Cross of Ivy

by Roxi Bahar Hewertson

  The years had been kind to Joshua. He was lean and strong, his mind alert and curious. He still rode his horses, hunted, fished, and he always walked the mile and a half to his office, even in the rain. He saved the car for drives up the River or to New Orleans with Mary and as often as not, with Abby and Emmy in tow.

  He was a part of their family now. The bond among them was unspoken but absolute, a camaraderie of partners in a long since passed macabre event, a shared confidence. Unpleasant thoughts were absorbed and shelved, like leftover liver in the back of the freezer. New, more appetizing morsels were loaded in front. Out of sight, that fragment of life was frozen in time.

  Saturday night supper was tradition. Meaghan made that very clear on more than one occasion. In her crisp, soprano voice, her back straight and head forward, like Irish women do, she informed his esquireship that he must attend if he wished to be considered family, and furthermore, he must contribute a dish of his own making as they all did. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  Dessert was Joshua’s choice. When he ran out of store-bought concoctions, he’d thrown himself on Mary’s mercy. It began with moral support. The first pineapple upside down cake was lopsided, and the bottom was soggy enough to drink. She finally took pity on him, coaching but not doing, until he got the hang of it. For a man who had mastered only the necessities of basic meals to feed his children, homemade was no small feat.

  The meal’s final repast became a matter of pride. Joshua’s mouth-watering creations were made with a lawyer’s brand of concentration and served with aplomb. Tonight would be no exception.

  “At last, the king of desserts has arrived!” Mary hugged him at the door. He draped one long arm around her and moved them forward.

  “Well, Miss Mary, this’ll be a frog puddle unless we get it right to the freezer.”

  Mary told him about their dinner guest. “He seems to be a nice young man, really helped Papa today. It’s funny though. Abby seems a bit put out, but Emmy’s the one who invited him.”

  “Sounds like girl games to me. I remember when my girls would set one another up. It took me a long time to figure out what they were doing. Their mother always knew, and she’d just watch to make sure it didn’t get out of hand. Actually, it was one of those tricks that landed Linda her husband. She and Karen still laugh about it.”

  Unlike most lawyers, Joshua rarely took the world too seriously. He had a way of looking at the broader view. His wife’s death had shaken his foundation and his priorities. Each day was now a new challenge, a blessing. He found himself humbled by the shifting sands of his life.

  Abby peeked around the corner to the living room, saw Joshua, and flashed him a big smile mixed with relief. “Oh, good, it’s you Joshua. What’s our surprise tonight?”

  “Now, my dear, if I told you that, it would take all the fun out of it, like opening presents before Christmas. You can’t stand to have the surprise spoiled, sweet tooth or not, and you know it!” Joshua said with a devilish grin.

  Mo and Michael arrived. The evening news was blaring out of the television so Patrick could hear it better. Chet Huntley was talking about the trip President Kennedy was about to make to Europe. Joshua, a lifelong Democrat, said he’d voted for Earl K. Long twice, with misgivings to be sure, but he’d voted his party, and he always would. Michael was a banker’s Republican, and Patrick thought they were all a bunch of crooks, although he did take a liking to the Kennedys, being Irish Catholic and all.

  “Kennedy will sell this country down the river with all his social programs. Let everybody else do what you and I did, Joshua, work hard and do for your own. Government handouts make beggars out of men.”

  “You know better than that, Michael. There has to be some standard that every decent human being is entitled to. We can’t be letting big business make a profit on the backs of labor without paying their dues. The country is booming right now.”

  “Those damn news people never look like they’re telling the truth, eh?” Patrick said to nobody in particular. He still wasn’t keen on television. He was sure it was some kind of a government plot to keep the people from hearing the truth. “Too much flash in the pan, not enough of the man”, he would say before wandering off to listen to the radio.

  Abby walked into the kitchen, more resolved than ever to never talk politics, especially with men. There was no way to win, so what was the point?

  Joshua was about to start in again when he heard the knock at the front door. “I’ll get it.”

  “Evenin’, sir. Wills Taylor. Expected for supper.” He put out his hand.

