“Is that it?” Earl asked.
“I think so. I just wanna take one last walk-through to be sure I’m not leavin’ anything we really need. If you’ll wait, we can drop you off out by the pasture.”
“Nah. I’m fixin’ to get goin’. Y’all two take your time. I’ll see ya when I see ya, Victoria. Be safe.” Turning to Julianne, Earl pulled her close in a tight hug. “I’ll see you when ya get home tonight.”
“Bye, Earl,” I said. “Thank you!”
“Anytime, darlin’.” Earl walked down the path toward his own fields.
Julianne and I took one last pass through the house, until I decided I had everything we needed. As we were leaving, I turned to lock the door. Julianne laughed and placed her hand upon my arm. “Lockin’ the door? What for?”
“I guess I hadn’t even thought about it. Now that ya mention it, there’s no reason to make things easy for Imogene when she comes.” I finished turning the key in the lock then tossed it far into the yard behind me.
Julianne laughed. “Wish I’d thought of that.”
Before getting in the truck, I turned and leaned against it to look one last time at my home of ten years. Placing my hands in my pockets, I realized I still had the packet of Will’s cigarettes from the night before.
“Want one?” I asked Julianne, lighting a cigarette for myself.
“Ya know I don’t smoke,” she said. “I didn’t realize you did either.”
“Nah, I don’t smoke.” I shook my head. “Not usually, anyway. They were Will’s. Found ’em in his dresser drawer and took ’em to remind me of him. It just seemed like the right thing to do—ya know: smoke one of his cigarettes as my way of sayin’ goodbye.”
We stood there for several long moments, staring at the house as the end of my cigarette burned down to a stub. Seeing that it was nearly at its end, I flicked it toward the house and watched it land on the front porch.
“Let’s go then,” I said, turning toward the passenger seat of the truck.
“Let’s kick this pig,” Julianne added, her favorite expression she’d adopted from one of the children.
Climbing into the truck and heading off toward town, we didn’t see the cigarette catch fire in the dry air; but we could see the smoke behind us as we neared town. At the time, it didn’t occur to us it might be my house burning in the distance. If it had, I wouldn’t have gone back anyway. I hadn’t planned to burn the house down, but I wasn’t the least bit sorry. Or, maybe, on some subconscious level, I’d hoped it would burn. I learned later the house was gone, burned all the way to the ground. Imogene could have the land, but she’d never have my home.
Years later, when times were better and I had more money, I had Sara’s body exhumed from what had been the back yard and moved to the El Reno Cemetery to rest beside Will’s grave. Surprisingly, the apple tree we’d buried her under still stood. What was more surprising was the house—now leveled to nothing more than pastureland—was covered in a flat field of black-eyed Susans. I smiled in remembrance, and sent a silent prayer of thanks up to Will. I had no doubt this was his doing—Will’s sign to me that we were good.
PART FOUR
1935-1939
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
MOVING BACK TO EL RENO WAS HARDER THAN I had imagined. I was grateful to Mother Elizabeth and Father Caleb for taking me in, but I refused to take more from them than absolutely necessary.
Finding a job was nearly impossible. Jobs were scarce, and nobody was hiring. Refusing to burden Mother Elizabeth and Father Caleb, I took in laundry from the single and widowed gentlemen in town; it was the only option available to me. The work was back-breaking and brought in very little, but every penny separated us a little further from starvation.
When I’d moved to town, I planned our stay to be short. But times were hard, and Father Caleb insisted it made more sense if we shared the same home and expenses. In that way, we both benefitted. With Father Caleb’s work and my odd jobs, the children were eating regularly once again. The portions were small, and we stretched them further than in previous years, but the children were thriving.
In July of 1934, Mother Elizabeth helped me deliver David Nicholas Harrison. Small for his age, David was born with a full head of black hair, the exact shade of Gene Blanchard’s. If anyone guessed his paternity, there could be no denying it. He was the image of a man I despised. And yet, despite his paternity, we all fell in love with David.
