“Well, Mr. Red, what if something had happened to me? What if I had decided to stay and talk to Miz Larkin and Jerry Larkin like I wanted to? What if I had just followed my own inclination, and stayed out there? Or what if I had had a ferocious accident on the Styx River bridge, and right this very minute I’d be singing hymns with the guppies? You’d be out here all by your lonesome, about to drown in a glider!”
All the while she was scolding him, Belinda raised James Redfield out of the glider, and guided his palsied way through the glass doors. She helped him onto his bed, where he lay back wearily. She removed his shoes and placed them in their accustomed spot, then went to close the doors that opened onto the patio.
“Don’t do that, Miss Pie, I want to hear the rain Belinda paused and stared out into the patio. A few heavy drops exploded against the iron chairs. The dark sky pushed against the tops of the pines.
“Mr. Red,” she said softly, “I want some thanks, because I just saved you from a watery grave out there on your very own private patio. Next thing I know I’m gone have to quit school and take care of you full time, because you sure aren’t gone do it.”
Belinda Hale had been tending to James Redfield for the past nine months, and the man had grown dependent on her daily ministrations. She plumped his pillows, and warmed Nina’s leftovers for his dinner and prodded him to take his medicine and scolded him when he did not. When he fell asleep in the afternoon, it was to the sound of her voice; and when he woke a couple of hours later, it was with her speech growing louder and more coherent in his ears. He was an old man, and the attention of this lovely young girl flattered him, though he was careful at the same time to pay her well for the time that she spent at his house.
Ted Hale, the sheriff, didn’t like his daughter’s spending so much time at James Redfield’s bedside; but he hadn’t the courage to command Belinda to leave off her visits. The pay was generous, and Belinda put most of it into the bank—there was little chance of the cheerleader being caught up short in anything—and he could not have replaced it. Beyond that, Ted Hale had a great respect for James Redfield, who was acknowledged the most powerful and the richest man in Babylon—and he had thereby all the more respect for his daughter, who controlled the difficult invalid so easily. The sheriff was good friends with Nathan Redfield, James’s elder son, who now ran the bank, and Nathan’s greeting to him was always appended with praise for Belinda’s indispensable care of his father.
Ted Hale knew that James Redfield was not on the best terms with his offspring, Nathan and Benjamin, and suspected that Belinda, whether by design or out of accidental charity, was acting as a buffer between father and sons. He sometimes subtly questioned his daughter on this point, but Belinda was careful to misunderstand and deflect her father’s veiled inquiries.
The sheriff’s surmise was in fact the case. Whole days went by when James Redfield saw neither of his sons, though both were unmarried and lived at home. Nathan was away at the bank during the day, and took lunch where he could be served a couple of strong drinks—Nina didn’t approve of liquor, and would never allow it to be drunk with a meal that she prepared. For two years, Benjamin had been apprenticing as a teller at the bank, but his work was slow and inaccurate. Now his sole duty at CP&M was to drive to Pensacola three times a week to pick up bags of coins needed for Babylon’s merchants, leaving at different times of the morning, but returning always half an hour before closing. He saved the bank a portion of its Wells Fargo fees.
Otherwise, Ben did little. From April through October he lay on the hot white sand in front of Nathan’s condominium on the beach at Navarre, at the eastern tip of Santa Rosa Island in the Gulf of Mexico. When it was too cold for the beach, Ben watched television, and accompanied his brother to the dog track in Cantonment. Since his father didn’t question him on the progress of his apprenticeship, Benjamin was never put to the extremity of lying.
In the evenings, Belinda fixed a small dinner for James Redfield, consisting principally of the leftovers from the noontime meal prepared by Nina. Nina was middle- aged, large-boned and coarse-featured, and was never seen without an expensive glossy black wig that she had purchased in New Orleans an hour before John Kennedy’s assassination. Her bulging figure was confined in a blue uniform a size too small, and she was proud of being the only maid in Babylon to wear one. She was devoted to James Redfield, and had worked for him since the death of his first wife in 1954.
