“Tell us. What’s the problem?”
Taking a deep breath, I exhaled. “I need to ask a favor.”
“Anything,” Father Caleb replied.
“Absolutely anything,” Mother Elizabeth echoed.
“Thank you.” I swallowed hard. “But don’t say that yet. Let me tell y’all what I’m here to ask first.”
I paused, unable to find the right words to continue.
“Take your time,” Father Caleb encouraged.
Squaring my shoulders, I began. “We’re fixin’ to lose the farm. The bank already took the truck; and I expect they’ll be back any day to take the farm equipment before throwin’ us out completely.”
“Oh, no,” Mother Elizabeth whispered.
I nodded. “The children are hungry. When the twins were here, we were barely scrapin’ by. Now, we’re not even doin’ that. The children are hungry, and I’m gettin’ scared.”
“What can we do?” Father Caleb asked. “If we have it or can get it, it’s yours.”
“Thank you. I know this is a lot to ask, and ya must know I wouldn’t ask if I could come up with any other solution. I was wonderin’ if we could stay here with y’all for a while. Not long—just ’til I can get us on our feet. I thought I’d see if I couldn’t find a job here in town. I’ll do whatever I have to so as not to put ya out more than necessary.”
“Of course ya can stay here!” Father Caleb said.
“You can have your old room back, and the children can share Jacob’s old room. He’s been gone a long time, and I don’t expect him to come back any time soon,” Mother Elizabeth said.
“It wouldn’t be for very long, I hope. I know y’all are hurtin’ as bad as anyone. We don’t need much, and I’ll get a job as soon as I can. What the kids need more than anything is a roof over their heads, and a little extra in their bellies. We hardly have anything at all right now, so just a little bit of somethin’ will feel like a feast to them.”
“Of course!” Mother Elizabeth said. “We don’t have much, but what we do have we’ll make stretch.”
“Thank you.” I cleared my throat, my nerves overwhelming me. “But, before ya agree, I have one more thing to tell ya. It might make ya change your mind.”
“Nothin’ could make us change our minds, Victoria. We love you,” Mother Elizabeth said.
“This might.” I took a deep breath, hoping I’d find the right words. “I’m expectin’ a baby.”
Mother Elizabeth and Father Caleb sat in deafening silence. Several minutes passed, and we three just sat there at the table as they considered my words. Finally, Father Caleb spoke.
“I’m sure ya understand how shocked we are to hear this. I gather ya don’t plan on marryin’ the father?” he asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m not sure I would if I could.”
“But who, Victoria?” Mother Elizabeth asked. “And how could you?”
“I can’t say. Please don’t ask me. I won’t say.”
“But ya must!” Mother Elizabeth said. “Women don’t go around havin’ relations with men they don’t plan on marryin’! What were ya thinkin’?”
I couldn’t answer that question. My actions shamed me, but the only thing I regretted was the resulting pregnancy. So I sat there and said nothing.
Mother Elizabeth stood from the table and backed away. Turning her back to me, she said, “I’m ashamed of ya, Victoria. Your children are hungry, and you’re busy havin’ relations with some man you won’t identify and refuse to marry? How could you?”
“Hang on a minute, Liz,” Father Caleb said. “Sit down. Let’s hear her out.”
“I can’t sit down, Caleb! We brought her into this home and raised her as our daughter. We gave her everything we could—the same as we did Julianne and Jacob—and then she shames herself like this. She shames us like this. And the children!”
“Elizabeth!” Father Caleb raised his voice, as I’d never heard him do before. “You’ll sit down this instant and hear her out. I have a feelin’ this is more than what it appears. So sit down, close your mouth, and listen to Victoria. Now.”
Anger radiated off of Mother Elizabeth until I could almost touch it. Taking her seat at the table, she said one word: “Talk.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I said. “I’m expectin’ a baby, and I neither can—nor would—marry the father. My children are hungry, and we desperately need help.”
“There’s more to this you’re not tellin’ us, Victoria. I wanna hear the rest of it,” Father Caleb said.
