Cast a Road Before Me

by Brandilyn Collins

  I stopped abruptly, blinking at the inexplicable tinge of desperation in my last sentence.

  “Okay, Jessie,” Uncle Frank said. “You have our blessin’. You know we love you. Maybe your plans will take you where God wants you to go. One thing I know, he can work for our good no matter what we do. But regardless of where you live, I still pray—and I know your aunt will too—that you will come to know Christ personally. Because only through him are you goin’ to find true meanin’ for your life. His purpose for you is the perfect plan. So no matter how great your own is, you could be missin’ out on the very best.”

  Aunt Eva started to say something, but Uncle Frank took the napkin from his lap and placed it on the table with finality. “All right, then, favorite niece.” He pushed back his chair. “We promise not to preach to ya anymore. We’ll just let God do his own work. Right Eva?”

  Stymied, she pressed her lips together, giving her husband a look. Then, with a little huff, she wagged her head in my direction. “Right.”

  chapter 24

  You hear ‘bout Thomas ‘n’ Jake yesterday?” The lid on his metal lunchbox clanked as he withdrew a sandwich. He inspected his grimy hands, wiped them half-heartedly on his sawdusted shirt, and unwound the plastic wrap.

  “Whole town’s heared. Wish I coulda seen it.”

  “Yeah,” a third worker grunted, biting into a thick, home-canned pickle, “I can just see Jake’s face, red as a rooster’s comb. Hey, is that some a your wife’s barbecued pork on that bun?”

  “It is, and you keep your grubby hands off.”

  “My hands. Look at yours.” The rest of the pickle disappeared into his mouth. “His wife makes the best barbecued pork I ever tasted. But don’t tell mine I said so.”

  “I never thought I’d hear a Jake in jail,” the second man added.

  “Aw, he didn’t spend the night in jail.”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “He did not.”

  “That’s what I heared.”

  “Well, you heared wrong. He roared off in his car; wouldn’t have none of it. Bill Scutch didn’t expect him to do that anyway; he was just playin’ along with Thomas. The two a them’s close as stacked crackers.”

  “If I know Jake Lewellyn,” the first man said around a mouthful of pork, “he won’t show his face for a week.”

  “The July Fourth parade is Thursday. He wouldn’t think a lettin’ Thomas lead it by hisself.”

  “Guess so. Hank tol’ me Thomas shouted, ‘I still got your marble!’”

  They all laughed. “That musta hurt.”

  “You think that marble really exists?”

  “Oh, yeah. I seen it myself one time I was over to the Matthews. Real pretty, black and silver, just like the story says. Thomas has the thing settin’ in a child’s play teacup on his bookcase. Tol’ me he polishes it ever mornin’ along with his medals.”

  “Jake’ll never git it back.”

  “Jake’ll never quit tryin’.”

  “My last bite a barbecue. Wonder if I should share it?” The first man considered his coworker’s anticipation. “Naw.” He shoved it into his mouth.

  “Some friend you—”

  “Hey. There’s Riddum.”

  “It’s still lunchtime.”

  “No, it ain’t, it’s 1:00.”

  “But we didn’t set down till 12:30.”

  “That’s y’all’s fault. He’s lookin’ this way.”

  “Too bad. I’m gonna finish my lunch.”

  “Me too.”

  “Not me. He’s headin’ this way and I’m goin’ back to work. Y’all’re crazy if you stick around. A few bites ain’t worth it.”

  “Doggone it all! Wait, I’m comin’.”

  “Well, good fer the both a ya. I ain’t movin’ till my lunch hour’s over.”

  chapter 25

  By midmorning Tuesday I’d finished my blue dress. Luckily, I’d had all the thread I needed. Wasn’t it humorous, I thought with sarcasm as I donned the dress, that I’d gone to see Alice Eder for nothing. Now I would have to find a tactful way to deny her request. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror, I admired my own handiwork, turning this way and that. The color was certainly striking against my hair. Yet I felt no joy in the dress’s completion.