Occasionally Benjamin or Nathan would peek into their father’s bedroom and greet him briefly. This was to demonstrate that there was no outright warfare between themselves and Mr. Red. When something particular was wanted, or some message had to be delivered, or a signature secured, they would sit briefly on the corner of the bed or at the other end of the glider. James Redfield didn’t object to this lack of attention, for he found the interviews no more welcome than did Benjamin and Nathan. He was not lonely when he could count on seeing both Nina and Belinda in the course of the day, and few afternoons went by when he did not have one or the other to gossip with him on his patio. He appeared to use the two women as protection against his sons.
James Redfield had recently concluded that life had never been so satisfactory as it was now, even though he rarely left his small suite of rooms. He was secure and untroubled, no longer worried about the bank, and he saw no one he wished to avoid. Nina knew exactly whom to allow in, and whom to turn away at the door.
His two sons were the thorns in his flesh. He suspected that neither was up to any good, and thought that they were probably bad in different ways. But these fears remained necessarily vague, since they were respectful in his presence, and told him nothing at all of their lives. James Redfield’s friends, no longer close to him, were unwilling to repeat what they had heard of Nathan and Ben, even supposing that they knew anything, and the old man was too proud to ask, afraid of what he might hear.
Nina professed ignorance of the ways of Benjamin and Nathan, and always exclaimed only, “I don’t know for the life of me where they gone to, Mr. Red. You could switch me with a entire blackberry patch till I was standing in a puddle of my own blood, and I still wouldn’t know nothing about them two.”
Belinda was cagier than Nina, and told James Redfield only things, perhaps true, perhaps fabricated for the occasion, that would reassure him. She would say: “Why, Mr. Red, Benjamin was so nice to me last time I went in the CP&M, and I did a deposit and a withdrawal at the same time, and he didn’t make one single solitary mistake, and he’s probably right out there right now on the diving board about to do a belly flop—you want me to go see if I can find him?” Or, speaking of the elder son, she would say: “Mr. Nathan and my daddy said they were going out to supper in Pensacola tonight. Daddy knows this real nice place, and it’s out on the pier, and you know there’s nothing like salt water to give you an appetite for steak and potatoes, so Daddy loves to go there. I told Mr. Nathan not to let my daddy go out drinking any three-point-two beer, and Mr. Nathan pulled out this stack of Bibles, and promised me he wouldn’t...”
James Redfield knew exactly what Belinda Hale was doing, but he lazily allowed himself to be reassured.
The rain fell heavily, and against James Redfield’s wishes, Belinda closed the door onto the patio, leaving a space of only about three inches. As it was, she had to pull her chair close beside the bed so that they could hear one another over the noise of the falling water.
“Miss Pie, I do believe you make up stories that you think are gone make me feel good, I believe you do!” he cried in his highest pitch.
“I told you not to call me that, Mr. Red, or I am gone walk out that door into the blinding rain, and never set foot in this room again.”
“I couldn’t do without you, you know that...” said the old man, and Belinda smiled at him beatifically. He hoped he would be dead before Belinda went away to nursing school.
Mr. Red and Belinda talked half an hour more. (Only Belinda and Nina were privileged to use this nickname for Ja
mes Redfield.) Belinda excitedly told the invalid of her success in being elected co-captain of the cheerleader squad, and Mr. Red wanted to write out a large congratulatory check, but Belinda wouldn’t hear of it.
“Where you think I’m gone cash something like that? I take it down to the CP&M, and everybody there’s gone know about it in two minutes flat, and they gone think I’m doing night duty here!”
In the midst of her laugh, there was a brief knock at the door. It was opened immediately, and Benjamin Redfield’s tousled head of dark brown hair craned around. “Hey, Daddy...” he said softly.
“What you want, Ben?” his father demanded shortly.
“Daddy, Nathan just wanted to know if Belinda was in here.” Ben stepped inside the door. He was of medium height, and below average looks, which however had improved after he had grown the moustache that Belinda had once playfully suggested to him.
