Hell With the Lid Blown Off Page 3

  Beckie nodded, looking grave. “And now back to the business of the day, Ruth dear. Marva has planned a wonderful dinner for us. But I’m afraid that Marva is leaving early tomorrow. What shall we do about a nice repast for Wallace and his friend, not to mention ourselves? Do you suppose that I could telephone the Palace Restaurant and ask them to deliver a meal tomorrow afternoon?”

  “You certainly could, Miz Beckie, but why spend your money? I’d be more than happy to fix up something, and I’m sure Wallace and Mr. Wakefield would rather have a home-cooked meal after so many months of whatever alarming thing they’ve been eating at college. I know my brother Gee Dub was so underfed when he came home after his term was over that he had to stand in the same place twice just to cast a shadow.”

  She expected a token argument, but Beckie accepted her offer with such alacrity that Ruth realized wryly that her landlady was hoping she would volunteer to cook. Ruth often made supper for the two of them, and she knew Beckie had a high opinion of her kitchen skills. Ruth wanted to do it, anyway. Cooking would give her an excuse not to socialize with Wallace and his friend until they actually sat down to eat. Ruth thought she might ask Marva’s permission to prepare breakfast, dinner, and supper every day they were here, and clean up, as well.

  “I’m sure I can fix something that will please your guests. Let’s see. Does Wallace like pork chops and dressing, do you think?”

  “Oh, my dear, pork chops are Wallace’s favorite! And I must say that I quite enjoy them myself.”

  “Perfect, then. When I come in from home in the morning I’ll stop by Mr. Khouri’s market and see if I can buy some good chops from him.” She had planned to stay over at Beckie’s until after the church picnic on Sunday. But Wallace’s arrival was making her reconsider that plan, which meant that she would be walking home after her last piano lesson this evening and walking back to town in the morning. “I only have two students coming tomorrow, so I plan to practice on the piano at the Masonic Hall for a little while more after they leave and before I start on the pork chops. I’d like to get better acquainted with that old upright before I have to play at the church picnic on Sunday.”

  Beckie leaned forward and put her hand on Ruth’s. “Why don’t you invite your young man to supper tomorrow, Ruth dear? I’m sure Wallace would enjoy seeing his childhood friend.”

  “You mean Trent? Miz Beckie, I told you…”

  Beckie shushed her. “Don’t fool with me, now. You do like him, don’t you?”

  Ruth felt herself blush. “Well, yes, I do, but I do not intend to be forward about it.”

  “Why heaven forfend, Ruth dear! Just tell him that I’m inviting him for Wallace’s sake.”

  It was a transparent ruse, Ruth thought, but she said, “If I happen to run into Trent Calder beforehand, Miz Beckie, I’ll mention that you suggested he come to supper.”

  “Oh, good. Wallace will be glad to see him. Trent and Wallace played together some after Wallace first moved here.”

  Ruth nodded, but didn’t say that she doubted Wallace had spared Trenton Calder a thought in years.

  Alafair Tucker

  After her last student had finished his lesson late that afternoon, Ruth left Beckie to enjoy her visitors on her own, and walked the blustery, dusty, two miles from town back to her parents’ house.

  She was met at the gate by Bacon, the rambunctious, six-month-old pup who was the offspring of Shaw’s prize hunting hound bitch, Buttercup, and the family’s elderly shepherd mix, Charlie Dog. Bacon’s littermates had all been pureblood English coonhounds, sired by Buttercup’s hunting companion, Crook. But in spite of Shaw’s diligence in keeping Buttercup penned the last time she was in heat, old Charlie Dog had managed one forbidden tryst. The pureblood pups had all been sold to eager hunters, but Shaw hadn’t had the heart to drown the charming little mongrel. Besides, Grace took one look at the fluffy yellow scrap and called him Bacon (who knew why?) and just like that he was part of the family.

  Grace, Chase Kemp, and Zeltha joined them halfway up the drive to the house, all chattering and skipping, as energetic as the puppy. By the time Ruth reached the picket fence that surrounded the house, she knew every detail of every event that had occurred on the farm that day.

  She had walked into something of a family reunion. A picnic supper was in progress, and the entire Tucker clan was happily munching away at sandwiches, cold chicken, and potato salad.

