THE HOMEPLACE

by Gilbert, Morris

  Up until this time no other woman had stirred Owen Merritt as this one did. She was rich in a way that a woman should be rich, at times gay and reckless, but at other times with the deep, mysterious glow of a softer mood. “You know, Louise,” he whispered, pulling her close so that his face was only inches away from hers, “you’re like that music we heard tonight. Makes a man feel strong enough to whip the world.”

  Louise knew she was beautiful, and she knew she was a picture framed before his hungry glance. At that instant the heat of something rash and timeless and thoughtless touched her, and she knew with certainty that it touched him also. He embraced her and she did not resist, for she gloried in this power she had to stir him, to deepen his hungers and the sense of loneliness she saw in him.

  The two stood there for a long time, and she waited until she understood that she must make the first move. With her hands pressed against his neck, she asked, “Do you care for me at all, Owen?”

  “You know I do.”

  His words encouraged her, and she said, “I care for you too.”

  A silence grew between them, and he said, “I can’t let myself care for you too much, Louise.”

  “Why not?” she cried. “Why not, Owen?”

  “Because I’m a poor man, and you’re used to better things than I can give you.”

  “Oh, Owen,” Louise whispered, “that doesn’t matter!” She kissed him again and then shook her head slightly. Her eyes were large and luminous. “If two people love each other, they can make a life. And money and things like that don’t matter.”

  “I always thought they did,” Owen said. “I think it’s a serious thing to take someone into your life forever, or at least for a lifetime.”

  “Is that what you want to do, Owen?”

  Louise waited for his reply, and when it came, he spoke urgently. “I do care for you, but I’ve been afraid to let myself say anything.”

  “Say it, Owen! Say whatever you wish.”

  “All right then, I will,” Owen had an impulse then, and although he had not planned to do this thing, he said, “I’d like for you to be my wife, Louise. I’d like to care for you.”

  “Owen!” she cried, and her lips were tremulous. “Do you mean it?”

  “Yes, of course I mean it. A man doesn’t joke about things like that. But, Louise, it will have to be a long engagement, a very long engagement. I’ll have to establish myself.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I’ll help you. Daddy will help you. You can do anything, Owen. I’ve always known that.”

  Owen felt surrounded by her beauty and by her excitement. The future seemed a long way off, but he had taken the first step, and now he knew that it was the sort of step a man takes and cannot turn back on. He put that from his mind, and as she drew him over to the couch and they sat down together, he smiled at the excitement he saw in her as she began making plans.

  As Owen pulled into Doc Givens’ driveway, he saw with some surprise that Pardue Jessup’s car was parked in front of the house. “Hello, Pardue. You’re out pretty late.”

  “Need to talk with you, Doc.”

  “Why, sure. Come on inside.”

  Pardue shook his head. “No, I can’t stay. Got to go corral a bunch of drunks over at the Green Door.” The sheriff ’s face had a serious cast. “It’s about Forrest Freeman, Doc. I’ve got a tip that might mean something.”

  Owen straightened. “What about Forrest?”

  “Well, I got a call from Birdie Pickett, the deputy over at Blakely. We’re fishing partners, and I’ve done him a good turn once or twice. He told me he picked up Alvin Biggins.”

  “On what charge?”

  “Oh, drunk and disorderly—nothin’ serious. But he said that Alvin was drunk as Cooter Brown when he put him in the cell. Birdie got to talking to him, and Alvin got to braggin’ on how him and his brother Duke had put the run on Forrest.”

  “What exactly did he say, Pardue?”

  “Lots that didn’t mean anything—but mainly that him and Willie and Ethel wasn’t the only witnesses to the shooting.”

  “That’s just what we need!”

  “Maybe,” Pardue said cautiously. He rubbed his chin. “Alvin said there was a woman named Thelma Mays there. I know her, Doc. She’s really low rent!”

  “And she saw the shooting?”

  “Alvin talked like she did.”

  “Why didn’t Forrest ever mention her?”

