The Promise of Jesse Woods

by Chris Fabry

  “Okay,” she said. “I got my daddy’s clippers and it’s not that cold at night. By Sunday we can move back in.”

  “You’re going to sleep outside?”

  “It’s either that or the kerosene. But you got to get to Daisy if I don’t make it in time.”

  “I’ll get her. Don’t worry.”

  “You’d better keep clear of us after today,” Jesse said, opening a window. “I don’t want them jumping on you.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Close this when I’m outside. And watch for me on the road when you go home. If I’m still walking when you pass, get Daisy.”

  I closed the window after she jumped down, feeling like I was watching Steve McQueen jumping the barbed wire in The Great Escape. I spent the entire ride home looking for her. We got to the Halfway Market and I hoped someone had given her a ride. Then I saw her, by the Buckner farm, swinging her arms and walking fast, her hair swirling in the exhaust and dust from the bus as we passed.

  The bus driver did a double take, leaned out and looked in the side mirror, but kept driving. When we reached the stop by the gas station, I got off in a gaggle of kids so the driver wouldn’t notice and headed to pick up Daisy.

  The woman who cared for her lived in a small white house with a chain-link fence surrounding it, Jesse’s bike propped against the fence. There were toys in the overgrown front yard and a swing set in back. A rusty tricycle lay on its side by the front door. I rang the bell. When no one answered, I knocked and the door opened.

  “Matty!” Daisy Grace said from somewhere inside. The room was dark and there were gates up to block the kids from getting into the kitchen.

  “Can I help you?” a woman said. She had a round face and a black tooth on the left side.

  “Jesse Woods had to stay late at school and asked if I’d bring Daisy Grace home.” I tried to sound authoritative.

  “Well, I don’t have the okay from her mother. I can’t just let you take her.”

  I resisted the urge to ask if she’d ever seen Daisy’s mother. “I understand. I’d feel the same way. I’m Matt Plumley. My father is the new pastor in town.”

  This news seemed to calm her somewhat.

  “Jesse comes to my house to use the phone and we try to help her family out as much as we can.”

  “That’s nice of you. If her mama had a phone, I’d call her, but she don’t.”

  “Right. Well, I guess I could just wait here and make sure Jesse shows up.”

  The woman looked back at Daisy and seemed to have no big attachment. “If Jesse asked you to pick her up, I’m all right with it. You wait.”

  She got Daisy’s things, which consisted of Daisy’s coat and a metal lunch box with a picture of Charlie Brown raring back on the pitcher’s mound.

  “You tell her not to do this again. I need her mama to come in and set some things straight. And she needs to pay by the end of the week.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I retrieved Jesse’s bike while Daisy Grace stood on the porch and waited. I figured this was their routine.

  “Where’s Jesse?”

  “She had to stay at school. She asked me to get you. Do you want to stop at the gas station and get a pop?”

  The girl’s eyes widened and I put my books in the front basket and we rode to the gas station. Daisy made the grape Nehi last a lot longer than I did. I’d returned the bottles and was trying to figure out what to do next when a car drove up and parked at one of the pumps. Jesse got out, thanked the woman driving, and ran to us.

  “Matty got me a grape!” Daisy said.

  “That’s good,” Jesse said. Then, to me, “So you got her all right?”

  “The woman wasn’t happy, but she let us go.”

  “You have a good day, Daisy Grace?” Jesse said, her face right next to her sister’s.

  “Yeah,” Daisy said, scratching the top of her head.

  “Come on, let’s go home.”

  Jesse pushed the bike with Daisy in it and I walked beside them, asking what she was going to do.

  “Today’s Thursday. If we sleep outside tonight and tomorrow night, they should be dead by Saturday. Sunday at the latest.”

  “You’re just going to wait ’em out?”

  “I’ll need to get our sheets and pillows to the Laundromat. That’s what that woman was saying who picked me up. Wash everything in hot water.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t kick you out of her car.”

