by Donis Casey
This statement gave Martha an immediate stabbing pain behind her eyes. She closed them and rubbed her forehead with one hand. “Certainly none will,” she agreed carefully, eyes still shut, “unless you ask.”
Olivia considered this. “You’re right. I ought at least to try. But I’d feel more certain about it if I had some proof, some papers or something.”
“Do you have any idea where Kenneth might keep such a thing?”
“Well, not in the house where I might find it, surely. Maybe in the safe at the warehouse, but I’ve never looked to see.”
“You should look around the house and in his office at the warehouse while he’s gone. See if you can find something that’ll tell you what he’s been up to. At least you’d know what you’re facing.”
“Why, I’ll do it! Thank you, Martha. I don’t know if it’ll do any good, but at least I’ll feel like I’m not just sitting around waiting for the sky to fall in on me.” Invigorated by hope, she picked up her fork and ate another bite of cake.
***
Lester’s face was pinched and he didn’t seem comfortable, but his eyes were closed and his breathing regular. Alafair sat by his bed long enough to assure herself that he really was sleeping, then gathered herself up and crept out of the room. Grace was not in bed, where she had left her. Since they had gotten to Enid, Grace was not sleeping normally, and Alafair determined that she was going to have to keep a closer watch on her naps. She peeked in the other bedrooms down the hall and found Ruth Ann, clad only in her shift, sound asleep in one of them, but no Grace. She went downstairs feeling—not alarmed, exactly—but pressed to locate an active little girl loose in a strange house.
As she passed through the parlor, she heard childish laughter coming from the kitchen and altered her course with a sigh of relief.
She found Grace sitting on several pillows at the kitchen table, dipping a cookie into a ceramic mug of milk, chattering away at a middle-aged Asian man who was sitting across the table from her. Lu was at the counter, peeling vegetables with her back to the door. Little Ron was kicking and gurgling in a bassinet in the corner.
When Alafair opened the kitchen door, Lu turned around and the man stood. Grace gestured at her mother with her cookie. “Look, Ma, I got a Chinese cookie! I can count in Chinese, listen—yi, er, san. Ma, what’s Chinese?”
“I’ll tell you later, sweet pea.” She looked at Lu. “She hasn’t been sleeping her nap like she does at home. I’m sorry if she’s bothering you.”
“No bother, no bother,” Lu assured her. “Good little girl, like my granddaughter.” She pointed at the standing man with the tip of her paring knife. “Miz Tucker, this my son, Arnold Han. He drive truck, make delivery. Drive up today from Oklahoma City with supplies for fair, come visit his Ma.”
Arnold was standing quietly with the fingertips of one hand perched on the tabletop and the other by his side. He was much bigger than his mother, but still less than average-sized. He was dressed in a trim dark uniform with a small logo over the breast pocket that said “Birk Trucking Company.” His black hair was long on top and slicked straight back from his face, and he regarded her calmly out of eyes so black that she couldn’t discern his pupils from his irises. They nodded at one another. “How do you do, Miz Tucker,” he said.
As far as Alafair could tell, he had no Chinese accent whatsoever. “Just fine, Arnold,” she replied. “Nice to meet a man who visits his mother regular.”
A whisper of amusement passed over his face. “I do my best, ma’am, but I’m afraid I can’t get up here enough to suit Ma.”
“I expect no son does. Sit down, Arnold. I don’t stand on ceremony in my sister’s house.” She turned back to Lu. “I’ve just come from Mr. Yeager’s bedside, Lu. I gave him a dose of medicine about half an hour ago, and he’s got to sleep. I expect he’ll be out for a couple of hours. I’ll take Grace out of your hair, now, and let you get on with supper. I’d be glad to take Ron, too, if you’ve a mind. Let you visit with your son without so many distractions.” She glanced at Arnold, who had not taken her up on her invitation to sit and was still standing by the table, with his arms crossed over his chest. Patiently waiting for her to leave.
