Memories Of Another Day Part 12

" 'Bout three, four dollars, I reckon."

Molly Ann sighed. "Someday if'n I ever git some extry money, I'd like to git one fer my maw. I bet she would love it."

"Thank you," she said. "Now go back to the kitchen. I fixed us a picnic basket."

"You did? How'd you know it would be a nice day?"

She laughed. "I looked out the window, silly. Hurry up, now. The day's gittin' shorter."

A few minutes later, he was on the seat beside her and the mule was pulling them down the road. "You got yer druthers," he said. "There's a picnic at the Fairgrounds, a Holiness Church revival an' the party at Woodfield Brook."

"The party at Woodfield Brook?" she asked. "I didn' hear 'bout that one. What's goin' on?"

"Nothin'," he said. "Only us."

She slipped her arm through his and smiled. "That's my druthers."

He finished off the last piece of apple pie and leaned back on one elbow and looked at her. "That was the best victuals I ever et," he said.

She smiled. "Go on, now. 'Twas nothin'. Jes' some ol' fried chicken and com bread and apple pie."

"You fergot the pink lemonade," he said. "You shouldn' ought to spend all that money. You work too hardferit."

She looked at him. "How else you goin' to know I kin cook?"

He laughed. "Maybe you're right."

"Did you git up to see my paw?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "They was all fine, an' they send you their best."

"Li'l Mase mus' be gittin' pretty big now," she said.

"He is. You should see him runnin' aroun' on his fat li'l legs."

Her voice was wistful. "I wisht I could see 'em. But it's so far."

"Maybe your forelady kin give you next Satiddy off. We kin go up there an' come back on Sunday," he said.

She brightened. "That would be nice." Then the brightness was gone. *'But she wouidn' do it. They runnin' behin' and we're all workin' extra hours."

They were silent for a moment. Then she spoke again. ''Maybe when the new mill opens things'11 be easier."

'^New mm?" he asked. ''What new mill?"

"The one Mr. Fitch was talkin' 'bout. I was in his store yestiddy to put some into my paw's account an' he mentioned that mebbe he could get me a forelady's job when the new mill opened."

"He did?" Jimmy's voice had a strange hard edge that had not been there before. "Was there anything special you had to do to get the job?"

She looked at him. She knew full well what he meant, but she thought it better not to mention that part of the conversation. "No. He jes' said that when the time came I should see him."

Jimmy was silent. He stared down at the blanket thoughtfully. A new mill. He wondered where it would be built. Probably Old Man Fitch had already bought up the property from some poor broken-down farmer. He was silent for so long that she spoke again.

"Is there anything wrong, Jimmy?"

He shook his head. "No." Then his voice turned bitter. "When are the people o' this town goin' to git wise to that man? Cain't they see he's bleedin' their life away and suckin' their blood?"

"Jimmy!" She was horrified. "How kin you say turrible things like that?"

"Because it's true!" he answered hotly. "Look, you give him money ever' week for your pappy's account, don't you?"

She nodded.

"You ever ask him what your balance is?"

"No. That's not my affair. That's my paw's."

"Ifn you put that money in a bank, they'd pay you interest," he said. ''He don' give you nothin', an' I bet he steals the money. I bet if'n yer paw should ask him the balance, there wouldn' be none."

She didn't speak.

"How many people do you think he's got doin' what you're doin'? Maybe more'n a hundred. That's a lot of money ol' Sam Fitch's got without doin' anythin' fer it." He laughed harshly. ''An' all you hillbillies are grateful to 'im fer gittin' you jobs so that you kin starve to death bein' in debt to him. But jes' you step out of line an' you'll fin' out how much of a friend Sam Fitch is. No nK)ney. No credit. No nothin'. Along comes the sheriff with a writ, an' then no more house an' Ian' or place to live. Jes' Uke happened to the Craigs on the bend of the river. Forty acres one day. The next, nothin'." He stopped suddenly as he realised what he was saying. "d.a.m.n!" he exploded. "That's it!"

