The Saints of Swallow Hill(69)

Cornelia sighed. “You’re right about that. Hey, Rae Lynn?”

“Um-hmm? ”

“What made you come here trying to act like a man? I mean, where’d you come from? What happened?”

Rae Lynn answered carefully. “I needed work, and somewhere to stay.”

Cornelia gave her an assessing look, while Rae Lynn acted like it was the most commonplace thing to do.

Cornelia said, “But you could a done all kinds a work as a woman. Seems complicated to me, even more so to try and do turpentine work.”

Rae Lynn feigned a casualness she didn’t feel. “Oh, I’ll tell you about it someday.”

Cornelia waited a second longer, then went onto the back porch with the wash. Rae Lynn heard her pumping water. She looked outside and saw her sorting her and Otis’s sheets near the big black kettle. Here it was, a Thursday, and they’d just done the wash on Monday.

Cornelia came back in and said, “I’ll let’em soak a bit.”

“Is it your . . . ?”

Cornelia went red. “No.”

She began washing dirty breakfast dishes while Rae Lynn put the last biscuit on the pan. She slid them in the oven, before going to stand by Cornelia to dry the plates. Rae Lynn had her suspicions about what was going on with them sheets, but if Cornelia didn’t want to talk about it, she ought to respect her.

She said, “Like I mentioned, I’m sure grateful to you, Nellie. Can I call you Nellie? It worries me how I’m gonna be so far in over my head I won’t never be able to pay y’all back.”

Cornelia glanced at Rae Lynn, her eyes gone watery.

She said, “Only Mama ever called me that.”

She’d skipped right over what Rae Lynn said about paying them. Otis reminded her enough as it was, practically lording it over her. He’d not done anything hurtful to Cornelia as of late. He still yelled at her, at the both of them actually, but for now, no new burn marks or bruises showed on her friend’s arms. She wished Cornelia would be more careful about getting too bold. It was as if Rae Lynn’s presence had given her a bit more gumption. She’d got to where she mimicked Otis behind his back while he bragged about something he’d done. Recently he told Rae Lynn how he’d once killed a twenty-foot gator with his bare hands. Cornelia rolled her eyes and held her hands about two feet apart to show the actual size.

Rae Lynn said, “Oh my,” while she fought to keep a straight face and not give Cornelia away.

Otis could barely contain himself over the idea she was interested in what he had to say and it spurred him on. “Yeah, and then I . . .”

He loved to hear himself. He’d go on and on about his daring accomplishments until Rae Lynn had a headache, and Cornelia dared to speak up.

“Otis, honey, it’s getting on late. Save some stories for another time.”

He went deep red, and started sulking. Rae Lynn worried Cornelia would be made to pay. Sure enough, she wore her dress with the long sleeves the next day, even as the temperatures rose close to a hundred.

Rae Lynn pointed and said, “Nellie, did he . . .”

Cornelia cut her right off and said, “I meant to tell you yesterday, we got to get some canned goods out on the shelves over to the commissary.”

Rae Lynn let it go. That evening Otis had made a snide comment about Cornelia’s appearance.

“Damn, woman. You looking about as wore-out as a old flat tire.”

He slammed a palm on the table and belted out a laugh that was more like a bark. Rae Lynn actually saw Cornelia’s shoulders sag as if the very weight of him sat entirely on her.

She said, “Yes, honey.”

Otis mimicked her. “Yes, honey. You’re pathetic.”

He went back to shoveling his food in, while Rae Lynn wanted to slap him. She didn’t know how Cornelia stood it.

The next morning when Cornelia came from their room, walking with difficulty and wearing a blue bracelet of bruises on her wrists, anger shot through Rae Lynn, but she stayed calm.

Her voice troubled, she said, “Nellie.”

Cornelia said, “It ain’t nothing. Don’t you say a word, now, Rae Lynn!”

Rae Lynn raised her hands in the air, concerned. “But, he shouldn’t treat you like he does.”

Minutes later, Otis came into the kitchen hiking up his pants with a self-satisfied, smug look. The fear on Cornelia’s face kept Rae Lynn quiet. All day, Cornelia was subdued. Midday she dropped into a chair and rested her head on her arms.

“I’m so tired, but I got to do them sheets.”

Rae Lynn’s mouth dropped. “Again?”

Cornelia didn’t look at her.

Rae Lynn said, “I can help if you want. It ain’t no problem atall. I got most everything else done for right now.”

Cornelia kept her head on her arms. “It’s all right. I just need a minute.”

Rae Lynn was worried for her. Cornelia had always been careful about her looks, but she hadn’t washed her hair in some time, and the dark curls capping her head, typically glossy, lay lackluster over her arm as if they too were too exhausted to shine.

Rae Lynn touched her again, on the arm, and said, “Why’re you having to wash them so many times in a week? Are you okay? Are you not well?”

Cornelia raised her head. She stared toward the bedroom first, then turned to the window where the commissary building could be seen. She got up and went to the front of the house and stood half inside the doorway, half out, staring toward where Otis ought to be busy working. Experience had shown, like a summer storm, he might appear unexpectedly and bring thunderous yelling along with lightning flashes of temper. Rae Lynn observed how cautious she was, and understood. Living with Otis Riddle meant always being watchful for his storms.