"Thank you," Daniel said. "Looks fit for a king."
The woman watched him eat. "You mighty thin. When was the last time you ate?"
He swallowed before replying. "Can't recall. Maybe last night or two days ago. Maybe a month ago."
"My stars!"
Daniel took a bite of sandwich, then picked up the fork and stabbed at a chunk of potato dripping yellow with mustard and mayonnaise. He opened his mouth, shoveled it in and chewed, savoring the sweet pickle flavor.
"After a while, you forget what time and what day it is. You just follow the dusty roads, wearing out your shoes, not thinking about food till you almost pass out."
"They's lot of folks out of work," Anna said. "I'm luckier than some. Mr. and Miz Cornwallis give me a home. Got a little room over the kitchen. Miz Cornwallis is upstairs resting right now. Feeling po'ly she is, and it wouldn't surprise me she's in the family way."
Daniel glanced sideways at her. "That right?"
"Mr. Cornwallis is a banker." She paused a minute. "I shouldn't tell a stranger, should I?"
Anna's face and underarms were damp with sweat. Daniel thought her heavy bosom was likely miserable with prickly heat. LaDaisy always complained about the rash, but a sprinkle of cornstarch brought relief. He wondered if the maid knew about the cornstarch; if she didn't, it wasn't a stranger's business to tell her. He was a handyman, not a peddler of home remedies.
She fanned herself with the tail of her apron and sat on the step watching him eat.
"Whew, hot, ain't it?"
"Fixin' to storm."
"Where you go when it storms?"
"Find me a barn or a shed to stand in till it passes."
"We don't get many bums around here," Anna said. "The missus, she told me not to coddle 'em or they'll keep coming back. But sometimes I don't listen to her."
"Well, I ain't no bum."
"Tramp or hobo, then, they's all the same.
"Nope. Not neither one." Daniel ate some tomato, then shined his plate with a piece of bread from the sandwich. "I'm an honorable man looking for work to care for my family."
"Excuse me." Anna rose and went inside, returning with a tall glass of lemonade.
"Here." She watched him drink almost half a glass before coming up for air. "You got children? How many? You divorced?"
Daniel handed her the empty plate and wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve.
"Nope. Got the best wife a man could want and three little ones."
Young Edward skipped around the corner of the house and tackled an old tire swinging from the oak.
"How they making out with you gone?" asked the woman.
Daniel shrugged. "I ain't there to find out, but better than I am, I hope."
"Why'd you leave?"
Daniel considered the question. "I reckon that's personal, ma'am." He rose and stretched. "Thank ye for the dinner. It'll tide me over till I get to the next weed patch."
"Weeds? You eat weeds?"
"Yup. Dandelions and other greens."
"Be careful what you eat," she said. "You might get poisoned."
"Nah. I only eat what the animals eat. Take cows. Cows won't eat something that'll hurt them."
"You should go back to the city, find some work there."
Daniel shouldered the banjo and grabbed his gunnysack.
"Been to the city already. There's no work. None."
"But—"
"Why did you feed me?" he asked. "The boy said his daddy don't like bums—which I ain't, of course. But why did you feed me?"
"You fixed the screen door and step. Besides, my mama always say not to turn no tramp away. Don't know why I'm telling you this."
"Cause I asked."
"So you did." She sat thinking. "She say a tramp could be Jesus in disguise."
"Is that right?"
"The Bible say when the Lord returns, he'll come like a thief in the night and we won't recanize him. Suppose I turn away a beggar and it's really Jesus?"
Daniel smiled. "I never thought of it that way. It's a nice compliment, but I'm pretty sure I ain't Jesus." He started down the steps and she called him back.
"Wait." Anna stepped back inside and reappeared in a minute. "Here. Take this for you work." She held out a few coins.
"It's mighty nice of you," he said. "But you already paid me with food. I can't take your hard-earned money." He eyed the money, almost licking his chops with hunger for it.
"Go ahead. Take it back to your family."
