Finding Home Read online

  Something twisted inside Gage. “Regardless of what you may think, I’m not the piper coming to collect too soon. Are those tears I see?”

  “You see sweat!”

  “Oh. Go in the house and wash up, why don’t you? I’ll bury this mess.”

  Phoebe didn’t budge. “I can’t pay any on the bumper.”

  Gage rocked on his heels, his eyes mocking. “Well, I’d offer to take it out in trade, but between Hawley pride and Hawley elbows, I might end up like Hawley crabs.”

  “This ain’t no time for jokes! If you’d been here when I needed you, this wouldn’t’ve happened.”

  “You needed me?” His eyebrows rose. “That’s a departure from Hawley independence.”

  “I needed ice to save my crabs.”

  “Ah. Let me know when you need me for my own sake. Things might take a turn for the better.” And before she discerned that he’d laid his soul bare he rushed on. “I might consider fronting you the money for more bait, and a hundred pounds of ice should you need it. I know a bit about crabbing, if you’re willing to learn.”

  “I’m not eating any more crow on account of you. Besides, there probably ain’t a blamed crab left in that canal.”

  “If you’re interested, I’ll show you how to use the skiff, sink traps along the bay side of the marsh.”

  Phoebe’s spirits lifted. “Get the bait and show me now.”

  “Can’t. I’m expecting a flatbed with a propeller that needs repair. I’ve got to open the shop.”

  To that Phoebe applied the only bribe she owned. “Then you won’t find me in your bed tonight.”

  “Suits me. I haven’t recovered from last night.”

  Phoebe was unwilling to accept that she did not yet have a fixed and solid perch in his universe. “You appear recovered to me.”

  “Do I?” He recalled Phoebe’s ravenous sexuality, the way she had arched above him, the delicate veins in her breasts. He shook himself as if to shrug off a momentary enchantment. “Looks can be deceiving as I well know.”

  “If you’re so wobbly, how can you dig a hole?” She leaped from the truck bed with offhand bravado. “I’ll dig it. It’s my mess.”

  “Suppose we do it together?”

  Phoebe was conscious of a sudden need for him. She drew back from it as if drawing back from a chasm. “I don’t want any help from you. Where’s the shovel?”

  Rebuffed, Gage kept his eyes fixed on Phoebe. Last night she had given him an extraordinary gift. Now she was acting as if they’d shared little more than a breakfast together. Because of Phoebe the discipline he’d exercised in staying celibate had evaporated. The power she had gained over him in so short a time activated his ego and gave rise to an acid tongue.

  “Use your elbows, why don’t you?” he sneered sweetly. “It’ll go faster. If anybody wants me, I’ll be in the shop.”

  ~~~~

  Phoebe mourned every time she dumped a wheelbarrow full of crabs into the trench she’d dug in the soft ground near the canal edge. It was like burying gold that had gone bad.

  When finally she went into the house, she met with a racket that could have caused deafness. Gage had followed one of her suggestions. He’d bought Dorie a dozen chicks. The chicks were cheep-cheeping all over the house. Doing other things, too. Yelling and laughing, Dorie and Willie-Boy chased behind the yellow fluffs, enthralled. Phoebe grabbed at Dorie when she scooted out from under the table.

  “Get the mop and clean up behind those animals. This kitchen looks like a barnyard, smells like one, too. Then put those biddies in their box and out on the porch.” Willie-Boy was rasping for air. Phoebe made him lie down.

  Maydean was above chicks. She was parading around the house with a book on her head.

  “Phoebe, has my posture improved?”

  “Books are for the inside of your head, not the outside.”

  “You’re just jealous. You’d never win a beauty contest. They wouldn’t even let you enter!”

  “They won’t you, either, not with a pair of shiners.”

  It was an empty threat. The palms of Phoebe’s hands were sore, with blisters rising. She couldn’t even make a fist to wave in the air. Maydean was right. Her mind touched on all of the proud and beautiful things she would never be. Being clever had no beauty. Work might have a kind of beauty, but it took its toll on the worker. Love was supposed to be beautiful, but Gage had scorned it. Between his appeal and his menace, she was trapped. Love was on the side of the devil. She slid into a chair, folded her arms and laid her head upon them.

  The book slid from Maydean’s head. “Phoebe! What’s wrong?”

  “I’m tired. Tired of worry. Tired of work. Tired. Tired. Tired.”

  Maydean wrinkled her nose. “You stink, too.”

  A sob escaped Phoebe.

  The cry so startled Maydean she blurted: “You go take a bath and lie down. I’ll cook supper.”

  In her frame of mind, the suggestion held too much appeal for Phoebe to resist.

