WILD OATS (27 page)

"If you had any sense, you'd realize what this means."

"I know exactly what it means," he said, his voice now raised almost as loudly as her own.”It means Miss Maimie has got another way to push and prod and make you feel bad about , yourself. She doesn't really need a new way, of course. She's been managing to keep your confidence cut down to a nub for a good while now. And Miz Bruder, well, it's her husband's job to get sinners to repent. If they ain't no sinners around, well, I'd say he'd be pretty nigh worthless to the community. And as for Fanny Penny, I'm thinking it's high time that Titus took that wife of his in hand. She's been snubbing half the folks in this town. And those folks are the very ones buying her husband's goods and keeping her in beans and gravy." He crossed his arms obstinately. "That woman's got a right snippy, prideful attitude. I think that a one-by-four used with some precision on her backside would cure her of that affliction permanently."

"Of course," Amelia accused, flailing her hands in the air. "Beating would be your answer for everything!"

"Not everything," Haywood assured her. "But there's been more than one time when I've thought it might do you a world of good."

"How dare you!" Amelia rose to her feet with the obvious intention of slapping Puser's face. Haywood easily grasped her hands in his.

"Now don't go starting something you cain't finish, Mel-lie," he said. "I said I've thought of it. I'm sure we can both bear witness that I ain't never laid a hand to you in anger." Then with a wicked glance toward her, he added, "Though I have let it linger there for pleasure a time or two."

A furious "Oh!" escaped Amelia's lips but she was too upset to argue.

"Now Mellie, I'm sure that Miz Briggs ain't that bad. Even the preacher seems to be revising his opinion of her. Jedwin is a right smart fellow. He wouldn't love her if she was all that folks have said she is."

"You don't understand," she complained with more than a hint of anger in her voice. She dropped to the divan, burying her face in her handkerchief. "It makes no difference if she is a saint. I am losing my son."

"Oh Mellie, Mellie." Haywood chuckled as he shook his head, his mind searching for the right words, the right way to make her understand.

"This control you have on Jedwin," he began quietly. "This need to be a part of every aspect of life, Mellie, it's like a bad , tooth."

"What?"

"Do you remember your bad tooth?" he asked.

“Of course I do," Amelia snapped.”It bothered me forever. I was in constant pain."

"That's right," Haywood said. "But you didn't want me to pull that tooth."

"Well, of course not," Amelia answered, clearly puzzled. “Nobody wants the pain of having a tooth pulled. And nobody wants to lose any of their teeth. What does this have to do with James Edwin?"

"Mellie," he said. "I'm thinking that your need to run Jedwin's life, to be the most important person in the world to him, well Mellie, I'm thinking it's like that abscessed tooth."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean that part of your loving of Jedwin has gone rotten," he said. "You've hovered and bullied and managed for him until you've made a sore place in his heart."

"That's the most foolish thing I've ever heard." With a haughty jerk of her chin, Amelia moved to rise from the divan.

"It's the most truth you've heard in a long time, woman, so I'd suggest that you listen," he said. "You've been trying to smother that young man and keep him tied to your apron strings since long before I met you. It's a credit to Jedwin's character that he's managed to retain the gumption that he has. You would have turned him into a sniveling sissy lisping, 'yes mama, no mama' until his gray beard was dusting the floor."

"How can you say that? You know I love my son," Amelia insisted.

"Yes, Mellie, you do," Haywood agreed. "And if you want to keep him, you are going to have to let him go."

"What?"

"Trying to run his life is a bad tooth festering and causing you both pain. Pull that bad tooth, Mellie," he said. "Pull it now and get it over with. It will fall out one of these days anyway; you can't hold him forever."

He raised her chin and planted a tender, consoling kiss on her forehead. "We aren't perfect, Mellie," he said. "Nor is anything about us. Sometimes we have to give up a little of what we have in order to keep the rest of it. If you give Jedwin his life and his freedom, you will have a loving son for life." "Haywood," she whispered. "I'm so scared." He looked at her tear-brightened blue eyes for only a moment before he seated himself on the divan and wrapped his arms around her.

