need the encouragement.”
I just wanted to go home. I also wanted to tell Blair Riddum off. She glanced at me as we stopped at the light on the corner of Minton and Main. “Lee’s a good man,” she said, as if I’d spoken against him. “Probably five, six years older’n you. He was livin’ in Albertsville till last year, when his mama had that fall. Came back here to take care a her. Blair Riddum snapped him right up for the mill, strong as he is. And in just that short a time, he’s become a real leader down there; that’s what your uncle says.”
I watched the post office glide by through her window. Two elderly men were sitting on the bench out front under the shade of an oak. “I don’t like Uncle Frank being caught between the men and his boss.”
She nodded. “I still think things’ll work out somehow. We’re prayin’ mighty hard, you know. Have been ever since the troubles began. Besides, you know how it is here. People hash out their problems and get on with their business.”
I rested my cheek against a fist and closed my eyes, hoping she was right.
Looking back on it, I’d say the die between Lee Harding and me was cast that warm June afternoon. He was wearing worn jeans and a blue short-sleeved work shirt as his oversized hand held open his screen door. Seeing me behind my aunt, he remolded his expression from distraction to pleasure. “Come in,” he said as a phone began to ring.
Giving no recognition to the auspicious timing of our arrival, Aunt Eva waved him to answer it and leaned over to peck his mother on the cheek. “Now don’t get up,” she clucked, inquiring with forced cheerfulness about Wilma Harding’s hip and insisting that the woman soon would be running around the block. Miss Wilma was tall and stocky, iron gray hair pulled to the nape of her neck. Her eyes were dark, like Lee’s. A black metal cane leaned against her chair. She had a no-nonsense air about her, a radiating strength that made her seem larger than life. When I was younger, I’d found her intimidating.
Lee’s sister, Connie, waddled in, one hand self-consciously resting on her huge abdomen. She, too, was big-built, with long black hair and brown eyes. Her skin was tanned, her cheeks rouged with heat. I had not seen her in a few years and had known her only nominally in high school. “Hi, Connie,” I said, taking her hand. “It’s so good to see you again. I brought you a little something for the baby.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, her eyes moistening. “You shouldn’t have.”
I glanced meaningfully at her stomach with a grin. “Looks like it’s about time you were gathering things.”
“Guess you’re right.” Her gaze fell to the floor. I stood before her awkwardly, wondering if I’d offended her.
“Come, Connie,” her mother prompted. “Sit down and open your gift.”
With a shy glance at me, Connie huffed to the couch and fell into it gracelessly. We all watched as she opened the present, being careful to save the paper. I could hear Lee’s low voice from around the corner.
“Thank you so much,” she said softly, holding up the sleeper for her mother to see. “It’s so cute—” Her words cut off abruptly, and she gazed at the sleeper, rubbing it with a thumb. We all waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, Aunt Eva, Miss Wilma, and I exchanged glances and stilted smiles.
Fortunately, Aunt Eva found something to say. As she and Miss Wilma chatted, I listened half-heartedly. Looking around the simply furnished Harding house, I felt a twinge of guilt at my self-preoccupation in regard to the problems at the sawmill. The morning’s disappointment merely threatened my quiet summer, but their livelihood depended on Lee’s paycheck. Both Miss Wilma and Connie could barely move. What’s more, they both were alone in their own way, one widowed, one abandoned. Given the circumstances, I thought, the bundle of unborn life sending a flush to Connie’s pudgy cheeks could be more
I just wanted to go home. I also wanted to tell Blair Riddum off. She glanced at me as we stopped at the light on the corner of Minton and Main. “Lee’s a good man,” she said, as if I’d spoken against him. “Probably five, six years older’n you. He was livin’ in Albertsville till last year, when his mama had that fall. Came back here to take care a her. Blair Riddum snapped him right up for the mill, strong as he is. And in just that short a time, he’s become a real leader down there; that’s what your uncle says.”
I watched the post office glide by through her window. Two elderly men were sitting on the bench out front under the shade of an oak. “I don’t like Uncle Frank being caught between the men and his boss.”
She nodded. “I still think things’ll work out somehow. We’re prayin’ mighty hard, you know. Have been ever since the troubles began. Besides, you know how it is here. People hash out their problems and get on with their business.”
I rested my cheek against a fist and closed my eyes, hoping she was right.
Looking back on it, I’d say the die between Lee Harding and me was cast that warm June afternoon. He was wearing worn jeans and a blue short-sleeved work shirt as his oversized hand held open his screen door. Seeing me behind my aunt, he remolded his expression from distraction to pleasure. “Come in,” he said as a phone began to ring.
Giving no recognition to the auspicious timing of our arrival, Aunt Eva waved him to answer it and leaned over to peck his mother on the cheek. “Now don’t get up,” she clucked, inquiring with forced cheerfulness about Wilma Harding’s hip and insisting that the woman soon would be running around the block. Miss Wilma was tall and stocky, iron gray hair pulled to the nape of her neck. Her eyes were dark, like Lee’s. A black metal cane leaned against her chair. She had a no-nonsense air about her, a radiating strength that made her seem larger than life. When I was younger, I’d found her intimidating.
Lee’s sister, Connie, waddled in, one hand self-consciously resting on her huge abdomen. She, too, was big-built, with long black hair and brown eyes. Her skin was tanned, her cheeks rouged with heat. I had not seen her in a few years and had known her only nominally in high school. “Hi, Connie,” I said, taking her hand. “It’s so good to see you again. I brought you a little something for the baby.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, her eyes moistening. “You shouldn’t have.”
I glanced meaningfully at her stomach with a grin. “Looks like it’s about time you were gathering things.”
“Guess you’re right.” Her gaze fell to the floor. I stood before her awkwardly, wondering if I’d offended her.
“Come, Connie,” her mother prompted. “Sit down and open your gift.”
With a shy glance at me, Connie huffed to the couch and fell into it gracelessly. We all watched as she opened the present, being careful to save the paper. I could hear Lee’s low voice from around the corner.
“Thank you so much,” she said softly, holding up the sleeper for her mother to see. “It’s so cute—” Her words cut off abruptly, and she gazed at the sleeper, rubbing it with a thumb. We all waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, Aunt Eva, Miss Wilma, and I exchanged glances and stilted smiles.
Fortunately, Aunt Eva found something to say. As she and Miss Wilma chatted, I listened half-heartedly. Looking around the simply furnished Harding house, I felt a twinge of guilt at my self-preoccupation in regard to the problems at the sawmill. The morning’s disappointment merely threatened my quiet summer, but their livelihood depended on Lee’s paycheck. Both Miss Wilma and Connie could barely move. What’s more, they both were alone in their own way, one widowed, one abandoned. Given the circumstances, I thought, the bundle of unborn life sending a flush to Connie’s pudgy cheeks could be more
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