They almost made it.
“Is that Felix?” called a shrill voice. “Felix? You just come right back here, sir!”
“Oh God,” muttered Felix. “Don’t say anything.” He wheeled around and, holding Jottie’s hand firmly, retraced his steps up the path toward Tare Russell.
“Felix Romeyn! You haven’t been to see me in ages!” said Tare reproachfully, coming down the stairs.
“Hey, Mr. Russell. This is my sister Jottie.”
Tare glanced at her kindly. “Lovely to meet you, dear. Don’t you look like young Felix here?”
“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Russell,” said Jottie, almost curtsying.
“Call me Tare, both of you. I’m not so very much older than you.” He was thirty if he was a day, thought Jottie.
Felix did the talking. “I brought Jottie over to look at your sculpture. She didn’t know what a cornucopia was”—Jottie shot him an outraged glare—“and I couldn’t explain it right. So I brought her. That’s all right, ain’t it?” Tare reached out a freckled hand and touched Felix’s shoulder. “Of course it is. Didn’t I say you could come anytime, anytime at all?” His hand traveled down Felix’s arm to his wrist and patted it awkwardly. “Now. Wouldn’t you like to stay for some—cookies?”
“Well, we’d like to, Mr. Tare,” said Felix, “but Jottie’s got a piano lesson in about five minutes. She’s not very good at the piano, and she needs all the lessons she can get. So we have to go now.”
“Thank you, though,” added Jottie.
“Well,” said Tare, bunching up his mouth a little. He looked at the ground and then jerked his head up in surprise. “You’re in bare feet!”
Felix’s eyes dropped as though he’d never seen his feet before. Then he looked up, smiling hugely. “The state of nature is a state of grace.”
Tare gave a little start. “That is just exactly what I always say,” he confided breathlessly. “The noble savage is—is something of an ideal of mine.”
Felix laughed. “I figured it was.” He turned away, toward the front gate.
“Wait!” gasped Tare, and his hand darted out to snatch hold of Felix again. Then he remembered himself, blushing, and plunged his hand into his pocket. Felix’s eyes gleamed with amusement as Tare nodded apologetically to Jottie and patted his chest. “Asthma. Nothing to worry about.” He gulped some air. “Now, you be sure to come back. And you, too, Lottie.”
“We will,” said Felix. “Me and Lottie, I promise.”
—
Her feet were tingling with cold as they walked home. “Can I come with you again?”
“To tea with Mr. Tare?”
“No. To move things,” she said.
“Told you it would be fun,” he said smugly.
“I bet there’s more upstairs.”
“Yup. Lots. He’s got a Rebel flag over his bed.”
She giggled. “We could change it for a Union one.”
He whistled in admiration. “Should have brought you in a long time ago.” He nudged her arm, and she tucked it through his.
“Ladies, you’ve been delightful company,” said Tare, hobbling alongside them to the edge of his porch. “You’ve spoiled me for all my other callers.”
“Tare, thank you. I don’t know when I’ve been so entertained,” said Jottie, patting his sleeve.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Tare, for sharing your wonderful collection with me,” said Layla, gathering her notebook and hat.
“Why, you’re certainly welcome, my dear. You just come on back anytime.” He smiled benignly, but his grip on Jottie’s hand was white-knuckled. “Tell Felix to come pay me a call,” he said under his breath. “Tell him that.”
“I will,” Jottie said sympathetically. So many years of hopeless longing. Why didn’t he give up? “I sure will.”
He nodded, not meeting her eyes.
—
The two women parted at the corner. “See you at home,” Jottie said, lifting her hand in a brief wave. “I’m going to the New Grocery.”
“See you,” Layla replied limply. She walked along, feeling steam accumulate inside her hat. The streets of Macedonia lay still and stupid under the flatiron sun. I may die, she thought, plodding up the shadeless wastes of Monongahela Street. I may die, and all they’ll find is a little greasy spot where I dropped. Sweat slid from her arms and neck into her slip, wetting the lace trim.