  “Apparently she was in another room, but the door was open.”

  Owen felt deflated. “Then she might not have seen anything.”

  “That’s right—and Alvin could be lying about it all. But I thought it was worth looking into—so I did.” Pardue shifted his weight and chewed his lower lip. “I tried to locate the woman, but she’s flown the coop. Gone to California.”

  “What part of California?”

  “Someplace in Los Angeles. Might as well have gone to the moon.

  That’s a humongous big place. But I hear you gotta brother there?”

  “Yes, my brother Dave. He’s a policeman in L.A. I’ll see if he can find her. Do you have an address?”

  “Nope, nothing but a name. Way I got it she was going to work at some saloon called The Black Lily.”

  Owen took out his notebook and wrote down the information. “I’ll ask Dave to see if he can help with this.”

  “Hope it works out, Doc. Sure would like to see Forrest out of Cummings. Well, I got to go corral the drunks.”

  “Thanks, Pardue,” Owen said, and as Pardue drove away, he stared at the slip of paper, then muttered, “Think I’ll call Dave instead of writing. This might mean something!”

  As Lanie entered Stockwell’s General Store, she almost collided with a couple. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t—” And then she broke off for she saw that it was Owen Merritt and Louise Langley.

  “Why, hello, Lanie,” Louise said. The two stepped aside, and Louise said, “Come on in out of the cold.”

  Lanie saw that Louise was smiling and believed there was something of triumph in it.

  “I’m glad we’ve run into you, Lanie,” Owen said. “I wanted to ask how that gash Cody got in his knee is doing.”

  “Oh, it’s healing fine, Dr. Merritt.” Cody had run into a stob during one of the wild games he played with Max Jinks and laid his knee open in a wicked gash that required several stitches. “You’d never know anything was wrong.”

  “Well, I’d better drop by and take a look at it anyway. And how’s the rest of your family?”

  “We’re all right, Doctor, thank you.”

  “I’m glad we ran into you too, Lanie,” Louise said. Her eyes sparkled and the corners of her mouth turned upward. “I’m the happiest woman in the world. Can you guess why?”

  Suddenly Lanie knew exactly what made Louise Langley so happy. She glanced quickly toward Owen and saw that he was smiling mildly and watching Louise.

  “You can’t guess?” Louise said. “Well, I’m going to be married, and I’ll bet you can guess who the groom will be.”

  Lanie felt an emptiness grow inside her and a heaviness, but she managed to cover it. “Congratulations, Miss Langley, and to you, Doctor. I hope you’ll be very happy.”

  “Of course we will,” Louise said. “We were just made for each other. And we’ll want you to come to the wedding.”

  “Of course it’ll be quite a while,” Owen said quickly.

  “That’s what he says,” Louise grabbed his arm and held on possessively. “But it won’t be as long as he thinks.”

  Lanie could not think of a single thing to say, but she managed to murmur, “I’m sure you’ll both be very happy.”

  “Of course we will. Come along, Owen.”

  Lanie turned to watch them go, and as the door closed behind them, she felt that a door in her own life had closed.

  C H A P T E R 29

  For a moment Lanie paused outside Planter’s Bank. She stiffened against the cool March breeze and stared at t
he building, which had a blank, unadorned face except for the words “Planter’s Bank” etched into the marble. The impulse came to her to turn and run away, but she had fought that battle already. The payment was due, and there was not enough money to pay it, and that was that.

  Taking a deep breath, Lanie stepped inside. There were only three customers, and Lanie waited until the one seated at Cora Johnson’s desk got up and left. Cora smiled and motioned toward her and said, “Hello, Lanie, good to see you.”

  “Hello, Miss Johnson.”

  Cora caught the dead tone of the girl’s voice. “What’s the matter?” “I . . . I don’t have the money to make the payment on our place.” Cora nodded. “Come on in. We’ll talk to Effie about it. Maybe we can do something.”

