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Excerpt:
On the day Horace’s truck
wouldn’t start he called Henry Bill to give him a ride into town. Horace needed
to pay his property taxes, today being the final day allowed for such
transactions and also he needed to purchase a new white shirt. The reason for
the new shirt was the occasion of an impending visit from his older brother
Donald and his wife of several years Vivian. Donald visited Horace every year
much like a pilgrimage as Donald had promised their mother on her death bed
that he’d keep an eye on Horace. The reason for this request remains unknown
perhaps it was just a mother’s worry or it may have been the effects of the
painkillers and the sips of Kentucky whiskey she liked to take from her bedside
bottle.
Horace got along fine with
Donald who managed a shoe store in the next county but he always felt nervous
around Vivian. For Vivian was as they say “taken by the Lord.” She was as
devout as they come, underneath her cold steely eyes lurks all the wrath that
fire and brimstone could offer. Horace felt she never seemed happy and if that
was what loving the Lord turned a person into he’d just as well remain in the
liking column, nothing wrong with that he thought: nothing wrong with just
liking the Lord and then I can still be happy.
Horace
always wanted to look and act his best around her as he felt she looked down on
him. So, a new shirt every year was Horace’s manner of proclaiming “I’m doing
just fine. I have a new shirt don’t I?”
And so Henry Bill, driving his
old four door that used to be a taxi, pulled up in front of Horace’s house to
give him a ride into town.
“Hey ya,” Henry Bill calls out
with a slight wave.
Horace nods and begins walking
down the steps of his front porch and down the short sidewalk to the street.
Having received his passenger Henry Bill slowly pulls away from the curb.
“What’s wrong with it?” He asks
his friend.
”It’s making a grinding sound,
then nothing,” Horace answers.
“Bouts where?”
“Under the hood, right side. I
think anyway, I’m not sure.”
“That truck’s been trouble for
you lately ain’t it?”
“Yeah, but it’s a good truck.
I’ve had it for so long I don’t want to give up on it. I just need to figure it
out that’s all.”
“Yep,” Henry Bill says as they
approach town. “Where ya headed Horace?”
“Just downtown is fine, gotta
pay at the courthouse and then to the Dixie May.”
“New shirt? Your brother coming
again?”
“Yep, that time of year.”
“Boy, oh boy time sure flies,”
Henry Bill says.
“That it does Henry. That it
does.”
Horace
felt quite comfortable calling Henry Bill for a ride as they have known each
other since childhood. Henry Bill was the only child of Dee and Vernon
MacArthur. When Henry started school Dee took a housekeeping job for the
Ginleys. They were and always have been the richest family in Fair County, the
only rich family actually. Vestor Ginley, the old man, made his money investing
in Texas oil fields and foreign stocks. He wasn’t from here originally he
showed up one day fifty years ago and bought up the seventy three acres that
once made up the Winnie Ladlow farm (Winnie the window died with no known
heirs.) And so Vestor hired a staff, put in crops, brought out his wife and
raised five children all of whom divided their time between the farm in Fair
county and New York City where Vestor owned a townhouse and liked to stay close
to his business contacts.
When Dee took the job, Ginley
had been there for forty years and was now as they say “getting up there in
years.” His hearing and eyesight weren’t nearly what they used to be. Dee
neither attempted to avoid him or interact with him. She saw him occasionally
sitting in the parlor drinking coffee or sitting out on the porch with his
large black Newfoundland at the old man’s feet.
Dee took the job for the sole
reason that most folks take jobs: she needed the money. Since her husband
Vernon had been let go from the machine shop he tried his hand at farm help but
it tore up his back so bad the doctor gave him some pain pills that Vernon
liked so much he took them every day for a week sleeping the entire week away.
He said it gave him good dreams but by the time he got back on his feet his job
had been filled. So, Vernon went out looking for work and the best he could
come up with was a position selling shoes door to door, he did okay but was
gone a lot and what money he sent home wasn’t enough to make ends meet so Dee
took the job not always sure how she was going to pay the bills and not sure if
Vernon would ever return.
Her
premonition proved correct as one week when Vernon was due home he didn’t show
up. As she washed the dishes in the kitchen sink she didn’t need to think twice
she knew; “he’s gone.”
This was when Henry Bill was
ten years of age. He learned to help bring in the badly needed money and help
around the house. He learned to live life as an only child without a father and
was never heard to say much about it then or now.
“Here be good,” Horace says as
they approach the courthouse. Henry Bill pulls over to the curb and stops.
“You want me to look at your
truck sometime? I be glad too,” Henry Bill offers.
“Well, all right but let me ask
Roy first,” Horace says stepping out of the car and onto the sidewalk.
“Let me know then,” Henry Bill
waves.
Horace waves back then turns
and walks toward the courthouse.
Timothy Cavinder Online:
Website http://www.cavinder.com/
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