A car rumbled past and stopped suddenly halfway down the block. With a grinding of gears, it whined into reverse and shot backward at the same speed with which it had proceeded.
“Oh, thank heavens,” cried Layla. She held out her thumb. “Can I have a ride?”
Felix smiled. “You got to pay.”
“Gladly. How much?” she asked, opening the door.
“I’ll let you know.” He took in her flushed face and damp dress. “You a little hot?”
“Yes, and I don’t know why you’re not. Why aren’t you ever hot, Felix?” It sounded more accusatory than she had intended.
“I’m like to melt,” he said cheerfully. “How about we go downtown and get us a Coca-Cola, nice and cold?”
And why don’t you ever argue? she thought, disgruntled. “All right,” she said. “That would be nice.” She turned to set her notebook on the backseat beside a large black case. “What’s that?”
“Hm?”
“What’s that case?” She waited for him to evade answering.
He glanced over his shoulder. “That? Chemicals.”
She blinked. “Chemicals? What do you mean? What kind of chemicals?”
“Mostly chlorine. Some salt-brine derivatives. Bromine. Magnesium. Ammonia.” He looked over at her and smiled. “Didn’t you know? That’s what I do. I sell chemicals.”
Something inside her that she wouldn’t name relaxed suddenly. She leaned her head against the back of the seat. “You sell chemicals?” She almost laughed. “Who do you sell them to?”
“Don’t they give you a test before they let you write books?” he said. “To whom.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Just barely. I sell them to the Armed Forces of the United States. Among others.”
“Felix, why—” She broke off, too happy to continue.
He pulled neatly up to a curb. “Why? Why not?” They gazed at each other, and then he leaned across her to open her door. “Madam.”
“Such service!” she said gaily, stepping out onto Prince Street. “The heat’s not so fierce here, is it—” She faltered, noticing that a line of men arrayed across the front of Shenandoah Tobacco and Cigar had turned, in unison, to watch her approach.
Felix materialized at her side, and as she looked to him for protection, she found his dark eyes assessing the row of men. He nodded formally.
Chins lifted in response.
“Out already?” he asked, looking at a man whose gray hair hung lank over his collar.
The man lifted his lip over long teeth. “Remember? They got to shut down when it hits a hundred.”
Felix nodded again, more easily this time. “That’s right. Glad to see there’s some humanity left in the old place.”
There were several smirks. “Ain’t for us, don’t kid yourself,” jeered a tall man. “Shank just don’t want the double cylinders to melt.”
“Ah, Sol’d shut it down anyway,” the first man said. “He’s got a heart, at least.”
Felix lifted his hat, and Layla felt his hand at her back. As they turned toward Pickus Café, she said conversationally, “Sol? Now, isn’t he the man I met when I went to American Everlasting? I think that was the name. He’s a friend of Jottie’s, isn’t he?”
Felix hesitated for only a second. “I don’t know. They seem like friends?”
“Yes. He came out to see her. Felix?” she ventured.
“Hm?”
“Did you ever work there, at the mill?”
“Me?” He turned to her with a flashing smile. “I sure did. I was a superintendent.”
&nb
sp; “What’s a superintendent do?”
“I don’t know about you,” he said pityingly. “A superintendent superintends.”
She giggled. “Why’d you leave?”
“I like chemicals,” he said. “Let’s get that Co-Cola, and I’ll tell you all the chemicals it’s got in it.”
30
The clock struck ten, and Jottie glanced up from her book. Like a ghost, Felix was standing in the doorway.
She flinched. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
“Surprise.” He glided past her and stood at the window.
She watched his back as he shifted the curtain with one finger and peered out into the night, a gesture so uncharacteristically wary that Jottie felt her stomach clench. “What?” she said.
He glanced at her questioningly.
“Is there something out there?” she asked.
