Cindy and Marie went home a hour or so after supper, and Guthrie left to take Kenny home. Since they would be living in the
line cabin, there was no sense in Nancy taking any of the shower presents to her house in town. She'd only have to cart them back again.
So, it was decided that they would all be stored at our house, until they could be moved to the cabin when it was done.
Ah, but where to put all of them? That was the dilemma. First, Evan suggested that they all be stacked against the other
wall of his bedroom, and on Ford's bed, since he wouldn't be around much.
To this suggestion, Ford said, "Leave enough room on my bed for me to sleep. I'll be home next weekend."
"Really?" Hannah asked, looking pleased. "That's great. We never get to see you this much."
"How come you're coming home every weekend?" Evan asked, and Nancy gave him an admonishing nudge in his ribs.
"I just feel like bein' in the loving circle of my family," Ford said, lifting his hands in a 'what's the problem' type of way.
"You are so full of bullshit," Evan said, with a grin. "I think there's another reason for the sudden desire to be around Murphys every weekend."
Brian and I exchanged a brief look. I had my suspicions and I knew he was thinking the same. Her name be Felicity.
7
I did my shot, and was in my bedroom, already in my pajamas by 8:00 that night. I was tired. It had been a really
eventful weekend, to say the least. Bright spots in it for sure. The bridal shower, and Kenny. But, mostly it was overshadowed by
what had happened with Adam. I wasn't sulking by going upstairs so early. I just felt like being alone.
I read awhile, and finished my homework, and then I started writing up an article for the journalism class. It was just
tentatively written right now. I would still have to do some rewriting and more research. It was on the price to spay or neuter
your pets. I knew that part of it, from working at the vet office. My intent was to write it up, pointing out the relative affordable cost
of doing so, and then I thought I would research how many litters were the norm for most cats and dogs to have. In doing that, I thought
it might show how many unwanted animals were born, just because their owners didn't spay and neuter them.
I left it to finish later, and was in the process of packing up my homework and things, preparing to go to bed, when
there was a light tap at my door.
"Come in," I said.
Ford stuck his head around the door. "Hey."
"Hi," I said.
"Okay if I come in?"
"Sure."
He came in, and came over, sitting down on my bed, and bouncing up and down for a couple of moments.
"Are you staying tonight?" I asked him.
"Yeah. I'm gonna get up early in the morning to head back."
I nodded, and finished zipping up my backpack.
"I figured I better tell you goodbye now, in case I leave before you get up in the morning."
"I'm glad you didn't leave without saying goodbye," I told him.
Ford sort of laid back a little, propped up on his elbows. "I wouldn't do that, goofy."
I sat down on the bed, too, and folded my legs to the side. "You did last time."
"Huh?" Ford asked, looking at me.
"Last week. You left without telling me goodbye."
"No, I didn't," he denied, sounding certain.
When I only looked at him, he wrinkled his forehead, looking less certain. "Did I?" he asked.
"Yeah."
Ford sat back up straight again. "Man, I'm sorry, Har. I didn't even realize."
"It's okay," I said.
"I must have been thinkin' about somethin' else," Ford said, sounding regretful.
"It's okay," I said again.
"Well, it must have bothered you, or you wouldn't have even noticed," he said, studying me.
"It bothered me a little," I admitted. "But, I knew you didn't do it on purpose."
For a couple of moments we just looked at each other, and then Ford said, "I wouldn't ever wanna hurt your
feelings, Har. Not intentionally."
"I know."
He looked so regretful, that I was sorry I'd brought it up at all.
"I recovered," I said, lightly.
"Okay," he said.
I thought about asking him about Felicity, but then I figured I would wait. He might end up not going out with her again, anyway.
Instead, I stretched my legs out, and rested my feet on his leg.
"Tell me about some of your classes," I suggested.
And, so, we were talking about stuff, when Adam appeared in the open doorway. I saw him first, and then Ford did, and
we tapered off with our conversation.
"Hey, Adam," Ford said.
"Hey. We're finishing up what's left of the cake from the shower, if you two are interested," Adam said.
"I could go for a piece of cake," Ford said.
Adam nodded, and looked at me. I hadn't said anything.
"How about you?" he asked me, and I could tell he was trying to be nice.
"No, thanks," I said.
"Okay," Adam said. He hesitated, and then said, "Listen, Harlie, about tomorrow, you can ride to school to Guthrie, and
then Clare has a doctor appointment, so she's gonna pick you up and take you to Ivy's. One of us can run in to get you when
you're done. Alright?"
