Chapter 9

Thomas hoped for a miracle, and he prayed harder than he had in years. How was he going to tell her?

“Goodnight,” Thomas called to Gracie, hearing the board creek in the floor outside his door.

Gracie leaned into her grandfather’s room. “Did you like him?”

Thomas looked up. For years, even with pangs of arthritis, he’d stooped beside his bed on his knees. He now sat on its edge, head bowed. “I did.”

She rubbed her hand over her arm. “We have a lot in common.”

“I could tell,” he said kindly. “You know, I just worry about you. I don’t know anything about this boy. He’s a traveler from what it sounds like.”

“It’s not like that exactly. He’s never had the chance to have a real home,” Gracie rebutted.

“I’m just saying to be careful, really careful. You’re precious to me and whether his intent is pure or,” he paused, trying to think of an appropriate word, “or otherwise, we know nothing about him. He could be here today and gone tomorrow, and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

Gracie nodded, “Sorry to interrupt you …”

“Just making plans for the ‘big reunion.’” He winked before dropping his head. He’d said those words to her so many times before, when she’d stepped in his room to say goodnight … but never had they been as real as now.

* * *

Kage had shared more with Gracie in that visit than he’d ever shared with anyone, and he hadn’t left feeling sorry for himself. Kage remembered his rules for survival and wondered about love and if it could trump them. He mumbled “Gracie Howard” under his breath just to hear the sound of her name. Had he found a friend—someone he could trust?

Kage wondered if Gracie would like him if she really knew him. He thought about telling her about the places he’d been and the things he’d seen that young eyes shouldn’t know, but he didn’t.

He remembered asking Lady, “What does it mean to have a tender heart? Is that a disease?”

She responded, “Oh, a tender heart means you’ll be a great daddy someday and a good husband when you grow up. God loves tender hearts.”

Unlike many of the lawless drifters he’d met, he battled with his conscience. He felt bad about food he’d stolen from backyard gardens during the night—Lady’s voice in his head as he snuck away with his pockets stuffed and arms full. More than once, living on his own and embracing the dull anger within, he had wondered if there was anything tender left about him.

When Kage got back to Gene and Willy’s place, he was surprised to see Gene awake. He had tea brewing.

“Where you been?” Gene asked.

“Just out,” Kage replied.

“You ain’t been causing no mischief, have ya? I don’t want to go findin’ out that you been causin’ trouble.”

“No sir, just been to see Thomas and Gracie Howard. Thanks for letting me use the truck.”

“They’re nice people. How you ‘come acquainted with them?” He laid down the newspaper he was reading.

“I ran into Gracie a couple times, and we talked. She have any other family than her grandpa?”

He looked Kage over, pondering something. Again, Kage was reminded of the differences between Gene and Willy and wondered which he preferred. Willy put it all out there, so you knew everything about him. Gene was different. One minute there seemed to be nothing going on with him, and the next he was like this.

“What you want with her?” he asked, ignoring Kage’s question.

“I like something about her. I don’t know. She’s pretty and I know … well, you know … it really doesn’t bother me.” Kage thought for a second before asking, “Was she born that way?”

Again, Gene ignored his question and just stared at him before speaking. “You passin’ through, ain’t ‘cha?”

“Yes, sir. I suppose.”

“Then leave the Howard girl alone. She don’t need some young travelin’ boy poppin’ in and out of her life,” Gene said, his voice sterner than Gracie’s grandfather. “Don’t care if you like her. You ain’t no good for her. Gracie deserves a stable man, one who can offer her something.” Gene took his glasses off without breaking eye contact.

“Sir, I mean no disrespect, but I don’t much appreciate you suggesting that I’m not good enough for her, or anyone for that matter.” Kage stiffened.

Gene continued to eye Kage closely. “You are a hard worker and that’s enough for me, but you ain’t got nothin’ to offer a woman. You ain’t got but those clothes you a wearin’.

Though Gene’s point was further made by the fact that Kage couldn’t even claim the clothes on his own back, he resented Gene’s remark. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Gene continued as if Kage hadn’t spoken. “You travel light, boy, because you ain’t stickin’ around. You ain’t plannin’ to stay in Ridgewood. Until a few years ago, everybody was looking to get out of Ridgewood. Now we got crazies movin’ in here thinkin’ theys can get rich in this town. Let me tell you something. There is only one way to get rich off this land and that’s to work it. And then, you still ain’t gonna be any kind of rich. That’s all it is, somethin’ made out of nothin’. Nothin’ a’tall. You oughta leave here and go ‘bout your business somewheres else.” Gene picked up his newspaper and turned away from Kage.

“Sir, if you think I came here as one of those crazies looking for some stupid treasure, you’re wrong. I have family I’m trying to find. I might be just passin’ through, but it don’t mean I’d never come back. I just got a few things I have to take care of.” Kage hoped Gene heard though the newspaper that separated them.

“Then go do the things you gotta do. Just don’t you go hurtin’ Miss Gracie,” Gene said through the newspaper.

“Can you just tell me one thing? What happened to Gracie’s arm? I’d just like to know.”

“Did you ask her?” He put the paper down only half way so that he saw Kage over its corner.

“She’s not comfortable talking about it. Gets upset easy …”

“You think maybe that is her business to tell?”

“Yes, sir. I’d say you’re right.”

“Okay then.” The paper rose, blocking them again.

Kage grabbed his jacket and climbed the ladder into the loft.

“I heard you talkin’ to Gene downstairs,” Barney said from under his covers.

“Yeah, so?” He didn’t care much for Barney.

“I know what happened to that girl—the girl you’s askin’ ‘bout.” Barney sat up.