“Wolves,” he said. “Cutthroats. Indians.” He turned his head for one more look and then dropped the curtain.
Jottie’s heart began to thump nervously. Something had happened. Was about to happen. She examined her brother’s restless, unrevealing face. “Where’ve you been?” she asked tentatively.
He swung around. “Let’s go for a drive.”
“Who? Us?” she stammered, thrown off.
He glanced around the empty room. “Yeah. I don’t like any of these other people.”
“What about the girls?”
One eyebrow flew up. “I was kidding about the wolves. Come on.” He held out a hand.
“I guess they’ll be all right.” She took his hand, her mind racing. Had he heard something? About Sol? Now, stop that, she scolded herself. You’re jumpy as a cat on hot macadam. He doesn’t know a thing. Probably. Oh, what a tangled web we weave, she recited silently, when first we practice to deceive. Let this be a lesson to you. Oh, hushup. Hushup and calm down. “Where are we going?”
“We’ll see,” he said. “The Lord will provide.”
As they slipped through the backyard to the alley where Felix kept his car, Jottie felt her worries recede a bit, as though she’d left them in the front room. She gave a little skip of excitement. It would never entirely die, the fun of going someplace with Felix. “Let’s pretend we’re going someplace good,” she suggested as she settled into the front seat.
Felix laughed and put in the clutch. “How ’bout New York?” The engine juddered to life. “The Big Apple.”
“That’s fine. I’ve never been to New York.”
Felix glanced her way. “It’s not so much,” he said kindly.
She cranked the window down to feel the false coolness of the passing air. Walnut, Kanawha, Locust, Maple…the streets notched by, white houses flaring up and fading back as they passed, easy and familiar, same as always. Jottie felt her hunched shoulders relax against the coarse cloth of the seat.
They were on False River Road when Felix swung the car sharply left, and the narrow beams of the lamps illuminated a startled world of greenery and bugs, followed by a broad swath of empty black. Beyond lay spangled water and the decrepit, tilting mass of a boathouse.
“Look at that thing,” said Felix. “Dollar says it falls into the river by Christmas.” He cut the engine, and the brief silence was engulfed by a riot of insects. He leaned back and closed his eyes.
Within the car, everything was quiet.
Still.
Jottie felt the silence thickening. Inside her shoes, her toes opened and closed.
Still.
Then his voice came, gentle and low. “I hear you went looking for Sol.”
“No!” she exclaimed with a surge of small-animal panic. Trapped. “No, I didn’t.” But I did, she thought guiltily. “I just…saw him. When I went to the mill.”
“So now you’re reunited, is that it?” His eyes snapped open. “Now everything’s just like it was in the palmy days of yore, huh?”
“Oh, Felix,” she begged. “Don’t be like that. Sol—” She broke off, chasing after words. I knew this was going to happen, she thought. I should have been ready. She wasn’t. “Listen, please, just listen to me.” She looked through the darkness and licked her lips. “I think it’s…silly—for me, anyway—to hold a grudge,” she said carefully, and paused, waiting for outrage. Felix said nothing. Fighting his silence, her words tumbled out in a rush. How she wasn’t trying to change his mind—she knew he wouldn’t change his mind—and she didn’t blame him, but she didn’t want to be angry anymore, she wanted to be friends, remember what a good friend Sol had been? Well, it seemed silly to be angry forever because of, well, a mistake. Just a terrible, terrible mistake—
“A terrible mistake,” she repeated. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. The silence stretched between them. “Felix?” she said anxiously into the shadows.
“That was no mistake, Jottie,” he said.
“Yes! It was!” she cried. “He was confused, and—”
Felix made a disgusted noise. “Confused, nothing. He was excited. He saw his chance and he took it—”
“Chance? There was no chance,” she cried. “Sol was heartbroken about Vause!”
“Don’t be a sucker. Sol was the happiest man in Macedonia the day Vause died. He thought he’d finally be able to get his hands on you, and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him.”