  Sighing, I took it off and hung it with the others in my closet. What to do now? The day stretched before me. The last thing I wanted to do was start on another project. I was tired of sewing; it left my mind too open to thoughts of Lee. And, goodness knows, they’d plagued me ever since Sunday. Last night, after that strained discussion with my aunt and uncle at supper, I’d sat before my machine, tensed, waiting for the phone to ring—even while knowing the ball was in my court. I was supposed to be returning his call. I just couldn’t do it. I really wanted to, but I couldn’t. How could I explain to him my sudden avoidance? How could I make him understand the intensity of my desire to move back to Cincinnati? And why should I have to, anyway? I’d had enough discussions about the subject with my aunt and uncle. I was tired of explaining myself.

  I sighed again loudly, my gaze drifting to my sewing machine. Compared to Alice Eder’s, it seemed hopelessly antiquated. How great it would be to make my next dress in her shop. The stitchings I could create, in no time! Standing in the middle of my bedroom, hands on my hips, I stared at Mom’s old machine, mulling. I wondered how much a new machine like Miss Alice’s would cost. Maybe I’d just drive into Albertsville after all, look around at new models. Looking wouldn’t cost me anything. And it would give me something else to think about.

  I walked over to the dresser and picked up my hairbrush.

  Driving out of town on 622, every window in my car rolled down, I couldn’t help but smile as I passed the Bradleyville sign. What a kick it had been, watching for cars while Thomas painted over that number. A mile or so farther on the right lay the long, tree-lined driveway that belonged to the Riddums. Automatically, I slowed, gazing down the leafy path. At its end, the Riddums’ new porch pillars gleamed white under the hot sun. Unexpected anger jolted me. I didn’t know the man, but he sure sounded greedy and sour.

  My head swiveled back to the road, my foot pressing the accelerator. I was not going to think about the sawmill—or any other problems—for the rest of the day.

  In Albertsville, I walked into Sears expectantly, only to be informed that they didn’t carry the model I was looking for. I lingered awhile, looking at other machines, but soon grew restless. The clerk sent me across town to a store that displayed every kind of machine I could imagine. As I’d guessed, Miss Alice’s was the top of the line. And, of course, far too expensive for me to ever buy, given the low salary I’d be making. I left the store dejectedly and found myself back at Sears, trying on shoes, considering purses, even looking at earrings, something I never wore. By the time I drove back to Bradleyville, it was 5:00, time to start supper. I’d bought two pairs of shoes, a purse, three pairs of earrings, a blouse, and skirt. Never had I been so impulsive. What’s wrong with me, I lamented as I rounded the curves outside town. I was almost ready to turn around and take back the items. Without a doubt, I was getting more antsy about going to Cincinnati every minute.

  It was as if spending all that money on career clothes somehow cemented my plans.

  After supper that evening, Connie phoned. “Can you come over?” she wheezed.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just tired. But I’d love to see you.”

  I hesitated.

  “Lee’s almost done with the rooms; you should see ‘em. He said he’d be paintin’ by this weekend. We want the smell gone by the time the baby arrives. Could you help me pick colors?”

  Connie desperately needed a friend, and I knew I should be there for her. Thinking of all the wasted time shopping, I flinched at my selfishness. I could have visited her while Lee was at work. All the same, her plea had a certain … timing. “What colors were you thinking of?”

  “I don’t know. Pale yellow maybe. Or blue
. But then what if it’s a girl?”

  “Blue’s always nice.”

  “I suppose. Who’d want pink walls anyway?”

  We fell silent. I tried to imagine the awkwardness—and anticipation—of seeing her brother.

  “Am I bothering you?” Her words were tentative.

  “Of course not. And I’d love to come, really. Let me just … finish what I was doing and I’ll be over.”

  “Good! Mom’s baked a dessert. Apple fritter.”

  I pictured Miss Wilma rocking about a hot kitchen on her bad hip. Timing indeed.

  Lee was in the back rooms, working, when I arrived. Well, I huffed to myself, if he couldn’t even take the time to say hello to a guest, I didn’t need to go see him, either. My gaze fell on Connie. She looked terrible. Her hands and feet were more swollen than before, as was her face. She could barely move from the couch. I knelt beside her on the carpet. “You look so hot.”

