Dovetail: A Novel(26)
In the background, the younger girls watched with identical concerned expressions. They’d stopped gaping over the automobile and shifted their attention to the porch when their father had spoken out, telling Frank that Alice would not be accepting his invitation to ride in his new automobile. Now they all waited to see Frank’s reaction to being corrected by John Lawrence.
Frank tilted his head to the side, like a dog sizing someone up. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” He stuck out his hand. “Name’s Frank. My family owns the farm down the road. I’ve been friends of the Bennett family my whole life.”
“John Lawrence.” He grasped his hand. “I’ve just had the pleasure of meeting the Bennetts today.”
The two men shook, but Frank wouldn’t let go. He squeezed John’s fingers and kept talking. “Are you the boy who’s helping at the mill?”
“That would be me.” John widened his stance and leaned in, matching Frank’s grip in intensity. Pearl held her breath, hoping neither one would get broken fingers.
“Whereabouts you from, John?”
“Up north. Gladly Falls. I just came in on the train this afternoon.”
“Gladly Falls?” Frank finally let go, pushing away John’s hand. “I got an uncle who lives in Gladly Falls. Do you know the Thompsons? Edward Thompson?”
John hesitated. “Edward Thompson?” His fist went to his chin. “No, can’t say that I know the name.”
“That’s hard to believe,” Frank said, and now his voice was challenging. “Everybody knows my uncle. He’s practically the mayor of Gladly Falls.”
“If he’s practically the mayor, that would mean he’s not actually the mayor,” John said.
“What are you saying?” Frank’s face reddened as he pointed at John. “Are you saying I’m a liar?”
“Now, now, I’m sure that’s not what he’s saying,” their father said mildly. “There will be no arguing on my front porch, Frank. John has only just arrived. We want him to feel welcome.”
“He started it.” Frank’s gaze went straight to John, his eyes narrowing. Seeing him like this gave Pearl a little bit of a thrill. How could Alice not be impressed by a man who could become so impassioned so quickly? Their own father never raised his voice and seldom showed much emotion at all. How refreshing to see such a dramatic show of feeling.
Alice rested her fingertips on John’s forearm. “Mr. Lawrence, would you mind helping me drain the cast-iron skillets into the grease pot? They’re very heavy.”
“Of course, I’d be happy to help, but please call me John.” He looked to Mr. Bennett for approval and, upon getting a nod, followed Alice through the front door, followed by Daisy and the rest of the sisters. Only there a day, and already the younger girls were all agog. Pearl stayed on the porch next to her father, knowing that Frank would be sure to get in the last word.
When Frank opened his mouth again, the words came in an angry burst. “You know I offered to work at the mill while Wendall was out. You didn’t have to bring some stranger into your house. I told you I’d do it.”
He’s spitting mad, Pearl thought, taking a step back. She’d often heard that expression but never fully understood what it meant. Until now. Rancor radiated off Frank in waves; it was palpable, and it struck her as exciting, like being close to a bear or a bobcat, dangerous in general, but safe in the knowledge she wasn’t the one being targeted.
If her father was afraid, he didn’t show it. “Frank, I know you offered, and I appreciate the thought, but I talked to your father, and he said he couldn’t spare you what with his lumbago acting up and your ma feeling poorly. John needed the work and is willing to sleep in the barn. It’s a fair deal all around.”
“You could’ve told me before you hired someone else.”
“I felt no need to consult you, young Frank. I’ve been making decisions on my own for a long time. Now I think it’s time to bid you a good evening. Thank you for the visit.”
Frank’s eyes widened. He looked just about to say something but seemed to think better of it. “Good night, sir.” He put his hat back on his head and bounded down the steps to his automobile. Opening the door, he said, “Pearl, you tell Alice I’ll be watching for her on Saturday.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
1916
In the barn that night, John was nearly asleep when he heard the barn door open and close. One of the horses whinnied, but none of the animals seemed alarmed. Whoever it was moved stealthily, their footsteps distinct but quiet. He rubbed his eyes, watching through the hanging fabric as the glow of a flame moved closer. The person who’d entered knew the layout of the barn, moving deftly around the horse and cow stalls. Who could it be? Mr. Bennett checking on his stock? Or maybe Frank, wanting to beat him to a pulp? The second was a distinct possibility.
John stood quietly, hearing whoever it was draw closer. His mattress was in one corner of the barn, the space cordoned off by two sheets hanging from lengths of rope. A rather ingenious way to create a private area. Alice had thought of it, according to her father. She had also sewn the cover for the horsehair mattress and made a pillow for him. All the comforts of home.