Just Dessert

by Heather Gray

  Chapter Seven

  Pa hadn't put in an appearance since Friday afternoon. With him absent, they'd been able to spend all of Sunday out working in the field. Everyone was tired but in good spirits as they cleaned up after supper.

  Once the dishes were clean, Bobby asked, "How come we don't go to church?"

  "Dummy, church don't do no one no good," chimed in Clive with a derisive snort.

  "Clive, that was uncalled for," scolded Mary.

  "We used to go to church." Lizzie's voice was soft as freshly sheared wool.

  "I don't want to go to church again," said Gigi.

  Defending his original question, Bobby said, "Grady goes to church."

  Mary thought carefully about how to respond to Bobby. She finally sat down at the table they'd just cleaned, and said, "Bobby, we used to go to church when Ma was alive. Do you remember?"

  Bobby nodded and sat down with Mary at the table. The girls followed suit, but Clive remained standing, defiance in every line of his stance. "I remember going," Bobby said, "but not much about it. Seems a lifetime ago."

  Mary nodded and was quiet for a moment before she continued, "Ma believed in God and took us to church every Sunday. After she died, people from the church came by and brought food for a couple days. But then Sunday came, and Pa was angry, and he said we couldn't go. So we didn't. It was the same each Sunday. No one from church ever came back out here to see how we were or to tell us they missed us. Then things with Pa got worse. It seemed like God had abandoned us. Eventually I realized God hadn't abandoned us at all. You can't abandon someone if you were never there for that person to begin with. Either He has no use for us or He's not real. Whichever it is, I've got no use for church."

  Clive seemed satisfied with Mary's response, but Bobby was definitely troubled by her words. She waited, knowing he'd say what was on his mind when he found the words. "What if I want to go to church?"

  Mary sat back in her chair, confounded. Hadn't she just explained church did no good? Hadn't she said God was make-believe? Before she hurt Bobby by saying something harsh, she asked, "Why?"

  "Grady's a smart guy, and he knows a lot of stuff. He's been real nice to us, too. Since he goes to church, it makes me wonder if maybe there's more to it. I'm not saying I want to go become a preacher or anything. I want to learn what it's about, though, and decide for myself if it's worth my time."

  Clive's hand came banging down on the table with a loud crash, causing all of them to jump. "You got no sense Bobby Fitzgerald! There is no God, and if there is, then He's a big bully in the sky who never did nothing to help us when we needed it! Church is a waste of time."

  Mary was shocked by the bitterness in Clive's voice. The boys generally got along well, even when they didn't agree. In many ways, Clive had become the man of the house, although Pa was still around. He often bossed Bobby, and Bobby usually took it without complaint. Watching the faces of her two brothers, though, Mary could see Bobby didn't much feel like the younger brother anymore. She was pretty sure he would stand his ground against Clive if it came down to it. When had these boys gone and grown up so much?

  "Clive, even if you don't agree with him, you still need to treat Bobby with respect." Her voice was firm, but it was only by force of will. Mary wanted to plead with him to understand how important it was not to cause division in the family. Rather than the contrition she would normally see on Clive's face, she saw nothing but hot anger. Deciding she would deal with that later, she said to Bobby. "Church don't do anybody no good, Bobby. I don't expect you to take my word for it, though. You're growing up, and you have a right to make some choices for yourself. This is one of them. As long as Pa don't tell you otherwise, it's fine with me if you want to try church again."

  Those words cost Mary a piece of her heart. She was afraid of losing Bobby, afraid he would get pulled into a world the rest of them weren't a part of and that he'd leave them all behind. Of all the kids, he was the most like Ma. Kind, nurturing, caring. Mary couldn't stand in the way of Bobby's growing up, even if, in that secret place within her heart, she wished she could.

  Clive went clomping out of the house, letting everyone within ear shot know what he thought of Mary's answer with the loud stomp-stomp of his feet.

  "Mary?" asked Lizzie.

  "Hm?" Mary answered distractedly, staring after Clive and wondering how she should handle his behavior. Thinking to herself that seventeen is far too young to be a mother to an angry teenage boy, she didn't hear what Lizzie said until the younger girl repeated it for the second time.