  Ruth’s parents, Alafair and Shaw, were sitting side by side on the porch swing, and her four older sisters and their mates were arrayed across the porch in a semicircle of hard-backed kitchen chairs. Her two brothers, Gee Dub and Charlie, were splayed across the steps in loose-limbed comfort, leaving only a corner of the bottom step for the younger sisters, Blanche and Sophronia, to sit with their dinner plates on their laps. Three abandoned, fly-blown plates on the porch marked where the littlest ones had been sitting at the moment they spotted Ruth coming up the drive with Bacon romping beside her.

  Grace flitted ahead and opened the picket gate for her, and Ruth waved as she walked through. “Hey, everybody!”

  She was greeted by a chorus of “hey” and “howdy,” but only her mother was willing to put down her supper and walk down the path to meet her.

  “What are you doing back here so soon, sweetie? I figured you’d spend the night in town.”

  Ruth gave her mother a hug, then glared at the sky as though the wind was a personal affront. “I took a notion to come home tonight, Ma, but I kind of wish I hadn’t now. It looks like it might rain and I don’t fancy a muddy, wet, trip back into town in the morning.”

  “I’m glad you did, darlin’. I miss your shining face when you’re not here of a morning.”

  They walked up onto the porch where Ruth hugged and kissed each relative in turn. Her eldest sister, Martha, raised her eyebrows. “If we’d known you aimed to walk back to the house tonight, Streeter and I could have given you a ride from town like we did Alice and Walter.” She nodded toward her fiancé’s Model T Ford parked next to the fence.

  “I didn’t know I was going to until I did, Martha.” Ruth turned toward sister number three, lively, blue-eyed Alice, also expecting a blessed event any moment, and her husband Walter, the town barber. “I didn’t expect to see you all out and about, Alice. Mercy, you look like you’re about to pop!”

  Both Alice and Walter laughed at Ruth’s apt comment. “I feel I’m about to pop, Ruthie! We figured we’d better get out of the house while I can still walk.”

  “Besides, we don’t like to miss an opportunity to eat your ma’s cooking,” Walter added with a wink.

  Alafair accepted the compliment with a thin smile. Handsome, glib Walter Kelley was her least favorite son-in-law.

  Ruth was quite aware of her mother’s attitude and tried not to let her amusement show. “Is everybody going to the church picnic on Sunday?”

  “We will,” Martha said, and was seconded by Phoebe and Mary. But Alice shrugged.

  “I will if I can waddle over there. Else Walter may have to go by himself. I hope to have increased the population by one before then. Mercy, I don’t know how much longer I can stand feeling like a heifer! How are you feeling, Phoebe, by the way? You haven’t said ‘boo’ since we got here.” Phoebe and Alice were fraternal twins, and both due to deliver before another month was out.

  “Happy as a clam.” Phoebe sounded smug. “This second one is way easier than the first, if that’s any comfort to you.”

  Alice laughed. “I’ve forgotten what comfort is.”

  Shaw stood up. “Come on, boys,” he said. “If the ladies are going to be discussing childbirth, I aim to be missing.” He raised the male half of the congregation with a gesture. “Let’s mosey down to the stable and admire the stock.”

  The gentlemen rose and ambled away in a group. Not to be left out, the five youngest children and their four canine co
mpanions followed along.

  “Don’t be gone long,” Alafair called after them. “We’ll be making ice cream directly.” She took Ruth’s arm. “Come on inside with me, sugar. You can help me mix up the custard.”

  Alafair led her daughter into the house, through the newly mopped parlor and into the warm kitchen. “Sit down. I’ll fix you a plate and you can eat while I cook up the makings for the ice cream. The girls will be glad to know you’re back tonight. With you and Martha spending nights in town half the time, Grace wants to sleep with Blanche and not Sophronia and it’s a big flapdoodle every night at bedtime until Mama or Daddy goes in there and knocks some heads together.”

  Ruth laughed. “There are enough beds now that everybody could have her own.”

  “That’d suit Blanche, but Grace will never have it.” She gave Ruth a knowing look as she set down a plate of cold chicken and potato salad and a big mug of milky coffee. “I admit I’m surprised to see you. I figured you’d spend the night in town. Did Miz Beckie do something to set your teeth on edge?”

