Deliver Us from Evie Page 9

  “Private owner,” Cord said.

  Somehow Dad got through dinner without saying much more to Cord. Then we heard a car pull into the drive.

  “Here’s Doug now,” said Mom.

  “About time,” Dad said.

  Cord was stretching his neck to see out in the driveway. “It’s not Doug,” he said.

  Evie pushed back her chair, her face brightening.

  “It’s not your girlfriend, either,” Cord said.

  “Cord,” said my father, “I’ve had about enough.”

  “Enough of what?” Cord answered.

  Dad didn’t get to say enough of what.

  Evie said, “It’s Sheriff Starr. What’s he want?”

  26

  DAD SENT CORD BACK to the Atlee fields, saying Sheriff Starr was there on family business.

  Everybody in Duffton knew him. He mostly took care of domestic disputes on the farms, and traffic violations on the roads and highways.

  He was a large, redheaded fellow with freckles and tight curly red hair. I went to County with Spots Starr, his son, who got his nickname from the same kind of freckles. Spots was a big deal at CHS, a senior, a sports hero.

  The Sheriff stood there blowing on the lenses of his dark glasses, wiping them with a Kleenex.

  When he finished saying he’d come at Mr. Duff’s request, explaining about the sign fixed to the bayonet, telling everybody what it’d said, Evie cussed.

  “I don’t believe there was a sign,” she said. “I believe he’s making that up.”

  “There was a sign,” said Dad. “It’s down to the barn. Mr. Duff put it in our mailbox early this morning.”

  “Now, I don’t know who put that one up there,” said the sheriff, “but—”

  “I do know,” said Dad. “Cord put it there. You can go out that door and look in the back window of his pickup and see the same kind of sign!”

  “Well, there was another one stuck to Duff’s Porsche this morning,” Sheriff Starr said, “the one she drives when she’s here. A nasty one.”

  “Isn’t there some kind of law against that type of thing?”

  “Douglas, I’d have to arrest half the kids in the county if there was. I’m not here about the sign.”

  Evie was gripping her hands, cracking her knuckles, scowling.

  I got up to clear the table.

  Mom looked defeated, sitting there with her hands in her lap, staring down at the table.

  “Say your say,” Dad said. “This isn’t the best of times for us to stop what we’re doing.”

  “I’m sorry, Evie. I’m supposed to warn you to stay away from Patsy Duff.”

  “Warn her to stay away from Evie!” Dad barked.

  “Well, Duffy’s doing that.” That was what old man Duff’s cronies called him.

  “Far as I know,” said Evie, “there’s no law against two females seeing each other.”

  “I never heard there was, either,” said the sheriff. “Look, now, I’m just doing my duty. Mr. Duff made a complaint and I’m following through on it. That’s all.”

  “What am I supposed to do about that complaint?” said Evie.

  “Stop seeing that girl!” said Dad.

  Evie shook her head. “No way. If she wants to see me, I’ll see her. It’s a free country!”

  Dad slapped his hand down on the table. “You did your job, Sheriff. Now we’re getting back to work! … Evie?”

  Evie got up. She said to the sheriff, “You finished with me?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I had my say, Evie. What you do about it is your own business, I guess.”

  “I’m not going to do anything about it,” said Evie, “besides break Cord Whittle’s neck!”

  She and Dad went out the door, leaving me at the sink and Mom just sitting there while the sheriff stood.

  “I don’t know what to say,” said Mom.

  “Look, Cynnie,” said the sheriff, “I wouldn’t even have thought twice about any signs if Duffy hadn’t called me over to his place. Cord puts up a sign, then someone copies the idea and it spreads. What’s got into Cord pulling a prank like that?”

  “It was more than a prank. It was malicious.”

  “I agree…. I don’t know if there’s truth to it or not, but even if there is—” He shrugged again.

  “Even if there is, what?” Mom said.

  “Nothing.”

  “Patsy Duff is a minor.”

  “Yes, she is, but Evie’s not selling Patsy Duff liquor or trying to marry her”—he gave a snort—“or registering her to vote. I mean, what law is Evie breaking that I’m supposed to do something about?”

