Nate’s summer continued in its languor of chores, reading, and two-handed canasta. He was getting bored, however, and missed his weekly visits to Jim Frank’s place. Those were, he felt, gone forever, their magic broken along with Jim Frank’s statue and the phrase that had made it an integral part of Davis Corners’ culture. He realized that Davis Corners was the better for being without them. In spite of his Uncle Henry’s and his own protests to the contrary, he had come to realize that the statue and its phrase were mean to black people. He hadn’t thought so until he met Washington. Until then, black people had been no more real to him that ceramic caricature in Jim Frank’s front yard. Still, both the statue and the phrase had smacked of something, and he had broken them. Davis Corners may have been the better, but Nate wasn’t feeling like much of a hero.
One Thursday night, Nate was drawing a card when someone knocked on the front door. Actually, it wasn’t so much like a knock. It was more like a finger tapping on the glass side-pane next to the door. It was a tentative, plaintive sound, not the demanding tone of solid wood being pounded by knuckles. Grandmother Tillman’s eyes darted quickly to the hall closet, and Nate wondered if that was where she kept her rifle. The pitiful tapping came again and Grandmother Tillman, finding no threat in its meek sound, walked straight past the closet and opened the front door. The living room light spilled out onto the porch and onto a disheveled, young woman in a tight, red dress torn at the shoulder. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and she kept shifting nervously from foot to foot. Nate recognized her right away. It was Edna McElroy, Miss Edna, from Cole’s Truck Stop.
“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I’m stranded and I wondered if I could use your phone to call someone for help.”
Miss Edna stood in the doorway with her head tossed back, trying to maintain her dignity while she asked a stranger for help. Suddenly her lower lip began quivering and then she started sobbing. Grandmother Tillman immediately went to her, put her arm around her, and pulled her into the house, all the while murmuring, “There, there.”
Although Nate was thirteen and a male, he knew instinctively this was the universal feminine drill for “been done wrong by a man.” As Grandmother Tillman led Miss Edna past Nate toward the living room, he could smell heavy perfume and just a background of beer and tobacco. It reminded him of Jim Frank’s porch and its smell of lighter fluid, Pall Malls, and Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.
Grandmother Tillman took Miss Edna to the couch and sat next to her with her arm still around her. Miss Edna continued to sob and Grandmother Tillman told Nate to go make coffee. While Nate was out of the room, Grandmother Tillman asked Miss Edna if she had been hurt, but by the way she said the word ‘hurt,’ Miss Edna knew she meant ‘raped.’ Between the sobs, she said no.
Nate came back and announced that the coffee was brewing. He slumped off to the side, hoping not to be sent out of the room. Grandmother Tillman looked at the scratches and red marks on Miss Edna’s neck and arms.
“Looks like you had a bit of a struggle with someone.”
Miss Edna quit crying. She looked at Grandmother Tillman and then rolled her eyes.
“Buddy Cole,” she said, then shook her head.
This was the same Buddy Cole that owned Cole’s Truck Stop. He was married and had three kids, one of them in Nate’s class at school. Nate expected Grandmother Tillman to shoo him out of the room now, for sure, but she didn’t.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Miss Edna said while putting her hands up in resignation. “What’s a fool girl doing going out with a married man she works for.”
Grandmother Tillman cleared her throat awkwardly and said, “Well, I wasn’t thinking any such thing. Truth is, I barely know this Mr. Cole and I can’t say that you and I have had the pleasure of being introduced.”
Miss Edna and Nate both giggled. Miss Edna was embarrassed for being so stupid as to just come into a stranger’s house and blurt out such intimate details. Nate giggled because he realized that Grandmother Tillman had never seen Miss Edna before and didn’t know she’d been talking to the woman who’d been the topic of so much lurid gossip at Sunday dinners.
“Allow me the honor, ladies.”
Nate stepped closer and made the introductions, thinking to himself that this was throwing in the rooster and hollering ‘nurse’ for sure. The two women looked stunned for a moment and stared at him with blank expression.
“We’ve never formally met,” he said to Miss Edna, “But I know you from the diner. My name is Nate Williams.”
Miss Edna sat up straight and said to Grandmother Tillman, “Oh my, I’ve heard so many people talk about you.” She blushed when she realized how that sounded. “Oh no, I mean, you’re a real respected person in Davis Corners, and, oh dear, you must be thinking the most dreadful things about me right now.” Miss Edna pulled back on the couch.
