Earthly Vows

by Patricia Hickman

  “You warm up the swing,” she said. “I’ll check to see if Sybil needs kitchen help.”

  He left her jacket on the sofa back. Chilly air moved in over Oklahoma City. The clouds partially overtook the sun cooling the air even more than the morning. Jeb swung, closing his eyes, listening to the women laughing over the stove, dipping fish into egg, and then cornmeal, as they schemed in the absence of men. Sybil’s voice rose higher, the longer she spoke. Fern was a good listener, adding to Sybil’s prattle, tossing in a “sure” or a “you don’t say” between her tightly packed content.

  “Have you met my friend Anna Baer?” she asked.

  His toe dropped, stopping the swing’s movement.

  “She’s Senator Baer’s wife. I haven’t had the pleasure,” said Fern.

  “We both attended the university in Oklahoma together, in Norman. That’s where she met Walt. He actually introduced Rodney and me.”

  Jeb kept the swing perfectly still to quiet the rusted chain.

  “We were silly back then. But when Walt set up his law practice and Rodney his doctor’s office here in the same city, well, you can imagine. We were like sisters. Still are.”

  “She’s sick, I hear,” said Fern.

  “I take her a meal every night. Walt’s so busy at the capitol. She lives two blocks from here.”

  “How sick is she?” asked Fern.

  “Cancer.”

  There was no noise at all, only the knifing sound the Latino cook made chopping potatoes.

  “Sybil, I’ll go with you tonight,” said Fern. “I’m not doing anything else and I need to make myself useful. Between this wedding and this girl of ours gone missing, I’m a mess.”

  “What girl, Fern?”

  Jeb came up off the porch swing. Surely, Fern did not mean that she would go to Walton Baer’s home. He was not principled. If he were, he’d be seeing to his wife and not so dependent on Sybil. He wouldn’t have followed Fern up on the roof of the Skirvin Hotel. He was not a man to be trusted. Jeb went inside. He found the women still talking about Angel.

  “I’m sorry, Jeb,” said Fern, her tone light and rather cheerful. She told Sybil, “I was supposed to meet him out on the porch swing.” She and Sybil giggled.

  Jeb said, “Fern, I’m starting to worry about Ida May. You know she’s distraught over her sister and I’m thinking you and I ought to go home and see to her.”

  “Angel is Ida May and Willie’s sister. I understand now,” said Sybil.

  “We’ve already got supper started, Jeb,” said Fern. “Willie is plenty old enough to look after her anyway. She’ll be fine.” Fern dried her hands. She walked Jeb back into the living room out of Sybil’s hearing. “Are you all right? You wanted me to be here tonight, didn’t you?” She was smiling at him, tugging at the apron Sybil gave to her.

  “Of course I want you here,” he lied.

  “I think it’s getting too cold out for porch swinging. Why don’t you take a seat by Sybil’s fireplace? I’ll bring you coffee, you’ll relax. You look tired.”

  He sat near the fireplace. Fern joined Sybil back in the kitchen. She was making do the best she could, he thought, and he wasn’t making it any easier. The thought came to him that he had called this arrangement heavensent.

  16

  NASH BROUGHT TWO DRESSES FROM THE rack, holding one in front of Angel as she looked into a mirror. After they checked out of the motel across the street, he stopped to fuel up. Inside the filling station was a ladies’ dress shop, “Madam’s Bouteek” by name. The outdoor sign overhead read MISTER’S FUEL.

  A husband and wife sat behind a short counter, sharing a smoke. She gave the fag back to him and got off her stool. “I got a room in the back, miss, if you’d like to try on a few outfits.”

  Nash handed her the dresses.

  Angel followed the proprietor to the back of the store. She pulled back a curtain that hung over a broom closet and turned on a naked bulb overhead by a string. “If you need another size, let me know. I’m Sue.”

  Angel slipped out of her skirt. Her stomach was still growling. She had worn the skirt for two days, saving the better clothes in her bag for better days. The new cloth was thin as silk, smooth and blue. It fell over her bust and hips, the skirt long and touching her calves. She buttoned it up the front and then stepped out to see herself again in the mirror.

