Just Dessert

by Heather Gray

  ****

  On Friday, Grady surprised all the children by having the wagon parked outside the schoolhouse when school let out for the day. Clive eyed him suspiciously. Bobby, without any guile, asked, "Whatchadoin' in town, Grady?"

  "It's the last day of school. No one should have to walk home on the last day of the year, right? Besides, I wanted to talk to you boys and Mary to work out a schedule for summer."

  Gigi chattered the whole way home about Mr. Grayson, their teacher. Grady had seen John Grayson and his wife Ida at church and thought they both seemed like nice enough folk. The youngest Fitzgerald clearly adored the man, though, and Grady made a mental note to size him up a little better the next time they crossed paths. If what Gigi was saying was true, the man was something special. "He gave you what?" Grady asked, surprise raising the pitch of his voice.

  "He gave me a book," Gigi said with awe.

  Grady didn't know what to make of that and looked inquiringly at both girls.

  Lizzie concurred. "He said he wanted to send each child home with a book for the summer, but he didn't have enough money to give each child one, so he made sure each family got a book. In our case, we got two, one for the boys to share and one for me and Gigi to share."

  Gigi jumped back in, "He said he wanted to do it every year but wasn't rich enough to give us all a book this year. Mr. Grayson said the idea barely came to him, or he'd have had more time to plan. Next year he's going to try to raise money from the community so he can truly send each child home with their very own book at the end of the year."

  "What book did he give y'all?" Grady asked, curious.

  "He gave us Winter Evening Tales, and he gave the boys one called Pilgrim's Progress. Mr. Grayson said we could read their book, too, when we get old enough to be able to make out the bigger words. Lizzie might have to help me with some of the words in our book, but it's going to be fun. I've never had a book all my own!"

  "Don't you mean 'we'? Aren't you and Lizzie supposed to share the book?" Grady asked.

  Lizzie remained quiet beside him, but Gigi continued on, "Lizzie said I could have the book as long as I let her read it when she wants to. That way we don't have to fight over it. I was so excited about having a book. She's a good sister, and I'll let her read it whenever she wants. Clive and Bobby can read it, too, if they want. Even Mary!"

  About this time, Grady was pulling the wagon into the Fitzgeralds' yard. Mary had come out onto the front porch to greet them. She seemed more distressed than normal. The boys climbed down while he lifted and twirled the girls before setting them on the ground. "Good afternoon, Mary."

  Rather than invite him in, Mary came down off the steps and approached the wagon. Gigi started telling her big sister about the day at school and the book. Grady, concerned by the shadow of worry he saw on Mary's face, gently cut in on the little girl's monologue. "Gigi, I need to talk to Mary and the boys. Can you and Lizzie go inside and put your things away and give us a minute?"

  Without a complaint, Gigi and Lizzie both headed toward the house. As soon as they were out of ear shot, Clive asked Mary, "What's wrong?"

  "It's nothing, really," she says. "Pa still hasn't shown back up, and I guess I'm getting a little worried." Turning to Grady and putting a lighter note in her voice, she asked, "What can we do for you, Mr. Carlisle?"

  "I stopped by so we could try to work out a schedule for the summer, for the boys to spend over at the Wilkes spread, and days for me to be over here." When Mary nodded, he continued, "I figured if the boys come on over and help…"

  Grady was cut off by the sound of a rider approaching on horseback. "It's not Pa," Clive said under his breath, softly enough that Grady nearly missed the words. As the rider got closer, they saw Sheriff Spooner sitting his horse, face somber.

  Rather than speak from the top of his horse, the sheriff dismounted and approached. "Mary, can I speak to you privately for a moment?"

  Mary nodded to the sheriff but made no move to separate herself from where she stood with the boys. Grady finally stepped in and said, "Clive, Bobby, come with me. We'll go wait on the porch so the sheriff can talk to your sister." He herded the two boys to the porch then stood there with them, watching Mary and the sheriff. Lizzie and Gigi came out and joined them. The law showing up could only mean one thing: their pa had gone and gotten himself in trouble again.