“I’m here,” said Belinda brightly: “You mean you couldn’t hear me at the other end of the house?”
“I heard you,” the young man grinned.
“What does Nathan want with Belinda?” asked James Redfield.
Ben looked confused. Belinda winked at him, and he became even mere flustered. “Daddy, I don’t know, something about supper, I guess. Sure is coming down, hunh?”
“Somebody pulled out the stopper,” cried Belinda, and stared dramatically through the plate glass. Rain beat against the cast iron furniture, and tore up the dirt in the flower beds around the patio.
Ben stood clumsily about, and his father sighed heavily. Well Belinda’s here, as you can see if you got eyes, Ben, but she is taking care of me, as I hope you can also see. Nathan’s got two good legs, and a good back, and it looks to me like he could take care of himself. And why you run his errands for him I want to know?”
“Daddy,” pleaded Ben. “I just came in here to speak to you, and to see if Belinda was in here with you. I didn’t come in here to get blessed out.”
“Mr. Red, why don’t I go see what Mr. Nathan wants? I swear, Ben, you and Mr. Nathan are more helpless than Mr. Red.” She smiled graciously at her employer, saying in a lower voice: “And he's just pretending ’cause he likes me to wait on him. The three of you would run Nina and me down to bloody stumps if we let you. I saw a water-baby in a prefab incubator that could take care of itself better than the three of you put together.”
With a melting smile, Belinda rose from her chair, and marched to the door. “Ben, you stay here and talk to your daddy till I get back from seeing what it is that Mister Nathan Redfield cain’t do for himself.”
Ben, with a gesture of impatience and dismay, looked imploringly at Belinda. He had no wish to remain behind with his father. She cocked her head at him severely, and he moved irresolutely toward the chair that she had just vacated.
“Take him with you, Miss Pie, I don’t have anything to say to him, and he don’t have nothing to say to me,” “Daddy!” protested Ben.
“Mr, Red, you ought not talk about Ben in front of him like that. If you’d just sit and listen, Ben could tell you lots of things that you’d like to hear. He talks to me and I listen to him for hours on end, and it don’t seem like twenty minutes have gone by, from start to finishing it off.” Mr. Red said nothing, and Belinda shrugged. “Well, Ben,” she sighed, “I guess you better come on with me. I declare, there are times I can get lost in this house, like I had never been in here before in my life. If the King of Sweden moved in with his wife and his twenty kids, you probably wouldn’t even know they were here till you saw ’em taking up the swimming pool…”
Belinda pushed Ben out of the room, turned and smiled at Mr. Red, and then was gone herself.
Alone in the large, sparsely furnished, low-ceilinged room, James Redfield turned painfully in his bed, and stared out the plate glass doors into the patio. There the rain had formed wide pools, and the pine needles floated, a brown churning mat atop the flagstones. Pines just beyond the stuccoed walls swayed unrhythmically in strong contrary winds. The light was failing, and for lack of anything else to think of, James Redfield tried to determine, by the sound and quality of the thunder, which houses in Babylon the lightning had struck.
After a flash of lightning not apparently worse than any other, the second hand on the electric clock on the bedside table halted. James Redfield did not notice the loss of power, but braced his body against the inevitable thunderclap.
Chapter 6
The thunder that held James Redfield rigid and fearful on his bed had rolled up in thick overpowering clouds from the Gulf of Mexico, through Babylon quickly, and farther north to the Styx River. The waters of the stream were too disturbed to reflect the lightning, but all that part of the river not shadowed by overhanging vegetation or the planked bridge turned a shimmering leaden blue, and glistened like oiled snakeskin.
Evelyn Larkin stood at her bedroom window, and looked out over the blueberry patch to the Styx River bridge, watching for her granddaughter. The lightning flashed cold and blue, and bowed the trees crazily on either bank of the turbulent river. At the same time that she was impatient to see Margaret crossing the bridge, Evelyn hoped she had taken shelter in Babylon, and not ventured out. The Styx River road was awash. Lightning struck in the forest on both sides of the stream.
