Whisper Town Page 2

  Deputy Maynard bellyed up to the remnants of pie salvaged for him by the ladies’ food committee. “Don’t you look the scarecrow?” Maynard laughed.

  “Spare me the compliments,” said Jeb. “Any coffee left, Josie?”

  The families gathered up their children and headed back toward their trucks and wagons.

  “Sorry I missed the festivities, Reverend. We got us a for-real investigation up at Apple Valley.”

  “I was hoping it was just gossip.”

  “Nazareth hasn’t seen this kind of business since, well, since your arrest. Hey, what’s past is past, I always say.”

  “The apple pickers told it right, then?” asked Jeb.

  “Best as I can figure, someone come to some harm out in those orchards, but who it was is yet to be known. Nobody’s filed a missing person on anyone. But we got a shirt that says that somebody took a beating. What’s become of him is anybody’s guess.” He turned and told Florence what good pie she made.

  Maynard said, “Don’t like the sound of bloody-shirt stories, nosirree, nosir! Makes folks nervous. Seems to me like everyone’s too scared to know what to make of it, or to talk about it.”

  “You saw the bloodied shirt, Maynard?”

  “Got it locked up in the jailhouse.”

  “Anyone missing from around town?” asked Jeb.

  “Not that anyone has reported. Or no one wants to fess up. Say, where’s your schoolteacher gal pal?”

  “Her folks showed up tonight. You believe someone in Nazareth knows what happened down in the orchard?”

  “It’s the best guess for now. Florence, how about slicing me another piece of your apple crumb pie?”

  Jeb made an excuse and left the tent. The families congregated outside, laughing and talking about whose kids were going without shoes. Not a person from Church in the Dell could possibly know about a beating down in the orchard, not without blabbing it to everyone.

  He said his good-nights to the departing families and gathered up the Welby brood.

  The moon had disappeared entirely, overtaken by the evening clouds. He led the children around to the parsonage by the light of the lantern.

  “Tonight was like heaven!” said Angel. “Not one, but two boys like me. Both of them gave me a ring.” She slid the rings up and down the chain around her neck.

  “You ought to at least pick one.” Jeb cupped his hand behind Ida May’s head, moving her ahead of him on the path.

  “More fun this way. You get more stuff and all anyway.”

  “It’s not about how much stuff you can get out of a boy, Angel,” said Jeb.

  “I’ll give one of the rings back after I decide which one I like the best,” said Angel.

  “It’s not like picking out a new dress. A body has to study the situation, keep an eye on the person, and see how they treat you.”

  “If that’s true, you ought to stop trying to win Miss Coulter over then. She treats you like an old shoe.”

  “Fern is a complicated woman. Jewelry and flowers and such don’t mean a thing to her. She wants to know more important things, like what a body’s been reading or how much of your time do you give in helping out a neighbor in need.”

  “Every woman likes flowers and jewelry, I don’t care what she tells you. She’s still a girl and girls like to be given stuff. Men who don’t know that are up the creek, far as I’m concerned.”

  Willie told Jeb, “I like Miss Coulter. She knows how to hunt and fish and I never see her walking around bragging about who give her what. I think you’re wrong, Angel.”

  “Neither of you know nothing about women.” Angel dropped the chain into her blouse.

  “Dub, how come Miss Coulter thinks you’re an old shoe?” asked Ida May.

  “Fern can hunt and fish? Who told you that, Willie Boy?” asked Jeb.

  “She tells it to her class. When some of the boys are having trouble with math, she uses her fishing line and asks things like, ‘If Willie’s trout is ten yards from him but is swimming a foot every five seconds, how far will he have to throw his line to reach that trout in fifteen seconds?’”

  “Fern never said she fished,” said Jeb.

  Angel blew out a breath. “That don’t mean nothing. Miss Coulter was raised with boys.” She said it like Fern had been raised with wolves.

  “Fern’s not average. But she takes a long time to get to know.” He figured Fern had a reason for never bringing it up. “You take this whole fishing-and-hunting matter. Not once has she told me that she does either one. Leastways, not that I can recall. She’s never shown up in the deer woods, has she? I’ll grant you, she doesn’t brag about all of her abilities. She’s uncommon.”

