“I don’t understand.” Casewell held a piece of wood unheeded in his right hand.
“What I’m saying is, Perla lit out of town with little Sadie in tow. I reckon she’s gone home to her family, but she didn’t say for sure. Lordy, but the place is quiet without them.” Robert shook his head and kicked at the doorframe.
“But she’s going to marry me.”
Now it was Robert’s turn to furrow his brow. “Marry you? Casewell, did you ask Perla to marry you?”
“I did, and she said yes. Just yesterday. She came to say good-bye, but I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. You must be wrong about her leaving. She’s just gone for a walk or something.”
“With her luggage in tow? I doubt it. Son, sounds to me like you scared her clean out of the county.”
“I have to find her.” Casewell dropped the wood he was holding and ran for the house, nearly knocking Robert over as he went. “When did she leave?” He hollered the question over his shoulder.
Robert jogged across the wet yard behind Casewell. “Round about eight this morning. Got an early start. Frank come by the house to give her a ride. Guess you could start by tracking him down.”
Casewell stopped so suddenly Robert nearly crashed into him. “Frank? Why in the world would he drive her?”
“Guess she asked,” Robert said with a shrug.
“You know if he’s back?”
“Nope. But I ain’t been looking for him.”
Casewell grasped his friend by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Thanks for coming out to tell me. Delilah was right to send you. I don’t think I can live without that woman.” Then he rushed into the house, grabbed his truck keys, and was spinning out of the yard before Robert could speak.
Casewell sped down dirt roads to Frank’s house. He leapt from the truck and onto the front porch without losing much speed. He pounded on the door.
“Hang on, hang on. Whose barn is on fire?” Frank came to the door with a book in his hand. “Casewell. Come on in. I’m in the mood for some company.”
But Casewell remained on the porch. “Where did you take her?”
“Take who?”
“Perla. How could you—” Casewell couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I took her to the bus stop, son. I thought you might not be glad she was going, but I’ve learned that when a woman says she’s going to do something, it’s best to let her.”
“But she said she’d marry me.” Casewell knew he sounded like a tired child, but he couldn’t seem to think through this situation.
“Well, then. No wonder she hightailed it out of the county on a Greyhound bus. Marriage.”
“What do you mean?” Casewell was almost begging, but he didn’t care.
“Casewell, that woman thinks she’s ruined herself in the eyes of God and man. I expect the worst thing you could have done to her was propose. The surest sign of her love for you is this running-away business. If she didn’t care about you, she’d marry you and give that child of hers a father. But I’m guessing she cares too much to saddle you with her fatherless child.” Frank slapped Casewell on the back. “Son, I’d guess she loves you even more than you love her.”
“I don’t understand.” Casewell sounded like a little boy who wasn’t going to the circus after all.
“No, it’ll take you more years than you’ve got to understand. Just go after her. She’ll like that.”
“Where?”
“I dropped her off at the station in Parson Springs. She didn’t say where she was going, and I didn’t ask, but you might could find out.”
Frank was still speaking as Casewell slammed the door of his truck and spun out of the yard.
It took forty-five minutes to drive to Parson Springs. Casewell roared into the parking lot at the Greyhound bus station and strode toward the ticket office. A small man with a large mustache drowsed behind the counter. Casewell came to a stop in front of him and realized he wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed.
“Can I help you?” The little man blinked at him. He spoke with a slight accent, and Casewell wondered for just a moment where he was from.
“I’m looking for someone.”
“Ah-ha.” Casewell thought the ticket man pulled back a notch. “I’m not sure I can help you.”
“She’s my fiancée.” Casewell felt pride and desperation battle in his breast at the word. “I’m afraid she thinks I don’t love her and she’s running away.” Was that a flicker of interest? “I do love her.” Casewell leaned across the counter. “I need to find her and let her know how much.”
“And what if she still wants to be away from you?” The man gave Casewell a sidelong look.
“Then I’d have to let her go. But I can’t lose her to a misunderstanding.”
The ticket man looked thoughtful. “Only one woman has come through here without a man this morning, but she had a child with her.”
“That’s her.” Casewell felt excitement rise. “With her daughter—the most wonderful little girl. Please help me find them.”
“Humph. Well, the miss bought a ticket for Ohio. Seemed very sad about it, too. And the child didn’t act like she wanted to go—not that she was complaining. Maybe they need chasing down.”
“Where in Ohio?”
“Pittsboro. Bus left here at ten this morning.” He rifled through some papers. “Let’s see. It is almost two now. She should be changing buses in Parkersburg. She’ll be in Camden in another hour. There’s quite a layover there—looks like three hours. You will perhaps catch her . . .”
Casewell had an ancient map of West Virginia in his glove box. He’d rarely traveled so far north in the state, and he couldn’t risk getting lost. It looked like Camden was about sixty miles beyond the West Virginia state line—thankfully it was big enough and close enough to show up on a map of West Virginia. It would likely take him five hours to get there, and he reckoned he had four. He began pushing the old truck as hard as it would go.
