Whiskey Sunrise

by Missouri Vaun

  Royal sauntered up the hill toward her grandfather’s house. As she drew close, she saw him in a rocker on the long, sheltered front porch.

  “Hey,” said Royal.

  She settled into the rocker next to him. His gray hair, thin on top, was wafting in the breeze. She took a moment to look him over. His clothing was worn almost through as if these were his favorites and he wore them every day. His boots were scuffed and seemed molded to the shape of his feet, turned up just a little at the toe.

  “Hey,” her grandpa responded without looking at her; he seemed to be studying something along the ridgeline in the distance.

  “Teddy said you asked him to fire the still this morning. Are you sick?”

  “Nothin’ serious. I’m just feeling a mite under the weather. It’ll pass.” He crossed his legs and reached for a glass of water on the table next to his chair. “It does Teddy good to be called on from time to time anyway.”

  “Well, I won’t disagree with you there. Was I as lazy as him when I was his age?”

  Her grandfather snorted a laugh. “Not hardly. You was a wild thing, always into something. Good thing I put you to drivin’ so you’d have something to settle your mind on.”

  Royal had to smile. She felt lucky that her grandfather never once doubted that she could do anything a boy could do. He treated her as an equal, not as some fragile creature to be protected. Maybe part of that was also her own doing. If her family had tried to force her into some preordained stereotypical female role she’d have run off long ago.

  Footsteps called Royal’s attention away from the soft flannel plaid pattern of her grandfather’s shirt that she’d been studying. Her uncle, Wade Duval, rounded the corner of the house. All she’d wanted was a moment to check in with her grandfather. It was too early in the day to deal with Wade’s surly self. He would usually not make a show in front of his father. His cowardly way was to be as mean as a snake when no one was around to stop him. Actually, to compare him to a snake was demeaning to snakes, which she felt had gotten a raw deal ever since the Good Book blamed them for tempting Eve.

  “You got some cash for me?” Wade propped his broad boot on the edge of the porch and leaned on his knee, looking directly at Royal.

  Royal didn’t respond, but she pulled the money out of her pocket and handed it to Wade. She finished her coffee while she watched him unroll the bills and count them. Her grandfather remained silent beside her.

  Seeming satisfied with what she’d handed him, he turned to leave.

  “Hey, I think you forgot something,” said Royal.

  Wade turned and for a minute looked like he was going to say something. Instead he counted off several bills and handed them back to Royal. She was due two dollars for each bottle she’d delivered as a driving fee. During a week’s time, two dollars a bottle really added up. A case would hold twelve half-gallon jars of whiskey, and when she removed the backseat of the car for larger loads she could carry almost twenty-two cases. That was some good money, and she’d been squirreling it away for when she felt like doing something besides driving.

  Royal accepted the cash from Wade without getting up. Wade and her grandfather stored the rest of the cash in a collective spot to be divided later among other members of the family who worked the still.

  Wade nodded to his father and left. She studied her grandfather’s tanned, weathered features for some clue as to how he felt about his only remaining son. His expression was hard to read.

  Everyone said that part of the reason for Wade’s ill temper was that her father, Roy, had been the favored son. Some swore Royal was the spitting image of her father, Roy. She’d been told that she definitely drove as well as he did. No one would likely ever find out what really caused the accident that took his life.

  He’d been alone in the car when it happened. They’d discovered his car upside down in a river ravine. It was unclear if he’d been killed upon impact or drowned. Royal shook her head to dislodge more dark thoughts.

  “Why you shakin’ your head?”

  “No reason.” Royal leaned back in her chair. “Doesn’t it ever bother you that Wade is so sour all the time?”

  “It’s just his way. There’s nothing to be done about it.”

  “I worry that his eternal bad mood is gonna run crossways with Boyd Cotton some day and we’ll all pay the price for it.” Boyd Cotton was the local sheriff, and for a small monthly stipend had agreed to look the other way on delivery days.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Just a feeling.” But that wasn’t the whole truth. Ned had confided to Royal that his father had been complaining about the payment to Boyd, which made her wonder how long he’d actually keep it up. Without the little extra cash incentive each month, she figured Boyd would have little inspiration to aid their cause.

