He found comfort in the sense of things going on even if his fundamental beliefs now stood on shaky grounds. Besides he was anxious for his friends and kin to meet Ange and David.
He was proud of them and wanted everyone who counted to know it.
CHAPTER SIX
They wouldn’t take no for an answer which was why Angie ended up dressed in one of Clemmie’s feed sack dresses and stuck into the front seat of the Nash between Matthew and Clemmie, headed for Wednesday night prayer services at church. The children, including David, were piled together in the back.
No seat belts, but she tried not to worry. They drove slowly over rough dirt roads on the six miles to church and they’d never heard of seat belts.
For the first time since she’d arrived, she was wearing face powder and a touch of the bright red lipstick that Clemmie had loaned her. Clemmie’s shoes were too large, but she wore them anyway since she could hardly show up at church in running shoes that hadn’t been designed yet.
She looked, she knew from vintage pictures she’d seen, much like any housewife from the 1940s in her simple cotton dress, her shoulder-length hair only looking a little more professionally styled than her neighbors.
The church was a small white building across the road from a stone country school on one side and a small grocery-gas store on the other. Sensitized by her situation as a stranger in this strange place and time, she was reluctant to go in and it was helpful that David clung to her right hand and Shirley Kay to her left as they went up shaky stairs to enter the building.
Inside she found about two dozen people already gathered and singing the familiar hymn “Amazing Grace” while a round little woman with white hair played the piano. Strangely the front benches were mostly empty except for three elderly men who occupied the one closest to the pulpit. Everybody else was on the back rows so that Clemmie had to lead them down the aisle to choose seats just in front of the rest of the congregation.
Angie took a seat next to Clemmie and Matthew sat down beside her while David crawled into her lap and Shirley Kay scowled at being left out until Matthew took her on his lap. Danny, Sharon and Anna filled out the rest of the wooden bench.
Angie felt extremely uncomfortable. She just knew everybody was looking at the back of her head and wondering who she was. Worse than that, they probably already knew she was the crazy woman who had showed up at the Harper farm.
She patted David’s back, longing to protect him from such curiosity, but the little boy grinned happily at her. None of this was bothering him.
Angie was not unfamiliar with church. Her family had usually attended Christmas Eve and Easter services as well as a few in between. She loved the beautiful music, the formal services, but this was, of course, different.
The minister, dressed in stripped overalls, his hair in need of a cut, opened the service by welcoming everyone, especially ‘our visitors.’ Now everybody could look openly at Angie and David and the nearest stuck out hands to be shaken, while Clemmie stood to introduce them to the congregation as ‘David’s lady friend and her little brother’ and gave their names.
The minister, who called himself Brother Joe, greeted them as Sister Angie and Brother David. David laughed aloud to be called by this name and Clemmie quietly shushed him.
The congregation, led by a young woman, sang spirited renditions of gospel songs, “I’ll Fly Away,” and “Shall the Circle Be Unbroken,” both of which were vaguely familiar to Angie from long ago days of attending church with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandma still attended church every Sunday, but none of her family routinely went with her, though she never gave up asking.
Angie expected a sermon to follow the singing, but instead Brother Joe stood up to mention several who were ill, injured or had lost loved ones and asked that they be remembered in prayer.
Then he led in a long prayer that was taken up each in his turn by the two men who had been seated near the front with him. The prayers were long and fervent and David began to yawn. “Can we go?” he said in a too loud whisper and Clemmie frowned at him and shook her head.
He’s only a little boy, Angie thought defensively, don’t you have a nursery? She was fairly sure she knew the answer because she saw several small children and even a couple of infants in the congregation when she managed a quick glance at those seated behind them.
What followed was called a time of testimony. One person after another popped up to voice concerns or praise or even to quote a verse of scripture. Older people, especially men, made mini-talks that might last ten or fifteen minutes and were full of platitudes while youngsters were like Sharon, who stood quickly and nervously quoted the ‘For God so loved the world’ passage from John 3:16 in the Bible.
Even six-year-old Anna got nervously to her feet to quote “Jesus wept,” then sat down in embarrassment when she couldn’t remember verse and chapter from the Bible.
Finally Matthew was the last to rise and from a slight stirring around her, Angie gathered this was unusual. “I can’t recall whether it’s from the Bible or someplace else,” he said, “but I keep remembering something about the dawn coming after darkness.” He looked tenderly down at Angie. “For me, I’m real grateful to have Angie back home and safe.”
Angie blinked tears from her eyes. What had she done to bring more pain to this troubled man? Certainly she had no such intention, but she didn’t see any way out of this situation that wouldn’t hurt Matthew.
The service concluded with prayers spoken by one member after another from the gathering, some prayers softly spoken so she could barely hear the words, others long and loud and fervent in a style that made David squirm on her lap.
When it was over friends and neighbors clustered around the Harpers to be introduced to their guests with a friendliness she found excessive and even suspect. She supposed a whole lot of doubt beyond the friendliness. Not only was she a question, but to her surprise, she realized Matthew, one of their own, was been watched with intent eyes.