Casewell was grateful for the new West Virginia Turnpike. Without it, his drive would take another two hours. Even so, the new highway only went so far, and he would eventually have to leave it and pursue winding mountain roads. He pressed down on the gas pedal.
After driving without stopping for nearly three hours, Casewell crossed into Ohio. He knew he could never cover the remaining sixty miles in the time he had left. He took off his watch and threw it on the floorboard. He prayed that he would somehow make it in time.
“Casewell.”
Casewell’s eyes widened and he looked around the cab of the truck. He was alone.
“She’s the one, boy. Go get her.”
Casewell swallowed hard. It was his father’s smoke-roughened voice. He knew he was imagining it, but he could hear it plain as day.
“If you were ever going to do a thing right, now’s the time. Drive faster.”
Casewell laughed and pushed the truck a little harder. Leave it to his dad to talk tough from the grave. He imagined his father sitting in the truck beside him, enjoying this adventure. Casewell drove faster and began speaking aloud.
“She is the one, Dad. And she’s afraid. I guess I’m a little scared, too, but I’m more scared of losing her than I am of what people will think about us getting married.” He smiled. He never would have admitted to being afraid while his dad was alive. So Casewell kept talking to his father now. He talked about his dreams and how Perla and Sadie fit into them. He talked about his mother and how strong she was, even though she seemed meek and mild. He talked and he drove and by the time he saw the bus station, he was hoarse and desperate for a drink of water.
As Casewell pulled into the parking area, he saw a silver-and-blue bus with the iconic racing dog on the side pulling out of the station. It stopped to allow several cars to go by, and Casewell leapt from his truck, leaving it running, to hurry across the pavement and pound on the door. A surprised driver slid the door open.
“You about missed us,” he said. Casewell
jumped up the steps in one bound and scanned the seats.
“Take a seat. I’m already running late.” The driver sounded a little testy.
“I’m looking for someone—”
“I don’t have time for your looking. Sit down or get off.”
Casewell didn’t see Perla or Sadie. “Sorry,” he said to the driver, backing down the steps, eyes roving among the seats. “Maybe I’ve got the wrong bus.”
The driver grumbled something unintelligible and closed the doors in Casewell’s face with a whoosh of air.
He told himself it was the wrong bus. He told himself Perla was almost certainly inside the station. He shut off his truck, then walked toward the front door, trying to move fast while still taking in every inch of his surroundings. Another bus sat off to the side, but it was clearly empty. He headed on into the station. If she was still here, he would not miss her.
The euphoria of Casewell’s proposal had worn off all too soon. Who was she trying to fool? He was a good man and she didn’t deserve him. He would marry her because he was the kind of man who would never go back on his word. But he would live to regret it. She wanted his love, craved it. But now that he had offered it to her, she realized how impossible it would be to accept it. She was a fool, but that was nothing new.
She closed her eyes and remembered how it had felt to cry in Casewell’s arms. His hands were so strong against her back, and even as the tears flowed, she had felt a shiver of pleasure at his touch. Opening her eyes, Perla admonished herself. She had allowed her feelings to overcome her good sense before. She wasn’t going to let that happen again.
After leaving Casewell, Perla went back to the house and for an hour or two floated on air. But then the reality of the situation gradually became clear. She couldn’t marry Casewell. He was a pillar of the community, and she was a fallen woman. People who had been less than welcoming before would be downright angry if she married one of their own. She could hear their voices accusing her of using feminine wiles to trick Casewell into marrying her just to give her child a father.
She needed to make plans, but she couldn’t discuss them with anyone. Delilah tried to draw her out, but Perla insisted she was fine, just thinking about the return trip to her family. Although she had originally planned to leave the following Monday, Perla realized she needed to go immediately. It would be too hard to see Casewell again, knowing that she could not marry him. Pretending with him would be harder than leaving him.
That night she waited for Sadie to fall asleep and then waited another hour for good measure. She eased out of bed and quietly packed their things. They didn’t have much—clothes, her Bible and a devotional book, Sadie’s few toys. When she reached for the doll furniture Casewell had made, tears burned the backs of Perla’s eyes. She knelt on the floor and cradled the little chair in her lap. His hands had touched the wood, had shaped it and smoothed it and stained it. The time and love he had put into a simple toy gave Perla pause. Maybe . . . but no. She could not condemn him to life with an adulteress. She would leave him because she loved him too much to stay.
The next morning Perla got up early. She went to the store with Robert and waited, knowing Frank stopped in almost every morning to drink coffee and talk to anyone around. If no one was around he joked that he could always visit with his books. He came in five minutes after Robert unlocked the front door.
“Am I too early for coffee?” Frank asked. “Something made me want to get down here early this morning.”
Perla tried to smile. Surely that was a sign she was doing the right thing.
“Let me get you a cup,” she said. “Robert’s in the storeroom, but he’ll be along in a minute.”
“Well, I’d rather have coffee from the hand of a pretty woman any day. Join me?”
“Sure.” Perla’s hand shook as she poured the coffee into two thick mugs. She usually added enough sugar to fight the bitter, but this morning she sipped her coffee black. Penance, maybe.