  ~~~~

  “How much flour do I use to make biscuits?”

  Drowsily, Phoebe came half out of the pleasant dream she was having. “Two cups.”

  A minute later Maydean was back. “How much lard?”

  Phoebe opened her eyes. The dreamy truckload of crabs disappeared entirely. “A cup.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I get up and cook lest we starve,” said Phoebe.

  “You feel like it?”

  “Go put your book on your head and sit in front of the TV, Maydean.”

  “I was only trying to help,” the girl said on an aggrieved note.

  Gage put his head in the door. “Are you sick?” His expression was one of alarm, exposed for only an instant. Maydean scooted around him and disappeared.

  “I can’t find the time to be sick,” Phoebe stated. She sat up and shoved her feet into her sandals.

  “Did you get overheated? You should’ve worn a hat.”

  Phoebe was wearing a thin shirt and the new blue shorts. She looked all legs. All limber legs.

  “I didn’t get overheated, I got mad. I came in here to get mad by myself.”

  “Maydean’s making a mess in the kitchen,” he said lamely.

  Phoebe ran her fingers through her hair. “I figured I ought to leave it like I found it.”

  There was a long time without sound, though neither of them noticed it.

  “You’re still mad at me,” he said with a drop in vigor.

  “I’m not mad. Ha ha. See, I’m happy.” She almost was, what with all the attention she was getting from him. Her cynicism melted as she tracked the great strength of his arms, his torso.

  “You’ve overdone it. Don’t cook. I’ll go after hamburgers and fries. Oh, here’s a letter that came for you. I meant to give it to you earlier.”

  “A letter?” Anger, dismay, the stirrings of desire flew out of Phoebe. Her throat tightened. “From who?”

  “Maybe those folks who’re holding that job for you?” He glanced at the return address. “It’s from a Hawley.”

  Ma! Phoebe could feel her body played upon by currents of hysteria and fear. Ma would never write unless something terrible had happened. A hundred expressions struggled beneath the surface of her features, but were erased before Gage could decipher their meaning.

  “It was one of my cousins that had the job for me.”

  “Biblical?” he scorned lightly.

  There was a sudden stubborn reserve in Phoebe’s eyes. She closed the distance between them, snatched the letter from him. “If you’re going after burgers, go!”

  “You’re back to normal.”

  “I’m always normal.” She pushed him out the door and slammed it.

  Once alone, a leaden feeling settled over her. She had the fatalistic sense of being drawn from one wrong turning to another.

  With trembling hands she opened the letter. No one had died. No one was hurt, but Erlene had taken Vinnie’s baby for a walk, sat him down
along the way and returned home without him. Then forgot where she’d walked. A neighbor had brought the baby home. To preserve his marriage, her brother Joey was loaning Ma the bus fare out of his paycheck on the Friday after rent week. Ma and Pa and Erlene were to arrive in Bayou La Batre the Saturday after rent week.

  Phoebe roamed about the room swallowing back panic. Life was playing a practical joke on her. She reread the last line. Saturday after rent week. Lor! Joey got paid every two weeks. Today was Monday. She had two weeks less two days to make things right, to get the crab business flourishing and cash in hand.

  The letter revived her feel for possibilities. For survival. Her brain began to whirl with ideas.

