by Donis Casey
“What does Olivia have to say about this?”
“She doesn’t know about it. Nobody does, except Russ Lawyer, my lawyer.”
“Your lawyer is named Mr. Lawyer?” Alafair was unable to let this delightful piece of information go by without comment.
“Afraid so. Fortunately for him, he’s a good one.”
Alafair returned to the point. “Olivia’s got a little child to raise. She might not be interested in running a business.”
Lester smiled. “I know my girl. My darlin’ girl, sweet as maple syrup. She won’t admit to it, but she’s a businesswoman at heart. Ruth Ann would be happy as a clam to take care of Ron while Olivia takes care of the warehouse. Kenneth prefers the socializing side of it, anyway. Likes to play the big tycoon and woo the customers.”
“Why, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, Lester. What is it you want me to do?”
“I just want somebody else to be in on my plans. Russ Lawyer has been my friend since ’93. He knows the situation and what my wishes are. I always thought you and Shaw had good sense, and if he had come with you, I’d be telling him this as well. But since he didn’t, I guess it’s just you. Y’all aren’t named in the will, so there’s no conflict for you to know this. I reckon Kenneth won’t be happy about my leaving such a big chunk to George. He might even want to contest the will. Now, Olivia, she’ll go along with whatever I want.”
“You really think Kenneth would make trouble?”
“I just got a feeling, Alafair. I just got a feeling.”
Alafair wasn’t inclined to dispute the feelings of a man who was already halfway to heaven. She figured that as the world of the flesh dropped away from a person, his ability to see the truth of things improved.
She nodded. “Well, I don’t know what I’d be able to do about it, Lester, but I promise I can at least bear witness to your wishes.”
“That’s all I ask, Alafair. Thank you.” Lester managed a wry smile. He looked uncomfortable, pinched.
“You think you’re needing some of your medicine, Lester?”
“If you please. It’s through that alcove, there, on top of the chiffarobe. Ruth Ann keeps it way over there. I think she’s afraid I’ll take a notion to down it all at once and get this durn business over with.”
Alafair retrieved the square brown bottle from the top of the chest in the dressing alcove, along with the tablespoon beside it. She sat back down in the chair beside the bed before she started to remove the cork, but Lester stopped her with a gesture.
“Never mind, Alafair. I can manage it on my own. I’d rather wait a bit before I dose, anyway, ’til I really need it. Lasts longer that way.” He eased back down on the pillow, closed his eyes and sighed.
Alafair didn’t argue with him. She thought he deserved to manage his own death however he saw fit. She put the bottle and spoon on the bedside table. She intended to slip out and leave the man to his rest, but when she stood to go, she saw that his eyes were open and he was looking at her. She resumed her seat and leaned close.
“While I’m here, will you let me help Lu with your nursing, Lester? Howsoever much time Ruth Ann spends keeping you company, I know she can’t quite bring herself to tend to…the harder things. Lu might could use the help. I’ve nursed folks through the end before, you know, and I have more kids than anybody has a right to. There isn’t much I haven’t seen.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, Alafair, but allow me my last little bit of dignity.”
Alafair nodded. “Whatever you want. But your dignity is in you, Lester, and this ain’t going to touch it. Truth is, if you let me help, you’d be bestowing an honor on me, and I’d feel more useful.”
“If you can help Ruth Ann through this, then you’ll be more than useful. Babysit me, let Ruth Ann get out of the house a while, maybe go to the big Founders’ Day do and have some fun for a change. But I’ll ask Lu if she’d like you to spell her now and then.”
“Tell her I understand if she’d rather handle it herself. I don’t want to make out that she ain’t doing a good job.”
“Y’all can work that out between you.”
“I swear, I have no idea how to talk to Lu. It’s like trying to talk to someone from the moon.”
“Well, I’ve known Lu for dog’s years, and you can talk to her like you talk to anybody else. She’s plumb full of sense. Knows all kinds of strange Oriental doctoring and dosing that’s helped me a heap. Though I’m not saying she don’t get the strangest notions from time to time.”