“I can’t. Please don’t make me tell ya anything more.”
“D’ya love him?” Mother Elizabeth asked.
“No.”
“Were ya forced, Victoria?” Father Caleb asked gently.
“No. I wasn’t forced—not exactly, anyway.”
“But still, you were forced?”
“Not physically.”
“But you were forced. Not raped, it sounds like, but you were forced?
I paused before answering. “In a manner of speaking.”
“By whom?”
“I can’t say.”
“What was the benefit? Was he holdin’ somethin’ over your head? What did ya gain?”
I paused again, and then whispered, “Time. Time to figure out a way to come up with money for the farm. Food. Some small groceries for the children.”
Mother Elizabeth turned white, and I was afraid she might collapse in her seat.
“I see,” said Father Caleb.
Time stretched in the silence of the kitchen. Even Mother Elizabeth was without words, though her expression now held pity instead of anger. I could take the anger, but the pity cut right through me.
“This man … does he know?” Father Caleb asked.
“Yes.”
“And he has no intention of doin’ anything at all?”
“No.”
“I see.” He nodded and sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “What if I was to pay him a visit? Could he be encouraged to make this right?”
“No. And I won’t tell ya who it is. He’s vile. Even if he did wanna do the right thing, I’m not sure I could stomach livin’ with him. I don’t see as he’d be kind to my children at all, and I’m afraid their situation wouldn’t change. Might even be worse.”
“Did ya ask him to make it right?” he asked.
“Not exactly. I mean, I told him; but I still don’t know what I expected him to say.”
“What did he say?”
“I told him I could ruin him if he didn’t help me; that all I’d have to do was tell people what’d happened. He said nobody’d believe me; that they’d see me as a widow tryin’ to trap him into a better life for my kids. He reminded me that even Imogene had called my kids bastards at Will’s funeral.”
Mother Elizabeth gasped, but said not a single word.
“I see,” Father Caleb said.
Several minutes lapsed as we sat at the table pondering the situation in front of us. Standing up, I said, “Thanks for listenin’ to me. Think about it and let me know. Either way, I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
“Sit down, Victoria,” Father Caleb said.
I stood there looking down at him, dumbly.
“I said, ‘sit down, Victoria,’” he repeated.
Taking my seat again, I waited for him to speak.
“I’m sorry for what happened,” he began, then glanced at Mother Elizabeth for confirmation. At her nod, he continued. “We’re sorry for what happened. Obviously we’re not happy. I’m sure you’re not either. But what’s done is done. I have an idea who might be responsible, but we’ll respect your wishes on this. If it’s who I think it is, you’re right—the children’s situation wouldn’t be any better, and yours would be worse. So, here’s what we’re gonna do: go back to the farm and pack up what ya can in the back of Julianne’s truck. Leave the furniture, except maybe the beds. Get the children together and come here. You’ll sta
y with us for as long as ya need, and we’ll figure out how to handle your condition as it becomes more apparent. I don’t know how, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. You’re our daughter. We don’t just stop lovin’ ya because you’ve had to make some hard choices. How long d’ya think it’ll take ya to gather everything together?”
“Not long,” I replied. “Maybe a couple days at most? We don’t have much, so I could probably pack it all up tonight.”
“Okay. In the meantime, then, I’ll go back with ya to the farm and bring the kids back here so ya can get things organized. Elizabeth’ll get them enrolled over at Lincoln School tomorrow. Maybe even while I’m gone so they can start tomorrow or the next day. Can ya do that, Liz?”
Mother Elizabeth nodded. Still she hadn’t said anything, so I could only imagine what she was thinking. At least she no longer seemed angry.
“Have ya had anything to eat today?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m fine,” I lied.
“Good. Then let’s get goin’. The sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner those children will feel better and have food in their bellies.”
Standing from the table, I reached out to take Father Caleb’s hand into one of my own. “Thank you. I owe you … again.”