Lu shook her head. “I no mind Ron. Very good baby. Miz Yeager, she go upstairs to rest a long time ago. I check Mr. Yeager directly.”
“Yes, I saw my sister napping when I came down. Come on, Grace, let’s go see if we can make ourselves useful around here.”
Having determined some minutes before that the adults’ conversation was going to culminate in her being removed from the kitchen, Grace was busily stuffing little milk-soaked almond cookies in her mouth. Alafair grabbed up a napkin and wiped off the trail of milk and crumbs that adorned her chin and the front of her smock. “I declare, girl, I’m sure these folks are mighty impressed with your dainty manners.”
As she hustled Grace out of the kitchen, she just caught sight of Arnold finally sitting back down at the table. It took them a couple of minutes to get back up to the second floor, since Grace was a bit chary of the stairs but too independent to allow her mother to help her. So Alafair followed slowly behind as Grace hoisted herself up the staircase one step at a time on her feet and hands. Coming down was an even lengthier proposition, but Alafair didn’t care. She was glad that Grace was just wary enough to be careful. When some of her other kids were three years old—Charlie and Alice came immediately to mind—they would have gone roaring up and down the stairs and pitched headlong to their deaths in a minute without constant supervision.
***
Alafair was worried about waking her emotionally exhausted sister, but when they finally got to the second floor landing, she could see through the open bedroom door that Ruth Ann was sitting up on the edge of the bed. She stood and scrubbed her sleep-creased face with both hands as Alafair and Grace walked into the room.
“Lester’s asleep,” Alafair opened, and Ruth Ann nodded.
“Yes, I just checked on him. Did you like the parade, Grace?”
Grace scrambled up onto the bed and proceeded to tell her aunt all about it as Alafair moved unhurriedly around the room, retrieving a dress that had been flung over the back of a chair, stockings from the end of the bed, shoes from under the dressing table, and helping Ruth Ann put herself back together.
Ruth Ann was sitting at the dressing table and Alafair was brushing and arranging her sister’s long, chestnut-colored hair by the time Grace was relating the tale of the almond cookies.
“My, my, baby,” Ruth Ann exclaimed. “Sounds like you’ve had quite a day!”
“Oh, she has,” Alafair answered for her. “And she didn’t have much of a nap, either. I expect I’ll have one cranky little gal on my hands come this evening.”
Grace was highly affronted by this remark. “I’m sweet as pie, Ma.”
“Crabapple pie, maybe,” Alafair teased, as she rolled Ruth Ann’s hair into a long coil at her neck. “Come here and hold this box of hairpins for me.”
Grace leaped to the job and Alafair turned back to her sister, who was sitting with her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of hands gently ministering to her.
“Do you remember how Mama used to sit the three of us girls down in front of the fire at night and brush our hair like this?” Alafair asked.
Ruth Ann smiled. “I loved that. She’d go on at it for hours. When she’d get done, I’d be so relaxed I’d practically have to be carried to bed. She’d twist our hair up in rags so it’d be curly in the morning.”
“I’d get so impatient I’d like to jump out of my skin. I couldn’t hold still long enough for her to get them rags the way she wanted them. Maybe that’s why I never can do a thing with my hair to this day.”
“I sure will be glad when Mama gets here.”
Alafair nodded. In times of trouble, even middle-aged women sometimes longed for their mothers. “Are you feeling better after your lie-down, Ruth Ann?”
Ruth Ann opened her eyes and regarded Alafair’s
reflection in the mirror. “A little bit. I wish Kenneth would come home, though.”
“Yes, Lester said that was preying on your mind.”
“Oh, Kenneth takes these long business trips regular, and it’s not unusual that he comes home a day later or a day earlier than he reckoned. But he always wires Olivia once or twice while he’s away, and he hasn’t done it at all this time.”
Alafair’s hand paused in mid-stroke. Ruth Ann’s worry, coming so close on the heels of Lester’s rant about their son-in-law, gave her a jolt of alarm. She found herself remembering her dream of Kenneth, and Grace’s strange remarks. Her concern must have shown on her face, because Ruth Ann said, “What’s wrong?”