  Uppermost was an understanding with Gage. She had to manage it. In and out of bed, she’d be nice. She wouldn’t allow an unkind word to pass her lips.

  ~~~~

  They picnicked on the back porch, feeding scraps of flimsy French fries and bread crumbs to the chicks. The sun was getting lower and lower on the horizon, painting the bay golden. In the distance shrimp boats tied to bulwarks and fat stanchions lined the canal, tall booms casting shadows and nets hanging like spiderwebs gone awry. Phoebe eyed the crab traps stacked near the estuary on a bit of flotsam the incoming tide washed ashore. The tide also brought a freshening breeze, staving off the flurry of gnats and mosquitoes. A school of fish surfaced in the estuary and the youngsters raced to the rickety pier to watch. Phoebe was glad to see the back end of them so she could be alone with Gage.

  “I reckon I was too upset this afternoon to take you up on your offer of teachin’ me to crab right,” she said in her sweetest tone. “I was just disappointed that I couldn’t pay you.”

  “That was a fine catch to lose.”

  “You’ll help me set traps tomorrow?”

  “I’m a man of my word.”

  Phoebe beamed at him. “A lot of men ain’t. They tell a woman one thing and do another. And I appreciate you being so good to Willie-Boy, takin’ him with you today and all.” She hoped her invention of good humor was splattering all over him like shower water.

  “Willie-Boy’s no trouble.”

  “Maydean is. You sure tolerate her well. I suppose it’s ‘cause you’re doing such a good job with Dorie.”

  “That’s not what you said earlier.” He took out his pipe and began to fill it.

  “I know you better now. I see how hard you work to provide for her. Kids ain’t easy to raise. You being widowed, why, I reckon you’re doing the best you can. You want a beer? I’ll get it for you.”

  “I don’t want a beer. I need to keep my head clear.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have the feeling I’m tangling with a wildcat and I’m bound to get clawed.”

  “What wildcat?”

  “You.”

  “I ain’t mean!”

  “What have you got in store for me?”

  Phoebe canted an innocent look at him. “Why, nothin’. Lor! What a thing to say.”

  “Speaking of saying, what news did that letter bring?”

  Phoebe’s mouth went dry. “The job ain’t come open yet. Maybe next week, but most likely the week after. You mind us hangin’ around till then?”

  “I don’t know if I mind or not.”

  Phoebe felt her heart collapsing in upon itself. “You don’t?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Is it because Maydean stays in front of the bathroom mirror? I’ll tan her hide—”

  “It has nothing to do with Maydean.”

  “Willie-Boy aggravated you.”

  Gage shook his head.

  Phoebe distilled their conversation and came away enlightened. It was herself! She couldn’t bear it now that they were so intimately connected, which made her recall certain body parts disappearing when she laid flat on her back. Fear had its own seduction and she couldn’t help saying, “You don’t like me because I ain’t got a handful of skin anywhere.”

  That almost brought a smile to his lips, but then he pursed them and shook his head.

  Phoebe watched Gage fill his pipe, strike a match, put fire to the tobacco and go off somewhere in his own mind. She did like a thinking man. But it wouldn’t do her an ounce of good if he was remembering Velma’s infidelity. Memories like that could jaundice the way a man thought about women.

  “Then why don’t you know? I know. I like it here. And I got you to take pride in your place. I’m good for you. And, Dorie, why she likes me now.”

  “You’re a fast worker, I’ll hand you that.”

  Phoebe was nonplussed with the recognition that Gage held himself apart from her. Suddenly, as if she had willed it, there were dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes; the dark accentuating her eyes, which gleamed as though what was left of her vitality had centered itself in their depths.

  The sole dignity left to her was to act as if she didn’t care.

  “I’d better get those chicks in the shack. Like as not we’ll have to rig up a something to keep out chicken hawks.”

  “They should be okay in that box at night for a week or ten days. I’ll fix the coup. Maybe next weekend or the week after.”

  The week after. Phoebe shuddered. Our Father, save us, she prayed.

  She bedded down the chicks, placing an old piece of window screen over the box and anchored the screen with a brick. Two hours later she bedded down her own brood. She was nothing if not a positive thinker, and she meant to spend the night with Gage. But lying in her own bed, waiting for the house to settle she fell soundly asleep. She awoke at dawn, and then it was too late, for Gage was already up. She could smell the coffee percolating.

  She dressed quickly and fingers flying, braided her hair which was as close as she ever came to taming it. Gage wasn’t in the kitchen or anywhere else about the house. She discovered him down by the canal. He’d moved the skiff from its storage blocks into the water and was installing a small motor.

  “I’ll help you,” she said, coming up behind him.

  Gage started. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “I didn’t sneak.” He hadn’t yet shaved. His face was drawn. Phoebe worried that she was becoming too much of a burden. “You don’t have to show me how to run that boat. I can figure it out for myself.”

  “I said I’d show you and I will.”

  “You look like it pains you. Anyway, you’re not responsible for me. I can learn the crab business by myself.”

  Gage finished with the motor and stepped ashore. “You ever run a boat before?”

  “I’m a quick study.”

  He took her arm. “Let’s go back to the house. It’ll be an hour before the bait shop opens.”

  Phoebe allowed him to propel her along. It was wonderful to have him touching her, even if it was just her arm.