Below, Jerry Larkin stood motionless on the front porch. He could see little through the water that poured in an uninterrupted sheet from the roof, tearing up the flower beds, gouging splinters from the sagging steps. Without his grandmother having to ask, he had removed the great pots of fern from the ledges, where they were in danger of being overturned.
Jerry could not bring himself to look out the southern end of the porch, toward the blueberry bushes. It had rained this way three years before, when the crop was destroyed, when the Styx rose, when he had feared that the entire house would wash down to the Perdido.
With sudden resolution, Jerry loped to the other end of the porch. He stared toward the patch, and wondered then what he had expected to see. The bushes shook eerily; all were turned a light shade of green because the wind twisted the leaves wrongside up. He knew that already the berries on the lower branches had been beaten into the earth, and that perhaps five percent of the crop would be ruined with each hour of rain that kept up with this force. His temptation was to run out into the patch, and see the berries destroyed; but among the destruction, his anxiety and frustration would only increase to a hoarse fever.
The screen door swung damply open. Jerry turned at the muffled sound.
“Jerry,” said his grandmother quietly, “You come on inside. I see lightning. I don’t want you out on the porch when there’s lightning.”
Jerry nodded with unaccustomed obedience, and followed his grandmother inside.
Evelyn turned to her grandson in the darkened hallway. His form was blackly outlined against the dark green and gray landscape visible through the front screen door. Stray raindrops blown across the porch filled the rusting squares of the screen.
“I’m worried about Margaret,” said Evelyn with a calmness that Jerry could see was feigned. “I looked out my window, watching for her. I didn’t see her. Jerry, I didn’t want to see her. I don’t want to think of her out in weather like this. I don't like to think of her crossing the Styx. Those planks could fall through.”
“If Margaret had started out before it started to rain, she would have been here by now. Since she’s not here, it means she decided to stay in Babylon. She’s just waiting for it to be over. I’m surprised she hasn't called.” He spoke softly to his grandmother, pausing between each sentence in hopes that his logical explanation of Margaret s failure to return would comfort her.
Maybe we ought to call the school. I’m scared to use the phone when it’s lightning like it is, but I’ve got to find out where Margaret is. I’ve got to make sure that she’s safe. She walked into the small front parlor, and headed for the window that looked out onto the blueberry patch. On a small table before this window was the only te
lephone in the house.
“Call the school,” said Jerry, “but I don’t think anybody’ll be there. I ’spect that Margaret saw it was about to come down, and went over to sit it out with some friend of hers, maybe Annie-Leigh Hooker or somebody like that.” He followed his grandmother into the parlor.
From the directory, Jerry read out the number of the North Escambia County High School, but Evelyn’s hands trembled so, that Jerry dialed the number himself. He handed the receiver to his grandmother.
Lightning striking close by illuminated the room with a cold blue light, and thunder following immediately on shook the house to its foundations. The windows rattled in their frames.
Evelyn stared at her grandson in terror. “It went dead,” she whispered. “It started ringing and then it went dead.”
Jerry took the phone, listened, then jiggled the buttons, twirled the dial, all without effect. “The lines are down,” he said at last.
Evelyn moved slowly over to a chair, and sat weeping.
Jerry threw up his hands. “Grandma, don’t cry, please don’t cry. There’s no reason for it. The lines have been down before. They’re always coming down. I’ll bet they were down in Babylon since the beginning of the storm, and that’s the reason Margaret hasn’t called yet.”
“You think that’s it?” asked Evelyn, and raised her head hopefully.
Jerry nodded. He threw himself into the corner of the couch, sinking miserably into the broken springs. He hated all this: The telephone lines down, Margaret unaccountably absent, his grandmother about to twist into hysteria—and behind it all was the growing conviction that a substantial portion of their blueberry crop was being destroyed by the rain. They had little money left, and soon they would have no hope of getting more. He reached behind him to turn on the reading lamp beside the couch: He wanted light in the room.
Cold moon over Babylon Page 4