  “Wade knows better than to cross Boyd. Whether we like him or not, we need to stay on his good side.”

  The chair beside her creaked as he stood.

  “I’m going down to check the garden. Tomatoes might need to be staked.” He stepped off the porch. He had a slight limp as he moved. His left foot had been injured in a cook fire as an infant and never properly healed. A special insert had to be crafted for his boot so that it fit his misshapen foot.

  “Do you need help?” Royal asked.

  “Nah. I’m sure you got better things to do. You go on now and enjoy your Saturday.”

  Royal decided breakfast and another cup of coffee sounded good. She headed back down the hill toward her house. At about the halfway point she saw someone walking up the hill from the road. She realized fairly quickly that it was Grace. She had caramel-colored skin, high cheekbones, and her lips curled into a smirk as soon as she caught sight of Royal standing on the path waiting for her.

  It looked like she was carrying a plate of something. Royal knew that her breakfast plan had just gotten a heck of a lot better, because no matter what Grace was carrying, it was going to be tastier than what she could fix for herself. Driving was her gift, not cooking.

  “Grace Watkins, is that a present for me?” Royal shoved one hand in her pocket. In her other hand, she cradled the empty coffee cup she’d carried from the house.

  “It most certainly is not. Is your granddaddy around?” Grace playfully brushed past Royal toward the house at the top of the small rise.

  “He just went down to the garden. So I guess I’ll have to relieve you of your package there.” Royal turned and began to follow Grace. She playfully tugged at Grace’s skirt as she followed.

  “Royal Duval, you keep your wandering hands to yourself or I won’t so much as give you a spoonful of Momma’s peach pie.” She swatted at Royal’s hand, but missed.

  “Peach pie! I love me some peach pie for breakfast. Grandpa won’t mind.”

  They let themselves into the house. The screen door banged behind them as they went, and Grace moved around the kitchen gathering a plate and a pie server while Royal settled into a chair at the table. Grace’s mother had helped keep house for her grandfather ever since her grandmother had passed away. And every so often she made an extra cake or pie for Grace to bring over on the weekend. Grace had spent a lot of time in this house following her mother around while she cooked and cleaned. She probably felt as at home in this old wood frame house as Royal did.

  “You’re too good to me, Grace.” Royal grinned as Grace handed her a generous serving.

  “Too good is right.” Grace dropped into a chair across from Royal. “Sam told me you rolled your car.”

  “Sam talks too much.”

  “Royal, you need to stop taking chances. Daredevils live short lives, and I want yours to be long.” Grace reached over and touched Royal’s arm. “Who’s gonna aggravate me in my old age if you aren’t around?”

  “I wasn’t taking chances. There was someone standing in the road, and I swerved to miss her.” Royal scooped another forkful of pie into her mouth. Good Lord, Mrs. Watkins could cook. The sweet fruit filling p
ractically melted in her mouth, and the crust was flaky perfection.

  “I heard. Lovey Porter, resident bee charmer.”

  “For Pete’s sake, does Sam tell you every little thing?”

  “Sam and I have no secrets.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Nor should we.” Grace crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave Royal a you best behave look.

  “I’ll keep that in mind next time I think he can keep a secret. I might as well just tell you my own damn self.”

  “As if you have any deep dark secrets that I don’t already know, Royal Duval. Such a big talker you are.”

  Royal scraped the last crumbs of crust onto her fork. “Man, that was good.”

  “I guess so. You hardly took a breath.”

  “What I’ll never know is how you stay so thin while eatin’ your momma’s cooking all these years.” Royal pushed the plate forward and leaned her elbows on the table.

  “Worrying about you keeps me thin.”

  Royal laughed. “Stop worrying about me, Grace. I’m gonna be fine.”

