John-Boy nodded. It was true the Baldwin sisters very seldom drove anywhere.
“Now, the problem, John-Boy, is that I find myself temporarily without ready funds. All my cash, unfortunately, is tied up in foreign banks, trust funds, securities of a various nature, things like that. I’m sure you’re familiar with the liquidity problems of high finance. In any case, should it be needed, I deem it essential that medical care be available within minutes for my cousins. The Baldwins, you may not be aware, have a fragile bloodline. And for that reason, John-Boy, a battery must be secured for their car with the utmost haste.”
“I really don’t have any money to be lendin’ you, Cousin Homer.”
“Ah, dear boy, such an imposition on our short friendship would never enter my mind. ‘Neither a lender nor a borrower be’ has been my constant and unswerving financial credo. No, what I’m askin’, John-Boy, is a far simpler thing. I want you to do no more than secure a new battery from Mr. Ike Godsey, whom I understand is the proprietor of the local mercantile establishment, and charge it to the account of the Baldwin sisters. This is something I would never consider, John-Boy, unless I were convinced that it was necessary for their own health and welfare. And have no fear, there is every indication that my financial position will become far more liquid in the near future. At that time I will personally settle the bill with Mr. Godsey, and the battery will thus become a gift from me to my dear cousins, and will be given with my blessin’s and best wishes. However, in order for me to attend to my affairs—sign papers, consult with my bankers, that sort of thing—I shall be required to journey into Charlottesville and perhaps Richmond. I am sure you can appreciate that, John-Boy.”
John-Boy nodded. He saw no reason for Cousin Homer circling around the tree ten or twelve times before he made the request to charge the car battery. Miss Emily and Miss Mamie probably wouldn’t give it a second thought. But John-Boy did see the reason why Homer was so concerned about making trips to Charlottesville and having a car ready to go at a moment’s notice. Dependable transportation would be very handy if Sheriff Bridges came looking for him.
“I’m not sure Ike Godsey has any batteries at the store,” John-Boy said.
Cousin Homer’s face darkened. “Ahhh, that possibility I failed to consider. However, I’m sure you could have him order it. Or better still, if you could drive to Charlottesville in your truck?”
“I don’t think I could do that. And I don’t expect the Baldwin sisters have credit accounts down there.”
“Yes, I see your point. Well, I would greatly appreciate it, John-Boy, if you would have Mr. Godsey take care of the matter as hastily as possible. And have no doubt, my boy, in the endeavor there will be a small gratuity for your services. Say, five dollars if the battery is here within the next two days?”
“That won’t be necessary, Cousin Homer.” His mother was disturbed enough without his taking money from a bootlegger.
“You’re a fine lad, John-Boy. And by the way, you might increase the order for mason jars by another six dozen. I had no idea the ladies were goin’ to send out so many invitations.”
After Cousin Homer left, John-Boy chopped the rest of the wood, wondering if he should report the conversation to Sheriff Bridges. With a new battery in the Baldwin sisters’ car, Homer just might load up with Recipe and disappear in the middle of the night. And the theft of all the Recipe would probably be disastrous for the ladies’ family reunion.
John-Boy carried the wood inside and found Miss Mamie and Miss Emily in the parlor. But just inside the door he stopped short and caught his breath.
Standing in the middle of the room, Jenny Pendleton was wearing a long hoopskirted dress covered with yellow ribbons. In her hand she had a matching parasol, and a huge picture hat extended below her shoulders. John-Boy had seen pictures of southern belles in the Civil War era, but none of them looked so beautiful as Jenny.
The Baldwin sisters were smiling with delight, and Jenny twirled lightly around, revealing some kind of ruffled pantaloons on her legs.
“You like it, John-Boy?”
“Yes,” he choked.
“Doesn’t she look just lovely,” Miss Emily sighed. “That’s the dress I was wearin’ when Ashley Longworth kissed me under the maple tree.”
“And our grandmother wore it at a reception for General Robert E. Lee almost seventy-five years ago.”
“And we want Jenny to wear it at our family reunion!”