  "Can I go to church with Bobby?"

  Mary's gaze snapped around from the empty doorway to her little sister. "What?" she asked blankly.

  "Can I go to church with Bobby?" the girl asked, now for the third time.

  "No," was Mary's bleak response. Lizzie's bottom lip started to quiver and the questioning look in her dejected brown eyes told of her need for an explanation. With a sigh, Mary added, "No, Lizzie, I don't think so. Why don't we let Bobby go one week, and then he can tell us about it. You can ask me again, but the answer for this week is no." She couldn't say why, but Mary regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

  Bobby, for his part, appeared pleased as a barn cat toying with a mouse. Lucky for him, he didn't gloat. He stood, pushed his chair into the table, and politely said, "Thank you," before starting to leave the room. Suddenly he stopped and turned back to Mary, uncertainty woven into the wrinkle of his brow and doubt now shadowing his countenance. "Do you know what time church starts?"

  Mary stood up and walked over to her brother, giving him a loving hug. The young man of a moment before was gone, replaced by a boy who needed encouragement. It was easy, she knew, to feel uncertain and awkward at that age. He didn't want to get there too early and stand out, and he didn't want to get there too late and draw unwanted attention. She was reminded, at least for the moment, that he was still her little brother and wasn't going off into the world as a man yet. "I don't know, but you can go over to the Wilkes' place and ask Grady if you want. Be safe coming back. It's almost dark."

  With a whoop, Bobby took off like a shot out the door and across the property, not bothering with the drive or the road. He was going to run the whole way and get there too winded to even ask the question if his current pace was anything to go by. Shaking her head, Mary told the girls to get ready for bed. She washed the supper dishes, then went to tuck them in.

  Mary gave Gigi a kiss goodnight and tucked her blanket all around her. As she did so, the younger girl asked, "Mary?"

  Dreading another question about church, she responded, "Yes Gigi?"

  "I haven't seen Pa since yesterday. Have you?"

  "No, I haven't seen him either. Must be sleeping it off somewhere. I'm sure he'll be home soon."

  "Do you ever wish he wouldn't come home?" The look in Gigi's eyes was far too grown up for Mary's taste.

  "I think it might be wrong to wish that, Gigi. I do, however, sometimes wish he'd come home nicer." Mary kept a straight face despite the bald-faced lie.

  Gigi nodded sagely and said, "I like yours better. That's what I'll wish for too."

  When Mary bent over to give Lizzie a kiss, she could see the girl had questions. "Did you want to talk, Lizzie?" she asked, hoping again church would not be the topic.

  "When do you think Grady will come back?"

  Surprised, Mary answered, "I don't know. Why?"

  Lizzie shrugged, "I wanted to ask him something. It can wait, though."

  Mary tried to hide her hurt. She wished the girls a goodnight and stepped out into the hallway. As she made her way down the stairs, unease followed with the clack of her shoes on the stairs. Admitting the problem as she put the last of the dishes away, Mary signed. She felt threatened.

  Her family was growing up, and her brothers and sisters, who had always looked to her for guidance, were starting to develop opinions of their own, and Mary wasn't sure how to handle that. What would happen when they al
l grew up and left home? How would she survive without them? The emptiness of that thought tore the air from her lungs until she felt like she was suffocating. Mary forced her legs to move until she got out onto the front porch. Resting her hands on the railing, she leaned over the edge of the porch and pulled in big, whistling gulps of air.

  "You okay?" asked Clive from where he stood, a couple of yards away in the dirt expanse between house and barn. The breeze moved through his brown curls, making them dance.

  Mary nodded and tried to decide whether or not to tell him Lizzie was also asking about church. Knowing if she brought it up, they'd both get sidetracked, she instead nodded to one of the chairs on the porch. "Sit down, Clive. We need to talk."

  Clive moved to the indicated chair and sat, obstinate defiance in his every move. Not wanting it to feel like a lecture, Mary sat down as well and began rocking back and forth. She held her peace for a spell before jumping in, "You don't have to agree with Bobby, or the girls for that matter, or even me, but you do have to treat us all respectfully."

