Whiskey Sunrise

by Missouri Vaun

  “Have you been writing lately?”

  “I’ve been feeling a bit distracted for some reason. It’s been hard to focus.” Lovey pressed her soft lips to Royal’s fingers, which Royal felt all the way to her toes.

  “What was it that made you start writing? Did you attend college?” Lovey settled her head back under Royal’s chin.

  “No, I stopped after the tenth grade and started driving for my granddad.”

  “What about all the books in your room?”

  “I love to read. Maybe that’s my college. Books.” Royal caressed Lovey’s shoulders and let her hands drift slowly down Lovey’s arms.

  “I loved college.” Lovey picked a clover and twirled it between her fingers. She had to remind herself that to others it might seem that she’d come from a world of intellectual privilege. And now she was in a region populated only with one-room schoolhouses. “I think you would have enjoyed college.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You didn’t really answer my question about what made you start writing.”

  “I’m not sure I can put my finger on any one reason. I’ve always loved books and I love words. I suppose that sounds strange.”

  “Not to me. Language is powerful.”

  “Discovering the perfect word, a word that captures something complex, that makes me feel elated. It makes me feel understood.”

  Lovey watched Royal’s face then prompted her to continue. “Why poetry and not some other style of writing?”

  “During the time after my father died I discovered poetry. My grandfather taught me to drive and then gave me one of his dog-eared poetry collections.”

  “So does your grandfather write also?”

  “No, but I discovered as a child that he had this secret love for poetry.” Royal caressed Lovey’s cheek with her fingers. “He told me that poetry was like bread for the soul.”

  “That’s a lovely way to think about it.”

  “A thoughtfully crafted poem can speak to our deepest selves.”

  Lovey was focusing on Royal’s lips as she spoke and feeling it in the deepest part of herself. If they kept talking in this way Lovey might completely swoon and have to be carried back to the house. She looked out over the pond to give her heart a moment to slow its pace. Feeling a bit more in control of her desire, she turned back to Royal.

  “You should submit your work for publication, Royal. From the small samples I’ve read, you’re quite good.”

  “Yeah, maybe someday. I wouldn’t even know where to start with that.”

  Lovey sank into Royal so that she could kiss her cheek. She was enjoying the comfort of Royal’s arms around her, but she needed to put a little space between them or she’d be so distracted she wouldn’t be able to focus on their conversation. She turned completely, pulling her skirt around her knees, and leaned back on her arm.

  “I only have another couple of months before I start teaching.” Lovey changed the subject and pulled at another clover. She was searching for some luck.

  “I didn’t know you had an assignment.”

  “My father arranged it. That’s why I came back here. It wasn’t working for me to stay in Chicago by myself, and I guess there’s more of a need for teachers in rural areas.”

  “Yeah, because the pay isn’t great and teachers have to be careful not to teach radical notions, like the Earth is round.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Lovey leaned back and studied Royal’s face.

  “There was this really cute teacher a few years ago who was asked to leave because she taught her students that the Earth was round.”

  “I’ll ignore the fact that you said she was cute for a moment. Don’t people in Georgia know the Earth is round?”

  “Some do. And you’ll be happy to know I’m one of them, but others follow scripture to the letter. Several local deacons brought in the Bible and showed her the verse about ‘the four corners of the Earth.’ If the Earth were round there’d be no corners and that would be in conflict with the Good Book.”

  “In that case, this might be a very short career path I’m on.”

  They both laughed.

  “I should probably get to some chores or Momma will be after me. Can I offer you a ride home?” Royal stood and extended a hand to Lovey.

  “That would be sweet, thank you.” They began walking back toward the way they’d come. Lovey twirled a four-leaf clover between her fingers as they sauntered through the tall grassy field.

  When they reached the pole shed where the truck and tractor were parked, Ned was just putting some old weathered boards into the back of the truck. As they drew closer, he gave them a wave and a smile.

  “Well, if it isn’t the bee charmer herself.”

  “I’ll thank you to keep a lady’s secrets, kind sir. It’s Ned, right?”

  Ned bowed deeply. “At your service.”

  “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home before Ned here tries to steal you away from me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Who was that?”

  Lovey had just stepped through the door and quickly realized that her father had seen Royal drop her off at the end of the gravel driveway. He had pulled his spectacles off and was peering out through a small opening in the drapes to get a better view of the driver. Lovey knew that a vague answer wouldn’t satisfy her father this time, so she decided to answer truthfully and try to seem as nonchalant about it as possible so as not to raise his curiosity further.

  “I was out for a walk and Royal Duval offered me a ride home.”

  “Royal Duval, you say?”

  “Yes. Interesting name, don’t you think?” Lovey flopped into a chair and began to flip through a hardcover book she’d lifted from the small side table nearby. She casually noted the title, The Epistle to the Romans, by Karl Barth. Riveting. But she decided the book might provide a distraction from the discussion of Royal. “Is this an interesting book?”

  “It is. It’s a rethinking of our theological heritage from Paul.”

  “Which is?” Lovey knew the book of Romans probably as well as her father; she’d read it many times. But she also knew that explaining things to her made him feel needed.