Jenny blushed and looked helplessly at John-Boy. The dress was beautiful, but not exactly the kind of thing young girls wore these days.
“It’s sure the prettiest dress I ever saw,” John-Boy said.
“And we think Jenny is the prettiest girl in all of Walton’s Mountain, and that she should wear it. Don’t you agree, John-Boy?”
“If Ashley Longworth is coming,” Jenny said, “I think you should wear the dress, Miss Emily.”
Miss Emily smiled shyly and gave her sister a cautious glance. “Oh, I don’t think Ashley would remember. And the dress is for someone young and gay. For someone who’s expectin’ to be courted.”
“I think the dress would look real nice on you, Miss Emily.”
“Do you really think so, John-Boy?”
Miss Mamie was gazing wistfully at the dress as if her thoughts were on the happier days of grand parties and handsome young men. She took a long breath and looked firmly at Emily. “Sister,” she said with sudden decisiveness, “I agree with Jenny and John-Boy. You should wear the dress.”
Miss Emily gasped and then looked hesitantly at each of them, as if to reassure herself of their sincerity. They were all smiling, waiting for her decision.
“Well,” she murmured, “I . . . I suppose I could wear it. I mean, if y’all really think . . .” Her eyes suddenly glistened and she fumbled for a handkerchief. “I just don’t know. I mean if . . . I’m just not sure it still fits.”
“Of course it’ll fit.” Miss Mamie smiled. “And you’ll look lovelier than ever in it!”
Miss Emily blew hard into the handkerchief. But she still had trouble getting words out. “You’ll all just . . . have to excuse me.” She laughed weakly. “I just don’t know what’s come over me all of a sudden. It’s just the strangest thing . . .” She suddenly rose and hurried from the room.
Ike Godsey was busy with two other customers when John-Boy brought in the invitations for mailing. Mrs. Merrill was at the counter, placing her purchases in a basket while Ike toted up her bill, and the other woman, Mrs. Latham, was at the rear. John-Boy’s attention went immediately to Mrs. Latham.
Clay Latham was one of the few people in Walton’s Mountain who had a regular job. He had once been a foreman at the soapstone plant down in Charlottesville, but since so many men had been laid off he now operated a cutting machine. But he had a steady check coming in every week, and what alarmed John-Boy was that Mrs. Latham was now gazing thoughtfully at the used washing machine in the back corner. John-Boy set the envelopes in front of Ike’s post-office cage and hurried back.
“Hello, John-Boy.” Mrs. Latham smiled.
John-Boy nodded. “Mrs. Latham.”
Once he was at her side, John-Boy didn’t know exactly what to do. Mrs. Latham touched the wringer mechanism, ran her fingers along the rollers, and drew back her hand.
“That’s a right old machine, Mrs. Latham. Secondhand, you know.”
“Not many people can afford new ones these days, John-Boy.”
“I expect so, but sometimes buyin’ old ones costs more fixin’ ’em up than new ones’d cost.”
“Yes. But Clay’s very good at fixin’ things.”
“If you can get parts. Sometimes the right parts are hard to find.”
Mrs. Latham nodded vaguely and lifted the lid from the tub. “Well,” she sighed and replaced it, “I expect I’d better talk to Clay ’bout it first. Nice-lookin’ machine, though.”
To John-Boy’s relief she smiled at him and moved away. Mrs. Merrill was finished at the
counter and the two women went out the door together.
“What can I do for you, John-Boy?”
“I’d sure appreciate it, Ike, if you’d put a sign on that machine sayin’ it’s sold.”
Ike laughed. “There’s a slight difference between sold and a down payment, John-Boy.”
John-Boy pulled a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket. “Look-a-here, Ike. Five more dollars to add to the dollar I already paid.”
“Fine. And I’ll give you a receipt. Nineteen more dollars and I’ll put a sold sign on it.”
“Fourteen more, Ike. The price was twenty dollars.”
“Was it twenty? Yep, I guess you’re right. You’re a sharp trader, John-Boy.”
“And I want a hundred and twenty-seven three-cent stamps.” John-Boy brought out three dollars and eighty-one cents from another pocket.