Alafair chuckled. “Sounds like a woman after my own heart.”
The curtains billowed out and a rush of sweet, damp air cooled the room. Alafair straightened and took a deep breath. “Smells like rain.”
“We sure could use it,” Lester said, but his reply lacked conviction. His voice had weakened considerably in the last few minutes. He looked a bit green, Alafair thought.
“I’ll fetch Ruth Ann now, Lester. You rest now.”
He didn’t reply.
***
A light rain had begun to fall when Alafair left Lester to his wife and retired to her room. In spite of the nap she had taken in the afternoon, she was so tired that she could hardly focus her eyes. It was all she could do to keep from falling on top of the bed fully clothed and sinking into oblivion. But the journey had left her feeling grimy enough that she determined to drag herself into the bathroom and take advantage of running hot and cold water to wash herself all over before crawling between the crisp white sheets.
She shot the lock on the bathroom door and removed her clothes while the tub filled with lovely hot water all by itself. She took a moment or two to inspect Ruth Ann’s intriguing collection of soaps, creams, and lotions before choosing a paper-wrapped, milky white bar that smelled of roses. She stepped into the big, claw-footed tub and lowered herself gingerly into the comforting embrace of the steamy water, sank back, and almost instantly fell into a stupor.
Every muscle in her body melted with relief, but she was too tired to be able to govern her unruly brain, which couldn’t stop worrying over her sister’s troubles. What can I do to help, her mind repeated, over and over. What can I do to help? Her eyelids fluttered. That blamed Kenneth, she thought. Big healthy galoot, owes everything to his in-laws, and can’t keep home long enough to be their support in time of trouble. If Shaw were in such extremity, God forbid, my sons and sons-in-law—well, most of them—would be falling all over themselves to see I was taken care of.
***
She was thinking of Kenneth. In fact, she could almost see him, standing at the end of the long, narrow bathroom with his back to her, gazing out the window at the street below. If I could talk to him right now, she was thinking, I would say, “Come home. Your family needs you. It’s not too late.”
He turned his head just enough that she could see one eye. The expression on his face was distracted. He shuddered, and wrapped his arms around himself. He began to break up, like a windblown mist, blue and insubstantial. I want to, but I’m so damn cold I can hardly move.
***
A giant flash of lightning and crash of thunder rattled the walls, shocking her awake. Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright, splashing bathwater onto the floor.
Alafair hadn’t realized that she had fallen asleep, but she figured she must have, because the water was barely warm.
She rubbed her eyes with her palms, and managed a chuckle. “That’s what happens when you get too tired,” she said aloud. “You have crazy dreams and nearly drown yourself.”
Tuesday, September 14, 1915
Martha hadn’t intended to sleep late on Tuesday morning, but she had had a restless night, and the sun was well up by the time she finally managed to rise. Thunderstorms had raged off and on all the previous night. Her unfamiliar room was situated all by itself at the top of the house, too close to the thunder and lightning for comfort. It was a shame, too, because she had really looked forward to having a room all to herself. She hadn’t
anticipated missing her sister Mary’s comforting presence in the bed with her.
The rain was abating by the time Martha was dressed, and she walked over to the gable window and pulled back the curtains to get a first look at the day. Low clouds were still scudding across the sky, and the wind was damp and blustery, but it was lovely and cool and fresh after such a long, bedraggled summer, and she took a deep breath. She stood at the window for a few minutes, looking up and down the tree-lined street below and planning the upcoming day.
She expected that most of the day would be spent helping Olivia in any way that she could, probably by babysitting little Ron and Grace and giving her cousin the opportunity to go to the warehouse and confer with manager Mike Ed Beams for a while. This would relieve Aunt Ruth Ann to tend to Uncle Lester, and Lu to attend to the house, and Alafair to attend to Ruth Ann, Lester, Lu, and the house.