  “Barth posits that God is revealed in the cross.” He pulled his glasses off as he dropped into the overstuffed chair across from her. “He rebuffs previous attempts to align God with aspects of human culture.”

  Lovey paused on a few pages as she continued to flip through the book. She wasn’t a fan of the apostle Paul, an opinion she kept largely to herself. Hers would not be a welcomed opinion to any Southern Baptist congregation. Where Christ was inclusive and expansive, Paul seemed small to her. And then there was his not so generous view of women. No, Lovey was not a fan of Paul. He was the apostle who came long after Christ’s death. He’d been a Roman, part of the ruling class that persecuted the very sect he now evangelized. Caravaggio’s famous painting of Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus was one of her favorites from her art history studies for the emotion of the intimate event it captured, but still she remained suspicious.

  “You know I’m not a fan of Paul.” Lovey closed the book and put it back on top of the other books stacked neatly on the small table beside her chair. She gave her father her most sincere look. “I don’t really need to rethink him.”

  “Lovey, you know how it bothers me to hear you say this. We’ve been over this before and—”

  “Then why don’t we just agree to disagree and I’ll go start dinner.” She smiled at him, hoping that her tone sounded more playful than argumentative.

  Her father let out a long sigh. “I’ll let the topic rest for the moment.”

  She smiled as she left the room. Royal’s name had not come up again. Her distraction had been a success, for the time being.

  ❖

  Royal stirred the bubbling hot vat of mash with a long wooden stick. The works of the still were shaded from view by a dense canopy of hardwoods. Royal nodded at Ned, indicating for him to s
pell her. He took the stick and began his turn at the pot. They’d headed up to the still after Royal had driven Lovey home and finished other farm chores. The sun was dipping low in the sky as Royal reclined on a nearby stump to watch Ned work. She pulled a long piece of dry grass and put the end of it in her mouth absently.

  “So, things seem to be going well with you and the bee charmer.” Ned wiped at the sweat on his forehead from the heat coming off the cooking pot.

  “So far.”

  “Don’t try to be all nonchalant about it. I can tell you really like her by the way you act around her.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Royal leaned forward on the stump to get a better view of Ned’s expression.

  “I’ve never seen you act nervous around a girl before.”

  “I’m not nervous around her.”

  “Says you.”

  They were quiet for a minute or two before Royal spoke again. “Do you think a girl like Lovey could really go for someone like me?” Royal wasn’t so sure. She felt somehow like under more thorough examination on Lovey’s part she wouldn’t measure up.

  “She seems like she likes you. What’s not to like about the Duvals, right?”

  But before she could respond to Ned, they heard rustling footsteps coming toward them. Royal stood up just as Wade appeared at the edge of the small clearing around the distilling rig.

  Wade didn’t speak but instead, after hesitating for only an instant, went right for Royal. He grabbed her by the shirtfront and shoved her to the ground.

  “What the hell?” Royal scrambled backward and got to her feet.

  “I should be askin’ you that question.” He came at her again, and she shifted so that a thick tree trunk blocked his reach.

  “What’s the matter?” Ned asked.

  “You stay outta this!” Ned visibly flinched when Wade jabbed an accusing finger through the air in his direction.

  “Royal, your momma let it slip that you was with Lovey Porter today. That she actually came by the damn house!”

  “So?”

  “So her father is Abraham Edwards. He and Boyd Cotton are thick as thieves, that’s the so!” She tried to move away from him again but stumbled. Wade grabbed her arm and slapped her hard across the face.

  Royal had suffered Wade’s verbal assaults before, but he’d never hit her. The sting of it tingled across her face. He slapped her again, and she fell backward from the blow. Ned was edging toward them now. Royal motioned him away because she knew he’d had more than his share of his father’s temper.

  “Don’t hit me again, damn you.” She touched her face, and when she pulled her fingers away there was blood. She wasn’t sure if it was from her lip or her nose because the whole side of her face registered the pain of the blow.

  “Well, then you better fucking stay away from Edwards’s daughter. I tolerate your queerie ways, but when you bring that business right to our doorstep you’ve gone too far.” Wade stood over her with clenched fists. She didn’t get up for fear he’d swing at her again.

  “You’re not my father, Wade. Quit acting like you have any say over my life.”

  “No, I’m not your father. Thank God for that small favor.”

  “You don’t get to tell me who I spend time with.”

  “I do and I will.” He reached for her, pulling her up by the front of her soiled shirt.

  When he pulled back to strike, Ned grabbed his arm, which seemed to enrage him further. He spun on Ned and landed a punch to his jaw that sent him to the ground hard. But Ned’s distraction gave Royal just enough time to get to her feet. She put the mash pot between them, the steam from the bubbling mixture creating an eerie, distorted image of Wade’s face from Royal’s viewpoint.

  Fury surged through her system. She was looking around for something she could use to even the fight when Ned grabbed her and pushed her back toward the tree line.

  He urgently whispered in her ear as she pushed against him trying to break away from his grasp. “Let it go. He ain’t worth it. You can’t win this.”