That seemed like an awfully lot of running around to accomplish getting me to the vet office, but I wasn't going to say
so. I just nodded, and said, "Okay."
He nodded, and Ford said, "I'll be down in a minute. Don't let Evan or Guthrie get my share of the cake."
"I'll do my best," Adam said. He looked at me again. "'Night," he said.
"Goodnight," I answered.
When he'd gone, Ford looked thoughtful. "Adam has somethin' on his mind," he said.
"What makes you say that?" I asked, though I didn't disagree at all.
Ford shrugged. "Just seems as though he does. He gets that way, like he's thinkin' all the time, tryin' to figure
somethin' out."
He stood up, then, and held out both his hands to me. "Come on, stand up," he ordered.
"How come?" I asked.
"So I can hug you goodbye, you goof."
"Oh," I said, and then took his hands and let him pull me up. "Well, okay," I said, jokingly. "I guess that's a good enough reason to get up."
Ford's hug was fierce. Hard.
"Good grief," I told him. "You're squeezing the stuffing out of me, Ford!"
"Just makin' up for the one I forgot to give you last week," he told me.
7
I was quiet, thinking a lot, as Guthrie and I drove to school the next morning. Guthrie was bemoaning the fact that
we never had a day off of school.
"Why can't we have some good luck?" he asked. "Like, say, a water pipe was to break and flood the school, and it took a week or
so to clean it all up."
I shook my head at his nonsense. "Not going to happen, Guth."
Once we were at the high school, Guthrie didn't head inside right away, and when I asked him why, he
said he was waiting for Kenny to show up.
"I wanna walk in with him, with it bein' his first day back and all," Guthrie said. "He's sort of nervous."
I offered to wait, too, but Guthrie said I didn't have to.
"I'll see ya at lunch, maybe," he told me.
My morning passed by fairly quickly, it seemed. I was determined to buckle down and not have any more trouble with
my grades. I let Miss McQueeney read my article about the necessity of controlling unwanted puppies being born, and she
liked it. She told me to finish up the research on it, and get it turned in. She asked me if I wanted to cover the football game
that coming Friday night, taking pictures and all. I told her I'd let her know about that.
I saw Kenny a couple of times in the hallways, between classes, and he waved at me. It seemed as though Guthrie, or Trent, or Lonnie
was always with him, and I wondered if the boys had planned it that way.
At lunchtime, outside, a big group of us sat together. I found a moment to ask Kenny how his morning had gone.
He shrugged a little, and then said, "It's just gonna take awhile. For some of the kids to get used to me bein' around
again."
I could tell from the way he said it, that he must have had some stuff said to him by someone. Someone who wanted to remind him
that he'd disgraced Murphys, or his family.
After lunch, I had my last class of the day, and then I gathered up my homework, and went up front to the office, to wait
for Clare to come and get me.
When she did come, I was sorry to see that she looked pale and washed-out. As if she could literally puke at any moment.
"How did it go at the doctor's?" I asked her, wondering if I should even ask.
"Fine. Good," she said, as we walked down the school steps out front.
Once we were in her small car, though, she turned to look at me. "He says I've lost ten pounds, and wants me to not lose any more."
"Wow," I said, looking at her. "That's a lot, huh?"
"Yeah." She sighed a little.
"Can't they give you something, to help with you feeling so nauseous all the time?" I asked.
Clare patted her purse, setting in the seat between us. "I have a prescription to fill that's supposed to help."
"Are you stopping now?" I asked, and when she nodded, I offered to go in and get it for her.
"You know what?" she said, pulling up in front of the drugstore, and parking. "I'm going to take you up on that. It's ridiculous how
tired I am, just from driving to the doctor."
"Not ridiculous," I told her. "You're growing a person. That's bound to make you tired."
"Thanks, toots," she said.
I took the script she'd gotten from the doctor, and the money she gave me, and went into the drugstore, where I wandered around looking at things, while
it was being filled. When I went back out to Clare's car, I repeated all the directions the druggist had told me to relay to Clare.
She nodded, tucking the sack into her purse.
She drove me on to the vet office then, and I got out, noticing that she was just sort of sitting still, her head resting on her hands.
I leaned back in my open window. "Are you alright to drive?" I asked her.
"I'll be alright. I think I'll just sit here for a couple of minutes," Clare said. She didn't sound very certain, though.