But Martha did hope she would be able to do some shopping with her mother and sister today, and she expected that the best way to accomplish that was to spirit them away as soon as possible after breakfast, before Alafair had the opportunity to get involved in something.
Alafair had tentatively agreed to take a little time for shopping, but Martha knew that if she didn’t broach the subject quickly, and vigorously insist that she keep her bargain, her mother would find some reason to demur.
And this time, at least this one time, Martha wasn’t going to let her. She stared down at Aunt Ruth Ann’s roses and sighed. Alafair worked too hard for Martha’s comfort, and it seemed to her that her mother never did anything just for the pleasure of it. And, in the past year or so, she had been noticing new lines that were appearing around Alafair’s eyes and mouth, and the gray streak in her hair was becoming more and more noticeable every day. Alafair didn’t seem to be in the least aware that she wasn’t getting any younger, either. She did insist on roaring into every situation like a locomotive, and never paid the least attention to Martha’s suggestions that she let somebody take care of her once in a while. It had been worrying Martha for some time now.
She was still gazing into the street, planning her strategy for getting Alafair out of the house, when it suddenly dawned on her what she was looking at.
There was a motorcycle parked next to the curb in front of the house.
Martha straightened like she had been shocked. She only knew one person who rode a motorcycle.
“Oh, surely not!” she said aloud. After all, there were motorcycle races planned for the gala tomorrow, and it was likely that every motorcyclist in western Oklahoma and Kansas would make his way to Enid for the chance to compete.
But even as she rationalized its presence, she knew exactly why that particular motorcycle was parked in front of her aunt’s house. Sudden wild emotion shot through her—fury uppermost, as well as healthy portions of disbelief and amazement. She turned and stalked toward the staircase, totally ignoring the thrill of joy that was bubbling up against her will.
***
Martha stood stiffly in the doorway and eyed the unexpected visitor. He was sitting in the parlor, talking to her aunt, as calm and friendly as you please, with one leg crossed jauntily over the other and one arm stretched across the back of the settee.
“Streeter McCoy!” she blurted. He looked over at her. A delighted smile lit up his face, and he stood.
His fine, thinning hair was the color of ocean-washed beach, his eyes were a sparkling gold-brown, and his face was covered with a faint spray of golden speckles like grains of sand. He was a big man, not fat at all, but generously proportioned. He was dressed in a three-piece charcoal gray serge suit and a crisp white shirt, set off by a burgundy tie with a subtle gray stripe. He looked prosperous. He looked good. Martha felt her cheeks flush in spite of her steely intention to remain cool. The unruly nature of her emotions irritated her no end.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped.
Her ill-natured greeting didn’t seem to bother him. “Howdy, Martha. I have some business here in the Strip, and I came up on the train late last night. Your uncle Jack Cecil told me you had accompanied your mother to Enid and were visiting Mrs. Yeager, so I thought I’d drop by and pay my respects.”
Martha glanced at Aunt Ruth Ann, who had stopped petting the cat in her lap and looked shocked at her niece’s lack of manners. Martha had the good grace to blush. “That was kind of you.”
“Mr. McCoy and I were just talking about the thunderstorm last night,” Aunt Ruth Ann said. “He tells me that lightning struck the high school building. About a wagon-load of brick was knocked off the southeast corner of the building, but nothing else was damaged.”
Martha barely heard what her aunt was saying. “Is that so?”
Taking no note of Martha’s pique, McCoy turned back to Ruth Ann and affably continued their conversation about the weather. “The rain must be a great thing for the farmers.”
Ruth Ann nodded. “Indeed. The ground was so baked that it was too hard for plowing, and the heat was drying things up generally. We had a big old wheat harvest, but it was late for lack of rain. And the layers of dust on the roads have made automobile driving mighty unpleasant.”
McCoy was chipper. “Well, after the sun shines in true Oklahoma fashion for half a day, the roads will be in fine condition for country driving.”
