Stories of Erskine Caldwell (26 page)

She stopped at the bottom step on the back porch. There was no sound within the house that she could hear, and not even the sound of Myrtie’s footsteps reached her ears. The place seemed to be entirely deserted, and yet she knew that could not be, because only half an hour before when she left to go to Mrs. Farrington’s to exchange eggs, Willis was sitting in the crib door shelling seed corn, and Myrtie was in the kitchen scouring the two frying pans.

Nell’s hands went out and searched for the railing that led up the porch steps. Her hands could not find it, and her eyes would not let her see it.

The thought of Mrs. Farrington came back to her again and again. Mrs. Farrington, sitting on her own back porch, talking. Mrs. Farrington, sitting in her rocking chair, looking. Mrs. Farrington, peeling purple-top turnips, talking about yellow girls.

Nell felt deathly sick. She felt as if she had been stricken with an illness that squeezed the core of her body. Deep down within herself, she was deathly ill. A pain that began by piercing her skull struck downward and downward until it became motionless in her stomach. It remained there, gnawing and biting, eating the organs of her body and drinking the flow of her blood. She sank limp and helpless upon the back porch steps. Although she did not know where she was, she could still see Mrs. Farrington. Mrs. Farrington, in her rocking chair, looking. Mrs. Farrington, peeling purple-top turnips, talking about yellow girls.

Nell did not know how much later it was when she opened her eyes. The day was the color of the red seed corn Willis had been shelling when she last saw him sitting in the crib door, and it swam in a sea so wide that she almost cried out in fear when she saw it. Slowly she remembered how she had come to be where she was. She got to her feet weakly, holding to the railing for support.

Stumbling up the steps and across the porch, she flung open the screen door and went into the kitchen. Myrtie was standing beside the table mashing the boiled Irish potatoes with a long fork that had seven tines. Myrtie looked up when Nell ran in, but she did not have an opportunity to speak. Nell ran headlong through the dining room and on into the front room. Myrtie looked surprised to see her running.

Nell paused a moment in the doorway, looking at Willis, at the room, at the daybed, at the floor, at the rugs, at the open door that led into their room. She stood looking at everything she could see. She looked at the pillows on the daybed, at the rugs on the floor, at the chairs against the wall, at the counterpane on their bed. Remembering, she looked at the carpet in their room. Willis sat in front of her reading the
Macon Telegraph
that had just come in the mail, and he was calmly smoking his pipe. She glanced once more at the daybed, at the pillows arranged upon it, and at the rug in front of it. Running, she went to their room and ran her hands over the counterpane of the bed. She picked up the pillows, feeling them, and laid them down again. She ran back into the other room where Willis was.

Willis looked up at her.

Nell ran and fell on her knees in front of him, forcing her body between his legs and locking her arms around him. She pressed her feverish face against his cool cheeks and closed her eyes tightly. She forced herself tightly to him, holding him with all her might.

“Did Mrs. Farrington exchange with you?” he asked. “I’ll bet a pretty that she had something to say about that big brown egg in a basketful of Leghorns.”

Nell felt her body shake convulsively, as if she were shivering with cold. She knew she had no control over herself now.

“Look here,” he said, throwing aside the
Telegraph
and lifting her head and looking into her eyes. “I know where that brown egg came from now. I remember all about it. There was one of Mrs. Farrington’s old Dominecker hens over here yesterday morning. I saw her scratching in the yard, and she acted like she didn’t give a cuss whether she clawed up a worm or not. She would scratch awhile and then walk off without even looking to see if she had turned up a worm.”

Nell felt herself shaking again, but she did not attempt to control herself. If she could only lie there close to Willis with her arms around him, she did not care how much she shivered. As long as she was there, she had Willis; when she got up and walked out of the room, she would never again be that certain.

(First published in
Story
)

T
HEY SAT ON THE
lawn looking up at the fluttering leaves on the old maples. He was beside the wagon with his arm over the red wooden body; she was on the other side, sitting with her legs crossed under her and with her hands folded in her lap.

“That is the oldest tree over there,” Elizabeth said, pointing across the lawn. “I know it’s the oldest, because it’s the one where the squirrels live.”

“But that’s not why it is the oldest, silly,” Robert said. “It’s the oldest because the leaves stay green the longest. The little trees turn red first.”