  “News flash, Jeb Nubey. She doesn’t tell who she doesn’t like,” said Angel.

  “She made Bobby Gray give up his hunting rifle once when he brought it to school.” Willie directed his comments to Jeb. “But then she opened the barrel and told him he should clean his gun. After school she give it back to him and showed him how to carry it.”

  A gun blast reverberated, tree to tree, through Millwood Hollow.

  Ida May latched onto Jeb’s arm.

  “Someone’s out hunting possums, Littlest,” said Jeb.

  The ratchet of toads boomed out of the woods, but no other identifiable sound.

  “Let’s get inside,” said Jeb. “Some fool teenager out there might mistake us for night prey and I don’t want to be his next kill.”

  “I don’t believe no stories about the apple orchards,” said Willie. “People tell lies all the time.”

  Ida May asked what stories. Angel guided her around the church and onto the parsonage lawn. The Welbys made for the porch. Jeb locked them all inside for the night, checking out the window twice. He shut off the lights.

  A rumor gave no man cause to waste good electricity.

  2

  YELLOW-WHITE LIGHTS MOVED THROUGH THE marsh at the edge of White Oak Lake, boys out frog gigging most likely. The lights undulated in the fog that stretched all the way down the stream that emptied out beneath the bridge at Marvelous Crossing. A torchlight moved down the stream and into the woods.

  A bird called out in the night, a trilling song that made the darkness easeful. A goose flapped down, landing on the stream’s shore, followed by tufted goslings that pursued the mother into the shadows.

  Stillness eventually blanketed the woods and Jeb closed the window shades, satisfied that peace prevailed in spite of women’s rumors.

  Jeb stared at the ceiling from his bed until the soft yellow of lunar light trickling through his window allowed his eyes to adjust. He felt startled awake, as though someone had shaken him out of his slumber. But he heard nothing outside that would justify such a thing. An owl hooted and then fluttered off its limb to chase dinner. Jeb’s eyes closed slowly. Then he heard a noise, like something soft and padding quietly through dewed-over grass. He bolted upright. Stumbling across the floor, he thrust one leg into his trousers and then the other. The children slept. He crept so as not to bring them spilling out into the hallway. Halfway up the hallway and out of his stupor, he mulled over the fact that he had not grabbed his hunting rifle. He stopped at the edge of the parlor entry and peered across the room. Only a tree limb shadowed the front window.

  Jeb threw on the light switch, illuminating the naked bulb outside near the door. The churchyard was nothing but evening shadows. He reached for the table lamp, but his hand froze over the lampshade.

  A cry came loud, harsh.

  Jeb threw open the door. He took one step and his toe bumped against a basket. He knelt and pulled back a jumble of cloths. He fell backward and then came seated on the door’s threshold, assessing the matter before him, a child—an undersized baby, it seemed—lying in a laundry basket. He dragged the basket inside, out of the chill.

  The baby wailed again, its eyes squeezing out tears like a ripe lemon. Jeb lifted the child from the basket, handling it awkwardly, the same as when he’d pulled a bass from W
hite Oak Lake last Saturday.

  He came to his feet, holding out the squirming bundle as though it might bite him, and looked through the door glass, hoping to see movement in the woods or a lantern light. All was still and quiet as though the night hardened like iron in the cooling shadows.

  Jeb held the baby close, pulled out the waist of the diaper, and said, “She’s a girl.” He studied her round eyes, full lips. Her skin was soft like peaches but tawny and her eyes stared out like two of Willie’s prize marbles.

  “What’s going on?” Angel appeared in the doorway, her thin legs showing through her translucent cotton gown.

  The baby girl threw back her head and cried again. Jeb held her out to Angel.

  “Where’d you get a baby this time of night?” Angel stretched out her arms and yawned like a boy, ignoring the outstretched bundle. She even kept back a ways, creating some distance.

  “Someone left her out on the porch. Look through the basket, Angel, and see if she’s got a bottle tucked in her things.”