"Don't blaspheme," she said sharply.

He stared atlier. "That's jes' what happened. Don't you see? He's been plannin' this fer more than a year. Fer no reason at all, the Craig kids lost their jobs in the mill an' the gla.s.s factory. As if in one week they'd all turned bad. A few months later, ol' Fitch came in an' bought their property fer a li'l more'n they owed him an' they moved away."

"I don't understand," she said.

"The new mill," he said. "That's where it's goin' to be. On the old Craig place. It's got ever'thing. Water. Power. An' room. Lots o' room."

"What're you gittin' all het up about?" she asked. "It's got nothin' to do with us."

He looked at her. "Maybe it hasn't. Not now. But in time it will. He jes' gits more 'n' more power an' pretty soon he'll own everything in the valley, includin' tl^ people."

She stared at him for a moment, then reached for the pitcher. "Here. Have some more lemonade. You're gittin' all riled up fer nothin'."

He took the gla.s.s from her hand. His face relaxed, the grim angry lines softening into a smile. He held up the gla.s.s of lemonade and looked through it at the sun. ''You're a lovely, innocent child, Molly Ann," he said. ''And someday you're goin' to make some man a fine wife."

The gla.s.s shot from his hand; the pink lemonade sprayed over his shirt. She scrambled angrily to her feet. "I'm not a child! I'm past sixteen an' I'm a woman!" she snapped. "An' you better be man enough to ask me or else you kin take me home!"

He stared up at her in surprise. Hurt and anger made her even more beautiful. He felt his heart well up inside him almost as if it would burst his sides. His own voice sounded strange in his ears. "I'm askin', Molly Ann."

It was her turn to be surprised. She was speechless.

"I'm askin', Molly Ann," he repeated. "What is your answer?"

"Oh, Jimmy!" she said, flinging herself down on him, the tears coming to her eyes. "Yes, yes, yes!"

They were married a little over a month later on the first of May, 1915, at the First Baptist Church of Fitchville. All her family was there, down from the hills, dressed in their Sunday best. All except Daniel. He could not get time off from his job.

It was the same day they began clearing the land on the old Craig farm to build the new mill.

Molly Ann came into the bedroom, her face flushed with excitement. "Wake up!" she said, shaking his shoulder. "Wake up!"

Jimmy threw one arm over his head. "Let me be, woman," he mumbled. "It's Sunday morning."

"Mr. Fitch is here to see you," she said.

"Or Man Fitch?" He was awake now. "To see me?"

no She nodded.

'' I wonder what he wants.''

''I don' know," she said. ''Theah was a knock on the door. I opened it an' theah he was. It's very important, he said."

''Very important?" He moved suddenly, pulling her down on him. "This is Sunday morning an' I didn' git my mominger yet."

Her arms pushed against his chest. "You were too busy sleepin'." His mouth covered her lips. "Please, Jimmy, what will he think?" she murmured.

"I don' give a d.a.m.n," he said.

She pushed herself away. "Don't blaspheme!" she said sharply. "Now you git yerself dressed an' come downstairs." She walked to the door. "I've made some fresh coffee."

Mr. Fitch was seated at the table in the kitchen when he came into the room. In front of him were a plate of ham and eggs, a steaming mug of coffee and hot rolls and b.u.t.ter. He was shoveling food into his .mouth as if years had pa.s.sed since he had eaten his last meal.

"Momin', Mr. Fitch," he said.

Mr. Fitch swallowed a mouthful of food before he replied. "Momin', Jimmy. I declare, yer li'l wife heah is as fine a cook as her mother. Yer a very lucky man."

Jimmy nodded. He walked to the table and sat down. Molly Ann placed a mug of coffee in front of him and went back to the stove. Jimmy picked up the mug. The coffee was steaming and fragrant. "I know that," he said.

Mr. Fitch wiped the last bit of yolk from his plate with his roll. He swallowed it whole, washing it down with the coffee. He leaned back, patting his stomach gently. "That's a mighty fine breakfast, Miz Simpson."

