Fireflies In December Part 17

"I don't want you callin' the sheriff on this. I don't want the law brought in."

"Ain't got no choice, Jessilyn," Luke argued. "There's no reasonin' with a man like Walt. That boy should rot in jail."

"But he won't," I countered. "We've already seen that in Walt's trial over in Coopersville. He ain't gonna pay, and I don't want to stir him up by gettin' the law on him."

"Ain't no man gonna get away with hara.s.sin' my girl," Daddy argued. "I tell you, he ain't gettin' away with it."

"Daddy, no sheriff! I don't want it!" I was desperate to convince him, and my shaking voice showed it.

Momma came over to me and put her hands on my shoulders. She calmly said, "Jessilyn ain't no girl no more, Harley. She's got a right to have a say."

Daddy paced the faded spot he'd worn on the rug through the years. He'd paced it a lot this summer. Then he stopped and looked at me determinedly. "I'm tellin' Otis. Bein' a deputy, he can keep an extra eye on things. We won't take it any further than that . . . for now."

Luke slapped his hat against his leg. "It ain't right, Mr. La.s.siter. It ain't right for him to get away with this."

"But it's what I want," I retorted.

"Don't mean you're right."

"As I see it, you ain't got any say, anyhow."

"Now listen here," Luke said, leaning down so his face was closer to mine. "As far as I'm concerned, if I've gotta follow you around lookin' after you, I ought to have some say."

I stomped a foot against the splintered wooden floor. "No one made you follow me around. My daddy ain't payin' you to be no bodyguard."

That's when Daddy stepped between the two of us, a surprising smile gracing his face. "All right, that's enough now. If you two don't beat all . . ."

"But, Daddy, he thinks he can tell me what to do all the time," I cried.

"You want me to leave you alone," Luke said, "then fine. I'll leave you good and alone."

"Fine!"

"I said that's enough," Daddy warned. "Last I checked, this is still my house, so when I say that's enough, then that's enough."

In the end, Luke scowled his way out the door, and Daddy went to call Otis Tinker.

Momma was wringing her hands, but instead of talking about the whole thing any further, she just ran her hand softly over my hair. "What'd you get all fancied up for?" she asked with a grin. "You look all tidied up. Like a present under the Christmas tree."

"Miss Cleta did it," I murmured, looking down at my dress.

Momma walked around me a couple times and nodded. "Sure enough, you look right nice. Now, don't you feel good bein' in girl stuff?"

In truth, I liked feeling grown-up, but I didn't want to act too much like Momma had been right for pus.h.i.+ng me to wear dresses. I just said, "It's okay, I guess."

"Okay! It's lovely! You know, I could fix you up a couple new dresses in no time flat," she told me excitedly. "I've got some nice cloth upstairs, and we could fix somethin' that don't have any of those little girl bows at the waist and things, you know?"

By this time, Momma was measuring me with an invisible measuring tape, likely conjuring up all sorts of ideas in her dressmaking mind, but I didn't want her going overboard. "I didn't say I wanted to start wearin' dresses all the time, Momma."

"Well, no one said you did. But if you start wearin' them more, you're gonna need some. Besides, your dresses are for a girl, not a young lady." Momma tapped her chin a few times and then said, "I'm gonna go dig out that cloth and see if it's still fit for sewin'."

My heart was heavy as I watched her go. The events of the day had frightened me more than I'd admitted to anyone, and keeping the secret of Walt's advances made me feel more alone than I ever had. But I couldn't tell anyone. I didn't want them all hovering over me, keeping me locked in like a hostage. I'd already lost enough of my freedom as it was.

Chapter 15.

I wasn't sleeping much at night. I was living in a nightmare where things seemed about as bad as they could be, and waking up in the morning didn't make them any better. The rising of the sun didn't erase my fears that I was a murderer, and I was plagued by guilt every minute. I walked around bleary-eyed and short-tempered, my nerves on edge. Dark patches underlined my eyes, my skin was pale even with my summer tan, and I walked at a snail's pace. At first I didn't care a bit. But after having Luke, Momma, Gemma, and Miss Cleta all ask me why I looked a sight, I decided I'd best fix up, even if it was just to keep them from bothering me.

When Gemma found me primping in front of the bathroom mirror, she looked at me like I was crazy. But then, she always looked at me like that. "Are you puttin' curls in your hair?" she asked me. I tried to kick the door shut, but she put her weight into it. "What in tarnation are you doin'? You fixin' to go courtin' or somethin'? You know your daddy ain't lettin' you court yet." She kept talking without giving me a chance to say anything. "And I hope you ain't thinkin' of Luke, 'cause he's too old for you, plain and simple. Your daddy'd kill him if he acted sweet on you."