  “Not if you’re planning on spending a lot of time with Miss Lovey.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Royal felt a knot in her stomach at the mere mention of Lovey in the same sentence with trouble.

  “Well, she’s her father’s daughter ain’t she? And he don’t like your kind one bit.”

  “Methodists?”

  “Don’t make jokes. You know what I mean. Moonshiners.” Grace gave Royal a stern look.

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” Royal grinned and held her empty plate out as a clear plea for a second serving.

  ❖

  Lovey checked the clock. It was just a little past the lunch hour. She’d restlessly waited for time to pass the entire day, moving from room to room dusting, cleaning, rearranging, settling to read for a little while, and finally now she was kneeling in front of an old hope chest tucked in a corner of the spare bedroom.

  She lifted the heavy lid and pushed the hinge into the locked position so that it would remain open. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d visited her mother’s things. A black-and-white photo rested on top of her mother’s wedding dress. Lovey fingered the white detailed stitching on the bodice of the dress and then reached for a linen handkerchief, delicately embroidered with small yellow and pink flowers. Remembering the details of Royal’s handkerchief in contrast to the florets made her smile. She replaced the small piece of folded fabric and reached for a silver brush.

  Tucked next to the brush were letters written by her father and mailed to her mother while he was away at seminary. The cursive was bold and sure on the front of each ivory envelope, and each one had been neatly undone with a letter opener so that the edges were practically smooth.

  Her mother had died while Lovey was still in her teens. Probably the time when a young girl needed her mother most. Influenza had been an indiscriminate killer that winter. Her mother hadn’t been the only individual to fall in their community.

  There were so many things Lovey still longed to share with her mother. Never would she have the chance to seek her mother’s advice about dresses or boys or first kisses or whatever was happening now with Royal.

  Lovey’s father had tried his best to keep her at home after her mother’s death, but with the demands of pastoring a large congregation, he was too often called away. He’d enrolled Lovey in the Brenau Academy, the only residential, all female college preparatory program in Georgia at the time. When Lovey began attending the academy in ninth grade, she was part of one of its earliest classes, the school having only been established in 1928. She was a year younger than most of the other girls in ninth grade and still mourning the loss of her mother. Lovey found support and friendship in the sisterhood at Brenau. She remained there for college, training to be a teacher. She’d met George at a school mixer with the University of Georgia her sophomore year.

  She sat back on her heels, reflecting on her time at Brenau.

  Her roommate, Dottie, had ended up becoming her closest friend over the years that they both studied there. They’d seen each other through the tumultuous years of late adolescence and college. Many a night they’d huddled under the covers, cuddled together, discussing friends, crushes, and the events of the day.

  Lovey had seen Dottie only sporadically since their graduation. For women, the choices after college were limited, either graduate school or marriage. Since Lovey wasn’t from a family of means, she’d chosen marriage. She knew that the congregation had given her father additional support so that she could attend the private school in the first place, for which she’d been very grateful.

  Dottie had also married after graduation. Richard was a classmate of George’s, so during their courtship they’d double-dated quite a bit. They had a daughter now that Lovey had not even met. With George’s decline and illness, Lovey had been unable to visit Dottie after the birth. She felt the sudden urge to write her a letter. It had been too long, and it would probably do her some good to reach out to such an old and dear friend. Richard had accepted a job in Charlotte, North Carolina. He was a banker, and the last time she’d heard from Dottie, was doing quite well in his job.

  Lovey closed the lid of the large walnut chest and stretched out across the bed, looking at the ceiling. She’d felt so different since she and Royal had kissed, almost as if she was a little outside her own body, looking back at herself. This afternoon she would see Royal again, and the anticipation was making her stomach twitch into knots of nervousness. What was happening to her? She was becoming a creature she hardly recognized. She fondled the locket that had once belonged to her mother, which now hung around her neck. She unhooked the chain and laid it on the bedside table.