A week ago all the trees were as green as the newly mown lawn, and then all of a sudden they had begun to turn. The grove of maples on the hill was orange and gold, the younger trees were the deeper color; and in the yard the old maples that had been there scores of years were turning yellow and purple. In a short while the leaves would begin to twirl and spin on the branches when the breezes blew, and then they would twist themselves off and come fluttering down. After that the grass would die, the flowers would shrivel, and the hills and fields would be a deep dark brown until the first snow fell.

“The sky was raining paint last night while we slept,” Elizabeth said. “It rained a pot of paint on every tree.”

“Daddy says it is the end of summer. He said that the trees turn red and orange and yellow every year when summer is over.”

“I didn’t see it last year.”

“But Daddy said that last year all the trees were colored. They were yellow for a while, and then all of them were red. When the leaves turn red, that’s when they are ready to fall almost any minute. That’s because they are dead.”

The front door opened. Robert dropped the wagon tongue and raced to the porch. “Here’s Daddy! Here’s Daddy! Daddy’s come out to play!” Elizabeth ran after him. They clambered up on the porch steps as fast as they could.

“Now what?” Daddy said.

“Play!” said Robert, jumping up and down, swinging on his arm. “We’re going to play!”

“Is this the end of the week, Daddy?” Elizabeth asked. “Are you going to stay two whole days now?”

“It’s the end of the week. No more city for two whole days.”

“Let’s play,” Robert said, pulling him down the steps. “Let’s play everything!”

“We are tired of playing bear, aren’t we?” Daddy asked. “We played bear last week-end. What’ll we play this week?”

“Bear!” Robert cried. “Let’s play bear again. It’s more fun than anything else.”

“I’ve just thought of a new game to play,” Daddy said. “How would you like to play horse, Robert?”

“Oh, let’s play bear first of all,” Elizabeth begged, pulling him across the lawn. “Just for a little while, Daddy, and then we can play all the other games.”

“All right, then,” Daddy said. “Who’s going to be the great big black bear this time?”

“You are!” Robert said. “You’re always the bear, Daddy. Let’s hear you growl!”

“Woof!” Daddy said, dropping down on his hands and knees. “Woof! Woof! Woof!”

“Oh, don’t scare me so!” Elizabeth cried, crawling backward. “Please don’t scare me so! I’m awfully scared of bears!”

“Woof! Woof! Woof!” Daddy said, pawing the lawn and waddling after her.

“You’re missing me!” Robert said. “Here I am. Growl some at me.”

“Woof! Woof! Woof!”

“Look! Here are some berries for the big black bear,” Elizabeth said, holding out a handful of grass. “Would you like to have some berries?”

“Woof!” Daddy said, licking the short blades of grass from her hand. “Woof!”

“I’m going to ride the bear!” Robert cried. “Look at me! I’m going to ride the big black bear’s back. I’m not afraid!”

Robert ran and climbed on Daddy’s back, whipping the bear with a maple twig to make him get-up.

“Now, let’s play horse,” Daddy said. “This is a new game. We’ve never played horse before, have we, Elizabeth?”

“Oh, let’s do!” she said. “Hurry, Robert! Get down off the bear’s back so we can all play horse. It’s going to be lots of fun, isn’t it, Daddy?”

“It certainly is,” said Daddy. “But who is going to be the horse?”

“Oh, you are!” Elizabeth cried. “You be the horse.”

“All right. I’m the horse. Now look out! Here comes the wild white horse!”

“What’s the horse going to do?” Robert asked.

“The horse would like some sugar,” Daddy said. “The horse likes sugar better than anything else. He likes salt sometimes, but he would rather have sugar now. He hasn’t had any sugar for a long time.”

“Where’s the horse going to get sugar?” Elizabeth asked. “We haven’t any out here.”

“Neigh! Neigh! Neigh!” Daddy said, galloping around in a circle on his hands and feet.

“The horse is looking for sugar,” Robert said. “Look out! Don’t let the wild horse kick you!”

Daddy stopped, twisted his head from side to side and raised his foot high into the air behind him.

“Look out!” Robert cried. “The horse is getting ready to kick!”

Daddy held his foot high up behind him a moment and kicked. He kicked so hard it made his shoe come tumbling off.

“The horse kicked his shoe off!” Elizabeth said. “Let’s be careful, because the horse is angry with us for not giving him some sugar. Oh, where will we find some sugar!”