  “I reckon you are. Well, c’mon in boy. I’m Joshua Larkin, and this here’s Mister Michael Pierce, Mister McCory’s son-in-law. What’ll you have, boy?”

  “Nice to meet ch’all,” Wills nodded to everyone he could see. “I could use something cold to drink, if you don’t mind. But I can wait.”

  “No trouble t’all. Look how easy this is. Emmy, Abby, your friend has arrived.”

  Emmy was there in a flash. “Why, don’t you look nice, Wills? Hey, Abby,” she turned and tossed her voice down the hall, “Wills is here for supper.”

  Mirrors were hateful things; every pimple, every imperfection was there to be reflected back to the owner. How could it be that there were more there now than this morning? I’ll never forgive Emmy for this. Abby brushed her dress down her sides one last time and emerged from the bathroom, prepared to be miserable. She scooted by the living room. “Oh, hi,” she tossed over her right shoulder and flew into the kitchen.

  A smile flashed across Wills’ face as he shrugged his shoulders at Emmy.

  “Emmy, Wills here needs a cold glass of ice tea,” Joshua said.

  “Why, sure. Be just a minute.” Emmy raced off to the kitchen.

  “Abby, Wills needs a glass of ice tea. I promised Gramma I’d set the table, so how ‘bout you take it on out there?” She nudged her shoulder into Abby’s.

  “I’ll get you for this, Emily Jane Pierce. You just wait and see!” A scowl that could knock a buzzard off a manure wagon flashed back at her grinning cousin.

  The older women all looked at each other and then at Emmy. There was no question now. “Girl games, indeed!” said Mary.

  “Why, Emmy, you little devil,” Mo whispered. “Now you let it alone. You’ve done enough now. Leave it be, ya hear?” Emmy’s mother, who was every bit a Southerner now, patted her on the behind. It took all the control she could muster to keep from breaking out in full laughter.

  “Okay. But they are such a lovely couple, don’t you think?” Emmy giggled into a towel.

  Mary didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. She bit her lip and dried off her peas, put them in the boiling water and otherwise busied herself with supper preparations.

  Abby focused exclusively on the glass of tea, ice cubes dancing precariously near the rim. She didn’t want to look up and didn’t see Wills as he approached her, reaching out to relieve her of the glass. She had a head-on collision with the boy.

  “Oh no! Oh, my gosh! Oh dear! I’ll get a towel. I’m sorry,” Abby blurted out as she handed him the half empty glass and ran back to the kitchen.

  “No problem, I won’t shrink.” A surprised, but amused Wills responded as he followed her.

  “I can’t believe this. I spilled the tea all over the place, on him, on me, on the floor. Oh boy, Emmy, you’re in for it now!” she said through clenched teeth as she swiped the towel right out of her cousin’s hands.

  “We have more.” The giggling Emmy couldn’t help herself. It was just too funny.

  As Abby turned to bring the towel back out, she bumped into Wills again, this time in the doorway. “Here, let me help,” he said. “I wasn’t all that thirsty anyway.”

  Mary looked up as she heard him speak. She hadn’t really noticed him earlier, just a yard hand. Sweat formed on her forehead, and she stood very still, unable to take her eyes off him. His voice, his manner, his character. How did she miss it earlier? A shorte
r and younger version with a drawl, and intense, deep brown eyes in place of blazing blue. Mary steadied herself on the sink. Meaghan looked at her, at Mo, at Wills.

  Abby and Wills left to clean up the mess.

  “What is it?” Meaghan asked Mary quietly, concern on her face.

  “What? Oh, nothing, Mum, just a strange feeling. It’s the boy. He’s...oh it’s silly. Nothing really.” Mary struggled to regain her composure.

  Supper was uneventful except for the rest of the things Abby spilled. She dropped the salt, twice. She tried to pass the rice and half of it fell in the salad.

  She was mortified, but Wills kept watching her with a bemused expression on his face even as the men carried on about house repairs.

  Mary watched, too. It could have been her nearly twenty years ago in a navy infirmary, dropping everything including her thermometer. But it was Abby at the dinner table. What did it mean? Who was this boy? What did he want with her Abby?

  “So, young man, what does your daddy do?” asked Michael, the man who never, ever assumed anything about anybody.

