Good Hope Road

Cheyenne tugged at my sleeve. I didn’t realize it until she pulled pretty hard. I looked away from the creek, where Toby was still jumpin’ in the shallows and Anna was following him around like a thirteen-year-old mother hen, reminding him he was only seven and couldn’t swim.

I shook a finger at Christi. “You watch your tone, young lady. A nine-year-old girl ought not have such a smart mouth. Your little sister’s just worried about her daddy. That’s understandable.” I gathered Cheyenne in my arms and hugged her close, rocking her under my chin. “Your daddy’s fine, Sissy. He’s just been busy in town doin’ all he can to help folks, that’s all. That’s why he hasn’t been home.”

“Oh, he will.” I noticed that Anna and Toby had stopped playing and come to the shore, so they could hear the answer to the question, too.

I thought for a minute before I said anything. I didn’t want to tell them that their daddy was helping to dig through the rubble, and, yes, it was dangerous. “He was home for a little while that first night, and then he was gone again early in the morning.” I asked him not to go. I’m ashamed of it, but I did. I kissed the top of Cheyenne’s damp hair. “He kissed you just like that.”

Cheyenne wiggled loose and craned her neck to look at me, her lips twisted to one side. “I didn’t feel anything.”

Anna piped up, her tone sweeter than her younger sister’s. “You were asleep, silly. Daddy left early this morning before you got up.”

Cheyenne puffed out another sigh and leaned against me, burrowing under my chin. She looked down the creek at Lacy, who was writing on a piece of shale with a wet finger and watching the letters slowly fade. By herself, like she usually was.

“Of course Lacy’s daddy’s comin’ back,” Anna said, with the certainty of a thirteen-year-old. “Uncle Cass just has to get things worked out. That’s all.”

“How come Uncle Cass don’t ever come around?” Toby piped up, his brown eyes so innocent as he asked such a complicated question.

Because he went against his mama’s wishes and married that bar waitress. Because she don’t want him to come around here, that’s why. She don’t want him to be close to his family, and now look what’s happened. Poor Lacy’s so upset about being left with strangers, she won’t hardly talk. If only Cass had listened all them years ago when he wanted to run off with that girl . . .

I gazed at Lacy, her face reflecting the sun’s glow on the water, her dark hair swirling on the afternoon breeze, and guilt heaped on me. If Cass hadn’t done what he did, we wouldn’t have Lacy.

The sound of a truck pulling into the driveway rattled the afternoon quiet. The four kids hopped to their feet and scampered up the hill.

“Come on, Lacy,” I said, standing up. “Let’s go up and see Uncle Weldon.” I stretched a hand out to her, even though I knew she wouldn’t take it.

She stood up and wrapped her arms around herself, all the comfort she wanted. She followed me up the hill like a shadow, stopping when we got close to the knot of kids clamoring around Weldon like hungry pups.

Lacy stared at Weldon, her brows knotting in thought. I wondered if she was thinking about how much Weldon looked like her daddy. Cass was younger, but they both looked like their father. Same straw brown hair, same hazel-green eyes. Sometimes I wondered if Lacy looked at Weldon and thought he was her daddy. Sometimes she would almost go to him.

She turned away, as usual. Stepping back to the fork in the walkway, she took the path to the house instead of the one to the driveway.

He was patting the kids on their heads, watching Lacy go. “She’s still not any better?” It was a question that didn’t really beg an answer. He knew the answer just by looking at her.

“A little, maybe,” I lied. “She did talk today, to old June Jaans of all people, if you can believe that. He was showing her cat’s cradle.”

Weldon rubbed the unshaven stubble on his chin. “That’s a little something, anyway. We’ll get her to a doctor next week, when things are back to normal. It’s been a traumatic forty-eight hours.”

“Better now.” He rolled his head back and forth, stretching his neck. “There’s been a National Guard unit come in to help with the search and rescue at the lake. They’ve taken charge out there. The guard transports have carried all the serious injury cases to hospitals. Just bumps, bruises, sprained ankles, that kind of thing, are left at the armory. And some old folks who can’t go home without someone to take care of them. And, of course, there are still people in the tents who don’t have homes to go to.”

“Still a lot of people camped out there in the tents?” I asked. “I should probably go down there and help with handing out suppers.”

Weldon frowned, looking at his feet, trying to come up with the words to say something he knew I wouldn’t like. I could always tell when he was working up the guts to do that. Mamas know.

“Mama, it has to be done. There’s rain brewing over there to the west. We need to finish going through things out there, salvage what we can before it gets rained on.”

“No!” My voice echoed through the yard. The kids backed away, staring at me like they seen a two-headed chicken. “I won’t go there! I just won’t.” My mind hunted for an excuse, a way to escape the idea of seeing my house. I couldn’t bear it now. I didn’t know when I would be able to. “I promised I would go to the armory to help with the suppers.” Sorry, Lord, I know that’s a lie, but my heart can’t bear to see that house. “I was hoping you’d drive me up there, or if you don’t need your truck for a while, I can drive myself. You can stay here and rest.”

“Don’t argue with your mama, Weldon,” I pleaded. “Sometimes hard work is the only way to keep a body and soul going on. Sometimes your only comfort is in realizing other folks got it worse.”