  His eyes intent on Mary, Grady watched as her worry gave way to shock, fear, and pain before she managed to pull her stoic mask into place. Turning away from the sheriff, she walked toward the porch and said to Grady, "I need to go with the sheriff, but we don't have a horse. Could I impose on you for a ride?"

  As soon as Grady nodded, the boys were climbing into the back of his wagon, the girls right behind them, waiting to be lifted in. Mary wanted to go alone and told them all to get out, but they would have none of it.

  "Not 'til you tell us what's going on," Clive demanded.

  Mary observed her family, the mask of indifference turning into a hardened shell that, to Grady's eye, looked like it might crack at any moment. Taking a deep breath, she said, completely monotone, "A body's been found. They think it's Pa. Sheriff Spooner needs me to look at the body and confirm whether or not it's him."

  The girls' eyes widened, Bobby's face showed surprise, and Clive, showing no emotion at all asked, "Pa's dead?"

  "Seems so," Mary answered, "but I have to look at the body and make sure."

  "How'd he die?" Bobby asked the sheriff.

  The sheriff, looking uncomfortable at being questioned by a child, said, "I can't discuss any of the details until we know for sure it's your pa."

  Clive, steel in his voice, said, "Must be mangled pretty good if you can't tell for yourself it's Pa."

  Looking as uncomfortable as a man with the build of a bull could, the sheriff said, "I think it's him, but I have to be certain. Declarin' a man dead if it turns out he's still alive somewhere won't go over too well."

  "Mary?" came Lizzie's soft voice. When Mary glanced down, the girl added, "We want to go with you please." The oldest Fitzgerald stared blankly at her sisters for a moment before silently lifting them both into the back of the open wagon. Grady knew she had to be in shock when Mary accepted his help climbing into the wagon. In short order Grady and the Fitzgerald children were following Sheriff Spooner to where the body had been brought – to the barn of Mr. Keen, a local man who doubled as the town's undertaker.

  The mood in the wagon was somber. The girls held hands. Bobby stared into the distance. Clive lacked his normally combative posture. Mary, hands clutched tightly in her lap, looked straight ahead, a blank stare on her face.

  ****

  Upon arriving at Mr. Keen's barn, Grady was surprised by the undertaker's appearance. He'd always assumed undertakers were dour folk, that being gloomy was a symptom of the job. Mr. Keen, though, with his short stature and plump frame, was a contradiction to that notion. He had well-embedded laugh lines that spoke of a ready smile. He was kind and compassionate as he greeted the family and led them to where the body was laid out in an unadorned pine coffin.

  Mary and the children gathered around the coffin while Grady stood a few feet back. The emotions could be felt moving through the barn as each child took in the appearance of their father lying before them, ravaged by death. Mr. Fitzgerald's skin was ghostly pale and an ugly mottled purple in turn. Despite the open barn doors, the smell was strong and putrid. He had several wounds surrounded by crusted blood. The lower half of the man's body was covered with a blanket, leading Grady to wonder what atrocity was hidden from the family's eyes. To his mind, what they were seeing now couldn't possibly get worse. Unless wild animals had begun gnawing on his legs…

  Grady wanted to offer comfort but struggled with what to say. Should he tell them he was sorry for their loss when, truthfully, what they had lost was a tyrant who made them live in constant fear? He felt the anger building inside him toward Mr. Fitzgerald and all the man had done to his family.

>   Grady noticed tears streaming down Lizzie's face. Gigi, lower lip puckered and chin quivering, looked near crying as well. Stepping closer, he picked Lizzie up and cradled her in one arm while placing his other around Gigi's shoulders. Sniffling against his neck, Lizzie said quietly, "It doesn't make sense to miss a man who was so mean." Agreeing but having no words to offer, Grady hugged her that much closer, murmuring soft words of comfort into her shiny red hair.

  After a few more minutes, Grady made his way back to the wagon, taking both girls with him. He dropped the end gate and settled them on the back of the wagon, and sat between them, legs dangling. He let them cry and talk and be silent as they felt the need. With wisdom beyond her tender years, Gigi put it best when she said, "I won't miss how mean he was, but I'll miss the dream that someday he might come home and be nice to us."