  “Daddy’s a shrimper. Got two boats. Used to live near the river, but mother wanted to be closer to church and schools and such. She said twenty years on the River was enough. Anyhow, my brothers help daddy now. I want to try farmin’ more full time, work the soil and build things,” Wills said.

  “Well, ya don’t say? I been working on riverboats since I moved down here, I ‘ave,” Patrick said. “Not too many of us ol’ blokes ‘round no more. My back’s been actin’ up, and I can’t do like I used to. A youngster’s mind in an old man’s body. Phooey.”

  “Go on, Wills,” encouraged Emmy.

  “Well, I’ve been workin’ after school for a farmer who wants somebody to help him in return for a share in the farm. He’s gettin’ on. You’d never tell by the work he gets done, but he needs the help. And I think he’d like to find the right man to carry on after him. He’s got no sons to carry on the farm. It’d be my dream come true, really. I’m willin’ to work hard and build it up nice.”

  “Where’s the farm, and what’s he growin’?” Michael wanted to know.

  “Over near Plaquemine. He’s got about three hundred acres in cane and fifteen head of cattle and another two hundred acres or so in soybeans. In a good year, he does all right, but it’s hard work. He owns a lot more, but hasn’t done anything with it in years but lease it out.” Wills’ eyes were vibrant, flashing out enthusiasm and energy.

  “So, after you graduate?” Abby seemed surprised to hear her own voice.

  Wills put down his fork, looked right at her and said, “Yes, ma’am, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Would ya like to take a ride out to see the farm sometime? I mean you and Emily.”

  “Not me, thanks,” Emmy said. “I’m a city girl. Me and cows don’t mix.”

  “I...I don’t know. Mama?” Abby was taken off guard. No boy had ever asked her to go anywhere, let alone for a ride someplace new. She looked at Mary.

  “I’m afraid not,” Mary said without blinking.

  Abby felt unexpectedly disappointed. Well, Mama knew what was right. Mama made all the decisions, and that was it.

  “Well, now, Mary, I can’t see any harm in a Sunday ride, can you?” Joshua said as he patted Mary’s hand. She pulled away.

  “It’d be good for Abby to get out and see a working farm. Why, she might learn a thing or two, no harm in that, now is there?” Joshua said.

  “Perhaps not, but...”

  “Then it’s settled. When are you goin’ to take our Abby out to the farm?” Joshua was plainly pleased with himself. Mary’s mouth curved to her chin, but she said nothing.

  “How’s next Sunday?” Wills smiled broadly.

  “Sounds fine to me. Abby, how’s that sound to you?” Joshua asked.

  “I guess so,” Abby said, confused by Joshua’s unusual interference. These were uncharted waters, and Abby didn’t know how to swim.

  Emmy started clearing the dishes. She looked briefly at her mother and winked. Joshua rose and started toward the kitchen.

  “Time for dessert. Abby, could you bring out the plates?” He beamed down at her.

  “Oh sure, Joshua. I saved room this time.” She couldn’t get up fast enough. Her mother’s face was still stiff, and the whole conversation had unnerved her. A boy had asked her out, and she was actually going. Well, it was nothing, he was nobody; it didn’t matter, really.

  The masterpiece of the week was cherries jubilee. Joshua turned off the dining room light and, with great fanfare, lit the whiskey. Blue flames engulfed the platter with a whoosh, and the whole gathering let out a unanimous, “Ahhh.” Appreciation noted, Joshua said, “Dig in!”

  “How ‘bout our evenin’ stroll, my dear?” Joshua reached for Mary’s hand. She nearly refused it, then thought better. “All right,” she said flatly.

  Even on the hottest summer nights, they were accustomed to walking to City Park or to the University Lake or down Kleinert Street to admire the estate-like homes on either side of the boulevard. The grand, old oaks lined the center divide, and low palms brushed up against the windows of the mini-mansions. They even walked in the rain if it wasn’t too heavy.

  Joshua and Mary stood at the front door. This night, the air was sweet. The humidity dissipated after the front blew in from the north, and the clouds against the setting sun were breathtaking—bright, wispy pinks and oranges fading to purple at the horizon. A good night for a stroll by the lake.