  “I told her it was my cousins. People are a lot more helpful when they’re trying to solve other people’s problems.”

  “You can sleep back on our hill,” I said. “Dickie’s tent’s still up.”

  “He don’t talk to you anymore, does he?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m sorry about that. I was plumb put out with you.”

  “I know. I’ve got a couple of sleeping bags you can use.”

  She looked at me, realizing I had forgiven her without even saying it. “I wouldn’t want you to have to delouse them.”

  We passed my grandmother’s place, but I kept walking. Jesse seemed to like the company. When we arrived, Daisy jumped down and ran to Carl and hugged the dusty old dog.

  “I thank you for what you done,” Jesse said. “You didn’t have to.”

  “I wish I could do more.”

  “Would you wait a minute?”

  Jesse ran into the house and returned with a round blue tin and an extension cord she snaked out the front door. She rummaged through the tin and came up with hair clippers. The trimmer clacked and she banged it against her hand and adjusted something with what was left of her thumbnail.

  “There. I can get most of it, but not the back. Would you do the honors?”

  “I’ve never cut hair.”

  “First time for everything.”

  “Don’t you want to put a thing on the end? You know, so you don’t look like you just got drafted?”

  “I need it as close as you can get it. Not taking chances. But don’t let them jump on you.”

  I took the clippers and gingerly cut a two-inch section from the back of her hair.

  “No, not like that,” she said, grabbing the clippers. “Like this.” She ran the shears through the front of her hair and took off a deep row all the way to the scalp. “Don’t be bashful. Cut and let it fall.”

  Daisy came out and pointed, laughing at her sister.

  “Don’t you laugh. You’re next.”

  “Why are you cuttin’ it, Jesse?” Daisy said.

  “So’s I can go to the Dollar Store and get a bandanna. You can’t wear a bandanna unless you have your hair short.”

  Jesse’s hair fell in big clumps and I sidestepped it. Her hair was clean and soft. When I finished the back, she took the clippers and did the front and sides herself, then saluted me. “Private First Class Jesse Woods reporting for duty.” She looked cute without hair, though it made her look even thinner. Jesse’s hair was down her neck and I felt bad that she couldn’t take a shower.

  She struggled to get Daisy to sit still but finally cut her hair as well. Then she took a can of gas and poured it on the clumps and set it ablaze. The stink was awful, but Jesse said she just wanted to know those things were dead.

  I wanted to help more, but she said they were off to the Laundromat.

  “Let my mom drive you.”

  “If she drives us, there’ll just be more questions. I got to do this myself. But if you could, get some kindling and firewood at the campsite. I’ll be obliged.”

  “You’re going to sleep there?”

  “I think Daisy will do better in a tent than out in the open.”

  I had the fire going by dark and watched the two trudge up the hill. They had bought a loaf of bread and some ham from the grocery store and eaten half of it while they did laundry. The other half was for breakfast. Jesse had rinsed her and Daisy’s hair out in the sink at the Laundromat. I found old covers in my grandmother’s basement, an
d they used them for beds. Jesse brought their clean sheets and two pillows, which weren’t much more than two lumps of cotton with covers on them.

  “My mom made a pound cake yesterday,” I said, holding out a paper bag with two pieces wrapped in wax paper. Daisy Grace squealed and ate hers quickly and licked her fingers.

  I tended to the fire while Jesse got Daisy settled. The air was cool and made me think of football and the turning leaves. The grass was showing black on top. Jesse sat on a rock by the fire and wiped at her neck.

  “I can get some marshmallows for tomorrow night,” I said.

  “Daisy will like that.” She ran a hand through the stubble of her hair and yawned. “Matt, why are you doing all this?”

  “I want to help.”

  “But why?”

  “I’m like you. When I make a promise, I keep it. You remember your promise, right?”

  She scowled. “You mean the one about not telling anyone about your brother?”

  “No, the other one.”

  She put her head down. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. “I didn’t know it was going to be this hard.”

  “You didn’t know what was?”