  As he spoke with the girls, Grady was able to keep a watch on Mary and the boys, who stood by their father's body much longer than the girls had. After a brief conversation with the sheriff, the rest of the Fitzgerald clan turned toward Grady and the wagon. Grady was shocked by the change in the three of them. He would have expected to see sadness tempered by relief or vice versa on their faces. Instead, what he witnessed was a stark contrast to the first day he had seen this family by the church when they were fleeing after the scene their father had made.

  That day all three were haunted by fear, but the boys – Clive especially – had also been filled with anger, belligerence, and defiance. On this day, the day they viewed their father's dead body, Bobby's face was filled with hope, a beautiful sight. Clive's expression danced somewhere between relief and utter joy. Mary's face, however, arrested Grady's attention the most. It was filled with stark terror, more potent than he'd ever seen before.

  The fear on her face clenched Grady's gut and caused his heart to stutter in his chest.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grady didn't ask permission when he drove straight past the Fitzgerald farm. What this traumatized family needed right now was some good old-fashioned love, and his Gram was the best he knew at dishing that out.

  He'd told the sheriff where he was taking them and asked no announcements be made about Mr. Fitzgerald's death until the next day if possible since no one would be at home to receive visitors. Knowing how isolated they had been during these past years, Grady wasn't sure how Mary and the kids would even feel about receiving visitors.

  Mary would have to be strong enough to deal with all the pressing issues that arose whenever there was a death in the family. Gramps would be able to give him an idea of what they should expect in the coming days. Grady wanted to help prepare them for whatever was to come. He couldn't explain why he felt the urge to protect Mary and the kids, but the impulse was strong nonetheless.

  Gram and Gramps came out to meet the wagon. One look at the sullen-faced children, and Grady's grandparents did him proud. Gram ushered the family into the house to get washed up for the meal that was already hot and waiting. She didn't bat an eye at the extra mouths to feed.

  Gramps accompanied Grady to the barn to bed the horses down and take care of the wagon. When Grady told Gramps about Mr. Fitzgerald's death, the older man did nothing more than nod in acceptance. "Doesn't it bother you he was murdered?" Grady needed to know.

  "Did the sheriff say it was murder?" asked Gramps.

  Grady looked at his grandfather for a moment. Gramps was strong as an ox and had a thick head of grey hair with skin tanned from years in the sun. His eyes, when they weren't laughing, reflected an inner peace Grady hoped to one day achieve. As much as he soaked in the sight of his grandfather alive and well, though, Grady couldn’t quite erase the image of death from his mind. He finally shrugged in response to Gramps' question and said, "The body was shot up pretty bad. Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions, but it looked like murder to me. Don't say anything in front of the kids. I don't know if any of them noticed. Mary either."

  Gramps nodded, focused on his grandson, "Grady, we reap what we sow. That man lived a life of anger and violence. Hard as it is to swallow, he may have gotten what he deserved."

  "I won't believe that, Gramps. As long as he was alive, there was a chance he would change. I can't deny I think they're all better off without him, but Gramps, if you'd seen the look in Lizzie's and Gigi's eyes, if you'd seen how confused they were about how sad they felt..." Knowing the family would have some difficult days ahead and frustrated at his inability to shield them, Grady blew out a hard breath and said, "The last thing those kids need right now is judgment – of them or their father."

  Pushing back a shock of grey hair that had fallen onto his forehead, Gramps nodded. "On that, son," Gramps said firmly, "we are wholly in agreement."

  Grady and Gramps joined the rest of the family in the house and settled in at the table. Gram said, "James, dear, why don't you bless the meal?"

  Gramps prayed, "Lord, we ask you to bless this food for us, but we also ask You tonight to bless the Fitzgerald family. They have suffered a loss, and they are hurting. There may be hard times ahead for them as they have to deal with burial and funeral and the things that go with death. Please strengthen them, Lord, but please also comfort them with Your loving arms tonight. Amen."