Of course, back here people had less understanding of mental and emotional problems. They probably thought his breakup after coming home from the war, a fairly normal development from what Angie understood, made him likely to run amuck any minute now.
She remembered the names of only two of the people to whom she’d been introduced, a large woman with a soft voice that Clemmie called Aunt Rosie, and a young woman with doe eyes named Evelyn Ann. The first drew her attention because she was so obviously matriarch here, leader of the community, who advised Clemmie on how to treat a mild rash Danny had been experiencing, coal oil and salve—the Adams salve whatever that was. The second caught her notice because she was so obviously moony-eyed about Matthew and Angie found herself feeling as though her territory was being transgressed, then laughed at herself inwardly for feeling possessive of Matthew.
She should be glad there was an Evelyn Ann just waiting to catch Matthew when she dropped him and went home. When she went home . . . she and David, she corrected the thought. She would not leave without her little brother.
Outside again, she found the sky full of stars and the night smelling of sweet clover. Spring, her favorite season, was here and had never been more lovely.
The children chased off in a game of tag with their friends and she didn’t object when Matthew circled her with one arm as they ambled toward the car. She noticed that the sheriff had emerged from the crowd, though she hadn’t seen him earlier, and had drawn Clemmie aside to speak earnestly to her.
Clemmie listened for a moment, then tilted her nose in the air, and stalked daintily away, giving him the cold shoulder.
They drove through a darkness that was the more complete to a woman who lived near the brightness of a city that turned night into a kind of twilight and she thought she saw feral eyes watching from along the sides of the road. Tonight for the first time venturing into the larger world beyond the family, she had felt ho
w alien was the world around her. She had no place among these people. On the most basic level they were so opposite from her. They had grown up with different memories hardwired into their beings.
Their church going seemed embarrassingly simple to her, even naive. The most shocking memory of their lives was the attack on Pearl Harbor, which had disabused them of the idea that Americans were safe behind their oceans, isolated from the conflicts of a larger world.
Her moment of revelation was the attack on the twin towers when she’d realized for the first time that the home land itself was vulnerable and no safety existed anywhere.
They lived in a geographical area where everybody pretty much sounded and looked alike, had a common frame of reference. Where she was from, people from many nations mixed and rarely could come together on a common point of view.
No way did she belong here, but somewhere inside she wanted to weep at that idea. After this, would she ever feel she belonged anywhere?
Grandma’s farm, today or tomorrow, was the fixed point of her existence. Somehow it was home. She was glad when they began to drive over the rough, rutted trail that led to the house.
Shirley Kay had fallen asleep so Matthew lifted her onto his shoulder. David was barely awake, but before Angie could reach for him, Danny had lifted him in skinny arms and staggered toward the house with him.
Clemmie followed the others in, seeming lost in her own thoughts, while Angie stood alone watching the others vanish inside. Terrifyingly she began to see or imagine lighted cracks in the atmosphere around her, glimpses it seemed into other worlds, and once again she wondered if she was losing her mind.
She saw Grandma in her middle years, looking past her as though studying the horizon for a storm. On the other side, she witnessed her cousin once again, and though she couldn’t hear the words, thought she saw on Amanda’s lips her own name. And further on in the distance she saw more vaguely the form of a woman, hardly more than a girl, a dusky-skinned maiden of surpassing beauty who had to be a descendant of one of the native American tribes. Tears trickled down a face that was the mask of tragedy.
Each opening beckoned to her, drew her toward it with such force she could hardly resist. But even though she had only minutes before decided that she did not belong in this place, she fled past those portals, real or unreal, to run into the house, slamming the door behind her and running into Matthew, who had returned after apparently stowing his little niece in her bed.
“Whoa, Ange,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
She pressed against him and felt his arms wrap around her. “They’re trying to take me away,” she whispered.
“Who?” he asked. “Who would take you away?”
“The universe. The world. The balance of time.” She was close to hysterical and, pressing her face against his chest, she barely managed to keep from tears. Then she tore away from him and, ignoring the voice that called after her, went back to the bedroom she shared with David.
Finally she slept, but it was one of those nights where reality met with illusion and throughout the hours she saw cracks of light and scenes of familiar people and places appear around her. She didn’t know what part of it she dreamed, wether she actually witnessed any of those scenes, but when she awakened it was with a heavy feeling of dread. When she reached across the bed and couldn’t find David, then opened her eyes to see she was alone, she came close to panic.
Still in her nightgown she ran from the room, calling his name. In the dining room she was stopped by Matthew, who grabbed her hands and said, “He’s all right, Ange. Clemmie is feeding him breakfast in the kitchen.”
She pulled her hands free and raced into the kitchen where, just as he’d said, David and Shirley Kay as well were peacefully eating cereal. Clemmie looked up to see a wild-eyed Angie still in her nightgown, followed by her brother and frowned.
Getting the message Angie fled to her bedroom and tried to catch her breath.
Nightmares, she told herself. Only nightmares.