Chapter Twenty-one

"Excuse me!" Jedwin was shocked as he stood on the threshold of the family parlor and saw his mother on the divan kissing Haywood Puser.

"James Edwin!" Amelia screeched in horror. She tried to jump to her feet so quickly that she stumbled and landed very soundly on Haywood's lap.

"What is going on here, Haywood?" Jedwin was clearly puzzled by the unexpected scene.

Amelia righted herself and stood up in dishabille, but head held high, in the center of the room. Haywood rose to his feet, his face flushed. He cleared his throat with the intention of smoothing over the situation. Amelia, however, had other plans.

"Jedwin, I swear it is not what you think," she assured him with hastily gathered dignity. "My business with Mr. Puser is ... well, it is strictly business."

Jedwin's eyebrow was raised in amusement.
"Business?"
he asked. "Exactly what kind of business were you two planning?"

"Now Jedwin," Haywood began, clearly ready to defend the delicate honor of Mrs. Sparrow.

Amelia interrupted him. "James Edwin Sparrow," she snapped with fury born of discomfiture. "I am a grown woman and in my own home. If I choose to allow a gentleman to kiss me, it is no concern of yours."

Jedwin was slightly taken back. Shrewdly, he assessed the situation and kept the grin that itched at the corner of his mouth under control as he spoke to his mother in a calm and civilized manner.

"Mama, Mr. Puser is a friend of mine, as you know. And I have always liked him." Jedwin paused to send a chillingly calculated look toward the subject under discussion.

Again Puser opened his mouth to speak.

"You are probably not aware of this, Mama," Jedwin continued quietly. “But Haywood has a reputation with ladies. A reputation that I believe to be totally deserved." Jedwin cleared his throat primly. "My father has been dead for some time," he said. "And I can certainly understand that you might find some interest in another man. However, I will not allow him to do damage to your heart or your honor."

Amelia's nostrils flared in fury. "My heart and my honor, young man, are my own," she replied shrewishly. "I will do with them as I wish."

"But Mama—" Jedwin began.

“If I choose to entertain a gentleman in my parlor," she told him angrily, "then I will do so. It is
my
business and none of your own!" Amelia, standing hands on hips in the middle of the room, stamped her foot in such a way as to signal the onslaught of a tantrum.

To the total amazement of both Amelia and Haywood, this brought a guffaw of laughter from Jedwin Sparrow's throat.

Both started at the sound and turned to stare at young Jedwin in disbelief.

"What on earth is so funny?" Amelia questioned threateningly.

Her anger seem to tickle him even further. In all the years since his father had died, Amelia had shown absolutely no interest in love, or marriage, or even gentleman friends. Jedwin had worried that his forty-three-year-old mother may have thought she was far past all of that. Apparently he was wrong.

"Stop laughing!" Amelia was nearly beside herself.

Nearly choking, Jedwin held up a hand in surrender as he tried to contain his laughter. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he managed. "I swear, Mama, Haywood, I couldn't be happier. I've been wanting to see you two get together for years. Now, I walk in on you, prepared for another battle of wills on living my own life and I find that you've already begun to live yours."

Amelia swallowed her embarrassment and raised her chin in defiance. "Mr. Puser and I have become friends," she said. As if suddenly realizing the correlation her son had drawn, she hastily cast off any sense of similarity in their situations. "There is nothing sullied or illicit about our relationship," she stated haughtily.

Jedwin nodded. "I feel the same about myself and Mrs. Briggs, Mama. We love each other and there is nothing for me to be ashamed about in that."

She shook her head. "It is not the same."

"It
is
the same. But I don't think we should be surprised that we behave in the same manner. You did raise me to be the man that I am, to go after the things that I want, just as you have."