"Would you shut up?" I finally snapped. "I ain't doin' nothin' but puttin' curls in my hair. There a law that says a girl can't put curls in her hair just 'cause she feels like it?"

Gemma put her hands on her hips and studied my face in the mirror. "Well, if you're gonna do it at all, you ought to do it right. Here," she said, grabbing Momma's hot iron from me. "You're gettin' the curls all uneven."

Gemma fixed my hair better than I ever could have, and I headed down the hall with a confident smile on my face, the first real smile I'd worn in days. I popped into Momma and Daddy's bedroom and went to Momma's dressing table to finger some of the little bottles and pots that rested there. By the time I left the room, I smelled like lavender and had glossy lips. I figured Momma wouldn't mind since she'd been after me for years to be more of a girl.

It was Daddy who noticed first, though. He was resting comfortably in his chair, and all I could see of him were his legs and the wisps of pipe smoke that floated up from behind a wrinkled newspaper. Shortly after I walked into the room, I saw his left hand go behind the paper and come out with the pipe in it. Then Daddy sniffed the air. "You plannin' on goin' somewheres, Sadie?"

I knew what he was thinking, but I played innocent. "What, Daddy?"

He pulled the paper down so he could see over it. " Jessilyn?"he asked oddly. "Thought you was your momma."

"Why's that?"

Daddy shrugged. "Thought I smelled her. She always smells nice when she's goin' out."

"Don't I ever smell nice?"

"Not as I can recall."

"Daddy!"

He furrowed his brow at me and took a quick puff on his pipe. "Now don't go gettin' your feelin's hurt, Jessilyn. I didn't mean nothin' by it. It's just you never wear no scents."

I folded my arms tightly and said, "So that means I smell bad?"

Momma walked in, and Daddy looked at her pleadingly. "Sadie, would you help me out here?"

"What on earth is goin' on?"

"Daddy thinks I smell bad," I declared.

"Harley," Momma said softly, drawing his name out long, "why would you . . . ?"

"I didn't! I just thought I smelled you come into the room, with your perfume and all, and it turned out to be Jessilyn."

"So he figured it couldn't be me, because I don't never smell good!"

"Harley, you've no call to make fun of her." Momma took me by the shoulders and put her face in my hair. "You smell sweet as a daisy, Jessilyn. And look at your pretty hair. Did Gemma do it for you?"

"Yes'm."

"Well, I declare, it's pretty as a picture." She looked disapprovingly at Daddy. "Ain't no call to be teasin' a pretty young lady."

"I didn't . . ." But Daddy stopped himself from talking at all, likely a.s.suming he was safer that way, and slumped behind his newspaper, mumbling something I couldn't hear.

"I was gonna ask you to come and help fix supper," Momma commented to me. "But I don't want you gettin' your pretty dress spotted with potato peel."

"Oh, I can do it," I said. "Ain't got no one to impress round here anyways."

I heard Daddy sigh from behind the paper.

"I was just experimentin'," I said as I followed Momma to the kitchen.

"Every girl's gotta do a little of that." Momma started tapping her foot to a tune she had in her head, humming lightly. "I probably got some leftover scent upstairs. You know how your daddy likes that lavender one, so it's the only one I use these days. You can have the others."

"That'd be nice." I tied a towel around my waist and started cutting the peel off a potato in one long circular strip. "Momma?"

"Hmm?"

"Got school startin' up soon."

"I know. These summers . . . they fly by so fast anymore. I can't keep track."

"Could be different this year."

"What? School? Well, I imagine it will be, with you movin' up into another cla.s.s and all. That's just the size of it, though, this growin'-up time. You got lots of changes in store for you."

"Yes'm, but that ain't what I'm talkin' about." I cleared my throat and looked around to make sure Gemma wasn't nearby before I quietly said, "I'm talkin' about it bein' different with the other kids, with all our trouble we've had round here of late."

Momma gazed out the window, staring hard at nothing. "Oh, I been thinkin' 'bout that," she said, and I could hear in her voice that she was trying to pretend it was no big deal. "I'm sure things will be just fine. You know how people get. They get all fired up over somethin' till they're bored with it, and then after a while they find somethin' else to squawk about. Come schooltime, I'm sure it'll be old news."

I didn't rightly agree with that, seeing as how school started in just under two weeks, but I pretended to believe the same words she pretended to believe. I suppose we both decided it was better to pretend a little while since the truth would be found out on my first day at school anyway. Why bother suffering before as well as during?