“Go ’long.” Ike glanced at the envelopes. “Whatcha got over there? You startin’ one o’ them chain letters or somethin’?”
“They’re for the Baldwin sisters’ reunion. They’ve invited every Baldwin in the country.”
“Okay, I’ll get you the stamps. But I just sell ’em, John-Boy, I don’t lick ’em. And the mason jars is in. You wanta take ’em with you?”
“I’ll get ’em in the mornin’. And there’s somethin’ else. Cousin Homer Lee wants me to pick up another six dozen jars. And do you have a battery that’ll fit the Baldwin sisters’ car?”
“Sure do. They ask you to pick one up?”
“Well, not exactly. Cousin Homer Lee wants it.”
Ike nodded. “Cousin Homer wants it, eh? He give you the money for the extra jars and the battery?”
“No. He wants ’em charged to the Baldwins’ account.”
“I see.” Ike frowned and carefully counted stamps. “John-Boy, it don’t make no difference to me about chargin’ more jars and a battery to the Baldwins. I know they’ll pay. But knowin’ what I know, I got a feelin’ Ep Bridges might wanta know about them extra jars. And he might not be too partial to the idea of the Baldwin sisters’ car bein’ in good operatin’ condition. What d’ya think?”
John-Boy smiled. “I was kinda thinkin’ the same thing. Will you tell the Sheriff?”
“Glad to. He oughta be in for a game of pool pretty soon. He might like the idea of keepin’ Cousin Homer Lee bottled up out there for a while with no transportation. I’ll let you know what he says in the mornin’.”
On the way home John-Boy made a slight detour past Jenny’s house. He’d said goodnight to her earlier, when they walked home from the Baldwins. But he already missed her.
For several minutes he stood in front of the house, watching, seeing nothing behind the closed curtains. But knowing she was inside was enough. He finally smiled and turned away.
“Hey, John-Boy.” His father smiled when he got home. “We gonna have the honor of your company for supper tonight?”
John-Boy laughed, realizing he had been late or missed supper entirely for the last three days. His father was heading for the barn to milk the cow.
“You want me to do that for you, Daddy?”
“Be glad for your company.”
John-Boy got the milking stool and waited until his father poured some mash in the feeding trough. Chance had strong opinions about people paying for her services. No food in the trough meant no messing around with her milk supply.
“You ever see such a fine day as today?” John-Boy asked idly.
John Walton gave the boy an amused glance. He didn’t remember John-Boy ever taking much interest in the weather before. “It was uncommonly pretty. Looks like spring is here to stay.”
“I reckon spring is about my favorite season of the year, Daddy.”
“It’s a fair time.”
After he finished pouring mash, John leaned on the railing and watched the boy milk the cow. The dreamy look in John-Boy’s eyes suggested he was thinking about more than the weather.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, son?”
“You ever been in love?”
“Yep. Still am.”
“How’d you know it was love? I mean, when it first hit you.”
“Scared me to death.”
John-Boy gaped at him. “Scared you to death?”
“Scared me that maybe she didn’t feel the same way.”
“How was that?”
“The way it still is. The first face that comes into my mind when I wake in the mornin’. The face I carry into sleep each night. A feelin’ that never stops of needin’ her, and bein’ needed.”
John-Boy’s face brightened. “Lordee, don’t I know!”
“You and Jenny, huh?”
John-Boy turned back to his work, blushing. “You like her, Daddy?”
“She’s a sweet little girl.”
“You think Mama likes her?”
“I can’t see any reason why not.”
John-Boy seemed satisfied with that. “Jenny loves it here,” he said after a minute. “She says you and Mama are the finest people she ever met. She says she could just hug Elizabeth to pieces.”
John Walton smiled. “I think you got about all you’re goin’ to get outa that cow, John-Boy.”
Chance had twisted her head, glaring at John-Boy, apparently having the same thought.