  Angel rummaged through layers of blankets. She pulled out a note. “It says, ‘We heard you was a preacher who takes in kids. Baby’s name is Myrtle Sapphira.’” Angel’s eyes lifted to study Jeb’s reaction, almost like she half-expected him to say it was all a big middle-of-the-night joke. She continued reading the note. “‘We give you all the things for her care. She was born recent.’”

  “And, of course, they didn’t sign it,” said Jeb.

  Angel shook her head. “Here’s her bottle.” She held it out to him by the nipple. “She don’t look like a Myrtle. More like a June bug thrown on its back. Good night.”

  Jeb did not want the bottle. “Maybe you should give it to her.” He tried to surrender Myrtle to Angel, but Angel kept her arms folded in front of her.

  “Just hold her close to you in your right arm. Feed her with the left.” She stuck the baby’s bottle in the crook of his arm. “I’m going back to bed.”

  “You’re not leaving me alone with this baby!” said Jeb.

  “She ain’t mine to care for.”

  “Babies don’t like me, Angel. Maybe if you made her a bed next to you—”

  “Note says you’re the preacher who takes in kids. June Bug, meet your new daddy.” Angel waltzed out of the room.

  Her laugh irked Jeb. “This is a big sin, leaving a newborn with the likes of me.”

  She stonewalled Jeb, slamming the palm of her hand against the framing. “I’m not taking care of another kid, Jeb!”

  “We’ll find a home for it in the morning.”

  “You better search down around Tempest’s Bog then.”

  “Why there?”

  “She’s a Nigra baby.”

  “Nigra?” He stared at her round face and pulled back the blanket to see the black-as-coal curls around her temple. “Angel, I’ve got to get some sleep. I’m meeting the deacon board early and then I’ve got to get my Wednesday sermon ready.” And then he had planned to be at the school by noon to see if Fern might join him for lunch.

  “I’ve got a history test first thing, Jeb. I flunked the first one and can’t mess up again.”

  “Stay home, then. It’ll give you an extra day to study. I’ll vouch for you with your teacher and you can take it the next day.”

  “Don’t want no extra day. I’m going to bed now.” She disappeared down the hallway.

  Myrtle nuzzled Jeb’s shirt pocket, searching for a latching-on place. Jeb tapped her bottom lip with the bottle’s nipple and her lips parted like a baby bass. He slumped down on the sofa to feed a stranger’s baby and to think up what he might tell one of the churchwomen to get them to take on one more mouth to feed. It was ten past midnight.

  The sun came early. Myrtle had slept for a few hours at a stretch and then awoke for another feeding. When Jeb’s eyes opened, his head was propped against the hard sofa arm with the baby girl asleep on his stomach.

  Ida May and Willie stood next to the sofa, waiting for Jeb’s eyes to come open.

  “Can we keep her, Jeb? She’s a little dumpling, ain’t she?” said Ida May.

  “That’s all we need around here, another girl.” Willie grumbled and munched on hard warmed-up bread.

  “Angel says someone left her on the porch.” Ida May fingered the blanket around the baby’s head. “They must have been bad off like our daddy or something to just drop off a whole baby like that.”

  “What does she eat?” asked Willie. “She don’t look like she’s got a good set of teeth yet.”

  Jeb held his finger to his lips. “She just fell asleep again. Hush and go finish your breakfast.” He had a headache and his chest was damp with spit-up.

  Myrtle lifted her head. Her eyelids fluttered and she gazed out at them.

  “Since she’s awake, let me hold her, Dub,” said Ida May.

  He sighed and slid his thumbs under her tiny chest.

  Ida May flopped the baby over into her arms.

  “Can’t hold babies like a rag doll,” said Jeb.

  “You ought to take her to the doctor, make sure she’s well.” Angel entered the room, dressed for school and holding her books.

  “Aren’t you full of advice?” Jeb sat up. He was still dressed in his work clothes from yesterday. “Lot of good you do me now.”

  “Willie, Ida May, go and get your books. I have to head for school.” Angel sent them off to the bedroom.

  “I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay home and play with Myrtle,” said Ida May. She whined all the way down the hall.

  “She’s kind of runty, ain’t she?” asked Willie.