  She smiled faintly. “Heck, it’s 7:30. This is cool.”

  “How about if I get a cold washcloth for your face?”

  “I’ve tried that,” Miss Wilma put in, “but it just gets warm so quick. It’s hard for me to keep runnin’ back and forth.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here.” I fetched a clean washcloth from the bathroom, then went to the kitchen to search for a large pan, which I filled with ice cubes and water.

  “Here.” Kneeling again beside Connie, I dunked the cloth in the water and wrung it out. She placed it over her entire face.

  “Aahh, feels good.” Her lips moved under the terrycloth. A few moments later I dunked it again.

  “This baby’s got to come soon; this is too hard on you.”

  She put her hands over the washcloth and choked on a sudden sob.

  “Oh, Connie.” I squeezed her shoulder.

  “I’m so scared,” she whispered. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this by myself.”

  “You’re not by yourself,” I crooned. “You’ve got Lee and your Mama and me. And Christ.”

  Why had I said that? The words felt awkward on my tongue.

  “But I got no husband. I hate Bart. And I hate Tammy; I hate her!”

  Her outburst didn’t last long. Just time enough for Miss Wilma to move to the end of the couch and begin patting her feet. “Oh, darlin’,” she breathed. “Oh, Lord Jesus, help us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Connie sniffed into the tissue I’d brought her. “I shouldn’t have said that. You must think I’m a big silly thing.”

  “I don’t think you’re silly.” I pushed my knuckles playfully into her arm. “Just big.” She smiled in spite of herself. “I think you’re really strong to be going through this so well. I couldn’t do it.”

  “I don’t think I’m doin’ all that well. Mama’s right; without Jesus’ help, I couldn’t do it at all.”

  I brushed a strand of hair off her forehead, still cool from the cloth. “I’m glad you found him.”

  “I didn’t find him; he found me.” She managed a grin. “The only thing I need to find now is a man.”

  Miss Wilma and I laughed, then fell silent. I gazed from mother to daughter, both with their own aloneness, then busied myself, dunking the washcloth. Miss Wilma grew interested in a bird outside the window. Connie covered her face again. From down the hall floated noises of Lee at work.

  “Well, guess it’s time for some apple fritter,” Miss Wilma announced, disappointment in her voice.

  “I’ll get it.” Pushing away from the couch, I rose. Then, stupidly, stared at nothing out the window. With a sigh, I swept wet hands through my hair. “Actually, could you wait a minute? I should go say hi to Lee.”

  Miss Wilma tried to appear nonchalant.

  I found him throwing fragments of wood and wiring into a box, sweat running down his neck. For a moment he didn’t know I was there, and I watched him move, shoulder blades gliding under his T-shirt, muscles flexing. The mere sight of him sent sparks through me. My heart quickened. I wanted to feel those muscles, run my hands over them. He turned, though I’d made no sound, and straightened, standing stiffly. We looked at each other, and I saw why he had not called again. He’d hung his heart out on a line, and I had turned away. His vulnerability was now palpable. His expression was guarded, almost defensive. In that moment, I knew my next words would determine the path we’d take while I remained in Bradleyville. I also knew, still, that nothing could stop my leaving. It would be so much easier on us both to cut things short right now.

  “I’ve missed you,” my mouth said.

  The words unfurrowed his face. In five steps he crossed the room. When he wrapped his arms around me, I didn’t mind that he smelled of sweat and dust. I held him tightly. “Connie wants me to help her with colors,” I blurted into his chest. “She needs so much, and I haven’t done enough for her. Let me help you paint this weekend. Also, I think I’ll make her some curtains.”

  He looked at me with gratitude in his eyes. “You don’t have to do all that.”

  I pulled back from him self-consciously and gazed around the bare walls. “I think pale yellow would be nice for both rooms, don’t you? The curtains could be sunny and bright, with a matching blanket for the baby. I’m a good seamstress; did you know that? I could make her all kinds of—”

  “Hush, chatterbox.” He bent down and kissed me, his lips warm and lingering. I clung to him, barely able to breathe.