"I didn't raise you to create a scandal in this community," Amelia countered in a condemning whisper. "Mr. Puser and I have both been widowed and are free to seek a new association. Mrs. Briggs is
divorced;
clearly she should not be considered eligible for a fine young man like you."

"Scandals pretty much create themselves. Mama. I consider her very eligible and I'm the only one who needs to be concerned." Jedwin shook his head. "People who like to believe the worst, always will. I don't like to believe the worst. Not about Mrs. Briggs, not about you, not even about Hay-wood here." He glanced at the older man. "Mama, I probably know this fellow a bit better than you. I know that he's a sweet-talker to the ladies, a bit of a rounder, and he has led his share of lonely widows off the straight and narrow."

"Oh!" Amelia was mortified as she glanced over with sudden uncertainty at Haywood beside her. Determinedly, she sleeked back her disheveled hair and nervously wiped her damp palms on her skirt.

Jedwin ignored Haywood's glare. "That's what I know about him, Mama, and if I was one to believe the worst, I'd be busting his jaw right now. But I'm not about to hit him, 'cause I think the galloot is probably in love with you."

Haywood cleared his throat nervously and gave Jedwin a cautious look. "I'd best go to my cottage. I suspect you and Mellie got things to say to each other."

"No, stay. You are nearly family to me, Haywood. What I'm here to say is about family, about our family." Jedwin's expression was sober as he looked hopefully at his mother.

Amelia's stern demeanor seemed near collapse and Haywood instinctively took her hand.

"I want you two to be happy," he told them quietly. "Can't you try to want the same for me?"

Amelia raised her chin stubbornly as she pulled away from Haywood. Standing on her own, head high and shoulders straight, she looked through Jedwin as if she couldn't see him and refused to answer.

Her son waited a very long moment before sorrowfully, reluctantly, he nodded, accepting his mother's choice.

"I just came to pack up my clothes," he told Haywood with cordiality that didn't match the solemnity of his expression.

"You are moving in with her?" Amelia's voice was little above a whisper.

Jedwin looked into his mother's eyes and knew that the wonderful decisions he'd made in the last few days were going to hurt her deeply. "I'm moving out to the farm," he answered evenly. "Cora and I won't be living together until we are duly married."

"She is going to wed you then?" Haywood asked.

Jedwin nodded. "Yes, I think so."

"Soon?" his mother asked.

Jedwin shrugged. "I've spoken to Reverend Bruder. He was a little surprised, but I think he's wanning up to the idea. He'll come around." Jedwin paused wistfully, hoping that the same could be said for the woman in front of him. “I want you to be at my wedding, Mama."

An uncomfortable silence lingered in the parlor. It was not going to be easy, Jedwin thought. But nothing worth having ever was. Reluctantly, he took his leave.

"The mortuary belongs to you, Mama," Jedwin told them from the doorway. "I'm having a lawyer in Guthrie draw up the papers." With only a ghost of a smile, he warned Haywood, "She is really your boss now."

The cloying quiet of the parlor was made more so by the sound of Jedwin's step on the stair. Amelia's eyes dropped to the fine Turkish carpet at her feet as she bit her lip to hold back the tears that welled in her eyes. A painful sob filled her throat, but she held it back as stubbornly as she had any attempt at reconciliation. Her lips were trembling as she turned to Haywood.

"Hold me," she whispered.

And he did.

Jedwin found packing simple. The numerous dark, solemn suits that hung in his wardrobe were left right where they were. He had no intention of taking his funeral garb with him. He was 'a farmer now, he needed one good suit for Sunday and plenty of sturdy work clothes for the rest of his life.

His mood was mixed. Part joyful, part frightened for the unknown future ahead of him and the hurt he'd seen in his mother's eyes. Change was never easy. Whether it was the move from childhood to adulthood or from life to death, hopes were shattered, routines were disrupted, plans were reshaped and dreams were altered. But change was inevitable and important. The adult world made childhood a pleasured memory and death gave life value and urgency.

