Natural Bridges

by Debbie Lynn McCampbell

  Daddy was waiting for an answer.

  “Car trouble,” I lied. “Brakes are sticking. I didn’t want to chance it with the roads slick.” I hurried past him, stepped inside.

  “You should have called,” he said.

  While Momma was making breakfast, I went in the bathroom and washed my face with cold water. I sat down on the toilet and tried to think of how to get Culler out of the house now that everyone was up. I hoped he was still asleep. I must have been in there too long, devising a plan, because someone knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Me.”

  It was Birdie.

  I opened the door.

  “You look sick,” she said.

  “I’m okay. Is the coffee ready?”

  “Yeah, but we’re waiting on Daddy to eat. He’s in the basement, drying off.”

  I stood up quickly, ran past Birdie, through the kitchen, downstairs.

  Daddy was standing at the bottom of the steps, arms folded. He was waiting for me.

  Culler was sitting up in the pile of laundry; his face as white as the sheets he used to cover himself. He looked a mess, afraid.

  “Fern,” said Daddy, voice shaky.

  “Daddy, let me explain,” I began. I was about to be sick.

  “I’ll listen to nothing,” he said. Then he turned to Culler. “This is my house, and there are rules. You need to leave, son. Right now.”

  “Daddy, we were too tired to drive home. We were going to wait until—”

  “—I said I don’t want to hear it.” He looked back at Culler one more time, glowered. Then started up the stairs. He passed me, looked right into my eyes. His were red. “You’re a liar,” he said and slammed the door into the kitchen.

  33. The Smoldering

  The stress in the house was so thick after Culler left that I made my decision fast. I went upstairs and began packing my things. Culler had insisted on walking to a pay phone and taking a cab home. I didn’t even think a cab would come all the way out to Leeco, but he was hard set. He’d promised to call me later.

  By the time I made my last trip, it was almost daybreak. I stood at the back door, gazed out into the dim light. The sky was overcast, ash gray. The air was still smoky from the fire, but the tension smoldering at home was worse. It was hard to take that first step, but I knew what I had to do.

  I counted six stars shining through the clouds, and made five wishes. I would save one for later. Then I lifted my bags, stepped out into my freedom.

  I had proposed to move into the little house Grandma had vacated and arranged to pay Daddy rent biweekly. It only took four trips to move my things up there, with the top down in my car. The house had three rooms: a living room, bedroom, and the kitchen. I took my Jenny Lind bed and dresser and some of Grandma’s dishes and kitchen appliances we had stored in the basement.

  Momma was bitter at me about the whole incident, but she was more hurt than angry. I had disappointed her. Everyone assumed I, not just Culler, had slept in the basement that night. What bothered Momma the most, though, was the fact that Daddy wouldn’t speak to me, nor her. He blamed my lack of morals on her raising of me.

  For the first three days, I had no contact with any of the family except Birdie. She would walk up the hill after school, help me clean and put things away. Momma, in spite of herself, sent Bird up with some extra pot holders and a juice pitcher.

  The house felt strange, and looked different than it did when Grandma’d lived there. She had the place stuffed with things, most of which we’d pitched. When I hung some of my own pictures from home, they seemed almost offensive on the walls. The place issued forth a sense of grandmotherdom.

  I hung the picture of me and Culler at Natural Bridge Park over my bed. It kept my guilt in check.

  I knew I would have to add furniture slowly. It took a whole paycheck to turn on the water and power and buy some food staples. I would have to wait on a phone.

  I didn’t really have time to be depressed about what was happening as I was so busy scrubbing, painting, repairing, and organizing things. Birdie was good company and helped me ease into being alone. She stayed late one night when I made chili macs, and she ate with me.

  The oddest thing I suppose about it all, the hardest part to understand, was that I couldn’t remember anyone acting this mad at Florabelle when she’d disappointed them. There was no doubt at all about what she’d done; Daisy was blossoming proof.