  "I know." The words had the twang of bitter chew hitting the spittoon.

  Mary felt too tired and worn out to fight her rising irritation. Doing her best to clamp it down, she simply said, "Clive."

  "Ah, come on Mary," was her brother's embattled response. "You know as well as I do, church is for do-gooders who don't ever actually do no good." At least his voice had moved from angry to exasperated. Exasperation she could handle.

  "I've been thinking," she started. "Maybe we've been blaming church and God for Pa's treatment of us. I don't think that's fair."

  "I don't blame anyone but Pa for the way he behaves. I blame all those church people, though, for not helping."

  "You ever wonder if maybe people tried to help and Pa ran them off?"

  The look on Clive's face gave nothing away. "What do you mean?"

  "Well," Mary began, "Sarah and that deputy brought a whole crate of goods, and they probably brought it out 'cause they knew Pa was in jail. The Wilkeses leave stuff out at the cow pen for us sometimes. Why would they do that instead of bringin' the stuff over here? Maybe they tried before and Pa told them they weren't welcome."

  "You think people been tryin' to help but Pa's been stoppin' them?" Clive asked, scratching his chin before running his fingers through his hair.

  "I don't know if I believe that exactly, but I have gotten to wondering about it here lately."

  "You want me to give the church folk a chance, don't you?" Clive asked, his voice moving from annoyance to resignation.

  "Not tellin' you what to do, Clive. I'm thinkin' out loud is all."

  "I'm goin' in to bed, but I suppose you ought to know that people done more for us than we ever told you. We thought we were doin' what was right by keepin' some of it from you."

  Mary glanced over at her brother and could see the anger was gone from his face. She wanted to demand answers and make him explain his remark, but she couldn't jeopardize this peace they'd come to. "All right," she said nodding. "I'll let you tell me when you're ready. But keep in mind, you might just be provin' my point."

  Clive glowered as he rose to go inside, but there was no real heat in his gaze. At least she'd given him something to think about. She needed to give it some thought, too. And what exactly did Clive mean by saying they'd not been telling her everything?

  Maybe all those church people weren't so bad after all.

  Chapter Eight

  Sunday dawned with a beautiful clear blue sky. After breakfast, Clive made sure he was busy out in the barn, so Mary and the girls were the only ones in the house to wave Bobby off. He was planning to walk to town, but Mary figured Grady would give him a ride in the Wilkes' wagon if he came across him on the road.

  While she wasn't worried for Bobby's safety, she did still have some niggling fears about how she would be able to hold her family together. It would complicate things even more if Bobby got attached at church. She wanted to blame Grady and be mad at him for it, but she couldn't think of a good enough reason to pin it all on him.

  After Bobby left, Mary rounded up the girls and Clive to work on a field neighboring the one they'd already gotten ready for planting. Grady had shown the boys an easier way to do it, and she hoped if they worked together they could get the bulk of the work done in one morning. They brought the mule and goat on tethers down to the field. Running the animals across it was supposed to break up the hard-packed dirt, making it easier to plow. Of course, when he'd showed them how, Grady had brought a couple of large heavy-footed cows. Mary wasn't completely sure the lighter animals would do the job, but, for the sake of her family, she had to try.

  Clive's irritation was plain to see. His eyes made Mary think of puddles filled with muddy rainwater. If she pushed in too forcefully or stepped too loudly she would end up splattered with his anger. Part of her hoped Bobby came back and told them church was one big joke and he'd never be going back. The other part of Mary, though – the part she dared not acknowledge – hoped Bobby found everything he was looking for at church.

  ****

  It took a good three hours to get the ground hardened by disuse broken up in a field not much bigger than a large garden plot. Gigi and Lizzie took turns with the goat, putting her on a leash and racing her through the field. Clive and Mary worked with the mule, coaxing, leading and forcing him to walk up and down throughout the field. A couple of big heavy oxen or cows would have been better and made quicker work of everything, but they were still better off by dinnertime than they'd been before.