“Frank, I need a favor.” She’d tried to think of a way to introduce the topic naturally but figured direct was best.
“I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”
“Will you drive Sadie and me to the bus station over in Parson Springs?”
“Surely. When are you needing to go?”
“As soon as possible. Now, if you’re able.”
“Now? I’d heard you were talking about going home, but I didn’t realize you were in a hurry.”
“Something’s come up and I need to go. Dragging things out . . . well, it’s not good for anyone.”
“I hate to be the one to help you leave, but I’ve got no other plans.” He thumped his nearly empty coffee mug down and slapped his knees. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Thank you. I’ll let Robert know we’re leaving, and we can go pick up Sadie and our luggage.”
Perla disappeared into the storeroom and came back out almost immediately. “All right, let’s go.”
Perla was pleased to find a bus leaving for Ohio that morning. Her family was in central West Virginia. She would not return to them. She would travel north until she found work. She could clean houses, keep children—she’d even cook if she had to. She had a little money that her parents had given her when she came to Wise. At the time, it had felt like hush money. While it wouldn’t take her far, she hoped it would take her far enough.
Sadie was enthralled with the ticket man’s mustache. He seemed equally taken with Sadie and gave her a peppermint drop.
“Where are you headed, missy?” the man asked.
Sadie piped up. “North, but we’re not excited about it.”
“Ah, well.” The man seemed reluctant to pry, which made Perla grateful. “Not all travel can be for pleasure.” He looked at Perla and nodded. “Hope everything turns out well for you, ma’am.”
In that moment, Perla had the oddest feeling that everything would turn out well. But as the day progressed, her doubts mounted. Sadie, normally docile and easy to manage, wanted to run up and down the aisle of the bus. She whined when Perla made her sit and complained about being hungry, tired, and bored. Perla felt exasperated and done in by the trials of the day. When Sadie finally fell asleep with her head in Perla’s lap inside the station during a short layover to change buses, Perla caught herself dozing a bit, as well. She jerked awake with a start and looked around as if she’d been caught stealing. Sleeping in public. How mortifying.
Glancing at the clock on the wall across the room, Perla panicked. It was after the time her bus was supposed to leave. Scooping up Sadie, she ran for the door. The bus was gone. A man behind the ticket counter called out to her.
“Was that your bus? I seen you get off earlier, but I thought you was back on there.”
“My bag is on that bus. What do I do?” Perla almost wailed the question.
“Easy now. They’s another bus headed the same way in fifteen minutes. Two lines come acrost of one another here and go the same road for a piece. I’ll do you up a new ticket. Where was you headed?”
“Pittsboro.”
“Oh, that’ll be fine, then. Might get there later than you planned, but you’ll get there all right. I’ll call up to Camden, and they’ll hold your luggage.”
“Thank you.” Perla fought tears.
“Now, none of that. I got a girl about the size of that ’un.” He pointed at Sadie with his chin. “Only glad I can help.”
The later bus meant she would arrive in Pittsboro after ten o’clock. The ticket man gave her the name of a boardinghouse that was likely to have a room. “Cheap but clean,” he called it. Perla said a prayer and climbed aboard another bus.
Thankfully, Sadie slept all the way to Camden, where there would be a long wait. Perla decided she wouldn’t even get off the bus this time. She wasn’t taking any chances on missing a ride again. When the bus pulled into the station in Camden, Sadie stirred but didn’t wake. Perla leaned back against the window and cradled her daughter in her arms. They were beginning a
new life. She tried to see it as an opportunity.
Staring out the window, Perla saw a man who looked very much like Casewell stick his head out the front door of the bus station and look around. He ducked back inside before she got much more than a general impression of him. She turned firmly away from the window. She would not start imagining things. She had come too far to have second thoughts now.
24
CASEWELL DIDN’T FIND PERLA inside the station. He asked if anyone had seen a woman traveling with a child, but no one had. Could she have changed routes? Did she not get off the bus and just keep going? He learned that the bus she was on had left about ten minutes before he arrived, but the ticket agent was certain there hadn’t been a woman and child traveling alone. Where could she be? Casewell sat. He paced. He went outside and looked around. He had a terrible feeling that Perla had somehow disappeared into thin air. But that was impossible.
He approached the ticket man with the slicked-back hair at the counter again. He thought the man looked a little annoyed, but he didn’t care.
“Look here,” the man said as Casewell stepped up to the counter. “I ain’t seen ’em. Don’t tell me some sob story about your woman running off, neither. Odds are if she run off she had a good reason.”
Casewell felt like he’d been dashed with cold water. Did she have a good reason? And then an odd sort of assurance washed over him.
“That’s not it,” he said to the man. He read the nameplate on the counter. “Harold, it’s like this. She had a child even though she didn’t have a husband. I want to marry her, and she’s running off because she thinks she’ll bring shame on me. But I love her. And I intend to find her no matter how far she goes.”
The man sniffed and lifted his nose slightly. “Huh. Guess it’s up to you, but I wouldn’t want no other man’s leavings.”
Miracle in a Dry Season Page 21