I’d agonized over his surname. It seemed wrong to give him Will’s name, but there was no other choice. My last name was Harrison and, with no father of record, the child took my last name. I resolved this in my mind by remembering how difficult his road would be. The fewer differences between David and his siblings, the better he would be in the long run. Deep down, I knew Will would’ve understood.
I was surprised very few townspeople raised an eyebrow at David’s birth. Did they not realize he wasn’t Will’s? I’m not sure how that was possible. Certainly there were some who hadn’t known Will; but, even living five miles outside of town, we still knew quite a lot of people in the community. I’d expected some sort of backlash. Maybe they didn’t care. Or, maybe they’d suspected the truth: there’s nothing a mother won’t do to feed her children.
After David’s birth, I searched for work until I was hired as a housekeeper by Isabel and Iris Delaney. The two Misses Delaney were twins, in their late sixties, and had never married. Rumor said when Iris Delaney’s beau proposed some years back, she’d refused because she couldn’t bear to part from her sister. The two ladies had lived with their father in a stately home on Macomb Street until their father’s death in 1930. Old Mr. Delaney was a county judge and had invested well in the stock market. He was lucky. He was among the few who’d pulled his money out before the crash in ‘29. When he died, he left his entire estate to his two daughters. Speculation was rampant about their net worth. Nobody knew how much money the two Misses Delaney shared, only that they always had enough, and their money made them impervious to the opinions of others. They did as they wished, and I envied them. They took me in as their housekeeper, and paid me four dollars a week. My job was straightforward: to keep their home clean, prepare their meals, and wash their laundry. In return, they were kind to me and allowed me to bring David along. Having no children of their own, they loved playing with mine and spoiled them rotten.
In February 1935, David was nearly seven months old, and I’d been housekeeping for the Delaney sisters for five months. I’d just returned home after a long day, and wanted nothing more than to take a nap before the children returned from school. I put David down to sleep and enjoyed the quiet emptiness of the home. Mother Elizabeth and Father Caleb had stepped out for the afternoon, so this alone time was a rarity. I aimed to enjoy every second of it.
David had barely fallen asleep when the front door opened. In walked Grace, Jack and Ethan, each looking more bedraggled than the next. Both boys sported bruised knuckles, busted lips, and the beginnings of black eyes. Even Grace looked battered. The sleeve of her dress was torn from the right shoulder, and her normally neat copper braids were mussed and tangled with bits of dirt and grass dangling from them.
“What in the world are y’all doin’ home?” I asked. “You’re about forty minutes early.”
Grace and Ethan held back tears while Jack, my little man and the protector of our family, stood tall and angry. Jack’s arms were crossed in front of him and he stood ready for battle.
“We got expelled,” he said.
“You what?” I asked. “What d’ya mean y’all got expelled? What did ya do?”
“We got into a fight,” Grace explained. Her big blue eyes filled with tears.
“All of ya?” I asked.
“Them boys was mean to Gracie!” Ethan said.
“What boys?”
“Them boys!” Ethan repeated. “They were callin’ Gracie bad names, and they made her cry; and then they started pushin’ on her!”
“Grace?”
I asked.
Grace stared at the floor, refusing to meet my eyes with her own. “They said some mean things. I’m sorry, Mama.”
I turned my attention to my oldest son, and lifted a questioning eyebrow. “Jack?”
“Just what they said.” He shrugged. “Gracie was cryin’ on the playground. Some bigger boys were pickin’ on her and sayin’ mean things. They’d pushed her down and … well, she’s my sister! They don’t get to push my sister down and get away with it! I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to get Ethan involved. I didn’t even know he was there ’til we all got hauled into Mr. Holly’s office.”
Anger rushed to my cheeks in hot waves. “Y’all can’t do this. Ya just can’t get into fights at school. Now sit down and tell me from the beginning what happened.”