  They were all trudging back up to the house for a bite to eat when the sound of an approaching wagon reached them. Clive shoved all the girls behind him, which was a challenge since they were also leading the mule and goat. "It's coming in way too fast," was all he said to Mary.

  Before any of them knew what was going on, Grady had whipped the wagon into the yard and pulled the horses to a screeching halt. "Get into the wagon!" he shouted. Clive tensed, and the younger girls cowered, knowing something was wrong. "Get in now!"

  When they all stood there without moving, Grady jumped down and headed their way, his long legs and purposeful stride eating up the ground between them. His eyes demanded compliance as he took the leads they had on the mule and goat and started taking the animals away. Before Clive could react, Grady bit out over his shoulder, "There's trouble in town today. A sweep to round up some criminals or something. Gunfire and trouble. Get in the wagon now. You're coming home with us until we know it's safe."

  "I can protect my family right fine," came Clive's angry response. Mary wasn't sure what to do. When Bobby leapt out the back of the wagon and grabbed Gigi, lifting her into the bed, though, she jumped into action and grabbed Lizzie, smoothly handing her up to Bobby.

  Mary watched as Grady put the animals into their pen. She wished she could will Clive into the wagon. Instead, he stood there, muscles rippling with wave after wave of anger. He reminded Mary so much of Pa in that moment. She was torn between two fears. She was afraid for her youngest three siblings and their safety, but she also couldn't shake her worry over this bitter side of Clive that was showing itself more and more. Torn between the differing needs of her brothers and sisters and feeling inadequate for the challenge they presented, Mary opted for practical action. "Fetch the guns and come with us," she said to Clive. "We'll need all the firepower we can get. Neighbors stick together and help each other. If Grady needs help getting to their livestock or protecting their farm, then we need to help. We owe him that much, don't you think?"

  Clive didn't look like he was buying her argument until Grady stopped in front of him and said softly, "Clive, I'm not trying to tell you what to do. It's real dangerous out there, and I can't protect Gram and Gramps and be worrying about you guys, too. I'm sure you can protect your family. I don't want to have to spend my time wonderin' about y'all, though. Come with me and protect your family at our place."

  Clive still didn't look convinced, but he relented.
He ran to the house, collected their shotgun and an ancient looking rifle, and jumped into the back of the wagon next to Mary. As Grady turned the wagon around, Mary got a better look at his grandparents. Worry drew together the lines of his grandmother's brow, etching into the age-worn wrinkles of her pale face. Her hair was drawn upward into a bun that, from Mary's vantage point, appeared ghostly white against the bright blue sky. Mr. Wilkes held a shotgun in his lap and frowned grimly as his eyes continually scanned their surroundings.

  Mary was reminded of a time not so long ago when she had been shoving the children behind her as Grady approached on a wagon. Today it was Clive who jumped to protect her and the others. The ground seemed to be shifting beneath her feet. Their world was changing, and Clive was changing with it, growing from boy to man. Exactly what kind of man remained to be seen.

  They pulled into the yard of the Wilkeses' home in short order. Helping his grandmother down, Grady told her to go with Mary and the girls into the house. Mr. Wilkes and Bobby accompanied them. Grady and Clive worked quickly to get the horses unhitched and into the barn, trying to calm and soothe the animals as they went. The horses responded to Clive's voice and touch, quickly settling down in their stalls for him. They could now hear gunfire in the distance. Clive didn't say a word to Grady, but he swiftly accomplished his tasks. When they joined the others in the house, Mary could see the gravity of the situation in her brother's eyes.

  Everyone gathered together in the living room. "All the doors are closed and barred," Gramps said. Then he gestured to a low table he'd dragged into the middle of the room. On it sat a pile of varying types of ammunition. "We were about to discuss strategy. Either of you boys got any suggestions?" he asked, directing everyone's attention to the Fitzgerald boys. Bobby glanced at Clive in question. Clive, on the other hand, had no trouble jumping in and taking charge of the situation. Grady was surprised by the deference Gramps was giving the boys, but he trusted the older man's judgment.