Alafair fiercely tamped down her dread and poked a hairpin into Ruth Ann’s hairdo. “I just don’t like to see you worrying about Kenneth, on top of everything. I’m sure his business has taken him a little longer than he expected, and he’s in such a rush to get it done and get home that he just hasn’t taken the time to find a telephone or a Western Union office.”
Ruth Ann considered this theory and apparently liked it, because the tension in her face eased. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. That sounds just like what he would do.”
Alafair put down the brush and placed her hands on Ruth Ann’s shoulders while they regarded her hairdressing artistry in the mirror. “How does Aunt Ruth Ann look, Grace?”
“Beautiful,” Grace stated, and the women laughed.
“Now, Sister, I think a bit of exercise would do you good,” Alafair said. “Martha is over to Olivia’s and Lu has little Ron downstairs. Lester is having a good sleep. I think me and Grace are going to tend to your garden in the back. The rain has perked it up considerable, but I noticed this morning that it could use a good weed. Everything is well in hand for a while, so I’m going to hand you your hat and scoot you out the door for an hour or so. There’s still a passel of things for you to see at the Founders’ celebration.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Alafair.”
“It’ll refresh you, and you’ll be better able to comfort and support Lester. I figured you’d like to take a stroll on your own and be relieved of the need to visit for a bit, but if you have a yen for company, me and Grace would be proud to come with you.”
“No need for that. You’re right, I wouldn’t mind some time to myself. So I guess I’ll let you boss me yet again, just like I always did when we were kids.”
Alafair snorted, mostly amused but a little embarrassed by her sister’s comment. “Well, I ought to apologize for being such a tyrant back then, I expect. But having you younger sisters and brothers to order about sure turned out to be good practice for my mothering career.”
They walked together out of the bedroom and to the stairs, where they patiently went down beside Grace as she picked her way toward the bottom one step at a time. Ike trotted past on his way downstairs, intent on his own business.
***
Martha stretched one arm over the back of her chair and eyed her cousin thoughtfully. Since Olivia had brought up the subject of husbands, she decided to take advantage of the opportunity to garner another opinion on the subject of marriage. “Are you sorry you married him?”
Olivia didn’t seem surprised or offended, but she did skirt the question. “I do care for him, Martha. And he does try. But I can see plain as day where he goes wrong. He hates the shipping business. I wish he’d just forget about working at the warehouse and do something he likes. I can run the business, with Mr. Beams’ help. Yet Kenneth would rather eat dirt than to take advice from his wife.” She gave a rueful smile. “Well, marriage isn’t easy, as my mother tells me ten times a day. I figure he’ll grow up one of these days, and then we’ll be happy enough with each other. I’d be a bunch happier right now if he’d quit trying to be a big shot, though.”
“So would you do it again, if you had the chance?”
“I might wait a few years,” she admitted. “But of course I wouldn’t give all the gold in Fort Knox for little Ron.”
An introspective silence fell as the two women pondered their fates. The rain had stopped and Olivia had opened all the windows on the north and east sides, to let in the breeze and air out the house. A light wind was rustling the trees and bushes in the yard, and Olivia could hear the distant sounds of the Founders’ celebration taking place a few blocks away. The clouds were breaking up. A swath of sunlight suddenly poured through the open back door and lit a path across the kitchen floor.
“I found where Kenneth hid his latest bottle of absinthe,” Olivia said.
Martha blinked at this unexpected statement. “You don’t say?”
“Up in the top of the closet in his study, behind some boxes of papers. It’s been opened. About two-thirds full.”
“Is that so? I’m surprised you haven’t poured it out. He could get arrested if the wrong person catches him with it.”
“Oh, I’ve poured many a bottle down the drain over the last two years. He just brings in another and finds someplace else to stash it. Funny, he has to know I’m the one who finds the bottles and gets rid of them, but we’ve never said one word about it to each other.”
“You mean to say that in all this time you’ve never told him you want him to quit it?”