"Well." He held out his hand and she dropped the coins in. "God bless you, miss. I'd best be going now."
"If you got a lick of sense, you'll go home. No decent man leaves his family and roams all over creation."
She stood on the top step as he reached the ground and turned.
"Yes, yes, I will go home." When I get enough money.
After she went back inside, Edward ran up to him.
"Will you come back to see us again?"
"Well, now, I don't know." Daniel's bowels rumbled. "Say, can you show me where the privy is?"
Edward squinted up at him. "We got one in the house, but tramps can't go in there." He pointed down a brick path. "Over there. It's for the outdoor workers that cut the grass and weed the vegables."
"You don't mind if I use it—?"
He didn't wait for an answer, but hurried down the path and disappeared inside the outhouse—a two-holer, one for the mister, one for the missus. A brand new privy, from the looks of it, freshly dug.
He unhooked his suspenders, dropped his overalls and underwear just in time. A few minutes later he looked for something to wipe with and found a stack of ripped-up newspapers on the seat next to him. He sat for a minute, considering what Anna had said about Jesus and the tramps.
Then a movement in one corner of the outhouse floor caught his eye—a white hen sitting there all nice and quiet.
"Fine place to lay your eggs."
The hen stared at him.
He hitched up his pants and picked up his supplies again. Before opening the privy door, he leaned over and felt underneath the hen. Finding what he was looking for—still warm from her feathers—he put it in his bib pocket. And soon he was on his way down the road, belly full, bowels empty. Purse a little fatter and an egg for tomorrow's breakfast.
Chapter 8
Saul entered through the back porch and set his peck basket on the kitchen table.
"Brought you a few spuds and t'maters." He removed them from the basket one by one and lined them up on the checkered oilcloth. "T'maters ain't doing so good."
"It's still early yet," she said. "Sit down and rest. It's hot."
"Hey?"
She raised her voice. "I said sit and rest. It's hot outside."
"Gonna rain." He hitched up his overalls, went to the water bucket and drank a dipperful of water. "The air's close." He pulled out a chair and sat down.
LaDaisy looked out the window. "It wouldn't surprise me if we didn't get a cyclone."
The old man pulled off his battered straw hat and laid it on a nearby chair.
"Nope, we won't. Sky's the wrong color. We'll get straight winds, no twisters." Saul's shaky voice continued. "But rain? I don't know, maybe a few drops. Not hardly enough to help the crops."
"How do you know?"
"Just do. Sometimes I smell the rain. Other times I get feelings what's going to happen."
Saul had aged considerably during the past year, but he was still spry for age seventy- nine. His nose had sharpened and his ears stuck out like jug handles. His mouth was caving in fast, the more teeth he lost. Without money for a dentist, he extracted his own teeth, almost bleeding to death each time. Sometimes he got lucky and his teeth fell out by themselves, or got stuck in an ear of corn. Daniel used to say his dad didn't know how many teeth he swallowed when he ate roasting ears.
LaDaisy put the tomatoes in a sunny window and the potatoes in the bin underneath the cabinet.
"Thanks for these," she said. "Stay for su
pper?"
Saul arose and put his hat back on. "I reckon not," he said. "They're for you and the kids."
"They're not here. Just Mary and me. The other three are staying over at Rose's tonight. I can make us a good meal with this, you're welcome to stay."
"I reckon not," he said again. "I need to hoe the turnips before it rains."
"If it rains." She shook her head. "It keeps on looking like rain, and the air feels like it. But it won't rain. Everything's dusty. Even the sheets are black when I bring them in off the line. I never saw such a hot, dry year. Something's just not right with this weather." Then she added with a little smirk, "Bet it's something the politicians in Washington's done to aggravate us more than we already are. Wouldn't put it past them."
"Nope." Saul picked up his basket and let himself out the door. He turned once, spoke through the screen. "Much obliged for the invitation. Another time." He waved, and was soon out of sight.