  Ruth took a bite of drumstick. “Oh, no. Wallace showed up today, along with some college friend of his. Randal, his name is. I thought I’d make myself scarce tonight.”

  Alafair simply said, “Ah.” She was acquainted with Ruth’s opinion of Wallace MacKenzie the Third.

  “I’ll confess,” Ruth continued, “if it was left to me, Wallace would make up with his father in Muskogee and not come home to Miz Beckie’s at all. But Miz Beckie is so happy to see him again that I expect I can’t begrudge her.”

  Alafair busied herself with milk, sugar, and eggs for a moment. “If you feel uncomfortable in that house while Wallace and his friend are there, honey, maybe you’d better stay here until they leave. You know we’ll carry you into town so you can teach your lessons whenever you need to.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary, Mama. I’m sure Wallace doesn’t have the slightest interest in me. I’m too common for the great MacKenzies. But he can’t stand it that I don’t think he’s the finest young fellow in all Christendom. He’s so used to worship and praise that he’s downright insulted when he doesn’t get it. I talked a while to his friend Randal and liked him, though. He seemed like a gentleman. No, I’ll go back tomorrow, and it’ll be fine. I offered to make pork chops and dressing for supper tomorrow. Miz Beckie told me I could invite Trent Calder. She’s got it into her head that I’m partial to him. She is quite the matchmaker.” Ruth sounded amused.

  Alafair lowered her head so Ruth wouldn’t see her smile. She was inordinately pleased that Ruth liked Trenton Calder. She had always had a soft spot for the red-haired deputy, so serious and thoughtful. He had always been good to his mother, and in Alafair’s opinion that was a strong predictor of an excellent husband.

  And if any of her kids deserved an excellent husband, it was Ruth. Ruth was an affectionate girl. She had spent more of her childhood in someone’s lap than any two of the others together, and still was ready with a hug and a kiss. Circumstance had put Ruth in an oddly singular position, the middlest of middle children, the sixth of ten living. The eldest four were all girls, and made as nice a little group as may be. The youngest three were also girls, a tight gang of playmates. But Ruth was born between the two boys. Her mother’s knobby-kneed, long-limbed little tree-climber, with stubbed toes and scratches on her arms, who had loved to ride horses, and dance, and sing, and play the piano. Never lost among her horde of sisters and brothers, but always going her own way. Alafair smiled at the memory. When had she become this soft-voiced, elegant creature? They always grew up when you weren’t looking. If someone had threatened to drown her if she didn’t choose, she might, just might, say that of all her much-beloved children, Ruth was her favorite.

  Yes, if anyone deserved an excellent husband it was Ruth. If the previous experience of four daughters’ romances hadn’t taught her to keep her opinion to herself, Alafair would have been quite the matchmaker in this instance as well. “And did you invite Trent to supper?” she asked.

  “I might, if I see him beforehand.” She sipped at her coffee. “Mama, would you come to supper at Miz Beckie’s tomorrow?”

  “I wasn’t asked.”

  “I’m asking you. I’m the cook, so I figure it’s all right.”

  “Oh, no, honey, I just can’t. Since all you older girls have left the house, I’ve got too many helpless mouths to feed.” The idea that the men might feed themselves, much less feed the children, didn’t cross her mind. “But if you want, I’ll take you back to town in the buggy tomorrow after breakfast, and we can go to Khouri’s together and pick up whatever you need to cook for supper. I can even help you fix it up, if you need.”

  “I don’t need help cooking, Ma, but I’d appreciate it if you’d come with me to Khouri’s. He likes you, I can tell. He always gives you the best cuts.”

  Alafair smiled and shook her head. “He’s just a good, decent fellow. I don’t buy enough meat or produce off him to keep him in collar buttons.”

  Ruth Tucker

  After breakfast the next morning, Alafair drove Ruth back to town in the buggy. Chase had gone home with Mary, and Zeltha with her parents, but Alafair’s three-year-old, Grace, came along, since she was particularly energetic that morning and had been distracting her older siblings from their chores. Instead of delivering Ruth straight to Beckie MacKenzie’s, Alafair accompanied her daughter to Khouri’s Market in order to lend her expertise to the choosing of pork chops. Khouri’s Market carried meat, dairy, and produce all in one location. The quality of his merchandise was top-notch. He was so obsessed with freshness that he would never allow a wilted carrot top or a day-old egg in his store. Besides, Khouri’s was located right next to cousin Hattie Tucker’s Mercantile and so was convenient for all grocery-shopping needs.

