The River Widow(16)
Jesse bellowed with laughter.
After that, the voices at the table were like whispers from far away. Shocked, Adah became deaf. It was one thing to have heard from others how unethically the Branches conducted their lives, but it was another thing to have to bear witness to it in person.
Would she now be seen as one of them? Or had it always been this way? Had she been seen as theirs from the moment she married Lester? Adah remembered trying to befriend some of the farmwives who lived nearby. The women had been civil but never warm, and nothing had ever developed. Adah dropped her hand into her lap and grabbed her skirt, bunching it into a ball. People were too smart to get close to a Branch.
Paying them some wary deference seemed to be the status quo. Later that night Buck said he’d been asked to be a part of a February 19 Paducah town meeting to discuss the possible construction of a floodwall. He had no expertise in construction or engineering, so Adah concluded that he’d been asked out of respect for his family history in the area and because one of his sons had apparently perished in its waters. By then three bodies had been found, one man having fallen out of a boat and two others discovered in the kitchen of their three-room house. More were sure to come.
From then onward Adah lost herself in her daily chores and playtime with Daisy, deciding that raising her with a sense of fairness and kindness was the best thing she could do to counter the Branches’ lack of character. That was the only thing she could do now, until she came up with a plan for them to live elsewhere.
As both February and the floodwaters receded at an agonizingly slow pace, the Branch men had to continue to prepare for the next season’s crops, some of the time allowing Adah to help. As bad as it was to exist in the same space as the men (Mabel’s company was little better), the fields provided fresh air for both Adah and Daisy. Especially since the family hadn’t left the farm yet except to attend makeshift church services.
Outside, Adah could breathe. On the porch, as she stretched her back, she looked out to the dawn—its blossoming colors of blue and salmon and silver; its cool, crisp air that spoke of new beginnings. Pulling her coat closer, she exhaled a long frosty breath as if she were releasing demons, and she allowed herself to briefly relish the glory of a rising sun over the hazy fields. Those moments provided only a brief reprieve from the torment of her entrapment, however, and each day she awoke with renewed purpose, racking her brain for a way out.
The day the Harper boy, Ben, came to deliver the new tractor, Adah lingered outside in hopes of saying something to the man, who was young, still baby faced, and had dressed well for the occasion in a suit. He had the wide-eyed look of someone whose life loomed ahead as full and sweet as June days to come, and it wrenched Adah’s heart to observe his obvious excitement. Even his hands looked fresh and innocent. Ben Harper had no idea he was soon to receive a swipe from Buck Branch’s poisonous claws.
Adah longed to whisper to him, Don’t do this. Buck won’t buy no matter what , but there was never an opportunity, and when Ben Harper left, all smiles, she was left with a sadness she couldn’t suppress.
Only two kindly women had come by to deliver condolence casseroles, and one lady, once she learned the flood had left Daisy and Adah with nothing, came back with some hand-me-down clothing and shoes she had packed inside an old and faded needlepoint bag. She looked friendly but declined Adah’s invitation to come inside.
“Thank you so very much,” Adah said as she opened the top of the bag and glanced inside, where she could see a flowered housedress, some walking oxford shoes, and more things underneath. “I’ll take the clothes upstairs and bring the bag back down to you.”
“No, of course not, honey. You go on and keep the bag, too.”
Adah held it close. Any small possession was now a precious thing. “But it’s so nice.”
“It was a donation, came in. Some folks’ trash is another man’s treasure, or some such. And I couldn’t think of anyone who needed something nice as much as you.”
“Thank you.” Before the woman left, Adah asked her, “Do you know Chuck Lerner?”
The woman nodded, and Adah fetched the jacket, which she had laundered, ironed, and folded. “Please return it to him with my deepest gratitude.”
“Will do.”
Adah whispered to the woman, “Do you think you could get ahold of a doll? Any ole doll would do.”
Flipping her coat collar up against the wind, the woman looked hesitant but eventually said, “For the girl, yes. I’ll try my best.” She turned to leave, then swiveled back, giving Adah a strange stare, one of pure sizing up. “You’re not like them, are you?”
Adah only gulped, afraid to answer but grateful for the woman’s words. She had the feeling that Father Sparrow’s spirit had guided the woman to her. With an aching chest, she thanked him in her heart. She also thanked her hardworking parents, who had taught her right from wrong.
The woman gazed down at the jacket she held in her hands. “Nice job on the jacket, by the way.”
One day Adah found Mabel in her favorite parlor chair, knitting. Gathering her strength, she said with determination, “Mabel, may I have a moment of your time?”
Mabel looked up and waited.
“Daisy needs new shoes. She’s outgrown the pair she’s been wearing. I was thinking I’d borrow the truck or the car and go to town.”