  Later, over two helpings of highly cinnamoned apple fritter, a radiant Connie and I discussed decorating details, with Miss Wilma and Lee adding ideas. “Everything will be beautiful,” I said to Connie before Lee walked me to my car. “And you will be fine, you’ll see. Also, Connie,” I took her hand, “would you promise me something? When your labor starts, would you call, even if it’s the middle of the night? I’d really like to be with you.”

  With tears in her eyes, she promised.

  That night in bed, I thought long and hard. The next morning I went to see Miss Alice. How about we strike a deal, I told her. I’d work four or five hours a day if I could use her sewing machine for myself the rest of the time. She was delighted.

  chapter 26

  Land sakes, what a week,” Aunt Eva declared Friday at supper as she buttered a roll. “Thomas and Jake spattin’, a July Fourth parade in the rain, and Blair Riddum’s actin’ crazier than ever, accordin’ to folks. You may a been quiet, Frank, but just about everyone who comes into the post office has a tale to tell.” She stirred her tea for no reason, ice cubes clicking. “You and Lee looked awful cute together at the parade,” she added, feigning an afterthought.

  Cute. I’d looked like a drowned rat, with one of Lee’s work shirts drippingly held over my head. The heavens had burst open while I was at his house helping Connie get a pair of her mother’s shoes on. She could not see her own feet. We’d all planned to watch the parade together, but Miss Wilma quailed at the rain, saying she’d seen enough Independence Day parades for one lifetime anyway. Connie would not be turned back; she felt housebound enough to sit through a torrent. The rain soon softened to a drizzle, allowing the parade to begin only a half hour late, which was near-record time. But I was already soaked, having stopped to help an overwhelmed third-grade teacher mold her amorphous class into marching formation.

  Everyone always came to the annual parade, which began downtown and made a beeline up Main toward Route 622. Folks from the country drove in, their cars lining side streets and the two church parking lots. The parade was the same every year, but no one cared. After all, kids were a year older and, one hoped, the town band a year better. A filly too young to show off last year would now be a full-grown mare, with patriotic ribbons braided into her mane, and two previous high school juniors would now wear the senior king and queen crowns.

  Despite their latest feuding—which had given the edgy town something to laugh about, just as he had hoped—Thomas and Jake led the parade, waving side by side from one of the town’s two wailing fire engines. Bill Scutch and his family followed i
n the police car, and behind them fanned a cacophony of sounds and sights, from toddlers to retired school teachers, all decked out in red, white, and blue. A popular favorite was a large group of mill workers wearing wigs and housedresses while pushing IGA shopping carts and pretending to fight over groceries. Connie had to sit down on the curb, she laughed so hard.

  “Why aren’t you out there?” I shouted to Lee.

  “Not on your life!” He hugged me, grinning.

  Remembering the parade, I couldn’t help but smile at Aunt Eva’s remark. It had been sheer fun and a welcome relief from my own conflicts and the town’s as well. I’d felt so right standing with Lee and Connie, seeing all the familiar faces of Bradleyville. At that moment Cincinnati seemed as far away as China. All the same, today, after five hour’s work for Miss Alice, I’d started on another dress.

  Aunt Eva looked pleased with herself. But when she glanced at her husband, her animation waned. “You haven’t said one thing since ya came home, Frank. You have a bad day?”

  My uncle ladled lima beans onto his plate and salted them down. His hair was still wet from a shower, and his shirt pocked with water droplets, as if he’d been too preoccupied to dry off carefully.

  “Come on, Frank,” she urged.

  Memories of our discussion Monday evening slowed my chewing. Here we were at the table once more, with Uncle Frank looking mighty serious. I braced myself for another encounter.

  “Well,” he said slowly, cutting into a chicken breast, “it’s been a long two weeks since Lee and I talked to Riddum.”

  That was it. Aunt Eva eyed him expectantly, eyebrows raised. The longer his silence, the farther over her plate she leaned.

  “And?” she burst.

  “I want to eat my supper, Eva,” he replied mildly. “Then we’ll talk.” Aunt Eva seemed taken aback, but acquiesced. She was suddenly very interested in her meal. Uncle Frank ate another bite of chicken, then looked at me. “You been workin’ hard, huh.”