  “Taking this baby to the doctor’s a good idea. Maybe he’s met the mother, knows how I might find some family members out there who lay claim to this girl baby. Angel, sure you don’t want to come along, help me with holding her and all?”

  “Jeb, I have to make a good grade on this test or I’m in hot water with Mrs. Farnsworth.”

  Jeb sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”

  “You changed her, didn’t you?” Angel stared at him as though she looked a fool in the eye. “I can’t believe you left this baby all night in a dirty diaper. She’ll get the rash, Jeb. You have to change her now.”

  “I never had no call to change a baby, Angel, you know that. It wouldn’t hurt you none to grab a diaper out of that basket and help me out. At least give me the lowdown on how it’s done.”

  Angel sighed. She set her books on the floor and retrieved a diaper. “Lay her on the sofa then.” She opened the diaper and then grimaced.

  Jeb turned to leave.

  “Jeb, go and fetch a clean, wet washcloth. Maybe two, while you’re at it.”

  Jeb ran into the kitchen and found a stack of clean linens, where Angel had stacked them on the kitchen table. He ran with one to the sink, wet it, wrung it out, and then hotfooted it back into the parlor.

  “Now check her things and see if you can find a jar of ointment. She’s going to need it.”

  Jeb dug through the basket. “I don’t see any.”

  “Run fetch a jar from the kitchen then. It’s in the cabinet where I keep the iodine.”

  “We’re ready to leave,” said Willie.

  “Give your sister a minute, Willie.” Jeb ran back into the kitchen to the pantry.

  “Jeb, I can’t be late!” Angel yelled.

  Jeb knocked over a can of baking powder. He grabbed a box of cornstarch and then saw the ointment in the back of the cabinet.

  Angel held out Myrtle’s legs by the toes.

  “I’m waiting out on the porch,” said Willie. “Man can only take so much.”

  “Is this the stuff?” Jeb asked Angel.

  Angel said, “That’s a good idea. I forgot about using cornstarch.”

  Jeb glanced down and saw that he still held the cornstarch box in his left hand. “My grandma’s old remedy,” he lied. He couldn’t remember back that far.

  “June Bug’s got a rash. That cornstarch should help it dry up.” Angel finish
ed up using ointment on Myrtle’s red places and closed the diaper. “She’s all yours.” She grabbed her books and ushered Willie and Ida May out the door. Before closing the door, she said, “You’ll do fine, Jeb. Just get her off to the doctor and he’ll know what to do. Surely you can handle that.”

  Jeb looked down at the baby, who made sucking breaths as she wound up for another long wail. Her bottle was empty and Angel had left the soiled diaper on the rug. He ran to the door. “Angel, wait! I don’t know what to feed her.”

  Angel climbed into the Ford of a friend. Willie and Ida May climbed in behind her talking their heads off. Angel waved at Jeb before they drove away.

  Myrtle’s cry took every bit of starch out of Jeb’s morning plans. He checked his watch. The deacon’s meeting had commenced ten minutes ago.

  Jeb had not carried around that feeling of being the town underdog for quite some time, but the feeling he got hauling around this baby did test a man’s spirit. He had to change clothes once before ever having left the parsonage, and then just as he tiptoed through the church entrance with his large basket of baby, she awoke and let out the most awful scream.

  Will Honeysack looked up from his chair, startled to see the Church in the Dell preacher carrying what looked like a load of laundry. “Morning, Reverend. We been waiting for you.”

  “Fellers, I got a dilemma. Look what someone left for me last night.”

  The deacons inspected the basket.

  “Lord-a-mercy, Parson!” said Arnell Ketcherside. His chair almost tipped backward. “What you going to do?”

  “I was hoping one of you boys would tell me.” Jeb looked at Sam Patton. “You think your wife might take her in? Greta’s been wanting a girl, what with the last two of yours being male.”

  “Reverend, this baby’s a Nigra baby. You sure someone ain’t pulling your leg?” asked Arnell.

  “I’m afraid I couldn’t oblige,” said Sam. “Greta’s still got one on the breast and the boy ain’t even started school. She’s about half out of her mind, as it is.”