  “I best be gettin’ on, too. Fine supper. Thanks for havin’ me,” Wills said to everyone present. “I sure do appreciate your hospitality.”

  He got up to leave and turned to Abby. “Miss Abby, would you like to take that drive out to the farm next Sunday after church?”

  She plunged in. “Sure, okay, I guess so. When?”

  “How ‘bout two o’clock? I’ll pick you up in my truck. It’s not the prettiest thing, but it’ll get us there and back, no problem.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. None of this was lost on Abby’s mother as she and Joshua began their walk.

  “I think our little Abigail is growing up,” Joshua whispered to Mary as soon as they reached the porch steps.

  “I can’t believe you did that! You waltzed right in. Abby’s my daughter, and you had no right. You never know what’ll happen, and after what she’s been through in her young life, with no father and all.”

  “The girl’s eighteen, Mary. It’s time she had a beau. I’m sorry if I interfered, but you’ve got to let her get on with her life. You can’t protect her forever.”

  “I know how old she is, Joshua. She’s still just a girl, and I’m still her mother. Oh, I just don’t know what to think.”

  “Trust your instincts, Mary. The boy seems decent enough, and it’s only for a few hours, so what could happen? They all have to start livin’ sooner or later. Mine did, and I didn’t want to let go either.” He squeezed her hand and held on as they walked toward the drooping sunset.

  “I s’pose you’re right. It’s just so hard, that’s all. I’ve kept her so close to me for so long. I can’t explain exactly, but it just scares me.”

  “Sure it does, but she’s a good girl. She’ll be all right.” Joshua put his arm around Mary. She relaxed to his touch.

  “I s’pose.” Abby’s mother looked back at the house as they walked on. She glimpsed a young man descending the steps of her home. In the shadows, she saw his form, his movement. The way he walked, the way his arms swung side to side. It could have been Frank. Mary gasped and licked her dry lips. When she looked again, he was gone.

  CHAPTER 13

  The ride out to Plaquemine seemed to take forever. Still, it was almost anticlimactic after spending hours – no, days – agonizing over how to present herself. After church, Abby tried to eat lunch, but couldn’t get more than a bite of Gramma Meaghan’s fresh corn bread and chicken salad down.

  She tried to think up a way to cancel gracefully and without lying. It was hopele
ss. It didn’t help that Mama was watching every move she made, like she was a caged parakeet about to fly. It didn’t help that Emmy just happened to be babysitting at three. It didn’t help that Wills had been there the day before to help Papa Cory and stayed again for supper. It didn’t help that every pimple she ever had revisited her face that morning.

  In her frightened state, she barely heard Wills as he related various landmarks and scenery along the way. She was polite, of course, acknowledging him with little noises that she squeaked out from time to time.

  “I won’t bite, you know,” he finally said as they were rounding the last curve before the turnoff for Goula Road near Bayou Goula. Mr. Donaldson’s farm was only a few miles away.

  “What?” Abby was startled by the shift in conversation. He was looking at her, right at her. The truck, a beat-up old Ford that would never start until at least the third try, swerved a little to the right. Abby grabbed the door handle, and Wills righted the truck.

  “Sorry, it’s just that I get the feeling you are a million miles away and wish you hadn’t come.”

  “No, I’m fine. Really.” She lied. “Well, it’s just that I’ve never been out, I mean, I’ve never actually gone somewhere with, I mean, I don’t...oh, forget it.” You sound like an idiot, stop it. “Are we almost there?”

  Wills’ passenger was nibbling furiously at her nails, not actually ripping them, more like cleaning and chewing on them. He slowed to make the turn. As soon as he did, the truck stopped on the grass that bordered the dirt road. He turned to look at her again.

  “Abby, I asked you to come out with me because, well, because I wanted to show you what I love the most, and I wanted to spend some time getting to know you better. But if you want to go home, just say so, and I’ll turn around right now.” He waited and watched, toying with the torn plastic on the seat.

  A hard rock formed in her throat. She stopped nibbling her nails and looked over at him. What a nice face. A girl could get used to that face. She summoned all her resolve. “No. Let’s go to the farm. I agreed to go, so we should go.”