Grandmother Tillman smiled and took Miss Edna’s hand. “You’re not the first person to stand at that door and ask for help. As far as that goes, you’re not the first woman with man problems to show up on my porch. I’ve never regretted what help I could give and I’ve certainly never thought the less of anyone who needed it.”
Nate watched all this and reckoned that Grandmother Tillman was delighted to have Davis Corners’ last icon of vice right here in Reformation Central, so to speak. In turn, Miss Edna seemed delighted to have found a safe refuge for the moment, not realizing that the machinery of her rehabilitation was already grinding. Nate was tempted to think she was happier than... well, she was naively happy.
The three of them went into the kitchen and Nate poured the fresh coffee into three large mugs. He couldn’t believe that he still hadn’t been sent to his room. He guessed his presence was benign and passive, like Old Redemption’s. Whatever the reason, he was grateful to be this close to Miss Edna and breathe air laced with her aroma. Grandmother Tillman and Miss Edna sat at the large kitchen table, while Nate stood off, trying to stay inconspicuous.
“My own opinion aside,” Grandmother Tillman said, “It sounds as though you think you’re being foolish to go out with Mr. Cole.”
Miss Edna laughed. “I’m not sure with Buddy I had much of a choice. Tonight was the first time. Buddy’s been after me to go out with him for a long time, but I always put him off. Hell, he’s potbellied and he’s got three kids.”
Grandmother Tillman’s back stiffened a bit and Miss Edna quickly apologized for her language.
“Today, at work, he told me that his wife was out of town with the kids at her mother’s and that if I didn’t go out with him, I could just find another place to work.” Miss Edna looked down into her coffee mug and fiddled with the handle a bit. “I don’t know how to do nothing but wait tables and flirt,” she said in a tiny voice. “Cole’s is the only place I can make a living doing it. So tonight I went out with him, and we drove around and had some beers and talked and stuff. He wanted to go to my place, but I said no, people would see us and talk, so he drove us way out here into the country and we parked down by the river. Well, he got real pushy, if you know what I mean, and when I put him off, he said ugly things about me and what he thought I did with the truckers.”
She started crying again. Grandmother Tillman waited and said nothing.
“Mrs. Tillman, people think I’m real wild, and, truth is, I’m no goody two-shoes, but I don’t fool around like people think. I like to dress up and look pretty, and I like to flirt with the men in the diner, and hell yeah, oops, I’m sorry, once in a while I go out on a date with someone, and if I like him we might neck, but I’m not what Buddy said.”
To Nate’s surprise, Grandmother Tillman didn’t get the least bit uneasy at Miss Edna’s frank talk about her social life.
“Well, I got out of his truck, and he drove off saying I was fired. I saw your lights from the road and here I am.”
Grandmother Tillman said, “You’d better stay here tonight. Buddy’s got no wife to check in with and he knows where you live, I suppose.”
Miss Edna’s face took on one more layer of despair. “He’s not only my boss, he’s my landlord. Now I got no job and probably no home, either.” She started sobbing again.
Grandmother Tillman turned to Nate. “Go make the bed in your Uncle Gabriel’s old room. Miss McElroy will be staying with us for awhile, until we can sort this all out.”
Nate’s mouth dropped open.
“I couldn’t, ma’am,” Miss Edna said. “I’m a stranger to you. I’ve got no right to impose.”
“A stranger? Hardly.” Grandmother Tillman shot a sideways glance at Nate. “Why, we’ve even been properly introduced.” She smiled and rubbed Miss Edna on the shoulder. “Humor this old widow, girl, I’ve never turned anyone away, from puppies to grown hobos. I’d hate to start with a young woman all alone in the world.”
Miss Edna made a little whirlpool in her coffee cup by swishing the coffee around. She looked into the cup and softly repeated “alone in the world.”
“Not tonight.” Grandmother Tillman hugged Miss Edna. “We’ll get your things tomorrow. You just get a good night’s sleep.”
Nate got Miss Edna’s room ready, thinking all along that Uncle Henry wasn’t going to believe this. Grandmother Tillman brought out some clothes and towels. Having raised two daughters, she had things stored away that she was able to pull out. Grandmother Tillman told Miss Edna goodnight, then went down the hall to Nate’s room.
“One simple rule,” she told him, “What goes on and what gets said in this house stay in this house. Miss McElroy’s under my protection and I intend to protect her from gossip and rumor mongers, as well as brutes.”
Nate assured her that he understood.
Her posture softened and she said, “I’ve no idea how I’m going to explain this to your mother and your Aunt Hattie.”
Chapter 18
Copyright (C) 2009 Michael A. Hughes
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