  “What can I do for you, Miz Tucker?” Mr. Khouri asked.

  “Not for me today, Mr. Khouri. Today Ruth is buying, and I’m just along for the outing.”

  Mr. Khouri’s black eyes locked on Ruth with a knowing expression. “I’m going to guess that Miz Beckie is still celebrating her grandson’s homecoming, and you’re here on her behalf to buy something special for dinner.”

  Ruth laughed. There were no secrets in Boynton. “That’s the long and short of it, Mr. Khouri, and I’m impressed at your skill in putting one and two together and coming out with three every time. Marva is leaving Miz Beckie’s early today so I volunteered to do pork chops and dressing for supper, depending on if you’ve got some nice fat ones you can let me have.”

  “Well, now, I believe you’re in luck, young lady. Just this morning I acquired a couple of dressed shoats from your brother-in-law, Kurt Lukenbach. I was just about to trim them up. I expect I could find you some chops that would fit your requirements, nice and fat.”

  After much examination and discussion, Khouri wrapped six thick, marbled chops in brown butcher’s paper for them. Ruth and her mother walked out onto the boardwalk and stood for several minutes reviewing the proper way to cook pork chops and dressing while Grace ran in circles around them.

  It was some moments before they parted—Alafair and Grace to visit Alice, and Ruth to deliver the pork chops to Beckie’s icebox before walking the five blocks to the Masonic Hall to practice on the ancient piano awhile.

  Ruth waved good-bye to her mother and Grace as they headed toward Second Street, then turned just in time to see Wallace MacKenzie and Randal Wakefield emerging from the Williams Drug Store directly across the street. She stopped in her tracks and considered going back inside Khouri’s Market, but it was too late. Wallace called her name and crossed the road to meet her with his friend trailing behind him.

  The two men fell in on either side of her. Wallace put one arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “What delights have you purchased in yonder establishment, my darling Ruth? Something delectable for our supper, I’ll warrant. Will you be preparing it wit
h your own fair hand? I hope so, because that would enhance its flavor ten-fold.”

  Ruth shook his arm off. “You are quite the bag of wind, Wallace. Yes, I’ve bought some cuts of meat for supper, and you can thank your grandmother for the thought, like you can thank her for so many things.”

  Randal chuckled his approval. “Touché, Wally, you old bag of wind.”

  Wallace staggered and clutched his chest. “Oh, you wound me! Come Randal. Let us repair to the local alehouse where I can ease the pain with demon rum.”

  Randal looked surprised. “I was under the impression that a man can’t purchase liquor in Oklahoma, Wall.”

  “Never believe everything you hear, Randal. Farewell, cruel maiden. Tell Gran we’ll see her tonight at your much-anticipated supper. Come on, Ran.”

  Ruth rolled her eyes at Randal, who shook his head and smiled. What folly.

  Trenton Calder

  A few days before the church supper, I was heading to the Newport Cafe for a bite of dinner when I heard the music coming from the Masonic Hall. I knew it had to be Ruth practicing on the upright piano, just like the day before, when I fell in love with her. After that day I would have recognized her playing anywhere. I wafted into the hall like a cloud on a breeze, toward that music. She had finished playing a piece that I didn’t recognize, something real high-class, and was turning the pages of her sheet music. I came to stand beside her piano bench and she looked up at me with the sweetest smile. She was wearing green that day. Her eyes were the color of the leafy woods on a summer day.

  “Well, I’ll swan,” she said. “I suppose that if ever I want to see you, I should just come here and play the piano like it was a duck call and you’ll come flying in. Did you know that Wallace MacKenzie is back in town? Miz Beckie asked me to cook up some pork chops tonight for him and his friend from college who came with him to visit.”

  I had known Wallace MacKenzie for years. Me and him had gone to school together for a while, after he got sent to live with his grandma and before I had to quit school and go to work. I didn’t think much of him, but he thought so much of himself that my low opinion didn’t trouble him none. Life was easy as rolling off a log for him. Him and his dad butted heads, but the old man never cut him off. Seemed to me like Wallace always landed on his feet whether he deserved to or not. He was even going to college, which I would have given my right arm to do.