Gracie shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
“What’d ya say?” I was shocked. Gracie never defied me.
“No, ma’am,” she repeated. “I don’t wanna tell ya.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t you talk back to me, young lady, or I’ll whip your backside with a switch. I asked ya to tell me what happened, and it wasn’t a request; it was an order. Now you sit your butt down here right now, and tell me what happened.”
Grace crossed her arms, her pose defiant. “No, ma’am.”
“Gracie, I’m warnin’ ya. Don’t you tell me no again, d’ya understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am. I understand. I’m sorry, Mama, but I ain’t gonna tell ya.”
“Jack?” I asked, turning to my oldest son.
“Sorry, Mama. Gracie’s right. It don’t matter.”
A hot wave of anger rushed over me. “It does to me! Y’all don’t get to get expelled from school and then not tell me what happened. It doesn’t work that way. Now Gracie and Jack, y’all two better figure this out right now before I blister both of your backsides.”
Neither answered. They were stubborn, those two. They stood there, holding their chins high, their postures defiant.
I inhaled a calming breath and turned to Ethan. “Sweetheart, will ya please tell me what happened?”
Ethan looked at me, his big blue eyes filling with tears. “I dunno, Mama. I just saw Gracie was cryin’, and Jack was fightin’ with these big boys; so I tried to pull ’em off Jack.”
“So ya don’t know what happened, but ya stepped in to help your brother and Grace?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
“Thank you, Ethan. Go on into the bedroom while I talk to Grace and Jack.”
Ethan left the room, and I turned back to my oldest children. “Sit down. Now.”
Grace and Jack sat side by side on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder, with their two red heads nearly touching. Both sets of bright blue eyes stared back. They were courageous, my children. I had to give them credit for that.
“Now, I’m not gonna keep asking y’all the same question over ’n over again. I wanna know what happened at school today, and I wanna know right now. Don’t make me tell y’all again, ’cause I will whip your butts raw if I have to ask one more time. What happened at school today?”
The children sat stoically, neither offered a single word.
Taking a deep breath, I massaged the bridge of my nose. The pain of another headache was already thumping behind my eyes. “Y’all two go on out to the back yard and bring me a switch off that big tree. Make it a good one ’cause I don’t wanna send y’all back out there. You’ll be sorry if I have to go get one myself.”
Without a word, both children stood and walked out to the back yard, returning only a few minutes later with a thin switch, void of leaves.
I tested the switch in my hand. They’d chosen well—it was a young branch off a sapling, giving it enough elasticity not to break easily. “Okay, you two. This is your last warnin’. This is the last time I’ll ask, and then I’m gonna use this switch. What caused the fight at school?”
Gracie stared down at her lap, her right hand picking at a hangnail on her left. But Jack looked right at me, not the least bit cowed, and not about to back down. I was at a loss for what more I could do other than use the switch on their backsides. With no other choice, I bent them each over the back of the sofa and swatted first Gracie, and then Jack, at least a dozen times on their rear ends.
“Are y’all two gonna tell me now?” I asked.
Gracie bit her lip and shook her head, but Jack stood tall and met my eyes. “No ma’am,” he said.
“Alright, then.” Pulling my arm back a second time, I swung the switch a half dozen more times until their bottoms and the backs of their legs were as beet-colored as their hair.
Gracie sobbed until I thought my heart would burst with pain, but still she refused to tell me. As for Jack, he took each lick like a boy much older than his years, refusing to back down and show weakness.
For whatever reason, these two wouldn’t budge. I was frustrated and needed answers.
“If y’all aren’t gonna tell me, then I’m goin’ down to the school to see Mr. Holly.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, but I’d much rather y’all told me.”
“Please don’t do that, Mama!” Grace exclaimed. “Don’t go talk to Mr. Holly.”
Finally! I turned to Grace. “I need ya to give me a good reason not to, Gracie. I’ve had about enough of your defiance for one day.”