  Mom had tears in her eyes by then, one rolling down her cheek. The sheriff said, “Oh, now, don’t take this hard.”

  “How’m I supposed to take it?” Mom reached in her pocket for a Kleenex.

  “I’ll tell you something. I don’t even think this thing is important. I had an uncle who was funny, and you wouldn’t meet a nicer fellow. He didn’t bother anyone, and—”

  “Evie’s not funny,” said my mother. “She’s not some freak.”

  “Neither was my uncle Bob, Cynnie. I didn’t mean he was a freak. He was more a fluke. All families got a fluke—if not right in front of them, way back. We even had a rooster out to our place once you couldn’t get to go near the hens for love or money! It happens!”

  Mom blew her nose.

  She said, “Did you tell all this to Mr. Duff?”

  “No, ma’am. I just said I’d look into it. Did you ever try to tell Duffy anything?” He laughed. “That young lady of his has always been a rebel. I don’t know how many speeding tickets I’ve written for her. She’s got a wild streak. She’s about the only thing Duffy can’t control, and it gets to him. That’s what this is all about. She’s going through a stage.”

  “And Evie?” Mom asked.

  He shrugged and grinned. “Evie’s what she is, and whatever that is, it hasn’t bothered anyone before, has it?”

  Mom didn’t answer for a second. Then she said, “Will he try to do anything more about it?”

  The sheriff shifted his weight from one foot to the other and socked one palm with his fist. He said, “Cynnie, don’t worry about this anymore. Patsy’s going back to Jeff City Monday, and when she’s finished there, Duffy’s packing her off to Europe. This whole thing’s going to blow over.”

  So Cord was right, in the long run, I thought.

  It was the short run we had to get past.

  And living with it I had to get past.

  After Sheriff Starr left, Mom said, “This is what I mean, Parr. This is exactly what I mean!”

  “What’re you talking about, Mom?”

  “Someone like Evie gets all the blame. She’s the funny one, the fluke … and Patsy Duff is just a rebel with a wild streak.”

  Then she shook her head and blew her nose again. “I suppose I understand why Cord did what he did. He’s feeling desperate, probably doesn’t even know it himself. It’s hard to feel yourself losing someone you love. But it was such gratuitous cruelty…. And for it to be done to Evie, too. Evie doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

  I almost blurted out right then and there that I was in on it along with Cord.

  But I was too big a coward. I couldn’t face Mom’s knowing I was capable of doing something like that. I couldn’t imagine answering to Dad, much less Evie. I had a feeling then that if there was any way I could work it, it’d be a secret I would keep all my life.

  27

  THAT SATURDAY NIGHT DAD was like a hornet that had been stepped on but not killed. He was beat and angry: at Cord for what we’d done, at Doug for not getting home until the planting was already down, and at Evie for refusing to say she’d stop seeing Patsy Duff.

  He had a shower and a sandwich and then he went straight to bed.

  Evie had a shower, too. Then she took off in her Pontiac, not saying where she was going.

  Around nine o’clock Mr. Kidder called me
to say he’d pick me up at five the next morning, so I could attend the sunrise service at The Church of the Heavenly Spirit.

  Mom was good-natured about it, but when we got up to our room, Doug read me out.

  “I broke my neck to get here so we could all go to St. Luke’s together. You know how Mom likes that at Easter.”

  “You should have broke your neck to plant with us.”

  “I had an interview with the dean this morning. It was the only time he could see me, Parr…. I’ve got some news.”

  I thought, Uh-oh. I knew something was coming. I knew my brother. He’d dismissed the Evie thing by saying there was no point talking about it: What was done was done. I don’t think it sank in about Patsy and Evie, not really. He was caught up in his own world over at the university.

  I got under the covers and snapped off my light.

  He left his on. He sat on the bed in his shorts, hands on his knees, leaning forward so he could talk softly.

  “I’m changing my major,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I want to be a vet, Parr. I want to work on farm animals. I know a lot about livestock diseases already. I’m good at that sort of thing.”