  “Everything.” She wiped at her face and sniffed hard.

  I tried to think of something to say but nothing came. Finally I smiled. “I can’t wait to see the look on Dickie’s face when he sees you.”

  She put her head in her hands and groaned. “Man, I bet I look awful.”

  “No,” I said, swallowing hard. I had been thinking of a way to say something nice, to show her how I felt. But I kept holding it in. Now I let it go, not worrying how it sounded. “You could never look awful. You’re beautiful, Jesse.”

  She stared at me a moment. “You need to get your eyes checked, PB.”

  I was glad I had finally said something, glad she knew what I felt, even if her response wasn’t exactly warm. “Get some sleep,” I said. “There are a couple potatoes in the fire for in the morning.” I handed her another covered container. “And some salt and cow butter in here.”

  I took a long shower that night and felt itchy, but I told myself it was in my head. As I did my homework, I thought I felt something crawling but ignored it. I fell asleep reading Great Expectations for English and woke up too late to check on Jesse and Daisy.

  In the morning, my father said there was a curious smoke smell in the air. I shrugged. “Maybe somebody’s burning their plant bed.”

  “In September?” he said. He stopped me as I reached the door and folded his newspaper in front of him. “Did you hear about last night?”

  I heard our bus rumble in the distance. “What?”

  “Blass won his eighteenth. Pirates clinched against the Mets.”

  My mouth dropped. I’d been so involved with Jesse and Daisy I had missed it.

  “Reds can clinch today against Houston if they win. Cincy and Pittsburgh for the National League crown.”

  “I can’t wait for the Pirates to beat them and show you who’s best.”

  My dad smiled. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  I ran down the driveway just in time to catch the bus. School dragged all day and I looked at my watch a million times, thinking of Jesse and what I had said. That afternoon I ran up the hill but they were gone. The fire had burned down to ashes and the potatoes weren’t there.

  I stayed at the house, excited for the weekend, and hurriedly ate dinner and told my parents I was heading for the hill. I grabbed my transistor radio and sneaked a bag of marshmallows.

  “What are you doing back there, Matt?” my grandmother said. “Digging a hole to China?”

  “He’s excited about his favorite team,” my mother said.

  When I had enough wood for the fire, I sat by the tent. Darkness came but no Jesse and Daisy. Then I saw a light coming up the hill. It turned out to be my father.

  “Better come home,” he said when he reached me, out of breath. “Storm’s headed this way.”

  As the words left his mouth, the wind kicked up a gale and blew through the trees. The moon went behind a cloud and thunder clapped.

  “You waiting on someone?”

  I fiddled with the radio. “Just trying to pull in the Pirates game.”

  I left the marshmallows in the tent and returned with him, wondering about my friends.

  The next morning I was up early. The first thing I noticed was the creek. It had risen with the torrent. My father read the morning paper with his coffee, my grandmother humming a Fanny Crosby hymn next to him.

  “It’s a gully washer,” she said to me as I stared out the window.

  My father joined me at the window and watched the water rolling through the bottomland.

  “When are we moving into our own house?” I said, trying to keep my voice down.

  “Your mother’s asking the same question. Blackwood has things tied up. It shouldn’t be much longer. That’s my hope.”

  “Do you think it’s because of the picture I took?” It was the first time either of us had brought up that day.

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “There are some things we don’t control. And Basil Blackwood is one of them. I’m sure the picture didn’t help, but you can’t blame yourself.”

  I realized then, observing my father’s peaceful acquiescence to the events of our lives, that I had kept my vow not to forgive him. I understood the pressure he was under at church and with my mother and why it was just easier to go along with Blackwood and not make waves. To keep the truth about Ben a secret. It all made sense because he always took things in stride, as if this were his spiritual gift. But it seemed to me that this wasn’t the way to live. I wanted him to act, to do something, to stand up and be strong. But the more inaction he exhibited, the more tension there was in my grandmother’s house and in the church. Things weren’t working out the way people had hoped. We didn’t have a big influx of visitors. The closest we had come to a baptism was a baby dedication. And my father’s sermons weren’t as forceful as Blackwood and some elders wanted.