Olivia snorted. “Of course I have. When we were first married. But he just laughed at me for worrying and said it was none of my business.”
“That’s annoying.”
“Thing is, Martha, when I found this last bottle, I went to pour it down the sink, like I did with the others, but I’ll be jiggered if I didn’t just stand there and look at it in my hand for the longest time. Finally, I put it back where I found it. I’ll get rid of it, too, one of these days. But, you know, I begin to wonder what the attraction is.”
Martha studied her cousin for a minute while she considered what to say to this revelation.
Olivia stared back at her, her brown eyes calm. She reached up and adjusted her glasses before she continued. “You ever been curious to find out what spirits taste like?”
Martha opened her mouth to reply, but Olivia cut her off. “Are you shocked?”
The idea made Martha laugh. “If I figure right, Olivia, you’re telling me that you’re aiming to take a taste of the stuff before you toss it out, and you’re looking for an accomplice.”
“Well, yes, if you want to come right out with it. Have you ever tasted liquor before?”
“I can’t say as I have. I’ve seen it, though, and seen plenty of people in a bad way because of it. Have you ever had any?”
“Never. Are you interested in taking a step or two down the dark path with me?”
“Mama would keel over dead.”
“So would my mama, but I don’t intend that either of them ever find out about it.”
“Won’t they smell it on our breath?”
“Well, Martha, I’m not proposing that we get falling down drunk. Just one sip, that’s all, then down the drain she goes.” She demonstrated with a swooshing motion.
“I have to admit I’ve had the odd curious thought, Cousin. And we are both over twenty-one, after all. Of course, it is still illegal. If the law busts in on us right about now, I reckon we’ll be shamed forever and have to leave the state.”
“After our stretch in prison, that is. In the little cabinet over the sink, there’re some special glasses Kenneth got for drinking the stuff before it was outlawed. They have little bulbs at the bottom. You can’t mistake them. Why don’t you get down a couple of those for us? I’ll fetch the bottle and be right back.”
Olivia stood and disappeared into the study at the back. Martha knew her mother would disapprove mightily, but she felt no guilt whatsoever. Just a little bit naughty and a slight thrill at the adventure.
Olivia returned with a slender, opaque bottle and set it on the table next to the two glasses that Martha had retrieved from the cabinet. She filled a tin pitcher with water from the faucet at her kitchen sink and dropped a couple of handfuls of ic
e chips into it from the top of the icebox. She then put the pitcher on the table, took a large slotted silver spoon from a drawer, and completed her preparations by setting the sugar bowl in the midst of it all. Finally the two women sat down at the table and pondered the pretty bottle and glasses thoughtfully. They both looked up and locked eyes across the table at the same time, and burst into laughter.
“Well, here we go,” Olivia said. “I’ve seen Kenneth and his friends do this enough times, so I reckon I’m doing it right.” She uncorked the bottle and filled the bulbous reservoirs at the bottom of the glasses with the emerald green liquor.
“How pretty!” Martha exclaimed.
“Just watch this.”
Olivia balanced the slotted spoon over the mouth of one of the glasses and deposited a sugar cube into the bowl of the spoon. She took the pitcher and slowly tipped it over one of the glasses, allowing iced water to drip over the sugar cube and through the slots one drop at a time.
As it hit the clear green liquid, each drop of the sweetened water burst into a pearly, opaque bloom, which swirled and danced in patterns through the drink like windblown clouds.
“Oh, my goodness,” Martha managed.
“Kenneth called that changing color the ‘louche.’ I figure it’s part of the appeal.”
Olivia patiently filled both glasses nearly to the brim before she corked the bottle. Then each woman lifted her glass and examined its seductive contents for a long moment.
Martha finally broke the silence. “Well, here’s hoping…”
“Chin-chin, as Lu likes to say.”
They clinked their glasses and took a tentative sip. Martha rolled the slightly viscous drink around on her tongue for a moment, testing the flavor as carefully as the most discerning wine enthusiast. “A little bitter,” she observed.