  Nash whistled. “That’s a different woman than the girl that went in.”

  “Honey, it’s made for you,” said Sue. “Raglan sleeves, blue crepe, the length is perfect for your height.”

  “We’ll take it,” said Nash.

  Angel checked the price tag. “It’s four dollars,” she said.

  “Special sale today, three-fifty,” said Sue.

  “Can she wear it out of here?” asked Nash.

  “Not with those shoes,” said Sue. “Come see.”

  She called two shelves near the storefront window the shoe shop, one row of black, one of white. She gave Angel a chair handing her one shoe after another until she found a fit. “You’re a size five,” said Sue. “Stand up, so your mister can get the full effect.”

  Angel had not seen herself quite so fully grown before. “I like how the fabric feels against me, kind of soft.” She felt older after seeing herself.

  “You got any ladies’ coats?” asked Nash.

  She showed Angel three on a rack of otherwise empty clothes hangers. The first one, she held in front of Angel. “Gray-and-blue plaid, all the rage. The other two have a fox collar, pricey.”

  “The plaid is fine,” said Angel. Before she could slip it on, Nash was holding out the fox collar coat.

  “That’s thirty-nine-fifty, hon,” said Sue.

  “Try it on, girlie,” said Nash.

  “I like the plaid,” said Angel.

  “Have you ever tried on fur?” he asked.

  “I don’t need it,” said Angel. She buttoned up the plaid.

  “For fun. Just try it,” he said.

  The clerk backed away.

  Angel put the plaid coat back on the hanger. “I don’t want fur, Nash.” She’d feel a fool, like she was playacting.

  He stood between Angel and the clerk. He mouthed, “Don’t say my name.” He was pushy and getting on her nerves. She extended her arms behind her. Nash slid the fox coat over her arms. She turned and looked in the mirror. It was Fern all over.

  “Hotsytotsy, babe,” said Nash. “We’ll take the fox, there, Sue, is it?”

  Angel handed the coat to Sue and trudged back to the changing room.

  Sue boxed up the coat and her old clothes. Nash paid out.

  Angel ran out into the cold and climbed into the car. She was quiet as they drove away. Nash was even more talkative than he was the first night. Spending money was his whiskey.

  “I noticed you had a roll of bills in your pocket,” she said. “Was that your pay from the ‘job’ this morning?”

  “Money well-earned. You got to learn to look out for yourself, Angel. First off, don’t be saying my name all over the place. You didn’t hear me blabbing yours. Second, you want respect, you got to dress respectable.” He pulled into a restaurant parking lot, a mom-and-pop steakhouse. The window sign advertised choice cuts. Nash got a hat out of the car trunk and placed it at an angle. The air was brisk. He pulled out the new coat while he was at it, holding it open. She met him at the rear of the car and he slipped the coat sleeves over her arms. “I laid out the dough, may as well put it on, babe. Look at you, very chic, very chic.” He said it like the bird. He was making her blush, though, making over her. The collar rose to her neck. Nash gave her a lesson on how to make the fox bite its tail to hold the collar closed. There was a handgun in the trunk. He closed it.

  A hostess met them at the door. “Two for lunch?”

  Nash held up two fingers, handed her a bill, and said, “See that my friend here is taken care of. She’s had a hard day.”

  The woman told Angel to follow her. She offered her a chair near a w
indow, a table decorated with a rose in a vase, two glasses on the table, one placed in front of Angel, crystal was it? It looked like some of Abigail’s things. A waiter filled the water glass. Nash sat next to her. He pulled out a cigar. The waiter gave her a menu. Nash winked and mouthed, “Respect.”

  Angel wanted everything, the steak cut-to-perfection, the potatoes seasoned in butter, the fresh greens. “I need something now,” she told the waiter. “Is that possible?”

  “Calm yourself, they’re not going to run out of food, girlie.”

  “I’ll bring you some bread, miss,” said the waiter. He disappeared into the kitchen.

  “You ever been hungry, Nash? I mean, where you don’t know if you’ll get to eat again?”

  “You’re not the only one that’s seen hard times, Angel.”

  “It scares me. To this day, I get so scared like I’m afraid I’ll die of hunger. Except that’s not what I’m really afraid of.”