  She rolled off the large four-poster bed where she’d tucked Royal under her grandmother’s handmade quilt and headed to the bath for a good soak. It took a little effort to ready the bath before she settled into the tall-sided claw foot tub. The gauzy fabric of the curtain in the window nearby fluffed softly in the warm, early afternoon breeze, and the call of a blue jay caught her attention. The only other sound in the large quiet house was the intermittent drip from the faucet at the end of the tub near her feet.

  Lovey rubbed soap over the curve of her stomach and up over her breasts, slowly stroking her nipples. She closed her eyes, imagining that the touch on her delicate skin was Royal’s. She groaned and sank further into the tub at the very thought of Royal’s hands on her naked flesh. Such a thought surprised her, and she felt her cheeks flame hotly. She was sure she was blushing.

  And then she was struck by a surprisingly unpleasant thought. She sloshed quickly upright in the tub, her senses on high alert. What if her father came home early and she had to explain why Royal, the most boyish looking woman she’d ever known, was picking her up on a Saturday afternoon? Surely this would strike him as odd. Lovey was annoyed at herself for not anticipating such an encounter sooner. Why hadn’t she planned to meet Royal in some neutral spot, away from father’s judgmental view?

  What had her father said? He’d be away most of the day. If she was lucky, most of the day meant well after four o’clock.

  Lovey decided to finish her bath and get ready. In the event that Royal was early, she didn’t want to be responsible for any excuse to delay their departure.

  Chapter Ten

  Reverend Edwards had not returned home by the time Royal picked Lovey up for their afternoon outing. Lovey had been instructed by Royal to wear shoes she could walk in so Lovey could only assume they weren’t going anywhere too fancy. And even if they’d wanted to she wasn’t sure there was anywhere elegant to go locally. That sort of evening would require a sixty-mile drive to Atlanta, the nearest city.

  They drove for about twenty minutes from Lovey’s house and pulled off and parked along a dirt road. Royal had packed some things in a knapsack, and they were now headed up a sloping footpath surrounded by mixed hardwoods. The temperature would spike and the
n recede every time they stepped from sun to shade along the trail. In certain spots the trail passed through thick carpets of lush ferns. The walk was gorgeous. Lovey realized she’d been close to this natural beauty but just had not had the energy or the inclination to venture into the woods on her own. Plus, she didn’t really know where they were going. The route seemed familiar to Royal, and a few times along the way she stopped and pointed out details. Like an ancient fencerow, partially swallowed up by the understory. Or she’d point to where an old home place had once stood, usually marked by a pile of granite stones that had at one time been a chimney.

  As they walked farther, the path began to zigzag, cutting back and forth across the steep grade so as to make the climb easier for whoever might be traveling this way. At one point there were some large boulders they needed to navigate. Royal stepped up first and then reached back for Lovey’s hand. It was the first time they’d touched each other since their outing began, and even that small physical connection between them sent a warm electric surge throughout Lovey’s entire body. The sensation was so sudden and so strong that she almost stumbled.

  “Are you okay?” Royal held her hand firmly as she looked down from her elevated perch.

  “Yes, sorry, my foot just slipped.” Lovey felt silly that Royal had such a strong effect on her. “Where is this place you’re taking me?”

  “It’s called Church Rock.”

  “Why? Because people pray that they’ll reach it?” Lovey was breathing hard. The last few switchbacks had been even steeper. Royal laughed.

  “No, it’s because ministers used to preach up here.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, but I guess they started to lose too many parishioners along the trail due to the climb. Not enough souls made it to the top to be saved.”

  “You’re making that up.” Lovey accepted Royal’s hand again as they climbed over a few more rocks.

  “No, that’s a true story.”

  Royal grinned at Lovey in such a way that Lovey wasn’t completely sure it was a true story, but Royal was so damned adorable when she smiled that Lovey forgot to care about the climb. And in a few moments the trail emptied out onto a large granite outcropping that overlooked the entire valley. The view was so captivating that Lovey had to lean against Royal to steady herself and catch her breath.