She went to the door and watched him move up the dirt path to the outhouse, then turn off toward his own shack before he reached it. The sky was darkening, with clouds hanging in the west like full udders. But they would not release one single drop of rain. The udders would grow bigger but the storm would pass over, as it always did these days.
She sighed, thinking of Daniel and how he'd look like Saul when he got old. She shook her head and brushed away the thoughts that always made her cry when she thought of her husband.
She sliced herself a piece of stale yeast bread, then opened the icebox and took out the dish of butter Elizabeth had brought last time. She spread some on the bread and forced herself to eat. Her appetite had decreased with the heat, but somehow she had to keep up her milk supply. The last thing she needed was to dry up before the two babies could be weaned. If she could last another three or four months, she'd be all right.
Finally, she went to the front room and looked out the door. She could still see Clay's red Deuce Coupe parked on the road beyond a row of poplars separating her yard from a vacant lot overgrown with weeds. She wondered if Saul had seen it. He probably had, because nothing escaped his attention. She'd hoped he would stay longer, had silently pleaded with him. Clay never came to the house as long as the old man was there.
A feeling of apprehension—a slight sensation of fear—washed over her at the thought of her brother-in-law intruding on her privacy again. What did he want? She'd already given him a small payment toward the rent. He was coming to the house on a regular basis, just hanging around and staring at her. Examining the furniture and Daniel's carvings. He even looked in the icebox. Next he'd be going through her dirty laundry, when he should be home tending his pregnant wife.
Damn him. He's waiting for Saul to leave before he comes in busting his suspenders, drooling at the sight of a woman who isn't big with his child. Demanding money she doesn't have.
She stepped back from the door so he couldn't see her, not that he could through the trees, but she wasn't sure. She watched the car from behind the faded curtains, willing it to start its own engine and drive off. With a deep sigh, she turned away from the window and went to the bedroom to check on Mary. The little girl was awake and smiling.
"Well, are you awake already?" LaDaisy scooped her up. "My goodness, you're all hot and sweaty. A nice bath will help you sleep tonight."
She glanced at the basket of dirty clothes by the bedroom door. If it didn't rain after all, she needed to wash tomorrow.
She carried Mary to the kitchen and put the wash pan in the sink, filled it with hot water from the teakettle and cooled it down with a dipperful of cold water.
"Such a good girl!" LaDaisy hummed as she removed Mary's diaper and shirt and lowered her into the warm water. Mary cooed as she soaped the small body. Rarely did this baby even smile. But now her blue eyes came alert as she giggled and splashed in the water.
"I'm going to scrub the sweat right off of you," LaDaisy sang as she leaned down and kissed Mary's forehead. "Ummmm. You smell good already." She washed the fine blond hair with homemade soap and rinsed it with a cup of water, then lifted the dripping baby out and wrapped her in a towel.
"There now. Let's put some cornstarch on the heat rash."
Mary tugged at her mother's smock and fussed.
"Soon, honey, after you're dressed. Would you like some mush first?"
She returned to the kitchen after dressing Mary and propped her up in the old wooden highchair, securing her around the waist with a tea towel. She cooked a bit of cornmeal mush and spooned in a few bites that rolled right back out.
"Oh, Mary. When will you stop pushing food out with your tongue?"
She wiped her chin and mouth, then carried her back to the bedroom. There, she lay on the bed, cradling her little girl in her arms as she opened her smock.
There was more than enough milk tonight. Ralph was only coming in the mornings now Elizabeth had decided to supplement cows' milk with breast milk. Whether the change in diet agreed with him or not, LaDaisy was able to get some rest and tend to her chores without breaking so often for nursing. Her own baby was enough. Thankfully, the Channings continued to bring extra food.
She dozed off as Mary nursed, patting her mama's breast.
All at once, she was wide awake, staring in horror at the man in the doorway. She eased the nipple out of the sleeping baby's mouth and struggled up on one elbow, her heart pounding.
"H-how did you get in?"
"Walked in, how else?"
"You—you can walk right back out," she said. "What business you got sneaking in here and scaring the daylights out of a mother feeding her baby?"