  Subconsciously, I think I was waiting for some sign. Either some surprise blessing that would let me know God understood and forgave me, or some lurking evil, bad news, and I’d know I was doomed.

  Somehow, though, I didn’t feel as guilty as I probably should have, as I’d always expected to. I believed that I loved Culler, and what we did seemed right to me. Luckily, I didn’t have much time to dwell on it. I had to think about getting my house and life situated. Living alone was new territory. It would take some getting used to.

  But in God’s eyes, I guess the truth was known. Thou shall not fornicate out of wedlock. I didn’t recollect where it actually said that in the Bible, but that was Grandma’s and Reverend Whitaker’s translation of committing adultery. Where once a tire gauge and then a pocket flashlight adorned my chest, I now imagined a scarlet A.

  34. The Chair

  The third day out, Hazel showed up at my door. She had a lazy boy chair she didn’t think she really needed anymore, no one ever sat in it, and she wanted help unloading it into my living room.

  Once inside, she sat down on it, the only chair in the room now, and I made coffee for us. I even had some cream and saccharin; she took both.

  “So how long do you think your Daddy will stay mad?” she asked, engaging the footrest.

  “I don’t know. Seems he’s always mad. He’s angry with life these days.” I poured cream into my mug. “Has he asked about me?”

  Hazel shook her head. “Just told your Momma you better be good for your rent money.”

  I was sitting on the floor in front of her. I crossed my legs, blew across the top of my coffee mug. “Has anyone called there for me?”

  “Not that I know of.” Hazel reached into her hip pocket for her cigarettes. “Do you mind if I smoke in here?”

  “Go ahead, but I don’t have an ashtray.”

  “I’ll watch it.” She lit one, looked around the bare room. “I feel like I’m doing something wrong, you know your Grandma never allowed anyone to smoke in here. It must seem strange being here, without that old orange vinyl chair of hers, all them damn plants, Billy Graham a’ blaring on the TV set.”

  “Yeah, it’s sort of creepy. I feel like she’s still here, though. At night, I think I hear her digging through the drawers for her Dristan.”

  Hazel blew smoke and chuckled. “I bet you do. She always had to have several bottles of it around, most of them empty. She still does that.”

  “Does she know I’m living here now?”

  “No, I didn’t want to tell her. For one thing, this whole mess with your Dad would get her upset, and she still has high hopes of getting better and coming back here. Taking care of herself, living alone again.”

  “How is she doing?”

  “Not too good. She’s tired all the time, getting meaner, too. You know, she still won’t return that crown.”

  I looked down, hid a smile.

  “And get this. Some of the staff claim she’s got a thing going with this old guy, Earl’s his name. Crippled and hard of hearing.”

  I looked up, curious. “I met him. So is she?”

  Hazel kicked the footrest back down, leaned forward, smirked. “Let me tell you this one on her. Growing up, we were Church of God. Strict Church of God. That meant no swearing, no dancing, no drinking. We weren’t even allowed to have a deck of cards in the house. That was gambling. Well, when it came to sex, your grandma always used to be hushed about it. Then as we got older and started asking questions, she told us she just tolerated it with Grand
pa, so she could have children. Tolerated it; that was her word. Now come to realize, in her old age, she’s as horny as a toad.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” I smiled, thinking about my own predicament. “What did she do?”

  “I’m getting to it.” Hazel laughed. “Her and this fellow, Earl, they’re always together. They watch the TV all day long sometimes. Well, one of the nurses, the one who gives us her daughter’s clothes for Bird, she got this idea to build Esther’s confidence, improve her attitude, by giving her some responsibilities. See, Earl has little to no bladder control, and sometimes he tries and anticipates the urge and warns someone so they can wheel him to a bathroom. And I’ll tell you this, your Grandma moves as slow as a crippled turtle, always complaining she’s so stiff, but I swear it, when Earl tells her he needs to go, she pushes him down that hallway faster than a scalded dog.”