Kage narrowed his eyes. “How’s it that you know?”

“I asked.”

“Who’d you ask?” And without even a half second pause, Kage added, “and why?” He peered at Barney.

“I noticed it, that’s all. I asked Willy, and he told me. He said she got burnt—her whole family got burnt up in a fire. All ‘em dead—her mama, her papa, and her sister. She’s the only one that made it outta that house alive. That’s what happened.” Barney looked pleased with himself.

Kage turned away and kicked his cot as far as he could to the other side of the room. Barney’s voice running through his head, “burnt up …” Kage resisted hitting him square in the eyes and knocking him from the loft with one punch. Barney’s incessant mouth, showing no respect, degrading women, and using colorful language, wore on him like grain in his shoe.

Glaring at the cracks in the walls, Kage observed the bits of moonlight they cast across the room. Gene’s words reverberated in his mind, and he wondered if Gene was right on all accounts. Was he just the traveling sort? Would he always be a vagrant? Did he have anything to really offer someone?

Kage closed his eyes and could still see the family portrait over the mantel at Gracie’s house that Thomas had pointed out. He imagined the house Gracie’s grandfather had described. Images played through his mind of the family he craved and had imagined so many times in the orphanage. He wondered which would be more painful, never to have had a family or to have had something so special that was taken away.

* * *

Gene folded the newspaper and began to unroll a dollar bill on the table. It was carefully rolled, mimicking the look of a cigarette. He’d dropped off some late season vegetables to Mrs. Laurel a few days earlier. Few people visited her because she thought her late husband was still alive. He’d just call out “bye” to Mr. Laurel, and she’d smile so pleasantly, blinking her eyes in appreciation. She’d insisted on paying him, though he tried to refuse. He’d done well to give away a couple of the rolled dollar bills she handed him at the stops he’d made that afternoon, spreading Mrs. Laurel’s generosity—or more accurately not taking advantage of an overpayment from an old lady who was losing her mind. He recalled Gracie’s surprise when he left her the rolled dollar bill. It had made his day to see her smile.

Gene Carter was the first to admit he didn’t know much about love or anything else near the subject for that matter. His wife left him years ago. He was Kage’s age when he fell in love with Olivia. She was tall, slender, and full of spunk. She could skip a rock farther across stream the than most men, yet in his arms she was as yielding as a baby rabbit. She was beautiful. Too “purdy” for him, everyone had said—and he knew it.

He remembered well the day that Olivia had left. It was late into the night before he’d accepted something was wrong. That morning he’d gotten up before the sun and set out for the corn field. When he stopped in for lunch, she wasn’t there, but she’d left ham and turnip greens for him on the table. He assumed she went into town with Willy’s wife, Vera, as they did once a week. When supper came, they weren’t home. His concern wasn’t for them but instead for the time lost from the field. He made a couple of sandwiches and pointed out the ladies’ evening chores for Willy to do before sundown. Gene headed back to the field. When dark came and he saw Willy walking toward the light beams of his combine in the field, he knew something was wrong.

Once inside the barn, he saw the ring. He’d missed it earlier. He hadn’t been looking for it. His mind was focused on the corn in the field. Olivia’s wedding ring lay beside the trash can, where she must have tossed it. When he stepped closer, he saw Vera’s lying on top of the trash, resting in a broken egg shell. Willy had cried like a baby. He slobbered and mumbled all sorts of stuff. Gene cried inside. He hoped Oliva would come back. He had a phone installed and waited for it to ring. She’d always wanted one. He knew she didn’t know that he had it or its number, but somehow in his mind it increased the possibilities of hearing from her again. She was in his prayers every night—still some nights even now, but she never returned.

* * *

“Help!” Gracie wailed, her lips pressed against the cool, cast iron door. Blood splattered the door in a pattern that resembled the dusty paw prints of the rats scurrying over her feet.

“Let me out,” she pleaded. The rats multiplied and she could feel the prickles of their toes dancing across her belly and tickling her thighs.

She whimpered. “Please, please … please, open the door.”

“I hear you …”

Gracie buried her ear against the door’s frame, as if it had spoken. “What? Who’s there?” She knocked and banged. “Talk to me!”

But there was nothing.

Gracie sniffed in feathers and swatted them off her face as fiercely as she’d slapped at the rats. She’d ripped her down pillow at the seams, its stuffing stuck to her skin and coasted in the air.

“Kage …” she whispered. It had been his voice in her dream. He’d heard her cry for help. She prayed again for the nightmares to stop.

* * *

Thomas’ mind raced, though his body stalled. Although his heart wanted to get up and go to Gracie, his body begged him not to move. Painful memories passed through his head—the picture ever-burned in his mind of the fire reaching for the heavens, the stench that remained the next day as he sifted through what was left of his son’s home, and the last night he had sat by his wife’s side. His thoughts tumbled and flowed, crashing into one another.

After the fire, Marilee had let him organize the ice cream flavors with no opposition. Where she used to awaken before the sun, she instead conjured excuses to stay home. On occasion Gracie and Thomas had managed to coax her out of the house but soon she would complain and insist that Thomas take her home. As soon as they got home, she’d crawl back under the covers. In that bed, Thomas had held her in his arms as she slipped away while he sang quietly, “Marilee, Marilee, Marilee, Marilee—life is but a dream.” She softly mumbled along with him until her lips stilled.

Now it was just Thomas and Gracie. Years had carved Marilee’s words into his mind: Are you watching the time? Don’t forget the grocery list. You’ve got to plan ahead, Thomas. More than once, Thomas had thought to himself that Marilee would have been proud. He had been thinking ahead, but not thinking ahead far enough to plan for what Gracie would do after he was gone.