  “You better fucking leave and don’t let me catch you showing that bitch around the place again.”

  Ned kept pushing her back away from the still and down the winding path through the woods back toward the farm. She pulled away from him at one point with every intention to head back and confront Wade.

  “Don’t! Don’t let him get to you! You’ll just get yourself hurt.” He stepped into her path to block her. “Trust me on this. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “God, how do you put up with him? He’s getting worse.” Royal was pacing in a small circle. She ran her hand through her hair trying to calm down. “If he says or does one thing to Lovey…one thing…”

  “He won’t. He wouldn’t.”

  “The day he takes over from Granddad is my last day. It should be yours too.”

  “Just walk it off, Royal. Walk it off.”

  Royal nodded and reluctantly strode ahead of Ned back down the wooded path toward her mother’s house. Her face stung and ached from the strike of Wade’s palm, but her heart rate was finally starting to slow to a normal pace.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The much-anticipated Friday night dinner hour finally arrived. Royal pulled in the driveway and grabbed the flowers she’d picked that lay in a clump on the seat beside her. They were wildflowers of blue and yellow with a few groupings of Queen Anne’s lace thrown in. She practically skipped up the porch steps but paused before knocking, her hand suspended an inch from the door. What if Lovey’s father was still in the house? She looked around for somewhere to stash the flowers, which now seemed like an impulsive mistake, when Lovey opened the door. A big smile spread across her face when she saw the flowers in Royal’s hand.

  “Oh, these are for you.” Royal handed her the flowers. “I had a momentary panic that your father might still be here and so, well, these might have seemed awkward if that had been the case.”

  “He’s long gone. And I love flowers, thank you.” Lovey stepped aside so that Royal could cross the threshold.

  This really felt like a date. Royal rubbed her hands against her trouser-clad thighs. Were her palms actually sweating? Pull it together! She realized Lovey was watching her and so she smiled.

  “Come in the kitchen. Dinner is just about ready and I’ll put these in some water.” Royal followed her. She couldn’t help noticing Lovey’s hips as she walked. The summer weight cotton dress was tailored perfectly to hang low at her waist to highlight her slender, girlish curves. Lovey was so pretty it took Royal’s breath away.

  Lovey looked over her shoulder at Royal as she trimmed the flowers and put them in a tall glass vase. The look she gave Royal hit her full in the chest. She nervously cleared her throat for fear that Lovey was at that instant reading her thoughts, all of which had moved ahead to what she hoped would be happening much later in the evening.

  “What are you thinking?” Lovey asked. Having finished with the flowers, she set them at the end of the kitchen table.

  “Nothing and everything.”

  “You really are a poet, aren’t you?” Lovey motioned toward a place setting already on the table. “Why don’t you sit down and relax?”

  “I’ll sit down, but I’m not sure I can relax. Am I the only one who’s nervous? Why am I so nervous?” She asked the question aloud, but directed it more to herself.

  “I’m not sure, but I’m a little nervous myself. I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Lovey poured iced tea for both of them and set a glass in front of Royal. “Why don’t we just sit and talk until it passes?”

  “Okay.” Royal let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair. “Can I help with anything?”

  Lovey looked up and checked the kitchen clock. “No, everything is ready, I think. I made baked chicken with potatoes and carrots. Nothing fancy. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Anything will be great.” Royal’s stomach was so full of butterflies she expected not to be able to eat much an
yway.

  Lovey busied herself serving the food. She leaned over Royal’s shoulder, balancing one hand there as she settled the plate in front of her. She kissed Royal lightly on the cheek before taking her own seat. She watched with pleasure as Royal took a few bites of the dinner she’d prepared and smiled in her direction.

  Not for the first time, Lovey was struck by how truly classically handsome Royal was. Not quite feminine, not quite masculine, but rather androgynously good-looking. She sensed she was making Royal a little self-conscious by studying her so intently. Averting her eyes with great effort, she tasted a few forkfuls of her supper.

  “Ever since I saw the bullet hole in your car I’ve been wanting to ask more about what you do.” Lovey took another bite, chewing slowly, watching Royal’s face again.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I guess I want to know why you do it? Why deliver moonshine at such risk?”

  “Well, it’s not the risk I’m after. Oh, well, maybe a little risk is invigorating if I were to be truthful. But what it really is for me is the driving. I love to drive fast.”

  “You could drive fast without the moonshine.”

  “I suppose you’re right, but I wouldn’t get paid to do it.”

  “So it’s the driving and the money then?”

  Royal seemed to be considering the question. “Yes. If I could figure out another way to get paid for driving I’d surely consider it.”

  “Do you ever drink the stuff you deliver?”

  “No, I really prefer whiskey.”

  “I guess I don’t know the difference.” Lovey realized her Southern Baptist upbringing had her at a disadvantage when it came to spirits of the liquid denomination.

  “Whiskey is aged in oak. Some folks say moonshine is whiskey without the wood. Moonshine is young and raw.”

  The low tenor in Royal’s voice as she described the difference gave Lovey’s stomach a twist. Young and raw, indeed.

  “What were we sipping the other night at your place?” asked Lovey.