Jack stepped between Grace and me, his body shielding his sister’s. “Ya really don’t wanna do that, Mama. Please don’t.”
Throwing my hands in the air in frustration, I strode purposefully toward the door and gathered my cloak. I would get answers; if not from the children, then from their principal.
“Jack, I’ve had just about enough! I’m gonna get to the bottom of this one way or another. If y’all two won’t tell me, then I have no other choice.”
I opened the door, and had just stepped out onto the porch, when Grace called out. “FINE! I’ll tell ya! But please don’t go, Mama!”
Turning around, I closed the door and faced my children. “This is your last chance. Y’all two better tell me right now, or I’ll find out another way. Then I’ll come home and whip your butts again for makin’ me go out and get the story from someone else.”
Grace took Jack’s hand, her eyes pleading. “It’s okay, Jack. We have to tell her. If we don’t, she’ll find out anyway. I’d rather we told her than someone else.”
“No, Gracie,” Jack whispered.
I walked back toward the children and sat down in the chair across from them.
“Jack, I want ya to tell me what happened, and don’t ya dare leave out a single detail.”
Jack shook his head, but Grace squeezed his hand and nodded encouragement. “It’s okay, Jack. Tell her.”
Jack sat there for a long moment, deciding what to say. Finally, after what seemed like hours, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Gracie was out on the playground when my class went out for recess. She was standin’ in the middle of four big boys. They were circlin’ ‘round her, callin’ her names—awful names. One of ’em had a stick and kept usin’ it to lift her skirt. She was cryin’ and battin’ their hands away. She kept tellin’ ’em to stop and leave her alone, but they wouldn’t! I went to help her, but they ignored me, too. When the biggest one pushed her down, I got mad and punched him in the face. After that, I’m not really sure what happened. It just became a big brawl with everybody hittin’ everybody else. They were even hittin’ Gracie, Mama, and she’s a girl!”
Anger raced through me so quickly my hands shook from the rush of adrenaline. “Did anyone see you? Before the fight broke out, that is. An adult?”
“Mr. Holly, I’m pretty sure. He was standin’ right there on the playground and didn’t do a thing to stop ’em. He didn’t do nothin’ until the fight broke out. Then we got pulled into his office and sent home expelled,” he said.
Grace was sobbing quietly next to Jack, but I was too angry to give her sympathy. The only thing I could think of was hurting those
who’d hurt my baby.
“What’d they say, Jack?”
Jack didn’t answer.
I lowered my voice until he nearly had to lean in to hear me. “I’ll ask ya one last time, Jack. I wanna know what they said.”
Jack swallowed so hard I could see his Adam’s apple bop up and down. When he spoke, his voice was lower than even mine had been, and I almost missed his words. “They called you a whore, and said Gracie was gonna grow up to be a whore just like you. They said David’s a bastard and ya don’t know who his daddy is. They said we were probably all bastards.”
“And the other boys? Are they expelled, too?”
Jack shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Jack had stopped talking, but I wouldn’t have known either way because my ears were buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. I shook with anger. Glancing at the clock, I realized school was near to being released for the day.
“Wait here. Don’tcha dare leave those spots on that couch, or I’ll whip ya both again!” Turning toward the door, I yanked it open and marched out toward the school.
Lincoln School was only a block from Mother Elizabeth’s home, and I remembered it well from years gone by. Walking with purpose, I could see nothing but the three-story red brick of the gothic-style school building directly in front of me. On another day, I might have admired the regal columns on each side of the steps leading to the front door. Next to the high school, which was of a similar style on a much grander scale, it was my favorite structure in town. But today, I had no patience to enjoy its beauty as I had on so many occasions before. Today I had one mission: to find that bastard, George Holly.
I remembered George from my childhood at this same school, and my anger churned. He’d been a bully in his youth, and it seemed time hadn’t changed anything. How dare he expel my children? He would not get away with this.
The Edge of Nowhere Page 20