  “Life is never easy,” my father said. “It may seem like it on the surface, but there’s struggle to it all. When Jesus told the disciples to go across the Sea of Galilee, they got in the boat and obeyed. And that was when one of the biggest storms blew up. So obeying God’s will can sometimes get you into trouble. But it’s better to follow him into a storm than to stay on the shore alone.”

  This was one of the things my father liked to do—sermonize in the middle of life. I wondered if he was reminding himself of the truth as much as he was teaching me. I wanted to ask about Ben, but that was a subject best left to my parents’ prayers. At the dinner table, my father would pray for “each and every one not at this table” and pause, a hint of regret in his voice. And then we would eat.

  The rain ended in the afternoon and the creek stretched into the corn. I rode my bike to Jesse’s and looked in the windows but the house was empty and so was the backyard. A truck passed and slowed. Macel Blackwood, Basil’s wife, usually spoke in grunts, but today she rolled down the passenger window and yelled, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your distance from that bunch, Plumley.”

  I waved and smiled.

  Later, after walking the muddy path to the top of the hill, I found Jesse and Daisy. They shivered like wet animals in the tent. Daisy ate marshmallows by the handful.

  “I’ve been looking all over,” I said. “Where have you been?”

  “Here and there,” Jesse said. “Just waiting for the lice to die.” She moved out of the tent and got me alone. “I’m scared, Matt. I think Blackwood wants me dead.”

  “You’re paranoid. Why would you think that?”

  “He’s been poking around the property with a guy who has something he looks through. I think he’s a surveyor. If they find out Mama’s gone, he’s liable to take it.”

  “He can’t do that. Did your mother have a will?”

  “I can’t find it or the deed. I’ve looked e
verywhere.”

  “Well, he’s not going to kill you. That’s silly.”

  “You don’t know him or his kin like I do.”

  Seeing her concern gave me an idea—I saw an opening here and pushed through. “Maybe it’s time to get help.”

  “You stop saying that. We tell nobody.”

  “You just said that Blackwood wants you dead.”

  “I haven’t found a will or the deed, but I did find my daddy’s gun. And there was a box of ammunition in the closet. If Blackwood tries anything, I’m ready.”

  “Jesse, you can’t threaten people with a gun.”

  “I ain’t threatenin’. I’m just saying I’m ready for whatever comes down the pike. But I’m still scared.”

  It began raining hard and Jesse retreated to the tent. I ran down the hill through the mud and slept in a warm bed, thinking of her all night.

  THURSDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1984

  The lights of Dogwood twinkled below and the air felt as crisp as apple cider. Above were stars I couldn’t see in Chicago. The Milky Way stretched out toward infinity here while in the city the light haze blocked my view. There’s something about looking into a night sky that makes you feel small.

  Mr. Lambert’s words turned circles in my mind as I made a fire. My concern for Dantrelle crept in and I smiled at how quick-witted and funny he was. I couldn’t imagine a world without that little kid in it. I also couldn’t imagine a world where Jesse Woods walked an aisle and said yes to Earl Turley. These concerns competed with each other as I counted the stars.

  As night deepened, the temperature fell and I thought about returning to the house. Jesse had ignored my notes in high school. She’d treated me as if I were the one with head lice. The week I got my driver’s license, I asked her to a movie. I asked her to prom two years in a row. There was always something in her refusal that sounded a little like regret. Call it intuition, call it denial—I sensed there was part of Jesse that wanted to say yes but held back. Though we never talked about it, I assumed it was because of what I did—or rather what I made her do. The promise I made her keep that kept us apart.

  I put my hands behind my head and stared into the night, the crackle of the fire and the woodsmoke lulling me. Images of Dantrelle flashed through my mind and I felt torn between staying and just leaving. I must have fallen into a sleep so deep I was dreaming before my eyelids closed.