  Hazel got up, walked to the door, opened it, ashed her cigarette, came back to the chair. “So this one night, she, the nurse, walks into the TV lounge, and there’s Earl, lying on the couch with his pants down, his feeble little old legs spread wide open, and your grandma standing there tickling him.”

  “You’re kidding me,” I said, laughing.

  “Even with her arthritis, she had the tape of his Depends ripped right off!” Then Hazel got the hysterics.

  “What did the nurse say?”

  “She was shocked! Just turned around and left them. She said Esther looked more guilty than a suck-egg dog.”

  “I just can’t believe it,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I was just as doubtful, but now that I’ve been watching them two together, I’m starting to see it for myself. The whole idea was to give your Grandma some more get up and get. Well, I’ve seen with my own two eyes what she gets up and got.”

  “So, has Grandma told you, or anyone, about him? Does she say she likes him?”

  Hazel threw her arms over her head. “Denies everything. Bad part about it is he’s married. His wife’s in one of the Carolinas, rich old lady, stepping in some high cotton and never comes to visit him.”

  “Whatever happened with that trouble with Mossie?”

  “Oh, she’s better now, still as crazy as a loon, but she’s fine. That was sure something about that daughter-in-law of hers, robbing her like that. Creating that ruckus at the party.”

  “Yeah, that was cruel. And now we can be sure of who pulled that stunt with Florabelle’s wedding cake, too.”

  “That’s right, must be Patty’s trademark, leaving a sign in the cake icing. That’s just crazy.”

  “Is she in jail?”

  “No, no one pressed any charges, but her husband left her.”

  “Can’t say I blame him. Love’s sure a strange thing.” I stood up, stretching. “Want some more coffee?”

  “Maybe one more cup, then I got to get going. I’m so tired, I’m dead on my feet.”

  When I brought Hazel her mug, she said. “So, Fern, speaking of love, tell me about this boy, Culler.”

  I jiggled a jar of nails on the floor. “What about him?”

  “Are you in love?” She batted her eyes at me, like a toad in a hailstorm.

  “I don’t know, I guess. We get along.”

  “Is it true, what your Daddy says? He found him in your basement with his clothes shuck off?”

  “He said that?”

  Hazel nodded, winked.

  “He probably was naked, but I wasn’t down there with him. I was upstairs in my room.”

  “Well, Fern, times have changed. Like I said, when I was your age, all that stuff was forbidden. If I would’ve got caught up to mischief like that, I’d been sent away. But it’s so different these days, people see things in a whole different way. They’re more accepting.”

  “Momma sure ain’t.”

  “That’s true, your Momma is still pretty old-fashioned. She still goes by the old book. Probably always will.” Hazel swallowed her last sip. “Hell, if your Grandma can do the hanky-panky, so can you.” She laughed. “You do what’s right in your book.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know what I think, what’s right or wrong when it comes to those things. It seems it’s always some special circumstance. I’m waiting for some sign to tell me.”

  “Well, the sign’s going to come from inside. Just search your heart, as they say. Can’t afford to be superstitious about it.” Hazel covered a yawn, shifted in the chair. “No sense in worrying about it, either. I made that mistake with your Uncle Ben. You said yourself that love is strange. Well, it sure is. When me and Ben first got married, I worried all the time, worked myself up over everything. Always fretted and wondering whether I did the right thing in marrying him, whether or not he’d always love me. But you never can be sure. You just have to give it a go and work at it. You decide and you do it. Well, I learned that too late. Worried him right out the door.”

  Hazel stared off a few moments, stood up, carried her mug to the sink. “I got to be getting back down the hill. Got to work the breakfast tomorrow.”

  “I have to get up early, too.”

  “You like that new job?”

  “A lot.”

  “Well, don’t bring none of those diseased cows home, you hear? We’ve had enough bouts with animals around this place.”