VIII
John-Boy had not expected his euphoric relationship with Jenny to become the topic of discussion at the Walton supper table—at least not ten minutes after he had revealed the secret to his father. But as quickly as he washed his hands and came to the table, he sat down before an audience of hushed, staring faces. Some were smiling, others gaped openly, while his mother and father, it seemed, were doing their best to avoid showing any expression at all.
“What’s the matter?” John-Boy asked as the food was passed.
That triggered suppressed laughter from Mary Ellen and Ben. Then the other children joined in.
“Why you all laughin’? Somebody swallow some giggle water?”
Apparently this was funnier yet, and Erin could hold it no longer. As if it were the most incredible thing in the world, she asked, “Are you in love, John-Boy?”
“Daddy said you were,” Jim-Bob grinned.
“Daddy said you’ve really got it bad,” Jason added. “Is it true, John-Boy?”
“Now, children,” Olivia cautioned.
And then Elizabeth broke the tension, even bringing a smile to John-Boy’s reddening face. With a look of awed concern she asked, “Does it hurt, John-Boy?”
Until that moment John-Boy had a feeling of being betrayed. His father must have made the announcement the minute he sat down at the table. But there was no sign of ridicule in the circle of grinning faces. Grandpa was beaming, his mother and father were smiling sympathetically, and the others had looks of wonder or curious interest. Mostly, John-Boy guessed, he was glad the secret was out. Still he felt he had to play the game.
“What’d you have to go and tell everybody for, Daddy?”
His father’s grin indicated he had no regrets about what he had done. “Why, John-Boy, when two young people fall in love, I don’t see why it ought to be a secret. Seems to me instead of whisperin’ it, somebody ought to shoot off Roman candles or sing a Hallelujah chorus! Don’t you think so, Grandpa?”
“Ought to be dancin’ on the rooftops, I’d say!”
“Well,” Grandma sighed, “you two can sing Hallelujah choruses and dance on the roof if you want. I’m goin’ to eat my supper!”
“Old woman,” Grandpa challenged, “where’s your spirit of romance?”
“Hah! Look who’s talkin’! When was the last time you kissed me?”
The pressure was clearly off of him now, and John-Boy smiled. Then they all laughed as Grandpa promptly responded. He put an arm around her, pulled her close, and planted a big kiss on her mouth.
“You old fool!” she said and pulled herself away. “Now, will someone please pass the gravy?”
The next two days were a glorious
time for John-Boy. He and Jenny took another hike to the mountain and discovered new meadows and springs and shaded glens. And they discovered each other.
Jenny told him about her life in St. Petersburg and the terrible feelings of fear and emptiness she had experienced after her mother’s death. She and her father had become very close after that, and when Eula came along Jenny hated her and resented every minute she took of her father’s time. The remarkable thing about it, Jenny observed now, was how kind and patient Eula had been through it all. It was Eula, more than her father, who insisted that Jenny participate in everything they did. And while Jenny did everything in her power to break up the relationship, Eula responded only with love and kindness. It must have been terrible for her father. And when they finally married, Jenny’s running away was more of a gift to them than it was an act of anger or frustration. She was ashamed of her behavior during the previous year and thought there was nothing better she could give them for a wedding present than some time to themselves. But even that, she now realized, was foolish.
However, that was all in the past. They were a family now, and they could talk and laugh about the silly things all of them had done through that difficult time. Jenny and Eula seemed to grow closer every day, and Jenny could no longer imagine a life without her new stepmother.
John-Boy told her about his hopes of going to college and becoming a writer. He was not certain how either of these dreams was going to be transformed into reality, but there was no doubt in either of their minds that the obstacles would be overcome. While they sat by a bubbling spring or lay back and closed their eyes to the burning sun, John-Boy talked about travels to Tasmania and Fiji and Micronesia, and Jenny suggested that when they went to bed each night all of their children would call out “Goodnight” to each other. They would see Barcelona and Istanbul and Athens, John-Boy reflected, and Jenny said she would cook and clean and care for their children the way John-Boy’s mother did. And while John-Boy was writing his books the whole family would sit and watch his face and be completely silent.
They marveled at the fact that only a few days before neither of them even knew the other existed. But now their love for each other was the most enduring thing in each of their lives.
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