“He did not—he wasn’t—” she sputtered. Of course Sol had always liked her, but it hadn’t been like that, it hadn’t been a thing he schemed about. “That’s ridiculous! Sol wasn’t after me—”
“The hell he wasn’t,” Felix sneered.
“He idolized Vause.” She was certain of that.
Felix shrugged indifferently. “Sure, idolized. Wished he could be just like him. That’s why he wanted you, honey.” He smirked at her. “Sorry. It’s the truth, though. And that’s why he hated me, too. Because I was Vause’s best friend.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why you can’t see it.”
“He never hated you,” she said, hearing the quaver in her voice.
Felix heard it, too. He patted her hand. “I know you like to think he was a friend. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t, ever. He wanted you and he wanted me gone—listen, you remember the night before we left for Camp Lee? For basic training? Remember the party?”
“I wasn’t allowed to go to that party,” she said.
“That’s right.” He nodded, smiling fondly. “Funny, Mama taking such a stand about that party.”
“She said there would be fast girls and immodest dancing and no daughter of hers was going to keep such company,” Jottie recited, recalling her fingernails pressed helplessly into the flesh of her palms. Please, please, Mama, I’ll never ask you for another thing as long as I live. “How I cried.”
“She was right, though,” Felix said. “There were some real floozies there. Lots of booze, too. And you know who bought it?” He looked at her. “Sol. He must have spent a month’s allowance on it.”
“Sol?” She frowned. Sol had never been a drinker.
Felix nodded. “Wasn’t for him, though. Sol never broke a law in his life—commandments, yes; laws, no. Nope, the booze was for us. Vause and me. He said we should tie one on. Last chance and so on. I thought it was kind of funny—coming from Sol, especially—but friendly; you know, a friendly gesture. Then I noticed it was Vause he was chasing around—he was trying to get him drunk. I couldn’t figure out why, not until Vause left to go see you.” He laughed. “You should have seen Sol’s face. He looked like someone’d shot his dog.”
She shook her head. “You’re just making this up.”
“Believe what you want,” Felix said, unmoved. He snickered suddenly. “Poor old Sol. He thought if he could keep the two of you apart for a few more hours, he’d be in the clear. Vause would be out of the way, and Sol’d get what he never had in his whole life—the chance to edge out Vause Hamilton with a girl.”
“But he didn’t know about Vause and me. No one knew—not then,” she said, low.
“Everyone knew it wa
s going to happen sometime.”
“I didn’t know,” she murmured. “When he knocked on the window, my heart almost burst.”
Felix smiled. “Good thing Mama slept like a rock.”
“She wouldn’t have minded. She loved Vause. Remember how she loved him?” She turned to him hungrily, wanting more thoughts, more words, more of anything that brushed against Vause.
“Mm-hm.” Felix nodded agreeably, and Jottie allowed herself to surrender. Side by side on the roof, they had hidden their twined fingers between them like a secret. Vause had talked and talked—how itchy his uniform was, how he hoped the war wouldn’t be over before he got there, how he’d send her a postcard from camp—and she had watched him, listening enough to know every word he said but keeping one part of herself back, to exult in his moonlit handsomeness, to glory in all the places he could be and wasn’t, to bask in the heat of his hand wrapped around hers. She could almost feel it now; it would be worth the pain, it would be worth anything, to be back at the beginning with him, she’d do anything for it—
Stop.
No. She wrenched herself away, unwrapped the clinging hand. No, Vause. You were only pretending. It was only a game.
“He should have left me alone,” she murmured.
“What?”
She straightened up. “I don’t know about any of that,” she said. “I don’t know about any of it. Can’t we just forget it? It’s been eighteen years since Vause died.”
Felix made a low sound in his throat. “Eighteen years since Sol tried to have me thrown in the penitentiary. I wouldn’t be out yet.”
“He made a mistake, that’s all.”
“Right. His mistake was thinking he could get rid of me along with Vause.”
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