“Nah, ya don’t,” he said. “We’re family. This is what family does.”
I gave him a grateful smile and nodded. Turning to Mother Elizabeth, I wasn’t sure what to say or what to do.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Stepping forward and pulling me into her arms, Mother Elizabeth embraced me tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
WHEN I RETURNED to the farm that afternoon, all of the farm equipment was gone. There wasn’t a single piece anywhere in sight. I could only surmise the bank had come for it while I was gone. Damn them! They insisted on the prompt repayment of our loans, then took away any chance of receiving it when they repossessed the equipment we needed to earn the money!
Father Caleb stopped in with me to pick up a few things for the children, then he planned to go to Julianne’s and take them back to town. They’d never step inside this house again.
I dropped Julianne’s truck back at her house and let the children know they’d be going with Father Caleb back to town. Then, with the kids in tow, Father Caleb dropped me off back at my home so I could begin packing.
Methodically, I went through each room in our house, collecting only those things we couldn’t leave behind—clothing, Gracie’s favorite blanket, Will’s hat that Jack had confiscated as his own, and Ethan’s favorite toy. In the back of my closet, I found my memories: Mama’s Bible with the petals from those first flowers Will had given me, and the rose rock I’d picked up on the way to Julianne’s the day of the tornado back in ‘24. And then there was Mama’s wool cloak. I placed it around my shoulders. I could still smell her scent—vanilla. Even after all these years. It couldn’t possibly still be there, but I knew I smelled her. Whether it was the cloak or the memory of her spirit, I knew Mama was with me in those moments as I cleared out the closet and the remainder of the house.
I slept only a few hours that night. Once deciding to leave, I was determined to get out as quickly as I could. I figured Julianne, and maybe Earl, would come for me the next day to see what help was needed. My goal was to be ready for them when they arrived.
Opening Will’s dresser, I looked over the clothing I’d not had the heart to remove after his death. I’d take them with us. Though Will was gone, his clothing was still useful in a variety of ways. Piece by piece, I removed his few shirts and overalls from the drawers and packed them in burlap bags. In the top drawer, I found a half-full package of Lucky Strikes. I smiled at the memory of Will smoking those cigarettes at the end of a long day, as we sat together on the porch swing in the warmth of a summer evening. I remembered watching the lightning bugs float around us, and telling Will that the tip of his lit cigarette resembled one large lightning bug in the dark. Smiling, I slipped the cigarettes into my skirt pocket. I’d add them to my collection of memories.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
I MUST’VE DOZED OFF SOMETIME LATE IN THE night, because I awoke the next morning in the rocking chair by my bedroom window.
Determined to finish packing before Julianne and Earl arrived, I continued my efforts from the previous night. I was almost done when I heard a truck approaching the house. Certain it was Julianne, I continued working. I knew she’d lend a hand with whatever still remained of the packing. The truck door slammed and moments later, the screen door creaked before smacking against its frame as my guest let herself into the house.
“I’m in the back bedroom!” I called out.
Seconds later, I was stopped in my tracks by a voice I’d hoped never to hear again.
“Packin’ up, are ya?” Imogene Harrison stood in the doorway.
Squaring my shoulders, I stared directly at her. “What’re ya doin’ here?”
“Atticus saw Earl this mornin’ down at the Co-op. He said you were movin’ out; that ya couldn’t pay the money back to the bank Will borrowed.”
“It’s true,” I said. “They took the truck awhile back, then the farm equipment yesterday.”
“Why didn’t ya come to us?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Would you’ve given me the money?”
“No.” Imogene grinned mockingly. “But it would’ve been interestin’ to see ya beg.”
“I figured. Which is why I didn’t ask.” Turning my back to her, I stuffed a folded blanket into a burlap bag. “So what’re ya doin’ here now? Ya come to gloat?”
“Nah. I just came to make sure ya take only what’s yours, and leave anything that belongs with the house or the property.”
