Passing through Perfect (Wyattsville #3)(43)
A man don’t like to say he’s got weaknesses, but if I was to be honest with myself I’d admit I need that boy as much as he needs me. He’s all I got left in this world and as long as I got him, I still got a piece of Delia.
The Blue Truck
Benjamin worked late Saturday; then he went to the hospital and did the Sunday morning cleaning. He napped for two hours in the back of the truck, then stopped in at Will’s gas station and washed his face. Afterward he headed out to Luella’s. It was early, but Isaac was ready and waiting.
“This young’un’s been counting off the days ’til you come,” Luella laughed. “I’d say he’s a mite anxious to get back home.”
Benjamin smiled. “I been kinda anxious myself.”
Luella handed him a plate. “Here’s a bit of ham and blueberry pie for y’all,” she said. “And if you get to needing something else, just come on back.”
“We’re gonna do just fine.” Benjamin gave Isaac a wink as he lifted him into the bed of the truck. He’d padded it with rags and blankets so it was soft enough for a baby.
On the trip home Benjamin drove slowly and tried to avoid the deep ruts that would cause the truck to bounce its cargo. Being cautious, he swung into a wide turn as he left Cross Corner Road and started down the lane that led to the house.
As soon as Benjamin switched the motor off he caught the smell of stew simmering, and when he opened the front door it came at him full force. It was an aroma so familiar he could almost believe Delia was there.
For nearly a month he’d been coming and going without stopping to look around the house. He’d worn the same shirt for days on end, and when it got too crusted with dirt to wear again he’d tossed it onto the pile on the bedroom floor. He’d left coffee cups on the table and not once swept the floor, but now everything was clean. On the table there was a note saying “Welcome Home.” It was signed by all of Delia’s friends.
That night when Benjamin and Isaac sat down to a supper of opossum stew and blueberry pie, the two empty chairs loomed larger than life.
“It’s just you and me now,” Benjamin said sadly.
In a move that was far beyond his eleven years, Isaac stretched his arm across the table and touched his hand to Benjamin’s.
“It’s gonna be okay, Daddy,” he said. “I miss Mama too, but leastwise we can be missing her together.”
Benjamin heard Delia’s words in their son’s voice, and a lump came into his throat. Isaac was the last remaining piece of Delia.
As they were clearing the supper dishes from the table, Benjamin came to the boy and hugged him to his chest.
“I love you, Isaac,” he said. “I love you same as I loved your mama.”
Once Isaac was home, Benjamin changed the way he was living. While the boy was still fast asleep, he would set out a breakfast then leave to clean the hospital. Afterward he’d do a job or two, but in the late afternoon Benjamin would quit working and start home. He made money enough for food, kerosene, and the few other things they needed and still had time to spend with Isaac.
That summer Benjamin came to know the soul of Isaac as he’d known the soul of Delia. On warm nights when the sky was still light, he’d hitch the mule to the small wagon and they’d go off together. Sometimes they fished and sometimes they went in search of a rabbit or squirrel they could hand over to Bessie for cooking. But there were many nights when they simply sat on the porch and talked.
In the first months of winter when darkness came early, Benjamin began to worry about the boy coming home alone. By then Isaac’s cast was off and he was walking back and forth to the schoolhouse. It was a good two miles but the last mile was along Cross Corner Road, which caused Benjamin’s concern.
It was a Tuesday in early November and he was in the middle of tar-papering the roof of Sam Preston’s shed when a queasiness started rolling through Benjamin’s stomach. It wasn’t what he’d eaten nor was it something you point a finger to and say this or that is the problem. It was what Delia had called a premonition.
In Alabama the worst storms occurred in the heat of summer. Lightning, thunder, tornados. They came when the ground was blistering and ready to explode. November rain was soft, showery, refreshing almost. Benjamin looked up at the sky and saw the angry dark clouds pushing against one another. He stopped hammering and listened. In the distance he heard the rumble of thunder, and that’s when he scrambled down from the roof. He knocked on the back door and told Sam, “I’ll be back tomorrow to finish up,” then climbed into his truck and headed for home.
Benjamin circled around the back road and past the First Baptist Church; then he turned onto Cross Corner Road to follow the path Isaac would take. He was looking for the boy to be walking along the roadside so he drove slower than usual. During the past three months he’d grown accustomed to checking the tires of every blue truck he saw, but on this day he had greater concerns. He was worrying over Isaac and not focused on the truck that came rumbling toward him. If it hadn’t crowded him onto the shoulder of the road he might never have noticed the rear wheel, but as the truck flew by Benjamin glanced across and saw the whitewall tire.
Making a quick three-point turn, he followed the truck back into Bakerstown. Just as Isaac said, the driver was a bearded man. The truck turned down Beaver Street and then pulled into the parking lot of the billiard parlor. The driver climbed out of the truck and disappeared through the door.