To change the subject, Momma went over to the icebox and pulled out some ham salad. "Why don't you run off to Jeb before he leaves and see if he'd like to take this salad with him. That poor man's so skinny, I swear he don't eat nights."

Jeb was working in the upper fields today, so I took the gravel path in his direction, careful to keep my skirt from catching on any of the wild bushes that grew alongside it. I saw Lucky curled up under a low evergreen and clucked my tongue at him. "Come on with me, boy. You don't need to be lazin' around all day."

He stood slowly and stretched his legs before following me with short, rapid steps. I squinted into the dipping sun and put a hand over my eyes like an awning, hoping to spot Jeb. I could fairly make out his form in the distance, but he didn't look like anything more than a shadow with the bright sun at his back.

I spotted another dark form across from him, and I stopped myself from calling out until I determined who it was he was talking to. I slowed my pace, but Lucky kept going, so I hurried after him and scooped him up with my free hand. "Wait a minute, boy," I whispered.

I didn't know why I was so cautious. I guessed that Luke's worrying had started to get to me, but in the end it really came down to the fact that recent events had put my nerves on their very edges. I was anxious about everything, and the dark form with Jeb was no exception. I had never seen Jeb talking to anyone but the other fieldhands since he'd come to work for us, and I was sure that the other hands had already left for the day.

The only way for me to get a real glimpse was to get around to the other side of the field where the sun wouldn't be in my eyes, so I started around the perimeter, ducking behind bushes and short trees. Once I reached the big oak where Gemma and I carved a record of our heights every summer, I put Lucky down and lifted myself onto the high, gnarled root to get a better look.

But as quickly as I found out who Jeb was talking to, I wished I hadn't.

Walt Blevins looked as messy and unshaven as he always did, his dirty, floppy hat tipped back from his forehead.

I could see right off that Jeb's face was expressionless like it always was. "You better just lay off," Jeb told Walt. "You want to go makin' people suspicious?"

Walt laughed slyly. "You think there's a body in this town that ain't suspicious of me? Ain't nothin' I can do to make myself more suspicious than I already is."

"Maybe, but you start messin' round with a little girl, and people'll set on you quicker'n a wink."

"I'm just playin' with her mind. Givin' her a good scare is all. I ain't gonna do nothin' to her."

I could see Jeb didn't believe his words any more than I did. Walt meant to hurt me. That was plain for anyone to see.

"All the same," Jeb replied, "I say leave her alone. You ain't got no call to go messin' with her, and if you don't keep your hands off her, I'll set on you, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Walt said with facetious respect. "Anythin' else, sir sir?"

"You just stop doin' things that'll interfere with our plans. I ain't worked this hard and long to have you mess it all up."

Walt didn't say another word. He stared at Jeb for a few seconds, and then he tipped his hat at him with a smirk and trudged off through the trees.

I sank down behind the oak, my head swimming. Luke had been right. Jeb was not to be trusted. He had plans for us, I could see now. That must have been why he came to us for work. He was here to watch us. I was starting to feel weak and shaky, my lips going numb. I was beginning to wonder about everyone in my life. I didn't know who I could trust, and that made me certain that I couldn't tell anyone about anything. I was alone in this trouble, and I was determined to find out for myself exactly what Jeb's plans were.

For starters, though, I was well aware that I would have to give that ham salad to Jeb, or Momma would find out he never got it and start asking me questions. I gave myself about five more minutes, and then I made my way back around to the gravel path and approached Jeb like I'd just wandered up. "Hey there," I tried to say matter-of-factly, but I could tell my voice was tight and strained. "Momma wanted me to bring you this ham salad."

"Well, don't that sound nice." He wiped his hands on his dirty britches before taking the bowl from me. "Your momma's the best cook in the county, you ask me."

"She's right fine." I turned my back to him and started toward the house, nearly tripping over Lucky. I yanked him up quickly and hollered, "See ya later, Jeb."

"Miss Jessie?" he called. "You all right?"

I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him for a few seconds. "I'm okay. Gotta help Momma in the kitchen is all." I headed home in what was more a run than a walk, and by the time I reached the back door, my s.h.i.+ns were tight and sore.

At supper that night, I was particularly quiet and solemn. A few times I noticed Momma and Daddy glancing at each other in confusion, but I didn't say a word to them about Jeb.

When we had gone to bed, I asked Gemma about him without letting her know what I'd overheard. "You like Jeb?"

She rolled over on her bed and looked at me sleepily. "Sure, I like Jeb. Don't you?"

I didn't answer her. I just said, "Luke don't. He thinks he's suspicious."

Gemma snorted. "Luke's just worryin'. Jeb ain't done nothin' to him."

"Guess not."