  ~~~~

  They sat together on the back porch steps, sipping coffee, watching the sun rise.

  “If I was back home and the mills hadn’t closed, I’d be at work now,” Phoebe said.

  “Why is it you have the care of Maydean and Willie-Boy? Are your parents ill? Or did you have a falling out and run off with your brother and sister?”

  “Not exactly,” said Phoebe, treading delicate ground.

  Gage cast a glance at her. “Not exactly? Either they’re ill or they’re not. Either you had a falling out or you didn’t.”

  “Well, for sure, the falling out was with Vinnie, my sister-in-law.”

  “And what about your parents? For sure?”

  Phoebe cleared her throat. “They live with my brother Joey and Vinnie. Erlene does too.

  “Erlene?”

  “My other sister. She suffered a fever,” added Phoebe which was as close as she dared to hinting that Erlene was loose-minded.

  “So there’s a whole clan of you Hawleys loose on the world. By any chance did the rest of your family lose their jobs when the mills closed down?”

  “We’re good folks, hard workers every one. Ma and Pa have the care of Erlene
and I’ve the care of Willie-Boy and Maydean. That’s just the way it worked out. Even Steven, three and three.”

  “I’m getting the picture now.”

  “What picture?”

  “You’re scouting.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think you do. Willie-Boy said you were supposed to find a place. He meant for your whole family.”

  ‘‘There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that!”

  “What’s wrong with it is you took one look at me and thought I was a pushover. I let you in. I’ve figured out how your mind works. You think you can sweeten me up and I’ll let the Hawley clan move in on me. That’s what getting in my bed was all about.”

  “I never thought that! Not for one minute! My aim is to make enough money to set Ma and Pa up in their own place.”

  “You’re a good daughter.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

  “I came to you because I wanted you. You’re the first man I ever saw I wanted. Ma and Pa didn’t have anything to do with it. It was me. By myself. Why if Ma knew what I’d done, she’d be scandalized.”

  “And your pa would show up aiming a shotgun.”

  “Pa has bad knees. He’s past hunting and guns. And anyway, he couldn’t make me take up with a man I don’t want.”

  “Pity the poor man.”

  In the growing light Gage’s profile was angular, strong. Moving outside her dismay, Phoebe noted how finely made were his ears. She reached up and stroked the outer curl. “Let’s not fuss. I meant to come to you last night—”

  He grabbed her wrist and put her hand back onto her knee. “I’m going after that bait. Now that I’ve got you figured, your success means as much to me as it does to you. I’ve got enough expense keeping up the yard and Dorie.”

  “You don’t want to talk about what we did.”

  “That’s right. And I don’t want you creeping into my room in the middle of the night again, either.”

  Phoebe was scared she knew what he meant. It threw a flush into her brain. “I ain’t up to doin’ it in the daylight yet,” she said, goaded by the need to keep the conversation, the intimacy, intact. But he was draining his cup, anxious to leave. “Gage. Don’t go yet. I like sittin’ here with you. I get the most funny feelin’ in my stomach just lookin’ at you and rememberin’. This mornin’ when I woke up and thought of you, I felt like I was hatchin’ a passel of moths.”