disgusted noise in his throat. “Shank fired forty-four men this afternoon.”
Like a ripple, like a stone dropped in water, Jottie, Harriet, Mae, and Minerva shifted in their chairs. In the darkness, Willa lifted her head.
Felix whistled softly. “Hard times.”
“Yeah, and he don’t make them any easier. Forty-four guys, all off the line. Management stays put.” Richie’s low voice was rising.
“Look at that Packard out there,” Harriet said nervously. “I’ve never seen that car before.”
“You’re all right, then,” Felix said.
“That’s not the point. Your father wouldn’t have done it,” Richie replied.
“Mm.”
“Shank don’t give a”—Richie glanced at the children—“a hoot about what’s right. Sol”—someone drew in a breath, and Willa’s eyes circled, trying to discern who—“he does what he can, but Shank don’t care. Sol says he’ll get on a loom himself if he has to.”
Felix said nothing.
“He’ll do it, too,” Richie said with satisfaction. “He would. Sol’s a right guy—” There was an audible intake of air as Harriet kicked him. “Well,” he said, after a second. “It’s hard times for everybody, just about. It sure is.”
“You girls, look at all those lightning bugs out there in the yard,” said Jottie calmly. Willa watched Minerva and Mae collapse slightly against their chairs. “I wouldn’t let such a chance go by, if I were you.”
“I’ll get you-all a jar,” said Felix, rising. He slid inside the house.
“Hey-you!” called a voice from the sidewalk. “You girls sitting out?”
“We’re just sitting here waiting for you, Belle!” called Jottie. “Come on up.”
Through the flurry of greeting, of coffee-cup getting, Willa waited. Then through the talk of rain, the mayor, Mrs. Roosevelt, cows…
Felix did not return.
Willa leaned forward to put her hand on Jottie’s arm. “Where did Father go?” she whispered.
“Oh, I guess he needed some cigarettes,” said Jottie carelessly.
Willa’s eyes narrowed and she sat back in her chair.
Well, I’m damned, thought Jottie in alarm. She knows I’m lying.
—
The rain came, finally, in the early hours of the morning. Jottie awoke in a brilliance of white as lightning made a ghost of her room. Shecounted, and the thunder rocked her on two. She yawned, rose, and went down the hall to the children’s room. They always slept through it, and she always checked. Yes, fast asleep, both of them, Bird splayed flat in her bed as if she’d been dropped from the ceiling, Willa curled up tight as a snail. Jottie moved to the window and slid the sash down quietly against the rain. She touched Willa’s smooth cheek as she passed back toward her own room and was reassured. Still a baby, really. The old mattress sank beneath her as she lay down. She thought of the porch chairs, rockers thrashing drunkenly to and fro in the wind, fallen ash growing sodden on the floor. A wave of deep, cool air blew in her window, and she shivered ungratefully. Pulling her sheet close around her, she wondered whether Miss Beck had been awakened by the storm. No matter. The girl would get used to it.
6
May 28, 1938
Mrs. Judson Chambers
Deputy Director, Federal Writers’ Project
Works Progress Administration
The Smallridge Building
1013 Quarrier Street
Charleston, West Virginia
Dear Mrs. Chambers,
I am in receipt of your letter of May 14, regarding the
History of Macedonia
to be sponsored by that city’s town council. Your objections to the project have been noted, but as stated in the General Memorandum on Supplementary Instructions #15, the Central Office is exceedingly interested in these local and other-than-State Guide publications and wishes to encourage them as far as possible. In order to relieve the personnel deficiencies you mentioned and thereby allow your office to undertake this important local publication, I have assigned a new field worker to the West Virginia project. As she will be
Like a ripple, like a stone dropped in water, Jottie, Harriet, Mae, and Minerva shifted in their chairs. In the darkness, Willa lifted her head.
Felix whistled softly. “Hard times.”
“Yeah, and he don’t make them any easier. Forty-four guys, all off the line. Management stays put.” Richie’s low voice was rising.
“Look at that Packard out there,” Harriet said nervously. “I’ve never seen that car before.”
“You’re all right, then,” Felix said.
“That’s not the point. Your father wouldn’t have done it,” Richie replied.
“Mm.”
“Shank don’t give a”—Richie glanced at the children—“a hoot about what’s right. Sol”—someone drew in a breath, and Willa’s eyes circled, trying to discern who—“he does what he can, but Shank don’t care. Sol says he’ll get on a loom himself if he has to.”
Felix said nothing.
“He’ll do it, too,” Richie said with satisfaction. “He would. Sol’s a right guy—” There was an audible intake of air as Harriet kicked him. “Well,” he said, after a second. “It’s hard times for everybody, just about. It sure is.”
“You girls, look at all those lightning bugs out there in the yard,” said Jottie calmly. Willa watched Minerva and Mae collapse slightly against their chairs. “I wouldn’t let such a chance go by, if I were you.”
“I’ll get you-all a jar,” said Felix, rising. He slid inside the house.
“Hey-you!” called a voice from the sidewalk. “You girls sitting out?”
“We’re just sitting here waiting for you, Belle!” called Jottie. “Come on up.”
Through the flurry of greeting, of coffee-cup getting, Willa waited. Then through the talk of rain, the mayor, Mrs. Roosevelt, cows…
Felix did not return.
Willa leaned forward to put her hand on Jottie’s arm. “Where did Father go?” she whispered.
“Oh, I guess he needed some cigarettes,” said Jottie carelessly.
Willa’s eyes narrowed and she sat back in her chair.
Well, I’m damned, thought Jottie in alarm. She knows I’m lying.
—
The rain came, finally, in the early hours of the morning. Jottie awoke in a brilliance of white as lightning made a ghost of her room. Shecounted, and the thunder rocked her on two. She yawned, rose, and went down the hall to the children’s room. They always slept through it, and she always checked. Yes, fast asleep, both of them, Bird splayed flat in her bed as if she’d been dropped from the ceiling, Willa curled up tight as a snail. Jottie moved to the window and slid the sash down quietly against the rain. She touched Willa’s smooth cheek as she passed back toward her own room and was reassured. Still a baby, really. The old mattress sank beneath her as she lay down. She thought of the porch chairs, rockers thrashing drunkenly to and fro in the wind, fallen ash growing sodden on the floor. A wave of deep, cool air blew in her window, and she shivered ungratefully. Pulling her sheet close around her, she wondered whether Miss Beck had been awakened by the storm. No matter. The girl would get used to it.
6
May 28, 1938
Mrs. Judson Chambers
Deputy Director, Federal Writers’ Project
Works Progress Administration
The Smallridge Building
1013 Quarrier Street
Charleston, West Virginia
Dear Mrs. Chambers,
I am in receipt of your letter of May 14, regarding the
History of Macedonia
to be sponsored by that city’s town council. Your objections to the project have been noted, but as stated in the General Memorandum on Supplementary Instructions #15, the Central Office is exceedingly interested in these local and other-than-State Guide publications and wishes to encourage them as far as possible. In order to relieve the personnel deficiencies you mentioned and thereby allow your office to undertake this important local publication, I have assigned a new field worker to the West Virginia project. As she will be
Similar Books