Molly Ann blushed much like her mother. She didn't miss the fact that he'd promoted her from Molly Ann to Mrs. Simpson. 'Thank you, Mr. Fitch," She looked at Jimmy. "Ready for your breakfast now?"

''Not yet," Jimmy said. "FU just have some coffee fer now."

"Then FU leave you gentlemen to your business," she said politely, and went into the next room. But also like her mother, she stayed near the doorway so that she could hear what was being said.

"What brings you out on a Sunday momin'?" Jimmy asked, not waiting for Fitch to lead off.

Fitch smiled. "I missed seein' you in church the las' few Sundays."

Jimmy didn't answer. He realized Fitch knew that he was not much for Sunday churchgoing.

"But I figgered," Fitch continued smoothly, "young man, newly married, beautiful young wife. What would he be doin' in church of a Sunday momin' anyhow?"

Jimmy picked up his coffee mug and studied it. "Molly Ann told me you said it was important."

"It is," Mr. Fitch said seriously. "Very important." He paused for effect. "Fve been keepin' an eye on you fer a long time, young man. An' I've Hked what I've seen. You remin' me very much of myself when I was your age. Full of git-up-an'-go."

Jimmy nodded silently.

"An' I been thinkin'," Mr. Fitch said. "I'm not gittin' any younger, an' a young man like you can go a long way in business with me. I got n.o.body I can depend on an' too much to do."

"Are you offerin' me a job, Mr. Fitch?" Jimmy was incredulous.

"In a sort of way," Mr. Fitch replied. "But more'n that. I want you to take over some things fer me so that I can pay attention to others."

"What sort of things, Mr. Fitch?"

"You call me Sam," Fitch said.

"All right, Sam. What things?"

'The folk hereabouts know you an' like you," Fitch said. ''You can he'p out at the store, buy the squeezin's, handle things with the good folk. You know what I mean."

"I don't know," Jimmy said.

"In business there are always problems," Fitch said. "Sometimes people don' understand what yer doin' is fer their own good."

Jimmy nodded without speaking. He could appreciate that without any trouble. It wasn't always easy to make people understand you were cheating them for their own good.

Fitch interpreted Jimmy's nod as approval. "I've always done my bes' fer this town. But now there's beginnin' to be some talk that I'm doin' it jes' to b.u.t.ter my own bread. Like the new mill. That's two hunnert jobs fer the good folk hereabouts. Still there's talk that I'm jes' doin' it fer my own interest."

"You're not benefitin' from it?" Jimmy asked with pretended naivete.

"Of course I'm benefitm'," Fitch said. "That's only good business. But so is the town. I'm bringin' more industry an' work to it, an' still all I hear is that the Craigs say I squeezed them ofTn their land in order to sell it to the mill. Now they claim they still own seven acres along the river that was deeded separate in their gran'pappy's name an' he's still alive."

"But they're already clearin' on the riverfront," Jimmy said. "How can they do that if'n they don' own the land?"

"That's jest it," Fitch said. "The Craigs are wrong. But it would take a long time to win the case in court. Meanwhile, the mill would not open an' the townfolk would lose all that work an' pay. So bein' generous, I made 'em an offer, but they refused."

"How much did you offer?" Jimmy asked.

"Ten times what the land is worth. Fifty dollars an acre. Three hundred and fifty for the parcel. An' that's fer land they don' even have clear t.i.tle fo."

"But neither does the mill, ifn they press their claim," Jimmy said.

"Ain't no court in the Ian' that will hold up the Craigs' claim against the mill. I already spoke to Jedge Hanley an' that's what he tells me."

"Then what're you worried about?" Jimmy asked.

"I jes' don' want no unpleasantness. I want the folks to see that what I'm doin' is fer their own good." "I still don' see how I kin he'p you there," Jimmy said.

"The Craigs know you an' like you," Fitch said. "They would listen to you."