  “What’ll happen here?”

  “There’s Evie, and there’s Cord. And Dad can hire help. He’s going to have to anyway, or he’s going to have to rent out some of the land.”

  “Didn’t you hear what’s going on with Evie?”

  “That’ll pass. I’m talking about the future. I’ll be here to help out in season, and summers, for a few more years. That’ll give Dad time to figure things out.”

  “Or have a heart attack.”

  “I can’t help it. I don’t want to be a farmer.”

  “Anna Banana change your mind?”

  “Don’t call her that. She helped me see things more clearly. She doesn’t want to live on a farm, either. If you marry a woman who doesn’t want the farm life, forget it.”

  “Marry her?”

  “Someday. But even if I never marry Bella, I don’t see myself living Dad’s life. I want more for myself, Parr.”

  “Okay. I don’t blame you.”

  “It doesn’t mean you’ll be stuck here. Don’t let it mean that.”

  “I’ll be the only one left.”

  “Evie will be here.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “You kidding? Evie loves this place.”

  “You used to, too.”

  “Not like Evie…. And Cord’s a good farmer. Evie doesn’t have to date him. She’ll forgive all this.”

  “You think Dad will?”

  “Dad is a practical man, Parr. He’s not going to find a better worker than Cord.”

  “So you’ll forgive Cord, too?”

  “It’s over where I’m concerned. You live here in this little world, you can’t afford big grudges.”

  “Can you where you’re going?”

  “Don’t sound so sour, Parr. I’ll be around.”

  “Sure!”

  “I will.”

  I said, “Put out the light, would you?”

  “I know it’s sudden, Parr, and I know how you feel, but Dad will work it out. We all have to live our own lives.”

  “When are you going to tell him?” I asked.

  “Not this weekend, Parr. Mom and Dad are going through enough with Evie.”

  He snapped off the light.

  I said, “Evie’s going through a lot, too.”

  “Doesn’t she know the Duffs by now? How’d she ever get herself mixed up in that?”

  “I guess she couldn’t help it,” I said. “None of us seem to be able to help what we’re doing.”

  “We’re changing, that’s why.”

  I was sound asleep when I felt the hand on my shoulder.

  “Shhh, Parr, come into my room.”

  I got up and followed Evie down the hall.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s three in the morning. I’m sorry, Parr, but I have to tell you something.”

  “I didn’t even hear you drive up.”

  “I walked up. The car’s down in the road. I just came from Duffarm. Patty’s mother’s real ill. Her father says it’s our fault she’s had a breakdown. They’re going to put her in some clinic in Kansas City. Patty’s sick about it. The best thing I can do is just clear out!”

  Behind her, on the bed, there was an open suitcase, packed. She was getting down her strongbox from the top of the bookcase, taking out money.

  “Don’t let Duff run you out of town!” I said.

  “I was going anyway. After Patty gets out of Appleman, he’s sending her abroad to some aunt she’s got in France. He says if she still wants to see me when she gets back, that’s her business.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “No. But I want to go, Parr. How can I stay here now?”

  “Does she want to go abroad?”

  “It’s not a case of what she wants, Parr…. My car will be over at the bus depot in King’s Corners. I’m getting the five forty-five to St. Louis.” She was looking in the bookshelf. “I need something to read while I wait.”

  “You going to leave a note for Mom and Dad?”

  “No. Tell Mom not to worry. I’ll be in touch. Tell Dad where the car is. You can drive it when you get your license, okay?”

  “I can? Thanks, Evie!”

  She was closing the suitcase.

  “Go in and flush the toilet,” she said, “in case Mom woke up.”

  She gave me a hug, put out her light, and pushed me toward the bathroom.

  “Take care, Evie,” I whispered.

  “Thanks, Parr.”

  Yeah, thanks, I thought.

  The whole damn thing was my fault.

  28

  IT WAS STILL DARK when the Kidders came for me. Even the roosters across the way were asleep.

  Evie hadn’t left a note, so I wrote one fast and left it on the table.