Usually Clemmie did her washing on Mondays, but with everything going on she was running behind. The kids were out of school now for the summer, vacation began in early May, so while Danny was sent to the field to help his uncle, the girls went with them to town to do the laundry.
Angie was glad they didn’t have to heat wash water in an iron pot over a fire in the yard, the way Grandma had described earlier family women washing clothes, but after a couple of hours at the Washateria in town, hot and noisy and full of women doing laundry at wringer washing machines, she wondered how much progress had been made.
Though Clemmie was acquainted with several of the other women, the roar of the machines was such that little conversation was attempted. Anna was assigned the chore of looking after Shirley Kay and David, who thought playing tag among the machines was a fun game and were so difficult to contain, that Clemmie released her eldest daughter from laundry duties, sending her to help mind the two younger children.
Angie and Clemmie worked together over the tubs of hot soapy water, blue water and clear rinse water, sending sopping items of clothing through the wringer to alternate tubs.. By the time the end was in sight, Angie felt as though she’d gone through the wringer herself. She was wet from sweat and splashing and exhausted from the back-breaking work. Her head ached from the continual noise.
Between them they carried the baskets of wet wash to the car, then treated the kids to a nickel bottle of pop each. Angie chose a squat bottle of Coke for herself, though it was a considerably shorter bottle than the fruit drinks the kids had. Clemmie had cream soda.
Back in the car, the drive was all too short. Clemmie sent Sharon and Anna inside to feed themselves and the younger children while she and Angie lugged clothes baskets to an outside line. She quickly began to hang clothes by hooking them to the line and to other garments with wooden clothes pins.
Enough wind blew across the farm land, so that the lines were soon full of flapping clothes and Angie could hope that she could rest for the rest of the day.
Apparently it didn’t work that way.
After quick lunch of cold cornbread crumbled into milk and eaten with a spoon, along with freshly sliced tomatoes and iced tea, it was back to work again. “We have a big noon dinner except on wash day,” Clemmie apologized, as she washed dishes while Angie dried.
Then there was sweeping and dusting to do as well as cleaning the bathroom. The younger children were ordered, protesting heavily, to nap back in the bedrooms and Angie would have loved to join them, but hardly felt she could do so when Sharon and Clemmie picked up hoes and headed for the garden. Clemmie made her put on gloves to protect her hands from blistering before she allowed her to take a hoe of her own.
The garden seemed huge to Angie as they weeded row after row, Sharon sometimes had to help her identify which were garden plants and which were undesired weeds.
She began to think longingly of the big farmer’s market in her town back at home where vegetables and fruits could be purchased without all this hard labor. “Don’t Matthew and Danny come in for lunch?” she asked Sharon while they worked side by side.
Sharon looked blank. “We call it dinner,” Clemmie said helpfully. “And in the evening we have supper. Matthew likes to take his dinner with him on wash day. He and Danny will eat right out in the field.”
Even though it was early May, the day was warm enough to bring up a sweat and to make the bonnets that the women wore necessary to protect them from sunburn. Angie had tried to reject hers, but Clemmie insisted she wear it. “You wouldn’t want your skin to get all brown,” she said.
Angie wondered why not. Surely she at least deserved a tan to show for all this hard work and she was sure these people had never heard of the high risk for skin cancer.
Sharon explained that a peaches and cream complexion was highly desired and no girl with any claim to beauty would risk having her sk
in turn dark and leathery looking.
After gardening, the evening chores came next. While Matthew and Danny milked the cows, Clemmie went into the house to make supper while Angie and the younger children, led by Sharon, fed chickens, pigs and calves, a rather time consuming process, and then gathered eggs before closing the chickens in their house, safe from predators for the night.
Matthew looked up from where he was sending the fresh milk through the separator that removed cream from the milk, separating into two streams. The leftover milk would be fed to the animals as the family only drank whole milk while the cream was put in a can to be sold in town on Saturday.
Angie felt like her middle was about to cave in because she was so hungry and hurried to wash her hands and join the others at the dining room table. For supper, they had what seemed more like breakfast: pancakes served with homemade butter and sticky sweet sorghum, thick slices of fried ham, and either sweet milk or buttermilk. To her relief, Angie found that the sweet milk did not boast of added sugar, it simply was the term used for regular milk as opposed to buttermilk, which she would not even think of tasting, but was a popular drink for the rest of them, excepting, of course, David.
Feeling too full from the heavy, calorie laden meal Angie only wanted to collapse in a chair, but such was not the design for living at the Harper household. Matthew took a couple of buckets of the skimmed milk out to the barnyard animals while Danny was sent to draw a bucket of rain water from the cistern. While they did dishes together, Clemmie explained that though they had well water piped in the house, it contained to much gypsum to be drinkable so they still collected water in the old cistern for that purpose.
Sharon had seen to the baths for the younger children while they cleaned the kitchen, and then she and Sharon had taken their own turns, so that by the time she emerged from the kitchen, the children in their nightclothes had assembled in the dining room to listen to the Fibber McGee Show on the radio.
The House Near the River Page 6