He turned away from me and gathered the kids around him. “I want all of you to run and get the travel trailer cleaned out. The Andersons are going to come stay until . . . well, for a little while, anyway. They need a quiet place to stay.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Weldon, did they . . .” Did they find their baby? I didn’t want to say it in front of the kids. I didn’t want them to know the baby girl was still missing.

I climbed into the pickup. At the bottom of the patio steps, Lacy still stood watching me. I knew she wanted me to take her along, but I shook my head at her and put the truck into reverse.

I tried to put out of my mind the sparkle she showed when June Jaans did his parlor tricks. I wanted to ignore the picture of his hands joined to Lacy’s with that red string, but the image needled me. It brought back all them feelings from the past, when it was Ivy he charmed with his tricks.

You’re not gonna think about this, Eudora. Not now, I told myself; then I said a silent prayer that when I got to the armory, June would be gone.

By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I had myself convinced that’s how things would be. They weren’t serving supper yet down the hill, so I parked the truck by the armory building and went inside.

The building had emptied out some since I left that morning. Just a few folks resting on cots around the outer walls. Folks like June Jaans, sitting propped up on some pillows, diggin’ through papers in a cardboard box. I stopped in the doorway and glanced heavenward.

Is this a test, Lord? Is this a punishment? Why can’t he be gone? Why do I have to be reminded, now of all times? Why?

I gave myself a mental slap. It don’t profit to feel sorry for yourself, Eudora. Just go on down the hill and find something to do down there. I turned to leave.

A rustle of papers caught my ear, and I shuffled around to see pictures taped to the wall, all sorts of pictures. I realized that was what Jenilee had been up to that morning. She was putting those pictures up where people could find them.

But I already knew what gave her that idea. It come from a kind heart and a gentle spirit, one that could forgive the very people who had whispered behind their hands about her all her life. One that could want them folks to have back these lost bits of their lives.

Shame fell over me like a shadow. I ain’t as good as she is. I ain’t. “It’s something to see, ain’t it?” June’s voice made me jump like a guilty soul. I turned around, my anger taken away by the wall of pictures, by the act of grace it represented. But when I looked at June, fear come into me. Fear of talking to him without that shield.

June swiveled his head to look at the pictures. “People been comin’ all day, just one or two at a time, lookin’ at the pictures, takin’ some that belong to them. Caleb Baker found out what Jenilee was doing, and he started going around town telling folks, and asking them to gather up any more pictures and personal things they found that didn’t belong to them. Pretty soon, folks started bringing in pictures and things they’d picked up. Dr. Albright’s been telling folks to pile them next to the door there.” He motioned to a pile of boxes and bags by the door.

June shrugged. “Could be he figures putting them up ought to wait until Jenilee comes back, being as she started it.”

“Drew come to get Jenilee this noon. He was gonna take her to the hospital. Turns out her little brother and her father got caught in the tornado in their truck. Her daddy’s in a pretty bad way, but the boy’s all right. Just got a broke leg and some bumps, sounds like.”

“Well, thank God for that.” On the heels of that thought followed the not-so-holy idea that it would be better if Jenilee’s daddy never came home.

June shuffled the contents of the box. “She couldn’t wait to get to the hospital to see her little brother. Left in a hurry. Don’t know when she’ll be back, so I thought I’d start sorting through these things people brought in, pull the wet ones apart to dry, maybe get some more hung up.”

I realized I was standing so close to him, I could feel his breath on my arm. I jerked back. “Well, there ain’t any way you can do that,” I yelped like a stung dog.

“I guess I’ll have to help ya,” I heard myself say. “You can’t even get up out of bed.” What am I doing? Oh, heavens, why I am I getting myself tangled up with that old drunk? What if one of the ladies comes in . . . ?

I stepped back, waving a finger at the floor by his bed, my insides buckling. “You . . . you put them pictures there when you get them pulled apart. We’ll sort ’em into groups, if we can find ones that go together. If we know who the pictures go to, we’ll set them aside with the person’s name on them.”

June’s face was flushed. “That’ll be good, Eudora. It’ll be good.” He held up a handful of pictures, and his blue eyes met mine. “It’s a start.”

I got tape from the shelf and tore pieces with a vengeance, sticking pictures on the wall. Behind me, I heard June humming under his breath, the deep, warm baritone of his voice bringing back the past.

I finished hanging the batch of pictures and stood with my hands braced against the wall, trying to fight the tide of memories swelling inside me.

I heard the shuffle of shoes near the doorway, and looked up to see Dr. Albright there. I was glad to see anyone, even him.

I pretended not to notice that he gaped at me. Suppose he wasn’t used to getting ordered around like that. Then he turned around and walked over to Mr. Jaans.

He set them pictures on the table between us. “Any particular system you have going here?” He kept his gaze fixed on the pictures, and so did I.

“No, not that I know of. I don’t think Jenilee had a real plan. I think she just set out to do a good thing the best way she knew.”

He nodded. “You heard she found her family, I guess. The roads are open again, so she and her brother left for the hospital.”

I nodded, pressing a picture of the kindergarten stick-horse rodeo onto three loops of tape. “Heard that.” What he said made me wonder again about how I caught him watching her that morning. “Reckon now that the roads are clear, you’ll be headed back home to St. Louis, bein’ as you were just here by accident, anyway. Reckon you’re anxious to get back to your own family.”

He paused a minute, a picture suspended in his hands, inches from the wall. He jerked his head sideways a fraction, shaking off some emotion before he answered. “No, not yet. I still have something to do here.”