I stood there, debating. She really did look awful. I mean, awful as in not looking capable of doing anything at all.
"I'll drive you home," I said. "Let me go in and tell Ivy-"
"Harlie-" Clare began to protest, and I turned back to look at her.
"I don't want you to miss work-" she said, and I noticed that she wasn't refusing my offer because she felt capable, but only
out of concern for me missing work.
"It's fine," I said, and went inside. The bell over the door rang, and I found Ivy, right there, in the front office, a box
of medicines in front of her, and a pencil tucked behind one ear.
She greeted me with a smile. "Hi, Harlie!"
"Hi," I said. I explained quickly, about Clare being right outside in the car, and how I thought I should drive her home.
"Oh, sure, you have to," Ivy agreed, immediately.
"Thanks. I hope it doesn't leave you in the lurch, or anything."
"I'll muddle along without you, for today."
She walked back out with me, waving at Clare. "I'm supposed to come over to your house for supper tonight," she said.
"You are?" I asked.
"I've been invited," she said, and smiled again. She looked so happy. "Crane says he's making lasagna."
"That's great," I said. "Well, see you later."
"At 5:30," Ivy said, sounding jubilant.
7
I drove Clare's car home slowly, carefully. Mostly because I was trying to avoid potholes, so I wouldn't jolt her stomach.
When I'd come back out of the vet office with Ivy, Clare had already moved to the passenger side of the car, and on the way
home she didn't talk much at all. She kept the window down for air, and laid her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes.
Every once in awhile, I could hear her doing some sort of breathing exercise. Softly. Breathe in. Blow air out. Breathe in. Blow
air out.
Even though I tried to avoid bumps and holes, I didn't succeed, totally. After I'd been unsuccessful at detouring around
a patch of them, on the road nearest to our house, I winced in sympathy when she groaned.
"Sorry," I said.
"You're doing fine," she told me, her voice sounding gritty and determined. She still had her eyes closed.
As I turned into our long driveway, and got closer to the house, I saw that several of my brothers were attaching the
ear tags to calves, in the corral. The tags that Brian had been marking the day before.
They took notice of Clare's car, even though they were involved in what they were doing. I saw them all glance up.
I parked the car closer than usual to the house, too. I turned off the motor, and then, thinking that Clare might
actually have dropped off to sleep, since she was so still and quiet, I said, "We're home."
"Mmmm," was Clare's response.
"I'll come around and open the door," I told her, and got out. I was on her side, opening the passenger door,
when I saw a calf be released from the chute, and saw Brian then open the corral gate, and head our direction.
Clare put out a foot onto the ground, and then sat still again. "Oh, golly," she said, with a moan.
"Let me-" I began.
"No," she said, assuming what I was going to say. "Don't get Brian. He'll just get all worried. I'll be alright in
a minute."
Since the topic of our conversation was heading our way, very rapidly, already, I said, "He's walking this way."
"Oh, Lordy," she said.
Clare, thru sheer force, and determination, I guess, got out of the car, and stood, so that she was
upright when Brian walked up to us. Adam, now, was also headed our direction.
"What is it?" Brian asked. "What's wrong?" He laid a hand on Clare's waist.
Clare stood still, looking at him. "Nothing's wrong," she said, with obvious effort.
"Obviously there is somethin'," Brian corrected. "Harlie's drivin' you home. What did the doctor say?"
Adam by now had reached our little group, as well.
Clare looked as though she wanted to pass out, right there. I felt so badly for her. I knew Brian was just worried. Concerned. But,
there's nothing worse than being hammered with questions when you feel sick at your stomach.
"She was feeling a little bit rough," I spoke up.
Clare must have realized there was no point to trying to appear fine, or convince Brian otherwise.
"I was feeling a lot rough," she said. "Not a little. Harlie saved the day by driving me home. Now, can you stop, Brian? Please?"
To my surprise, I saw that Clare looked as though she was going to burst into tears.
"Alright," Brian said, quietly, putting an arm around Clare's waist. "Let's get you inside."
"Bri," I said, reaching into the open car door, and retrieving Clare's purse. When Brian looked back, I said, "There's a
prescription in here that the doctor gave her, to help with the nausea."
"Bring it in, will ya, peach?" he said, and proceeded to get Clare up the front steps.
"K," I said, and shut the car door. Still holding Clare's purse, I looked to Adam. His forehead was all crinkled, like
it gets when he's worried.