  The two headed for Effie’s office. Cora tapped on the door and Lanie heard the older woman say, “Come in!”

  Effie Johnson was sitting at her desk going over papers. “Hello, Lanie.”

  “Effie, Lanie has a problem.”

  “We worked hard, Miss Johnson, but we just don’t have the money.

  We had some doctor bills this month, and it took nearly everything to pay for them and for the doctor and the medicine.”

  Effie carefully replaced the pen in its holder and folded her hands.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Lanie.”

  “We did our best, ma’am, we really did.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  Lanie could not help asking. “What’s going to happen? Are we going to lose our place?”

  “We’ll hope that won’t happen. Try not to worry about it, Lanie. The board is meeting this week. I’ll make a special plea for you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I know you’ve always tried your best to help us.”

  “It’s a heavy burden for a young girl like you.” Effie got up and walked around the desk. She came and stood directly in front of Lanie. She put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and said quietly, “You run along home now. Try not to worry about it. Come by and see me tomorrow. Maybe I’ll have good news for you. I’ll do my best.”

  After Lanie left, Cora said, “Surely there’s something that can be done.”

  “I’m not optimistic, Cora. They’ve missed two payments now, and that’s all Otis Langley will want.”

  “But he’s not the whole board.”

  “The board’s been balanced, but one vote will sway it. I’ve got an idea that Otis has been putting pressure on our mayor.”

  “Mr. Delaughter’s a good man.”

  “He’s a good man, but his business has been going down, and he’s depending on help from the bank to make it. I’m pretty sure Otis has promised to help if he changes his vote.”

  Cora dropped her eyes. “I hope it doesn’t happen. Those children have tried so hard.”

  “We’ll just have to see, but as I said, I’m not very hopeful.”

  The sun coming through the window touched Lanie’s eyes, and she woke up. She felt groggy and listless, for she had slept little the previous night. Several times she had awakened, and the fear of losing the only home she had ever known gripped her. She prayed, but this time it seemed that prayer did little good.

  Throwing the covers back, she dressed swiftly and then lifted her eyes toward the calendar handed out by Brewton’s Funeral Home. The picture for March 1931 must have been reprinted a million times. Two small children were about to step off a broken bridge into a deep pit, while overhead a bright and shining angel was moving in to be sure they didn’t. When she was a very small girl, Lanie asked her mother if angels looked like that, and she remembered clearly how her mother had smiled and said, “Oh, I’m sure they’re much more impressive than that.”

  Her eyes fell on the number thirteen, which was heavily circled.

  “Today I am seventeen.”

  Lanie spoke the words aloud, and her voice seemed to reverberate in the silence of the room. The whole house seemed to be silent. Lanie sat on the chair in front of the dresser and looked into the small mirror. She studied the face that she saw every day and whispered, “Well, so you’re seventeen years old. How does it feel?” She touched her cheeks and saw no trace of the child that had first looked into this mirror in this very room.

  I don’t feel any different. Seventeen is just like sixteen. The thought brushed against her mind. But sixteen is a child and seventeen is a woman. I’ve always thought that. She knew that she was somehow disappointed, for she had thought that the magical age of seventeen would mark the beginning of something wonderful, and yet she felt just the same, just as vulnerable, just as touched by fears and apprehensions as when she was sixteen.

  “You’re a foolish girl,” Lanie said aloud, “to think that one day would make any difference!” She got up abruptly and went downstairs and started the fire. While it caught and she pulled the elements of the breakfast together, she saw that the sun was no brighter and the trees were no more beautiful than they were yesterday. The world was just the same as it had always been—and she had to struggle against the fear that seemed to rise from deep within.