Turning back to Imogene, I set the bag down and put my hands on my hips. “Not that it matters, but why would ya even care? It’s gone. The bank is fixin’ to take it.”
“Nah,” she said. “The bank ain’t gonna take it.”
“What’re ya talkin’ about?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Gene Blanchard stopped over awhile back. He said the bank was fixin’ to foreclose on the land and offered to let us buy it.”
My head swam. “He didn’t.”
“Oh yeah. He did.” Imogene smiled cruelly. “He said ya were expectin’ with some drifter’s bastard, and ya couldn’t make the payments. He wanted to give us a chance to buy it before it went to auction, or whatever it is they do with those properties they confiscate.”
“What did ya do?”
She shrugged. “We said we’d buy it. Gene said you’d be out by mid-May, so we’ve been bidin’ our time. Waitin’.”
“Waiting?” Hot blood rushed to my neck and cheeks. “While your grandchildren starved? While the bank confiscated our truck and the farm equipment?”
“Oh, we have the farm equipment,” she said. “That was part of the bargain. We gave ’em the check yesterday mornin’. They picked up the equipment last night and just moved it onto our land so you couldn’t try to sell it off.”
“I see. Then what? What’re you plannin’ to do with the land? It’s not producin’. Nothin’ is.”
“Don’t really matter. It will in time. We just need us some good rain. This drought can’t last forever. But we wanted to see you off of it. I told ya those bastards of yours would never inherit this land, and I meant it.”
Straightening my shoulders, I took a few steps toward her. “I done told ya a long time ago not to call my children bastards. Don’t push me on this, Imogene.”
“Just calm down. I didn’t come here to fight with ya. I got what I wanted—what I’ve always wanted. At any rate, we paid off the bank. So the title is ours and I just wanted to be sure ya don’t take anything with ya that ya ought not.”
“What’m I gonna take, Imogene? I can only fit clothing and a few small items. Were ya gonna just throw us out in mid-May?”
She shook her head. “I was pretty sure we wouldn’t have to, but I s’pose we would’
ve if it’d come to that. I knew you’d figure somethin’ out, though. And you did, so it’s all good.”
“You really need to leave before I do somethin’ I’ll regret,” I said, taking another step toward her.
“I’m leavin’,” she replied, turning to go. “Have a good life, Victoria.”
I was shaking with rage. Thank God I’d not had a gun nearby. I might’ve shot her.
Imogene had barely driven away when another truck approached the house. This time it must be Julianne, I thought. Peeking out the front window, I spotted Earl driving with Julianne riding shotgun in the passenger seat. I stepped outside and onto the front porch.
“Mornin’, Victoria.” Earl opened the door on his side and stepped out. “That Imogene just leavin’?”
“Of course,” I said, barely concealing my irritation.
“What’d she want?” asked Julianne.
“She came to gloat. Atticus carried back the information to Imogene about us movin’. She came out here to make sure we didn’t take anything that doesn’t belong to us.”
“Why would she care?” Earl asked.
“Because they’ve paid off the loan to the bank, and had the title transferred to their names.”
“They didn’t!” Julianne gasped.
“They did. She was waitin’ until mid-May to evict me, but decided to come out here after she heard from Atticus that we were leavin’.”
“Unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry, Victoria. That just ain’t right.” Earl glanced at his watch. “Listen, I need to get back out to the fields or we’re gonna lose our farm, too. What d’ya need carried out to the truck? I’ll help ya get it packed, and then Julianne will go on into town with ya. She can bring the truck back when you’re done.”
“Thanks, Earl. I owe ya.”
“Nah, ya don’t.” He smiled. “We’re family. This is what family does.”
“Ya sound like Father Caleb. He said the same thing yesterday.”
“I’ll bet he did,” he said.
There wasn’t much to load, and Earl had the truck packed in no time. We couldn’t take the furniture, so we just took the mattresses from the beds and Mama’s rocking chair. Then we tossed in the burlap bags filled with clothing and other things I couldn’t stand to leave behind.
The Edge of Nowhere Page 19