  When Grady looked up from the prayer, he saw the still-shocked faces of his neighbors. He put a smile on his face, forced some lightness into his voice, and asked who wanted bread, as he began to pass one dish after another around the table. None of the kids took much, but they did each eat something, and he supposed that was the best he could hope for.

  The Fitzgerald family went to bed early that night and fell quickly to sleep. Lizzie and Gigi were curled up tightly against Mary, slumber smoothing the sadness from their faces. When Grady walked through the house one last time before retiring himself, he found Bobby and Clive asleep on the floor in the girls' room rather than in the one Gram had given them.

  Grady whispered a soft, "Sleep tight," into the slumbering room before retiring to his own bed. Everyone needed their sleep tonight. Tomorrow would be a draining day, especially for Mary, who, since the day of the picnic when he'd given her a ride, had never seemed comfortable letting people into her life.

  ****

  Morning came long before anybody was ready. Mary lay in bed after she woke. Something was wrong. Heart constricted within her chest, it was a moment before she recalled what had occurred the prior day.

  Pa was dead.

  The terror she'd felt the day before at the thought of being in charge of her family's welfare and survival had faded. Sleep had cleared her mind, and she realized that she'd been in that role for years. The difference now was that she had sole responsibility and no longer needed to shield the rest of the kids from Pa.

  Looking around the room, she saw Clive watching her. Everyone else was still asleep. "What now?" he asked.

  "Well," Mary said, matching his whisper, "we get up, go home, and start running the farm the way it ought to be run. There won't be any need to hide our work from Pa. As many fields as we can prepare, we plant. We can put a latch on the front door and get more chickens so we have more eggs to sell. Basically," she said with a hint of a smile, "we can do whatever we please."

  "We got t' bury him, don't we?"

  Mary cast her eyes to the ceiling and bit back the retort that almost spilled over her lips. Sighing, she said, "You're probably right. Ma would want us to do that for him."

  "It'll matter to them, too," Clive said, pointing his chin toward the two young girls still asleep in the bed.

  Mary nodded, "You're right. I don't like it, but you're right."

  "Why do you think they're sad about this?" Clive asked.

  With a grimace, Mary answered, "I did my best to protect all of you. You, in turn, protected them," she said, nodding to the three slumbering forms. "You and me, we tried not to let any of the others know how bad it really was. Bobby's smart, though. He figured things out on his own. The girls—I think they still had hope Pa would change and become a
good pa. I encouraged them to hope. It helped them somehow. You and me—we knew better. We gave up on him a long time ago."

  Clive nodded in agreement. "We still gotta protect them now he's gone, don't we?"

  "What d'you mean?" Mary asked.

  "The girls are sad he's gone," he said, indicating the girls again. "They're going to want to try to remember happy times with him, aren't they? We're going to have to make sure they don't remember how bad things actually were."

  Mary could hear the resignation in Clive's voice and understood. It would be hard to protect the reputation of a man they had both come to despise. They would, nonetheless, do it for the younger kids. "Whatever it takes to make sure they don't spend their whole lives in the shadow of that man's violence."

  Clive and Mary exchanged a look of shared determination. She saw maturity and wisdom in his eyes, and it fed her hope for the man he was becoming. Nodding, she agreed with what Clive wasn't voicing. They would do whatever it took to make sure Pa never again had the power, even in memory, to hurt their family.

  ****

  After a hearty breakfast, Grady brought the family home. Clive almost jumped out the back of the wagon when they pulled into the yard and saw people milling about by the barn. Mary stilled him with a hand on his arm, preventing his impulsive leap. She, however, was equally unhappy to find people on their property. As soon as the wagon fully came to a stop, she hopped down and started over to where the men stood.

  Grady called her name loud enough to halt her steps. She turned to look at him, impatient. "Mary, hold up," he said. Quickly approaching her, Grady spoke in low tones. "These men are here to build you a new chicken coop closer to the house so you don't have to go so far for your eggs. They're going to make sure the barn and pen here are in good shape, too, so you can safely move your cow closer, too."