  Lanie pulled herself up straight. “I can’t let everybody see how scared I am,” she whispered. She walked to the foot of the stairs and called, “Everybody get up!” She heard the cries of protest but insisted, “Everybody up now! It’s time to get up!” She turned back and took out a frying pan and began scrambling eggs. She concentrated fully on not letting the others see any of her fears. She knew they suspected, but the possibility of losing the house had become an unapproachable topic. Her brother Davis said that when a pitcher was pitching what looked like a no-hitter, nobody would say so. It was a jinx. It couldn’t be touched. Everybody ignored it. That was the way their family had been about the payment at the bank for the past weeks. They did not mention it, but she could see the fear lurking in their eyes as it lurked in her own.

  “Well, I’m sure we all feel for the Freeman children,” Otis Langley said. “But business is business.”

  “I don’t see why we can’t give them a little more time, Otis,” Orrin Pierce said. “It’s not like the bank is going to go broke if they’re a few months late.”

  “Oh, come now, Orrin, you know better than that! If there were any chance at all for the Freemans to settle this debt, I’d be as anxious as the rest of you to give them more time. But their record is getting worse. It won’t be any better next month. It’ll be worse. This Depression is not going to go away.”

  Elspeth Patton sat at the table, her back upright. Her eyes were fixed on Otis. “Everyone else is afraid to mention it, but I will. The word is that you want the Freeman property, Otis. That’s the reason you’re so anxious for the bank to foreclose.”

  Langley’s face flushed. “That’s an insult, Elspeth!”

  “Then you don’t want the property?” Elspeth said, not wavering under his angry gaze.

  “Of course it’s good property, and someone’s going to get it, but not necessarily me. I would be interested, but the bank will have to take over the sale of the property.”

  “We pretty well know who will get first shot: the only man who has the money!” Pierce said harshly.

  “Orrin, you’re not a businessman! Anyway, it’s time for the vote.”

  This was the moment that Effie Johnson had dreaded, but she had no choice. “All in favor of extending their loan, raise your hand.” Every eye was fixed on Delaughter, for it was his vote that had held off the foreclosure so far. He sat there, his head bowed, not moving. His face was a dusky red.

  “Well,” Effie said, “there’s no sense asking for those in favor.”

  “Well, I’ll ask for it,” Otis said loudly. “Those in favor.”

  The vote was in favor of foreclosure.

  “Well, I’m glad that’s out of the way. Now we can get on to other business,” Otis said.

  “I don’t feel up to other business.” Elspeth Patton got up and left the room.

  “I don’t feel up to it myself,” Effie said grimly. “This
board is dismissed.”

  Otis Langley shot her an astonished glance, but when he saw the light in her eyes and the line of her set lips, he muttered, “Well, perhaps we can handle the other business at our next meeting.”

  “There was nothing you could do, Effie,” Elspeth said. The two women stood in Effie’s office. “You did everything you could. Otis Langley is a hard man.”

  “He hasn’t always been that way. When he was a younger man, there was a gentleness in him, but he lost it somewhere along the way.”

  “He lost it all right,” Elspeth said. “What now?”

  “I’ve got to go tell the Freemans the bad news, and I’d rather be shot.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Elspeth said.

  “That’ll be good of you. Two bearers of evil tidings won’t make it any better for the Freemans, but I need your support.”

  Neither woman spoke as they walked to the front porch. They climbed the steps, and Effie knocked. The door opened, and Maeva greeted them. “Hello, Miss Johnson, Miss Patton. Won’t you come in?”

  “Thank you, Maeva.”

  “Everybody’s in the living room. We’re popping corn on the stove.”

  “Haven’t done that in a long time,” Elspeth said.

  “It’s real good,” Maeva said. Apprehension was in her eyes. She led the two women into the living room. Lanie was sitting in the rocking chair holding two-year-old Corliss, and the two boys stood stiffly as if called to attention.

  As a rule, Effie Johnson had little trouble saying her mind, but she wished at this moment that she were anywhere in the world but in this place. “Hello, everyone. Miss Patton drove me over. My driving is not as reliable as it used to be.”

  “Won’t you have some popcorn?” Davis said.

  “No, thank you, Davis,” Effie said. “It gets in my teeth.”

  “How about you, Miss Patton?”