Martha must have made some little noise of disdain, for Aunt Ruth Ann looked up and patted the settee. “Martha, why don’t you sit down here and keep company with Mr. McCoy for a spell while I go upstairs and give Lester his medicine?”
Martha steadied herself before she walked into the room and perched on the edge of a chair. As she passed on her way out, Ike clutched in her arms, Ruth Ann gave her niece a look that said, “now, be nice.” Martha bit her lip. McCoy waited until Aunt Ruth Ann was gone before he sat back down himself.
He smiled. “Well, Martha. I gather you’re not overjoyed to see me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Streeter. It’s not that, really. It’s just that the reason I came with Mama on this trip in the first place was to get away from you for a while.”
He emitted a pained laugh. “You never were one to beat around the bush, and that’s the truth. But that does sting a mite.”
“Don’t go acting all hurt, now. You know what I mean. What on earth are you doing here, anyway? Do you really have business? You didn’t come all the way to Enid just to see me, I hope. If you can’t do without my company for a couple of weeks, then I despair of you, Streeter.”
McCoy sat back in his seat, spread both arms over the back, and crossed his ankle over his knee. The posture of a confident man, Martha thought.
“You certainly have a high opinion of yourself, Miss Tucker.” His tone was light and teasing. “The fact is, I make three or four trips a year to our field office up here. I happened to be here a couple of years ago during the Founders’ Day festivities and had such a good time that since then I’ve timed the trip to coincide with the celebration. I’ve entered the motorcycle races this year. Brought my new Harley with me on the train. So I was particularly looking forward to this particular trip. Especially when I heard that you happen to be here. I thought we might take in some of the sights together. But if my presence is so repugnant to you, I shan’t impose myself.”
Martha was hardly abashed. “That’s a convenient tale, Mr. McCoy. To tell the truth, due to the reason we’re here, which is my uncle’s imminent death, I expect I’ll have neither the time nor the inclination to indulge in any outings. I’m afraid we’ll just have to wait until I get back home to socialize.”
McCoy’s expression became more serious and he sat forward. “I’m sorry, Martha. I wasn’t thinking to bother you. Please don’t give it another thought. I really do have to check the books in the field office, anyway. I’ll talk to you when you return home.” He allowed himself a smile. “It is nice to see you, though.”
He was so sincere that Martha felt herself softening, but just as she opened her mouth to say something conciliatory, A
lafair came down the stairs with Grace in tow. Grace skipped into the parlor and flung herself into Martha’s lap, but Alafair stopped dead in the entryway when she caught sight of McCoy. He looked up at her and stood.
“Well, as I live and breathe, if it isn’t Streeter McCoy!”
“How do you do, Mrs. Tucker?”
The sly smile that played around Alafair’s lips knocked every bit of give out of Martha’s attitude. She stiffened. “He’s in town on business, Ma, and to make a good try at breaking his neck by racing that motorcycle of his at the Founders’ Day Jubilee. And he was just leaving.” She stood up as well, hoisting Grace in her arms.
Alafair held her tongue. She could tell by the hectic color of her cheeks that Martha was not happy about having to deal with her feelings about Mr. McCoy right at the moment, but she was rather glad to see him, herself. She knew better than to convey that sentiment to Martha.
McCoy shot Alafair a glance. “Well, I guess I’ve been given my walking papers, Mrs. Tucker, so I’ll say good morning to you all.”
“It was nice to see you, Streeter.”
But McCoy wasn’t quite ready to give up. He turned back to Martha. “I have to work for a while this morning, but the office is right on the square. I’d certainly like to take you all to luncheon.”
Martha didn’t give Alafair the chance to respond. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve talked my mother into taking a couple of hours to go shopping with me this morning; and I’ll be having dinner here with my family. Besides, Streeter, I don’t know if it’s appropriate to be going off to enjoy myself with my friends, under the circumstances. Perhaps we’d better put that luncheon off until after I get back to Boynton.”