  Evie’s gone to St. Louis, so don’t look for her. I’ll explain later. She’s okay. P.

  I sat in back with Angel, our hands sneaking over to meet. I had on a suit and one of Doug’s old ties. Angel was wearing a white dress, white tights, and white shoes, with a pink sweater, a pink cloth rose pinned to it. Her long black hair was just washed. I could smell the coconut shampoo she favored.

  Mr. Kidder got right down to business. “We’ve heard the rumors about your sister, Parr, and we’re sorry for your family.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Now, I have heard the same thing said about Evie was said about the Duff girl on that sign. Was nothing on that sign said your sister had gone after Duff’s daughter.”

  “That’s what I heard, too,” I said.

  “So now this is just slander, and ‘he that uttereth slander is a fool’!”

  “Father reminded us of the Old Testament’s words that ‘whoso privily slandereth his neighbor,’ him will the Lord cut off,” said Mrs. Kidder.

  “Yes, ma’am. Evie’s gone, anyway. She took off.”

  “She has, Parr?” Angel glanced up at me.

  I nodded.

  “Can’t say as I blame her,” said Mr. Kidder.

  “We just want you to know we were too hasty judging Evie,” said Mrs. Kidder.

  “You were too hasty, Mother. I never judged her. ‘God is the judge; he putteth down one, and setteth up another.’”

  “Poor Evie,” said Angel. “If anybody’d said that about me, I’d like to die!”

  “Well, she’s gone to St. Louis instead,” I said.

  “She’ll be better off away from here,” said Mr. Kidder. “Buck Duff is not a fellow you want against you…. Did you finish planting with all this going on?”

  “Nothing interferes with planting,” I said.

  “I was going to say if you had more to do, I’m finished over at the Fultons’. Bud went back to Columbia last night. But I could lend a hand, if your dad’s not done.”

  “Thanks, he is. But I�
�ll tell him that.”

  “We had fine weather, didn’t we?”

  “Yes,” I said. Angel was squeezing my hand, sitting as close to me as she could get herself.

  The sunrise service was in the tent lot in Floodtown where farmers brought in small crops at the end of summer, extra tomatoes, corn, cucumbers and other vegetables, flowers, and baked goods.

  There was a post marking the highest point of the floodwater back in ’73, which was the flood that wiped out the farms and homes of everyone in Floodtown. There was a wall behind that with a quote from Mark Twain painted on it.

  One who knows the Mississippi will promptly aver … that 10,000 River Commissions … cannot tame that lawless stream … cannot say to it Go here or Go there and make it obey … cannot bar its path with an obstruction which it will tear down, dance over, and laugh at.

  Under that were names of people who hadn’t survived.

  It was just getting light enough to see our way into the rows of folding chairs, facing a makeshift pulpit, with benches for the choir behind it.

  The sun was rising in the sky at the end of Pastor Bob’s short sermon about the meaning of Easter, and the choir rose and sang “I am Risen.”

  Then it was Angel’s turn.

  As soon as she got going, I knew she’d picked the hymn herself.

  It was called “We’ll Never Say Good-bye,” and she looked right down at me when she sang the chorus:

  We’ll never say good-bye in heaven,

  We’ll never say good-bye (good-bye)

  For in this land of joy and song,

  We’ll never say good-bye.

  I went back to their trailer for sausage, eggs, and homemade biscuits, and then I asked Mr. Kidder if he’d mind driving me over to St. Luke’s. I said that Easter Sunday meant a lot to my mother, that we tried to have the whole family together.

  In the car he said, “I didn’t want Angel to ride with us because I wanted to say something personal to you, Parr.”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  “Angel says you’ll be getting your driver’s license soon. I’m glad for you, because I remember myself at your age, champing at the bit to get behind a wheel.”

  “I’m going to have Evie’s car,” I said.

  “I’m glad for you, Parr. But I got a rule and I don’t want it broken. Angel’s not to be out after dark in that car unless it’s a very special occasion like a dance at her school or yours, and then you’ll have to drive her straight home. No parking, ever, Parr. You know what I mean?”