“I’m not afraid of the horse,” Robert said. “Watch me! I’m going to ride him!”

“He’ll throw you off,” said Elizabeth. “You’d better wait until he gets some sugar first.”

“Watch me! This is the way to catch a wild horse and ride him away!”

“Neigh! Neigh! Neigh!” Daddy said, galloping off. He stopped and kicked high into the air with his other foot. That shoe did not come off as the other one had.

“Here I go!” Robert said. “Watch me ride the wild horse all around the pasture!”

Daddy stood still until Robert had climbed on his back. Then he shook his head from side to side, snorted, and pawed the lawn.

“Let me ride, too,” Elizabeth begged. “I’d like to ride the wild horse.”

She climbed on Daddy’s back behind Robert and held Robert around the waist so she would not be thrown off when the horse bucked and reared.

“What are you getting down flat on the ground for, Daddy?” Robert asked. “We are all on. You may get up now, Daddy. Make the wild horse snort and buck!”

Daddy lay down flat on the lawn. Elizabeth got off, but Robert took a maple-tree twig and tried to make the horse get-up.

“The horse won’t get-up,” Robert said. “He wants to lie down.”

“Why don’t you play horse any more, Daddy?” Elizabeth asked. “If you are tired of playing horse, let’s play another game. I know a good one called ‘Hunting the Kitty.’ Don’t you wish to play that with us? It’s lots of fun, Daddy.”

Robert got up and walked towards the porch. He stopped and looked back at Daddy and Elizabeth on the lawn.

“I’m going to tell Mother you won’t play with us any more, Daddy,” he said. “She’ll come out and make you play.”

He ran into the house. Elizabeth moved closer to Daddy and began searching for four-leaf clovers in the grass.

The red leaves on the maples in the yard were falling to the lawn. When a sudden gust of wind blew, the leaves spun and twirled on their stems, fluttering to the ground like small pieces of torn red paper. Over on the hill the orange and gold trees rustled and bowed in the wind, shaking themselves until the underside of the leaves turned outward to the sun.

Mother and Robert came out the front door and walked across the lawn. Mother put her finger over her lips so that no one would make a sound. She came closer, tiptoeing softly on the smooth lawn, trying not to make any noise. Robert held her by the hand, holding his finger over his lips, too. Elizabeth put her hand over her mouth, nodding her head up and down, and opening her eyes wider and wider. In another moment they could all scare Daddy, because he did not know that Mother and Robert were there.

When Mother got almost in front of him, she took her finger from her lips and nodded at Robert and Elizabeth. He and Elizabeth were all but bursting with excitement.

“Boo!” Mother cried, falling down beside Daddy on the grass.

“Boo! Daddy!” Robert said.

“Boo!” said Elizabeth, jumping up and down.

Mother looked down at Daddy, waiting for him to raise his head and smile at her. She waited another moment and bent closer.

A small black ant was crawling over his nose. On the back of his white shirt a big green grasshopper sat with his long legs all ready to spring.

“Look at the funny grasshopper,” Robert said, touching it with a blade of grass. “He’s resting on Daddy’s shirt. Look at him jump so high!”

“Shhh!” Mother said, putting her finger over her lips again. “Don’t make any sounds. Daddy is fast asleep.”

“Then how can we play, if Daddy isn’t going to be the wild horse?” Elizabeth asked, pouting.

“Playing horse isn’t much fun,” Robert said. “I would like to play something else when Daddy wakes up.”

Mother sat down close to Daddy, taking one of his hands in hers. She held his hand a moment, and dropped it.

“What’s the matter?” Elizabeth asked, clutching Mother’s skirt. “Why did you scream, Mother?”

Mother was biting her lips and looking down at Daddy’s white shirt where the big grasshopper had been sitting. A maroon maple leaf fluttered down, spinning over and over. It fell on Daddy’s shirt and lay there.

“Will Daddy play with us again when he wakes up?” Robert asked. “We had almost finished playing horse, and there’re some other games we wish to play, too.”

“Daddy kicked so hard while we were playing horse that his shoe came off,” Elizabeth said. “Look! Here it is!”

She picked it up, and Mother took it from her and held it in both of her hands, pressing it against her breast. Her fingers moved over it as if she were trying to feel what it was without looking at it.