As Jedwin crammed the last of his work shirts into his gripsack, he heard the sound of wagon wheels coming down the street. It was not at all an unusual sound, but for some reason it captured his attention. With a modicum of interest he glanced out the window.

A well-kept fanner's wagon was slowly making its way toward the mortuary. It was driven by a young man wearing a brown flop hat; a younger boy sat stiffly by his side. It was only as they got closer that Jedwin noticed the long, covered length of a body in the back of the wagon.

Setting his gripsack by the door, Jedwin hurried down the stairs.

"We've got a body coming to the front door," he called toward the parlor as he made his way across the foyer. He heard movement behind him and knew that Haywood and his mother were following him.

He was waiting when the wagon stopped on the street, directly in front of the door. Haywood and Amelia hurried off the porch to join him.

The young man called a halt to the horses and set the brake. He could not have been a day over sixteen. He was a good-looking farm boy with thick black hair and exceptionally bright blue eyes. Something about the boy and those eyes struck Jedwin as familiar.

The younger boy was about eight, Jedwin speculated. He, too, had thick black hair, but his features were different. The high cheekbones and narrow eyes suggested an Indian heritage. The short hair and farmer's clothing suggested a white man's life. The young boy's expression was totally blank, but from the flush in his cheeks and the redness of his eyes it was clear he'd been crying.

"Can I help you?" Jedwin said, reaching up to help the younger boy from the wagon. The boy gratefully took his hand.

"Are you the undertaker in this town?" the older boy asked.

"Yes, I am," Jedwin answered, forgetting he'd just resigned. "I'm Jedwin Sparrow," he said. "Who are you two?"

"This is my brother Arthel," the older boy answered. "And folks call me Greasy." There was a slight hesitation in his voice before he glanced back at the body in the wagon. "We've brung our daddy for burial."

Jedwin glanced thoughtfully at the body in the back of the wagon. "How did it happen?" he asked him in the gentle, comforting tone that he had always used with grieving families.

"Diphtheria," the boy answered, his chin raised bravely high. "Arthel here got it first," he said, indicating his younger brother. “And Mama was taking care of him when she came down with it." The older boy's lip trembled and Arthel's stony expression crumbled into unwanted tears. "We was set to burying her when we realized that Pa had taken sick, too."

"You've lost both your parents?" Jedwin asked, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on the younger one's shoulder.

Greasy nodded. "Pa knew he was dying," he explained.

"So he told us to come here to Dead Dog. He said he had family here that would take care of us."

The young man's desperate attempt to be brave was painful. "I thought maybe some of his family would nurse him back to health." His words stumbled slightly at this recognition of his lost hope. "But he died on the road last night."

Haywood came forward and grasped the halter of the horse firmly. Nodding to the boys, he said, "I'll take your father around back." The youngsters watched as he began walking the wagon away. It was clear that a burden had been lifted off their shoulders.

"Come inside," Jedwin told the two. Turning back to the house, he saw his mother. Her eyes were as full as his own.

"I bet you boys are hungry," she said to them with all the maternal warmth that any woman could muster.

"No, ma'am," the eldest assured her quickly. "We ate this morning."

"Well," Amelia answered, unswayed. "A bit of cider and a piece of pone will warm you up at least. Come on into the kitchen."

Jedwin followed his mother and the boys through the house. Familiar with grief, he produced a quiet, unassuming stream of conversation about normal everyday events: the weather, crops, and politics.

Amelia quickly contributed an appealing array of food and drink to the kitchen table. Despite earlier protests to the contrary, both boys ate heartily. The older watched the younger with both pride and worry. As if wanting to insure that nothing ever hurt the child again.

Jedwin felt a surge of admiration for the boy. He remembered his own father's death, those hard, heavy first days when the world was such a lonely place and the weight of it had been placed squarely on his shoulders.

"Greasy's a pretty unusual name," Jedwin said to the older boy. "I suspect it was earned rather than given."