Clay smirked and stuck his thumbs in his suspenders, leaned back against the doorjamb and thrust out his chest.
"The door was wide open. I thought it was an invitation."
"I didn't invite you. You're trespassing."
His features gave her the creeps. The face her sister regarded as handsome soured LaDaisy's stomach. His eyes were too close together—little pig eyes—and his long face ended in a pointed chin. His mouth was startling—too wide for his face, as though someone had tried to cut off his head and missed.
"Trespassing? Lady, lady, you forget I own this house. Lock the damn doors if you don't want company."
"I forgot, okay? But it doesn't mean you can come in any time you want." She sat up on the side of the bed and pulled the smock over her breast. "I—I'd appreciate it if you'd leave now." She got up and put Mary in the cradle, gave it a little push and turned to him again.
"You've got a wife at home. Does Ida Mae know where you are? What would she think?"
"She thinks I'm collecting the rent. What else would she think?"
"She knows I don't have any money. I told you I'll pay when I can, so go away and leave me alone."
He moved toward her. She tried to slip past him but wasn't fast enough. He whirled around and grabbed her arm.
"Let go—you're hurting me!"
He pulled her up against his fat belly. "Come on now, be nice."
"No!"
"You've got a pretty mouth, especially when you pout and push your lips out. Cuter'n hell when you're mad."
"Stop!"
"Always did think you were better looking than your sister."
She tried to wiggle away, but he held firmly and brought his cruel mouth down on hers. She pushed hard against his chest as he tried to force his tongue between her teeth. Finally, he pushed her away.
"You're no damn fun."
She shook with anger and fear. "Go—go away." She tried to adjust her dress, knowing he was getting a big kick out of upsetting her. "You stink like whiskey. I don't know what you think you're doing, but you can forget it. Just go."
Clay sat down on the edge of bed, his eyes filled with lust. Suddenly, he grabbed his crotch.
"Got something for you. I'll make you an offer."
"Wh—?"
"You be nice to your brother-in-law and he'll wipe out the back rent. How's that sound?"
"You'r
e crazy."
"Nah, I'm not crazy." He patted the bed. "Come over here like a good girl and sit by me."
She shook her head and backed away. Where could she run? How could she leave her baby in the same room with this monster?
"W-we might be related, but I'm a married woman. You're my sister's husband."
"Like I said." He jumped up and grabbed her arm, and the rusty old bedsprings protested as he pulled her down on top of him.
"No! Please, no. I don't want to, Clay, I can't. Go away."
"Just relax. I ain't going to hurt you." He laughed. "We both need some. What's the harm?"
He leered at her. His nose was close enough she could've bit it off had the thought not been so nasty.
He rolled her over on her back and fumbled with her clothes, ripped the smock down to expose her breasts. Ran his hands over them. Licked the nipples, making animal sounds.
"Ummm, nice big titties."
She shuddered, tried to push him away, but his weight was too much. Overcome with grief, she squeezed her eyes shut.
"No ... please!"
He raised his head. "What woman wouldn't want it with her husband gone? How long's it been, a year? Two?"
She sobbed and moaned as he pushed her shoulder down hard and reached for the bottom of her dress with the other hand. She tried to press her legs together, but he found his way through the folds of the dress, then her underwear. She almost screamed when he pushed a finger in hard enough to hurt—where was Saul? God help me. The scream wouldn't come—Clay's mouth was in the way, his tongue snaking between her teeth as his fat finger twisted its way in and out. She was dry, and it hurt. He forced his tongue to the back of her throat as she pounded his back with her fists and scratched his arms.
His breath was hot in her ear. "Stop fighting me!"
She opened her eyes as his erection pushed against her. He unzipped his pants, and with one hand, he hiked her dress above her hips and lowered his disgusting body over hers with a knee between her legs. He shoved her legs apart and entered her with a hard thrust that almost made her black out.
"For the back rent." He laughed. "Maybe next month I'll collect more. Bet you'll like it by then."
Face the Winter Naked Page 9