For the first time, while I was standing there, and he was looking at me, I realized that I had 'driven'. After he'd told
me I couldn't, until the following Friday. Granted, I'd done it to help Clare. But, still-there was that momentary wonder about
what he would think of it.
Well, I wouldn't care, I thought, feeling self-righteous. Clare had needed me, and I'd done what I had to do. No matter that
it had gone against what he'd said.
"Clare was feeling really bad," I said, clutching Clare's purse against my chest. "I was worried about her driving home
by herself."
"I'm glad you were there for her," Adam said. He still looked as though he was studying over something. "Ivy know you
weren't comin' in today?"
"I went in and told her," I said.
He nodded. "Good."
It didn't seem as though he was going to say anything else about it. I guess I had a little bit of a chip on my shoulder or something.
Because, what I said next, was, "I wasn't deliberately going against what you said."
Adam gave me a puzzled look, obviously not understanding. "What?"
"You said no driving until Friday. I thought you might be angry that I drove her home," I said.
Now, he looked startled, instead of puzzled. "Good grief, Harlie, what do you take me for?" he demanded.
He turned, as if he was going to walk away, but then he turned back. His voice, now, was quiet enough, but I thought I
heard steel underneath. He put his hands on his hips.
"This was a-" he hesitated, "A situation out of the norm. I don't have a thing to say to you about driving today, other
than I'm glad you were there to help Clare out. Does that clear things up for you?"
Now, I'd done it. I was sorry that I'd purposefully baited him. He was good and mad.
"Yes, sir," I said.
Adam stood there a moment or so longer, his eyes snapping with temper.
Now, foolishly, like a little kid, I wished that I could take it back. Adam ran his hand over his face, and then regarded
me again, steadily.
"I feel like something's not right here," Adam said, then, motioning his hand back and forth between himself and me. "Between us."
I admit it, I hadn't expected him to be quite so direct. I don't know why I was surprised that he would be, but I kind of was.
I nibbled at my lower lip, watching him.
"I'm not wrong about that, am I?" Adam asked.
To deny it, well, that wouldn't be truthful. Yet, I wasn't sure just what I felt was the problem, either.
So, that's what I decided to try to explain.
"No," I admitted, slowly. "You're not wrong."
"Okay," he said. "So? What are we gonna do about it?"
I felt really awkward, now. On the spot.
"I don't know," I said, lamely.
"I guess it depends on just exactly what you're upset with me about," Adam said.
"I don't know exactly," I admitted.
"Yeah. Well," he said, "Why don't you do some thinkin' about it, and I'll do the same. And, then, we'll get together, and
talk. Alright?"
I met his eyes, though I found it difficult. I nodded. "Yeah. Alright."
He gave me one last, contemplative glance, and then he turned, and went back over to where Evan and Crane were
still wrestling with the calves in the corral.
7
I immersed myself in household tasks the rest of the afternoon. Since I was home, anyway, I figured I might as well. Hannah
was beginning to look a little haggard. I imagined from the bridal shower the day before, and just everything in general.
I did loads of laundry, carting it upstairs and folding it after it was dried. I did a sink full of dishes left over from lunch that
she hadn't gotten to.
Isaac was teething, so he was extremely fussy. Which isn't his typical mood, at all.
Clare, meanwhile, was installed upstairs in she and Brian's attic rooms, and every so often, Hannah would go upstairs to check
on her. Brian had gone back outside again to work, but he himself came in at least twice that I knew of, that afternoon, to check on her.
Hannah had taken Isaac upstairs to give him a bath, and some baby Tylenol, to see if she could help him to feel better.
I was installed at the kitchen table, working on my homework, and then alternately, my article for the school paper. I'd found
some information in our encyclopedias on the statistics I wanted about dog litters every year.
At sometime after 3:30, Crane came in thru the back door, washing his hands at the kitchen sink.
"How goes it, peanut?" he asked me, cheerfully.
"Good," I said, and watched him as he began preparations for what I supposed was the promised evening meal of lasagna.
Crane was even whistling while he worked, and I nearly smiled.
He caught me at it, too.
"What's that quirky little smile about?" he asked me, as he pulled down Corning Ware casserole dishes from the cabinets.
"Was I smiling?" I asked, widening my eyes innocently.
"Very definitely."
"I guess I'm just thinking you seem awfully happy to be making lasagna."
"How did you know I was making lasagna?" he demanded.
"Oh, a little bird told me," I said, leaning my head back down over my writing again.
7