  “Don’t worry. Tell Grandma hi for me. Maybe I’ll come up this weekend to see her.” I walked Hazel to the door. “Thanks for the chair.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll see if there’s anything else to scrounge up I don’t use.” She walked back inside, checked around the chair to see if she’d dropped any ashes on the carpet. “Remember, love’s first a feeling. It’s a decision later. Take it slow. Right now, go with the feeling. You’re young, and you ought to enjoy it while it lasts.” She gave me a little hug. “Lock this door now.”

  I watched her walk down the hill until she disappeared, thinking about what she’d said. She was right: I should just go with my feelings. That’s what Grandma was doing, anyway. And she would have sat here and given me the same advice.

  Relaxed for the first time in three days, I sat down in my new chair, my only chair. My new seat of wisdom.

  35. This Little Light of Mine

  The weekend came, but I had too much to do to go to Lexington. I wanted to see Culler, but I needed to run errands and work around the house. The place was long in need of repair; it had been even while Grandma’d lived there. Daddy just never seemed to have the time to put into it, nor the money. Only thing he’d kept up was the shed out back.

  I spent all day Saturday painting the outside of the house. I had decided on sunshine yellow with white trim. Birdie helped me by holding the ladder. I asked her if anyone had called for me, and she said no.

  Sunday morning, I went to early church service and prayed for a light to be shed on my situation. I was still confused about what had happened between Culler and me. Not that I worried that I was pregnant, although the thought did enter my mind. But I could only wait and see on that.

  I’d seen Momma and Birdie up front, but they didn’t see me slip into a back pew. I missed Momma, wondered how she was doing, but didn’t want to confront her until she was ready first.

  It was hard driving down the hill each morning, passing the house I’d lived in for three years. But worse than seeing my own home where I was no longer welcome was having to look at Clem’s lot, burned to the ground, nothing standing but a charred Pepsi machine. The county had razed what was left of the support walls. I worried about Clem, cried about him for two nights. I could only hope he’d made out all right with his insurance.

  After church, I drove to Mac’s and used a pay phone to call Culler. He wasn’t there, so I left a message with his roommate. Then I tried calling Connie, who was also gone. I missed them both and decided to get a phone hooked up on Monday. I felt so out of touch with folks now. It was just me, my work, and my thoughts.

  I went in the store for some food and household items and filled my cart with mostly soup and
spaghetti. That was cheap, and it tasted good on a cold day. All the rain we’d had was turning to sleet now. Winter was coming.

  When I got to the check-out line, Grover Flynn, the owner of the local fish camp, was in front of me buying beer.

  “Fern,” he said, tipping his dirty cap. “Where have you been hiding? You haven’t been in to buy bait in a long time.”

  “I’m working full-time now, at an animal clinic up in Powell County. Not much time for fishing these days, unfortunately. How’s business?”

  “Well, you know it slows down when it gets this cold, no one wants to weather it. A few pike are running, but that’s about it. What about your job, they paying you decent?”

  “Pretty good,” I said, unloading my cart onto the counter.

  Grover looked at my items. “They must be paying you more than old Clem did, for you to afford all them vittles.” He smiled.

  I looked up. “Have you talked to him lately, since the fire I mean?”

  “Yeah, he’s been in a few times, looking for trouble. He wants to buy me out.” Grover paid for his beer, stepped back to give me room at the counter. “Says when he gets his insurance settlement, he’s going to buy the camp and turn it into some big year-round fishing resort.” He snickered, shook his head. “That Clem, he’s a crazy man.”

  “So he did get his money?”

  “Well, not yet, but it should be coming to him soon. They’re still tying up some loose ends. It’s got to be positive it ain’t arson, then it’s all just a matter of getting the paperwork through.”

  “Well, nobody would’ve set fire to Clem. He doesn’t have one enemy.”

  “That’s for sure, the man ain’t got no evil bone in his body.”

  “Then why don’t they just pay him his money?” I asked, beginning to worry.

  “The story goes that when they was cleaning up the place, the investigators found some lamp that had been burning. They don’t know if it was the cause of anything, but they got to check it out. Clem don’t deny the lamp was his, but claims he don’t remember getting it out and using it. They think more likely, it was the lightning.”