  “What scares you?”

  “Everybody knowing that I starved to death.”

  The waiter appeared. Nash ordered them two steak dinners. A bread plate was set in front of her. She bowed her head, a habit.

  “Let us pray,” said Nash. He bowed his head.

  “Don’t poke fun,” she said, the right side of her mouth lifting.

  “I’m respecting you, that’s all.” He closed his eyes.

  “God, thank you for the food we’re about to eat. Please keep Ida May and Willie safe and be sure Willie keeps up with his arithmetic. Help Ida May not to cry. Amen.”

  GANGLAND STYLE ROBBERY

  RACKS SMALL-TOWN BANK!

  GET YOUR OKLAHOMAN, READ ALL ABOUT IT!

  Jeb dropped a dime in the newspaper boy’s hand. The kid sold papers on the street corner Saturdays, a block up from the parsonage. A couple walked past, out for a stroll. One delivery boy rode his bike past, a sack of groceries in his bicycle basket. Jeb snapped open the newspaper. A bank in Yukon had been robbed. A neighbor was raking leaves out front. Jeb asked him, “You know anything about Yukon?”

  “Small town, west of here. Nice place.”

  “You know anything about the robbery?” he asked.

  “Some guy trying to take Dillinger’s place, I’ll grant you.”

  “Doesn’t say who,” said Jeb.

  “One day, the FBI’ll catch them. They’ll get what’s coming to them.”

  “Shame these small towns are getting hit,” said Jeb.

  “Oklahoma City’s been hit too. No one’s safe anymore.”

  Fern pulled up, parking out front. Jeb did not know what happened last night after he left, after she joined Sybil to visit Anna.

  “You were right,” she said. “About staying too far away. I’ve missed you.”

  He felt her skin, her cheek. “You’re cold. Let’s go inside.”

  She kissed him the instant the door closed.

  “Whoo!” said Ida May. She was holding a doll, standing in the hall outside the kitchen. “Jeb and Miss Fern is sparking, Willie. Come see!”

  Jeb told her to go back in the kitchen and finish her grits. He kissed Fern again. “I’ve missed you too. Tell me again why the wedding’s in December.”

  “Abigail needs time.”

  “To invite all of the relations, I know. You taste good.” He caught his reflection in the mirror. His eyes had dark circles beneath them. “You always look good in the morning. I look lousy. You sure you want to wake up to this mug every morning?”

  “Every day except the eighth.”

  “How was Anna?”

  “Thin, weak. I’ve never seen a woman as sick as her.”

  “Was her husband around?”

  She looked toward the kitchen, took off her jacket. She wanted to sit down, she said, so Jeb sat next to her on the sofa. “Walt came in after we gave Anna a bath.”

  “You bathed her?”

  “She was so grateful. People walk on eggshells around her. She was grateful for not just our company, but the attention.”

  “Did Walton, did he say much?”

  “Why you want to keep bringing up Walt?”

  “No reason.”

  “I’ve never met a woman with so much humility,” said Fern.

  “Anna, you mean?”

  “Yes, and she is so sad she’s never had a baby. Said Walt wanted a big family. We let her cry a good while.”

  “Does Anna know that you and Walt, you know, once dated?”

  “You can’t ever say that to anyone, Jeb. Ever.”

  “People date, Fern. Who doesn’t have an old flame they run into at some time in life? I don’t see what it matters.”

  “Promise you’ll not bring it up, not to anyone in that family, in that church. Anna says her father-in-law is one of your deacons. Especially not to him.”

  “Want to tell me why?”

  She was looking around her, not straight at him.

  Ida May was finished with her breakfast, wanting Fern to comb out her braids. Fern took her into her arms. “You’re old enough to fix your own hair, Ida May. Your brother has already outgrown Angel, now look at you. You’re about to do the same.” Her voice had only a slight nervous tremor.

  “Angel is gone,” said Ida May.

  “We’re going to find her,” said Fern. “Don’t you cry now. You’re getting so old, you don’t have to cry about every little thing.”

  “I won’t. I cried last night. I’m finished with that,” said Ida May.

