Daddy!” She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely.

  “Lanie, you look so good to me!” Forrest said, kissing the top of her head. He looked up and said, “Pardue, did you bring Lanie down?”

  “She’s got her own license now, Forrest, but I thought that car might need a little work on the way so I come along for the ride. Good to see you.” He put out his hand. “I just wanted to say hello. The warden’s a good friend of mine. He treatin’ you right?”

  Forrest shook hands with Pardue. “All right.”

  “Good. Look, I’m going to be outside. You stay as long as you want, Lanie. I’ll see you next time, Forrest.”

  “Thanks, Pardue.”

  Lanie could not take her eyes off her father. She had not known how much she missed him, and now she ached, somehow, with love for him. Tears stung her eyes, for he looked worn and tired, not at all like himself. “I brought a bunch of things, Daddy. They’re in the boxes.” She flew to the door and said, “Sheriff, would you bring the boxes in?”

  “Sure will, honey!”

  Ten minutes later Lanie was unloading the treasures—cakes, cookies, and shelled pecans. “This shaving stuff is from Mr. Pink, and here’s a box from Harry Oz.”

  “This is all good. I’ve missed your cookin’, honey.”

  “Look, I got these pictures. Mr. Jinks took them with his camera.”

  Forrest grabbed at the pictures and fastened his eyes on them. “Look at Corliss, she’s a beauty! So fat and pretty . . . and look at the boys. They’re gettin’ so big! It seems like I haven’t seen ’em in a year.”

  Lanie bent over the pictures with her father and saw how he devoured them. She sat close to him, and he put his arm around her as he shuffled the pictures around on the table. They talked about each one for a long time, and finally he said, “Tell me all that’s going on, honey. Everything.”

  Lanie had worried about this. She did not want her father to know how serious things were. She had practiced a speech, and she spent a great deal of time telling him of inconsequential details. She had already told him about selling the logging equipment to pay off most of the note at the bank.

  “I hate that you had to drop out of school.”

  “Oh, that’s all right, Daddy. I’m studying a lot at home now. I really think I’m learning more at home than I did at school. I don’t mind.”

  “It’s not right, sweetheart,” Forrest said, and a gloom descended upon him. His arm was around her, and he squeezed her. “I’d give anything if you could go back to school. If I could just be there to take care of you and the others.”

  “You will one day, Daddy. You wait and see.”

  “You really believe that, Lanie?”

  “Yes. All of us pray every night, and the church prays, too, that somehow you’ll get out of this place.”

  “It doesn’t seem likely, but I’m glad you’re prayin’ for that.”

  Lanie felt they’d been talking for only a few minutes when Pardue came in and said, “They tell me it’s time to go, Lanie.”

  Lanie hugged her father. His arms came around her, and he bent over to kiss her. She held his head, put her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear. “Don’t give up hope, Daddy. God will open the door to this place one day, and you’ll just walk out of here and come home to all of us.” She kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll be back soon, and the warden says I can bring the other kids too. We’ll have a party.”

  Forrest Freeman had never wanted to cry so much in his life. He knew the sacrifices Lanie had made, so he made himself smile and wave as they walked away. “I’ll look forward to that. You drive careful. Thanks again, Pardue.”

  Alone in the room, a sense of hopelessness overcame Forrest. Still, the words of L
anie were fixed in his mind. One day you’ll walk out and come home to all of us. He straightened his shoulders and breathed a quick prayer.

  C H A P T E R 17

  Lanie stared at the bank book in dismay. The balance was practically at rock bottom. They had not had enough money to make the last payment, and Miss Effie allowed them to pay just the interest, but that could not go on forever.

  Leaning back in her chair, Lanie closed her eyes. She could hear Cap’n Brown purring, for he had come to perch on the table next to her Big Chief notebook. He sounded as if he had a tiny motor running inside, and Lanie felt a touch of envy. “I wish I didn’t have any more worries than you have, Cap’n Brown.”

  The sun shone through the windows this quiet Saturday morning. She and Corliss had the house to themselves. The other three Freemans had gone out to try to make a few dollars. Beau lay facing the wall, for Lanie had hurt his feelings by speaking sharply to him. “You’re the only dog I ever knew that had touchy feelings, Beau.” Beau turned to face her and somehow managed to look reproachful. He sniffed once and then turned back to face the wall.

  Steps sounded on the front porch and the door banged. Maeva never allowed a door to close softly, but seemed to delight in the banging. Her eyes were alive with excitement when she came into the kitchen. The sun glinted on her red hair. “Look what I got here! I got seven dollars, and I made it all this mornin’!”

  Lanie reached out and took the bills. They were old and crumpled, but they would spend. “Seven dollars in one morning! How’d you do it, Maeva?”

  Maeva pranced around the kitchen. She patted Beau on the head, and he got up and reared up on her. She stepped on his toes. “Get off of me, Beau, you’re too big and heavy!” Beau at once resumed his position staring at the wall. “I found a way to make some money that nobody ever thought of.”

  “What is it?”

  “Nobody thinks much about old bottles—but I did. I went around town, collected them from the alleys, and most people throw ’em out around their houses. I got a whole wagonful, then I sold ’em to Old Man Jenkins.”