  Fern had the girl rest her shoulders against her knees. She was going to fix her hair. “And then we’ll get dressed for a burger, down at one of those city cafés,” she said.

  Jeb had not seen his first pay yet. “We have some food in the icebox,” he said.

  “My treat,” said Fern. She smiled, walking across the sparse living room, not a care for things like money or last-minute trips to the diner. At least it was a hint of a smile, for Ida May’s sake, it seemed.

  “Can I ask you about Guan-yin?” asked Angel.

  Nash was driving, not saying where they were going, but checking a handwritten note on occasion. “Guan-yin is no one. She changes bedsheets at a boardinghouse.”

  “She sure liked you.”

  “I’m a likeable guy, don’t you know.”

  “Did you sack her?”

  “Watch your tongue, girlie. Didn’t your mother teach you better?”

  “She acted funny around you, don’t you think? Like she was expecting something from you? I’m wrong, maybe.”

  “She was fresh off the boat, overly dependent on the kindness of strangers. Angel, you can’t be dependent on others. One way to wind up, as you say, starving to death. And the whole world doesn’t care, it doesn’t care. Who cares about Guan-yin? Not anyone, not a soul.”

  “Were you kind to her?”

  “She only wanted a silk pillowcase. So I bought her one. Reminded her of home.”

  “That’s all? You bought her a silk pillowcase, no roll in the sack required.”

  “Would you look at that face, you’re jealous.”

  “I’m not. I’m asking you if you slept with her. Did you?” He let out a breath. Then he took his arm and put it around Angel’s shoulder. He pulled her close to him. “You think I’m going to make you pay for that steak dinner?”

  “And the fox coat and the dress, yes, I do.” She laughed. “There’s no free rides.”

  “I’m Nash Foster, future brilliant businessman, chauffeur to Angel Welby. All I want from you is company. I mean, look at me, do I look like a guy who has trouble getting dates? I can get a roll in the sack anytime, anywhere. But someone I can talk to, harder to find.”

  “I’m not like Guan-yin. I’m not gullible.”

  “That’s why I like you. But you are like her.”

  “In what way?”

  “Dependent on the kindness of strangers.” He did not sound as though he were trying to be cruel.

  “Not for long. I’m going to be a schoolteacher.”

  “I t
hink those people have to go to school.”

  “I’m going to get back in school. Miss Fern, she’s marrying Jeb, she went to a teachers college. It’s not far from Mrs. Levy’s house, as a matter of fact.”

  “We’re driving farther and farther from that place. How you going to get back?”

  “I’ll work, get a job. Make my own way. Come March, I’ll be eighteen.”

  “How much you figure a schoolteacher makes?”

  “Over a thousand a year. More than my daddy ever made,” she said.

  “Chicken scratch.”

  “How much you make knocking off banks?”

  “Hold your tongue, princess, I’m no thug. I’m only a chauffeur. I don’t know nothing about no holdups.” He had an easy smile.

  A squad car passed them. Angel watched the cop drive past, turn on his lights, and pull a motorist over. “How do you know no one is looking for this car?”

  “The people I work for, they are, what is the word, resourceful. My car is out of the picture, I drive the boss’s car. Guys like him, they like the limelight. They’re not looking for me or my car.”

  “How much you going to make selling suits then? Not too many people buying suits nowadays.”

  “This Depression, it won’t last. Maybe another year. Then I’ll take the money I make off the suit store, buy up shares in the railroad. Trains, they’re here to stay. Now you take your average railroad executive, young, industrious as I am. I’ll make five times what you’ll see as a teacher.”

  “Where you want to live?”

  “Maybe Chicago, not sure I’ve found my city. My feeling is that if you look hard enough, your city will find you.”

  He sure liked to talk. “You ever kill anyone? I saw your gun.”

  “That’s only window dressing. I didn’t mean for you to see it. My uncle, he gave it to me, was afraid I’d need it. But so far, nope.”

  “I’ve been afraid enough to kill someone. Not hungry enough, though,” she said.

  “You want to know the truth?”

  “Nothing but.”

  “I don’t even know how that thing works. I’ve never loaded it.” He drove onto a country lane off the highway.